# WORLD TOUR of ENGLAND 2003



## ingram

I wrote this back then and some of you may have seen it in other places; but for those of you who haven't: 'yer 'tis:------

PART 1

Back in the summer, you know, when it was really, really hot and some were away in their 'vans' melting like Mars Bars in the oven but having a good time, we were at home. Wanting to go away, but thinking it just too hot to be in a tin box we decided to wait until the weather cooled; sensible we thought and anyway my cousin had popped over from New Zealand and being the one who lent us his Camper when we were over there and got us 'into' it we wanted him to see what he had made us do.

Well the weather did cool off some, and we had to decide whether to 'Go Now' or wait 'till after the bank holiday so we could have a week before Angela had to return to school / work. We are not into planning so we decided to 'Go Now' and risk failing to find vacancies on camp sites over the Bank Holiday weekend if we were not home by then. As it happened we had no trouble at all. All we needed to decide was 'where to'. Well, I had already planned to visit the British Lawnmower Museum in Southport one day so we decided to go there.
Being in Hampshire that is quite a distance to go so I had a scratch around to find a few 'Things to do and Places to see On The Way'. So, now I have an A4 sheet of paper upon which is a copy of a map of Britain from my road atlas of same. There are now 18 red dots on the map and these are what we are going to see. We---ll we'll see some of them............
Now we have to decide which way to go; a quick decision made; the nearest dot is the Milton Keynes Museum of Industrial Life, so we'll go there. The Renault Master is ready and loaded, watered, oiled and fed and it's Sunday morning and sunny and while I'm driving along Angela is with map, plotting a route; I mentioned we don't go in for planning ahead too much didn't I? We don't have any of this fangled dangled 'Navigator Stuff' either, just an out of date AA Road Atlas and a London A to Z from 1970 in case we should take a wrong turn and end up there. The Renault Master is rather slow and noisy and I prefer to keep off motorways with it because it doesn't cruise as fast as lorries do and it gets in their way and, well, it's so boring too. I sometimes refer to the Renault as the RM which is funny because I used to drive Routemaster Buses which are also known as RM's except for the long ones which are RML's: I bet you are glad to have read this far to have found *that* out.
So we are at Milton Keynes and what a super afternoon we had; a really interesting museum with people who take the trouble to escort you around some parts of it and chat about the exhibits and the sun shone. They have a working telephone exchange which can be 'played' with and as Angela was a telephone switchboard operator in an earlier life and I was a telephone engineer ( trainee failed ) once upon a time, you can guess that we were getting into a bit of right Nos-Strauger in there.

Tomorrow we visit the Foxton Locks on the canal so head oop north a bit to Kettering and find a nice little CL / CS with a toilet but no paper.


PART 2

So we wake up near Kettering and before we go I want to visit 'Wicksteed Park' because Wicksteeds used to make all those cast iron childrens playground slides and roundabouts and things and as a nipper I visited an aunt in Kettering a couple of times and we walked to Wicksteed park to use the playground there.

So we drove in to the entrance and saw a sign saying £5 to park!! Blxxxy Norah!! We drove around the 'manwhotakesthemoney' ( orratherhedoesnt ) and drove out again as did the two cars ahead of us. We need to do food shopping before we hit the road so follow signs to 'superstores' up into the town and there's a Lidl but miss the turning. Ah look a Morrisons, we've heard of them 'cos they wanted to buy Safeway and hear they're good: quick right turn and into their entrance drive heading for the carpark.........ahhh wots this? Pay to park?? well maybe you get the fee back at the till after shopping.........aaaaahhhhhh wots this ???? a notice says 'No vehicles over 1 1/2 tons' What??...worse still the notice is written on a height barrier!!!! It's definitely higher than the usual six foot six but I don't think the van'll go under. Don't I know how high my van is you ask? Yes I do *but there is no sign on the barrier saying how high the barrier is*. Big queue of traffic behind now and it stays there while I manage a 5 point turn thank goodness we're only 18 feet long: it's really out of character for me but I confess to giving Morrissons a 2 foot V sign as we departed. Ah! Sainsbury's but you have to pay there too; a stupidly narrow twisty entrance way and no visible parking spaces big enough for us, so another quick V sign and off into the country. (and an extra V sign for Kettering in general )

Foxton Locks....a nice 'country' car park for *only* a pound, ( my first ever job, I was paid a pound a day ) , a fifteen minute walk over the canal bridge and along the towpath..........wow.......ten locks in a row and you can'y see the bottom one from the top and it is *hot*. There is a 'passing pool' halfway down and lockkeepers are controlling who goes when. The boaters have to do their own winding, pushing and shoving though.
The best way to arrive at Foxton Locks is on foot. If you arrive by narrowboat you have about an hour of hard graft winding and pulling and pushing and sweating if it's hot, or dripping if it's raining. Each to their own I guess; I do like boats and water though. We bought a flowery painted plastic pot as a present for ma-inlaw and an ice cream.
Returned to car park for a salad lunch but the peace and tranquility was somewhat ruined by one of those 'Whippy' ice cream vans with it's horribly noisy diesel engine throbbing away. Do you know people actually eat that stuff? I ran one of those 'whippy' vans for a time many moons ago: about the most unhygenic thing in catering; far far worse than one of those 'kebab burners'.
You should ( or rather you shouldn't ) see some of the tricks the blokes would get up to to get more air ( more air, less ice cream + more profit ) into the mix. At the end of the day one was supposed to empty the tank of remaining contents and throw it away and strip and clean the Carpiagani 'works'. Do what?? I always emptied the tank and put it in the fridge but when some blokes finished work at 8 or 9 pm on a hot summer day they just wanted to get to t'pub for a few pints of Gwuince.........turn the machine off and let it melt back to liquid and warm through nicely 'till tomorrows re-freeze.................and some of you lot getting jittery about your tank water............

I soon moved on to a 'Hard' van and became known as Mr Rossi.

We're on the road in the trusty RM again heading for Northwich in Cheshire and the 'Anderton Lift' ; another canal, another feat of engineering........this is quite a long way and having only vaguely planned a route Angela is in control of the map again. We are heading for the Peak District but don't know how far we'll get today; motorway avoidance being a priority and plenty of stops for a cupoftheoldrosy whenever the fancy takes us.
We actually get to camp in a Club site near Bakewell.........


PART 3

We have had a very pleasant drive today and we have arrived in the peak district and chosen to find a Club site in a village called Youlgreave. It is stone buildings and narrow streets and lots of cars parked. Turn off at the church and it's even narrower: just manage to squeeze between a carelesly parked van and someone's house and we are soon out twixt the fields again and at the site. Yes, they have room, electricity and no toilets, but then we knew that. We get the 'old fogeys discount' here too so we pay less than we do tomorrow in a CL. We find a pitch at the top of the site with super country view. A relaxing evening and early night.

We don't have a 'red dot' for round here but decide to visit Buxton, it being a few years since the last time. A pleasant few hours wandering around but it's turned a bit chilly and windy. No complaints about Buxton.......nice.

So it's off to Northwich for 'The Anderton Lift'. After finding a site, we drive off to have a look at the lift. It's closed, being evening now but we can get some good views of it and meet a bloke from Bootle: 'The Better End of Liverpool' he tells us. He has come down with a basket of pigeons of the 'homing' variety; he hopes. We spend some time watching them being freed.

One can have boat rides up and down the Anderton Lift but they only run twice per day so we decide to be content with 'just looking' and to go direct to our next red dot in the morning. This is just down the road and is The Lion Salt Works.

Being in this canal area and seeing narrowboats back at Foxton makes me think that our RM camper is a bit like one. It has a narrow galley area, the cooker, sink and cupboards on one side; the wardrobe and shower room on t'other. We have to squeeeze past each other, Angela and me. We have to go 'back to front'. If we go 'back to back' we get wedged: it's bottoms, you see. If we try 'front to front', well that just leads to other things and delays dinner.


Back to our 'quiet' CL/ for the night. It is quiet, we being the only people there, except for the farm machinery passing. This is not a farm but a 'machinery contractor' so all the stuff is coming back at the end of the day. I enjoy this sort of thing though, I like places where 'things are happening', we live opposite a farm where 'things happen'.

We are not on a major airport flight path at home though; like we are here!...............


PART 4

Before we leave 'The Anderton Lift' it occurs to me that some may not know 
what it is.

It takes barges and narrow boats between the River Weaver and the Trent and 
Mersey canal which is about 50ft higher than the Weaver. It is hydraulically 
operated, having been recently restored to that means from it's former 
electrical operation. It's original purpose was to enable the transfer of salt from the 
canal narrow boats to the barges on the Weaver.
Now that leads us nicely to our next red dot, the Lion Salt Works.

We rise early at our CL. Up at about 6.30 to make some tea and turn on the 
electric fan heater ( Trago Mills, about 8 squid ) before hopping back to bed 
for cosy tea drinking.
An al-fresco breakfast making use of the card table borrowed from pa-in-law. 
We do have to do something about getting our own table but more on that later.

We drive the short journey to the salt works, turn in through the gates and 
find two Romans being photographed. It's a publicity photo' shoot we are told. 
The Roman with the Nike trainers shows us the replica Roman shoes that have 
been made at great expense and he tries them on. They do look good; better than 
the Nikes.

We are shown around the museum area and have salt making explained to us and 
are shown a video on a television without a 'green gun' but the blues and 
mauves and reds add a little something, we feel.
Although I did go down a deep salt mine in Germany when I was a teenager I 
haven't given much thought to the production of salt since. One just sort of 
takes it for granted.
The salt here is obtained from underground water which has run through the 
rocksalt. We have a look at a huge derelict barn and the steam pump which is in 
need of some renovation.
The entry fee to the salt works is by donation and the suggested amount for 
this is not much. We give them more.

There is a huge amount of work ahead to restore this place, some work is 
already in progress or completed. Lottery funding has been applied for. We were 
talking to the owners / guardians about it which prompted me to mention the 
efforts we had made to save the Bus Museum in Portsmouth, at which I had been a 
working volunter for about 10 years. Well!! These people came from Portsmouth 
too and 'he' had been involved in the Mary Rose project which was just a stones 
throw from the bus museum.

So it's time to move on and our next red dot is what you have all been 
waiting for since about line 13 of part 1.
Just in case you have not been paying attention, it is 'The British Lawnmower 
Museum' in Southport.
Some main road work is needed to get us past Liverpool but we are soon 
heading for our destination on some less busy roads. As we near Southport we become 
aware that we may have *done it wrong*. It's 'The Southport Flower Show'. 
Are we going to be able to find somewhere to stay?........................
You will have to wait 'till part 5 to find out........a................cliff........................hanger.............................


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## ingram

PART 5

So, where were we? 
Yes, heading into Southport and discovering that the Flower Show was on. We had planned on trying the Club site near to the town centre and following the instructions found it easily.
Behind a long wall twixt road and parkland. Just one night? Yes!! Well, that's a relief. Actually, the flower show starts the next day.

This site is shaped like a frying pan: we in the handle end: typical CC site, very clean and neat but rather 'regimented'; great long row of appliance white caravans and campers, until we arrived that is. Our 'silver and black' stood out like a Pontefract Cake, we're glad we don't have an 'appliance white'.

Off to the British Lawnmower Museum; a pleasant 25 minute walk and past some lovely huge old houses mostly turned into flats now though, it seems.
The museum is actually in the top floor of a lawnmower and gardening shop on the corner of a Victorian terrace.
Quite amazing how many lawnmowers can be got in about five rooms. All laid out very nicely and well labelled exhibits; 'Ransomes Sims and Jeffries', ( I have three of those ) 'Greens', 'Atco', 'J-P', ( have one ), 'Qualcast' ( three ), 'Silens Messor', 'Allen' and many more and all for just a pound you know. They also have a lawn edge trimming device, of which I have one at home and was about to take it to the local dump. It is a totally useless piece of kit but if it is worthy of a place in the British Lawnmower Museum, perhaps I should keep it, especially as mine is better than theirs.

A walk back into town and we stop for a 'bag' of chips. They don't have any ready so the girl grabs about four huge potatoes and drops them into a huge bin which immediately and almost silently, spews out the chips; very impressive.

The girl threw them in the boiling fat and before we knew it we had bags of lovely crispy chips: the best ever.

Unfortunately the rest of Southport doesn't live up to either the Museum or the chip shop. It's the litter. I have never seen so much, ankle deep in it; it's not only the morons who put it there, it's the lack of cleaning too. Even the entrance steps to Safeways and the surrounding area were thick with it. It makes me so angry. Once upon a time people cleaned their shopfront areas.................

Next day we are off to..............well, where would someone who likes lawnmowers and chip machines, Renault Masters, Citroen 2CV's and Dyanes and playing with old buses be going from Southport?
>
<
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BLACKPOOL

A fairly short hop from Southport and the RM is still going well so far but my right leg has to be rested on the wheel arch for the loud pedal and that makes my knee ache; the clutch takes a lot of effort and the gearchange is similar to stiring almost set concrete. After several days of motoring, my limbs are suffering somewhat. A tram ride is what is needed and is what we get. Parking outside town we board a huge tram, one of the 'balloons' and sit upstairs at front. The 'upstairs conductor' takes our fare and we sit back and enjoy the view. We alight near the Tower because Angela wants to ride to the top. Blxxdy Norah!! it's 12 squid each. Still, we *are* on holiday, so............oh! what? due to extremely high winds the top floors of the tower are closed to the public! Well, that settles that then; we are not paying for only half the fun and anyway, if it's *that* windy maybe we don't *want* to be up there. It *is* that windy; we nearly get knocked down by it as we round the corner.

Back to a tram stop and we get another balloon back to the RM only this time we sit behind the driver. Crikey! there's not much room in a tram cab, cramped is not the word.

An aside:- Blackpool Transport used to run a fleet of Routemaster Buses ( RMs, but you knew that ). They had about twelve and when they decided to sell them in about 1996, the Reading Mainline company, for whom I was driving at the time, decided to buy all of them. I think that this decision may have been one of the factors that lead to their eventual demise. So when Reading Mainline ceased, after having been bought out by Reading Buses, some of these RM's were sold back to 'Transport for London' which of course is pretty well where they started back in 1958 onwards. End of 'aside'.

Our next red dot is not actually in England, but Scotland. It's the Glasgow Museum of Transport and it is free to get in. We made a major decision not to go there though, which is just as well, otherwise we would have to have thought of another name for this report.

So we head off horizontally, give or take a degree or two, across England to somewhere that you will have to wait for part 6 to find out about.

And here it is:-

PART 6

Having left the winds of Blackpool behind and heading for our next red dot, which is actually a white scar, it starts to rain. This is the first rain since leaving home. The weather has been excellent so far with just one overnight shower.
We are on motorway avoidance again, so navigate our way via some lesser A roads to Lancaster and then away towards, Ingleton for the White Scar Caves. This turns out to be, notwithstanding the excellent places visited so far, the 'highlight visit' of our trip, but more on that later.

It's pouring with rain now and we select a CL to try for. It's behind a farmhouse and we pull into the yard and knock on't door. No vacancies!! This is our first failure in nearly a week. We drive into Ingleton and find on-street parking but it's about a 1in 10 hill. The handbrake seems to hold so we go off to seek a phone box. You may have gathered that we are 'low tech. travellers' so we don't have a mobile 'phone.

We have decide to try for a pitch at a club site in Hawes but because of the distance we phone ahead. "Yes! but you *will* be here before six won't you?" Er, will we? How long will it take us from Ingleton? "You should be ok if you hurry!"
We had better do that then. A brisk walk back to the RM on it's 1 in 10 hill and..........................it's still there. Just teasing! 
The route to Hawes is via a narrow B road over the Yorkshire Dales; it's a bit of a climb and we are overtaken by a racing tipper lorry. Note:- if you see one you may see more, and we do. We are up high now and this is a hilly and windy road. We pass the White Scar Cave so know where to come tomorrow.
We are driving in cloud now it seems but trying to push on: it's well after five pm.
Suddenly I see what looks like several huge white shields ahead, peering through the mist; what on earth are *they*? I am totally disorientated now, I feel like I'm flying.

As we get nearer it becomes clear......it is the arches of the Ribblehead Viaduct: we could only see through the arches; we couldn't see the structure itself. We'll have a closer look tomorrow.

I'd really love to stop for the night up here and wake up in the morning to, I assume, a splendid view.

We press on to Hawes and arrive with minutes to spare before they close the office. It's here I think that the warden comments on our TV arial. You may as well throw that away, he says. Why, aren't they any good? or is it just bad reception here. Yes, that's it: you need a 50 ft arial up here it seems. Well, we don't, because ( see comment ref. no mobile 'phone ) we don't have a TV. If we wanted to sit and watch TV we could have stayed at home.

We have rather lost track of the days, but discover that it's the Friday of the bank holiday weekend. Well, we won't be going to the Citroen 2CV Club, International Camping Weekend in London now will we?

We have a walk into Hawes centre before dinner, it's not raining here. Nice town but of course, very 'touristy'. There are five 'pubs' in a row. I wonder if they are open all through the winter?

Next morning is bright and sunny again and we are up early, drive into the town to visit the ropemaker shop. This wasn't a red dot; we didn't know of it, but a very interesting visit. I'd never seen ropes being made and, rather like salt, had just taken them for granted. Some machines were working but they go so fast that it's difficult to see what is happening. A good examination of those stationary though, gave us a good idea.
We bought a washing line. It's for tying tree branches while sawing them off. A job that needs doing when we return home. 
A quick walk around the town again: the shops were closed last night. We see at least two shopkeepers sweeping their shopfronts and pavements. I *like* it here!

We head off over the Dales again and I was right about the views. I't lovely up here: we arrive at the Caves at 10.20. The next tour is 10.45.

But that will be part 7.

and this is it
PART 7

I have parked the RM in the steeply sloping car park. Having found that we 
have about 25 minutes to wait before the next tour, and that the tour is about 
80 minutes, I decide to move the van to a flatter place and light the gas for 
the fridge.

Will it light? Will it 'eck. Kneeling on the floor with my head stuck in the 
fridge trying to look through the spyhole and my right arm stretched up trying 
to hold the knob in with one finger while pressing the igniter button with 
the other.........don't you just hate doing that?

The 80-minute guided tour of White Scar Cave covers one mile, and includes 
one of the largest caverns in the country. Over 330 feet long, with its roof 
soaring in places to 100 feet, this is one of the largest caverns in Britain. It 
contains literally thousands of delicate stalactites, which hang from the roof 
in great clusters.

We pay our money. £6.50 each; it's worth every penny.
We are first in the queue for our hard hats; essential safety wear for the 
cave. Our guide is a pleasant lady who speaks very well and clearly. She starts 
off giving us a safety talk explaining that if anyone is seen to be in 
difficulty in any way, someone must shout her name to let her know.
Angela and I being in the front have the advantage to be able to talk to her 
as we walk along, between the stops for the guide's talks.

In the cave there is a river, waterfalls, stalagmites and 'tites and all 
sorts of interesting rock features, lots of stairs to climb in one place, and some 
viewing platforms . Part of the way is a man made tunnel to get to the caves 
proper, otherwise we would be crawling on our bellies in the river. They have 
built a steel walkway over the river in places too, so visitors can keep their 
feet dry.

The tunnel is not high enough for taller people to walk upright and we are 
warned about the need to take care. Angela is ok being only 5ft 2 but at nearly 
six foot it is a little difficult for me. Walking with your head bent down and 
wearing a peaked hard-had makes it very hard to see where you are going.
Having negotiated the tunnel successfully we receive further warnings about 
low 'roof' areas.............there are places so low that it is necesary to 
crouch walk something in the manner of a chimpanzee. This is very difficult and 
is wicked on the thighs: my limbs are already suffering from the driving, as 
mentioned and the strain on the neck, trying to see where you are going, is 
severe. Suddenly I have crumpled to my knees in agony. I have hit my head on the 
roof, hard, and the shock has jarred my neck and shoulder and knocked me down. 
It only takes moments to recover enough to continue but I'm sure feeling a 
bit zonked.

This hasn't spoiled the visit for me though. The rest of the tour is 
absolutely brilliant. We do of course have to do it all again on the way back.
We all swop places so Angela and I are at the back. We passed one other small 
group on our way in and now we meet others on our way out. These other groups 
are much much bigger than ours. I'm think it was a good thing to get there 
early.

Angela and I get separated from our group while trying to pass one of these 
others so we are on our own. The others are not far in front but everytime we 
turn a corner they have just disapeared around the next one.
Suddenly we hear footsteps aproaching fast behind us. It can't be one of our 
group, we are the last: it must be the Yorkshire Yeti, oh! heck!
It isn't the Yeti. It is a young lady who has been overcome by fear or some 
phobia about being so far underground and is making her escape: we let her past 
and she races ahead.

We have a quick look around the cave's gift shop and then head off to the 
Ribblehead Viaduct. There is a layby with a good view of it so we pull in for a 
brew up and rest.

A train appears; one of those 'goods' trains with tipper waggons, taking 
coals to Newcastle perhaps. I scrabble for the camera and just get it together in 
time to get a shot of the train on the viaduct. Excellent.

It sure is good up here. The sun has gone and it's quite windy, bracing, I'd 
say. I bet it's bleak in the winter though.

We stay up here for quite a while and discuss our next visit. We are faced 
with a choice of red dots now and have to decide which to go to as they are in 
different directions.

We do come to a decision eventually and you will hear about that in part 8.

But first:-

PART 7.5

This is part 7 and a half, because I reported arriving at the camp site in 
Hawes, and discovering it is Friday. Well it wasn't. It was Thursday and after 
our evening stroll around the town, we decided over dinner to try and stay 
another night.

On Friday morning sharp at 9am, the site office opening time, I was there 
enquiring for an extra nights stay. "No, sorry, we are fully booked." Damn, so we 
get packed up to head for the White Scar Caves, already covered in part 7 if 
you remember, and stop off at the office to say goodby.

"A very nice site" comments Angela to the warden, "shame we can't stay 
tonight." " Oh but you can; we have had cancellations." we are told. So we do, 
returning to place our 'pitch marker' before heading for the caves.

It is quite common apparently for people to book in advance and then cancel 
at the last minute ( and we are told, there are those who just don't turn up ). 
They can have a fully booked site one minute and then five vacant pitches the 
next. It can be a real nuisance for them and they are very pleased that there 
are people like us who just turn up on the off chance of a space. So, that is 
why we have been so lucky to find vacant pitches so easily, so far. It's not 
lucky, it's normal..................


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## ingram

PART 8

At the end of part 7 we were sitting up on the top, looking out over the 
Ribblehead Viaduct deciding what to do next.
Our next Red Dot is the Constable Burton Hall Gardens at Leyburn. This is one 
of Angela's choices, being keen on gardening and plants and we quite often 
visit such places. That will do for tomorrow though; for now we decide to have a 
drive about the local area.

We drive off under the viaduct, turn right, and we are on another 'B' road, 
still in the Yorkshire Dales, and have a very pleasant drive down to Settle. 
We need some shopping and find a privately owned 'Family' supermarket; 'Booths' 
by name. Very nice shop and there is someone at the checkout to help pack the 
bags. Wow! We *are* impressed. We haven't seen that since our visit to New 
Zealand where almost *every* supermarket have packers.

An aside:- When I was about 13 ( in 1958 ) I had a Saturday job in a 
supermarket. I was put on the checkout one day to pack, having been given no training. 
I put a customer's half pound of butter in a small paper bag and: well, you 
know how when you used to buy sweets and they were put in a paper bag, the 
shopkeeper 'spun' the bag round to twist the corners closed?; well, I did that 
with the butter. The half pound of butter burst through the bag's bottom and flew 
across the shop at great speed. I was taken off packing...... end of aside.

Back to Ingleton now: having only stopped there to telephone, the day before, 
we wanted to have a better look. Unable to find a parking space in town we 
went to the outskirts and walked back in. Quite a long way, but good exercise 
innit?

Another nice little town; very hilly and with a river. We found a bakers 
shop and treated ourselves to custard slices, walked down to the river where 
there were seats and tables and scoffed them. Opposite, on the far bank of the 
river, were some modern houses: nice place to live except we could sit there and 
see right into their gardens and rooms.

Just down the path a way we came across quite a surprise. A swimming pool. 
Not a pond or lake but a proper brick and tile, built, open air pool with 
lifeguards and changing rooms.
Quite something for such a small town.

Later that evening back at the campsite Angela made it quite clear that we 
should have had a Red Dot for Scarborough. We'll have to fit that in then.

As it happens the next morning is a bit misereable weather wise, and on our 
way to the Constable Burton Hall Gardens, it is raining.

We decide to give it a miss because of the weather, and go direct to 
Scarborough. We don't quite do that because for some forgotten reason we leave the 'A' 
road and divert to an unclassified road which is almost single track. We 
persevere for some distance thinking that this was a mistake but then the road 
widens out and we are in beautiful countryside and come upon a village with 
shops and a pub and now the sun is shining. We decide to stick with the 
Scarborough plan though and have an excellent, although somewhat exiting, drive to West 
Ayton.

On the way, there is a sign on the A 170 saying that no caravans are allowed 
and showing a diversion for them. This is because there is a steep hill ahead 
and it says it is 25%. I haven't really become used to these percentage signs 
for gradients and, being 'low tech' as you by now know well, I have to use my 
brain only, free of any help from electronics, to calculate that this is 1 in 
4.

By 'eck, crickey mummy; that's steep!

I foolishly tell Angela and she goes a shade of grey closely matching the 
RM's upper body panels, but without the latter's silver gleam.

As we start to climb, it becomes apparent that this is going to be.......... 
*slow*............we are down to second gear and about seven miles an hour when we reach 
the steep bit. It is a hairpin and a quick shift to first just before it, 
saves us from embarassment. The van virtually stops in the middle of the downshift 
but just creeps round the bend with only a momentary wheel spin from the 
nearside, and we stay in first for at least another half mile before I dare 
attempt a change.
I say 'saves *us* from embarrasment' but actually I think Angela has passed 
out. She has always been fearful of rolling back on a hill 
and.....well.....dying I suppose.

I am pleased to be able to report that this didn't happen and we arrived 
safely in Ayton. 

This is the Caravan Club site at west Ayton that I had read about some time 
ago in one of the motorcaravan magazines. I couldn't remember exactly what I 
had read but recalled that it was supposed to be a very popular and well liked 
site; so would we get in there?

We decided that we would book in straight away for two nights if we could and 
once again we met with sucess. This really is the bank holiday weekend now, 
being Saturday, so we were quite surprised but once again, it was because of 
cancellations.

We had a choice of several pitches but decided to forego a hardstanding to 
park on grass.

This was a large grassed area occupied by about 6 or 7 'tuggers' and we took the last remaining hook-up. Was this wise?............


PART 9

We are at the C.C. site at West Ayton pitched on the grass with a 
'shedful' of tuggers. It becomes apparent that these six or seven tuggers and 
families are 'together' in some way; a club, friends, relations or whatever. We 
have probably got the pitch that was reserved for someone who had to cancel.
They eat together, play together and drink together: their sleeping 
arrangements remain unknown to us but between them they did seem to have a large number of children. In fact there seemed to be a considerable number of children on the Ayton site generally.

The sloping layout at Ayton allows for a tarmacked roadway around the site to 
be used as a racetrack by children on bicycles, tricycles, skateboards, 
rollerblades and scooters. This sounds like a *bad thing* but it wasn't really. It 
could be quite entertaining. We always park the RM 'nose in' on our pitch. 
This is because, not having a side door, we use the rear doors for entry / exit 
and in the right places, the gateway to a view. At Ayton our view was the 
roadway which came down a fairly steep hill and curved away near the van. I was 
sitting there when a little girl, about four years old came hurtling down the 
hill on her tricycle and, seemingly, having not yet perfected the art of three 
wheel cornering, she came straight on, her front wheel hit the edge of the 
grass, the handlebars turned through a sudden 90 degrees, the nearside wheel 
lifted offroad and the girl was deposited flat on her face at my feet. " Hello" I 
said, " are you having a nice time?"

A little boy named Luke was often seen. Sometimes with a friend, on his own, 
or on one or two occasions with his rather weary, albeit, quite cheerful 
grandparents who had apparently been lumbered..........er, blessed with Luke's 
company for the weekend.

Actually he was a pleasant little lad but one of the worlds inquisitors. 
What, why, which, when, who, seemed to be high on the list of his favourite words.
Whatever one was doing, or not doing, those are the words that flowed from 
Luke's mouth. We saw quite a lot of Luke, as he had a scooter, and everytime he 
passed by on the 'racetrack' he would stop and ask us something. Whatever he 
asked, he was never satisfied with the answer until he had thoroughly used up 
all of his interrogation skills. On one occasion we were at the water point 
filling the van's water tank with a hose.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, hello Luke. We are filling up with water."
" Why?"
"Because we need the water for drinking and washing."
"Why?"
Etc. etc. ect............
After a while Luke went rather quiet and looking puzzled he said, " But won't 
it be all *wet* inside now?"

Anyway, this is Scarborough and we are here to see nothing specific, but 
Scarborough in general.

We have been here a few times before when the children were with us and we 
used to rent holiday cottages / houses for a week at a time . It was always a 
last minute thing, 'phoning around the week before we wanted to go to see what 
was available.

One year we stayed in a small cottage attached to a gift shop, almost on the 
beach at Scalby Mills.
The three kids who always moaned at us about not wanting to do what we wanted 
to do; and why can't they do this or why can't they do that were given a free 
reign one afternoon, with some money and told to go off for three hours and 
do whatever they liked.

They returned after half an hour saying they were bored and didn't know what 
to do and could they stay with us.................

Well, it's saturday afternoon and we have to do buy some food. We do have a streetplan map of Scarborough, but that is at home in a drawer. We head off 
south of Scarborough to find a supermarket that we think we remember the 
location of. We don't, but find some signs saying 'superstore' so follow those until 
we find.....oh no!...it's a Morrisons! Do we want to eat or not? Yes, so we 
go to Morrisons and jolly good it is too.

We are rather dissapointed with Scarborough. This is mostly not really 
Scarborough's fault.

Firstly, the roadway around the castle 'lump' which goes to the open air 
swimming pool with giant flumes that the kids used to love, has massive works in 
progress. The sea wall is being rebuilt with massive rocks being imported from 
Sweden or Iran or somewhere like that. The parking facilities on the roadside 
have been closed off, the cafe is closed down: no-one can stop there now and 
the whole area is a mess. The work needs to be done of course but this part of 
Scarborough is temporarily ruined.

The open top buses which regularly run right along the seafront are held up 
by the three sets of temporary traffic lights: it must be very, very, boring 
driving back and forth along here all day. Appleby's used to run some buses and 
they had an old Bristol Lodekka halfcab: I always tried to get a ride on 
that.....it's not here now, I think Appleby's went out of business a few years 
back.

We go to the carpark down at Scalby Mills where we rented that cottage and 
notice that the gift shop is now a pub or bar of some sort.

Walking along the seafront past the beach huts and heading back towards the 
swimming pool with flumes, we notice that the chairlift that takes people over 
the hill to the amusement park looks a bit odd. We realise that it is no longer 
in use, and rather derelict. Another dissapointment then.
We find out later that the amusement park has closed down as well, which 
explains the forlorn redundancy of the chairlift.

We have an early evening stroll through Peasholm park which seems, about, 
just as it used to be but we think it strange that the cafe and ice cream stall 
is closed when it is mid summer and it is only 6.15 pm; perhaps everyone is 
back at their hotel / guesthouse for dinner at this time of evening.

One thing about Scarborough we always rated, was the fish and chips. Daahn 
saahf you just can't get decent f & s.

We decide to stop at the Ayton chippy on the way back to site and eat in the 
van.

The fish is truly awful; a dried up nasty piece of cod just like at 
home.............

Sunday, we decide to go to south cliff and walk through the maze of paths, 
down through the shrubbery and formal gardens to have a look at the derelict sea 
swimming pool that has been there since about 1900 if not before, but closed 
in the 1970's I think, because of lack of use. It was always a sad, rather 
eerie, but interesting place to visit.

We were unable to park at south cliff. There is plenty of parking on street 
but it's all full, or the spaces are too small for the van. We keep going 
south until we are out of the controlled zone and park in a residential street 
just near where the hotel fell into the sea about ten years ago or so. This has 
some relevance to the next bit.

Walking a few yards down the street to one of the footpath entrances, we find 
it closed off with a notice explaining that due to some landslip some of the 
pathways are closed for safety reasons and that although the council intend to 
carry out repairs they have not yet been able to do so.

We do find a path entrance but discover that, while wending our way down the 
maze of paths, many of them have been blocked causing us to have to keep 
retracing our steps. We meet an elderly gentleman and his dog, picking blackberries and we join him for a while and have a chat. He tells us he used to swim in the derelict pool when he was young, though of course it wasn't derelict then.

We eventually find our way to the bottom only to find that the pool has been 
filled in; just with earth, no landscaping or plants planted. All the stone 
stairs which went up the slope at the cliff foot, with fancy balustrades have 
gone: just a grassy slope remains. Whether the stairs were damaged in the land 
slippage or they just removed it so that no maintenance and associated costs would be required I don't know, but the whole place has all it's interest removed. There used to be a stone building with a fancy tiled roof too, but no more. I have a 1905 postcard showing this view so I know I'm not dreaming it.

We have to go up Olivers Mount because of the superb view over Scarborough 
town and promenade from up there, and there used to be a caravan /camp site up 
the top which I want to have a look at. It's not in either of the club 
listings.

First we stop off at the foot of the Mount to have a look at the Mere where 
the children used to enjoy the rowing boats. There are no rowing boats 
now...............

At the top of the Mount the view is as good as ever.
The caravan site seems not to be a permanent one: there is one of the CCC's 
'Temporary Site's' there with a mass of appliance whites all in neat rows.

We are back at the CC Site at West Ayton nestled in next to the tuggers who 
seem to be having a barbeque or a fire eating contest: we can't quite see from 
where we are but there are huge flames.

All our stays on this trip have been on one or other of the club's sites, cl 
or cs's.
We have not had any bad ones or anything to complain about but this one is 
one of the best for no reason other than it just has a really nice ambience.

We settle down for a restful evening and plan tomorrow.
Our next Red Dot is O'Leary's motorcaravan supplies down at Hull, or Beverley 
Actually. We have a number of things that we want to buy from them as well as 
having a good old browse to see what they have.

The thing is, tomorrow is Bank Holiday Monday, so will O'Leary be open?

GO TO PART 10


----------



## ingram

PART 10

Before arriving at Scarborough, we did have another red dot to visit, the Harlow Carr RHS Gardens at Harrogate and we turned our map every whichway to try to get Harrogate to be on route from Blackpool, via Ingleton to Scarborough but failed, so that's another 'horticultural' visit for another time.

Before leaving Scarborough we have a last drive around and along the seafront. Navigating around here has been a little difficult, the old memory not being as reliable as hoped and the street plan of Scarborough being at home in a drawer!

The RM has been checked and fed, only having used about half a litre of oil so far. Amongst the service documentation we received with the van was an item referring to an oil leak that the garage couldn't trace without first having the engine steam cleaned. It wasn't done. One of my first jobs was to tighten up all the loose sump fixing nuts................what's that expression about not being able to get the staff?
Actually I am quite impressed with the attention to servicing that the van has had for most of it's life from the same garage. You know those little jobs in the service book like, 'greasing the door hinges' that never get done? Well, there is evidence on this van that they have been. My experience of garages is that about the only thing that gets greased is the steering wheel.

So, it is August Bank Holiday Monday and we diesel off down south towards Beverley and O'Leary Motorhomes. They are one of the companies who supply all the bits that you need to build your own motorhome and they will build one for you if you want. I like to visit these places, just to see what they have: I hate mail order when you don't know what the quality of the product is going to be, or if it is really going to be what you want, and Parcel Force will have done their best to destroy it for you. Most of these suppliers are too far to make a special journey so need to be visited 'when passing'. Hence the reason for ensuring that we were 'when passing' O'Leary's on this trip.

As Filey is on route we decide to stop off there for a stroll around and visit to the lovely seafront and Coble Landing. After a couple of turns about town we find an on street parking space just big enough to get the RM into.....I think. Angela says " No, you'll never get it in there." Is that a 'gauntlet thrown' or what? It is a bit tricky especially as the driver behind attempts to pass behind the van as I am about to reverse; or was she trying to nick the space? I don't know, but she received a good staring at and backed off.
Of course, the van fitted the space with a couple of feet to spare although Angela did have to leap out to watch that I didn't donk anything.
It's quite a long walk down to the esplanade, and steep. We pop into a Safeway to buy a couple of things: the smallest Safeway ever I think; about the size of a 'corner shop'.
Down by the beach we are tempted to buy an ice cream and we succumb; it's not a 'whippy' though..........a real dairy scoop cornet, Yummy!
By the time we have reached the Coble Landing and watched a tractor going out on the beach, to haul in a fishing boat, it has started to rain. Angela takes this opportunity to mention that she *said* we ought to bring coats and that *I* said we needn't. The steep and damp climb back up to town and the hunt for where we parked the van, is tiring and when we find it, we have a brew up right there in amongst the shops. Well, you can *do* that can't you?
Arriving at Beverley, it takes a while to find O'Leary's but when we do it is, as expected, closed. We pull up just down the road for another brew and some lunch and I walk back to see what their opening hours are. Opposite the 'shop' is a bungalow with several motorcaravans in the garden: is this where 'the man' lives? It sure is. He comes out to his car and, seeing me, asks if he can help. He says he'll be open tomorrow, so, telling him that I'll find a camp site and come back, he directs me to a site, only a few minutes away, which, as it happens, is the CC CL that we had selected as our first choice to try for.

It is down a Long Lane, that is the name of it, Long Lane, and the warden is on site staying in a motorhome: actually I think he lives there. He is in a bit of a dither when we ask for a vacant pitch because he has had someone booked with two vans, who has then cancelled, rebooked with only one, then said there may be two after all and the poor sod has lost track. There is a rally field next door, with just one electric hook up, so we pitch there in case the others turn up en masse. The adjacent field has some horses roaming and they come to say hello but don't ask any questions. None of them are called Luke, then!

Thinking that we must be within a reasonable walking distance of Beverley town centre we decide to do that. It is a pleasant stroll down the lane, then into some houses and we are soon in town. We *like* Beverley very much. Stop to buy some chips and sit outside the shop to eat them. The opposite seat is surrounded with squashed chips and discarded wrappers..........why do people *do* that? Along comes a man on a street sweeping machine..sweep...sweep..sweep..... he gets to this mess of chips and stuff, stops, and swings the brush arm out, under the seat, around the seat and clears all that rubbish away. I'd like to have a street sweeper. I wonder if there is a 'Streetsweepers-List at yahoogroups.com'. I make mental note to investigate when home......... but forget.

Further into town, the market square I assume, and there is a fairground. We stop and watch the dodgems. The only thing I ever went on at the fair was the dodgems, or 'bumper cars' as we used to call them. This is fascinating; dad with small son trying not to get him knocked about too much, two young teenage girls who seem to have failed to grasp the basic concept of steering, several cars containing spiky haired 'yoofs' who are trying to be all 'laidbackandcasual' and are, admittedly, seeming to carry it off quite well.....oh! envy; if only I *dared* have my hair spiked.............

It seems to be about £2.50p for a dodgem ride, albeit, quite a long one. I remember when it was about a shilling: Mars Bars were thr'upence then, so it was four Mars per dodgem ride. Now a Mars must be about 35 to 40 pence......so dodgem rides have gone up then.....................

Angela needs to 'phone her dad because he is feeding the pigs while we are away and she told him we'd be home by Sunday and we aren't. She doesn't want him to worry. You know when The G.P.O. or British Telecom or BT or whatever they were at the time, started to remove those old red 'phone boxes and replace them with glass ones that were invisible so you could never find one if you were driving about town looking and it was *so* annoying that you called the people imbeciles, well, in Beverley, it was easy to find a 'phone box because they are everywhere *and* they are those old red ones....... except they are painted cream. They are not 'BT' but some other company, Mercury perhaps. I *like* Beverley.
By the way, they are not 'bacon' pigs, but Guinea Pigs, just in case you were wondering.

I have been searching for a mug. I am fussy about the shape and size of mugs for drinking tea from. The ones we bought to go in the van are just a bit too small; they are nearly cups; fine for coffee but not for tea. I have been in every shop that looks likely to sell mugs, since we bought the van, but with no luck. We see a Wilkinson's and nip in, on a mug hunt, and find one that is almost, but not quite, perfect. I decide to buy it anyway; it's only £1. Before getting to the checkout I find some more on a separate shelf and there is one so perfect in shape and size, and a dark bright blue with white inside; it looks almost like one of those old enamel ones but it's ceramic. I buy that instead.
After some more exploration of Beverley and a drop-in to a bookshop "everything up to 50% off" where I can't find anything that takes my fancy we make our way back to the camp for to cook some dinner.

Another quiet evening listening to the radio, struggling with another crossword puzzle and reading some books, ends with an early night.

Will O'Leary's have what we want tomorrow; will it be a visit worth waiting for?



PART 11

Tuesday morning we have a farewell chat with the warden man and make for our 
visit to O'Leary's.

It's about buying a table for al fresco eating. During the summer we have 
visited numerous places such as Homebase, B&Q, and others on the hunt for a 
suitable table. We have even read a 'table road test' in a motorcaravan magazine. 
They are *all* too something: big, small, high, low, heavy, flimsy, expensive..............we did for a fleeting moment favour one of those slatted roll top types but that was too fiddley ( one I missed ). We watched someone assembling one of those once and it took over five minutes to erect. Meanwhile we had borrowed pa-in-laws old card table and although it is a bit worn and tatty, it 
fitted the job very well; light, right size for two, folds flat for storage and 
erects in nanoseconds..........but, one day, I heard about Tripod Legs to 
convert your van island leg table, to be able to be free-standing. This, 
unexciting as it may seem, is the main item that we hoped to purchase at O'Leary's.

O'Leary's is more of a warehouse than a shop. They stock just about 
everything anyone could possibly need to build their own camper, or modify, upgrade, improve the one they have. We spent an interesting 'quite a while' browsing around their stock. They have small display boards for, for example, taps, switches, lighting. Then the racks contain small boxes full of the stuff. Shelves with sinks, basins, cookers, fridges and all sorts.

We found a box of Fiamma Tripod Legs and some various length legs. We 
expected that the standard length leg would be too high. Outside the warehouse, 
almost in the road, we set up our chairs, assembled the tripod onto a short leg, 
fitted the table top and had a trial sit. Excellent. I forget how much the cost 
was, I didn't even ask, about £35 I think for the leg and 'pod and a huge 
'jubilee' clip to fix the leg in the van.

Our table top straps to the end of the wardrobe near the rear doors of the 
van, when not in use and the island leg is jubilee clipped adjacent to it. The 
new leg, with the tripod assembled to it, but folded, will clip next to this so 
it will be all tickety boo. The only disappointment is that the plastic 
coated jubilee clip can only be obtained in brown: not a good match for our grey 
nearly everything van. It does match the existing brown clip 
though................

I mentioned the chairs and that is something else that needs attention. Ours 
are old, about 1975, in a brown, orange, purple 'flower power' pattern. These 
fit quite well with our cream Citroen Dyane of 1980 vintage but not with our 
black, silver and grey van. We don't find any chairs at O'Leary's but later the 
same day..............................

A couple of other items are bought including a roll of that anti-slip shelf 
matting. This is to be cut up into table mat sizes; our table top is very 
slippery and needs something grippy. Some will be used to prevent maps and books from sliding off the top of the engine cover, where we store such things.

Well, that was extremely gripping and exciting wasn't it? So now we mosey off 
down to Hull for another Red Dot. Hull is quite easy to find but navigating 
through is fraught. I have a street plan of Hull too, but you can guess where that 
is........

We are trying to find a small carpark right on the river bank where the 
Humber Bridge can be viewed and we do eventually succeed. There is a thick mist 
coming down over the river and this makes the area seem miserable but we cheer it up with a brew up and some lunch followed by a stroll.

Our next dot is Waudby's, suppliers of 'things' for campers and caravanners; 
another 'when passing' visit. This is quite a nice shop; they also do mail 
order from the 'net'.

We buy one of those special offer 'two pack double strength' toilet fluids 
and see that they have one of those tripods that we have just bought. There is 
only one, it is not in a box and it doesn't have 'Fiamma' embossed into the 
casting. There is no price on it and I decide not to ask.

Upstairs we find chairs. We need chairs. We have looked at chairs, throughout 
the summer, in the same places we looked for tables with similar results.

These chairs look good and only twenty squid each. The are aluminium tubular 
construction 'directors' chairs with a fold out table-ette on one side and a 
set of small storage pockets on the other. They have grey/blue and green. We 
like the grey/blue especially as the table-ette top material matches our grey 
speckledy van furniture, but they only have one and we are told that others are 
on order. We notice that although the display chair in this colour has both 
padded arms covered in material, velcroe'd in place, the green one only has the 
'pockets' side arm covered. Some toe-rag has nicked one then. We do some 
tutting. Deciding to buy a pair of green we ask if we may take them to the van to 
ensure that they fit in the wardrobe. No problem! It is absolutely raining 
stair rods now so we splash across the carpark, one chair each and find they fit 
just snug.

We return to the shop and Angela notices that these chairs have an arm cover 
missing too. We hunt around in the wrapper to see if they are there and so 
does our nice assistant. He goes off to tell his boss and we expect to be told 
that they have 'phoned their suppliers and that they will get some and send them 
on.

But No! His boss said " That's how they are sending them out now; they are a 
strange company."

We hand the chairs back saying in that case we don't want them thankyou; pay 
for our other goods and leave.

An aside, sort of:-Fast forwarding to a couple of weeks later, we are in our 
local town centre and pop in to a household wares type of shop and they have a 
pair of almost identical chairs on display, complete with the arm covers; 20 
notes each; in blue, only ones they have, we buy them and live happily ever 
after.

The tubular frames of the chairs are wrapped in polythene before assembly. 
The various tubes are rivetted together, through the polythene, and the 
upholstery is fitted over the polythene. Polythene removal is extremely difficult and frustrating. I have seen other people with these chairs since, with little 
bits of polythene sticking out all over.
One of life's big mysteries though is why the chairs have a large and clear 
label on them saying 'For Outdoor Use Only'. ..... End of aside, sort of.

Well, we have run out of Red Dots. There are a few which were 'just in case 
we are in the area' but we weren't, so they were abandoned. It is time to head 
for home folks, but Hull to Basingstoke in what remains of the day, is too 
much to expect of me, the navigator, and even the faithful Renault Master.

A relaxing indirect tour down south is decided on and we aim for a cross 
country run towards Shrewsbury for our last night's stay.

PART 12

I suppose it's my fault really. We are both tired and just before leaving 
Hull and the Humber behind, I make some vague comments to Angela about a short hop on the motorway and mumble something about some green and red roads while sort of waving my index finger over the map and I definitely said about not going right through the centre of Sheffield.

I hoped this would be enough to let her know exactly which route I had 
planned so she could plot the details on the way, and tell me where to go...........

It didn't quite work out like that. We didn't go through the centre of 
Sheffield though: we didn't go any-blxxdy-well-where *near* Sheffield.

It became apparent that, after an inordinately long time on the motorway, we 
had done it wrong.

We came off at the next junction; I didn't care *where* it went and got onto 
a red road.

The next essential thing was to have a brew up, so we stopped and did that 
and gave the map a good staring at.

Time is getting on and Shrewsbury seems to be a long..long...way so we decide 
to head for where we know, and go to the campsite in Youlgrave near Bakewell, 
where we had been about a week before.

We have the route sussed, but I, having a complete inability to remember 
anything for more than a few seconds, have to rely on the sat.-nav. ( she is the 
navigator and she is sat next to me ) to tell me where to go at junctions.

I don't suppose that real sat.navs. and gps's fall asleep do they. Asking for 
directions at a road junction to get a response, "Er, oh, I don't know, I 
don't know, where are we?" can be a little frustrating especially when time is 
getting on and we may not even get to Bakewell in time and we are on the wrong 
road again. This is not really the navigators fault though, it's road signage. 

It is becoming more and more common for road signs to be hidden behind 
something; often an overgrown tree or shrub but quite frequently by another road 
sign or piece of street furniture. Do the people responsible *know* what they are 
doing................?

Eventually we approach Bakewell and notice a large carpark just on the north 
side of the river bridge. As soon as we have sorted the campsite we'll come 
back and have a walk around. We didn't see anything of Bakewell last time.

We get to the site at just before six and the pitch at the very top of the 
hill that we used before is vacant again. A lovely view. But now we drive back 
to give Bakewell our attention.

It's this car park that gets to me. There is a huge sign on the post where 
the ticket machine is that explains that payment is due 24 hours, seven days a 
week, but also that virtually everything is prohibited from parking there 
including 'Travel Vans'. Well, that's a new one I suppose. The list includes 
trailers, caravans, vans, lorries, tractors, traction engines, Fred Dibnah's road 
roller.....ah, getting a little carried away but you get the picture. Huh! 
Welcome to Bakewell?

Then it is noticed that the road adjacent to the car park has on street 
parking and it is free, up to two hours, and anyway that restriction ends at 6pm 
and it's gone that now...........we park there.

The entrance road to the car park has a notice saying that it is a private 
road and suddenly it dawns on me.......the car park is privately owned and it 
seems to 'belong' to the house next door; nice little earner I expect, in 
season!

Off we waddle into town and you know, I have eaten 'proper' Bakewell tarts 
and those excrutiatingly sweet and sickly things with the thick icing and a 
cherry on top; but what are these Bakewell Puddings I keep hearing about? well, 
here's the Bakewell Pudding Shop and it is open and so we go in. They are a sort 
of pastry bowl and they have some jam at the bottom and some eggy custard on 
top but not quite like the egg custard that you get in egg custard tarts, and 
some almond essence lurking in amongst it. We buy two medium ones, one for us 
and one for the 'inlaws' as a thanks for feeding the pigs gift; just a little 
something...

Bakewell is not very big and after we have 'done' it we head back to the van 
and stop on the river bridge to watch the water........there is a 
man.....there is a dog..........the dog belongs to the man.....the man has let the dog off 
the lead.........the dog has seen some ducks............the dog wants to eat 
the ducks.....the dog is swimming in the water......the man is calling, 'dog 
come back', come *back* dog..........the dog reaches the ducks 
and................the ducks fly twenty yards downstream..............the dog turns left and 
follows.......the man calls the dog.............the dog swims.....the man 
calls......the dog swims............the man walks into the river......the dog 
swims............the man wades.............the dog reaches the ducks............the 
man calls the dog.........the ducks fly, the dog swims the man wades the 
ducks fly the man calls the dog swims. Eventually, the dog, having swam to the far 
side of a small island, is heading off rapidly downstream pursued by the man. 
The dog it seems, has lost all interest in the ducks, he now only wants to 
avoid being caught by his man. Eventually though, the man catches up, grabs the 
dog and grips him between his knees while he tries to get the lead on the 
collar the dog leaps and the man goes down on his knees in the river.......the dog 
swims..........the man staggers........the dog swims........the man 
wades........*gotcha* as he catches it again and gets the lead on. We walk away as the 
now gathered crowd gives a round of applause and shouts of 
encore!!.............

Back at the site, in the van, we have some supper and I manage to persuade 
Angela that we should eat the Bakewell pudding *now*. We do, it's good, should 
have bought another. And so to bed. Tomorrow we *will* be going 
home...........................won't we?

PART 13

We wake up to a bright sunny morning and the view across the camp 
site and the surrounding fields and trees; it is really nice here and I take a 
photo of the view through the back of the van. It's al fresco breakfast for me 
but using the old card table; the new tripod leg is buried at the bottom of the 
wardrobe.

It really is home time now and we spend a while plotting the first 
part of the green road route home. We don't want any mistakes today. We are 
heading for 'south of Birmingham' and then to get on the A34 past Oxford and to 
the south.

We have an uneventful journey and it is quite quiet on the roads 
until we come to the A34 of course and that is just like a motorway. Whatever 
anyone thinks of the Newbury by-pass it must be some relief to most of the 
residents of Newbury. If you follow the signs to Basingstoke from there though, 
you are directed around the wrong two sides of a triangle that must take you 
at least 30 miles out of the way. There is a 'short cut' off the by-pass but the 
best route is still through Newbury if it is not the rush hour; we go through 
Newbury.

The house has been closed up and is musty. The grass has grown. 
Everything else is as it should be. It seems as though we have been away for 
weeks but it is only 11 days.............
and it seems *such* a long way to the kettle..........................

'Till the next time.........

Harvey


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## 88968

*Travelogue*

A verry good travelogue.
I was convulsed with laughter.
But nevertheless we intend to visit England an Wales Jun. 2006.
Hope not to get such parking problems wit our small Peugeot Boxer. :lol:


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## 88812

What a really entertaining article. You obviously had a great time.
Colin


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## 88927

Hi ingram
Sorry you had such bad luck in Kettering (we live there), you should have dropped us a line and we could have told you where to shop (I've parked a 30ft RV in Tesco's and it's free parking. Morrisons is not the best carpark for MH's and Sainsburys must have worked overtime to design there parking. I think the designer drove a smart car or maybe something even smaller to match his brain... I struggle to park our Chrysler Grand Voyager in there mate......
Regarding Wicksteed, yes they do charge to park but if you go for the day a fiver is not that expensive really. There is miles of park to walk around and it is all pretty level, so picknicks are great.

If you ever come back this way, drop us a line first and we will see what we can do to help you out.

Happy camping

Keith


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## Tezmcd

tag for a great read


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## bognormike

blimey! that's dug up from a long time back - very entertaining though  Thanks for resurrecting it..


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