Some girls just can't be tamed

All hail me on my triumphant return to the land of my fathers.

Tomorrow the Puddle Expeditionary Force will invade Beirut-on-sea (Gosport) for the beer festival. Wonder if they'll get in the newspaper again, perhaps even for the right reasons?
Anyway, we'd carefully timed our departure so that there was a chance we'd drive past Bud on his way home on the cycle path of the Eastern Road. That way, we could go Haw Haw, we're in the warm with the radio and you're cycling up the big hill listening to seagulls. And sure enough, half way down, there was the old dopey peddler himself! We hootled and pulled over to laugh, and then we raced back - due to traffic, he won.
Swimming was great. There's a new trainee teacher who was nice and so forth but she has to learn about the perils of wearing mascara in pools.
I played with the new wooden railway track turntable. My one is much bigger than Bens' and has more knobs. I bet he can't wait to get his hands on it. Slight issue: when I was unpacking it, they were unpacking the overnight bags. So when I found a small sachet of "Silica Gel Desiccant Environment Friendly Do Not Eat Throw Away", I assumed it had to be a vital part of the new track component. Thus I acquired the kitchen scissors, opened the little white bag, and scattered the contents over the turntable, because obviously it's those rocks that you see on the railway line. Why was this wrong?