Chester

As the town of Church Stretton awoke this morning, the surrounding mountains reminded us of the Rhone Alpes region in France. On top of one of the nearby mountains, a lone tooth of rock stood in the early morning light.

After breakfast we took a walk to Carding Mill Valley, a return walk that should have taken an hour. 2 hours 45 minutes later we returned. Once we reached the valley we decided to walk to the waterfall, upon reaching it, we climbed a steep precarious rocky incline. So precarious, a descent did not seem safe. According to the National Trust member of staff at the entrance to Carding Mill, this was the 'easy route'! A lack of signage meant we walked up onto the heathland without a clue of how to return back to Marge. Four other women, as ill equipped as ourselves had no idea either of the return path. The only thing we all agreed on, was that they probably wouldn't send out a rescue helicopter for less than six clueless people.

We did remember to bring sustenance though, a delicious scotch egg from the local butchers and flapjack from the bakers. Sorry other lost walkers, they're not for sharing.

After much walking through a carpet of bracken, and following of others who looked like they knew the way, but turned out not to, we asked a couple of professional walkers, equipped with all the right gear, for directions. Result, we were now on the right road, enjoying the beautiful scenery of England's green and pleasant landscape. For anyone interested, by the time we were reunited with Marge, we had walked about 13,000 steps.

Our overnight stop tonight is Chester, adjacent to the river Dee, Chester racecourse, (first racecourse in England), and the Covid Test Centre! There are many other vans, it's almost like being on a French aire. After dinner, we left Marge in the company of the other vans and walked alongside the river, marvelling at the Georgian riverside properties.

At the Queens Park suspension bridge, built in 1923, we turned back on ourselves and walked into the historic city. Chester has extensive Roman walls made from local red sandstone, a two-level arcade and Tudor style half-timbered buildings, all well worth a visit if you find yourself in the area.

Today has been a long day, but so far, we have achieved what we wanted to from our trip, to spend more time exploring and less time travelling.

Church Stretton

You can't keep a good woman down, so Marge is on the road again, this time heading north. We should by now be en-route to the warmer climate of Spain, but for obvious reasons we are not, so we decided to head somewhere a little cooler. Watch out Scotland, Marge is on her way!

Tonight however, it's less of the continent and more of the cooperative. Yes, we are spending the night in a designated motorhome space behind the Co op in Church Stretton, Shropshire.

The town is set in the shadow of the lush green rolling Shropshire hills, with fields ploughed in neat stripes on the lower levels, like strips of hessian, and miniature white specks of grazing sheep high on the peaks.

This afternoon we took a walk around the town to look at the many independent shops, buying insect repellent from the chemist, ready for the hungry midges of Scotland, who are on the lookout for a tasty human until the end of September.

To mark the first day of our holiday, John bought a couple of tin mugs from a quirky toy/gift shop, their slogans summing up what may lie ahead.

As the sun slipped over the top of the mountain, we enjoyed our first of many meals in Marge whilst planning a rough route onwards in a northerly direction. We may not be on the continent, but are looking forward to seeing some wonderful sights in our own country, which of course we will share with you. Tomorrow we will drive to Chester.

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.