How a boat trip on the Marais was wetter than we might have hoped, how Harry’s long awaited repair might  get attended to and how we spent an evening in the dark! (not to mention how we established the difference between ‘rockets’ and ‘fuses’ and how things are looking up on the house-hunting front …) 

A visit to the Marais Poitevin has been an outstanding memory of mine since the first exchange visit Henri IV – Boothville maybe 35 years ago, and I’ve been promising to take Carol there for some time now. Unfortunately the weather has changed and there was more rain overnight, though not as heavy, but time is running out and we decided to go for it anyway. Good thing we did, because tomorrow, November 1st, le Toussaint, is a public holiday and the last day this year when the boat trips are available.

  The Marais is also called La Venise Verte (Green Venice) and even with the grey skies of today (compared with the blue and blazing sunshine of that day in the seventies) the name is well seen. I’ll put up an album of the photos, so look out for it, but if you take the ‘guided’ ride, you sit facing forwards while a young man skulls you round a circuit of at times very narrow channels. Around here even the cattle travel by boat! Unfortunately, and this was ‘our’ skuller’s first and probably only trip of the day, there was one brief but very heavy shower about halfway round. Even a couple of well-clad huntsmen, complete with guns and dogs, were sheltering from it. Still, it made us feel ‘at home’! (We hear bad things of the weather in Cumbria – high winds and fallen trees, for instance.)

Back on ‘dry’ land, we found two estate agencies on opposite side of the square (it’s only a little town!) and again we were amazed and what we could buy with the money we might have available. We’re now seriously thinking of moving closer to the Marais (and the coast) to have a better look around. Problem is to find an open caravan park ….. 

But that problem was postponed for a few days yet. I felt we hadn’t done Poitiers thoroughly enough, so we went back on Monday and visited the famous ‘Notre Dame La Grande’, the outstanding example of Poitou’s Romanesque architecture:

  Carol was enchanted with the interior, and the whole place is in total contrast with the much more grandiose Cathedrale St. Pierre, endowed by Henry II (of England), Compte D’Anjou, and Elienor D’Aquitaine. (Those visits to Poitiers in the 70s and a thorough instruction in the links with Henry and Eleanor (Henry played by Peter O’Toole in both ‘Becket’ and ‘The Lion in Winter’ as film buffs of the 60s will remember) meant that I was able to answer Judith Keppel’s £1m question before the answers came up – pity I never got to answer one of my own!

Poitiers is also home to possibly the oldest complete place of Christian worship in Europe, the Baptistere St Jean. The building appears to have sunk, but in fact the reverse is the case – the ground around it has risen during some 17 centuries of development and is now over two meters higher than it was when the baptistry was built.

We also passed by the Palais De Justice where Joan of Arc was sent to be examined by the scholars to see if she could possibly be genuine about having heard those voices.

Now, a long time ago, Harry had a brush with ‘Mondeo Man’ on a country lane in Somerset, remember? And since then we’ve made zero progress towards getting the damage repaired in the UK. Well, just outside Poitiers, not far from the caravan park, there’s a motorhome dealer advertising repairs, including ‘Carrosserie’ (Bodywork). So we went to see him (we needed gas, too, and that’s been another difficulty, which he sorted). One look at the damaged panel, one phone call and he had a price. No problem to get the part, no problem if we went off to Languedoc and called in for the job on the way back; could be done in a day, one overnight would be better. We paid a deposit on the part and just HOPE it works out.

Leaving Le Futuriste was a bit of a wrench, especially as it meant leaving little Moglet to fend for himself …. In a way it was fortunate that a couple of fellers from neighbouring pitches – one English one French – came across to take an interest in how we hook up the car and the van, so we had to make conversation till the last minute. Still …..

We’d read in our (7 year old) Guide Michelin that there was an all-year-round campsite at a place called Mervent, not too far north of the Marais, so we set the Satnav to take us there. Driving through  increasingly heavy drizzle, which has become the norm now, we found a lakeside village with a wooded campsite and holiday park, but no sign of life at all – we’d telephoned,too, with no reply, but decided to go and see anyway. We turned away and went back to Coulon, where we’d done the boat trip and knew there was a Motorhome-friendly area where we could stay overnight, get water, and dispose correctly of both ‘grey’ and ‘brown’ water. Sometimes these places also have electricity available by coin-in-slot, not this one, but that wasn’t to be a problem for one night. So we parked up, after dark now, there was one other van already there and another arrived soon after. Switched on the interior lights – which work off the leisure battery, which is well charged up, – and – NOTHING; not one light working, not one 12v socket working! Why?? Working by headtorchlight we could identify the TWO fuses which controlled the circuits in question, but I couldn’t tell by looking whether they were blown or not. The fuses in the set which we have weren’t the right amperage!  Lanterns and candles were well buried in the garage, so nothing for it but to carry on by torchlight. We had a nice ‘Harry’s Omelette’ actually, and the night was quiet and undisturbed (from outside – the snoring’s another issue!)

During breakfast next morning, there was a knock on the door and a charming young lady under a large umbrella (still drizzling!) introduced herself as working for the authority and was calling for the 6e. overnight charge. That was OK – it was on the signs, we just didn’t know how it was done. We asked if she knew of a motorhome accessories dealer, – yes there was one in the next town. We had a problem with our electrics, perhaps we needed ‘fusees’ – no, those are rockets, what are they called? ‘Fusibles’. We asked if she knew of a caravan park open, or an ‘aire’ with electricity. No, but she worked at the tourist office in the village and if we called by later, she’d make some phone calls and find out. Really charming!

But the contrast at the motorhome dealership couldn’t have been greater! We thought we’d got lucky cos it was a Chausson main dealer, but – surly and unhelpful! ‘You’ll have to wait; there’s no-one available.’ But they did manage to sell us some fuses and Hey, presto! everything works! (Except the 12v sockets in the cab). But why should TWO circuits blow simultaneously when there was nothing switched on??

Back in Coulon, that charming young lady was as good as her word – or better. Before we got there, she had made the calls and found that the park in Mervent IS open (in theory) and they would receive us if we were there by 6pm. That was no problem. Back thru the drizzle, over the plateau where they grow –and sell – fruit, down the steep valley side to the lake (another dammed river), up the equally steep opposite hillside, where there are houses with wonderful views, thru the village and into the wood. It still looked  closed, but as we wandered about a bit bewildered, a voice called ‘Allo!’ and a very nice man came and said how good it was to meet people travelling at this time of year. The park consists mainly of chalets – empty – with some pitches for tourers. There is NO-ONE here! The man opened one toilet block for us (I can perfectly innocently go to the ‘ladies’!), pointed out where he thought would be best, but said we could park ‘anywhere’, and was very relaxed about payment. But we paid three nights anyway.  And here we are!

This has been too long – congratulations if you’ve got thru it! So I think I’ll leave the house-hunting developments till Chapter 18. Just a few photos to arouse interest:

How we found a very pretty little town on the banks of a BIG river (but we don’t want to live there), and how the Flying Dutchman hit the rocks  …

Among the properties we’ve been sent details of on e-mail (of which we’ve been sent ….. belt up, pedants!) was a ‘very pretty little house’ with a large garden and a swimming pool, well within budget to buy that AND a small place in Cumbria, near a town called L’Isle Jourdain on the River Vienne. We e-mailed the agent but without waiting for a reply went to look at the area anyway. The town was very attractive, with wonderful views over the river (though we were there on one of the less sunny days):

          

                       

                      

The river’s been dammed just above the town – presumably to control the flow – and you can see the outflow from the holding lake on the last photo. One of the town’s attractions (for some) is that you can go bungee jumping from the viaduct!

We found the local office of the agent handling the ‘pretty little house’ but although it was within opening hours there was no-one there. So we went looking for the village in question. THEN we realised why such a des. res. was so ‘inexpensive’; that village was one dead grot-spot if ever we saw one! No shop of any kind (well, nor has Bolton now), no sign of a community centre, neglected farms, and scenery to die to get away from! Nothing like the nearby town at all …. never mind!

Back at ‘home’, our corner pitch is ‘protected’ by three sizeable rocks, intended to stop casual caravan drivers from cutting the corner and chewing up the grass.

Yesterday afternoon we were ‘at home’ doing homely stuff when a newly-arrived Dutch couple in a large 4X4 towing a big caravan which he couldn’t manoeuvre took the corner too close – and too fast – and crunched up the nearside wheels of the caravan on the rocks. Without a word to us, he got out, moved two of the rocks further onto our pitch and got back into the 4X4. I could understand the Dutch well enough to know that she said, when they were clear, ‘Aren’t you going to put them back?’, to which he replied something like ‘They can stay where they are’. I just walked round the corner and stared at him while he made several unsuccessful attempts to manoeuvre his van onto their own pitch. Then I put the rocks back myself.They only stayed one night.

  It rained heavily last night (Friday/Saturday 29th/30th) and there was a lot of water pooling on the tent roof and the tunnel – in fact it was difficult to open the van door this morning with the weight of water against it! But it doesn’t seem to have done any harm. We’ve stayed at base all day but the weather faired up and we walked down the hill to the river, which is the Clain (rhymes with ‘jardin’). We were able to walk a little way along the riverbank and take some photos:

         

        

          

Sorrow! The boating staff seem to have gone kitching! (‘Ghost Train’ fans only, that one!) The trees around here are full of mistletoe:

Meanwhile, little Moglet, or Wee St. Georges (the address here is St. Georges Les Baillargeaux – no advice on pronunciation!) has settled down on our pitch and thinks he lives here. It’s our fault, giving him titbits at first, then buying kitten food for him. He’s much more tame now and tolerates a bit of stroking – as well as chewing shoe laces and playing with loose toggles on the tent.

How time flies and days merge into each other ….

Actually, Harry hasn’t done any travelling since the last entry a week ago; he’s stayed put and has served us very well as a base for exploration and relaxation.

Days have been sunny, –  warm, not hot, but nights have been cold, frosty, even. This is a very suitable park and we’ve decided to stay a second week.

    

Splendid autumn colours! 2 Happy points! (Anyone outside my immediate family who knows what that refers to – and enters it as a comment – can award themselves … well, 2 happy points!) The site overlooks the ‘Futuroscope’ theme park, which we believe is very highly rated, but at 30e (£27)each, even for seniors, we just can’t justify a visit.

Our first two days were spent relaxing, sorting, organising; crates have been emptied and cleaned which have travelled unsorted and spidery in the old ‘Box’ for years! We enjoyed our first al fresco meal – an English Brunch, prepared on the new barbecue.

(With bacon smuggled over the Channel in Harry’s fridge.) We’ve had one partly wet day – that was the day we went into Poitiers and ‘did’ the cathedral. Then we did a big shop at a huge Centre Commercial. That’s where we bought the French mobile phone. (+33 6 30 60 97 32 – I did that from memory!) Finally we got round to contacting one of the estate agents in the area whom we’d met at the ‘Place In The Sun’ exhibition. He works from an office about 60 miles south of here in a little town called Mansle (pr. ‘Marn’) on the banks of the Charente:

It seems a long way to go, but a difficulty is that most caravan / camping sites are closed now, so we are limited as to where we can stay, unless we use ‘Aires’ or wild camp. Anyway, we’ve viewed 5 properties in two days, none of which has had that ‘WOW!’ factor which has made us say ‘we must raise the cash to get this NOW!’, but what has been amazing is just how much we could buy for well less than the price of Garth View….

 How’d you like that at the bottom of your garden? (But no risk of flooding)

                                                                                                                                              Or that for a view?

We seen places with huge attics, huge barns, half acre gardens, but that’s not what we’re looking for! One problem was that Hugh (the agent) only wanted to show us places where the owners were away – where people were in residence they only want viewers who have money in the bank, ready to buy. So it’s a bit ‘chicky-eggy’ really.

No problem with fuel, by the way; Harry’s sitting here with a full tank going nowhere, the viewings were done in Hugh’s car and we filled sally up in Mansle before coming ‘home’ this evening.

….and THE KITTEN(S). When we arrived there were two little grey kittens to be seen around the cabin opposite. A girl on a bike who appears to live here seemed to take exception to them and went to fetch a man who trapped one of them and took it away …. A Dutch Lady from a caravan two pitches away told Carol there used to be four, but they’ve been catching them one by one (they’re not always welcome visitors on campsites – sometimes they steal people’s breakfast …..). Mrs Dutchman was trying to catch this last one to adopt it together with one she has already from Portugal, but it’s very people-shy,though very hungry and lonely, too. She’s gone now, but little Mowly-Wowly seems to have adopted us, or we’re the only people who give him anything. But he still wont come within stroking or petting distance – just knows when we’re around and comes and howls between the van and the tent! NO! We’re NOT going to take him with us!!!   

,

That’s cheating! That photo was taken when Rachel, Viki, Scout & I came back from St. Valery! Never mind! We sailed out under blue skies on a calm sea, and enjoyed lunch during the crossing to Dunkerque. Once off the ferry, we passed lots of petrol stations, no queues and diesel less expensive than in England ……….. ! **@$%!! Soon after leaving Dunkerque Harry squawked at us and put up a warning “SERVICE OIL NOW”. What? Sufficiently alarmed, and not thinking straight, we headed for the first available Centre Commerciale, bought some oil and bunged it in. Back on the road, the warning was STILL THERE! Then it dawned – we didn’t need oil; we needed a service including an oil change. (No flashing or constant red oilcan icon) But hang on …. the vehicle was serviced in April before sale and the service interval is once a year or 30,000 kms…… we haven’t done that! Finally we worked it out; the warning appeared at exactly 30,000kms on the clock – flippin’ Harrald, the German dealer, hadn’t reset the on-board computer when he did the service! Grrr!Gradually the clouds gathered and the drizzle started. We found a caravan park in a little town called Beaurainville (which seems to mean ‘Fine rain town’ – it doesn’t, of course, but ….) where a nice warden/owner allowed us to occupy three pitches for the price of one, so as not to have to uncouple, and advised us to park ‘a cheval’ – we got the idea (one wheel on the grass, one on the tarmac) but struggled with the image (astride?) – because if it carried on raining, we’d just sink when we tried to move. ‘Mais, il y a le tracteur’ (But the tractor’s there). And it rained! But in the event, we’d parked using our levellers so that there was only a little bit of grass/mud between the wheels and the tarmac that we got away quite easily.As we journeyed south skies brightened, tho showers continued, and we had a satisfactory lunch at a service area. We’re avoiding toll roads (motorways) and respecting speed limits for vehicles towing 80 / 90 kph (50 / 56mph) so progress is fairly slow. When we do find a stretch of toll-free motorway the lay-bys and service areas tend to be much pleasanter than in England:

(the white edifice in the photo is the loo block – this is just a lay-by, no facilities but parking, picnic tables loos and telephone.).Now we began to notice queues at petrol stations; some were closed, and some had petrol only – no diesel. We had to do some shopping, anyway, so we found a supermarket with a queue for the petrol station (a good sign – they must have some) and joined the queue. The manoeuvering was a bit tricky with the car in tow, but we managed and the diesel was limited to 40euros, but OK, we got that and parked up. When came out – petrol station was closed! If we’d shopped first ……Choosing our caravan parks isn’t straightforward – most closed at the end of September, so we have to look carefully at the info we have in our directories. Tuesday night we headed for Bonneval, a delightful park on the banks of the river Loir. (That’s not a mis-type Le Loir is a tributary of the better known La Loire.)

The sun shines on Harry at Bonneval.

Just below our pitch, the River Cher.

Again, a very pleasant lady warden directed us to a spot where we could park ‘lengthways’ without uncoupling and on firm ground, but when we did, and began to chat with the English couple in a little DIY van conversion ‘over the road’ we noticed that ‘Sally’s’ brake lights were still on, though everything was switched off and they shouldn’t have been. Roy took a helpful interest and worked out that the brake cable on the  A-frame was too tight. He identified where adjustment was possible and, with an assortment of spanners from his own tool kit, fixed it. Least we could do was invite Roy and Angela out of the drizzle to drinks and nibbles in our luxurious (by comparison) surroundings. It turned out that Angela is a foreign languages teacher who used to work at Kingsthorpe Upper School, Northampton! They also tried (not very hard) to sell us a place they are vacating near Limoges, but it’s not quite what we’re looking for. Sunrise thru the trees next morning (Wednesday) was a treat!:

Bonneval in the Valley of the Cher is a lovely site, and sun-up through the trees was delightful.

But with fresh croissants for breakfast and routine jobs to do (mainly concerning water) we didn’t get away till midday! But the weather was sunnier now and we travelled steadily, crossing La Loire in Tours, which brought memories of evenings in August 1972, when I spent a month there on a course for Primary School French Teachers.   

                                  

So as we approached Poitiers – another old haunt, exchange visits Boothville/Henri IV – we were able to shop and fill up with diesel without limit, so we have a full tank which we don’t need for at least a week, and make our way to the ‘Futuriste’ caravan park, one we’d read about in Motorcaravan Magazine (now no more!), and which takes it’s name from the nearby ‘Futuroscope’ Theme Park. They are also in the ‘Camping Cheques’ network, a voucher discount scheme recommended to us 2 years ago by a couple we met on the way down to Languedoc. You buy vouchers from Caravan Club before departure (when booking your ferry crossing thru the club) and you get your overnight fees, with electricity, for well less than the ‘drop in’ price (out of season). You can also get – as here now – offers like 7 nights for six vouchers, so we’ve booked in for a week.                                                               

More later – but for now: Everybody Speaks English  (But can the English understand the English everybody speaks?)Most people, we think would sort this out:– Please note the rubbishes are outside the campsite.

But we defy anyone without a knowledge of French to know what this means:– It is forbidden to place layers into to the rubbishes.

And this?– Bricks may be placed with the plastic.

Answers on a postcard ….. no, as a comment.

How Harry (With Sally Close Behind) Travelled Through The Storm To Park Up In a Splendid Sunset And Came Home By a Radiant Rainbow. Meanwhile ‘A Place In The Sun’ Was a Soggy Saga and Some Esperanto Speakers Discovered Some Dangerous Words In Chester.

Having seen gruesome weather forecasts for Friday 1st October, we pulled Harry out of the garden and hooked up to Sally (which is taking us about 20 minutes) on Thursday afternoon. Just as well. We still had plenty of stuff to carry out in the heavy shower which merged into the longer period of rain through which we drove to Chester on Friday afternoon. But things dried up as we neared our destination – Manor Wood Caravan Park – so that as we parked up and sorted things out (not including putting the tent / awning up as this was only a one-night stop-over) we were treated to a fine sunset, overseen by a watchful crow:

Next day we arranged to leave Harry at Manor Wood and go into Chester in the little car. Carol dropped me off at the venue for the Esperanto Federation Meeting and then discovered the delights of trying to find somewhere to park in Chester! She didn’t really ‘do’ the city, but did see the Cathedral from the outside:

Meanwhile an international gathering of Esperanto speakers (from Italy, Poland, Estonia, Germany, Scotland, Wales and even Yorkshire) met informally for lunch, then more formally for a bit of business before hearing from the Speaker, Francesco Maurelli, from Italy, about his travels, mainly in Brazil and Australia. The event concluded with separate groups for intermediate and advanced speakers. Helping (I hope) the intermediate group, I drew their attention to the danger of word-for-word translation and ‘dictionaryitis’. It was interesting that the non-English speakers present confirmed that the examples I gave were more or less incomprehensible to anyone who couldn’t work out what the original mistranslated English had been.

Carol arrived to dig me out prompt at 5 o’clock and we made our way back to Manor Wood to reunite the two vehicles. We then travelled on through increasingly bad weather to arrive at Somers Wood (Meriden) in very heavy rain. Nothing for it but to put on waterproofs and do what had to be done – take in water and unhook the vehicles before parking up. The rain eased off during the night, but was chucking it down again in the morning. Visiting the National Exhibition Centre in really bad weather is an experience to be avoided if at all possible. We were guided to park about mid-way between the shuttle-bus stop and the exhibition hall, so walk or ride, we were going to get soaked. There are no covered walkways.

However, arriving at the ‘A Place in the Sun’ Exhibition soaking wet, it was surprising how quickly we dried out! In spite finding that on the one occasion when you wanted hot air driers in the toilets, there weren’t any! Roller towels only! Presumably it was the air conditioning that did the job. As for the exhibition, we were a bit ‘miffed’ that contrary to advance publicity and information in the show guide, there were actually no auditions for ‘A Place in the Sun’ or ‘A Place in the Sun – Home or Away?’. They were auditioning for a programme for people looking to set up a business overseas, but that wasn’t us. Still, we filled in an application for future consideration, and made a number of possibly useful contacts – estate agents are already sending e-mails of ‘interesting’ properties, and we have contact numbers for people to get in touch with once we are there. (Where?!)

That was Sunday 3rd October. Monday was fine and we made our way to Warwick Castle, which Carol had never seen before. It is a splendid example of a Stately Home within the walls of a fortified castle, but it’s an expensive visit. The current owners (wasn’t it with Madame Tussaud’s for a while?) have done a lot with animations using live actors. The photos do not include the ‘Dungeon Experience’!

We started at the watermill – always there for grinding corn (and catching eels) but used for generating electricity in later years.

We walked the battlements (‘530 steep steps which can be tiring’ – we were warned!) in the last hour before closing.

The main gateway is really impressive. (Though the clock’s wrong!)

Maybe I’ll make an album of the other pictures – we took quite a lot.

The journey home on Tuesday was happily uneventful – apart from the complete rainbow which accompanied for some distance. We found no crock of gold, but maybe sunny days are ahead – our Channel Crossing is actually booked! Watch this space!

Next day we arranged to leave Harry at Manor Wood and go into Chester in the little car. Carol dropped me off at the venue for the Esperanto Federation Meeting and then discovered the delights of trying to find somewhere to park in Chester! She didn’t really ‘do’ the city, but did see the Cathedral from the outside:

May 2026 – Photos missing – can’t be found to reinstate them.                                

Meanwhile an international gathering of Esperanto speakers (from Italy, Poland, Estonia, Germany, Scotland, Wales and even Yorkshire) met informally for lunch, then more formally for a bit of business before hearing from the Speaker, Francesco Maurelli, from Italy, about his travels, mainly in Brazil and Australia. The event concluded with separate groups for intermediate and advanced speakers. Helping (I hope) the intermediate group, I drew their attention to the danger of word-for-word translation and ‘dictionaryitis’. It was interesting that the non-English speakers present confirmed that the examples I gave were more or less incomprehensible to anyone who couldn’t work out what the original mistranslated English had been.

Carol arrived to dig me out prompt at 5 o’clock and we made our way back to Manor Wood to reunite the two vehicles. We then travelled on through increasingly bad weather to arrive at Somers Wood (Meriden) in very heavy rain. Nothing for it but to put on waterproofs and do what had to be done – take in water and unhook the vehicles before parking up. The rain eased off during the night, but was chucking it down again in the morning. Visiting the National Exhibition Centre in really bad weather is an experience to be avoided if at all possible. We were guided to park about mid-way between the shuttle-bus stop and the exhibition hall, so walk or ride, we were going to get soaked. There are no covered walkways.

However, arriving at the ‘A Place in the Sun’ Exhibition soaking wet, it was surprising how quickly we dried out! In spite finding that on the one occasion when you wanted hot air driers in the toilets, there weren’t any! Roller towels only! Presumably it was the air conditioning that did the job. As for the exhibition, we were a bit ‘miffed’ that contrary to advance publicity and information in the show guide, there were actually no auditions for ‘A Place in the Sun’ or ‘A Place in the Sun – Home or Away?’. They were auditioning for a programme for people looking to set up a business overseas, but that wasn’t us. Still, we filled in an application for future consideration, and made a number of possibly useful contacts – estate agents are already sending e-mails of ‘interesting’ properties, and we have contact numbers for people to get in touch with once we are there. (Where?!)

That was Sunday 3rd October. Monday was fine and we made our way to Warwick Castle, which Carol had never seen before. It is a splendid example of a Stately Home within the walls of a fortified castle, but it’s an expensive visit. The current owners (wasn’t it with Madame Tussaud’s for a while?) have done a lot with animations using live actors. The photos do not include the ‘Dungeon Experience’!

Maybe I’ll make an album of the other pictures – we took quite a lot.

The journey home on Tuesday was happily uneventful – apart from the complete rainbow which accompanied us for some distance. We found no crock of gold, but maybe sunny days are ahead – our Channel Crossing is actually booked! Watch this space!

How Harriette Got Straightened Out and Harry Saw The Light(s).

September 24th: Time to go back to the caravan / camping store in Preston where we bought the awning (Harriette) and see what could be done about the bent poles. (See Chapter 11, Part One). Armed with 2 sheets of photos we went in without much hope, but we were pleased to see the lady salesperson who had advised us on our first visit. Not to go into too much detail, we came away with a refund for the item supplied which we hadn’t wanted – and a new set of poles! (That lady understands PR.) Of course, we spent another £50 while we were there, and we’ll go again, neither of which would have been the case if she’d been less sympathetic.

So then we decided to hit Blackpool! A bit disappointed to find that the Pleasure Beach was already closed when we arrived just after seven, but the illuminations came to life (or light) at exactly seven-thirty, and we decided to ‘do’ the lights by van, instead of the ‘usual’ tram ride.

 Not a bad plan, really, except that it’s very slow and the 1 hour of crawling at walking pace or less is hard work on the clutch and the left leg controlling it! But the lights are well seen, having the view down the centre of the display, rather than the side where the tramway is, and there’s plenty of time to take in the big tableaux at the Bispham end. Carol’s attempts to capture some shots on her phone camera weren’t entirely successful, but here are a few samples:

 

We completed the evening with the traditional Fish N Chips supper, but ate it in the van, not on the pavement. The drive home then took nearly two hours.

Part Two: How Harry Climbed Sutton Bank and How a ‘Superpitch’ wasn’t really.

We moved on on Tuesday (31st August), happily ‘landing’ at Tesco’s in Northallerton without looking for it, so shopping for essentials before going on to Cote Ghyll Caravan Park near Osmotherley, just inside the North York Moors National Park. Osmotherley is another pretty little village – not quite as picturesque as Dunster in Somerset – but very nice, with a very attractive little reservoir just above as we found only when driving away on Friday.

Cote Ghyll is very different from St. Helena’s! The latter is ‘adults only’, this was full of children. Lots of caravans and tents of all shapes and sizes, arranged in terraces on either side of a stream with fairly steep sides. We paid £5 a night extra for a ‘superpitch’, which offered our own water point, grey water disposal point and television aerial connection, reception being poor if you didn’t connect to the aerials up on the hillside. Well, yes, it was all there, but very caravan-friendly. The water, good, we filled Harry’s tank fully for the first time ever! The grey water disposal, useless for a motorhome, unless carrying a roll-away tank like a caravan. It was at the side, near the tap, not where we could drive over it. The aerial made a huge difference, but the wire wasn’t long enough to reach to where we needed to park Harry (on hard standing) to connect to Harriette (on the grass). We went to ask for an extension, but reception was closed by then, so we just parked with a space between the van and the tent which was OK because the weather was fine and we didn’t need the connecting ‘tunnel’.

On Thursday we were free of commitments and thought of doing the North York Moors Railway, but settled in the end for a drive up Sutton Bank – a notorious climb which defeats some HGVs and where caravans are not allowed. 25% gradients and S-bends. How did Harry manage? Easily! No problems. On top we picnicked, ‘did’ the Visitor Centre, then walked along the rim of the escarpment past the Yorkshire Gliding Club’s premises. There were at list six gliders ‘up’ when we started, most of which came in to land in front of us.

We completed the day with a scenic drive through Helmsey – very pretty, but we didn’t stop, worth a re-visit, and on to an excellent dinner at the Black Bull in Swainby, the next village north from Osmotherley. Found it by chance, very lucky.

AND FINALLY (though nothing to do with Yorkshire) ‘How Harry Met Sally’ (!) – that was Carol’s idea; I wanted to call him ‘Fred’ or her ‘Freddie’ (Don’t take a vote on it!), but anyway; we drove home (and Carol drove from Scotch Corner) via Kendal, where we actually picked up the little red car! (No photos yet) Once ‘our’ salesman was available – and curiously enough, the delay was because he was dealing with a family with a Chausson Flash 03 Motorhome who were collecting a red C1 to tow behind it! – once he was available to us, the hand over was very quick, everything having been done last week and the cheque having cleared: ‘There are your keys, there’s your car, have fun, goodbye!’ So Carol drove home in a nice shiny (nearly) new red car, while I trundled along in the (still) battered old (by comparison) van! That’s life, init?!

Part One: How Harry Proved Culinarily Capable (Twice) and How Harriette Got Blown Away (Almost)

I had to be in Northallerton for an appointment on 1st September, so we decided to have a bit of a holiday round it. Also, Philip, Carol (jnr) and Judi were staying in Kettlewell for the bank holiday weekend, so we suggested a meet. But at first it seemed that that was going to take place from home because all caravan parks were fully booked until we heard from St. Helena’s near Leeds that they had space. So we went there on Friday and set up. We agreed to meet GPT and the ‘girls’ on Sunday (it was his birthday on Monday) at Bolton Abbey, being about halfway between us, and we offered to ‘do’ a meal. This would be the first time we (I) had prepared a cooked meal for four on Harry’s 3 gas rings and limited workspace.

However, a good meal was enjoyed by all, I think, after which the ladies went for a walk down to the ‘Strid’ (where the Wharfe narrows between rocks so that some foolhardy persons have occasionally – and usually unsuccessfully and fatally,tried to STRIDE across.)

(Photo – The Strid)

(Photo – Philip snoozing)

Meanwhile Philip snoozed and I, Cinderella-like, washed up! When the walkers got back we popped a bottle of bubbly to mark birthday and retirement and sampled some of ‘that’ cake. Nearly everyone had gone from the car park by now, and a nice lady had come over to make sure we knew we couldn’t stay overnight. The place now being empty we got our bikes off the back so that Philip could sample assisted riding – but everyone wanted a go and Carol (jnr) has some good photos of that part of the event.

So we parted and went up or down the valley according to our resting places, but the scene which greeted us at St. Helena’s as we turned towards our pitch seemed at first to be one of total devastation! There were all our belongings which we’d left in the awning (Harriette), surrounded by a tangle of twisted metal. At first the fabric of the awning was nowhere to be seen. Closer inspection showed things weren’t too bad, considering. Firstly, although the day had been very windy, it had been dry, so nothing had got seriously wet. Secondly, nothing had been interfered with – not even the ‘bar’. And thirdly the tent was just lying on the ground under the frame which was on its ‘front’ with the top and sides waving about in the air, but most of the poles seriously distorted.

(Photo – Harriette in bits)

However, a nice American neighbour from the caravan a little way away came over and said he would have tried to sort it out for us but he had no idea where to begin, but he would help now we were here, so we got the frame standing again in spite of the bent poles and were able to replace the fabric and all the contents. A combination of unfortunate circumstances had caused the upset – the wind in exactly the wrong direction, with the van not there and a slight slope on the field, again working with the wind; but I am wondering whether we can say the poles are ‘not fit for purpose’. Kim, the American, couldn’t stay for a drink just then as he and his wife had visitors arriving, so we thanked him next day with a bottle of wine …

That next day was Bank Holiday Monday, and we (I) did another meal for four; Chris and Michelle came up from Huddersfield for a helping of sausage and mash followed by pancakes. While some people sat in the sun and chatted:

(Photo – Family chatting)

Someone else had to slave over a hot stove!

(photo – SKT slaving over hot stove)

When that was over – and appreciated – we decided not to go out anywhere but to stay where we were and have a game – of bridge! During the game we had a little visitor ………….    aahh!

(Photo – hedgehog)