Clifton Hampden (Day 2)

Happy Birthday John, 65 years old and retired at last. No more stress or worries.....Marge why have you sprung a leak yet again!

Welcome to retirement John.

This morning we took another walk alongside the river, stopping on the way back to walk around the outside of St Michael's and All Angels church, view the pretty sixteenth century cottages with their clambering roses, and most importantly, buy a coffee cake and candles from the village shop.

Back at Marge a bevy of swans drifted by on the gentle current, nonchalantly pecking at the river weed as they passed by. The plan for this afternoon was to launch our pack raft, but the wind was persistent, and we considered it a little too strong, so aborted the idea. We watched as a young couple tried to erect their tent, the wind billowing out the denim blue nylon, as it tried to release itself from their clutches. Been there done that, we thought. The sun shone, despite a bruised sky, and the pear tree alongside Marge shed its fruit in the wind, a welcome treat for the swarming wasps who descended upon the blushed yellow fruit with greed. In the nearby willow, a pair of goldfinches practiced their high wire act on the top branches. What a spectacular view they must have had of the river.

Nearby to us is a small van with a toilet tent erected alongside. In the late afternoon sunshine it lost its privacy. Does anyone remember shadow puppets?

Time to head to the Barley Mow pub for John's birthday meal, where we both enjoyed mains of pie and mash, a welcome change from the pasta, stir fry and the curry meals of home.

Tomorrow we return home, to another hectic week or two, but don't worry Marge, we've missed you, and are already planning our next trip away, but only if this leaking nonsense stops!

Clifton Hampden

Marge is on the road again! She's taken a 45 minute drive down to the river Thames to Clifton Hampden near Abingdon.

Tomorrow is John's 65th birthday, and, Marge seemed the right person to spend it with, along with Angela of course. The campsite we are staying on is right beside the river, next door to the Barley Mow public house, said to be one of Britain's oldest pubs at around 650 years old. This quaint medieval inn, was mentioned in Jerome K. Jeromes book, Three men in a Boat. From Marge, we can see the elegant arches of the 19th century bridge that spans the river.

Late this afternoon, with Marge settled, we set off for a walk along the Thames path. The charcoal clouds were now less threatening, moved along by a keen wind, which rushed through the arches of the bridge and rippled the reeds. Activity on the river was un-seasonally quiet, with boats swaying on their moorings, awaiting the return of their owners.

Our walk took us to Clifton Lock where we sat for a while, impressed by the crew of a large hire boat, who managed to enter the lock without the usual ricochet of the lock wall. Almost perfect, just one small piece of advice from John for them, 'always put the stern rope around the bollard first, it acts as a brake and avoids the front of the boat swinging across the lock'.

Early evening, time for a cheeky glass of wine, whilst watching the weeping willows dance in the breeze. A raft of ducks raced across the grass to nowhere, whilst the pure white doves unperturbed by their frantic activity pecked the ground amongst them.

Nearby a family of Swans huddled comfortably together and shafts of sunlight shattered through the clouds, and the long, awaited sunlight bathed the lush grass around us. Beautiful, tranquil and unbelievable that we should once again be able to enjoy time in Marge.

And to end the day, a glorious sunset, the sky alight behind the lush green trees on the far riverbank.