JACK AND GILL IN 2008
COMPOSED BY DAVE HAMBIDGE
PART TEN THEY HOLIDAY IN LINCOLNSHIRE The picture above was pillaged from http://www.turksheadmaltby.co.uk/localinterest.htm which is the website of an interesting Lincolnshire hostelry
Winter's grim weather had been blown away and it was damn nearly the longest day! Some of the regulars at the 2/6* were getting themselves into a right old fix about where to go when they went "up, up and away" on their annual jolly holiday? Of the options Italy, Spain and Corfu were advocated by quite a few. *Remember, British pre-decimal currency, 2 shillings and 6 pennies, half-a crown, the pub? This foot note will be longer than the verse!
Lou and Lil were travelling north up to the land of their spiritual rebirth. Peter and Maggie, who skippered the darts thought Scotland was only for dry old farts. They were off on a P + O cruise to the Med, even calling at Toulouse. Jack had never been further south than Calais, and coming home was rat-arsed all the way.
Gill had once travelled to Bonn, but that had been a long time gone. "So," said Gill, "shall we take a trip? But I don't fancy going on a ship." "Me neither," replied Jack, "bit I'm up for a shack, by the coast, made of pine logs for just you and me. Oh, and the dog!"
Gill surfed the web to seek for a lodge to spend a week with Jack and Splodge. So late in the season the choice was small but prices were already beginning to fall. One of the best, on the Lincolnshire shore, had a hot tub set into the floor. Jack was easily persuaded into going on the promise of doing some fishing!
Jack's casual clothes were old and weary, and, be honest, dreadfully dreary! Gill took the initiative and dragged him screaming around the shops, despite his pleading and dressed Jack up in modern togs. She even made him buy decent clogs albeit with staff discount from her shop. "Enough," cried Jack, "I'm ready to flop!" Not wanting to drive, unless they must on a Saturday in flaming August, Jack and Gill left late on Friday, planning to sleep along the way. Gill's car ran smoothly, and Splodge slept well after a sneaky dose of canine Qwells. They arrived at dawn with a numb bun but were soon awoken by the sun!
Gill and Jack wandered the sand while Splodge stayed close at hand much afraid of the roaring sea into which he tried to pee! After lunch they went to the rental where they all went totally mental! The lodge was smashing and so was the view which they toasted with shampoo. (Champagne? Fizzy dry white wine anyway!)
After unpacking and a quick high-tea, they all went back to splash in the sea. Splodge conquered his jitters and went after the critters who were floating on the brinny. As dusk drew down and the water went shinny they returned to the lodge and all settled down with vino and pizza under the eiderdown.
Sunday dawned bright and blue and Gill and Jack both knew they had to go shopping for victuals. But before they went enjoyed a ritual weekend hot bath and slow shag. Suitably dressed and carrying a bag they rambled down to the local shop with Splodge going at a lop. Inside the village's only chain store Gill and Jack found a smashing double floor of different and unusual goodies supervised by three old good bodies. They were encouraged to sample the wares and were brought a coffee from under the stairs. Splodge stayed outside, hitched to a rail and eventually he started to bark and wail!
As the doggy kept howling and barking a customer came in after parking his electric wheelchair by the door right on the top of Splodge's paw! The hound went balistic, pulled off the lead rushed into the shop where it started to bleed! "Oh," cried the store keeper, "the poor doggy. Run over by Eileen and her bloody buggy!"
Chaos and confusion happily reigned as Splodge and Gill were both restrained! With a soft bandage applied to the mutt Gill was persuaded not to do her nut and seek recompense from Eileen who actually looked quite like the Queen. Jack settled their bill and bagged up the haul whilst Gill drank a whisky and came off the boil. The visitors were driven back to the lodge with a free box of treats for Splodge. Gill and Jack reclined in the tub reading the papers and eating some grub. As the afternoon mellowed into the dusk Splodge hopped around chewing a rusk. Supper was a most leisurely affair, consumed whilst lounging in their underwear.
On Monday morning the sea was missing behind a storm that had wind and rain hissing horizontally across the shore and crashing into the lodge door. Our heroes pumped up the fire and agreed that it was quite too dire to venture forth so settled for repeated intercourse.
On Tuesday the scenery looked blasted clean so Gill and Jack decided to walk and glean wild flowers from the fields and hedges. They picnicked on ham and cheese wedges washed down with bottles of Batemans best. As the sun dipped away to the west our lovers skinny dipped in the surf then dinned on barbecued boeuf. (Batemans brewery in Wainfleet Lincolnshire http://www.bateman.co.uk/HomeF.htm has some lovely beers.)
Wednesday to Friday sped right past a blur of relaxing that went so fast that Gill and Jack lost all track of the days until they sadly came to the end of their stay. Driving back home they both agreed that the break had met all their needs. There and then they promised each other that next year they would do another.