To celebrate passing her driving test, this week my friend Emily did the brave thing and took myself, and three of our friends through the Birkenhead tunnel and along the A roads to Shell Island, Wales. Cramped into a Volkswagen Polo with our bags on our knees and IPod speakers blaring, we looked like major scallies nodding our heads to tunes such as ‘One’ and ‘Stereo Love’.
One hour into the trip and we had to pull into a Little Chef (remember those) because the battery light was flashing and the engine was over heating. All I can say is, three guys and none of them knew their way around under the hood of a car, pfft.
Regardless, we made it to Shell Island without having to call the AA and ate chips in the very Inbetweeners-esque campsite canteen/games room/disco…
The beach at the campsite is something else, and worth ruining my Ugg boots for (sigh). We played drinking games and pushed Emily into the water, I threw up and we danced. A special mention needs to go to Dominic Imundi because without him, we would never have made it back to our tents in the sorry ass drunken state we were all in.
The five us woke up freezing and hungover ready for a greasy fry up and greasy fry up is what we got. After lying in the tent for a good few hours chatting away we packed up in the rain and got back in the car for the three hour journey home.
We’re already planning on returning back to Shell Island in the coming weeks, but possibly in a different car because it’s possible that the Polo won’t last another trip to Wales without conking out on us…
Song of the trip