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Woodcut 2 is bravely helmed out of Whispering Reeds by mate Tristan, under the watchful eye of skipper Ali.
Graham, erm, poses, while Jack pulls an equally weird face in the background. Although not officially recognised as a Mallards activity, pulling weird faces seems to happen a lot on camp.
Chris proves the point. Unless that's an expression of extreme pain, to go with that paddle that he seems to have had impaled in his chest...
Ah, marvellous. Tristan returns an air of calm maturity to camp, standing on deck, controlling his crew's full attention. Unless they're looking at something else on the bank. That's always possible.
The fleet out on erm... Heigham Sound, possibly. Looks like Bure Classic at the front, followed closely by either Woodcut 2 or Brown Bess, with one of the nuts on the left.
Mark shows his true colours as he at last gains control of the boat. Casting aside the quiet, agreeable young man he once was, the terrifying visage of el Marko is revealed, along with his plans for world domination. Following a brief struggle, order was restored to the boat and once more the planet can rest easy. Well, probably.
Construction works at the beach. We'll leave them for a moment, to get on with their mammoth task...
Vicki: "I say, marvellous sand construction, that, what what?"
Rachel: "Rather, old fruit. Mmmmm."
Tristan: "Nnnnnngheeeee."
And indeed, it was. Behold - fort Jeremy! (Fort Jeremy © Jeremy and Co. Sand-based Construction Inc. Patent pending. All rights reserved.)
Some more of da boyz chillin' at the beach. Yo. Sup. Where are Sam's legs?
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