It is now Tuesday and if Gill was on the ball, she would have asked me about ten times a day why I've not blogged the weekend. The answer would be I don't know how to and I'm not entirely sure blogging a lot of pictures would do but I have writer's block and I don't know what to write. For the second weekend running I found myself on a bus replacement service, iPod firmly plugged in to attempt to forget I get travel sick on bus replacement services. Three hours later we arrived in Wellingborough, not before discussing the merits of commandeering various farm animals in fields. We all got ready in the whole 'Tim Burton theme' thing and then got dropped at the hall where we then decided it would be funny to wander down to Morissons in our costumes. We went back to the hall. I took lots of stupid pictures and realised that overall I had eighty two photos.





What's that coming over the hill? Is it a monster?



Then we all refused to be separated so the six of us piled into the guestroom comprising of two single beds and limited floor space. Ali's Mike fell out the bed. Gilly's Mike pulled the duvet Gilly was holding so she whacked herself in the lip. Lucy kept grabbing my toe when she was awake and Ali's Mike hit me on the shoulder in his sleep. It was all rather amusing. Of course then I made the mistake of actually getting up and starting the day and then discovered that whilst I may be packed and ready for the train I wasn't going anywhere without my ticket and railpass, which had disappeared. Then everyone went and Kirst drove me to Northampton where bizarrely an hour later in Nuneaton I managed to find myself on the exact same train as everyone else who'd left an hour before me.