Day 2 - Leaving Belgium behind

It was decided to continue to Luxembourg and find a Gucci campsite from Mouldy's extensive choice of locations. T2 would be following SRS much more closely than last time due to the fact that SRS now had Satnav! 70% of the next leg was driven in the pouring rain and buffeting wind, the visibility was shite and the scenery was likewise. The tour stopped off for a brew halfway, and came to the aid of a German damsel in distress who's car had run out of radiator water.  Our good deed done for the day we crossed the Luxembourg border and the scenery suddenly became fantastic. Even John Cox put in an appearance and whizzed past us in a VW Golf (ask Benger because I don't understand either)

We eventually reached a murtahurm park on the Belgian/Luxembourg border and it had all the mod cons, hooray! Electricity, running water, hot showers, a lovely little blond behind the bar, a bar, yes, a bar which we didn't kick the arse out of, much!

Both murtahurm crews stayed in the bar until closing time, exchanging pleasantries, spinning stories and selling toilet paper to the highest bidder - Benger, ya bastard! All because he was caught short with a Galapagos turtle's head up his arse thinking his knickers were an iceberg lettuce. Apparently Sir Alan Sugar is looking for a new apprentice!

As the bar approached closing time and Mouldy began to lose the power of speech, the conversation got around to the swimming pool opening hours.  The couple who owned the campsite said the pool never closed unlike the bar, so with this said, James picked up the owners wife and deposited her into the pool and then did the exact same to everyone else on the tour except Mouldy. The cold would have killed the old man stone dead, so with that in mind Mouldy swiftly became the official photographer.

With much splashing and jocundity, the magnificent 7 enjoyed the healing waters; well most of them did. Big Jock left the pool quicker than he entered it; in fact I don't even think he got wet! Funniest thing you've ever seen, he was like a hippopotamus on ecstasy trying to climb up the side of the pool.  If only he had looked behind him he would have noticed the steps, ha, ha.

With the laughter receding we all headed to T2 and drank ourselves to sleep, whilst trying hard not to wake up the neighbours (but we failed miserably).