Our Travel blog
Just a quick update to let you know Alison had a good night and is up and about. Thank you for the kind messages.
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Alison became poorly on the journey to Littlehampton (West of Brighton, geography fans) with some sort of sickness bug. Once we arrived at the nice site Ali immediately took to bed while I remembered all my medical training and made myself lunch. Which brings us apropos of nothing at all to a minor diversion on the subject of rules.
I've always considered rules with suspicion, I suppose its the anarchist in me. Some clearly make all our lives better and safer, all driving on the same side of the road or not sticking your willie in the toaster for example. Bit caravan clubists do like a rule, i fear often to save them thinking for themselves. Their world, and I realise I am unfairly generalising, is one of black and white. Given the amount of Daily Express/Mail we see on sites I imagine severe punishment is encouraged for minor infringements, like driving at 6 mph or not having a Waitrose loyalty card. A letter to a club magazine recently decried falling standards because people were walking to the shower blocks in their dressing gowns. (I'm really not making this up). What sort of petty small minded blimp thinks that is wrong? I imagine some Major spluttering into his cornflakes as another Winceyette clad bosom bounces past his immaculately kept caravan. Of course not everyone is like this, but the rules of each site do sometimes verge on the unnecessary. Keeping noise down between 11 pm and 8 am should just be a common courtesy, but presumably because a few dolts with shoe sizes bigger than their IQ didn't respect their fellow campers its now enshrined in camp site law. Probably inscribed on vellum. The list of infractions is plentiful, from how to park your 'rig' to showering in the correct fashion, avoiding the grass, and complicated lists of what exactly constitutes 'mixed recycling, and here I confess I got confused disposing of several bags of Alison's vomit, I'm hoping we leave before the DNA results are back. We made up the sitting room bed and Ali spent the rest of the afternoon asleep under the quilt like a tiny mountain range gently rising and falling, and now we're watching Great Canal Journeys with Prunnella Scales and Timothy West because serendipitously they end up at Littlehampton we have the rest of today and all day today tomorrow to recover before an exciting weekend with James and Juliet. One week on the road so we treated ourselves to coffee in bed - and Mavis is looking more homely as each day goes by, or more untidy as Alison likes to put it. We took Mavis into nearby Rye. One of the frustrations of this life is the lack of car parking suitable for a vehicle of Mavis' ample proportions, so we ended up in the coach park at Rye station desperately hoping that we weren't contravening some bye-law. Time will tell.
Rye is a charming little town, built on a pimple of raised land in the middle of reclaimed marsh and it is particularly picturesque, in a chocolate box kind of way, with cobbled streets and plenty of exposed beams. We couldn't help noticing they take a particularly literal approach to house naming in these parts. Thus the house opposite an old pub is called The House Opposite while further down the road is The House with a Seat - which, you won't be surprised to read, has a seat outside and likewise the first house in the street was christened with the carefree abandon they exhibit around here as The First House. Dotted around Rye are viewing points but as far as we could tell these just meant you could see a long way. Not, unless we missed something, at anything of interest, unless you take a fascination in expanses of flat green landscape, in which case Rye is a particular treat. Back at the site we had an early evening stroll through nearby Guestling Woods in the amber glow of a watery setting sun. The peace and tranquillity was only disturbed once by a party of neon clad runners careering past us in a flurry of breathless politeness as they all bid us thank you for stepping out of the way. And home to dinner, hot chocolate and a film. We had a lovely night at Fairlight Woods site; is there a better way to greet the day than sunlight dappled through the trees accompanied by the birds singing? Of course every silver lining has a cloud and it our case it was to open the curtains to our neighbour, a gentleman of ample proportions in shorts, surgical stockings, white England socks and sandals enjoying a good swear at an uncooperative appliance. Fortunately they've now gone out and we are listening to Simone Felice while enjoying the sunshine, woods, birds and a nice cuppa.
We spent the afternoon with our friends Mark and Laura and their gorgeous daughter Grace. We enjoyed a guided tour of Old Hastings, including climbing goodness knows how many steps to look out over Hastings and then tea and cake in a charming cafe completely lined with books, and with the bonus of plenty of toys for Grace to play with. It really is rewarding when establishments make children welcome with a few simple toys and books and, most importantly, a welcoming attitude. Mark was kind enough to drive us back to Mavis and we're now unwinding and looking forward to our neighbours display of sartorial elegance tomorrow. Yesterday we tidied up Mavis and sorted her out based on our experiences so that she's much more airy and things like clothes are more accessible. It also gave us an opportunity to personalise her a bit more and this morning we woke up with glowing faces from yesterdays sunshine in our home, rather than in a motor-home. (Incidentally that sentence was hurriedly edited because "This morning we woke up in Mavis" just didn't seem right.)
After packing up we headed over to Fairlight Wood Site near Hasting, a tranquil site nestling in woodlands. Lulled into a false sense of security after yesterdays cycling exploits we decided to head to Hastings by bike, only to divert to Pett Levels and the coast when we realised what the gradients around here are like. Somehow we still managed to climb an enormous hill of the sort that ordinarily requires crampons and ropes until free-wheeling for about 3 miles down to enjoy a hasty sea view before struggling back (at one point walking the bikes up a 25% hill). Now we're resting...ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz We broke out the bikes and our whizzy new cycle helmets for a ride into Canterbury, which is entirely downhill from the site, making it far more fun going in than coming back. After a coffee at our now favourite French cafe we alighted at the Cathedral where we went to the sung Eucharist. What an experience! Alison said "I'm not part of the high church tradition but I loved the pomp and majesty of the ceremony and hearing the choir just took me beyond myself. The sense of being part of what is a vibrant worshipping community with a real local church feel, and following in the footsteps of worshippers and pilgrims who have shared in prayer and praise since the first century actually moved me to tears. Sitting here now in glorious sunshine, admiring an incredible view I am filled with an real sense of peace and wonder." Afterwards we were invited into The Chapter House for drinks, which was lovely and gave a much more parochial feel to counter the formality of the service. One of us even managed to spill tea on a minister, as you do. Left to our own devices we wandered around the Cathedral, basking in the splendour of the building, the sun shining through the stained glass lending a purple hue to the magnificence of the architecture and adornments. After exploring some of the city centre and enjoying a good lunch we took the steep climb back in our stride like the athletes that we are, and walked most of the way. After a refreshing cuppa in the sun we re-organised Mavis a bit and made her more homely before settling in to a snug cheese based supper. Although we both slept well and had a lay in we still vented some basic frustrations this morning. Firstly the power supply in Mavis is acting oddly, the 12V supply seems to be temperamental and we're having doubts about the leisure battery - although its too early and we're too technically incompetent to know exactly what, if anything, is wrong. Secondly the confines of living in a space smaller than most kitchens requires mutual understanding and a degree of empathy we need to adapt to. For example if one of us is standing at the sink the other is essentially trapped at whichever end of Mavis they happen to be in. A sort of dance then occurs as we squeeze around - only for the person to realise they've forgotten some essential item and the dance starts again in reverse while they retrieve an errant sock or whatever and then the dance starts again. Such is life on the road and after clearing the air we escaped into the wide open Kent countryside for a circa 9 mile hike, following part of the Crab and Winkle Way - a disused railway line running between Canterbury and Whitstable - before tracking off left to dip in and out of the Big Blean Walk - a 25 mile circular walk, then cutting in on an old road across Blean Wood Nature Reserve and into Rough Common and thence home to Mavis who immediately seemed spacious and homely. After the trails and tribulations of yesterday we started today with a trip to Maidstone to visit the worlds most forlorn motor-home supply shop. At least the return trip was enlivened by recreating yesterdays epic Medway adventure in a fraction of the time, and with the bonus of being able to enjoy the views. The real joy today though was walking into Canterbury, which charmed us both immensely. Entering the town via the Westgate Tower its charms are plentiful, with a variety of independent shops (a special note of appreciation to Canterbury Rock record shop, who will be enjoying Ray's patronage again very soon), fine parks and a real jewel in the magnificent Beaney House of Art and Knowledge, a museum, gallery and exhibition space attached to Canterbury Library, which is exactly as a museum should be; compact, engaging and varied, with exhibits from ancient Egypt rubbing shoulders with a collection of swords, stuffed animals, portraits and a fascinating collection of dolls house furniture among many curiosities.
Even more impressive was the helpfulness and enthusiasm of the staff, who even at 5.30 on a Thursday were eager to help, especially the young man who encouraged us to handle various Roman objects and explained about each one. I'm not sure where enthusiast crosses into obsession but he appeared to be skating cheerfully between the two with a knowledge of his subject to be proud of. Buoyed up by our visit to The Beaney House we had a wander around the Cathedral grounds. The sheer scale and magnificence of the Cathedral, vivid in the setting sun of a late spring evening was the perfect end to our first full day on the road. Well, actually our vegi sausage and mash back in Mavis was the perfect end but somehow lacks the poetic splendour of the Cathedral. Meh. After a morning sorting boring but essential post house sale stuff we caught a local bus to Whitstable. Lovely old world feel to the town, reminiscent of Aldeburgh or Southwold. Great fish and chips lunch overlooking harbour followed by exploring the town, alleyways and comely castle gardens.
Met up with an old work colleague of Ray's for a fun gossipy evening in The Monument pub. The bus ride home was mercifully brief considering the amount of alcohol sloshing about in us. |
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November 2017
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