We just got back from a few days on the Isle of Wight, or the Isle of Wet as we've nick-named it - somewhat unfairly probably.
It would/could have been a brilliant holiday if the sun had shone a bit more... We stayed in a hotel that was like a cross between The Shining, the hotel in Dirty Dancing with a bit of Fawlty Towers thrown in for good measure. That would probably be enough to put most people off, but, I could see us going back there. It was brilliant for kids, and when they are happy... we're happy...
So faced with wet weather we did what any self respecting Brit would do... we went to the beach in the drizzle, ate fish and chips on the seafront and ice cream in the car.
We sampled some bizarre indoor activities, Butterfly world (quite sweet and not really that strange) and 'Small world' which was a room of slightly weird moving mini pirates (creepy, very bizarre and Coco loved it) and had a couple of over-indulgent long lunches, The Pond Cafe if you anywhere near Ventnor is de-li-cious.
Then Hugh and I went our separate ways (temporarily) I stayed on the Isle and went to my friend Nicole's hen do (without the camera I'm sorry to say) and Hugh went off with the kids to our friend Charlie's slightly shot-gun wedding. I think I got the better deal as he had a two hour delay on the ferry home due to the weather while I was safe enjoying a glass or two of vino and catching up with old friends from school.
Why is it that when you get home from a holiday you really feel like you need a holiday?
(As the Isle of Wight really does have a time-warp feel I've been
seriously abusing the vintage photoshop action by fallout75 - you can download it free here.)