Following the ten day rollercoaster of court-then-Whitby-then-
eddie777's-operation, I was hoping for the chance to catch up with useful things like sleep over the weekend. Needless to say, that was wishful thinking. Saturday's trip to Scarborough didn't go entirely according to plan. I walked in on a bit of a psychodrama chez WWINOLJ, and waking up (or
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What's far worse than being stuck in urban hell is being stuck in Straw Dogs country with a bunch of alcoholic inbreds. Anywhere to the South or West of Bristol might as well be nuked now.
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Three words. Weston. Super. Mare.
Not super at all.
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I tend to prefer Yorkshire, because (at least when I lived there) it was very easy to get on a bus from the crappy bits and in very little time be wandering about some lovely moors (you have to like moors to think that's a good thing, but I do. so there)
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