La Ferriere - aux - Etangs

 Bonjour to everyone. Especially to our three-and-a-half-month-old grandson whose learning French at nursery. We need to have a conversation about frogs' legs with him!

Up with the lark this morning, we arrived at the ferry terminal in good time. At customs we decided all our answers would be no, unless they were yes. We felt a little guilty that we had four tinned plant-based meals on board. But despite check-in taking forever Marge was waved through. You've lost you appeal Marge, thank God.

After the stress of the last few days, filling in forms and stripping Marge of rations we found a comfy quiet area on the ferry and crashed out for a few hours. After two and a half years it seemed surreal to be travelling to France. Post Brexit we weren't expecting a very warm welcome. But hey ho. At Caen we slowly edged towards border control, a little nervous about the plant based tinned food. Would they be confiscated and us fined? No. No one asked, stopped or searched Marge, or any of the other vehicles around us. Perhaps the food police don't work Sundays. 

Not wanting to drive too far today we decided to stop at La Ferriere-aux-Etangs. The aire, a former campsite is situated alongside a fishing lake on the edge of the town. As expected, the French were not particularly friendly, despite our bonjours. Perhaps they'll warm to Marge over the next few days.

La Ferriere -aux-Etangs is just north of Mayenne, home of Dick and Angel Strawbridge. So tomorrow, not for the first time, some stalking. Angela is a massive fan, dragging John along to the theatre in Bournemouth to see their show in February. As a birthday treat for her, she'll be allowed a drive by, and perhaps a photograph.

Portsmouth

Should we, shouldn't we take Marge to Europe with 'Poo-Tin' threatening the west. Yes, you should, she would have said. So here we are overnighting at Port Solent, Portsmouth. Our ferry tomorrow departs for France at 8.15 am, but we have to check-in by 6.45 am.

New rules post Brexit and Covid19 have instigated a one-and-a-half-hour check in. Two days ago, Marge was loaded with lots of tasty food, most of which apparently is now not allowed to cross from England to France. Advice on-line. Wrap your sandwich in marijuana leaves and pack it in cocaine to avoid detection by the cheese and ham sniffer dogs. So, Marge, tomorrow morning could be interesting, prepared to be searched!

Monday is Angela's birthday. two years ago, she was sixty and due to covid this monumental birthday was not celebrated. Tonight, however all has been put to right. We enjoyed a lovely meal in an Italian restaurant the Sole Mio just across from Marge. Well worth the wait.

All being well we will be travelling for six weeks, hoping to reach Spain. This trip we will take our time, and be wary of the cost of fuel. Marge runs on the 'good stuff' at just under the shocking price of £1.90 per litre. From Caen we will head towards the Atlantic coast.

Fingers crossed for tomorrow, Marge. Are Thai green chicken cup a soup on or off the banned food list? We'll soon find out!

Poole

Despite the strong wind last night, Angela slept well. As usual we attracted the inconsiderate idiot. The engine on the van running for some time just before we went to bed. This morning the seagulls seemed excited, swooping and diving.

The sun briefly broke the grey cloud, a spotlight of rays clearly visible over the Isle of Wight picking out the detail. All in all, a pleasant last morning to our tip. Right Marge, take us home.

Eight weeks ago, we left home for Scotland. In that time the season changed. The scenery changed. Marge has consumed nearly eight hundred pounds worth of diesel and travelled three thousand miles. Our overnight costs have totalled less than two hundred pounds. We consider our trip has been good value. Now we are home it is hard to remember all the places we have visited so look forward to trawling through the hundreds of photographs we've taken. Marge has behaved all the time we've been away, but she does need a little bit of TLC, including a new exhaust. As for her leaking water tank, it turned out to be nothing too serious. 

Our Scottish guide books returned to the bookshelf we now have time to reflect. Marge has been our home for nearly two months. She has taken us to some beautiful and interesting places. We've met interesting people, climbed mountains, laughed, cried, rejoiced, been frustrated, frightened, challenged and educated. We are stronger and more confident for all these experiences. Travel certainly opens your heart, broadens your mind, fulfils your life and creates memories. 

What do you think Marge, shall we make some more memories soon?

Milford on Sea

 This morning we were all a little sad. This is it Marge, time to return home. We know, we don't want too either. Let's not then. What are you like Marge. Behave while we go into the Go Outdoors shop opposite to buy John some new walking boots. By eleven thirty we were on our way, Marge bowling happily along the A34, a road she and us have travelled many times. Stopping at the Sutton Scotney service area we discussed trying to fit in another trip before Christmas. Enough of that, you need to sort out your new house. Oh, Marge that can wait. Time to go.

Follow those soldiers driving the tank transporters. Where to? Milford-on-Sea, who wants to go home. Just one more night away, then back to Poole. 

Amazingly there is free overnight van parking right near the seafront at Milford, alongside the road to Keyhaven.

Marge meet Maureen, she's a nice little auto sleeper. Maureen meet Marge. Play nice you two while we take a walk.

Our feet slipped on the loose shifting shingle as we crunched along the path above the beach towards the Lighthouse restaurant where our brother-in-law held his sixtieth birthday a few years ago now. The temperature 18c. We of course were wrapped up in a warm coat with base layer leggings under our trousers.

We'd found summer. Where's the rain? The views across a sea of blue grey to the Isle of Wight was clear. We could easily see the chalk stacks of the needles and the red and white banded lighthouse standing proudly at the end of them.

At the last count there were seven other vans parked alongside Marge tonight. Not expecting to be away another night, a tin of curry was cracked open for dinner. It's going to be windy tonight. We know Marge around 25 mph, at least we're not high above the sea. Angela, Please make sure you're happy to be here buffeted by the strong wind. I don't want to be woken in the night to be moved to somewhere more sheltered. 

Early night tonight, Marge, we'll probably be home by tomorrow lunchtime. Why don't I believe that. I'm sure you'll want to stop off somewhere en-route. You know us too well Marge.

Oxford

Today was to be our last full day away, but before we could enjoy a last walk out there were things to attend to. Angela had a hair appointment, Marge had to be washed and her tyre pressures checked all before we could set off for Oxford. The day bright and warm with no need for a coat, we couldn't believe we'd spent the last few weeks in waterproof clothing. The autumn sunshine cast shadows through the trees clothed in a coat of many colours. It really was a beautiful day.

Where is this place? It's the Oxford campsite Marge. You've been here before. You saved the best to last then. Not really, we've stayed in some fabulous places, this site just suits us at this time. The Oxford camping and caravanning club site is situated close to the A34, our road for returning home to Poole.

It is also just across the road from the river Thames so we took a walk along the tow path, stopping near a gaggle of geese who soon gave up on us when they realised there was no food in the offering.

The moored narrowboats looked tired, damp and green from the overhanging trees. Some had given up all hope, slowly sinking below the water level. But there's something pleasant about walking out in the autumn. Fallen dry leaves beneath your feet. hedgerows naked except for vibrant red berries and the last apples out of reach for scrumping. When we lived in Buckinghamshire, we regularly walked by the river Thames and we were happy to have the opportunity to do so once again.

Back at the campsite Angela spoke to a lady who was returning from eight weeks in Scotland. The next week she would spend in Salisbury and then time in Devon before returning home to Cornwall. None of us wanted our trips to end. What do you think Marge, shall we go home for a few days then set off again?

Askett

Despite being very tired last night, we did not sleep well at Stratford. Last time we stayed here in September we were beginning our adventure. Now nearly over our minds were racing, full of what was awaiting us back at home. Despite our tiredness we were up early to purchase a parking ticket. A couple of vans slipped out, keen to avoid the charge.

The sky pink from the rising sun we breakfasted and tidied Marge keen to walk along the river into Stratford before we left. The parking area was busy from early on, including a visit from the lowland search and rescue team who appeared to be carrying out a training course. It's not like Baywatch when after two chest compressions the casualty jumps up and runs up the beach the instructor stated. If the events of last night had gone pear shaped, they might have been needed to retrieve marge from the alligator teeth. I do all my own stunts. We know Marge, but don't be tempted anytime soon. Then two fire engines arrived, blue lights flashing. Why, we were not sure. Leaving Marge to listen to the talk on CPR we walked along the path that ran past the holy trinity church, the bells peeling, calling a congregation to morning service.

In the town a Sunday market was on replacing the funfair that was in town when we arrived last night. The cabochon lighting bouncing of the half-timbered buildings.

Crossing to the other side of the river Avon we watched a rainbow of kayaks emerge from the lock, whilst others slid easily down the smooth falling water of the weir. 
O.K. Marge next stop Buckinghamshire. Relatives, Christmas, catching up, meal and wine. We'd been away so long we felt a little disconnected from real life. Tonight, Marge is tucked up in a quiet little village. The sounds of the sea, waterfalls, rivers, wind and rain a distant memory.