Just like to thank all those who keep coming back to my blog, and to those who have just found it, I’m not a story writer by any long shot I just like to tell people what I’m doing and what I’m planning on doing in my life, if only more people were open and not so secretive I reckon this world would be a better place for it.
If you have read my previous post you would have read that we have been away, we meaning, my partner, my boxer dog and the Van, Winthorpe to the north of Skegness to be precise.
It was lovely, the sun as it has all over England at the weekend shone in a clear blue sky,
I caught the sun Saturday, forgot my baseball cap didn’t I, all three of us walked along the seashore towards Ingoldmells not a half hour walk away.
Diezel my boxer was in and out of the sea and crapping every few hundred yards, unbelievable the amount of poo that he passed in that short walk, he must have been saving it up for a week! Luckily I carry at least a dozen plastic poo bags with me.
We came off the sands at ‘Joes bar, it was once called the ‘point’ but Joe seems to have taken the place over and now there’s a plethora of outlets selling all the usual seaside junk with ‘Joes name plastered everywhere, not good in my opinion but the younger visitor seems to like that sort of thing but it’s not what I want.
There’s a constant blearing of pop music, I personally wouldn’t want that noise in the background as I sat on the sands with my young family building sand castles.
I was expecting the half dozen or so of donkey’s to be named after him, it wouldn’t surprise me if ‘Joe had his finger in that nosebag too?
It was once a nice peaceful beach but not anymore, but time and tide waits for no man I suppose, and we have to move with the times, pity it as to be so commercialised though!
I had to sit through two nights of karaoke in the Beachcombers bar, one wouldn’t want to wish that on ones worst enemy.
I just don’t understand people who go on purpose to listen to that sort of entertainment it’s worst than water boarding I should imagine.
There were two in particular who were the worst singers I have ever heard in my life, a brother and a sister, she’s a sandwich short of a picnic, his light was on but there was no one at home one would imagine by the noise that was coming from his gob..
To look at him you would say he’s just a normal guy, a little bit of a oddball maybe, ok he minces about a bit and thinks he’s gods gift to the ladies but for the life of him he just can’t sing but he thinks he can, and that’s a pity because he’s actually a nice lad apart from that.
He kept on coming over to where we were sitting, he has a crush on one of the twins, she’s not interested but he still comes over.
I know its not nice to mock the inflicted but this lad is a pain, he thinks in his small mind that he’s the best singer since Mick Hucknall but he’s tone deaf, I wish someone would tell him, I would, but I know I would get into trouble for doing so from my partner, but someone ought to.
I was getting my second pint of the evening when he murdered his first number, the bar staff were all taking the piss, his sister is just as bad, they both think they have missed their vocation in life, Simon Cowl would have a field day ripping them two apart.
We were back home by one thirty Sunday afternoon, dropped the twins off at their mothers emptied the van and went out in my partners car for lunch.
In the evening we went dancing at the Polish club, my partners conjoined twin went with us for the first time for several weeks, she’s been having problems with her boyfriend, she say’s this time it over, we shall see!
It looks like I won’t be going to Fuerteventura on the 28th of this month if that ruddy volcano keeps on spewing out ash and there’s no way I will be getting any money back either, an act of god they say.
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