Murder at the beach hut.

Thursday's are beach hut days. We arrived here early this morning after a frantic drive along the A14 to Felixstowe.

Grandpa carried out several maintenance tasks and I helped fit the new beach hut number plaque above the door, albeit in a very small way.

Sat and watched the many people on the beach whilst eating freshly prepared sandwiches from the nearby kiosk.

Murder, Murder, Murder. Grandpa bashed the back of my head with the big iron pole which goes over the doors to keep then securely closed.

No real problems or blood but almighty God it hurt.

Now back to South Cambridgeshire to feed the cats and get some dinner.

What a rather eventful day it has been for the two of us today.