Our Travel blog
The less said about our journey to Kendal the better. Suffice to say it involved considerable delays, diversions, simmering tensions and the sat nav packing up just when we needed it. Nevertheless we reminded ourselves that unlike many we weren't missing deadlines or running late for appointments and neither were we the unfortunate people involved in the accidents that caused the delays. In particular we reminded ourselves that we have a toilet on board Mavis and made full use of it as our morning coffee took full effect. We are delighted to report that the site at Kendal is simply stunning. We pitched among the trees, next to a babbling stream, in fading dappled sunlight with the aroma of wild garlic and the trill of songbirds retiring for the night for company. The site is a former gunpowder mill and ruins dripping with moss abound with neat little bridges over former water channels. We want to come back here as 10 year old's to explore them with the careless abandon and wonder of childhood. Its all most bewitching and our cares and frustrations are melting away again.
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An early start today as Ray had to be at the station for the 7:20 to London for his one day a month job. About which, incidentally, one of his sons remarked..."are you sure you can stand the pace dad?" Well, so far he can and safely tucked up with laptop, Kindle, phone and headphones the journey and subsequent work were a pleasant diversion from the endless leisure.
Meanwhile Alison made her way into Woodstock for some pottering about and necessary if unexciting tasks and thus the day passed for us without incident. She did manage to book our next two stops so we have those to look forward to. After meeting at the station we wandered into Bladon in the evening, swapping stories of our day until we got to the church where Churchill is buried. We chanced upon a group of splendidly attired Royal British Legion gentlemen milling around the churchyard. Alison being, well, Alison she was soon in animated conversation with a heavily be-medalled cove and thus discovered that May 4 marked the anniversary of the liberation of the Netherlands in 1944 and they meet to place a wreath on Churchill's grave at 8pm on this day every year. After a quick peak at his grave and the well tended Churchill family plot we left them to mark the occasion in private and walked back to Mavis in a reflective mood as the sun set over the tranquil streets of Bladon and back to the site where we watched the lambs frolic in the adjoining field. We elected to walk to Blenheim Palace today to take advantage of the discount our site receipt would grant us. Against the not inconsiderable entrance fees to this stately pile it was certainly worth it. Blenheim is impressive. It was built by the first Duke of Marlborough as a statement of his wealth and power and stands today in impressive formal grounds - thanks to the later work of Capability Brown. Look over the estate in any direction and the view is always framed by trees of different hues and shades, giving a rich (in every sense of the word) texture to every scene. But first stop for us was the Palace so strolling down the stately gravel drive we duly presented ourselves at the entrance for a briefing, which consisted of being told we had two options, right to tour the formal house or left to see the 'interactive' history. We went right and straight into the Churchill exhibition. Old Winnie was born here two months prematurely, in fact so unexpected was his arrival that the family borrowed baby clothes from a local shopkeeper. Well, I say borrowed but as they've still got some in the display they obviously didn't give them all back the thieving sods. But we digress; the exhibition was very interesting and humanised Churchill's life. Although privileged and possessing a clear sense that he was destined for greatness he still struggled at school, only scraping into Sandhurst at the third attempt. He was also an incurable romantic. In fact he was besotted by at least three separate women and proposed to them all, one rejected his advances for the pragmatic reason that she needed a fortune that Winston didn't possess, before the saintly Clementine came along. Maybe because he was so used to rejection he almost missed his chance with her. Her journal reveals she almost left for London in frustration because he took so long to get round to popping the question. Eventually he plucked up the courage and so they came to be married on the 12 September 1908. Coincidently the same date as us if a good few years earlier, which endeared the old Pug and his Kat to us enormously. Well, that and the fact that Churchill took to wearing one piece 'Romper Suits' of his own design, with capacious pockets and matching monogrammed slippers. Some of these were even available in pin stripes which he wore without apparent shame. After the delights of the Churchill rooms the rest of the house was all a bit staid. Impressive though it is, and the ceilings in the entrance hall, the library room and the state rooms are very fine indeed, the place doesn't feel warm and vibrant in a way that, say Chatsworth does. Chatsworth continues to add art, modern as well as old, to its collections and benefits enormously from them. It feels like a continuous timeline runs through Chatsworth and although it's mostly a tourist destination it is still a living, breathing estate. By contrast Blenheim feels like a museum exhibit frozen in time. The building itself is spectacular but when you get down to it that's just a load of bricks stacked in a very pleasing fashion. They trade on Churchill, only ever a guest at Blenheim anyway, rather than the delightfully louche Marlborough's whose talents seemed to be for losing slightly less men than the French on the battlefield, gambling and philandering. Still, we had the interactive exhibit to look forward to. The interactive exhibit tells the tale of Blemheim's building and some of its more colourful characters with animated mannequins and talking pictures in a fun and informative way. Or an ill conceived boring way if you're not under 10 or brain dead. It started promisingly enough but soon ran out of ideas, one room consisted of sitting down backstage in a replica of the Palace's theatre, listening to the servants acting as stage hands discussing...well we're not sure what but if we found it confusing the party of four Chinese tourists accompanying us looked positively bemused - there was nothing to divert your attention if you had the audacity to come here and spend your hard earned Yen and couldn't understand actors voicing generic rural accents. We felt like apologising profusely to them and suggesting they turn Blenheim into a hostel for the homeless when they inevitably invade. But we didn't. In fairness parts of it were diverting, especially the rooms where you could mill about looking at the exhibits; and the touch-screen campaign maps kept Ray busy for hours, although that may be because he thought it was a cash machine and was trying to check his bank balance. Anyway the lovely and much more generous of spirit Alison wishes it to be known that she enjoyed it and thinks Ray is being an old curmudgeon. After our interactive experience we alighted at one of three eateries duly famished. We were confronted by a paltry selection of service station style pre-packed sandwiches, crisps and pies. The only difference between this and a motorway service station was the surroundings, and here clearly Blenheim saw an opportunity unavailable to Moto or Roadchef and hiked up the prices accordingly so you can enjoy a £1.95 bag of ordinary crisps and a £5.60 baguette in converted stables while reading advertisements for other overpriced crap. The only redeeming feature was that they called the chocolate brownie a Capability Brownie. Maybe we've been members of the caravan club too long but we found that amusing. We are happy to report that the afternoon spent wandering the gardens completely entranced us. Maybe it was because we had lighter wallets but walking in the sunshine admiring Capability's, er...capabilities was most becoming. The garden was full of carefully thought out touches that appear completely natural. For example the waterfall he designed to drain one lake into another is hidden from its approach by trees so you hear it first and build a sense of expectation. When you do see it you probably wouldn't realise that this entirely man made construction has the rocks artfully placed to maximise the sound and drama of the cascading waters. The most impressive thing about all of this was that Capability was designing the gardens to look at their best long after he was gone. We saw a Grey Crane in flight, pheasants, a duck in a tree and another busy defending his mate against other drakes, of whom there seemed plenty, and all manor of small wildlife and bird song accompanied our meanderings. Feeling in need of further sustenance we found an alternative cafe and paid £2.10 each for tea we had to dispense ourselves into a paper cup. Much grumbling in a quiet British way later we left for Woodstock to collect provisions. Woodstock was more becoming today; the Cotswold stone seemed radiant in the sunshine and brought the town to life. We were visiting our friend who lives nearby on a canal boat so we purchased some local beers - one flavoured with beetroot, the other a smoked beer, from the local deli. Happily they were both splendid, much appreciated and you even get 20p back on each bottle.
After Alison's amazing reverse parking in Mavis we spent a convivial evening aboard the boat with our friend and her dog, including a brief cruise to re-moor and Ray spilling beer because he tipped the bottle up to better read the label. We returned to Mavis in time to polish off the last of the Daal left over from Cosmic Puffin, which kept the bed nice and cosy. We headed to Woodstock in Oxfordshire tired, smelling distinctly agricultural and in need of rest and relaxation. Inspired by the festival and our new friends we took to the highway in fine fettle singing along to Day Dream Believer, the atmosphere only slightly ruined when More Kissing in Porn by Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer came on.
We arrived at the site on the Blenheim Estate and took a stroll into the village. Undoubtedly its very pretty and interesting in a picture postcard middle England kind of way but Woodstock seems to take its tweeness a little too seriously. The pubs for example, and it certainly is not short of them, make much of their foods providence and emphasise how local it is. At the prices they are charging you'd expect to sit down and discuss with it how it would like to be cooked and served before it trots off to the butchers. Maybe the fatigue was affecting us and it would look better tomorrow, when we are planning to visit Blenheim Palace to see where the old bulldog Winston Churchill was born into abject poverty. Thursday 28th Cosmic Puffin started in 2008 and is our first festival of the season. You can read about it and the valuable work it does from the link. We arrived on site at 5pm and after being given 3 different sets of instructions by 3 separate stewards we elected to plonk ourselves in the motorhome area, which seemed eminently sensible until we heard the tell-tale sound of spinning wheels. Stuck in 3 tonnes of Mavis we thought we were staying put for the duration until a trader with a Landrover was found to pull us free, which he did with ease and we thanked him enormously. We were going to recommend his stall too but we had a look and its mostly cheap festival shit so we won't bother, but anyway he was lovely. After a hurried pitch up in what we hope is a dryer location we scurried over to the crew and band catering tent where we are working the weekend. Predictably Alison knew the person in charge and so suitably briefed (apparently the 5 second rule when you drop stuff on the floor doesn't count in professional kitchens - which we were disappointed to hear) we set about helping to set up the kitchen, cook and serve hot dogs and get to grips with washing up 40 ltr pans. After our shift we took to Mavis where we slept fitfully thanks mostly to gale force wind and rain and partly because we had to be up at 6am scrubbed and ready for our next shift at 7am. Friday 29 Today we started our shift groggily but our cheerful colleague and the bleary but always friendly and appreciative crew and bands coming in for breakfast soon raised our spirits and we settled into serving, prepping and washing up like the enthusiastic amateurs we are. After work we mooched around the site, Alison had her hair braided and we made friends with our neighbours who came armed with Willow, the worlds bounciest dog and their 16 month old son. Highlight of the evening for us was undoubtedly Sendelica - a band we both love - think instrumental psychedelic space rock and you'll be somewhere near their sound. Better still buy something and experience them yourselves. Saturday 30 Officially we had a day off today so after checking in to the kitchens to make sure we could take advantage of it we walked along the beach into Mersea to demand tea and biscuits from friends who probably hoped we wouldn't be back so soon. News and hugs exchanged the afternoon was spent napping in Mavis and the evening watching Thunderdog, who can boast the worlds most animated saxophone player and then Nukli - a more far out sound than Sendelica and with vocals. They opened with Dance of 1000 Spliffs - that'll give you a good idea of the Nukli sound. They were also kind enough to donate a track to our wedding CD so let the record show they are splendid chaps indeed. Sunday 1 May Another 7 am start and we walked through the camp site to the now familiar smells of bacon and hash. We had another great shift with the catering team after which we explored the now buzzing festival site in the breezy Essex sunshine before catching Dogstooth - think a more ambient Motorhead with a charismaticly manic front-man who's impassioned speech on the environmental impacts of eating meat was greeted by a cry of "what a wanker" from a lady dancing enthusiastically with a corn beef sandwich. She did however take up an offer to accompany them on tambourine later - as did Alison! We also caught a bit of The Penny Antics - a very young (to us) grungy two piece worth checking out. Monday 2 May Sunday night blended fitfully into Monday as the encampment of a particular band decided to party, chat and otherwise play noisey buggers all night. Ray's inability to understand anything more technically advanced than a plate meant his 7am alarm went off at 6am too, just as the band in question had walked to the beach Alison, little Miss sunshine herself, leapt out of bed radiating early morning good will to all! At least we were able to put in an early morning stint in the cafe. Cosmic Puffin is undoubtedly ramshackle at times and maybe parts of the organisation could be improved, but order emerges from the chaos and it all seems to work because people want it to; and muck in to make sure it does. Its a great atmosphere and the people, paying customers, crew and bands alike are some of the most engaging, interesting and personable people and it was a privilege to work with them. From the drunk ricocheting off dancers and being gently guided to a seat to the young man with learning disabilities dancing with careless abandon in an arena where no one cared what he did so long as he enjoyed himself. From the duty first aider wearing pantaloons, headband and glittery beard and arriving on a Harley with inflatable flamingoes sticking out of the saddlebags to the heavily tattooed woman with 6 young children in tow who were all unfailing polite, gentle and wise beyond their years; our first festival of the season confirmed that the path we've chosen is definitely the right one. And a special mention to Emma and Rachael whose ceaseless enthusiasm, eagerness to show us, and other volunteers, the ropes, their good humour and fantastic tasting food were an inspiration. We look forward to working for them again. Stopping only to surreptitiously switch off the power to the van containing the band who kept us awake all night we left for Woodstock. 50 years too late and in the wrong country but hey, we were heading to Woodstock!
Today we left Seaview after a brief flirtation with its laundry facilities which, it has to be said are by far the cheapest we've encountered. It goes some way to offset the toilet and shower situation and raises it slightly in our estimation. We paid a stop to put more stuff, including our bikes, into storage as we've not made much use of them and they add to the length, weight and security risk of Mavis. Back on Mersea for the Cosmic Puffin festival where we made a grand and unforgettable entrance onto the site. We will blog about each festival in one entry at a time so the next entry will have all the details. Stay tuned. |
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November 2017
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