Ingmar Bergman 1918-2007

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ingmar_Bergman
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000005/

The South East Review!

Last week was holiday time. We loaded up the car and headed south. I somehow managed to forget to put the cap on the water tank in the engine to the crappy rover and drove five hours with no water. About 20 miles from Camber, smoke started to pour out of the engine, and the car started spluttering. Amazingly, we managed to get to our venue, Pontins, in one piece.

Upon arrival, we looked at our place of residence for the forthcoming week to be confronted with what I can only describe as a prisoner of war camp. I’ve done Butlins, and Haven, but this was something else. Decrepit buildings, tatty paintwork. And we hadn’t even seen our chalet yet.

I called the breakdown service who came and towed my car away for fixing, and hit the Chalet.
Mould. Mouldy curtains, dirty floor, and an overwhelming smell of damp. The kind of smell you get at the END of a camping holiday. Still, the kids didn’t notice, they were excited to be away, so we made the most of it and went to the Pontins ‘Fun Factory’ club. All that was missing from the fun factory was the ‘arbecht macht frei’ slogan over the gate.

The entertainment was dire. The kid’s characters had no qualities to them, and therefore the kids didn’t identify with the characters as they did at Haven and Butlins. During one kids show, performed by puppet rats, the rats bombarded the audience about how they only came to Pontins because it’s cheap, and that they all have asbo’s. This as well as jokes about Stephen Hawkings.

The adult entertainment was just as bad, like the worse singers of X-Factor, the Bluecoats decimated a whole range of ‘standards’ every night.

The amusement arcade games were a travesty, and three times in one night I had to seek assistance to get money that had been eaten by the machines. One time when asking for assistance, I told the assistance that the machine hadn’t dispensed the ticket’s I’d won for kirsty, only to be ‘Shrugged at’ whilst being told ‘We’re busy’. Pathetic. As I told them. Later on in the ‘Fun Factory’ I tried to get a drink, and was waiting for 20 minutes before giving in. It wasn’t that busy, yet the staff were completely inept at anything. After the Barney show the kids wanted to watch, which was on for half an hour, I took a look at the bar to see the same people who I was stood next to, still unserved!

That night I decided to get a bottle of pop from a vending machine rather than wait. It ate my £1.20. What a surprise. I asked a security guard where I could get my cash back to be told, from the Arcade. Not again!!
We added a few days to our holiday (as when not in camp we had a ball), and on the original day of check out, (2 days prior to our new check out day), we were bothered THREE times by staff trying to throw us out of our chalet. On the third time I stormed into the reception to complain. There were a couple in front of me checking in, going mad because their son had a disability that meant he couldn’t walk more than 10yards. They’d called head office before booking and were assured they’d be given a chalet near the amenities. On arrival they’d been placed at the furthest point away from the amenities. They argued and argued till they went blue but were not given a new chalet. The best Pontins had to offer was “You can hire a wheelchair from us”, not taking into consideration how offensive this remark could be on many levels. Disgraceful. There are loads (and I mean LOADS) more things I could mention and moan about, but I’m not going to mention the good times we had away from the holiday camp.

From the second day onwards, when we got the car back, we hit the sights of the southeast, taking advantage of the beautiful weather that we, and only we, had.

We did:

Rye:

Nice town, with a the ruins of Camber Castle and some great beautique shops.

Brighton:
Kirsty was a big fan of the beach railway. I took a look at the nudist beach, but it was full of men, and men only. I exited quick sharp!

Beachy Head:

Lisa and Elizabeth were not fans of the wind, but Kirsty was amazed, especially by the lighthouse, which I told her was from Fraggle Rock!

Dungeness:

I loved Dungeness. It’s how I feel Iceland would be like! Desolate, Barren, but Interesting. Kirsty and me went up the old lighthouse, and my legs hurt for two days afterwards! You can't go into the Nuclear Power Station no longer, due to the current political climate. I photographed the Rover there. When you see nice car adverts, they're always parked outside beautiful scenery such as beaches or chateaux's, so a Nuclear Power Station seemed apt for the Rover.

Hastings:

We initially didn’t like Hastings as it was like Cannock upon sea, full of Chavs and high street chain stores. We then discovered the Old Town, which reminded me of Amsterdam with its small streets and boutique shops. This was lots more fun. I took us all up the Cliff Railway, Elizabeth cried the whole way up, much to the chagrin of the French visitors (The floor was slippy, due to the spilt blood from where my heart bled for the poor French tourists!)

Battle:

We visited Battle Abby, site for the battle of 1066 between Richard the Conqueror and King Harold. I took an audio-tour round the whole battlefield, whereas the girls went the short route (due to the push-chair). Expected it to be dull, but was in fact one of the highlights of the holiday.

Finally, we visited Ashford to see a mate before doing some charity shopping!, and a good time was had by all, as you will see from the pics. Next time we go to the south-east, we’ll give Pontins a miss though!

Happy Picture

A happy picture, and a rare 'good' picture of me!

I hate the smell of velour in the morning... Lichfield Medieval Festival

Evan/Danny/Elizabeth/Kirsty - Pre-snapping point.

We went to the medieval festival at Lichfield this weekend. My god, what a nightmare of a day. One person amongst us decided they were hungry, and went off for a sandwich. ONE HOUR later they turned up. It’s hard to walk from point A to B in a town you’re not familiar with, I’m sure you’ll agree, but c’mon! An hour! Point A was at the most, 400 metres away from point B, and the route was staggeringly linear.

When the person came back, everyone left waiting was at snapping point. We’d had to endure one child desperate for the toilet (and one adult), and another child going absolutely mental. It would’ve been quieter in Basra than waiting for the sandwich person.

Anyhow’s, sandwich person returned and off we went. We walked about 200 meters only to find out that sandwich person now had to EAT his sandwich, and that the hour-long expedition was merely to obtain a sandwich. Breaking point was looming.

The sandwich was eaten and off we went, up the hill to the jam-packed medieval street market. The view was fantastic, highlights was a ninety-year old’s arse wobbling away at my nose level (it was a sharp hill), a lovely sound it made two, as the peach velour rubbed away at the huge legs that the material clung so lovingly to. “Don’t look at that fat peachy pensioner arse” my common sense was telling me. “ Look to the ground….. It’s safe there”. I look to the ground for the next 10 metres. Bunions. It’s sunny so everyone’s wearing sandals. And the majority of people visiting this festival have an average age of about 70. “Look back up,” shouts my common sense. I look up.

Oh No, It’s another arse, this time in a velour dress that the knickers are poking out of. It was a major fire hazard in that sun, the amount of flock/velour fabric rubbing away in direct sunlight. At this point I bumped into my mate Rachel (hi!) who could tell that I looked somewhat stressed.

Onwards we went. We saw one of Kirsty’s school friends, about ten feet ahead of us, but couldn’t reach them due the gaggle of pensioners on Mobility Scooters (which, incidentally, as it was Live Earth day, you’d think they’d leave at home so that they don’t create a higher ‘carbon footprint’ I mean, they’ll be dead soon so it’s about time they ought to be out to impress the big man by helping save the planet!)

Sandwich person got stroppy at this point, as he couldn’t handle the volume of velour arse, and broke the pushchair his child was in. Now we had to wade back through the throng (who thankfully weren’t thonged) and find a shop to buy a new pushchair from, all the while my nephew was making a noise not too dissimilar to someone who had had a vasectomy by a doctor who mistook vinegar for anaesthetic.

I bailed at this point. The only thing medieval about this festival was that it was making me feel like getting medieval on the people who were making it nightmarish to get round, the one's who could see a pushchair was coming, and refused to move. This festival was too busy for pushchairs, (and mobility scooters!). We found a child wandering about who saw me and seemed to think I was it’s mom?!?! We eventually tracked her parents down watching a medieval demonstration. The parent had no teeth and looked like they were on crack. Which is odd, how come it thought I was it's mom. A: I'm male. B: Crack does not make you fat. C: I have teeth. The parents that were more interested in watching men dress up and pretend to be knights rather than look after their children acted despicably. It’s a good job it was I that the kid approached rather than someone with an evil-streak that extends further than a blog-page rant!

I am.........

You are?

http://www.bbspot.com/News/2004/10/extension_quiz.php

(thanks Mark!)

Daft Punks.

Adventurers.