Fun Times in Kent

As my laptop was returned to me today (never actually broken, long story that is not the point of this entry), I find some time this evening to add a promised entry: Deal, Kent. OK, I have been forced to do it as Dave insists on watching 'THe History of the Ryder Cup' and I need to do something to block it out.

Deal, Kent... what can I say. More pharmacies per square foot than any other town I have been to. More nana scooters cruising the roads than cars. Home of the most beautiful golf course in the UK. It's obvious which of these attributes may have contributed to 'us' choosing this place as our holiday destination.

When Dave initially suggested we go there, I turned him down, for I had planned a weekend of ironing the tablecloths and didn't particularly relish the thought of spending hours wwaiting for him to finish golf. Dave heaped on the guilt adn suggested that it would be a lovely way to have a weekend to ourselves. So with the images of impending parenthood in my mind, I relented on the proviso that the holiday was about us, and not golf.

Fool.

Lovely little town. Perfect weather. Great company. When I had some, that is.

After polishing off the towns shops half-way through the proposed sole golfing session on Saturday, I explored the beach and headed back to our cute little B&B to wait for Dave. Lovely. However - it would be the first of many hours spent twiddling my thumbs, as he proceeded to fit in almost a full day of golf on the Sunday Thankfully I had my laptop with me and found some sort of amusement in that... buuntil the battery ran out and I found myself alone in the staid clubhouse rooms, scared to death of the grumpy, tea-slurping, formally-jacketed old golfers. I have not been so scared in a long time. Needless to say after 4 hours, I was not a happy bunny when Dave returned and spent a good part of the trip home mocking the wonderful 'us' time.

BUT all this being said and done, it was lovely to get away, it was nice to spend time with Dave when he was around. And seeing as he paid for it all, I shouldn't really complain. It's not often that I get out of SE1 (our postcode) let alone London.

Below are some photographs of the trip. THe beaches (quite painful under my tremendous weight) were not of the sandy ilk, and Dave had trouble building hte castle that he promised me.