What I did on my hols
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My name is Rhodri and my teacher, Mrs Price, said I had to write a blog about what I did on my holidays. I didn't know what a blog was but Dad said it was just a story you wrote on the internet, only you were allowed to lie more because no one would read it. But I'm not going to lie because I have to hand my blog in when I start year five and my teacher will read it and, if I lie, then “Woe betide me” – whatever that means.
We got up early this morning because Devon is a long way from North Wales. My brother, Rhys, had Coco-pops for breakfast but I had toast because Coco-pops turn the milk brown and make it look like diarrhoea. Rhys can't spell diarrhoea even though he's in year nine but he says he doesn't care because he's too cool for school, which means he's an idiot. Mam says Rhys is an undiagnosed dyslexic, which also means he's an idiot. Rhys can't spell "dyslexic" either, because he is an idiot.
Mam drove the car for ages until we got to the motorway when Dad took over. We don't use the motorway very often because there isn't one near us, but Dad says it's “a good way to get from A to B” which doesn't make sense because we're going from Ruthin to Shaldon, which is R to S - or Wales to England, which is W to E. Rhys says it probably makes sense in Welsh but that wouldn't make any difference except that Wales to England would be Cymru to Lloegr, which is C to Ll. I told Rhys that he'd know that if he wasn't an idiot, so he hit me. Dad said to give it a rest in the back so I read my book about World of Warcraft and Rhys looked at the pictures of boobies in his magazine - it's called Nuts because you'd have to be a mental to waste £1.50 looking at boobies.
After a while it started raining. Everyone else complained, but I like it when it rains because I can follow the raindrops across the window with my tongue. Rhys says only a wanker would do that, but he's the one that spends money looking at boobies. I asked Dad what Devon was like and he said it was the seaside so it would be like Rhyl only with fewer Scousers. He said we were staying on a campsite but not in a tent because only morons use tents in the British climate, which was why he'd rented a static caravan. I asked if that meant we'd get an electric shock when we touched it, which was a joke but no one else got it.
It was ages before we got to the end of the motorway. England is huge! If you drove that far in Wales you'd end up in the sea or in Cardiff, which is worse. The towns in Devon have funny names like Beer which is where Mam says Dad should live, and Teignmouth which is pronounced Tinmouth and which sounds like a robot. When we got to Shaldon Dad parked next to the static caravan and we unloaded the car. The caravan had no wheels and was piled up on bricks, so maybe there are more Scousers in Devon than Dad thinks.
Dad said he didn’t want to do anything today because he was knackered so we went to the beach in Teignmouth. I made a sandcastle but Rhys didn’t want to help because he said that sandcastles are for babies. But babies can’t make sandcastles because they’re as stupid as Rhys. Dad went to the pub to watch the cricket which is really boring and unpatriotic because he was supporting England. I support Wales but they don’t have a team. Dad says that it’s good Wales don’t play cricket because that way they can’t lose to Australia all the time.
Mam lay on a towel because she said she wanted to enjoy the sun before it started raining again. She made me rub oil on her back which was a bit icky. She had a very small bikini on and she undid the string when she lay face down so that she didn’t get a tan-line. Sometimes she sun-bathes in the garden without wearing bikini top at all, but it’s okay because she only does that when Mr Roberts next-door is mowing the lawn and she doesn’t need me to rub oil in then because he’s “very helpful with things like that”.
Rhys said he just wanted to lie on the beach and look cool in his shades. It didn’t work because the sunglasses made him look like he was blind. He said that sun-glasses meant that girls wouldn’t notice when he was staring at their boobies, but they would have noticed because every time he saw a girl he kept rubbing himself. I got bored with the sandcastle and went to play in the park on the sea-front. Rhys told me to keep an eye out for girls and come and tell him if there were any nice ones, which just shows how stupid Rhys is because girls aren’t nice, they have nits.
The park was cool, it had a great climbing frame made out of ropes and a big slide and cool swings, I wasn’t bored for twenty minutes. I couldn’t remember where Mam and Rhys were when I’d finished so I walked along the sea-front to look for them. There was a little bit of the beach next to the river with no one on it except three girls sun-bathing in even smaller bikinis than Mam’s, none of them were wearing the tops. Two of them were quite pretty and smiled at me, the other one was fat and smoked. She was mean. She shouted at me and asked me if I was staring at her boobies. I nodded to be polite but I wasn’t looking at her boobies because they were all droopy, I was looking at the other girls’ boobies.
“You want to see me beaver then, you little perv?” she shouted.
I said yes because we don’t have beavers in Wales, only otters. The others girls laughed and called her a chicken until she dropped her bikini pants and showed me her minge. I ran away then because it was all droopy too. When I told Rhys he said I was a lucky bastard and ran back towards the river rubbing himself.
Rhys had a black eye at breakfast and his sun-glasses were broken but he wouldn't say what had happened. Dad didn't want to watch the Cricket because England were getting thrashed. Mum wanted to go back to the beach because the weather was still nice but Rhys didn't want to. I asked him if the mean girl frightened him with her minge but he wouldn't answer. Dad didn't want to go on the beach either so we dropped Mam by the pier and Dad drove to Dartmoor which is just like Wales but with wild horses that are really, really tiny because no one feeds them.
We went to Haytor which isn't made of hay at all, it's made of Granite which is a rock. Dad and me climbed it but Rhys stayed in the car with his magazine because he said that tors are boring but they're not because nobody knows whether they were made by prolonged chemical weathering under tropical conditions or by mechanical weathering during the ice age - that's what it said in the guide book. I asked Dad how the tors were formed and he said that God had probably dropped them when he was gardening in Heaven. But that doesn't make sense because God is perfect so He wouldn't drop things and, if He did, he'd pick them up and put them away properly.
It was windy on top of the mountain and I got a bit of a snotty nose, but when we got back to the car the tissues had all disappeared and the car smelled funny. Dad drove us to some more tors and made both of us climb them because he said that Rhys needed something productive to do with his hands. Some of the tors have weird names; Pu Tor and Cox Tor sound rude and Dad says that Dunnagoat Tor sounds like something the RSPCA should investigate but when I asked him why he said he couldn't explain.
“What'll it be, 'andsome?”
So I asked him if he was a paedophile but he said he didn't like stamps. When he gave me the ice-cream he said:
“There you'm goes, me lover.”
I was scared of him so I ran away and dropped the cones. Dad went back and argued with him until he gave us free ice-creams and Rhys said that he'd tell the police that the man had tried to touch him unless he gave us a flake each. So I said that if he didn't put raspberry sauce on it I'd tell the police that I'd seen him rubbing himself like Rhys. Rhys hit me but the man gave us a triple scoop and ten pounds each. English people are nice.
Dad took us all to Torquay for “a change of scene”. Mam said she wanted to lie on the beach but no one else wanted to, so the rest of us went to the Amusements Museum which sounded cool but wasn't because it was just a load of ancient slot-machines from the old days before they had Wii's.
Dad said that when he was a boy that they still had slot-machines like that in Llandudno but I don't think that's true because there are no arcades in Llandudno because it's where old people go to die. I beat Dad eleven–nil at Air-hockey and then played whack-a-mole, which is a really old game about animal cruelty. Then I was bored so I put my last ten pence into a machine from thousands of years ago, with puppets of Sooty and Sweep playing musical instruments in it. It was rubbish, they just jiggled about a bit and played some old time music. We wanted to go then but Rhys was still playing Donkey Kong. Dad said that he'd spanked his monkey enough on this trip already and Rhys sulked.
After that we went to some cave where people lived before they even had Donkey Kong. A man dressed in a caveman costume tried to give me a high-five on the way in but I ducked because he must have been very naughty at school to have to do a job that embarrassing and Mam says I shouldn't make friends with naughty people.
The caves were all right because there were bones of dead people and cool animals that don't live here any more, like cave bears and sabre-tooth cats. The guide said the people that lived in the caves weren't like us. I think they were probably Polish and ate all the cool animals while they were living in the cave because Polish people ate all the swans in our park, it said so on the news.
When we'd finished in the cave we had burgers in their cafe. Mam wouldn't have allowed it if she'd been there because she says that burgers are made from mashed-up cows. Mine wasn't - it was made from mashed-up chickens. I tried getting free ice-cream by telling the boy behind the counter that I was going to tell the Police about him touching me but he didn't seem to understand. I think he may have been the same one who dressed up as a caveman earlier. Or maybe he was Polish too.
Then Dad said that Mam would be fed up showing her boobies to people by now and we went back to the caravan.
Mam and Dad weren't talking to each other when we had breakfast. Mam said that she wasn't coming back to Ruthin because she'd got a job dancing in a club in Torquay. I asked why she couldn't get a job in the Miners' Institute at home but Dad said the punters would faint if Mam wobbled her boobies in their faces because they're all old. But Mr Roberts next-door never faints when Mam does that and he's nearly forty.
After breakfast we packed the car and Mam got in a taxi. Dad said he couldn't face driving all that way yet so he took me and Rhys to see the new Harry Potter film. Dad and Rhys cried all the way through, but it wasn't that bad except that Ron kept trying to kiss Hermione but she wouldn't let him because he was a ginger.
After that we went home.