What a long day so far, starting with the dreaded cat farce, he not only despises his carry box, he projectile urinates over 60ft, fully directional when stressed, I only wish super soaker was this accurate and deadly! But surprisingly this morning Mr Spike went quietly and we were able remove our protective clothing intact (picture two grown adults in Hazmat suits and that is close to the vision that is putting spike into his box).

Mrs Fogg went off to work for a jolly, leaving me to sort everything else as usual (anyone got a violin?).

The trip down was long and uneventful (sorry Bartys we weren’t able to stop off, but we will drop Aitch’s Gameboy in on the way back).

No Garmin Satnav this time, instead using the ultracool Navigon on my oh so cool ifone (or if you are from Newcastle Why ifone, sorry), straight to the front door of the hotel, perfick.

Booking in, now not that we are awkward customers (but we are), leaving the car parked at the hotel requires you to write all your details on a sheet of paper plonked on the front desk for anyone to view (car reg, room number, name, address and how long you are leaving it there), I don’t think so, poor girl went white when Mrs Fogg started on her about security implications.

On then to our room, right at the other end of the hotel and up 2 floors (that’ll teach us to argue), door duly opened, room fully occupied, starkers bloke in the bog, nice! Off we trundle to reception. Is everything ok sir, err no there is someone in that room, oh well there shouldn’t be, are you sure, err yup, well it should be empty, well it ain’t, but it should, well it ain’t, are you sure it is occupied, yup, but it should be empty! Well it AIN’T. I would like another room please, without occupant, empty, not full, no-one in it, FREE of a person or persons.

So here we are in an empty room, let’s see who comes knocking on the door when they give out our room key.

Tomorrow, the joy of airports and the silly plastic bags, removing every item of clothing and cavity searches and that is just to get into McDonalds!

So little Mrs Foggy had a fantastic evening with the Caddies to see Elvis in Dewsbury. Highlight of the evening was Mrs Foggy and Mrs Caddy racing up to the dancefloor to boogie on down, just as Elvis stopped singing, then trying to get one of Elvis’ scarves.

Best of all was Mrs Fogg sat with the Caddies camera, with full zoom focused on Elvis impersonators crotch. She actually flattened the battery, Elvis has a new stalker.

The end to the evening saw us all with a bottle of Bolly to celebrate Mrs Caddies B’day and Mrs Fogg telling anyone who would listen that she was tired, very tired, very very tired. This morning she has no idea how she got to bed, good advert for falling down water.

In celebration of our trip to see the Elvis World Championships in Bridlington (of all places) last year, The Caddies and the Foggies went to the happening hip town of errr Dewsbury to see an Elvis personator in concert, oh boy.

Will it be any good, who knows, but we is all tiddly so who cares.

Hippo Bathday to Jenny, next year Elvis in Graceland

Just to prove how cold it was at Scarborough yesterday, here’s Mr Barty with just some of his winter wear on and he was still cold.

Goes to show what these southern sorties are like doesn’t it, since there were typical northern ard men in shorts and t-shirts.

Ah the joy of winter

This was the cheery greeting to all passengers who got on the park and ride in York.

Pity the poor people who all skirted past Bel and all sat miles away at the backlog the bus.