Firstly let me apologise for the sudden slump in blog entries but life in Wolvey just isn’t that exciting in any way shape or form. I fear I am turning into that person who I have sat and poked fun at on campsites. The member of every club going who has their strict setting up rituals, colour coded storage and significant half in matching clothing – for I have joined the Caravan Club! The chance of a short stay in the Lake District (I’ll spare you the reason why – you really don’t want details) proved how limited I was with just C&CC sites on offer (that’s Camping and Caravanning Club for those of you unfamiliar with this life) so having found a site just over a mile and a half from where I needed to stalk err I mean be, I decided to join up having convinced myself I would save the fee after 5 nights stay. I now appear to be developing an attitude towards other campers. To start with it was just Saggy Boobs across the way but then any woman with a chest around her hips and no means of support who wears the grubbiest ‘once was white’ dressing gown in the day in public deserves to be mocked. Then there’s the odd couple who bring a new meaning to shifty. She swans around in her knickers outside and looks at the rest of us like we are reclining Walrus. Cue that old Midlands Stalwart – the Chav family complete with snarling Staffy and a cloud of obscene language and you get the picture I’m painting here. I seriously think it is time I left Wolvey for pastures new as I’m sure that Club sites are a little less accepting of such slovenly behaviour.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to order my Club fleece and pennant and whatever other tat takes my fancy….