I've never been to Cleethorpes before and I thought it was all rather dandy. Was a bit surprised by it actually, for once it was a gloriously sunny day, I met up with my old pal, ex Pontins sparring partner and full on loon Terry Ferguson, who regaled with tales of his recent holiday in Afghanistan amongst other things. We had Guinness, Caffreys, Worthingtons and fish chips and mushy peas don't yer know. It almost made me forget of the foul mood from earlier when I went to the wrong campsite.
It is now pissing down again as I write this at half 6 in the morning, and am now looking at a 15 mile jaunt to North Summercoates (?).
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