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'fraid it's Uncle Reg again but this time in a more supporting and family orientated role where he decided that whilst he was sober long enough to make any kind of decision at all is that what we all needed was a touring holiday in the Lake District-where at first he though it was in Hyde Park-(taking in the Old Kent Road of course whether it was on the way or not)but the problem was that we had nothing to tour Wapping with let alone tour what might just as well have been somewhere on another continent on another Planet when considering the distance involved and the fact that nobody even knew where it was and in what direction it might have been if they did.

So,with that technicality conveniently put on hold,Uncle Reg bought an old Removals Van off the milkman who also didn't know where the Lake District was so sold it to Uncle Reg hoping that he did with the promise that the spare wheel would follow-if he could find it which explained why there was also no wheelbrace or jack either as there was never a spare wheel in the first place-just a spare inner tube,a packet of patches,a stick of French Chalk and a foot pump but all thrown in for nothing at extra cost.

So,one fine London summer's morning we drove through a wall of fog where the front wheel fell off before we even got out of our street and after getting that fixed Uncle Reg bought an old stove and punched a hole in the roof with a chisel through which he poked the chimney,lit it,immediately wished he hadn't,smoked us all out and this was all in a lay-by just outside the East India Docks barely half a mile up the road from where we had left two days earlier and just leaving another three or four hundred miles to go before we saw our first lake and all this as we crossed the Devon/Cornwall border,both ways-or it might have been Wales...in fact it was Wales though the locals called it Scotland.

Finaly however,Cumbria loomed into sight and so did Conniston Water as the brakes failed miserably thus allowing us to glide majestically into the carpark,through it and take out the barrier and soak our weary limbs waist deep and cab high in Cumbria's finest lake-where Mr Jobsworth,car park attendant and local Maffia representative combined,charge d us for the privelage and for a swift fiver,he could organise a tow truck and swimming lessons and for another even swifter fiver,scrub the repair bill for what was left of the barrier,two poles and a couple of yards of mangled wire.

So,two weeks later our first holiday with Uncle Reg came to an end where for the third swift fiver in two weeks Jobsworth took the caravan off our hands and offered,for another 'swiftie',to direct us to the nearest station where we finaly ended up-on the up fast express to the North as Uncle Reg poured over a map desperately looking for a better and faster route back to Wapping and The Old Kent Road in particular.

Dizzy D

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