And here we have the folks and Mrs Fogg ready for another alco beverage at the edge of the Arc de DooDah.

After a stroll along the Champs de thingy and nice grub at the Hippo restaurant we stopped for a wee tipple with Mr Yul Brinner lookilikee (according to Mrs Fogg), who brought out the cheque for 2 coffees and two beers, €26.40, my god! Better than that as Mrs Fogg handed over €30 he adds “Not encluding serveece charge” and promptly walked off with the cash. Being good little Brits we waited for our change which wasn’t gonna materialise, so i walked in and told him to bring out our change at which point he begrudgingly came back to the table and emptied his pockets of all his shrapnel, then stood looking in dismay as Mrs Fogg scooped it up into her purse. That’ll teach Yul to mess with us!

Today sees the Foggies taking TurfMan and TurfGal (aka the Folks) to that there Paris for the weekend.

God I hate France

Not Jumping Frog and baa lamb stroking

Yup our froggy population is increasing, although if he sits in the middle of the road like this for long it’ll be a “I toad ya so”.

And then we went of sheep petting at midnight in the garden of good and evil.

Now we is getting ready for the cartoon character themed meteor BBQ in August.

Ever had the feeling you are all on your own? Had a bath but still no-one comes near?

Try a Holiday Inn at Coventry where you are the only guests and therefore the only people in the restaurant. Oh well individual service it is then.

Crazy Golf, once the preserve of saddos like me who can’t play golf for toffee, blighted by Health and Safety rubbish.

Yes you see correct, the crazy windmill moving at 0.0001mph now needs to have a safety barrier erected to protect us from our own stupidity. Believe me if you walked into this and got hurt you deserve a wet kipper in the face!

Surprisingly empty on the road, well we did set off at 6.30am. And here is the world’s coldest Mrs Fogg in Whitby a mere 12090 miles from New Zealand where we were just last year.

Now time for lunch and a steady pootle back home.

Bright and bleary eyed in a designer outfit (some nobody called “save the queen” for the top and “Betty Barkley” for the jeans, looks hot tho) all set for an early coastal trek to do some serious hobbling.

Well I did promise to take Mrs Hulkfoot to the coast for early morning Fush n Chups.

Ah the Hot Tub weekend was brilliant, fun, chatting, walking (only a small distance for Mrs Hulk Foot), hot tub, falling down water and surf n turf.

Oh and we met tree beard whilst out walking.

Superb

And here is Birthday Club Foot enjoying her evening Hot Tub. Apparently she hasn’t felt the needs to shower or bathe since this arrived!

Sorry Caddies the scum line ain’t mine.