Written – da dar da dar da dada, dar dar dar dar dar, it’s been 3 long years do you still love me
Holidays in Britain have never been so popular. Well, not since the days when, “Tie Your Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree” was a number one smash hit, people used to get paid in things called shillings and indoor toilets were a thing of legend. Just think now, where would you be without your beday?
My Dad loves to tell me stories of when he was just a boy and the family would go up to Clacton in the caravan for the week with a stick of rock, a few marbles and he was well away. “Those were the days,” he used to say, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.” And sure enough they don’t.
So with the fact that I have never been on holiday in the Great British Isles before, and the fact that I have just got a new car and wanted to give her a run out, I decided that it was about time I tried. The next question was where to go?
Yes, Me and Gladys finally parted company last week. I’m sure she has gone to a good home. We were getting on really well until one day, whilst out driving, I saw her – the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I mean I must admit, I don’t normally pay for it, but this one was different. She had a beautiful rear bumper and a spoiler to match; a lovely big set on her with looks to die for and she sounded great too and I don’t even speak German. I knew I just had to have her. So that was it, Bye bye Gladys, Hello Bettie.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, where to go on my first British holiday? Well, I didn’t fancy Clacton, you don’t see many Porsches towing a caravan and you know what I think of Blackpool. And I hear Tony Orlando is still number one in Margate so that was off the list too. So there was only one option left…the Democratic Republic of Cornwall.
So with that, the next morning, I packed my Speedos and a ham and mustard sandwich and I was off. Plodding along down the motorway, sticking exactly to the speed limit, on all those long straight open roads,
Bettie loved it, it was a real bonding experience between the two of us, she is anhalf thirsty though, I think I might need to take on a bigger paper round; to keep her going, “she drinks like a fish”.
Anyway, after a long 7 hour drive, we arrived in St Ives, at this point, it was quite a nice day, I had the top down and was off to explore. driving along, these tight little streets, with half of Cornwall all deciding to all walk in the road, just to make the roads just that little bit more difficult to get round.
It’s a different way of life down there, I’ll tell you, they don’t like us English much, they even have there very own flag and some pixie language too. It’s a bit like Welsh but different, and they all worship this sea god, something Stein, he’s called, I didn’t quite catch the last bit, my attention was diverted, to this little (fat) girl walking along with her friends by the side of my car, shouting to her friends, that “ My Daddy has the Carrera and that the Boxster is a ladies car”, yeah and is your daddy fat too; but didn’t get a chance to get that out before this reversing lorry nearly took my front wing off. So with that I decided to cut my losses and get the hell out of there and off to the hotel, to bed down for the night.
Now of course, this is me were talking about, so nothing was really planned out, but on the 52nd attempt, I finally did find a hotel that wasn’t completely booked out, well that’s at least what they were telling me, but maybe they could tell I was English.
Up with the cock the next morning, bright and early, off to explore. Now, I couldn’t decide where to go, so whilst at breakfast this morning, there I was with my map, with my sat Nav, and a glass of lemonade, looking through all those little flyers they always have, you know the ones in that rack, with things on them like, ‘Ted’s Jumbo Circus – In Town Now” and “Come see the great Cornish Treasure of Cornish Pie Making”, and the captivating ‘Cornwall is great: Come see the Lands End Experience’.
With that I was sold, I mean, how could that make you want to do anything else, so the coordinates were set, and it was full steam ahead, well I say that, but I got stuck behind a bloody tractor rally, so it took bloody ages, finding myself poodaling along behind, but Bettie was keeping my sprits high, we were both singing along, ‘I’m coming home, I’ve done my time, Now I’ve got to know what is and isn’t; mine, If you received my letter, telling you I’d soon be free, then you’ll know just what to do, if you still want me. If you still want me. Whoaaaaa”.
Stop that right now. Anyway, eventually we arrived at ‘The Lands End Experience’ with its great big neon sign and just at that second, the heavens opened. Of course they did, did you expect anything else?!! So I queued up at the toll both and bought my £3 entrance to park, my brand new shiny, gleaming, pretty black car in this muddle field with some dodgy Australian guy, half stoned off his face, parking all the cars up, so close to each other that you had to wait for everyone else to leave around you before you could get you car out again.
So I parked up, and it was chucking it down at this point, absolute tipping it down, but I had come all this way, so I had to go through with it, so I’ve found this old plastic bag to cover my hair, and made a run for up, up this muddle hill past this little shack, which was the visitors centre, to the edge of the cliff face.
I had finally arrived. I’d travelled 400 miles to the edge of the Earth, crossed borders, travelled past ancient dewed rocks, past oceans, and angry Cornish people, to be at this very spot. Risking the lives of myself and other road users along the way.
I tried to take it all it, but I really couldn’t, I was fucking soaking wet, there was fuck all to see, and I drew the line, when this big fat American women, physically bumped me out of the way, so she could take a picture of a soggy signpost saying America, 3000 miles this way.
I mean there really wasn’t nothing there, It looked the same as it would looking out to sea at Clacton, I mean, I don’t know what I was really expecting, the ‘Lands End Experience’, just all sounded so groundbreaking and momentous, too good not to go, in hindsight, maybe Ted’s jumbo circus was the way to go. But we all learn by our mistakes. The only experience I got was, I went their £3 pounds richer, and they were all sold out of pasties.
As I squelched back down the hill to Bettie in the muddy field, and trundled on back to London, hungry and sneezing away, muttering to myself, under my breathe, “ I’ll give her fu£$Kng girls car”.
Looks like it’s back to Alicante again next year for me. At least everybody there IS English.
check out more of alan on his travels at – www.alantravels.tumblr.com