The crisp drawer.
Wulf listens carefully for printers ...
None here either Wulf ...
Just a week ago we were enjoying Showaddywaddy at Pontins. It's taken me almost a week to recover.
Pontins is magnificently, unashamedly Chav, though you wouldn't think so by their brochure, which has a lovely middle-class childless couple on the cover, enjoying exotic food in a charming environment.
The reality, apart from the aforementioned Showaddywaddy, included a 'general knowledge' quiz in which EVERY one of the thirty questions was either on football or soaps! There were smokers everywhere, and ashtrays in every corner.
I'd last visited in 1964 and the camp and people had hardly progressed from then.
Brean Sands has an air of vulnerability which kept me a bit on edge throughout. I like living at 450 feet above sea level - no matter how much polar ice melts I'll still be dry. But coastal towns give me the creeps these days, and not just 'cos of the tacky souvenir shops and rolls of burnt tummy fat on the chavs. So I always sleep with one eye and ear open for the sights and sounds of an inrushing sea!
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