Last
night we missed a treat. Every August in Hastings there is a pram
race. It's become something of a tradition - teams of people in all
sorts of fancy dresses race round the Old Town cheered on by tens of
thousands of lookers-on. And for yet another year I missed it. Mind
you my cousin was rather scathing about the aftemath of the event
this morning, She told me that when she drove
her daughter to work at 4.30am "The old town was in a
dreadful state from last nights pram race! absolute carnage! broken
bottles rubbish and all sorts like a sea across the place. and i know
everyone was having a laugh etc.. but is it so difficult to put stuff
in bins? People with their heads in the gutter and silly tarts half
dressed staggering home! kind of ruins what I hear was a good night."
There's no one likes a
pint more than me as anyone coming camping over the next few days
will testify. But I like to think that I don't leave wreckage for
others to clear up. Why do people do this?
I wasted far too long
slobbing about on Facebook this morning. With er indoors TM"
still asleep I couldn't pack my clothes for the weekend. So I out the
lead on to "Furry Face TM" and
walked him round to Cheryl's where we picked up Cheryl, Lacey and
Lacey's mate Lexi. We then went for a little walk out through the
Godinton estate. It was a lovely day for a walk. We walked up to the
river, we were scared by the sheep, Lacey found one or two geocaches.
By the time we got back to Great Chart we were all rather thirsty so
we popped into the pub. Seven pounds for four soft drinks!!! I would
have had a beer, but it ran out half way through pouring. Advertising
five ales on the boards, they had none. I was told that there was a
delivery due, and they would have ale soon. I mentioned that I was
under the impression that barrels needed time to settle. the young
lad behind the bar looked at me blankly. Oh well, one more pub to add
to the "avoid" list.
Home again to find er
indoors TM" had had a haircut. "Daddies
Little Angel TM" and the Rear Admiral
called on a flying visit to talk beer for the weekend. I then did the
last few bits of packing and spent the rest of the afternoon fiddling
about. Eventually the evening came and we set off to Maidstone. There
was a conglomeration of geocachers (what is the correct collective
noun?) scheduled for 8.08pm on 8-8-13 at junction 8 of the M20.
We arrived and chatted with friends old and new. These cachers
meetings are always a good chance to catch up and gossip.
There was an interesting
five minutes in the queue of McDonalds where a rather overweight
simpleton from behind the counter demonstrated the shortcomings of
putting those of restricted common sense into positions of
responsibility (no matter how limited the responsibility). Far
from drumming up trade, her attempts to streamline the waiting times
merely offended the assembled throng. I nearly laughed out loud when
a rather irate Essex-onian nearly punched overweight simpleton up
the bracket.
The plan for today had
been to go up to Teston and start our camping holiday. This year the
management had decreed that the weekend starts on the Friday, not the
Thursday. I had been sulking about not going off on holiday today. As
it turned out today was a rather good day...
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