Alte Opel

Tallulah is going to be in Alte Opel (Old Opel) magazine, possibly even featuring on the cover. What a great opportunity to extend the hands of friendship between our two nations and plan to take the old girls there sometime. Old girls? Tallulah is one, and you know who the other is.

Stolleried

Cheeky Chappie Andy Stollery has pledged the grand sum of £250 to the Wivenhoe Royal British Legion if only I would include him in my book Muddy Water what I'm currently writing on board my Boat For My Potplants. I'm already up to Chapter 12 and Hollywood will soon be knocking on my canopy to buy the film rights.

That's very generous of you Andy, but I'm afraid I just could not think of a plot line where you might comfortably fit in.

I was scratching my head (in thought, not the flees) and then he sent me a clue, as per the term STOLLERIED, found in the Urban Dictionary. Honest Guv, it really is there.

That's given me plenty to work on, so now the Legion's dosh is safely in the bag.

Stolleried

A most charming and generous chap frequents The Station Pub in Wivenhoe.  
His favourite pursuit on a Sunday, early evening, is to stroll into the bar and buy the entire pub (especially if it's full of females) Zambuccas.  
The clientele embraces this largesse with abandon:  Zambuccas downed in one, pronto. Often unsuspecting tourists are informed that it is said gent's "birthday" in order to facilitate their willlingness to hurl themselves like Lemmings into their forthcoming total inebriation.  
As soon as the first round is consumed, said gent buys another round and the clientele chuck the next one down their necks.  This continues for several hours until the entire pub is in utter carnage.  
At which point said gent (also known as The Zambucca Fairy) chuckles to himself, says "goodnight turnips" and leaves.  
If you are ever in The Station on a Sunday and you manage to make it home without an ambulance, you haven't been properly "Stolleried".
(stollery: noun) (to stollery: verb) (stolleried: past tense)

Regatta Day in Wivenhoe

The best ever regatta day

Several people may be nursing their hangovers this morning following what must have been one of the best regattas in the history of regattas.

The sun shone, the wind blew, the band played and Punch punched Judy.

And we were privileged to have been invited to not one but two of the coolest parties, the first being in the afternoon at Denise and Graham's with the best view of the proceedings, and the second being in the evening at Sally and Graham's with the best music performed by Simon.

Mark's caravan

Canoe-man Jon and my fellow Haggis Committee member Snod The Sailor

Me in between my two favourite ladies (exccept for 'Erindoors, of course)

Punch and Judy packed away for another year

Great view of the proceedings from Party Number One

Great music from Simon at Party Number Two

In between the parties the drinks flowed on the Boat For My Potplants, and just about everywhere else for that matter.

Then this morning, whilst taking down the boat bunting, old chum Mark came past and invited me to become his first ever tea guest on his new caravan that he's been building. There's never any shortage of things to get up to around here. Like for instance next January's Burns Night, for which I have a vague recollection of forming The Haggis Committee yesterday with Snod the Sailor.