We demand the finest wines available to humanity! And brains!
I thought we were goners for a while there.
Important bit. We're alive. We have Tigg's husband. We're back on the boat.
Penrith. Oh, Penrith.
Do you remember that bit in "Withnail and I" where they go to Penrith and drunkenly sprawl around the tea rooms? It's all a rather lovely quaint little town, isn't it? Full of charm?
Not any bloody more it isn't. If I had the chance I'd go back and firebomb the place to the ground. We got trapped there by some of the most vicious, wickedly cunning zombies I've yet seen. Most of the ones who've been coming round our campsite have been slower, shambling creatures - still immensely dangerous, but killable. These were almost human - not noticeably decayed, smart, and terrifyingly fast.
I knew it was too quiet coming through on the way out - they must have spotted us, but laid low. I've never known them exhibit forward planning like that before. On the way back, they were lying in wait for us. They let us come into the middle of town, then a group of them rushed us. They were waiting for us at every single side street we drove down, cutting us off. We ran over a few of them, but at the end of it we had to abandon the minibus and ran as fast as we could with those demons on our heels, into a pub. There were a few more inside but we managed to finish them off between us.
We spent two days in the pub, cowering and keeping as quiet as we could, with stone walls and wooden shutters between us and them. Under normal circumstances two days in a pub would be a great thing, but I've never been so terrified. On the third day, when we saw they still hadn't stopped waiting for us outside, we escaped via the cellar, out down a manhole into the sewer main and emerged on the other side of town where we stole a couple of cars and came back.
The minibus is still in the middle of Penrith, as far as I know - if you want it, it's yours, but I'm sure as hell not going back for it.
Important bit. We're alive. We have Tigg's husband. We're back on the boat.
Penrith. Oh, Penrith.
Do you remember that bit in "Withnail and I" where they go to Penrith and drunkenly sprawl around the tea rooms? It's all a rather lovely quaint little town, isn't it? Full of charm?
Not any bloody more it isn't. If I had the chance I'd go back and firebomb the place to the ground. We got trapped there by some of the most vicious, wickedly cunning zombies I've yet seen. Most of the ones who've been coming round our campsite have been slower, shambling creatures - still immensely dangerous, but killable. These were almost human - not noticeably decayed, smart, and terrifyingly fast.
I knew it was too quiet coming through on the way out - they must have spotted us, but laid low. I've never known them exhibit forward planning like that before. On the way back, they were lying in wait for us. They let us come into the middle of town, then a group of them rushed us. They were waiting for us at every single side street we drove down, cutting us off. We ran over a few of them, but at the end of it we had to abandon the minibus and ran as fast as we could with those demons on our heels, into a pub. There were a few more inside but we managed to finish them off between us.
We spent two days in the pub, cowering and keeping as quiet as we could, with stone walls and wooden shutters between us and them. Under normal circumstances two days in a pub would be a great thing, but I've never been so terrified. On the third day, when we saw they still hadn't stopped waiting for us outside, we escaped via the cellar, out down a manhole into the sewer main and emerged on the other side of town where we stole a couple of cars and came back.
The minibus is still in the middle of Penrith, as far as I know - if you want it, it's yours, but I'm sure as hell not going back for it.