Fire Up The Camper

Last weekend me and Lady Bong headed up to north Norfolk in da camper.

Our first stop was at a little place on the outskirts of Cley. I told Wak Baines to pop in on the way back from work for a chat. " It's about three hundred yards past the pub on the left, you can't miss it".  He turned up driving the car in that haphazard, slightly careless way of his ( like he fishes really ), shouting out of the window as he came to a Holt ( geddit ? Fecking hilarious eh ? ). " Three hundred yards ? Three hundred yards ? It's miles further than that ! "

 
After a chat I got on the bike and headed down to the shingle for a bit of mackerel fishing, only to see Wak coming the other way in the car. The pedant had gone to the trouble measuring the distance from pub to turn off. " 0.45 miles " he said proudly. No doubt he made a note in his diary that evening.

The following day we had a wander around several different places having endured the terror the Coasthopper bus being driven at breakneck speed along the thin and winding roads. All the old farts on the bus were relaxed about it though.

At the campsite a bloke came up to me and started questioning me about my T shirt. Nice old bloke, we ended up talking about Tom Mann, the Spanish civil war, the Moorish empire and touring Spain by camper. Most excellent.

The sun shone, we drank wine, eat good food and I didn't catch many makkies. That'll do for me.