Breakfast at 9:11

Can you imagine our reaction?

We travel alllllll the way from Germany, the homeland of Porsche, to the county where our rellies live (please bear in mind that my geography is not of any standard, dad, before you start quibbling) to find that part of the car park had been commandeered (surely a German word?) by the Porsche Owners Club.

You can run, but you can't hide...

In other news...Little miss bossy tried her damnedest to burn a hole in Mr K's credit card. The teen wasn't bored rigid by the backstage tour at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre (which could only have been improved by a personality transplant for the lady doing the tour, great on facts, zero on human interaction) And the evening's curry was awesome.

Looking forward to Sunday lunch!