Eamont Bridge

After a fairly peaceful night at Chester, we set off this morning to visit John's daughter Dawn and her family, who live about half an hour's drive away. Dawn received a present of jewellery from John's late mother on what would have been her 96th birthday. We also descended upon them with gifts of empty water containers looking for a free refill. Before we left, we introduced them to our chemical toilet, also in need of refreshing!

Luckily Dawn welcomed the pooper into her home with open arms, and we left all set for another couple of days.

Descending into the Mersey Tunnel we were soon on our way. Our destination was Kendal cricket club, but when we arrived there was a match on. Sorry Marge, 'no room at the inn', as they say.

Never mind, with some research on the park4night website, John found a pub near Penrith that was happy for vans to stay in their car park overnight, as long as you partook of a meal. Right Marge, head for those mountains. After miles of bowling along, Marge was introduced to a new terrain.

Stop groaning Marge, this is Shap fell, look upon it as a taster for our onward journey. Thank goodness we had not replenished our onboard water tank. We could almost hear Marge puffing. The scenery however was lovely, sheep speckled the mountainside, and drystone walls cut through the lush wallpaper of green.

So tonight, we are at Eamont Bridge, just outside Penrith, and Marge is happy alongside some fellow vans in the car park of the Crown Hotel.

Eamont Bridge is a small village, most of which appears to have been built in the 1700's, and looked a little French. The Crown Hotel, specialised in Thai Cuisine, cooked by the owner Mike's, (yes, we were on first name terms from the get go) Thai wife. The hotel, was less hotel and more pub, still set in the seventies, with salmon pink sanitary wear, red paper tablecloths and lots of anaglypta wallpaper. When we ordered the food, the Scottish waiter wanted the accompanying numbers to the meals to avoid a communication problem in the kitchen. It was like a Thai Fawlty Towers. but the welcome was friendly and the food was absolutely fantastic! We would definitely stay here again if we passed this way.

Our plan tomorrow is to cross the border into Scotland. Another day another adventure. But not too adventurous please Marge!

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!