Thame, Oxfordshire, England

Upton upon Severn is a pretty town. Black and white houses and historical buildings add to its charm. The River Severn, Great Britain's longest river silently flows by, willow and alder trees lining its banks. This morning Marge all packed up, Angela once again walked around the pretty riverside town whilst John visited the VW T3 Bus Meet where he hoped to view and collect information on the vehicles.

Marge's days might be numbered it seems. The two nights we've spent here near the Malvern hills has proved that a full blown adventure covering many weeks may be great, but a micro adventure can be fun also. We enjoyed returning to this area, forgetting how charming it was.

For now, time to return home and  carry out all the tasks and attend all the appointments we allocate to the month of August. Roll on September, when we will embark on another trip. Who will accompany us? Will it be Marge, Margery or someone new?

The Swan Inn, Worcester Rd, Newland, Worcestershire, England

We'd like to give a big shout out to The Swan Inn at Newland. What a fantastic pub with a great overnight parking area. And tonight we are spending a second night here.

After a walk around Upton upon Severn this morning John realised the VW show he has come to see won't really be worth visiting until tomorrow, so we decided to stay in the area. Different neighbours tonight. Older folk to our left both with Romahome campers. The second larger van arrived in a flurry of chaos. A couple, just friends, he, driving the van, her in a car. Sleeping arrangements seem to be both in the van. Instructed by a member of staff where to park, it took him around ten minutes of maneuvering before the van was parked askew. The elderly lady, glass of beer in hand offered ignored instructions, right a bit, left a bit, which were totally ignored. After the handbrake was secured the man lept from the vehicle, grabbed the woman's beer and took a long draught, presumably to calm his nerves. Angela loves these folks, classic blog material. Next to them a mother and daughter with a toilet tent erected behind. A first in a pub parking area. The very nice toilets in the pub are available during opening hours, after that it's down to van owners to provide their own facilities. However cramped our facilities, we mustn't be tempted to sneak in the toilet tent after dark.

At the pub this weekend there is a beer festival with live music which has been very pleasant to listen to. During the interval the only sound we can hear is that of the willow on the wood from the adjacent cricket club. Honestly we can't recommend this pub stop enough. As for the weather it's been beautiful during the day, but last night a cold 9c, forecast again tonight. The Romahome owners might need to curtail the urge!

The Swan Inn, Worcester Rd, Newland, Worcestershire, England

It's been nine days since we returned home from our Moroccan road trip. The wanderlust in us decided that was long enough. Time for a few days away. Since returning home we've found it hard to settle. After nine weeks squeezed into Marge we've found it hard to adjust to living in our house. So here we are at a very nice pub, The Swan, just outside of Malvern.

At the rear a very nice area for the vans to park overnight, and all for as little as a the price of a couple of drinks and a bag of nuts. What's not to like? Why Malvern? Well this weekend the VW T3 Bus Meet is on just down the road at Upton upon Severn. John is thinking he might like one of these vehicles, fot the next trip to Africa. 

Don't tell Marge. Angela, whose warmed to Marge these last few weeks thinks she should stay, be given the TLC she deserves and taken on more adventures. Whilst the weather is fine we want to be able to go away as much as possible, and as tonight's stop shows, you don't have to travel far. At the park up tonight many like minded travellers around our age embracing the moment. Sounds good to us!

Some street art in Upton on Severn

Thame, Oxfordshire, England

Oh what a night! Angela was suffering from indigestion after eating fish and chips on the car ferry which disturbed her sleep until the nocturnal leg cramps started. As day broke she closed her eyes in submission to her tiredness only to be awoken by John saying something about a six thirty alarm. Surely it wasn't time to rise! The check in desks for the ferry open at that time, and it's best to be up, sorted out and away by 7.15pm before someone charges you the fifteen pound fee to park at the port overnight. A fee we dispute, because we had just paid two hundred and twenty seven pounds for a return ferry ticket. Feeling groggy she packed up a few items then walked down to the nearby public toilet wondering why the alarm on her phone hadn't gone off. Glancing at her watch in the half light she thought the time was five forty. She asked John what time it was. His reply, an hour later. We were now back on BST, John it seemed wasn't! So before seven we were headed for breakfast at the nearby McDonald's before leaving Poole, stopping again for refreshments on the A34 before returning home to Thame, where we arrived home around midday.

Seeing our home after sixty three days away we were shocked! The grass, brown and long. Cobwebs inside and out. Roses rambling, and the neighbours shrubs making an escape over the fence and along the tops of our wheelie bins. And Margery, poor Margery dirty and dusty looking very sad. The sight was too much. So before unpacking, weeds were pulled and the lawnmower was run across the dry cracked soiled that supported the gangly weeds and dried grass. What must the neighbours think? So here we are back home.

 After a walk out with the family, and take away food, we thought it time to tot up the cost of our latest adventure. Firstly mileage. Marge had carried us safely and reliably for 5,358 miles. Her fuel had cost us £1,293.00. Our overnight stops, sixty two in total, £495.96. That equates to an average cost of £8.00 a night. Over the last nine weeks Marge has carried us along the open roads, through scenic backdrops and jaw dropping scenery, towering mountains and striking coastlines. It's been a blast Marg. Let's do it all again soon!

Poole, Dorset, England

There's something about an early morning walk along a beach. Not intending to rise early, especially after watching most of last night's world cup football final, Angela took a stroll out. Boats sat drunkenly on the flat sands, washed smooth as the tide slipped far offshore. The only sound was the flapping of flags in the garden of a nearby property. It was idyllic. Our last day in France, and Angela wanted to savour every moment of it. So we packed up quickly and drove a few miles to the supermarket to buy a few provisions and of course wine.

We probably won't be coming to France again this year, thanks to Brexit, so wine for Christmas was on our shopping list. We are going to really miss French supermarkets, they never fail to deliver or entertain.

And of course our next stop had to be the pretty fishing village of Barfleur. We've visited here many times, and are always very happy to stop for coffee and walk around. This time we parked Marge on the far side of the harbour, where most of the visitors don't venture, and ate lunch at a picnic bench by the water feeling very French, especially as some men  nearby were playing boules.

Except for breakfast on our very first morning, all our meals have been prepared, cooked and eaten outside. Sadly, in no time at all it was time for Marge to take us on our final drive down to the ferry port at Cherbourg with Angela feeling beyond sad. Sad because this trip was almost over, sad because she was leaving her beloved France, and sad because this would probably be the last time we sailed on the Brittany Ferries ship Barfleur on the Cherbourg to Poole crossing. 

The ship is being sold, and the sailing will cease as it's no longer economical. Angela remembers sailing on the Barfleur when it came into service, she can't remember how many times we've sailed on her over the years. When we lived in Poole it was convenient for us whether we were cycling or driving. It is still convenient for us now, as we can easily visit our rental houses when we are en route to France. None of us like change, and the sailing ending is the end of an era Angela is very unhappy about. She knows change is good, and that we'll adapt to sailing from Portsmouth, or other ports, discovering new overnight stops. Crossing Poole to Cherbourg she likens to wearing a pair of old slippers. It feels comfortable. As the coastline of France disappeared into the horizon, with Angela squinting her eyes trying not to lose sight, a chapter is closing, and a new one is beginning. A little like our trip. As this one comes to an end, another one awaits. The Barfleur may not be part of it, but at least we will always have the memories of sailing on her. For the record today's temperature in France has been a chilly 19c. How have we gone from 43c down to this? Did we really complain about those hot debilitating days in Morocco, Spain and France?