tintagel and tellings off

i've lost some blogging momentum in the last few weeks, hopefully it will return at some point but until then pictures will have to suffice.

oh, and of course some gems from lucy:

"i blunted it on his bone"

"i'm full of sausage"

ol' thirty bastard - brighton, where else?

and so it was that Herbert turned 30, the first of the gang with a gun in his hand quite literally. fittingly for such an occasion we ‘headed down’ to brighton to celebrate with the monkey magician, and what a weekend it was to be. after the shock of seeing the man himself walking down the road hand in hand with a young lady on arrival, we quickly recovered and found our way to the pub. it turns out that ‘Herbie’, who is the joyous, easy going, happy-go-lucky alter ego of the person we refer to as herb, has found himself a girlfriend, and very nice leanne is too. pretty soon bob and luce arrived and pretty soon the drinks were flowing. benny and kate were on route on the train and dyke and kristy were trying to miss the traffic, yet only succeeding in missing the entire evening, or mine and bobs anyway, as we peaked too early. benny, a late starter, was still available to annoy dyke by making him stay out till 3 when they finally arrived sometime after midnight. waking hours before everyone else, which is the curse of sharing a room with bob, we headed down to the seafront to clear our heads and get a cup of tea, a pleasant stroll cut short by bobs bowells threatening to give way whilst a perilous 10 minutes from a toilet. after making sufficient noise to wake everyone we headed out. the pub was avoided for the best part of an hour by a walk down the pier, where dyke won the dolphin race and was proud and benny had his bluff well and truly called only to worm out of the scariest looking ride in brighton at the last minute. so we retired to the pub for afternoon of drinking, before heading out for tapas, where we ate and drank and herbert milked his birthday. of course, as we mature and become less rock n roll the criteria for the schoolboy error changes, so now the fatal evening killer is eating too much and getting tired. or in bobs case a bad stomach. some hardcore folk continued into the small hours but us soon to be parents were done. sunday came and a very nice afternoon was spent in the pub leisurely drinking ale, playing some jenga and then watching dyke analyse the connect 4 board before some more eating and drinking which is always nice. by this time the rain was coming down and we returned to a half-flooded bedroom, water pouring through the ceiling to such an extent that even herbert was worried. vessels were put in place and the room evacuated. the weather wasn't looking much better after getting up on monday so time to head off, it was good to see 'herbie' in his natural habitat, happy cheeky little chappy that he is, brighton knocks 10 years off him. so that makes him what? 40?