Friday the 13th in Port Dover

hug that skull, weirdoI just spent two nights under canvas with the edible Nikki in the sleepy town of Port Dover. For that weekend it was turned inside out and upside down by thousands upon thousands of hairy, sweaty, middle aged bikers. Oh, their husbands and boyfriends were there too, but these kind of things are always about the ladies. One resident in particular sticks in my mind. He worked at one of the few stores on the high street actually open that weekend and he spent the whole day standing in the doorway almost buried under plastic, yelling “Beads¬†for boobs!” He wasn’t interested in seeing my respectable C cups but was kind enough to help Nikki up the step and into the store with a well placed hand.¬†Sumbeech.

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