Ah yes - I need to tell you all about Sunday of last weekend (only here, ladies and germs, can you "read all about it" six days after the event even though the report is newly minted).
The day began with one of those almost legendary Millbrooker Towers' breakfasts that I mentioned in the last dispatch on this subject.
One vegetarian version with Linda McCartney sausages (Anal eschews dead animals on his plate).
One carnivores' version, small portion for Sandybum.
And one carnivores' version, standard sized portion (me).
All this was not mere greed, my friends, oh no. It was necessary to fuel the planned arduous walk that we were to undertake upon the beautiful Rame Peninsula. Here's part of Whitsand Bay as we passed it by.
And this is Rame Head, just peeking above a cairn close to Penlee Battery.
En-route we saw many exciting and vaguely disturbing things.
Anal in triplicate, for example.
Or an over-excited stallion. Look, I know this is childish, but Anal and I spent ages sniggering - it's just how it is. I never claimed to be mature.
Moving swiftly on.......
After encountering a kissing gate...
...and a brief rest on a convenient seat...
...we took a short breather at Penlee Point.
We made our way homeward via the Halfway House for an all-but obligatory pint of Betty Stogs'. Then, before you could say "hairy-arsed-potty-mouthed-cantankerous-old-git", we found ourselves in fresher garb upon Shazzerooneypoos' decking for an evening of partying amongst Millbrook's glitterati.
Here we have yours truly talking utter bollocks at Patricia and Aaron who had the good grace to try and look interested.
Liability was in evidence and single handedly cornered the market in talking bollocks at Anal and Sandybum whilst simultaneously winning the much coveted Unflattering Photo of the Day Award for a record seven hundred and ninety fifth time.
Slocombe was there as well, looking remarkably like Peter Noone according to Sandybum. Although not necessarily as he was during his teen-idol years in Herman's Hermits.
Well, this is a photo of Peter Noone (who wasn't at the party) that I found courtesy of Mr Google - see if you think along the same lines as Sandybum and if you do, try greeting Slocombe with a cheery "Hello Mr Noone" next time you see him. That should confuse him.
The dreaded Guitar Moment arrived after I'd imbibed far more than I should have and consequently the entertainment was a little less tuneful and touch less steady-tempo'd than it should have been. Ah well, almost everyone else was steaming as well, so maybe they didn't notice.
Very soon after a failed blast through "No Hopers, Jokers and Rogues", not helped by not really knowing the chord sequence, Mrs The Millbrooker wisely decided it was time to take me home. And so we departed.
And that was Sunday. THanks are, of ourse due, to Shazzerooneypoos and Dong for hosting us.
I won't bother you with what happened on the Monday - it was just a "going home" day for Anal and Sandybum. I'll simply leave you with a parting shot of Anal so you all fondly hanker after the next time he and his lovely wife visit our little haven from reality. You must remember, we are very very mature and serious-minded people.