The Prestonians

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As a happy consolation for feeling off-colour on Friday, Mrs H and I had the pleasure of going abroad for the weekend. So, after a hastily-consumed tea, we loaded up the car and headed off to England’s Green, Unpleasant Land (as I used to think the song went).

Such a nice weekend, all told. The Clark Jnrs were on predictably excellent form. On the Saturday, we enjoyed a morning at Formby. This is a little stretch of coastline just to the North of Liverpool, where, if you are prepared to tramp through the nearby forest, you might happen across a red squirrel or two.

There were hordes of children who thought that the best way to entice said beasts into the open would be to tear after them, screaming at the top of their lungs, whilst pelting them with National Trust-endorsed nuts. Consequently, decent sightings were few and far between.

From forest to beach, where we had a shot of Mr Clark Jnr’s new kite. Smashing stuff. On perusing the instructions, Clark Jnr noted that the kite was not to be crashed into the ground (so, once it’s up, it has to stay up forever). Sadly, the rule was broken many, many times that afternoon, often in hilarious, life-endangering style.

The evening was rounded off nicely with a surprise trip to The Tamarind Tree, where we enjoyed a fanastic meal. I ventured for the Lamb Paneer, which taught me that, despite everything I thought I knew, cheese and curry is a winning combination.

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