I Enjoy A Good Grind.

Wandering along the cafe front in Ramsgate yesterday afternoon, between showers, on my way to the Belgian Bar (cafe) for a spot of lunch and some Leffe Tovers, I was surprised to be confronted by a bunch of tents, offering almost everything a girl could need for a good afternoon out.

First hit was the curry tent, hosted by a right couple of MILLs (Mothers I'd Like to Lick), for a satisfyingly spicy experience, all washed down with some Gadds' No3 from the beer tent, served by the horniest looking MILL that I'd come across since the last time I bought a beer in their tent, in July. Strange how I wasn't attracted to her then.
And I loved the driftwood furniture that they'd decked the place out with.
It made me think of salty seamen. Ahh, good old days!

But the madman in the next tent, with his rendition of The Texas Chainsaw Art Massacre, was nothing short of astonishing!
I couldn't quite make out what he was trying to fashion from his lump of wood, but he seemed to be having a whale of a time hacking into it with his chainsaw and angle-grinder, while deafening everyone within fifty feet and spraying them with sawdust.
I had a little chat with him while he was standing back to consider which bit of his wood he was going to attack next, and was informed that his nine inch tool, while grinding, because of wear and tear and the awkward placement of one of his nuts right in the middle of it, could only penetrate to a depth of about four inches.

Useless info. to a woman of my interests, of course.

So what the Hell was that all about, and why weren't we told about it?
If anyone's interested, they'll be there again today, until 4pm.