I’ll write more about the Eden Project later, but suffice to say that at the heart of it lies a quite wonderful sculpture of a seed, carved in granite.
It made for a great Carravagio-esque backdrop with a wonderful sultry model.
Kate Moss, eat your heart out.
As usual, Tom and I played out the Holiday Golf Competition for the Algarve Cup; as we fondly call it. Tom, who has smugly been proclaiming his superiority to me of late, got his ass well and truly whipped.
Me 3; Tom 1.
He had his ass tanned at The Braids, Whiteleaf near Princes Risburgh and Thurlestone in Devon. He squeaked his modest victory at Whiteleaf in the first match of the series.
I’m glad to say that I do still officially rock.
Hey Greg Norman, don’t think you’ve got a monopoly on kicking the juniors’ asses.
We met this guy on the beach at Weston Super Mare last week.
What a “character”.
He danced for us, because that’s what Dancing Ken does.
One of the highlights of our holiday was a lunchtime stop at Weston Super Mare just South of Bristol where we dropped in en-route to Devon. It’s an absolute microcosm of seaside Britishness as this picture demonstrates.
I’d love to tell you what we christened the place but I’m afraid it might not go down too well in this public forum. You’ll have to ask me personally.
Click on the picture and it’ll take you to my Flickr site with more Weston Super Mare monumentalness. (With the emphasis on ‘mentalness’.)
gibberish 