Spent the Bank Holiday in Cambridge. Tantrum Boy, A.K.A him indoors decided he needed to get out of London (so soon? the future looks bright then) and see some 'real' history. Not being bad but if the streets of London do not offer you enough History, you're sort of a bit FCUKed either that or you are the kind of person who's caught the fabric of life on the door handle and ripped the fantasy - reality continuum.
Anyhoo, off we chugged on a train for 50 minutes and were in our hotel room within an hour and a half not having even broken a sweat - now that's the kind of journey I'm talking ABOOOOT. If only sunny European destinations were as easily attained.
The hotel looked like it had been decorated by an elderly woman with the start of dementia. There were toilet roll covers made to look like a milk maiden's hat in the loo; So much so the nipper decided that was exactly what they should be used for and promptly stuck one on her head. Need I say more? The bar was exactly like the set of an early Carry On film and I dare say the barman remembers when these films were on new release at the cinemas. Still, the website for the place is outstanding... in it's ability to mislead.
One thing it didn't lie about was it's proximity to the colleges. We were 5 minutes on foot from Kings, Trinity and St. John's (the title of this blog was heard belted out by a punter on the River Cam) all of which we viewed like a schoolboy does a copy of Playboy...from all angles. We saw them from the main square; we also saw them from a punt. This word alone caused a gigglefest for the Canuck as did Trumpington Street for me. Childish, yes. And?
We did find out some fascinating nuggets of history as to the bridges, the colleges and the whole foppish British Class System. Sausage Boy loved it - I could tell because his eyes were open.
Then of course it was off to the pub for breakfast, lunch and dinner because of course British people always and only eat in these places before retiring to the drawing room with cigar, brandy and a plate of almonds.
I have to admit I love the ceremony of the place, actually I could say that about the whole of the UK and I challenge you to find a place that holds such fascination among the droves and droves of international visitors, I mean even down to the doillies in the hotel. I asked the silver-backed gorilla as he lurched one leg at a time into his never out of arm's reach jim jams what he'd made of it all. He replied: Pompous. And flicked on the Snooker World Championship.
Good job then that we were only an hour and a half from home and a bag of Doritos chips because anything else is utterly wasted on him.
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