This year, largely thanks to yours truly, they chose to holiday a little more close to home. After agonising over the options, it finally came down to taking a caravan on the Isle of Wight or a cottage in Norfolk.

So here we are in East Anglia outside the little cottage that will be home for a week.

The trip up here was a jolly one. I slept in the car, surrounded by stuff (there wasn't a single cubic centimetre of space not taken up with my things), but we took a pit-stop in Essex to see Auntie Kimbers and young Henry. Us boys got on like a house on fire; we broke the ice by discussing the fluke result of the recent Arsenal/Rovers match (6-2) before playing with his toys and chillaxing in front of the TV. M&D and Auntie K just ate cake. I hope to see them again soon and meet Uncle Phil, but it won't be long before all us boys are going to gigs.
AMK
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