Back From a Beautiful-ish Place Out in the Country

C'est belle, non? An Artwork called A Grobie Wrapped in Tape No.3, also known as The Trapped, Squirming Boglin which has nowt to do with the weekend. I just thought I'd put it up somewhere

Yep.

Back from Boreatton Park. It took me six hours. Bloody bloody sundays. Buses and everything.

There are many fields in Shropshire, as well as narrow lanes. There are many children being marched, possibly right now, being led by some spikey haired git round the PGL centre chanting things like "We are the best at football" and "We come from Barnstaple", eh?

Well, I did go in the end. Even if I did feel part of my brain was missing and I was working at about 80 per cent. So many names I knew but which could not be recalled! I saw their faces in my mind. Everything else was like a blank carpet of snow.

On reflection I am really quizzed out now. I even got to the point where I considered jacking in quizzing for a few months to pursue other, er, pursuits. But no. How could I? How silly.

Man, this is really disjointed. I'd better give up and sleep one off. Sleep deprivation being a pertinent factor over the last few days. I thought I had left children's bunk beds behind.

Personal results to follow with the diary parts 1 and 2. Are you excited? I know I am not. I have to write the thing.