Sunday, 14 April 2013

Oxymorons: My Exotic Holiday in Weymouth

Hello dahlink, it's been awful here. In between quaffing Bolly, I have been working terribly hard; something that I normally try to avoid at all costs. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. And I knew that I had overdone it when I broke a nail on my keyboard last week.


"Sacre bloody bleu!" I shouted at Naughty George, "I'm not the type of person who should be working really hard, I should be reclining on a chaise longue, being hand-fed Brioche and Caviar by porcupines!"

Naughty George responded by staring blankly into the middle distance and belching.

"Is that all you can do?" I yelled, watching him turn round and wander off to gawk at his favourite bit of wall.

It probably sounds a bit harsh, shouting at a mutt. But he is so deaf that I am thinking about mounting a pair of ear-trumpets onto his collar. Not only would it help with his hearing, but it would add to his comedy value.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my over-exertions on the work front: Just as I was contemplating the idea of an onerous work-filled future ad infinitum, I heard my iPhone ring. Well that's not strictly true: it just vibrated because I dropped it a week ago and now the screen is cracked and the speakers don't work.

Vibrate Vibrate! Vibrate Vibrate! ......... went the iPhone.

I made a dash to answer the it before it buzzed itself over the table edge. "WHAT?" I asked.

"It's me, Jane," said the voice at the other end. Jane is my cousin and she's not as tall as me. She likes wearing girly things with flowers and hearts on, whereas I am generally mistaken for a Mechanic or a Garbage Disposal Operative.

"Oh hello," I said.

"What's up with you, you miserable git?" asked Jane sympathetically.

"I broke a nail," I replied, before adding, "what can I do for you?"

"Fancy going on a holiday?" she asked.

"God, yeah," I enthused, "I'm exhausted - I answered four emails last week."

"That's lucky because I've already booked somewhere," Jane grinned.

"Really? Where are we going?" I asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Weymouth," she replied.

"Bloody Weymouth?" I exclaimed loudly, "that manky seaside place on the bottom of England?" (I am not a fan of places with sea near them, because the sea has 'bits' floating in it and the sand sticks to your legs - bloody horrible).

"It's not manky," declared Jane indignantly.

"It's just that I had somewhere a bit more like New York or Italy in mind," I responded. 

"Well, we're going to Weymouth and we're going on Friday," she stated firmly.

That proper told me.

And so the date approached ........ and for once I was uncharacteristically organised. I realised a whole day beforehand that I hadn't organised for anyone to look after Naughty George. But, following a few frantic phone-calls, everything was sorted and I dropped him off at a friend's house.

"God, he stinks," commented aforementioned friend.

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, "he needs a bath; it's been a couple of years."

"He's got a yellow haze around him," said friend after eyeing Naughty George studiously.

"Ok, ok. I get the picture ...... he's a bit ripe. But are you still ok to look after him?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just open a couple of windows."

Having successfully dealt with the mutt issue, I allowed myself a day and night of relaxation. But I was rudely awoken from my reverie when Jane arrived at the house, eager as a puppy to get on our way.

"Let's go!" I shouted enthusiastically, running out to her car.

"Where's your luggage?" asked Jane quizzically.

Bloody nora! I just knew I had forgotten something .......... in this case ......... packing some stuff.

I gulped loudly after realising my omission, and Jane shouted "you're bloody useless," in an exasperated fashion.

Honestly, some people get stressed at the most minor of oversights. So I ran back into the house (in an energetic fashion) to sort it all out. 

Needless to say, I packed my case in about 10 minutes flat (by just picking the stuff that was at the front), and was soon good to go.

And because I like Mother Theresa (except I don't have a moustache), I have got some photographs for you ......................

Day 1 - Weymouth Holiday

Pic.No.1 This was Jane when we got stuck in a traffic jam on the way to Weymouth. She can drive with no hands and everything

Pic.No.2  This is me doing a half-hearted Zoolander on the way to Weymouth. We were stuck in a traffic jam and I took 237 photographs of bollards, lights and fences to try and keep myself amused

Pic.No.3 Finally, we arrived at our hotel. It's that big white thing that looks like Alcatraz

Pic.No.4 This was our room at the hotel. It was a lot better than I expected because the hotel looked like a prison from the outside

Pic.No.5 "JANE! Can you take a comedy picture of me lying on my bed?"

Pic.No.6 As soon as Jane saw the bed, she went to lie down. I am going to get her a t-shirt with 'I'm Knackered' emblazoned on the front because she always likes lying down

Pic.No.7 I got really bored whilst Jane was asleep

Eventually Jane did rise from her bed, at which point I told her that I was so hungry that I was going to gnaw a chair leg. She told me that we would get fined by the hotel if I gnawed a chair leg, so instead I entertained myself by reprogramming the TV to Arabic channels.

Pic.No.8 Eventually, we went to Prezzo Restaurant in Weymouth and the food was bloody brilliant. You could order loads of small dishes of pasta ...... a bit like Tapas

Pic.No.9 This is Jane in the Prezzo restaurant

Pic.No.10 This is me in the Prezzo restaurant. I like pictures with me in them. Earlier that evening, Jane had dyed my hair red but I am not sure if you can see it in this picture

DAY 2 - Weymouth Holiday

Jane decided that she wanted another tattoo (she already has three - but I am too wussy to have any and I'd probably get bored of them quickly), so we trawled around all the tattoo parlours in Weymouth to find someone good enough to do it. It was a mission that accomplished within one hour.

Pic.No.11 This is the outline of the tattoo that Jane and I designed. It features the name of her son, Mitchell Owen (my gorgeous nephew), with some flowery shit underneath

Pic.No.12 This is the tattooist at work. It was a bit like a scene from the film 'Deliverance' because she was squealing like a pig. Both Jane and the tattooist tried to persuade me to have a tattoo but I firmly rebuffed the idea

Pic.No.13 This is the finished tattoo .......Christ ..... there was proper pain getting this done. [Note to self: don't get a tattoo}

Pic.No.14 After the tattoo, we walked down to Weymouth harbour. There were loads of boats and everything

Looking at the boats got a bit boring after 3.5 minutes so we decided that we were going to visit the Sea Life centre in Weymouth. It's basically a bit like SeaWorld in Florida. Except 243 times smaller.

I had half expected the highlight of the tour to be a half-dead cod floating sideways on the surface of a stagnant pond, so I was pleasantly surprised with the plethora of fishy shit that they had on display .........  and here is a synopsis of it all ............................................

Pic.No.15 Look! some weird seahorses-that-look-like-stick-instects type of creatures

Pic.No.16 A Shark swimming through the big swimming pool type area

Pic.No.17 And then the excitement peaked

The only thing better than seeing a shark's bumhole would be seeing two sharks shagging. I put that comment on my 'customer review card' as I left the centre.

DAY 3 - Weymouth Holiday

I wanted to go and see 'Portland Bill' which is a bloody huge lighthouse situated on the Portland Peninsula. I am not quite sure why I wanted to see a lighthouse because they are basically just big pocket torches. I suppose it came down to a choice between that or shopping. And I bloody hate shopping.

Bring it on Portland Bill!

Pic.No.18 This is me outside the lighthouse thingy. It was bloody freezing and I had to wear THREE coats, hence the slightly rotund profile

Pic.No.19 This is Jane. She announced that she had hypothermia 5 minutes after exiting the car. That's because she only packed summer stuff even though it was April in England. Muppet

Pic.No.20 After looking at the lighthouse (we couldn't go inside because it was a cash-only entrance fee and because I am like the Queen, I don't carry cash - arse), we ventured another 50 yards to look at the sea

Pic.No.21 The sea can be a bit samey once you have seen a couple of waves. And the air is colder than a date with Ted Bundy

Pic.No.22 This is a rare picture of Jane surrounded by natural stuff, like rocks and water. It's a bit like capturing a picture of a Yeti because 99.99% of the time, her normal habitat has a 52" TV backdrop

Pic.No.23 A big pointy stone thing was situated just behind the lighthouse. I think that they are called obelisks or something like that. You can tell how big it was by looking at the size of the chap on the right hand side of the picture

By the time the picture above was taken, we had been outside of the car for about 13 minutes. 

"I'm not staying outside any more!" hollered Jane, "I am about to die from exposure!"

What a wuss. 

So we got back into the car and set off back towards Weymouth and the hotel ..... I could see that she was dying for a sleep.

Pic.No.24 But on the journey back, I insisted on doing a bit of sightseeing .... like stopping at the top of this cliff. There was an awesome view of Portland Beach and the blue sea even made it look a bit exotic

Pic.No.25 And then on our journey, we accidentally stumbled across a prison built into the hillside. It was full of very naughty people and reminded me of a quote from a film (can you guess which one?): "You are NOT the messiah, you are a very naughty boy."

Pic.No.26 This was the sign outside the prison. It details some of the history behind the building (click on picture to enlarge)

Our final destination of the holiday was a visit to a fort built in 1450AD by Henry VIII. Unlike me, Jane doesn't really like old buildings, but she readily agreed to visit because she had eaten some dodgy shellfish earlier in the day and was grateful to go somewhere with serviceable toilets.

Pic.No.27 This is the fort that Henry VIII built about 650 years ago to stop Johnny F (French and Spanish) invading England

Pic.No.28 Look! Here is the ancient door and flagstone entrance with Henry VIII's coat-of-arms above

Pic.No.29 This is the courtyard of the Fort. The serviceable toilets were through the door on the left

And so my dahlink, after making you trawl through that plethora of photographs, I am going to bid adieu to both yourself and Weymouth ...... bloody great holiday it was ........ thanks cousin!

Pic.No.30 This is me and Jane on our way home in the car. I am wearing oversized glasses because I read somewhere that it makes people focus on your eyes rather than your arse. 

So, have you been up to anything exciting recently? Pray do tell .......


  1. Yep, looks like you had a great time.

    But I bet you didn't bring me back a stick of rock.

  2. Like Masher I am still awaiting a stick of ri
    ock in the post...

    Not sure about the hair though, not part of a mid life crisis is it?

  3. Great post! I have been to Portland, and my mobile kept texting me to say welcome to France!

  4. Go on Jane for getting you out for a bit. At least I did not see any snow in your pictures (unlike here where winter seems to be holding on ... and on ... and on). No tattoo for me, either! Even the pictures looked painful. ;-)

  5. What I nice diversion from that hectic routine plus it gave your broken fingernail time to grow out.

    All you adventures are so interesting. I can't imagine why Jane doesn't like old buildings...I think they are awesome. The prison doesn't really look like a prison much. I think it is a really good thing thay removed all the artillery before making the switch. That could of been a real conflict of interest.
    Also, that's pretty smart to make the convicts remodel the space into a prison.

  6. Toffeeapple15 April 2013 17:15

    Good to see you practising the hiding of the double chin pose at the restaurant ;-)
    Pleased too, that you didn't acquiesce to having a tattoo, they look too darn painful.
    Has your nail grown back yet?

  7. Ooh, those pics of the tattoo happening are bloody hard to look at... ewww....

  8. Nick Riches16 April 2013 07:32

    I remember Portland, Bill was out when we got there. Why didn't you get down the quarry and get some stone to build a house? If it's good enough for Buckingham Palace...

  9. I am chuckling about the are right....I wear large 1998 Vuarnet sun glasses I bought in Maine and are back in style and no one looks at my arse either. So it works! Love your freezing cold stroll of Weymouth and the barrens. Looks a lot like here, cold, wavy, sandy and brrr! Still had a good romp....wink wink .... with the 2 of you! Hi to Jane!

    Ron here!

  10. Wow I am so pleased to have found your blog. your sense of humour is a real tonic and I have been reading you previous posts snorting with laughter

  11. That's why nobody has been staring at my butt! My glasses are too large!!! Maybe I'll just lose my shades all together and see if I can get some action.

    Love the photos by the way. I live vicariously thru you. Because even though you say "i'm so overworked, i work soooooooo hard" somehow you always manage to take a holiday. One of the many things i love about you. but shhh. . .don't tell. . . .

  12. Bodaciousboomer25 April 2013 02:42

    Now that you've gone red the world better watch out!

  13. you are a right jet setter ! miss ya


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