Holiday part 2

I was leaving Croatia. And while I arrived courtesy of BA, I was leaving with Whizz Air (budget budget budget!). They were actually really good and quick and efficient, and being a shorty, the lack of legroom went unnoticed.

So I made it back to London, and had a whistlestop tour of my house, Croydon (to see the Boyfriend) and then on Friday morning I was back up at Euston. To get the train to Wigan.

There was a serious lack of seats on the train and so I ended up next to a Cockney Hen Party on their way to Essex of the North, Blackpool.

After two hours of being serinaded with obscene songs, dirty jokes and a plastic penis straw landing on my foot I had arrived in The North.

Janine picked me up and then we were off on step 2 of the Holiday. A three hour drive to North Wales.

Yes, Holiday part 2 was a camping holiday in Wales. Oh, and the best part

Me: It's so hot in London, whats the weather been like in Abersoch?
Janine: Raining. Constantly. For the last week.

Hurrah! I don't even own a waterproof, let alone wellies...

I also don't own a sleeping bag, camping chair (that everyone else seems to have - I think that is weird) a wetsuit (ha!) sleeping mat (I do have a yoga mat) or a tent.

I did, however bring 4 pairs of shoes (sadly none were waterproof) and 2 bikinis. And some dry shampoo.

When we arrived (I slept the entire way) I realised another problem. We were the first ones. Normally we are the last to get there, and hence all the tents, gazebos, BBQs, etc are set up and ready to go. All I need to do for myself is make a large gin and tonic.

Oh no. Not this time. No no, we were putting up the tents.

There were 5 of us. Four girls and BGI (Big Gay Ian). We were hardly Bear Grylls.

We went for the gazebo first. Eventually it was standing, albeit at a rather alarming angle. It did fall down 24 hours later, but ho hum.

Next came the big tent. Now, one of the issues with being small is that I seemed to be called on often to climb/crawl into the unerected tent to insert poles, hold poles, adjust poles, etc. In the end I lost interest, and decided to appoint myself Barmaid.

By the time we got to tent 3 we had all lost interest. We left it after half an hour. It was still pretty flat, and we seemed to have more poles than tent. But by the time the inhabitants of said tent had arrived, I was well and truly G&T'd up and didn't really care.

It was a bit of a change from Croatia, in that it was cold and rained and really wasn't as cheap. Although we were still by the sea (indeed we even went into the sea! Although left rather quickly when my fingernails turns blue, and I lost the feeling in both feet).

But despite the lesser location and lesser weather, it was by no means the lesser holiday. There was singing and drinking and BBQing and 20 questions (and 54 questions, and even question 33a and b). There were drunken speeches and beach rounders. There were Percy Pigs and Dairy Milk and shopping and surf boards. There was chippy tea (for some there was even chippy tea between bread - chippy sandwich) and morning fry-ups.

At least there was enough sun for beach time on the last day.

Croydon nights

Many people think Croydon is a dump. And many bits are. Many also think that Croydon is dangerous. Again, they are not far wrong.

Fair enough, you will without fail see at least six fights, police vans line the streets, you have to go throug metal detectors to enter most of the clubs, and many of the other clubbers represent the crudest cross-section of society I have ever encountered (and I have a friend from Romford).

But there is something about Croydon that I am strangely attached to.

If you want a cheap, fun, cheesy night out, Croydon is probably your best bet. There are pubs where you can buy a round of five drinks, and still have change for a tenner (The Goose). There are clubs where you pay a whole £2 to get in. Mojama's is a good laugh. There is a Walkabout. And a very nice new cocktail bar (Svelte). And almost anywhere you can dance like a complete lunatic, and not get a single shocked/scared/disapproving look (the wiganer loves this).

And while many of the people you meet may have complete potty mouths, they are surprisngly friendly. One girl I met was more than happy to indulge in near acrobatic dance moves with despite not knowing her at all. Another didn't seem to mind at all when my wiganer accidentally spun into her. In fact, the opposite - she grabbed her hands and joined in.

Don't get me wrong, after long Croydon does start to drag, but go there once a month and I guarentee you will start to develop this strange love.