In Which Dr K Does Not Pee In The Bushes And We Encounter A Retarded Parking Meter

After a maHOOsive fry up in a cafe in Westbourne with some very suspect Dhaliesque paintings on the walls, Dr K, Stut and I headed down to Hengistbury Head, one of my old favourite places.

But on the way, we made a brief stop off at the mighty Chick King in Southbourne:


This may not look like much to the untrained eye, but to a learned historian, specialising in Bashley Caravan Park history circa 1993, it will be immediately obvious that this is the legendary Chick King burger joint that was frequented of an evening by Swin, Wale, Honey and other great figures, including myself, after a late shift!

Visits to this establishment were often followed by a trip to Christchurch where the 'Gribblies' of the Highlander nightclub (the only one in town) were treated to a view of one or both of Swin's buttocks.

This was considered a great honour, particularly if you had only popped out of the club to vomit on the pavement or pick a fight with the bouncer.

Anyway, back on topic.

It was very cold at Hengistbury Head. We walked up to the top of the head and enjoyed the view:



and then walked back down the other side.

Dr K was busting for a pee, so we ventured into a cafe by the beach and drank tea, while she enjoyed the rare luxury of a surprise unisex toilet.

And then we went to Southampton where we met my brother and failed to eat steak.

Finally back in Bournemouth, after failing to find any parking in the prison car park (one of the many problems with cheap shitty centre hotels) we had to resort to paid street parking. We attempted to feed the parking meter the required £3, only to have it spat back in our faces, along with an extra quid and a ticket dispensed for twice the time that we'd intended to pay for anyway!

I can only assume that this parking meter had escaped from the local Special Needs School for Retarded and Otherwise Mental Parking meters!