For those snowflakes, wokes and libtards who may not be able to cope with some of my Rants etc., then select here:

Off early to catch the ferry from Southampton to the Isle of Wight. Given the state of our roads you have to allow a big margin for traffic jams. As it happens no major holdups, just a smattering of annoying chaos.

Arrive early so do our shop in Southampton. It would have been at snobby Waitrose, running with the big dogs, but as they can’t be bothered to provide customer toilets we head to Sainsbury’s. Now watch Waitrose’s share price plummet, serves them right.

Get to the ferry early and catch the earlier one. Wow, good customer service. It’s only an hour but sat inside with hardly a mask in sight – these selfish egits don’t have enough sense to spit downwind. Is the IoW going to be full of scrots then?

Our VRBO’s is ready and waiting for us.

Quiet night in, not even a drop of alcohol passes my lips.

 

 

 

Up and out for a tour of the South of the Island.

Start off at Shanklin. Seems a pleasant resort ideal for kids. Then onto Ventnor. Not really much there so we don’t bother stopping. Lunch sat overlooking the white cliffs of the Needles. Then it’s onto the Needles. Can’t believe Wendy’s never heard of them. £6 to park – scandolus. All there is there is a fun park village, complete with a single chairlift down to the beach. There’s an unbelievable queue to ride on a decrepit, slow lift.

We set off for a walk to see the Needles, leaving the majority in fun park hell. It’s a pleasant 1 mile walk but when you get to the end of the peninsula it’s £5 each to get into the Old Battery and see the Needles. More daylight robbery, this time from the National Trust. So it would be £16 to get a glimpse of the Needles. Give it a miss and walk back. Would have been nice if the NT had bothered to put a decent sign up warning you of the impending rip off at the end of the walk.

Joy, it’s started to rain. All part of the great British summer staycation – then people wonder why I want to escape.

Drive onto Yarmouth after calling in at some abandoned fort for a coffee. Would have been afternoon tea but having to ladle the scum off the top of your tea makes you want to shout for Huewee and Ruth. Nothing much at Yarmouth so drive onto the White Mouse, recommended to us. It’s heaving, but they have a table and a good menu – ribs. Have to queue at the bar for 10 minutes to order food and drinks. Finally get to the bar, order my drinks, no Sunday roast left they’ve run out and then told you need to join that 15 minute queue over the there to order food. And where you I ask are the signs telling you that there are two separate queues? Tell them to stuff it and leave. Just typical example of shoddy customer service and the mediocrity rampant in the UK.

After driving round to try a few other places, all fully booked up and busting at the seams, we end up at The Star in our village. It’s an American bar. Suits me although Wendy is not so chuffed. The ribs, red onion slaw, corn on the cob and fried gherkins are great. Good beer a a large selection of Jack Daniels, not really my tipple, but do get to try an american Eagle – not one I’ll be dashing out to buy a bottle of.

Back home for some wine and TV.

 

 

 

Well it’s a typical British summer holiday day, rainining cats and dogs, just stepped on a Poodle. Never mind lazy start then off to Cowes.

At least the downpour had stopped by the time we’d got to Cowes. After the usual faf trying to park we have a shuffle around Cowes and the Cowes week (sailing) market. It’s a very pleasant little town mainly due to the lack of traffic on the the main street and lots of independent shops rather than the usual homogenous glut of chain stores. And the highlight of the day for Wendy is an M & S Food store.

Drive down to Newport and am condemmed to a shop at Morrisons – as exciting as a mashed-potato sandwich. In view of the dismal performance of the restaurants we’ve decided to eat in. Never mind at least I can get topped up with their awesome, cheap ginger beer.

Have a drive through Ryde on our way to visit Anne and Geoff (A & G) in Sandown. Ryde looks interesting and may be woth a visit tomorrow.

Call in on A & G. Old archery buddies from Belthorn. Have a pleasant afternoon tea with them and catch up. They have a gorgous Tibetain Terrier dog. Never seen one before. They’ve given up archery and wanted to pass on their bows (a recurve, a compound, arrows, cases, belt and quiver) to someone who still did it. The recurve will be great as It means I can pack it in my suitcase to America – if they ever let us back in.

Back home for a delicious crab sandwich and some not so delicious Pinot Noir. And yes some more Netflix.

 

 

 

Lazy start to the day as it’s raining for a change.

Drive to Sandown. Get the chairs out and Wendy has dinner on the beach. Sitting on the beach is a rare event for us. Thirty minutes on a beach and my threshold of tolerance expires – about as much fun as going to the dentist. This is certainly not the South of France, sadly no topless, not even any eye candy. Instead a surfeit of Brownie Gobblers, waddling around, with the excess of adipose tissue. Enough to put you off sex for life. So many of them with young fat kids in the family blobby.

But entertainment was provided as a rat arsed geezer with his foot in a carrier bag gave everyone a demo on how not to kayak. Pissed as a newt, can hardly stand upright. Plastic bag on foot, probably to aid buoyancy, must have fell off 10 times in 10 minutes. Free entertainment.

Wow, stopped for a coffee at a cafe and all the staff, young girls mainly, were so pleasant and great service. Such a change these days. Even took the trouble to speak to the manager and complimented him on his recruitment and training practices.

Drove up to Ryde, hardly mentioned in the marketing blurb for the IoW but has free parking, an interesting pier and a diverse range of individual shops.

Back home for a disgusting ready meal, chicken Burrito that has a never seen the inside of a chicken. Must have been Chinese, just rice.

 

 

 

Up and off before 10:00. These days even Wendy’s up and ready on time. It’s only 20 minutes to the ferry and Red Funnel very obligingly let us catch the 10:30 rather than having to wait until 12:30.

So what is the IoW famous for? Some may say The Needles. Some may say Osbourne House. I will say a glut of Skoda and Suzukis cars. Do they give them away free to all islanders or are they special offer on cripple mobiles.I know not politically correct, but we are starting to run out of words as the Snowflakes keep ostracising words. words now cast into political incorrect hell such as lame, disabled, handicapped, wheelchair-bound, spastic and victim, all cast into do goober oblivion.

One of the worst aspects of the island is the scummy tap water. You have to scrape the scum off the top and sides of a cup of tea before drinking.

It’s a lovely little island, little being the operative word. Everything’s so close togetether, maximum of 30 minutes drive in any direction. No major highways as you end up driving through housing estates with their temporary convoluted community chicanes created by cars parked down the side of a major route.

We’ve really enjoyed it despite the mixed weather.

As for our VRBO what can we say:

Modern, light, breezy, well equipped and quality fitings. Just right for two people. Let down by some minor irritations. Needed a four wheel drive to get down the pot holed track; a shower as slippery as an ice ring; oven with no marking on the knobs, so anyones guess what we’ll get. Water and electricity worked perfectly, but as usual wifi was more flaky than a French croissant. I did complain about it but despite promises of a new repeater nothing turned up. I managed to improve Mbps but still flaky. So 3 minors and 2 majors gets them a 3 star review.

 

 

Lazy start to the day as it’s rainin’ like a cow pissin’ on a flat rock.

Up to the local fishmongers for tonights tea – Haddock, Mondkfish tails and Scallops.

We have a drive down to Chichester Marina. No chance of a coffee as the restaurant has a queue longer than muslims trying to get to the Kaba.

Drive into Chichester for a shuffle around and get the joys of M&S Food Hall – I’d rather eat my own earwax. Quite a pleasant little traffic free town though.

Drive into Bognor Regis to see what it’s like. Get out to have a sandwich on the beach but as soon as we pearch ourselves it starts to passist it down again. Bognor’s claim to fame is a Butlins holiday camp and it hold the record for the most sunshine days on England. As for the rest it’s more depressing than the Kyber pass in Blackburn.

Back for afternoon tea and sat counting raindrops.

Fish for tea washed down by a rather pleasant American Zinfindel.

 

 

 

Brett wanted me to join him for a Turkish shave, haircut and massage. Pass, rather lick piss off a nettle than have some hairy arsed Turkish imposter stroke me arms and kneck. One wrong word and I could have me throat slit.

Day out with Brett. Drove up to Goodwood airedrome. Lovely Spitfire there – see photos. Nothing against the Germans – don’t mention the war – but somewhat ironic that the winner of the Battle of Britain and an icon of us winning WWII should have a German name on it – IWC Schaffhausen. You can have a 30 minute flight in a real Sptfire, only £2,750, but what an experience that would be. Coffee watching the planes take off.

Then drove into the South Downs National Park and up to the Kingsbrook Vineyard for lunch. Even though it was white – sadly all their wines were white or one Rose – I had a very pleasant Pinot Grigo they had produced. Would have splashed out on a bottle but £19 a bottle is £9 over my limit.

Then back home for afternoon tea. A very pleasant day out.

For dinner (I’m down South so can’t call it tea) we go round to the Elmer pub. Their claim to fame is they do a Sussex Smokie, specially put on the menu for yours truly, sadly it’s only a starter. Enjoyed the food but beer leaves a lot to be desired and having maskless staff hover over you is a tad off-putting in these covid times.

 

 

Just love this living out of a suitcase. Because Wendy constantly moans about me ransacking the suitcase to find my clothes and allegedly creasing all the clothes, she gets my clothes out for me each day. It’s like having a butler, not only are my clothes neatly laid out for me, but I don’t even have to bother choosing what to wear.

Set off home after a great few days with Karine and Brett.

It’s a journey from hell. Six hours with the satnav overheating as it has to constantly re-route to avoid major delays.

Oh well a good week. Now we have to gird our loins ready for the onslaught tomorrow as we look after the rug rats for three days and two night while Kurt and Fiona have a few days away. We must be masochists or mad.