The campsite itself was very busy (for some reason it was full of people all claiming to hail from Lowestoft), and would have been alot nicer were it not for the proximity of the main road from Bury St. Edmunds to Lowestoft. Who knew there were *that* many motorbikes and lorries on the road at 2am on a Saturday morning? It was however very pretty (our tent was about 20 yards from a gorgeous bit of the river), and we did have live entertainment in the form of a small group of 6 rather morose 'friends' (3 couples), who I suspect went to University together, and spent the entire weekend wondering why the hell they kept in touch. We watched them eat their burnt sausages in silence, and took bets on who would manage to smile next. Their petulant looks in our direction, whilst stroking their carefully coiffured 'bed head' hairdo's were all the more delicious, as we were safe in the knowledge that Iona would be waking them at 'God Awful O'clock' in the morning, as for some reason she prefers her drinks to be served slightly chilled at 5am when under canvas. To add to the entertainment, we had the 'Queen Camper' come to greet us on the hour, and take Iona for cuddles in her caravan with her pit bull dog :/ It's great that kids do not judge, but I do wish that Iona wouldn't constantly blow kisses at such people. This woman looked like a cross between Don King and Bet Lynch, with more gold jewellery than Liberace. She eyed us keenly out of the lacy curtains of her mouldy static caravan (which she seemed to attribute an actual personality too - and constantly referred to as "she") and I knew we were in trouble. Ewan did enjoy playing with her swingball set though, and was fascinated by her tattoo collection. So that's good then.
Friday we explored the mean streets of Bungay, and enjoyed a jaunt around the castle there. Ewan made us laugh our heads off by pretending to run as fast as Bolt around the grounds.
Saturday was a trip to Beccles, an impromptu visit to a rock festival there (??!!! ahem), and a really lovely afternoon in Southwold - culminating in Ewan rolling naked in the sea and turning blue with the cold, and Iona throwing up all over herself on the Pier. What day out would be complete without her doing that? Having said that, she is a HUGE deal better than she has been of late. She had a suspected tummy bug around ten days ago, and has been randomly throwing up since. I think a good course of probiotics for kids have really sorted her out - and turned her back into the eating machine she so naturally is. We did manage to get both children fed and in bed snoring by 8pm; so Mark and I feasted on a bag of Monster Munch each, and fought (almost literally) over a small bag of peanuts because neither of us could be bothered to go and get ourselves a take-away from the vast array available in Bungay. At least we had organised wine ahead of time, so that was good.
Sunday saw us visit an aircraft museum in Flixton (I can't wait until Iona is bigger, and we get to drag those boys to a Princess Castle Extravaganza instead... are there such things?), and in the afternoon we went to my Grandparent's 65 wedding anniversary. 65!!!!! Can you imagine? Quite frankly, I found just the one year of marriage a bit of a struggle (clearly). I think it helps enormously that my Nanny has been deaf for the last twenty or years or so :) It was a lovely afternoon... lots of cakes, and got to see my lovely cousin Liza, who lives in the US and is expecting her much awaited first child later this year; I am so so happy for her. My Nanny was proudly showing everyone the Telegram from The Queen that I organised for them - despite the fact that my Grandad almost refused to sign for it from the postman, as he thought it was some sort of elaborate hoax that was bound to end in them losing all their money and home, or some such. :-) Our arrival home last night with two exhausted children was thankfully uneventful, and I even managed to sit down with a glass of wine and revel in a smug-fest re: Team GB, and watch the very quirky closing event for The Olympics.
