Chertsey 20-23 April 2012

Happy St George's Day!

The final game of the season at the Stoop and the chance to meet up with my fellow retiree, Martin, suggested that yet another weekend at Chertsey was on the cards, particularly as the weather in late April should be a bit kinder.

As for the weather? Well, we can confirm that the bus is watertight and we also discovered that the awning is a real boon when it just doesn't stop raining.


Anyway, it was the usual run down on Friday (but in the morning now that I have time on my hands). Parked up on grass this time as there was no hard standings left (thanks to the useless camping club online system that is completely pants). I then wandered over to the river and found Martin and Mr Bumburglar moored up under the bridge. Martin decided that the mooring was not the optimum one, so moved into the bay in front of the hotel, throwing a line to me to haul him into the berth. I hauled and tugged until blue in the face, only to find that he had run aground and I was trying to haul 15 tons of metal and biscuits, plus shift the bed of the River Thames! Back we went and tied up at the original mooring and repaired to the pub for a spot of lunch.

The afternoon was spent wandering around the pubs of Chertsey (interesting and probably not recommended) before meeting Debs at the station and retiring back again to the pub for dinner.

Saturday, off to Twickenham to watch Harlequins v Leicester. which was fantastic game which we sadly lost. Ho hum, but there was some consolation in watching Murphy, the obnoxious Leicester Captain, get well and truly mullered by our brave boys! We then trundled back to Chertsey and Martin joined us for a consolation bottle of wine or 3.

Sunday, up and about and then off on a cruise to Runnymede in glorious warm sunshine. A quick cream tea in the National Trust tearooms (yummy) and then a walk up to the JFK memorial and the Magna Carta Memorial, before heading back to the boat just in time for the rain to start again. Damp, but content, we retired to the bus for dinner (BBQ chops cooked on the new(ish) grill). Knackered, we retired to bed fairly early and, in the morning, waved Martin off as he continued his travels, packed up and headed home in the continuing rain.



...and off he goes to cause mayhem and chaos on waterways everywhere

West Runton - 30 Mar to 1 Apr

There was a real need to get away this weekend after a very emotional and frantic last week at work before retiring on Friday. I shall certainly miss the good friends and banter at work, but I shall certainly not miss all those meetings! Oh well - onwards and upwards and back to Norfolk, slowly working our way around the coast, this time staying at West Runton, which lies between Cromer and Sheringham.

An easy drive up with Debs working in the bus (the 3 mobile Internet is a real boon), arriving in daylight (oh bliss) and negotiating the narrow, bumpy, twisty lane onto the site. The site managers were friendly and helpful and we were soon set up, watered up, powered up and boozed up! The site is large and very clean, but it hacks me off that the Camping Club class this as mid-season and ramp the fees up accordingly. It will soon be the case that a campsite will cost as much as a Travelodge, and us pensioners have to look after the pennies you know!


On Saturday, after a fitful nights sleep with still much on my mind, I went for an early walk (3 miles) down to West Runton and ended up on the beach, watching the sun rise.  However, getting to the beach meant crossing Incleborough Hill and, on entering the common, there was a sign warning of adders, then a sign warning of an electric fence, then a sign warning of wild ponies grazing and, finally, a sign warning of golfers!  If I made is across alive it would be a miracle, but I suppose I must be grateful that there was no minefield or a hungry pack of wolves roaming the plain! Anyway, back to the beach. The sun rose with a new dawn on my new life. It sort of put things into perspective and, happy, I walked back over the danger-filled hill, picking up the papers on the way.

Once Debs finally emerged, we breakfasted on bacon sarnies and then set off to walk to Cromer. We were both tired after the previous week, so progress was slow, but we crossed the hill enjoying the coconut smell of the flowering gorse, crossed the golf course and followed the coast into Cromer, where we had fish and chips for lunch overlooking the sea in the Red Lion Hotel (nice, but quite expensive). Wandering along the pier we popped into the lifeboat station, but couldn't understand a word the Coxswain said as his accent was so thick (lots to do with the launching and recovering his boot, which seems a strange thing to do). We then purchased some of the famous Cromer crab,, had an ice cream and then headed back to the site, stopping in East Runton to catch the result of our wonderful Harlequins win over Saffascum, maintaining out rightful place at the top of the table. Huzzah! Total distance walked - about 8 miles.

On Saturday evening the chip van turned up. Shall we just say that the owner was "Normal for Norfolk".

Knackered, we turned in early and both of us slept the sleep of the just and woke up refreshed and raring to go. After a quick read of the Sunday Times we headed off over the hill again in bright blue skies for a short bimble into Sheringham. Recognising that we were both still pretty worn out, we decided on an easy stroll along the coast, over Beeston Bump and into Sheringham. There are a number of static caravan parks along here and the tin monstrosities, whilst now painted light green rather than glaring white, could do with being painted dark green, not parked in lines and half planted in the ground to lessen the corruption of this glorious landscape.

In Sheringham we wandered around a gallery, I bought a T shirt and we had rather a nice cream tea before heading back again to West Runton and a pint in the pub we visited the last time we were up this way (about 10 years ago). Finally we got back to the site and relaxed in the warm sunshine outside the bus. Total walk - about 6 miles.

Monday, up and packed in record time, off site at 0730 and home and unpacked by 10. The weekend went all too quickly but it was a great way to manage the transition to retirement.

As for the site: large, quiet, spotless, tucked away and with glorious walks on the doorstep. Well worth another visit.

Norfolk 9-12 Mar 12

Kelling Heath Holiday Park, Weybourne in North Norfolk was the next destination and a fairly late start on Friday evening saw the GPS divert us across the Fen roads to avoid the traffic. The Fens - what can I say. Bumpy roads gave us half an hour of severe turbulence travelling along the raised "roads" alongside steep banks and Dykes that are too close for comfort. This, coupled with the notoriously bad Fen drivers, made for an interesting journey, but eventually we passed Downham Market and RAF Marham and arrived into more picturesque scenery around Sandringham just as it was getting dark.


Kelling Heath has a blackout policy to maintain dark skies, so finding the pitch marker was no easy task, solved by Debs standing on the marker and me aiming for her to marshal in. We soon set up and opened a nice cold beer and a curry.


On Saturday I awoke early and went for a walk to suss out the lie of the land. The North Norfolk Railway (The Poppy Line) runs alongside the heath and this weekend they were having a steam gala, so locomotives were being fired up ready for the event. I also read a board stating that Kelling Heath was adder territory, so I continued my walk across the heather goose-stepping like a demented stormtrooper to frighten the snakes away. A tip I learnt from a dear friend: always avoid wild women, snakes and alligators. Just the 'gator to avoid on this trip then ;O)

Eventually, Debbie emerged and we breakfasted on pancakes cooked on the new Cadac grill (yum yum) before heading off for a short bimble towards Sheringham. This 11.5 mile trek took us to Weybourne Station to watch the trains then cross country through the stunning National Trust's Sheringham Park and finally into Sheringham where we stopped for fish and chips in the pub (the plans was to sit on the sea front and eat, but it is not particularly attractive). We had a quick pootle around the shops, bought an ice cream and decided to walk back along the coast path, but some pillock had decided to plant a golf course in the way, so rather than risk trudging along the main road, we headed back inland, finally stopping for a very welcome cup of tea and a slice o' cake in Weybourne station.

Back on site, we stood for a while with the train spotters on Kelling Heath platform. We had to leave fairly quickly as the conversation was a bit ...erm...dull to say the least. Oh well, each to their own.


Saturday night we enjoyed a light snack, then headed off to the bar for a couple of pints and listen to the Jazz band.




Sunday was a bright and warm day. Out came the grill and bacon rolls were noshed, followed by a 7 mile cycle ride into Holt through the Forestry Commission Hundred Acre Wood. Holt is a very pleasant Georgian Town well worth the hour or so bimbling around. We'll have to come back when it is open! Arriving back on site, with Debs once again moaning about cycling and sore derrieres, we sat out in the warm sun and read the Sunday papers. It's strange but every time one of us commented on how peaceful it was, a steam train would let off its whistle. Spooky.

At 3 o'clock slightly red faced from a combination of exercise and sitting in the sun, we retired to the bar to watch England beat France. Debs got over excited again, especially as one of our favourite referees managed the game. Allain Rolland - what a complete and utter useless numpty you are!


Returning to the bus, slightly the worse for wear, we enjoyed grilled bratwurst and salad as the sun set over the trees and the steam trains chuff-chuffed in the distance. A wonderful day.


Monday, up early in the morning mist and the trundle home to clean up ready for the next trip.

81 miles each way and the bus computer read 35mpg average, which is not too bad for a big white box that is as aerodynamic as a brick


Kelling Heath? Great site with loads to do around the area. I would love to visit the Muckleborough collection and walk/cycle into Cley and Blakeney. That's for next time though.

Shropshire 25-27 Feb 12

A short run across to the wild west to spend the weekend at Jenny & Peter's house to join the celebrations for her birthday. Packing all sorts of crockery, food and other accoutrement (including 3 dozen eggs and a grandmother), we were grateful for our very large fridge, enabling us to store a vast quantity of salad and cheese.  The grandmother, obviously, did not travel in the fridge.

Stopping off for a quick lunch, we arrived in the early afternoon, said a quick hello to the rest of the family gathered for the occasion, before setting up at the top of their garden whilst the mob disappeared into Ludlow for their lunch. Ludlow may be one of the gastro-centres of the UK, but a limited availability of some basic items on the menu at their chosen venue ensured that one member of the family did not fully appreciate the experience. All too quickly some of the family returned and took up station in the bus to drink my secret stash of ale, eat us out of sausages and to watch Ireland v Italy on the TV.

Border control established. They shall not pass!

The afternoon was spent in front of the telly watching England's very unlucky loss to the Welsh. Never mind, it was a better performance than expected from a young team that has not been together for very long against the Welsh windbags, who were not so cocky after a scare from our brave boys in white. I'll just have to cheer for France for the rest of the competition. What is worrying is that my nieces, for some obscure and ridiculous reason, have decided that they are leek-bashers, despite being born in God's own country. I count myself very lucky that I have managed to avoid the streak of insanity that runs through my family!

Saturday night was spent enjoying a very sumptious meal and some exemplary cooking from said demented nieces, with Katie in particular demonstrating that she is a bit of a dab hand in the kitchen. Full, we climbed the hill to bed.

Sunday I awoke early and watched the dawn break over the Malverns. A quick breakfast, then it was all hands to the pump to prepare for the party. The bus was turned into a salad factory, churning out tray after tray of salad and, at 12 sharp, the hungry hordes of locals descended for their scoff. In all, it was a great party, despite some examples of the impact of living in a remote rural community for too long.

Monday, after a bit of furniture removal, we packed up and, knackered, headed back to civilisation to unpack and prepare for the next adventure.

Learning from experience:  It's easy to leave a cab window open when you have screen covers. Wondered why it was a bit chilly in the morning.  

Chertsey 27-29 Jan 12

Once again, back to Chertsey to give the bus a run and take in a Quins game (LV Cup vs Leicester). This time, however, I went down alone on Friday, diverting to collect some old photos from Pat Sheahan, a very old friend, who lives in in Camberley. In stunning, bright weather I arrived at Chertsey, set up in minutes and debated whether or not to pull one of the chairs out of the storage bin and enjoy the sunshine. The weather really is odd, with daffodils and crocus appearing and the grass growing quite considerably. Has Spring sprung already?

I was not allowed to post pictures of her going
 to the shower in shorts, puffa
 and bright pink wellies!

Debs had arranged to be at the Station by 1815hrs, but, typically, South West`Trains screwed up yet again and she missed her connection. She didn't get in until 1845hrs, so it was a mad dash to get to the Kingfisher for a meal booked for 1900hrs. The pub was a disaster. They had no record of the booking, despite me showing the manager the text confirmation. They had no Doom Bar beer and we sat there for nearly two hours only to be served some pretty average fish and chips. Still, the manager let us off the price of the drinks, but, in all, not a brilliant experience, which is a shame as the last couple of visits to this pub were really good.

Chertsey Bridge

Saturday, up for egg banjos and a drive to the Stoop, parking in the posh bit with the coaches. We cooked up bratwurst for lunch and relaxed, watching the car park fill up. One poor woman had the fright of her life as she nosed through the window of what she thought was an empty motorhome, only to find me waving my bratwurst at her! She soon scuttled away! The game was rubbish, so we had a quick chat in the bar afterwards and headed back to Chertsey for a dinner of pasta arribiata and garlic bread. There will be no vampires around the bus tonight!

Sunday featured a bit of a dawn stroll around Chertsey Meads then a very lazy morning with bacon rolls and a relaxed read of the Sunday Times, followed by another little stroll around the site and a very interesting chat to a couple who managed to secure a couple of canoes to their motorhome roof and, ingeniously, didn't access the roof of their bus by a ladder up the side, but by using a loft ladder to clamber up from the inside through one of the rooflights.  Hmmm - food for thought. Lucky devils were on their way to Greece in their motorhome, whilst we headed back up north to Huntingdon, cleaned the bus out and started thinking about what we actually use and what is just extra baggage.

The Stoop (Rosebine) car park They obviously know who we are. No muddy old grass for us!

West Yorkshire 14-16 Jan 12

Once again we experienced that feeling of apprehension and knowing that we are venturing into the unknown when you turn right onto the A1 and see the sign "The North"! Despite the remarkably mild weather, we knew that heading for the tundra of Yorkshire would test Tom's limits, so we equipped for Arctic survival for this trip. How right we were to do so.


The journey up was great on a sunny, bright day and we stopped at Brownhills in Newark to see if they had a more suitable bracket for the new TV. Whilst there, we had a quick look around a Startrail that is a year older than Tom and was priced at more than we paid. The styling has definitely changed for the better and we went away quite pleased that the value on the bus appears to be retained. Debs was quite taken with a massive Swift Kontiki, but it was nice to get back in our home and continue the journey.

Brrrr!

At the small campsite on the grounds of the Halifax Steam Brewery and Cock of the North pub we found only one other nutter on the small site. The owner emerged from his flat, we gave him £20 and we attempted to fill with water, only to find the hoses were frozen. He took us around the front of the building (reversing skills were needed here) and filled us in about 30 seconds from what looked like a high pressure fire hose. "Aye, it's reet grand pressure is that" said he, as he fought to control the writhing hose.

Brrrrrr  again!

Setting up on the "hardstanding pitch" (two rows of old paving slabs) we turned on the heating and had lunch, followed by a quick couple of pints in the Cock of the North. Its quite nice having a pub in one's garden. Trouble was it was chuffing freezng in the pub so we tootled back to the bus to thaw out and then headed into Hipperholme to get some groceries. Later, Jane, Tavis and William turned up to take us out for a curry in Bradford. It's really nice to see these dear old friends again and to sample the delights of what must be the best curry to be had anywhere in the UK. Delicious (but I bet both we and the bus stank the following day).


After yet another fantastic night's sleep (despite it being -50c outside) I awoke relatively late, wrote this and then headed into t'town to get t'paper. Why is it that I sleep better in a small, enclosed, funny shaped bed in a rocking tin box than I do in a mega king size hyper expensive bed at home? I am obviously half-hamster.

 However........the waste and fresh emptying taps had frozen overnight and the water in the fresh feed pipe somewhere between the floors of the bus had obviously suffered from the effects of this thick, freezing Yorkshire water and the pump was reluctant to let water through. The thought of going to a party sans douche was too terrible to contemplate, so we did think about donning the dressing gowns, slippers and shower caps and walking along the road to bang on Sarah and George's house to beg use of their facilities. Luckily, as I was discussing the issues of thick water with the chap next door (his had frozen too), Tom managed to overcome the combined attempts by the Yorkshire Water Board and the elements here in the Arctic circle and starting pumping water again. We didn't have to go to the ball reeking of Chicken Hyderabadi and bacon rolls!

In a snub to the attempts by all things York-ese to nadger our morning, we breakfasted on some lovely Lancashire muffins filled with fine Somerset bacon.

A quick read of the Sunday Times (yet another great win by our brave Harlequins boys over Gloucester in the Heineken cup), we changed and took a long walk (about 30m) to the pub for a swifty before George came to collect us to go to the party. The beer, again, was delicious, but why do they insist on having half a yard of bath suds floating on top?

The party to celebrate Peach and Denis' 50th wedding anniversary was superb. Jane and Sarah had done an excellent job in organising the Champagne Tea (complete with the Yorkshire Police Brass Band) and the afternoon flew by. It was great seeing all the characters we have been meeting over the many years we have been coming Oop North and, once again, we were made to feel part of the family. I still do not know the difference between a snicket and a gunnel though.

Monday saw Debs work from home in the bus whilst I walked along the road to visit Denis. We then headed back down south and, with more lessons learnt on how to deal with sub-zero temperatures, we packed away ready for the next trip.

The campsite? Brilliant! No facilities, but next to one of our favourite pubs and very close to the homes of the finest family that one could ever wish to have as friends.

Christmas 2011

Christmas morning. Up and about early, opened the presents, scrambled egg and smoked salmon for breakfast, admired the lack of Christmas tree and decorations that we couldn't be bothered to put up, loaded the bus with booze and headed West along the A14 towards Shropshire. Once past Birmingham and off the motorways the countryside becomes very attractive and, on a bright sunny morning, the high position on the road gave us great views. Much better sitting in a large leather armchair watching stunning scenery than having to put up with Noel's Christmas morning and all that cack on the telly!

A couple of hours later we arrived on top of Clee Hill and parked up ready for lunch. Oven was fired up, table laid, crackers pulled and the view admired before tucking into a mega Christmas dinner with all the trimmings! The wind picked up and rocked the bus a bit, but we were well fed , warm and cosy inside watching the mad fools walking their dogs across the hilltop.

Reluctantly we packed away and drove down the hill for a couple of miles to set up camp in Jenny's garden, joining the rest of the family for the remainder of Christmas day.

Boxing Day was a leisurely start, poodling off to Chertsey via Banbury. Arriving back at Chertsey avoiding all the delays on the motorways (thanks TomTom live), we set ip very quickly, testing the new levelling ramps and the screen covers, both of which are very effective. Just need to get a TV that will work from a bracket then we are set for the big exped in the summer to France!

Dinner  delivers itself at Chertsey

"Working at home"

Silver Screens folded down for daytime use

On the 27th we had a lazy breakfast and then caught the train to Twickenham for the big game. We aimed for the Webb Ellis as usual and bought a couple of pints, but the thieving barstewards charged us "Rugby prices" at over £3.70 a pint! They will be getting a strong note. Sticking two fingers up at the Webb Ellis, we sauntered around to the Barmy Arms, which had a much better atmnosphere and, in the warm weather, stood outside next to the river and enjoyed a couple of pints.

The less said about the big game the better. Twickenham was the usual dump, the Referee was a crook and we lost. Hurrumph. To cap it all, South West we-couldn't-run-a-piss-up-in-a-brewery Trains suffered all sorts of problems and it took us hours to get back to Chertsey. They'll be getting a strong note as well. Tossers!

The following day we decided to stay another night to see if was feasible for Debs to work "at home". I went for a long walk, got some shopping and she sat there tapping away all day. Yes - it worked.

Finally, on Thursday we headed for home.