Cambridgeshire

I know. I've been away for too long. I have betrayed your loyalty, and you are probably baying for my blood. No, that would be tame, you are howling to a bleak and stormy sky of your undying hatred for anyone vaguely connected to the name Bradley. If I ever show my sorry face in your presence anon, you will rip my skin and hair off slowly using nothing but cans and trouser zips. You will scatter the parts of me that can't be mentioned (and as someone very rudely suggested the other day, probably wouldn't be worth mentioning even if they could be) over an area encompassing most of the known world, and some of Narnie, my highly original own little fantasy universe.

Still, I've been busy. I have ventured past the first frontier, surely the place where all legendary explorers must start on their way to greatness. I have voyaged to a land where sheep are mythical creatures on a par with the Jabberwocky and Balrog, where Ian Hislop roams free spreading poncyness and baldness in equal proportions behind him, and of course, where it is possible to call immediate female ancestors "Mam" without being subject to constant public ridicule. That's right, I've gone to see my cousins.

My trip began, and indeed was strewn throughout, with water. It rained the whole sorry four hour journey. Still, I had my crosswords, a new found passion of mine, and my great book of Blackadder, a slightly older but just as passionate passion of mine. We turned up at the campsite, ready to start our holiday merry-making, but we'd forgotten how wet the rain was, so we retreated to an Italian restaurant, which, if I might say so, served the most delicious lasagne.

I think I should point out at this point that about half an hour ago I unwittingly wrote almost three pages of boring waffling crap continuing in a similar vein, which I have now deleted (I was disgusted at myself concerning the whole "most delicious lasagne" affair, and that has only remained becuase it really was most delicious lasagne), and will now serve you the cream and marshmallows (extending the hot chocolate analogy, the stuff I've deleted was the dregs at the bottom of the mug, that no matter how long you pour down into your mouth, will never finish. I like this analogy). Our first relatives served cake, earning them almost infinite brownie points, or chocolate sponge points, whichever you prefer. A novel experience for me was playing Nazi Zombies for the first time, against lots of people who just sounded southern*. I even heard one of them state "I might go and do some homework now", surely worthy of the social death sentence up here. Back to the zombies. Suffice to say I died, in almost every sense of the world.

The second bunch of cousins in the ultimate banana tree of my family are extremely amusing, and small. For fear of reprimands, the fact they are small and amusing are in no way connected. The evening ended in the most violent game of football I have ever seen, which my team (the boys) won. Full stop**.

However, I'm almost certain the highlight of the trip, for my sister at least, came on our final day in Cambridge. For those who are not aware, punting is extremely popular in Cambridge, and entails one person standing on a raised platform at the back of a small boat and pushing against the bottom of the river with a massive pole. In short, which seems to be a developing theme in this post, we were nearing a bridge partially obscured by a tree, in a particularly difficult stretch of river, and the circumstances combined so that I fell off the boat. If I'm honest, I don't see why everyone doesn't, the one thing I've noticed about small boats across the world is that the occupants are almost always sitting down. Still, I digress, I fell off the boat, much to the mirth of my sister as I paddled around the frankly disgusting water. I think I would have at least waited for her to resurface before screaming with laughter.

I shall talk more on this subject another time, for now though, farewell.

*I realise now that they were actually on my team, and it was the zombies we were fighting. I got slightly confused, and actually did quite a good job of getting everyone killed.
** Do you have any idea how hard it is not to elaborate on a point like that? I was adamant though, we won, that's all. I've eventually settled for a compromise, and down here I can tell you the final score was six-four to the boys, although we carried on with a penalty shoot out, which the boys also won.