Cones

The cones were doing a great job of helping people avoid the massive puddles after Kim Wilde :D

This morning, we escaped Butlins and had brunch up the coast, then we walked along the beach, looking for pretty shells (not to keep: nature needs the shells) and, in my case, plodging in the icy-cold sea.

When we noticed ominous clouds, we made the prudent decision to head back to the car. We timed it well.

We had a cup of tea in the cafe of a National Trust property, then wandered round the garden. It was so peaceful being among the plants, and we discovered a really pretty feathery thing (see extra) we hadn’t seen before.

Back at Butlins, we rested until it was time to get ready to go out. Today’s offerings were Kim Wilde, who inexplicably told a gardening anecdote in the middle of the set, From The Jam, a tribute band to The Jam (meh), and Black Lace.

Black Lace. They had the audience singing and dancing and conga-ing. They had the young security guard mystified beyond comprehension (see extra).