THIS time next week Butlins at Bognor Regis will be hit by some of the UK's finest blogging talent – as it unveils a swanky new hotel.
I know that the wondrous Joanne Mallon from Parentdish is going and have a sneaking suspicion the super-talented (I am not just saying this, she really, really is) Keris is up for it, as well as Antonia Chitty and Jo Wildman – another two writers I can't wait to meet thanks to all the help and encouragement they have given to me and lots of other people online.
I'm very sad that none of my fellow mums who came to Florida earlier this year will be there, especially as I have another sneaking suspicion that the two trips are likely to be connected as PRs latch on to the 'power' of parent blogging, thanks in no small part to their adventures with Mickey.
The thought of DulwichDivorcee getting flirty with a redcoat had me all a flutter and I know Laura would have me in stitches at the prospect of experiencing a performance from Eoghan Quigg. I fear we may have heckled together.
I can imagine what Jane would have had to say, am secure in the knowledge Erica will get to review the facilities for herself and the lovely Lulu, well it's just not her thing. The bartenders can rest easy that they won't come under Becky's watchful eye. Though her fantastic brand of food blogging wouldn't go amiss.
Still, I'll solider on.
I have some great memories of Butlins. That's from a childhood holiday when my lovely grandad came too and was starstruck by Vince Hill appearing at Barry Island's The Pig and Whistle, to when I went with my family to Skegness one snowy February and lapped up Bananas in Pyjamas.
For me, a notable Butlins memory is from our trip of 1978. As The Commodores crooned Three Times A Lady, me and my dad stood and watched the wrestling.
As we chanted: "Eas-y..eas-y..eas-y!" one bear of a man pulled the other's pants down far enough to expose his behind.
Oh we laughed. And as the bare-arsed fighter got his own back, gripping his by now wrong-footed opponent in a half-nelson on the floor, we shrugged and turned away.
"It's a fix," my dad assured me and off we sidled for a day of pro-football coaching for my brother and a few hours in an amusement arcade for me, years before Nessa made herself comfortable in the change kiosk.
Something tells me the attractions on offer may be a little different this time around. But I'm hoping Joanne may join me in recreating the wrestling scene, for old times' sake.
Thanks to Joanne for including this post in her 'best of the blogs' roundup – still no word on the wrestling endeavour, sadly.
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