Canvey Island

I have come to realise that this blog is predominantly written during my college hours. Well, i have come to realise that I am easily distracted.

Well, I've always known that, and also known I have big enough bollocks to put those easily distracted thoughts to use and go on here to take my mind away... metaphorically of course. :D

I have also realized that i need a real camera. A decent one. Not my current camera which is no better than my camera on my Nokia 6070 (whoever has owned one of these bricks would know just how frustrating these excuses for mobile phones really are. The only positive thing I can say is that it's so simple Jade Goody could operate it with her tongue, and it holds its battery like a camel holds it's water)

*hiss*

Does anyone have a good idea on how much a good camera costs and what models to go for? Any replies would be much appreciated!

Also, my Daniel is on his way right now to take his first theory test on driving. I'm quite nervous for him, as this will mean he'll have his license by mid-February... Heaven. I really cannot wait till he does!

The first place to go on the list when he gets it is good old Canvey Island. Ahhh, Canvey Island.

I can still smell the soggy smell of wet seaweed on the "beach" or, more specifically, the stones, and see the oil liners transporting their cargo up the Thames estuary through the mist that constantly hangs in the centre of the water, even in heatwaves.

The sound of children screaming with surprise as they run into the murky frozen waves, middle aged couples walking their dogs with hands stuffed in their fleeces and the big cafe that used to sell assorted seaside related nicknacks such as crablines, buckets and spades, candyfloss and the like.

Then you would walk up the stairs, through an iron gate in the sea defense wall, down the grassy slope and into the centre of the action, where the crazy golf area resides, the arcades flash their fairground lights as all children under 4.5 feet tall drag their exhausted parents inside to further empty their pockets on trying to grab a cheap soft toy on the crane machines, and the centre of this seaside wonderland?

The Monico Pub. Oh Monico, with your white rounded edges and stark, classic typography on the walls in scarlet red and rickety wooden benches that stang your bum when you sat down, shivering in your swimsuit wrapped in a sandy beach towel, sipping your coke and crunching your ready salted Walkers while the adults glugged down their assorted beers and the odd gin 'n tonic... at least, thats how I remember it.

Canvey, Canvey, you are home to so many childhood memories, from eating fish and chips in the chip shop next to the arcades, holding on for dear life on the ancient crumbling parachute ride waiting for it to fall down (but it never did, at least when we went on it. Apparently thats why the fairground isnt there anymore) to winning my two old goldfish in the summer and kept them alive for 3 years. RIP Jimi and Hendrix :(

Oh Daniel, please pass your test. I can't wait to smell that smell and hear those sounds and taste those chips and candyfloss.