Norfolk Broads
about 5 years ago, my dad decided a family holiday on the Norfolk Broads was the best thing for us. It was lovely, being able to moor up near a nice olde english pub and have a long, relaxing meal in the evenings. On one such evening, my dear old dad spotted a nice looking place, so we all get off the boat and wander along the country path. Had a lovely dinner, on the way back I spotted what looked like a drinks machine, just up from where out boat was moored. Drinks, no, cans of maggots, yes. My dad decided he'd like a can of them, not that he's ever been inclined to fish or anything. So, all the family gathered round to look at the squirming mass of blue, white and orange maggots. The novelty soon wore off.
Cut to the following morning, woken by a screaming sister. Daddy dearest had left said can of maggots on the top of the boat. I can only assume the can tipped over, because the little fuckers were everywhere. EVERYWHERE. In the beds, in our food, all over the floor and most importantly, in my hair. Generally ruining our holiday, as we spent the next four days constantly picking them out of our belongings. Also, the only radio station we could pick up was Radio 1. Says it all really.
( Fictional Emma, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 10:38, Reply)