Back from a week’s UK-trotting

Hello hello!

Phew-ee, finally back at home after what feels like quite a long 7 days, most of it in a good way.

We had 5 nights away on the boat which:

– was lovely, as we were in Fowey down in Cornwall, so a nice change from the Solent-once-more-with-feeling usual routine

– and had The Girls on board, to counterbalance H's previous 4 nights with The Boys (plus apparently, two random blonde bimbos – Bryony & Kat – who got voted out of The Bachelor on TV in the first round, they were that vacuous, but that's a whole other story…)

– was very entertaining, seeing how the townsfolk ran their carnival week – the roads are so narrow that instead of massive floats on lorries they dress up kids buggies and wheelbarrows and parade with pride on a smaller scale

– made me laugh, as we watched the endless rounds of 'Eat the Cornish Pasty in the Fastest Time' – cheap ents, but highly amusing (winning time one minute 9 seconds, god knows how you get the massive dry crust down in that time)

– was too long for H as 11 nights in the captain's cabin has put his back out again (he is SO broken, I need a new model)

– was cool, as we watched the fantastic Red Arrows display right over the boat in the estuary, amazing to see, fantastic plumes of smoke all over the valley

– and then sad as Red Four crashed his plane just two days later, an even bigger shame for Soph who was with us (and is in the RAF)

– and the week was clearly a calorie disaster – how the west country doesn't tip the rest of England to the left I don't know, given the endless supply of fatboy pasties, ice cream, cornish scones & tea, fish & chips and deep fried seafood… oh yes, and the crisps, how can I forget the endless crisps…. and the disappointing discovery that Cornwall is the Land That Houmous Forgot.

– not forgetting the excellent apple mojitos from Sam's Bar – 'another 6 please, barman', being the call of the night

– which did lead to my infamous charming line when a small child sat on my chair as I was at the bar getting the next round in… I went back and towered over him and paralysed him with my mojito fumes, saying 'Don't even think about it small fry' and man, did he move fast…..

– Plus of course the usual sailing, fishing, pottering off to nearby little towns to put a pound in the shower for 5 mins of luxury hot water, and buy yet more food for the boat.

– And all made even funnier by this being Sarah Kelleher's inaugural boat trip, whereby she took every opportunity to swim (and spin in circles, weirdly, must be a Paddy thing) in the very, very cold sea. In which we joined her even more very, very, very briefly – with the words 'fuck, fuck, fuck' echoing across the wave tops as legs froze and you wondered if it was indeed posible to get round the dinghy and back to the boat ladder before hypothermia set in (all the while Sarah still twirling merrily in the icy waves – that Irish blood is deffo made of sterner stuff than ours.)

And from there, off via 4 counties to Dorset for the AV Directors Annual 3 days of Awayness. Which went well. And I am so tired today that I can't even be arsed to write about it. Except to say that I found the following things out: Smug people who run the morning after the night before are annoying. Kate Jones the new Brand Dir shouts if she has too much meat. Martine sends midnight emails begging to remove the huge spider on her pillow. Nic Bulois still believes his ugly orange (now described as 'Morph coloured') camper van is going to be a good investment, despite having to buy a new engine for it within the first week. Tisha the new HR Director thinks Bart is a slut. Davina is still afraid of cows in a field. And speed dating can actually be good, contrary to practically every experience I ever had of it in the real world. 

But right now, thank god for Waitrose sushi & edamame beans. Today's lunch and not a dead pig in sight. (Except me if I fall asleep at my desk as I really think I now might…)

Sx