Greetings campers, and let me be the very last to wish you a Happy New Year. Let's hope that it's a lot more fun than the crock of poo 2016 turned into.
Looking back to the festive period, after a Christmas Eve of excitement mixed with fear, Santa Claus did eventually come...
...and even Charlotte seemed pleased with what he brought.
Next on the menu was Tiffany the turkey, who seemed a cool chick to begin with. But the temperature soon rose and that was the end of her.
On the upside, she went down well. (Gobble, gobble).
After a couple of days to tidy up, it was off to Northern Ireland's Causeway Coast to begin the build-up to 2017.
Vanessa and I headed off to two top quality gigs on our first three nights. More about those in the coming days.
And then as the sun went down on the shittiest of all shit years, we thought it only appropriate to go out to celebrate its demise.
Charlotte was allowed to stay up on New Year's Eve for the very first time, so decided to make a bit of an effort.
And then as the sun went down on the shittiest of all shit years, we thought it only appropriate to go out to celebrate its demise.
Charlotte was allowed to stay up on New Year's Eve for the very first time, so decided to make a bit of an effort.
Before it was onto the dance floor with her big bro, cousin Katie, Auntie Jacquie and the mother one.
Things got hot about three hours in, so the young 'uns retired to the beer garden for a breath of fresh air mixed with fag smoke.
Whilst some suitably lubricated old men watched on.
And after checking that 2016 was finally as dead as Monty Python's parrot, it was time to head back to Blighty.
I hope you and yours had good times too.
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