My Easter Holiday In Yorkshire

This Easter I went on a holiday with my mummy and daddy and we went to Scotland to a place called Yorkshire.

My daddy drove the car because my mummy doesn’t drive because my daddy says he doesn’t trust whitey to drive cars. I don’t know what that means. We left very early in the morning so that we could avoid all the other cars on the road but daddy decided to use the London M25 and he complained that that plan fell to shit straight away. His words.

Mummy and daddy liked Matlock Bath except for the rampant crime which was present everywhere like this photo of a woman stealing a cutout of a deep sea diver probably for sex later.

After the London M25 daddy drove the car on the M1 and it was full of roadworks because it was a bank holiday. Daddy swore a lot but then he laughed because some other cars didn’t understand what an average speed check was and they were only slowing down for the cameras and then speeding up and daddy said he hoped they got fined a million pounds.

We stopped in a motorway service station and had a wee and then mummy and daddy looked at the map to see if there was somewhere interesting to stop and they said that there was a place in a national park nearby which looked interesting so we went to the Peak District.

We drove through a place called Ripley and mummy and daddy laughed and kept saying “Ripley!” and “mostly” because they like a film where a little girl like me says “Ripley!” and “mostly” but then daddy said that Ripley was a shit hole. His words.

We drove to a place called Matlock Bath but we didn’t see any baths which is silly although we were only there for a few hours. Mummy and daddy laughed and kept saying “Matlock” like Grampa Simpson but they don’t always laugh and say the names of places they travel to. They are weird but they aren’t that weird all the time. Matlock Bath was pretty and had a river in it and cable cars which we did not go on.

Daddy made sure that me and mummy stayed away from this man in Wakefield because he said the man would try to make us become his bitches and hose. I don't want to be a hose.

The place we stayed at in Yorkshire was called Wakefield and mummy and daddy like it there because they like a rugby team who plays there called the Wildcats. Mummy was upset because they used to have a nice light blue kit but now it’s white or dark blue and ugly as shit. Her words.

We watched the Wildcats play rugby against the Tigers and the Tigers won the game although the fight in the stands behind us was more even. Daddy was disappointed with the game even though he and mummy always see Wakefield lose when they watch them. Daddy was also disappointed with the fight in the stands because he said that rugby is usually a nice sport compared to football and it was the first time he had seen police have to turn up at a game.

On Saturday we visited an abbey near a place called Ripon and it was very large and the walk was very long but it was very pretty. While we were walking around the ruins and walking along the river and when we stopped for some cake and a drink daddy tried to find out how Portsmouth were doing in the football game against Southampton on his phone but there was no phone signal which made daddy annoyed. Bunch of lazy, useless, medieval, Cistercian monks not giving any consideration to future people’s needs to keep up-to-date with local rivalries against the scum by building so effing far from a bleeding mast. His words.

We had chocolate cake and a bottle of Sprite in Fountains Abbey just like the monks used to do in olden times.

We went to a nice restaurant and had Italian food. Mummy and daddy drank a bottle of red wine.

On Saturday night we went to a pub where there wasn’t a karaoke because mummy and daddy hate karaoke and were amazed at how many pubs had them. The pub we were in had a disco and Yorkshire people danced to try to have sex with each other later except for one man who had his jeans tucked into his shoes and would not ever have sex ever. Daddy tried each of the real ales in the pub but he did not like them very much. Tasteless, watery, creamy piss from people who wouldn’t know a full-bodied, tasty ale if it jumped up and shot them in the face with a rifle that delivered high calibre bullets of truth. His words.

Daddy drove home on Sunday and he drove quite fast and didn’t stop and then he was quite tired and upset because the holiday was over. And I was upset too and I cried and mummy tried to tell me everything was okay but then daddy told me I was a fictional construct for narrative purposes and that mummy and daddy didn’t want children because children are horrible and have poor grasp of grammar among many other issues like being smelly and noisy so that was okay.

Author: Child

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