Harry!

Ja?

Tell Franky about our holiday.

What? That little grey car? He will not understand. He is like Lady Lucy – he does not speak well English.

Yes, he does! He’s more English than you are. … Just a bit – Yorkshire. Franky!

Yes, Boss?

Tell Harry if you don’t understand him, OK?

Right-o, Boss.

Who is ‘Boss’?

I am – get on with it.

In Ordnung.

What’s he on about?

Harry was right -maybe I shouldn’t have started this …

So – we leave Meltham Monday 31st July. We travel well. We go through sunshine and showers and arrive at Cringoed Caravan Park (near Machinlleth) at about 4.30. We stopped for SKT to have ‘brunch’ at Birch services.

Who is SKT?

I am!

Keep yer whiskers on!

I may have raised this before – is sausage, egg, beans and chips a ‘brunch’?

That know I not.

What?

I do not know this.

I do – it aint.

Next day – Tuesday, we go into Machinlleth, where SKT hopes to find an old friend.

Yes, John Charlesworth, an artist, used to live opposite us in Bolton, but we lost touch after they moved. I found out on the web that he had a studio in Machinlleth, and so he did – but a nice lady at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) told me he’d moved to Shrewsbury. She made a phone call to see if a colleague had a contact number, but no.

You were lucky to get this information between showers!

Yes – showers interspersed with perods of continuous rain. We drove to Aberystwyth (because it was there, I suppose!) and back to Cringoed.

Do I tell this or do you?

Sorry! – Carry on.

Wednesday 2nd August – we drive back through Mach. to Aber. where SKT has breakfast at Morrison’s, and gets cross about having paid too much for diesel fuel on the way –

I didn’t know we were going to end up at Morrison’s!

– and so on to Whitewell Holiday Park near Tenby, where are already Rachel, Sean, Becky and Shannon with the caravan. We park on the grass some way away and opposite them. Then begins the rain and the wind.

And when there was no rain and wind, there was wind and rain. On Thursday (3rd) the family go off to visit a farm / theme park and I have a lazy day, joining the family for supper when they come back.

And on Friday morning, a couple with a caravan next to the family’s – a German couple as it happens – move away and we move across to occupy that pitch. This makes movement from caravan to me much easier, and safer for Shannon who likes to come and visit quite frequently, especially first thing in the morning, but until now this has involved crossing the ‘road’ between us.

By now we have SUNSHINE! We pack picnics and beach stuff into the big car –

What big car?

Sean’s big car – the one they tow the caravan with, and we head for Coppet Hall Beach:

(Our camp is centre left with the red shelter and the striped windbreak.)

First, dig out your pool:

 

Then, make a channel and dam the stream and let the pool fill up till it overflows! Shannon is the third generation to learn this game on this same beach – though Rachel says she thinks she and Chris played it first in Devon or Cornwall.

Even I have a little swim (in the sea) and thanks to Becky for staying with me. Later Shannon and I watch the boats in Saundersfoot harbour …

… while the others go shopping and come back with fish n chips.

Back at Whitewell, some hardy folk like to sit out between the vans as it gets dark – even if it means wrapping up for warmth:

This was a GOOD DAY … but it had unfortunate consequences ….

Saturday, 5th August: SUNSTROKE! Or if not sunstroke, sun induced migraine, but with the pain in an unusual place and a very hot forehead. When packing beach stuff into the big car, I forgot to include a hat – even though it was on my checklist –

Dumkopf!

What’s ee say?

He called me a twit.

What, like dick-‘ead?

Exactly.

Eee – I like im!

– then I sat for hours in the sun in one place on that beach. … So on Saturday the family go to visit Caldey Island (which I wasn’t plannng to do anyway) and any thoughts I had of sitting outside or doing a bit of ‘housekeeping’ are forgotten as I lie in Harry most of the day nursing me ‘ead. But it gets better enough for me to stick to the plan and prepare supper for the others ready for when they get back. (Potato Bolognaise – sounds odd, but try it sometime!)

After supper I get the guitar out and have a little singalong. Rachel said people wouldn’t gather round or stop, but I said they do in France, so why not try it and see. What was interesting was that although some folk did comment as they went by, apparently, that it was nice to hear, it was a Polish family – well, mother and daughters, dad being busy with the barbecue – who brought some drinks and sat down for a while.

Sunday is disappointing. The weather has turned nasty again, and the seafood restaurant I’d noticed on the harbour side in Saundersfoot, and invited everyone to have lunch at, proved less than wonderful. (No children’s menu, said they would do a small portion but didn’t, didn’t take cards, but didn’t tell us that when we booked, and presented a bill for six meals when we’d had only five – and one of them for a four-year-old paying full price!)

After coffee and dessert at a different establishment, two fellas return to the vans, while the three lasses go back to the beach to swim in the rain! Well, it’s all wet, I suppose…

Monday (7th) is our moving day. We had not planned to stay with the family all the time and SKT wanted to see the Gower, which before he never visited –

D’yer mean he’d never bin there before, like?

Like what?

It’s just an idiom.

That’s rude.

No, it’s not – carry on, Harry.

SKT and I are ready to leave before the Tuggers appear –

Tuggers?

It’s a nickname Motorhomers use for Caravaners.

– but they come round in time to help remove the levellers. Then we wave goodbye and leave Whitewell. SKT is hoping to find a place for breakfast along the way, but there is nowhere evident till we leave the motoroway near Swansea. So here he has an early lunch from Burger King! Soon we stop again at a big Tesco’s and he buys some cough medicine.

Yes, a harsh and painful cough has been bothering me all morning.

And then is a short drive along the Gower Peninsular to Pitton Cross, just before Rhossili.

Pitton Cross Caravan Park is well away the best site of the three we’ve been on during this trip. (Though the showers were better at Cringoed) There’s a good shop, (though no honey – they say the can’t get it, so a rum toddy for the cough has to wait) and even a sea view from our pitch, so next morning, the weather being fine and warm, it’s cooked breakfast outside:Then we go exploring. Beach-side car parks in the Gower are motorhome friendly – no height limiters – but overnight parking is forbidden. So we start at Rhossili, which some describe as the finest beach in Britain:

But we do not stay here – too much walk from car park to beach, down steep path. So we look at Horton:

Sehr schön. Very  nice, but I do not see this as from the car park there is a view only of the dunes. SKT has a little picnic and we move on. Eventually we find Oxwich. (We twice miss the turning as the sign is completely buried in the hedge!)

But perseverance is rewarded, because Oxwich is THE ideal spot for a day at the beach with a motorhome! (In spite of the £6 access fee.)

 

You’re almost on the beach, you can set up ‘camp’ or sit near your van, you can cook, picnic or barbecue, and you have your changing facilities, with a hot shower if you want it, right there. Moreover, there’s a snack bar on site and a toilet block, ‘traditional’, but clean and acceptable, if you don’t want to use your onboard facilities.

Meanwhile, the family had come down to visit the Gower Heritage Centre, only 15 minutes away, so they came to join me – only £3 for them and the big car!

We had tea / coffee, some played on the beach and some went in the water:

(The red dot upper centre is Rachel, and the white dot to her right is Becky’s head!)

But soon it’s time to pack up:

They have a long drive back to Whitewell.

And we have a short one back to Pitton Cross, where, having found some honey at the shop in the village, SKT is able to treat his cough with his rum toddy, and for the second evening, there is a remarkable sunset:

Wednesday (9th August) is fine enough, but with more cloud, more wind, and much less warm. However, Oxwich is so appealing that we go back there. Here is something very British happening; folk have come to enjoy themselves, and they are determined this to do. They are … what do you say – cowarding? –

Cowering!

Ah, ja – they are cowering in their shelters and behind their windbreaks, wearing their anoraks, their fleecies, their hoodies, and that latest must-have accessory – the wetsuit. Occasionally some go down to the sea and swim a bit, but they do not stay long. SKT, he stays inside all day, watching other folk, doing his puzzles and looking at old photos on the computer, as well as taking one or two new ones:

(Looking towards Three Cliffs Bay – accessible only on foot!)

On the way back to base, I ‘treat’ myself to a meal at the nearest pub. It’s adequate, not wonderful – not a treat!

Thursday 10th is fine and warm again, which is annoying in a way, because it is long drive home day. This weather yesterday would have been very good. We leave Pitton Cross at about 9.15 but go only a short distance to a garden centre where a cafe is doing breakfasts.

Not only doing breakfasts, but doing WELSH breakfasts, so as well as bacon, sausage, egg and mushrooms, I have lava bread and cockles! And with the best, simply made, cup of coffee just like at home – I donta wanta my ‘personal barista’ who maika me waita too long and costa megabucks. In fact, this was the best meal out of the whole trip – and the best value.

So SKT is now ready to drive home with only two more stops – one for the necessary, and one for ice cream. Parts of the journey are slow – M42, M6, Oldham – but we arrive at Helme Park at about 6.45, more or less as expected.

So, that were a good do, eh, Boss?

It were, aye. One or two disappointments like not finding John and only a couple of really fine days, but the Gower is certainly worth another visit, and there were two splendid sunsets:

PS: In case you hadn’t noticed (in the media) Saundersfoot beach is up for sale … quarter of a million, anyone?