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Alton Towers trip…

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Well, Alton Towers was a blast. Friday night we arrived at the hotel, after 5 hours of cracking traffic. Truly, I loved it. Saturday, though, made up for everything. Alton Towers beckoned, and at 8.30am, as we arrived, we noticed a suitably small note on the tickets: “Valid from 9.30am only.”. Marvellous…
9.30am. We raced in, and ran for Air, the new ride. The first inkling that something was due to loosen my bowels came when the floor at the start of the ride gave way, and the seats went forward, rendering us almost horizontal, superman style. Christ. After twists and turns that would confuse even the most twist-and-turny people, half way through the ride I noticed I was lying flat on my back, hurtling backwards through a particularly sadistic section of the rollercoaster, barely able to breathe. If that sounds awful, I assure you it wasn’t. By the end of the ride, all was forgiven and I immediately wanted to turn round and do it again…
The rest of the day was spent going on the most adventurous rides (Nemesis, Oblivion – which, quite frankly, scares me – to name a few), and of course watching England’s practically orgasmic 3-0 win over Denmark, with the most impressive Posh and Becks lookalikes ever, by a large screen in the grounds. The lookalikes kept everybody entertained by kicking any balls that came their way and, regardless of the poor quality of the kicks, the cheers went up every time the golden foot touched the ball. Marvellous. And it happened to be filmed for the BBC’s coverage of the event. I was in a whole 2 frames of the broadcast.
Fame at last. No, really. Honest.