Subject:  Come on over to my place, Yeah, were having a (Christmas) Party - Chalet 201. Brean 70s weekend 2008 |
Author:
The Glitter Munchkin
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Date Posted: 13:52:59 11/25/08 Tue
(user-5445f2d0.lns4-c13.telh.dsl.pol.co.uk/84.69.242.208)
Here we are again then chaps - pens poised, memories trying to sort themselves into categories (what really happened, what do I wish had happened, what do I need to erase from my memory, what might have happened if only a lack of sleep and a bit of over indulgence hadn't got in the way, and what bits have put themselves on automatic repeat) and the car is still full of luggage. I am sat here in my tartan pjs, with Red Bull and the left over Quality Street from the party, and it all seems so far away already. Still, that can only mean that next year is getting closer.
The Brean experience began early again this year, with the fabulous Sussi arriving on the Thursday afternoon, and the pair of us setting off for the 70s a day earlier than usual. I had collected Sussi from Salisbury train station on the Thursday lunchtime, and we had behaved normally and passed a few pleasant hours in the city, before collecting Jazz from school and setting off for home to attempt the usual impossible task of loading everything into the car. The luggage pile this year was impressive. As usual, Sussi was travelling light with one small holdall, and the rest of the car (including the entire back seat) was filled to bursting point. This years chalet party required a lot of 'stuff'. Next year, to be alternative, maybe the chalet party won't happen, maybe I wont dress up, and maybe all my luggage will fit into a matchbox. As we were travelling on the Thursday there was no David Chastity to fit into the car, which was just as well really as there was no room and he would probably have had to have been strapped to a skateboard and pulled along behind us wearing a bobble hat and mittens threaded through his coat sleeves to keep warm. It was weird travelling without him though, and I wish he had been there. He is part of our Brean routine and without him there was no one sat in the back talking bollox throughout the journey, bouncing up and down like a 5 year old looking out the window to see if we were there yet and wondering out loud if 17 pro-plus tablets in one hour is excessive or just purely necessary, and how far up his nose was it possible to stick a finger before his brain burst. And no one to look after us and make us feel special. The car was in perfect working order this year, complete with CD player behaving as it should, the only problem being that the handful of Cds I had grabbed for listening to in the car were a bit shit really, and by the time we had got as far as the edge of Bath we had exhausted our in-car entertainment to the point that I was forced to pull over and risk life and death by opening the boot at the side of the road to rummage for some Glam. Cue Slade at high volume
. Now we were really on our way. We had a really shit journey down as the traffic was dreadful and the wind and rain were howling. We had travelled through Bristol, and even when the city lights were well behind us the sheer volume of traffic on the road meant that I was forced to drive legally. Fun and games followed as we turned off the main road and heading for the winding lanes that lead to Brean, as the road was closed ahead - but unfortunately for us the diversion signs had been mucked about with ( in true Wacky Races tradition, I blame Dick Dastardly
.. And Mutley) and we were a long way down before it became apparent that we couldn't get any further. We eventually got to the fabulous Yew Tree House B&B establishment thing for about 7.15pm, checked in, dumped our overnight bags in our room and set off to find somewhere to eat. Our fine lady hostess had given us instructions for a short cut through a chalet park to take us out onto the main road down to the beach, and had also advised us that as the season was over there may not be much open, and to be very careful as some of the pubs were undesirable. She wasn't joking about not much being open and we were desperate to meet some undesirables.
So - out of the gate of the B&B, walk 100m up the footpath at the side
. And then get completely and utterly bloody lost wandering around a chalet park in the dark. A chalet park that was deserted as it was out of season. After several wrong attempts we found our way to the main gate and then commenced our quest in search of food. A few spots of rain were falling but it was ok - we were on a high and looking forward to a great evening sat in a pub for hours. Somewhere. Anywhere actually.
We walked along at quite a quick pace
past all the familiar landmarks along the coast road
. The bus shelter, the take away (which was open), the 'Brean' sign, which I had to photograph and send to Chast in a 'na-na-na-na-na we are in Brean' kind of way, the Wimpy sign outside the Brean Leisure Park (closed
boo), the Cafι (hurrah for the cafι), the shrine that is Pontins
. Then on further down towards the beach. Every time we saw a light up ahead we were convinced it was a pub, but we never found one open. We found churches, a post office, various car dealers, and a huge assortment of holiday accommodation ( a lot of which was open and has residents so what the hell did they do with themselves during the evenings?). But no pub. After 45 minutes of walking we had decided that this really wasn't fun any more and therefore we made an executive decision (well I think Sussi probably declared she was fucked off with walking actually) to turn round and go back. It was now 8.15pm. We knew we had the 45 minute return journey to cover, and decided that we would call in at the takeaway that was opposite Pontins, grab some food and head back to the B&B and get pissed in our room using the alcohol stored in the car for the weekend (hmmmmm cold cheap mulled wine. classy). We walked. We walked some more. We couldn't find the takeaway that was open as it was now closed. We walked some more. We swore a lot. By 9pm we were back where we had started from, outside the chalet park, wondering if the last 90 minutes had really happened, and wondering if we dared walk back through the chalet park again as a short cut (ha!!) or if we should stick to the road. We had no food and were now contemplating raiding the party food that was in the car. That would mean 2 females sharing a room, one blonde and Swedish
the other with very short hair and big boots
. Walking through the the front of a B&B armed with a packet of cocktail sausages. I think eyebrows may have been raised and tongues may have started wagging if we had done that. We then made an executive decision ( well, I think Sussi probably said 'fuck it, I'm hungry') to walk in the other direction, back towards Berrow, as we were impressed with ourselves for the 90 minutes exercise we had just had and felt that we should reward ourselves by continuing our journey and hopefully finding heaven in the form of a takeaway. The craving for chips was getting too much (although the odd thought of a battered sausage crossed my mind, but I knew I wouldn't put that in my mouth). 9.20pm and we are approaching the city (?) lights of Berrow. We passed an elderly bloke who seemed shocked that anyone should be out wandering about, and asked him if there was a takeaway up ahead in the village. He informed us that there was. Hoorah. But that it was closed as it now out of season. Bollox. But there was a pub. It looked hopeful as we approached the pub - a huge restaurant on the side and lists of mouth watering food on display. We strolled into the bar to find it deserted apart from about 4 locals gathered round the pool table, and a deathly hush fell over the place. We smiled sweetly at the barmaid and asked to see the menu - at this point it was 9.30pm. She informed us that they had stopped serving food at 9pm and then looked on in amazement as I howled loudly and banged my head up and down on the bar, shaking my fists and stamping my very tired feet, wailing something about 2 hours walking and just wanting food, and Sussi sank to her knees and started sobbing and cursing in Swedish. Then it happened
a flash of bright light, the sound of harps being plucked, and a heavenly voice behind us (no, it wasn't Chast in yet another gay outfit)
. And a very nice lady offered to go and open up the kitchen for us and get us some food. We went through to the restaurant and drooled over the menu, before deciding on
chips. The thing is, there are times when absolutely ONLY chips will do - and this was one of them. By half past midnight 2 knackered females had devoured their chips and a rather disgraceful amount of red wine, and had completely put the world to rights. Plans were already being made for Brean 2009 and both of us were avoiding looking at the clock as we knew that we had to face the half hour hike back down the coast road to our original starting point 5 hours earlier, of Yew Tree House B&B, but this time we had the added inconvenience of being a bit tanked up. Our sincere grateful thanks to the staff at The Berrow Inn for looking after us, and a special thanks to the barmaid for allowing me to overhear a comment she made to one of her friends when talking about being at the pub
'Have you been here since you were last in?'. Baffling. Help me out T-j.
The road was devoid of any cars on the 30 minute walk back, and miraculously the time passed quickly, with much screaming with laughter, no falling into the ditch, no stepping in dog poo in the blackness, no accidentally sliding on squashed slugs and snails, plenty of zig-zagging across the road, but lots of giggling and whispering and pushing and shoving as we climbed the stairs to our room and Sussi remembered that there was a lovely display of porcelin right outside our room on a dresser, and we had to get past it without falling on it and breaking anything.
Anyway, true to my usual form I was awake just after 6.30, although a certain amount of snoozing followed and we eventually made it down to breakfast for 9.30. Then it was time to check out and
.. Go back to the 70s.
We arrived at Pontins at 10.30. Fuck - it looked deserted. We decided to be brave and drive in through the gates to see what would happen. The security staff informed us that nothing was happening until 3pm but agreed that we could park the car up anyway. We boldly drove down past chalet 201 and parked in the spaces there - it was going to be our home for the next few days and we had bloody better get allocated it again. We pressed our noses against the glass as we walked past it - it was all ready for us
beds made
. Free tea and coffee etc by the kettle
..all that it needed was us. Let us in you buggers. Cant we stay on the Thursday night in chalet 201 next year??? We stuck our heads into reception on the way past too, but absolutely noone was about. Very weird - had we got the right day? We crossed the road and sat in the deserted cafι with our mugs of coffee, taking in the Brean-ness of it all
. Staring across the road waiting for any signs of life. Just after 11.30 we crossed back over and wandered into the main building (lets see if anyone is brave enough to kick us out - Sussi had decided that she wasn't going anywhere now). People were milling around now and we were informed that the bar would be opening at 12, so we sat in the warm empty bar and watched people go about their work. The bar didn't actually open until 1pm, and check-in started at 2.30. Our boys, T-j and Chast arrived
.. And before we knew it we were in. The key to 201 was safely in my hand and off we went to crank the heating up to full blast.
Having unpacked the car and put the usual standard decorations up (the disco ball above the cooker and the silver shimmer curtains up at the windows, and this years piece of fabric on the sofa), and checked to see if any of the things we left behind on purpose last year were still there (the sellotape is still on the window frames) we headed off to slum it in chalet 481 with T-j and Chast.
And from here on in, the weekend kicked off.
Personally I think I rate Brean 2007 higher than 2008 overall. There were of course, moments of fabulousness, but things were definitely 'different' this year. This year I loved the party in my chalet on the Saturday lunchtime (this year the theme was Christmas
.. Complete with fully decorated tree, decorations, crackers, Christmas food, mulled wine etc), and I loved the continued silliness. I loved Friday afternoon in the company of 'Style o' the 70s', the worlds first glam rock stylophone band. In fact, I love every minute in their company at Brean, even tho they didn't share themselves with us as much as last year - they are the Robin and Larry to our Chrissie and Jo. Or are we George and Mildred. Or are they? Some bits I didn't love but we will scoot round those and ignore them. I had a couple of worrying things on my mind across the weekend, Saturday in particular, and I can assure everyone that asked - no I wasn't in a pissy mood on the Saturday night whenever you saw me outside, I was just rather busy popping back to the real world every now and then to check on some extremely important issues. I had another little issue on the Sunday - but no I most definitely did not have a hang over. My sparkle was lightly zapped temporarily, but in a nice way, and once I had got over the hurdle of about 3pm on Sunday afternoon I was fine. Our beautiful landscaped garden looked a bit rough and overgrown, and some of the bushes have now reached such a height (oooooh about 2'6" probably) that I cant see over them to see who is coming down the road towards us. But this year - we had a garden bench. Ok, so it wasn't exclusively mine, but it was behind my bush (!!) and Malc helped me steal it at the party and move it round so that the guests could sit down. How posh is that.
Next year is booked as usual, and it seems the boys are going upmarket. Damn
they will lower the tone of the posh chalets, but the sentiment behind it has to be done. It will be nice to have them nearer to us tho
.. So close that we can smell their Brut, sausage rolls, stale fags, sweaty socks and general 70s aroma. Mmmmm lovely. Wouldn't change them for the world.
Maybe Kelvin would like to lay on the chalet party for us in 2009
. It will be mine and Sussis 10th Brean event.
The line up looks fabulous but we won't count our glam stars before they are hatched. Kelvin does need to realise that we NEED Shang-a-Lang back. I am panicking already here about who is getting the S-A-L award for crappiness this year and next year.
I broke my own rules this year as usual, but that's ok. I ate even less than usual, drank a bit but nothing too bad. I know when to stop and I stopped well short. I laid off the Red Bull. I slept more than usual. Possibly danced less than usual, and didn't dress up on the last night. But with all the exercise I got on Thursday night I can hardly be blamed for having tired legs.
The 'educational aspect' of Brean was ever present. This year I learnt that:-
(I) I love listening to crap about squirrel bombs, cheese pies with bits of brains in, purchased from a butcher, complete with Jean Claude, and something about crops
.. But once again it has to be in the right company otherwise it might actually make some sense.
(ii) There is nothing more fabulous than those things which are warm, comfortable, familiar, safe and fluffy. And just for a fleeting moment - nothing else matters.
(iii) I remained destined to walk around in my pjs and barefoot in the rain at stupid o'clock in the morning
(iv) Clive James AND swearing are both very very funny.
(v) There is nothing that Viv wont do.
(vi) Sometimes its nice not to have the hassle of dressing up, particularly when one of the most fabulous false eyelashes in the world has gone AWOL.
(vii) 7am on a Sunday morning is not a good time to be listening to a news report that is out and about with West Mercia police.
(viii) 70s husbands are the best ever.
(ix) Jupitar Liar continues to kick ass
(x) I may have had mushrooms on Friday morning at the B&B but they weren't a patch on those I had from Daves plate on Sunday. Just don't look at my hands bastard.
unless that's the whole point.
On returning to our chalet on Friday evening, Sussi and I prepared ourselves for our public and made the obligatory contact with home. My outfit of choice was my beautiful COMFORTABLE white disco trouser suit, worn this time with a wide collared black shirt and black platform boots. I was all set to wear the long black and purple-ish wig, but Sussi over ruled me and chose the brown flicked one. We cracked open the snowballs and the boys arrived to share a gay bottle with us before we all headed off to the venue.
Right - time to get cracking on the music
.
TOO REX
I liked these boys
.. Different feel than Trextasy, much more ackowledgement that the audience actually exist, Ride a White Swan in the set list, and a few sharp cheek bones. A bit of dancing, a few photos and some very smiley happy people.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 78
ALVIN STARDUST
Woohooo. Checking back I have seen Alvin 6 times in the last 4 years. 5 of those performances have been ok-ish but a bit dull on reflection. This one was great. Maybe its just because it was Brean, but even the bits I wasn't keen on still worked for me. Alvin was looking great and sounding even better.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 85
PLANET ABBA
The evening was back to front. Planet Abba are ok at what they do, and everyone likes a bit of Abba
. But you need it at the start of the weekend
on first
. To warm you up before you start getting too fussy about what you are listening to. Would have preferred them on first and Too Rex or Alvin on last, but never mind. They wiggled through their set list complete with silly hair and beards (the blokes, not the girls - they were false beards and wigs weren't they. Please?)
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 67
Then it was time for more grooving to our Superstar DJ Neil, to some rather quiet music levels, and time to head off for bed. White trouser suit and black shirt deposited in a heap. Eye lashes removed and safely stashed away for tomorrow. Things done that needed doing. And sleep. For oh, about 3 hours. Its Brean, yippee. Sleep is for wimps.
Saturday dawned bright (despite the fabulous sounding downpour overnight) and early. I am not entirely sure how we managed it this year, but Sussi and I were ready for the party with time to spare and I had fitted in a gorgeous soak in the bath. Thanks to all who attended, and to Ziggy for the sounds. And thank you yet again for clearing the chalet up afterwards for us. Much appreciated. I am not sure that Brean will ever recover from the sight of Viv dressed as a space hopper, Vince using every ounce of his concentration to play Silent Night on the Stylophone whilst still clutching his pint, Mutley giving a whole new meaning to 'getting pissed', and Christmas crackers being pulled in my classy landscaped garden. But where were the ducks this year? More party goers in attendence, but I still never managed to do a full headcount.
PAUL DA VINCI
The afternoon got off to a slow start with Paul DaVinci. Not my cup of tea (but then even a cup of tea isn't my cup of tea), although Sugar Baby Love sounded good, and Sussi and I declared that his version of Shang-a-Lang was even worse than that performed by Shang-a-Lang. Result.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 54
A short pause for the quiz which is against my religion to do, and a pleasant half hour or so spent outside with Donna and Lynn, a phone call to MP, and then an emergency dash to the chalet to find pro-plus for some poor girl who was suffering a bit but didn't want to go back to have a sleep and miss any of the fun.
THE FAKE BEE-GEES
This was great. Really great. Unexpected and really great. There was a Bee-Gees act on one afternoon at Brean about 4 or 5 years ago but I only saw the last song, and sure it wasn't this lot - they wouldn't have been out of nappies back then. Lots of dancing and a good time had.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 77
More dancing to the disco followed and I then allowed myself to be persuaded to watch football in the ball. Having never watched a football match from beginning to end in my life, I settled down with Chast, Sav and Sussi (they are football sluts compared to me, the football virgin), to learn what I had to do, and what I had to say. Chast tried his best. He talked me through bits, didn't get mad at me when I referred to Tevez as a c*nt (again), got excited over what should have been a penalty I think, shared my Peanut Chunky Kitkat, and was generally adorable, and even gave me strong alcohol to aid my enjoyment. But I wimped out at half time and left the lunatics to it. But I tried, ok
. I tried.
And anyway, I had to get my false eyelashes and make up .. for Saturday night. It was 6.30 by this time - only an hour to go until the evening kicked off. My Saturday night outfit was loud, very green, over the top and heavy. But it was ok. My wig
. Ah my favourite red one from last year. My eye lashes
heavenly. My mindset
.. Bring on the red wine.
Our gentlemen callers didn't come to collect us on Saturday evening. All in all this weekend they havent been as attentive as they were last year and they were missed. Sussi and I headed up to the venue on our own (boo) and although we were there only just past 7.30 the place was filling up and we ended up with some quite rubbishy seats. Our seats on Friday night and Saturday afternoon had been down beside the disco - a spot right on the edge of the dance floor that allowed us to permanently feel part of the party, even when the music was a little bit dodgy. This time we were further up the room but off against the wall. It was crap. Maybe I was just out of sorts.
ROY WOOD
Well. Ummm. Yeah right. Load of shit. I was down the front with Chast when he came on stage and after about 10 seconds of the second track I was making my way out of the venue. Just not my thing. Very pleasant, very musical, but not for me
.. So it was a great opportunity to go and get some things sorted
. Hence me sitting outside concentrating on a few phone conversations that were necessary.
Think I was back inside by the time he rolled out Christmas. Boo. We beat you to it that weekend anyway mate.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 25
A bit more dancing followed and then a nice surprise in the form of :-
JOHN SPRINGATE
.. from The Glitter Band coming onstage and doing a bit of stuff. Only a handful of tracks, but the guy was great. The voice sounded good, the confidence was a bit slow to get going, but the audience was extremely appreciative. Big smiles from myself, Chast and T-j.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 81
THE REAL THING
Yawn. That time of the weekend when I leave and don't come back until its finished (although last year that honour went to the Les and Legendary performance too). Might have been in the room when they started the first track, but for the next goodness knows how long I was sat outside
people watching and talking. I seriously cant stand them. Some serious catching up and some good conversations with friends old and new.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 15
The good thing about Saturday night was that Marc arrived. I have had a shit summer for a variety of reasons and this big hard man (ha! What a pussycat) has been my rock. Sounds a bit naff but very true. He has been at the end of the phone constantly and always knows when to say the right thing. And swears as much as me.
KOO-KA-CHOO
Here we go again
.. Excuse me while I just find last years review and cut and paste the exact same words as I am positive they apply again
..
Exactly the same as last year, and the year before, and the year before. Yawn Yawn Yawn, stupid 80s american glam rock wigs, Kiss make up, and for some reason ... lots of poking your tongue out. Go away you silly silly people.
More time spent outside people watching and a return to the venue just as they finished.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 5
There was only a little bit more dancing after this. We just weren't up for it really as the music was just not to our collective tastes. Saturday is normally disco/northern soul night, therefore it is always a little bit sensible to leave the venue early and attempt to sleep. Or alternatively mess about and talk bollox for hours and then fall asleep when you are incapable of doing anything else.
The perfect eyelashes were removed and deposited on the table (damn, why didn't I put them away properly) ready for re-use on Sunday, but somehow they ended up on the floor
. Well one of them was
. Stuck hard to the floor like a big beautiful horny squashed 70s spider. Fuck knows what happened to the other one. RIP the most fabulous eyelashes on the planet :o(
Good morning Sunday. Ummmmm yeah. Thank you for the little bit of sunshine
I will keep my Sunglasses on thanks. Little bit delicate but not outrageous, but other issues going on. Eyes like piss holes in the snow so probably best to stick to the glasses. Fabulous breakfast in the cafι with our boys
thank you both for at least keeping that tradition with us this year. Chast - your mushrooms are simply the best, but really wished you had taken the knickerbockerglory challenge. Ah well - there is always next year. Really silly time in the arcade with Chast and Sussi
. David dearest, I may not have had the opportunity to get in a car with you driving, but I am proud to say your driving of the crop lorry and taking the rocket to airport (I think that was right???) were superb. Anyone that can drive an HGV up a huge steep flight of steps is ok in my book. I will share my Yorkie with you anyday.
We sort of accidentally ended up in the bar next. Not sure how that came about.
We staggered our way back into the main hall for the afternoon shennanigans. Superstar DJ Neil kicked off proceedings with a playing of Jupiter Liar, although for some reason DC was a bit restrained. Or maybe he was just sat quietly appreciating the sounds. Sunday afternoon held something that me and Chast were greatly looking forward to, whilst be nervous at the same time
.
THE KARPENTERS
Anyone that attempts a Carpenters tribute has to get it so bloody right or else its shit. Luckily for us, The Karpenters got it right and the goose bumps were present for the rest of the afternoon. Beautiful, just beautiful. Scarily beautiful actually and the perfect accompaniment for a snoozy Sunday. A great choice of tracks although I could have thought of a couple more I would have like to have heard.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 97
THE DEGREES
Saw these ladies a couple of years ago when they kicked off the weekend, and this time I was ready for them. Nice bit of singing
one pretty lady
.. One weird looking lady, and one that I didn't really notice. Lovely sparkly frocks and a greater appreciation for their music due to a more mellow time spot.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 83
Couldn't resist the temptation to start Chast off on the Pernod and blackcurrant. I know it was a bit early and on top of goodness knows what else, but the giant leap into aniseedness may as well have been taken at this point.
Sunday had turned very very mellow, and the thought of racing back to the chalet to change and plaster on the face wasn't actually very appealing. Plus there was the serious issue of the missing fabulous false eyelash and its never a good idea to break open a new packet at an event such as Brean - particularly when none of the spare pairs are anywhere near as fabulous as the RIP pair. I would have been pining for them all evening. If I had been in new eyelashes all weekend it may have been different - but to follow 2 superb eyelash nights with something less superior would only have put a dampener on the evening. Due to the fact that there was a lot of catching up to do, I didn't bother going back to the chalet. We moved out into the bar and Angela, Richard and myself were joined by Donna and Lynn, and shortly after by Sussi. Thank you people. I have lost a lot of virginities this Brean, despite it being my 9th, and not returning to the chalet to change was yet another of them. I therefore didn't dress up on the Sunday night. The bar wasn't very busy and it was a good place to be.
We moved back into the main venue when the doors opened, and luckily managed to get seats in just about our favourite spot. Hoorah for us.
By the time BC Sweet came on things still didn't seem right. It felt too early for a start!
BC SWEET
Ok
my favourite band of the weekend but (and Marc knows this) not my favourite performance. It didn't click with me properly tonight. Maybe the sound levels weren't right, maybe I just wasn't up for it. Maybe I find a certain person (Kevin!!) likes the show to be all about him and not what he is singing. There was nothing wrong with the performance as a whole, but it just didn't float my boat to quite the height I was expecting.
Which bothers me.
AND WHERE THE FUCK WAS FUNNY FUNNY?
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 92
HEROES
Another fabulous set from this lot. I really like them but I am still not sure about having them amongst the line up in Brean. Good selection of tracks that I loved, and good loud noise, and a very busy dance floor.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 80
THE FOUR TOPS SHOW
Oooooh this was nice. Professional, entertaining to watch and although not really up my street, a great chunk of entertainment. Nice suits, lovely dancing and lots and lots of applause at the end of it. And what better way to finish off the weekend than in a true blaze of glory like this.
CLAPOMETER SCORE = 85
More cheesey disco with Neil doing what he is so good at, and a fair amount of silly dancing. Thank you to my dancing partner for the Paper Roses moment. The pleasure was once again all mine.
And then it was over. Time to lose another virginity. For the first time ever I was staying at a 70s weekend on a Sunday night. I have never done it at Brean and I never did it the few times at Butlins either. I suppose I just like to get away as soon as its all over - don't want to be hanging around and getting the 'over-ness' of it rubbed in my face on a Monday morning. So
without attempting any of our packing, it was straight to bed and sleep was quickly achieved. And snoring apparently although I would dispute the fact that my finest snoring was echoing around the room or else I would have woken myself up with the sheer volume of it. That's what usually happens. If I didn't get to the point of waking myself up then it was just a gentle episode. I was awake early on Monday morning. 6am actually. I lay in bed tossing and turning and sighing, and managed to doze a little bit but was irritated and had a headache and was already thinking that I needed to be on my way home. I got myself a glass of water and got back into bed to attempt to sleep some more, but the fidgets had set in and I knew I was just going to have to make a move by the time it had got to 8.15 and get up before I completely disturbed the sleeping beauty with the fluffy head poking out of the top of the duvet.
I managed to return to bed a while later when the packing was done. Vince popped round to collect Vivs birthday presents and the large orange space hopper that was hogging half our sofa. Lynn called in to say a tearful farewell. Chast and T-j dropped by to see if we were having breakfast. I had to weigh up half an hours power nap against toast and coffee
and the power nap won although I would dearly have loved to have sat with them for that one last time before saying goodbye to everything. I guess if it wasn't for the fact that there is so much luggage then the whole 'leaving and loading the car' wouldn't be such a nightmare. Another point in favour of travelling light next year.
To my fellow attendees I would like to say the following:-
Sussi
My partner in crime. Thank you for your voy space. Thank you for everything. For climbing on the kitchen cabinets; for making me eat bananas (not those bananas t-j); for our marathon walk on Thursday night; For the fabulous way you can raise your eyebrows and shake your head at times and I know every single thing you are thinking; For the speed at which you can prepare for Christmas; for yet again taking everything in your stride; for being prepared to see the car park at least of every motorway service station between Brean and Heathrow airport so that I could frequently powernap! Thank you for responding to my remark that I felt like shit by stating honestly that I looked like shit. For swearing. Thank you for choosing my wigs. Thank you for putting up with the trail of devastation I leave around the chalet at all times. I'm on the Top of the World, looking down on creation..........
Dave
Rainy days may not get me down, but Mondays do. Thank you for another beautiful weekend, lived in the way I know only you really understand. Thank you for your smiles, your nods, your beautiful sparkling eyes even when you look like shit and your contact lenses are still in after far too long; your mushrooms. Thank you for your inability to act like a grown up. Give my regards to Mr. Roy North should you hear from him again. Shame you and t-j didn't perform for us - that would have made me return to the chalet, but if you will drink when you are meant to be rehearsing then I suppose it was obvious that it was never going to happen. Sussi and I kept the prize ourselves. Thank you for your wonderful driving - I had every confidence in you. Thank you for being prepared to save lives with me this year, even though it never actually happened. Thank you for your bladder - which appears worse than mine when exposed (not literally!) to cold weather. I appreciate the gayness of your outfits and am confident that no one else matched you in the raving poofter stakes this weekend. Thanks for having the inability to do anything seriously no matter how inappropriate your stupid behaviour is. Thank you for making me cry with laughter after breakfast on Sunday. Sussi and I nipped round and removed the cctv cameras that we installed in your chalet on Friday morning (that's what the flash was that you said you experienced in the middle of the night). Copies of the tapes will be available on Ebay very shortly. And probably thanks for loads of other things too that I cant remember. I can take all the madness this world has to give .....
T-j
Thank you for being weird. Thank you for looking after Dave. Thank you for your toothbrush!!! And your bananas. Thank you for your dancing - particularly to Jupiter Liar. Thank you for having Pro Plus available at all the appropriate times to prevent me having to fight my way back to the chalet in the crappy weather. Thank you for not having large bars of fruit and nut in your chalet this year to tempt me with (or if you did have them, thank you for keeping them out of sight but what a bastard for not sharing). Thank you for being a gentleman. Love, look at the two of us. Strangers in many ways ......
Dave and T-J
I cant imagine a Brean weekend without you both. Thank you for your company. Why do birds suddenly appear, everytime you are near .......
Viv
Thank you for being over the top in everything you do. Calling Occupants .......
Marc
Thank you. When I was young I'd listen to the radio, waiting for my favourite songs .....
My thanks also go to: Angela and Sue, Helen, Vince, Linda and Andy, Sav and Malc, Lynn and Donna, Richard, Ziggy, Mutley and all the chalet party crowd, Janice, Esther and Sue, and of course our Superstar DJ Neil
And do you know what
I am not doing any awards this year. The awards would simply not be the awards with a S-A-L award for a crap performance award. This is only possible if (a) they are there to win it themselves, or (b) they are there but are so rubbish that they cant even win their own award. So
. No awards. There - another virginity gone.
Its good to touch the Brean Brean grass of home.
TGM
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Well it's nearly THAT time of year again!
They have done it again!!!
All Booked
Eurovision .....
Weeeeeee....
Spank
