Watchet Harbour

Marge has been raring to get on the road after her move to Poole where one of the neighbours referred to her as a 'posh van'. Little do they know. It's two weeks since we moved into our new home, and we feel posh as well. If someone had said this time last year, not we'd be millionaires, but we'd own our first soft close toilet seat we would have laughed. Little things!

It was midday before we were ready to set off, stopping for lunch on route to Yeovil.

The layby beside the main road was noisy, but the view spectacular. that's one thing about Marge, she's a mobile room with a view.

Our destination for our first night the small Somerset coastal town of Watchet, where we'd read there were two allocated motorhome spaces. Charge for overnight parking £5.50. The ticket machine was un-cooperative refusing to accept any coins. As if on cue a parking attendant materialised saying parking was now free. Brilliant, more money for ice cream! As always, one was taken by a non-motorhome vehicle, a lorry waiting to collect a piece of machinery from a nearby building site. Angela noticed the telephone number on its cab door was an Aylesbury number, close to where we'd moved from. chatting to the driver it materialised he lived in Wendover, and his wife worked at the nearby Stoke Mandeville hospital. Small world. Of, course he was impressed by Marge, so much he called a work colleague to come over and take a look at her.

Eager to set off and explore, we took the nearby path to Helwell Bay, locally known as Fossil Beach. Not getting our bearings quite right, we ended up scrambling over dangerous sea defence rocks, down to a small beach with no fossils. Great. Scrambling back up, Angela bottom in the air clawing at the rocks, we decided we'd best google Fossil Beach discovering it was further along the coast, accessed via a nice path with steps down to the beach.

Finally at our destination we walked along the foreshore across the vast flat rocky area where Angela spotted three large fossils.

By the time we left the beach, the tide was advancing to claim them.

Tired from the last couple of months we opted for a fish and chip supper, fish (no batter) and mushy peas for John who is dieting. The evening sun was warm and we sat in a sheltered seating area on the small Esplanade to eat them. Then a further walk around the town and along the harbour wall, battered by the elements, the stonework like giant honeycomb.

No one has come to join Marge, but she's tucked in a corner near the war memorial and harbour, so we're hoping for a quiet night.

Saying that the seagulls flying above us have a different idea, what they are arguing about, who knows. Before we settle down to read our guide book we are amused by an elderly man walking a small dog nearby. 'Slow down he says' it's supposed to be a walk not a gallop'. Hear that Marge, let's take it nice and easy on this trip.

Longwick

Best night's sleep last night since we can't remember when. This morning we were awoken by the early leavers, but we didn't mind we were keen to breakfast so we could walk down to the river Thames before we left. Quite soon the site became busy with activity as many other people began to pack up to leave. But readers can you answer this question for us. why would you drive 150 metres to the facilities block to collect your bowl of washing up? There's nowt so strange as folk. These particular folks also had a pair of pink and yellow rubber gloves attached to either side of the front of their caravan, anyone know why?

Walking down to the river through fields of wild flowers and grasses thirsty with the heat and bees feasting on the abundance of pollen, we were reminded of our childhood when summer always seemed to be dry and hot, and many enjoyable hours were spent outside playing with our friends, climbing trees and building dens. When you knew what time to return home for lunch without having a watch to check the time. Oh, how we wish we could return to the halcyon days of our youth when life was simple.

We have stayed at the Oxford campsite a few times but never walked to the Thames.

On the river two boats of eights (octuple sculls) sliced through the green water sending ducks and geese paddling to safer waters. Walkers and bicycles competed for space on the towpath. John always one to check if the height of someone's bicycle saddle is correct spotted a man whose knees almost hit his chin as he pedalled, what he failed to miss was his shorts were too low as well. Come on man, sort yourself it's Sunday morning for goodness' sake. Bike racks, let's not go there!

At Iffley lock where we left the river, we could hear the birds fretting in the bushes, protective of their young, the swallows from the nests under the nearby road bridge played tag overhead.

Home now, the sun casting shadows across our newly mown lawn, we are ready to begin a new week. Just nineteen days to moving day. Panic!

Oxford

Today is our 22nd wedding anniversary. We know three's a crowd but we're going to let Marge celebrate with us. At the end of this month, we will be moving to Dorset. Since coming back from our trip to Cornwall we have spent many hours sorting, packing and scratching our heads over how much we can take with us as we are downsizing. Weary and confused, we decided before we left the area to visit a few of the places we frequent regularly. So, on this special day we decided a night at the Oxford campsite in Marge would recharge us.

This time two years ago we were in Italy, eating antipasti and octopus whilst enjoying a spectacular view from a cliff top restaurant on the Adriatic. But we're not complaining.

Arriving at lunchtime, Marge decided to play up, immobilising herself. Don't start throwing a sicky Marge, enough is enough. But after a while she fired up and we sited her under the trees at the rear of the site. The facilities are open, but Angela desperate, nipped into Marge's bathroom only to find herself caught in a state of undress as John opened the rear doors of the van. Hi everyone, the Hamptons have arrived!

The weather warm with a sky so blue it hurt our eyes we donned padded shorts and set off along a cycle route towards the city centre and the dreaming spires. It is the end of the schools May half term holiday and those families who weren't caught in traffic frustrated bored and overheating had all decided to descend on Oxford, we'd never seen it so busy. At Magdalen bridge in the shadow of the Magdalen Tower we lent over the stone structure built in 1790 to observe the antics of the punters.

The men full of bravado and armed with a quant pole coupled with women fuelled by prosecco provided us with a comical spectacle. Seeking somewhere cool to escape the heat of the afternoon we cycled through the university parks to a wooded area by the boat rollers at Mesopotamia where the upper and lower levels of the river Cherwell meet. We have canoed here a few times and recalled those happy days. Soon we would be creating new memories in a new home, both exciting and a little scary.

This evening not being able to source octopus in the local Tesco we celebrated with antipasti, olives, rib eye steaks strawberries and mint chocolates. And as a milky light crept across the evening sky, we looked forward to the journeys and adventures that lay before us.

Longwick

We survived the night! The wind picked up buffeting Marge, finding away inside her, through the open roof vent, its coolness brushing our faces. Angela prayed for the forecasted rain to start, as it would mask the sounds of the night in an unfamiliar area. Asleep long before the first drop, but awoken by its persistent drumming as it took hold. She has read a few times that nerves are excitement in disguise, she just wasn't feeling it that way. Despite her anxieties her night's sleep was short but not too disturbed.

Up early ready for the mechanics to start work on Marge first thing we pondered on how the day would pan out. After all our quotes of positivity we were not feeling it. We felt tested. Marge felt tested. Life is testing. Leaving Marge to be operated on, we walked to Greggs to find comfort in bacon baps and orange juice. Then not wanting to be away from Marge too long we headed back to the garage where we sat in the reception area for three and a half nail biting hours after which John was presented with an invoice that made him a little angry. Emotions and tempers were a little frayed, it had been around over 48 hours since this saga had begun, and the RAC were not coming out of it in a good light. Their diagnosis, meant a repair to Marge would take an hour or two. Turned out they'd misdiagnosed her, and repairs took 5 hours, and required a whole lot more parts. An email to customer services at the RAC is pending, we'd been badly advised and they'd really let us and Marge down this time. The good news, Marge test driven by the mechanic and Angela ran sweetly. She'd come through.

After a tentative journey home, she is now nestled between the greenhouse and flower border. We are all glad to be home.

Are you O.K. Marge. 'Yes, I've been for a drive'.

Winton, Bournemouth

Oh, what a beautiful morning, well as far as the weather was concerned. By eight thirty the RAC patrolman had arrived. After some discussion and diagnosis of Marge her auxiliary belt was removed, which seemed to ease her problem, at the same time meaning she could now not be driven anywhere. It was decided she would be recovered to a garage near Bournemouth and that we'd probably be on our way home this afternoon.

So, we sat outside the campsite reception and shop, by now the only people on the site and waited for the recovery vehicle. In fact, we waited for four hours.

At one o'clock a very large recovery truck appeared, the driver heavy handily loaded Marge on the back, tied her down and whisked her away. We felt bereft as she disappeared down the lane rocking and rolling. Don't worry Marge we will catch up with you soon, reassured by the driver that a taxi was en-route to collect us. Once again, we waited, and waited until two hours after Marge left the taxi arrived.

Finally, reunited with Marge the news was not good. The parts for her would not all arrive until Tuesday. What! Where would we stay?

Hotel stays at the moment are only for business. O.K. How would we get home if we left her.? We'd used our onward journey up to travel to the garage. And we couldn't return until Thursday as John has his second covid vaccination booked for Tuesday. Any suggestions anybody? A call to the RAC by the garage got things moving. Put Marge on another recovery vehicle and send her home! But what about us, we couldn't travel in the cab with the driver because of covid.

The garage staff seeing a few hundred pounds slipping away, suddenly announced parts would arrive at eight o' clock in the morning and we could sleep in Marge on the garage forecourt overnight. Mentally exhausted by the last eighteen hours, we unhappily had to go with it.

Early evening we ventured out up the main street, comforted by the fact that the police station was fairly near by. Please Marge, don't attract attention like you normally do. In search of comfort food 'Lots of Rice' took our fancy and turned out to be a great choice.

Chinese food that smelt and tasted like Chinese food used to.

We are a little sceptical about our overnight stop, it's the sort of place we would normally avoid. Angela just wants to return home now, but in her ear she can hear Marge say, 'toughen up girl'.

Earlier John said, if he wrote his memoirs he'd call the them 'Out for a Drive'. What do you think Marge?

Hopefully we'll survive the night, and bring you news of a full recovery for Marge tomorrow.

Ridge, nr: Wareham (Day 2).

When we set off on our travels twelve days ago Angela began reading Raynor Winn's book The Salt Path. She finished it yesterday evening. We have visited some of the places mentioned in the book, and found Raynor's book a good complement to our travels. The book is inspirational and reminds you that there are no guarantees in life, and that life's short. So, if you dream of doing something big in your life, then plan it and do it!

What we didn't plan was for Marge to start the day with a knocking sound coming from her engine. Oh no not more problems Marge. What's wrong with you now! Luckily, we were just down the road from Kombi Kampers in Wareham, so took her there for them to give her the once over.

We left her for a couple of hours whilst we walked in to the town and sat a while at the quayside watching a man working on his Cornish crabber which was tied up near to us. The boat took the attention of a lady sat further along. 'that's a nice boat'. Always a good opening line. 'I like wood'. Me too replied the man. Too much encouragement, the woman continued. It looks roomy, I'm only small, just over 5ft, I could fit in there'. We waited, but the man chose to ignore her continuing with rigging the boat. We could see how easy it was for salty sea-dogs to have a woman in every port, obviously 'that's a nice boat' doesn't cut it enough as the chat up line in Wareham.

On the way back to Marge we took a look inside the Anglo-Saxon Lady St. Mary church which houses a 12th century lead hexagonal font, the only one in existence. Also, five stone cut inscriptions that dated from the seventh century. The church was interesting, the second one we'd visited in the last three days. Perhaps we should have prayed for Marge whilst in them.

Back to Marge. The mechanics didn't know what was wrong with her, saying they'd have to strip her down. Enough of that talk. So, we tentatively drove her back to the camp site which was only two miles away to wait for assistance from the RAC. You must like a man in uniform Marge, that's twice in just over two weeks. We know this problem is not related to the last, we just hope Marge isn't at the age where, she will suddenly become problematic. We knew in our hearts that Marge would probably have to be recovered once again. But hey ho, nobody's died. Marge would be well again after no doubt a huge amount of money had been spent on her.

Whilst we waited a heron majestically flew above the canopies of the trees opposite, silent and graceful. The view across the fields from Marge, beautiful, peaceful, serene. We could think of worse places to be awaiting assistance, like the M3 motorway.

Just before seven, the RAC telephoned, after some discussion it was decided that as we were in a safe place and that they were busy we would be attended by one of their patrolmen between nine and eleven in the morning.

So, we broke out of Marge and once again took a walk down to the nearby boatyard, this evening transformed by the sun igniting a rainbow of fibre glass. The boats rested silently in a quiet breeze on a backwater hidden by the extensive grasslands. As we walked under the trees, the earth a jigsaw of parched earth, the air chilled.

In a wooden electricity pole, some starlings had built a nest in a hole made previously by a woodpecker. we waited and the tiny head of a new life popped out, retreating as soon as it sensed our presence. Soft white clouds broke the blue sky and a pair of swallows played tag overhead. We enjoyed the moment, the calm before the storm.

For now, we watched the sky turn marshmallow pink as the evening sun slipped across the nearby fields.

Ridge, nr: Wareham

We were awake early this morning woken by the glare of a promising sun. A big day today, our grandson Elliot would get to use his 'new bucket and spade'. Little did we know what weather lay ahead. At around ten thirty on the way into Poole the hopes of a fine day faded. The forecast was for a day of sunshine and cloud and no rain until 4 pm. Someone got that wrong. The sky darkened and the rain fell, but we clung on to hope every time we saw a flash of blue sky.

By the time we met up with the family we were resorting to prayer. Luckily a break in the weather meant we could walk along the beach up to Poole quay where we were able to sit and have coffee. The quay was alive with other hopeful people, some even embarking on the boat trip to Brownsea island. But all the time the rain threatened, with angry clouds gathering at all angles.

Sandwiches bought, we all crammed into Marge (with windows slightly opened) to eat and hope.

Next stop was the beach at Rockley Park, ready for Elliots big moment. As we approached it began to, yes snow! After sitting in our respective vehicles, a window of opportunity arose and the bucket and spade made its debut.

Children are so resilient, our grandson happily played on the wet sand revelling in the moment. Then in true British style, when the next wave of rain, or should we say hail fell, we all piled in to Marge for an ice cream.

The weather continued to test us until in the end another heavy hail shower ended the day for us all. It had not turned out to be the day we'd planned, but little Elliot seemed to enjoy himself.

Earlier than expected John and I headed to the campsite at Ridge. At 5.30 pm the sun cracked the clouds and a strip of blue split the grey clouds giving an improving picture to a bleak campsite with just four of us staying. If it was solitude you were looking for, this was the place. Fortunately, we've stayed here before many times and know how nice it can be.

BBQ grill on and sausages on the griddle we couldn't believe the change in the weather. Sometimes life's not fair.

We took an evening walk down to the nearby boatyard, eerily quiet as we walked through a graveyard of vessels. The sunlight softening in an evening glow lit the reeds standing tall on the flood plain and along the riverbank. Despite the hint of a chill, we allowed our bodies to accept the little warmth the sun offered.

Now back in Marge, we watch a washed-out sunset through the trees. Tomorrow, we will return home, but are already planning Marge's next trip in a week or two...weather permitting!