A Channel crossing, yesterday.
At last a chumrade has conspired and planning some vacational activity. This currently comprises two fiendish plots.
Plot one.
Fast packet out of Pompeii and rapid dash to Cherbourg. Baffle Les Douaniers, confound the Bonapartistes and make a dash to Normandy Wines. Purchase summer wine requirements, eat sumptuous fish luncheon in St Vaast. Drink strong French coffee, get on fast packet home. Spend rest of bank holiday communing with swag, eating off mega-grill in the courtyard (whilst throwing bones over fence into Vet's garden for added amusements) then pootle off to the flying club, where we can strafe our own airfield in return for the local pikeys not stealing our land rover again.
Nothing like a good holiday at home.
Plot two.
Same conspirator, plus a chum who is an unreconstructed champagne Marxist.
Take the barky on the slow route to Normandy from Gosport. Spend relaxing week buying wine, eating sumptuous fish luncheons in St Vaast, Honfleur and Cherbourg. Eat quantities of French meat off barbecue on back of boat, tossing bones at the marauding packs of French curs while we drink strong coffee - for extra amusement.
Then on return to blighty, throw all cheap tobacco overboard to make up for not having to queue to go through customs.
Nothing like a good holiday away.
Take the barky on the slow route to Normandy from Gosport. Spend relaxing week buying wine, eating sumptuous fish luncheons in St Vaast, Honfleur and Cherbourg. Eat quantities of French meat off barbecue on back of boat, tossing bones at the marauding packs of French curs while we drink strong coffee - for extra amusement.
Then on return to blighty, throw all cheap tobacco overboard to make up for not having to queue to go through customs.
Nothing like a good holiday away.
There will be no rowing skiffs, nothing to do with the Thames and absolutely no dog coming with us, will there, Monty.
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