Bucko's World

Entry Date: Sunday August 9th 2009
Having already had one close call with razor toothed reptile, I’m glad to find that by the time I get back from my run the Rep has already been and gone and I haven’t had to deal with her. I don’t know about you, but when I’ve spent thousands of pounds to go on holiday and get away from it all, the one thing that is never on the agenda for the first day is having half my day wasted by an under informed sex maniac whose only interest in seeing you is the commission she’ll earn selling you overpriced trips, and who’ll then not be seen again during my stay despite it quite clearly stating on the notice board that she will be in reception between 4.30pm and 6.00pm.” Funny though, that’s how most of us start it.

It turns out however that this one did have some useful information for us. Information so important that a meeting is called, the sacred text of St Lisa of Chislehurst is reverentially laid before us, and the British Museum novelty souvenir pen of correction is sought out from it’s holy resting place at the bottom the Marillion bag and is primed for service……..but more of that later.

The best thing about today is that there is a big blank next to it in the Itinerary (or, as it was never known, the Sacred Text”). It simply says “Rest day, Brunch?” What with the jet lag and all, it was thought best that we have a lazy morning in bed (or out running..) and afternoon round the pool (or in bed). We like that, but we like the idea of a big fat American style Sunday Brunch even more. The Frommer’s is consulted and before you know it we’re in the car, the Sat Nav is primed, and we’re on our way to the brilliantly named Celebration, Fla. And like all last minute, off the cuff, stick a pin in it and see what comes up decisions we make on the trip, it turn out be a belter.

As we pull our battle bus into town, it’s as if we’ve passed through a time warp back to the fifties. It’s all clapperboard fronted houses and pastel colours, there’s a proper high street with cafes and bars and real shops, and there’s a brilliant looking, retro fronted flea pit right in the middle, which thankfully still features those staples of any old cinema – 10 screens and Dolby digital surround sound. But best of all, is the fact the town centre is spread around a lake. A lake with a sign. A lake, with a sign, that says “Do not feed the Alligators”. It’s just fantastic. I’ve been in Florida less than twenty four hours and I’ve already found the place I want to live.

As we wander around we can’t escape the feeling we’re on a movie set. There’s the church, exactly like the one Slash walks out of before playing the guitar solo in the November Rain video, there’s the clock tower that could have Doc Brown hanging from it just as Marty McFly powers the Delorean down the road desperately trying to hit 88 miles an hour, there’s the aforementioned lake, full of snapping Alligators from Live and Let Die…..all we need is a storm and some forked lightning behind hotel and all your horror film nightmares could come true.

After our quick scoot round, we hole up in the Market Square Café, which not only boast Milkshakes and Malts on the windows like a proper fifties diner, it’s also appropriately styled with red leather and chrome stools up at the counter, and cosy booths to snuggle up in at the rear. The menu is handed round and it’s good, hearty, some may even say heart attack fare that’s served up here. I select the steak and eggs and am amused when Conor turns his nose up at the kids menu and demands an American cheese omelette, rather than the beans on toast he’s offered. However, the real star on the menu is the brilliantly named Baked Potato omelette. You get an omelette with a baked potato chopped up inside it, sour cream and chives on top and a portion of Hash Browns, which is basically a chopped up, fried baked potato, on the side. It’s a breakfast fit for a truck driver and so my wife orders it. The rest of the food is suitably massive and by the time we’ve drunk a lake of coffee and groves of orange juice we’re fit to burst. A few laps round the village pond are in order. But first….


…..the fountain. Opposite the flea pit style cinema and laid and in the style of a compass pointing the way to all the local landmarks is a display water fountain. Ok, it may not be a match for Bellagio’s but it’s pretty cool in the way it goes on and off, firing varying patterns of surprisingly cold water up into the air. Now, as we know kids are attracted to water like flies to road kill it’s no surprise that this fountain is full of them, screaming in pleasure as they run in and out of the powerful jets. As soon as our two see this, they’re off and running. Fully clothed, they’re straight in and soaked to the skin in seconds. If only we adults could get away with it, it would be marvellous. Coz it’s 101°F and 90% humidity and it just looks so much fun.


Having eventually rescued the kids from the joys of ice cold water soaking through their pants, it off for a brilliantly soggy walk around the lake. There’s turtles, storks, ospreys and every exotic bug imaginable to be seen, but despite our best efforts, not one single Alligator. No matter how close we, or indeed Shark Bait, get to the edge.

Despite this one disappointment, we have a great time, ending up back in the Market Square an hour later and chilling out by sitting in the rocking chairs (I kid you not) assembled under the sun shades around the lake edge. Actually, this is probably a great bit of population control by the local town council. Think about it. Old people, a bit tired after the dual exertions of eating a large meal and walking around the lake, decide to catch five minutes respite in a chair by the side of the pond. The gentle rocking motion send them off to sleep and as dusk drops and the temperature falls, the gators slip silently out of the lake……..

Of course as was bound to happen, the jet lag, combined with the soporific effects of heat and walking takes it toll and we head back home. It’s been superb, and we’re already planning to come even if it’s only to look for those elusive gators which, let’s face it, are so much more fun to have in your village pond than ducks or geese.