Wilson is now soaking his sore feet after the Children's Parade. (I begged him not to wear those rubber boots on such a hot day…)
He is using this time profitably, though, by questioning the sTone Bros about their childhood holidays in the quarry.
It appears that what they used to enjoy most was the constant noise of the excavating machines and intermittent blasting, and the beautiful views of the rocks through the incessant rain.
Bournemouth it is, then — which is lucky as I've already booked the hotel.
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