Another jaunt without our own caravan. Grumbles isn't getting any younger, and Herself, understandably so, is reluctant to leave him for more than just a few nights. That and him having to cancel his two holidays that he'd booked for himself this summer .... reluctantly coming to the conclusion that he's not really up to travelling solo any more.
Haven was coming out at a couple of grand for a week away this time of year, so other options were explored. John Fowler was considerably cheaper, but we'd hear the rumors! We roundly ignored them and booked a week away!
Monday 18 August
After weeks of endless blue skies we're setting off in the gloom, climbing the sliproad ay J48 at 10am. Traffic was good apart from Bristol to Bridgewater, but at least we weren't travelling northbound as that was a queue from Taunton to Bristol!
A comfort break was taken at Taunton Dean for a pee and pasties before pressing on further into the West Country.
We're crossing the Tamar Bridge into Kernow with loads of time to spare, and unable to book in until 4pm, so hang a left taking the road down to Seaton and The Smugglers Inn to waste some time.
Looe is busy as we pass through and we're pulling up outside reception at Kilgarth Manor just after 3pm, on the off chance we can check in early.
Reception is plush, and our expectations are raised. The young lady guarding the desk is very helpful, and after filling out a form with the names of our dogs we're on our way clutching a stuffed envelope.
The van is great, far superior to anything we've had with Haven, and we're unpacked and arrived in no time.
Herself fesses up that she forgot to pack tea bags, and also has no wine! I'm not getting stiffed by the onsite Mace so we head back down to Looe and the Co-op where we hope the prices would be slightly less eye watering.
I've only just come out doing a farmer's walk and see Herself hanging onto Gwawr for dear like after a massive clap of thunder. We need to get her back in the car sharpish, because if another one comes Herself will not be able to hold onto her.
We're scurrying through the narrow streets. Herself is being dragged at a rate of knots by the girls, my hands are giving me some grief doing the Farmer's Walk, and Grumbles is doing his very best to not let his trousers fall to his ankles (he's lost some weight since his operation).
Back at the van unpacking we discover that despite going in for just tea bags and wine, and coming out with 2 full and heavy bags, I'd actually forgotten the tea bags!
Think Twin Town and Bryn Cartwright and you'll know what words Herself is uttering in my direction.
Grumbles is hungry, so 5.30pm sees us trundling down to the Manorhouse for some food. Dogs aren't allowed in the restaurant itself, but there's an area in the main clubhouse that they are. We settle down in our segregated corner, get the order in and watch on as Stripey Nathan's understudy gives it some beans getting the room warmed up for the evening's shenanigans!
We've not been sat long and Grumbles is getting agitated. His food is taking far too long to arrive for his liking! He's starting to spit nails at tables that get their food before ours, even though they sat and ordered before us!
I go up to the bar to get him a bag of crisps in an effort to placate him so we can relax and enjoy the evening. I shall be putting myself forward for a Nobel Peace Prize.
Stripey Nathan's understudy is ramping things up on the dance floor with the kids party dances, and security starts to get serious. You'd think this guy was guarding Cat A prisoners in Belmarsh not having to break up a fracas between 2 toddlers fighting over a lollypop!
Our food arrives, only first out is Myself and Herself's pizzas! For a second I thought Grumbles was going to either cry or storm off to punch Stripey Nathan's understudy straight in the throat! His came 2 mins an eternity (to him) later, and he's attacking it with his bare hands before the waitress can put the plate on the table!
Bingo time, and shit just got serious in the room as a deathly silence falls over it. I get a look from Ross Kemp for talking too loud as the numbers roll.
The table next to us shouts for the first line at £32 and they get warm congratulations (as well as envious looks) from all around. They're off again, this time playing for a line at £44. People all around are having a sweat (as Coupons used to say) then the same table next to us shouts for prize. This time though their walk up to the stage was accompanied by disapproving looks and mutterings.
We're now playing for a full house at £72 and you could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. All eyes are on the table next to us, and I'm pretty sure the old git 2 tables down got out a set of knuckle dusters. Thankfully someone the other side of the room shouts, and Ross Kemp takes his finger off the button on his comms, standing down reinforcements!
Grumbles is knackered, so we head back to the van where he goes straight to bed. Herself and I sit up chatting for a while, but it's not a late night for us either.
Tuesday 19 August
Gloomy skies again, and by 8.30am we have the sound of rain on the roof. Looking at the Ring doorbell does nothing to lift the mood either as the weather is fine at home!
Grumbles gets up for a pee and asks what time he needs to get up. He's been in bed since before 9pm last night but looks like he could do with a few more hours personal contemplation time.
Herself only packed 1/2 a pair of daps for herself, numerous pairs of open toe sandals (probably enough for a different pair every day), but only 1/2 a pair of daps. That'll do her knackered knees no good at all so we need to source a new pair poste haste.
Oh, and as a side note, because of her knackered knees "we" now have a blue disabled badge.
Loading the dogs into Trude we leave Grumbles snoring and head down into Looe. Google tells me that Mountain Warehouse sells Asics daps as does another shop on the quayside.
Google is misinformed. Mountain Warehouse only had one pair of men's daps, and even they were not Asics. The other shop was closed, and even peeking through the windows the only footwear they has were flip flops!
A Sketchers shop comes to the rescue, and Herself's toes are now toasty warm. She kept them on.
Back at the van Grumbles is now up and tapping his fingers waiting for our return so we can make him a coffee and sort some breakfast.
Over a bacon sandwich I look at some web cams and the weather looks a little brighter a little further west, so Fowey is to be the first destination of the day. We take the lanes from Polperro to catch the Bodinnick Ferry over the river. We've never actually visited Fowey so are quite looking forward to it.
Dropping down the hill we hit the back of the queue at a gap in the walls / buildings and are able to enjoy the view down river as we wait.
It's one of the things I like about visiting the south coast of Devon and Cornwall, a car ferry ride. We could of course drive around, but where's the fun in that?
Back on dry land we seek out a parking space. First the Caffa Mill car park just off the slip. Four circuits and some loitering were fruitless so we head up the road to the "main" car park off Passage Lane. That was chocca too, so we go back down to Caffa Mill. No joy again, so after another go at Passage Lane we abandon our efforts and head off.
We now realise why we've never visited Fowey. We can never bloody park!
It's still dry - just - as we drop down Valley Rd into Mevagissey and we hit tail lights waiting for spaces in the car park. That sinking feeling! However at least the queue was moving. We get to the front and the bloke says we'll need to wait until a space comes available in the main area.
I flash "our" blue badge and after coughing £7 for 4hrs we're escorted to a space around the back of Willow Trading. We fight our way through traffic and crowds down to the harbour and our luck runs out. It starts to rain and everyone is diving for cover.
We dash around in vein trying to find somewhere to sit it out and have a drink, but all places are full of others sitting it out. A fair portion of them taking the piss though, sat at tables with no drinks in front of them, no doubt hoping the rain will stop before they need to put their hands in their pockets! Scumbags.
We're just about to give up and I spot a gate off Church St leading to the Smugglers Cellar Bar. They allow dogs so we dive for cover.
What a quirky little place!
It stops raining while we're in there, we we head down to the harbour again, browsing some gift shops and picking up some pasties for a late lunch to be eaten in Trude on the way back to site via the scenic route.
An attempt was made to stop off in Looe, but after circling the car parks a few times we give up and head back to site, enjoying a little time on the deck as the weather clears.
Wednesday 20 August
After a full breakfast it's an early start this morning, and we make the short journey down to Polperro. We know from past experience that the car park is a rip off, and were prepared to cough nearly a tenner for just a few hour's parking.
They twisted the knife this year though. It's cash only, and only accept coins. I spot a change machine, feed in a brown note and it starts to drop £1 coins one after another, until I count to 9 and it stops. The screen flashed "empty" at me with no apology.
Grumbles 85 year old legs are grateful of the Tuk Tuk ride down into the village while I walk down with the dogs. It would appear that Polperro doesn't do mornings and we walk the closed up shops along narrow streets down to the beach before turning around and heading back to the Three Pilchards to waste some time.
We exit into bright sunshine and the shops are starting to open up. The doggy shop is entertaining as the owner can't hide his disgust at the little snappy dogs coming in and out, and goes out of his was to tell Herself how much he likes Border Collies!
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We're done and time to head back up to the car park. Herself and Grumbles let the Tuk Tuk take the strain while I walk back up with the dogs.
I was a little slower walking up than I was down and Grumbles is stood at the mini roundabout impatiently tapping his feet by the time I get there.
We head to Looe in an attempt to park and do some gift shopping, but the place is rammed and after several circuits we abandon the effort and head back to have lunch on the decking and chill for a few hours.
Come evening we head down to The Smugglers (nearly every establishment we've been in this week has been called "Smugglers") for an evening meal and a few drinkies. Tonight we are entertained by the real deal Stripey Nathan, and not his understudy!
He's loud, very loud, and not long after he starts ramping it up we adjourn to the quiet seating area next door!
Thursday 21 August
Big day planned today. Herself is shaking me at 8am and there's a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea waiting for me on the table.
We're going on a chuff chuff and want to catch the first one of the day in the hope it will be less busy.
We're purchasing "All Line" tickets with plenty of time to spare before the 10.30am departure.
Bit of a strange one this. It's a 13 mile journey that takes 2 hours, and it's fair to say that a large portion of that time is spent sitting in stations. Our first leg today saw us departing Bodmin Station and descending the steeply graded track (the ruling gradient being 1:37 to 1:44) to Bodmin Parkway.
Here the engine uncouples to go to the other end to haul us back up to Bodmin Station, with drive having to give it some serious beans.
A stop of 1/2 hr is now required for the engine to change ends and take on water, before leaving once more and heading in the other direction towards Boscarn Junction. The track drops steeply (ruling gradient 1:40) and around a tight bend, so tight that a check rail is required to keep the train's wheels in place.
With it now being past 11am we feel comfortable to avail ourselves of the buffet car, and procure some Rattler Cider.
We were the first ones in our carriage to break with many others following, and a parade of Rattler and Korev bottles made their way to other tables.
At Boscarn the engine uncouples once more for a "run around" before hauling us back up to Bodmin at a crawl.
Back in the car we get the road atlas out to see what's about. We focus on an area up on Bodmin Moor with lots of red icons depicting where there is something to see or do. Fantastic as the scenery is, we didn't find any of them, but did happen across a lovely looking pub called The Crows Nest in Darite.
Well it would have been rude not to stop, but having already had a Rattler on the train I'm restricted to a Coke Zero. I was chuffed a you can see.
We try our luck in Looe passing through. 3 circuits of the car parks with no luck, so we head off back to site to chill on the decking and catch some rays.
Clearing away the tea dishes we decide to give Looe another go for an evening walk. We round the corner to see a queue of cars stationary, waiting for a lorry to move. Spotting an empty space I ignore Herself's protestations and enter through the exit, slotting into the space. (I may also have reversed into a plastic traffic bollard, scuffing Trude's rear bumper. But we won't talk about that.)
The shop we want is shut, so we head off further into Fore St. It's shut, it appears shops in Looe don't want tourist coin as much as those in Perranporth or Newquay! We walk the streets and quayside looking for a table to sit and have a drink in the evening sunshine, with no luck.
We did see one table outside Yamas and were settling down when some git says to Herself "We were going to sit there, my mate has just gone in to ask if we can push tables together." Herself doesn't want the confrontation so walks away. I'm different, and can't resist giving him the evils while muttering "Didn't see your name in it dickhead!"
Back on site we head down to Smugglers for a drink. There's a Kid's Karaoke going on. A young girl is giving it her all. Her dad is sat on the next table to us and he's well into it (well you would be wouldn't you). For those that have watched the movie Twin Town, think of the scene in Barons when Bonnie is singing, and Bryn (her Dad) hanging off every note. Well that, but without the Lewis twins pissing all over her!
Stripey Nathan cranks up the volume and we retire once again to the quiet area next door.
Friday 22 August
After last night's failed efforts we were determined to get a parking space in Looe. Herself wakes Grumbles and ignores his protests about breakfast, or the lack of it, and we roll down the hill into Looe early doors.
Even this early people are fighting over spaces. We do a circuit on Fore St before trying Station Rd. Ziltch. Back in Fore St we spot a space that we need to double back on ourselves for, round the corner and bingo, no cars in front of us. I start to reverse Trude down the dead end and into the space where a young lady is stood guarding it for someone.
I carry on reversing and she carries on waving her arms and shouting that it was their space! I continue to edge backwards, it's just not on people running around the car park on foot "reserving" spaces! The car she was reserving the space for drives into the cul-de-sac and assesses the situation. I engage reverse once more and Trude's sensors are not having a fit. They saw sense and backed off.
The shop we've come down here for doesn't open until 10.30am (What is about shops here? Open late and close early) so we adjourn to a window table in Dotty's cafe for what turned out to be an excellent breakfast people watching the passing throngs.
With full bellies we step outside and in through the doors of the Ty shop. I didn't know Ty was a thing, come to think of it I've never heard of them either, but apparently they are a thing, and all the rage with the kids. Herself goes in, and confers with Beastie and Bwmps at home via video call before coming out clutching some very expensive soft toys.
These iconic pellet stuffed toys are named after their creator H Ty Warner, and the coveted collectable started a craze in the 1990s making him a billionaire - having seen how much they go for I can appreciate how easily he made his fortune!
We wander through the streets, browsing in the now open shops before hitting the paved area above East Looe Beach, and take a seat to rest Grumbles' 85 year old legs and Herself's knackered knees.
Back up the quay side we head and Grumbles seems to be fascinated by the hoards dangling crabbing line over the edge, so much so we have to drag him away. It's still quite early, but it's 12 O Clock somewhere and we're thirsty after the breakfast. We spot some shaded seating at Botel and dive in for what was a really nice cider from inside of the cage.
Back at Trude I'm relieved to note that the young lady that lost the game of chicken earlier hasn't come back to leave us a reminder of our visit. We jump in and head north towards Launceston. Only 25 miles, but much of it along single track lanes with passing places. Grumbles remarked that I'd spent more time reversing than going forward. It was stressful and were relieved to turn right off St Thomas Hill following the brown signs.
We're looking forward to riding the heritage railway that offers 5 mile round trips and visiting the museum they advertise. The gates are chained shut with a small sign pinned to them. They're not open today!!
Tamping I was. You've seen Nation Lampoon's Vacation? The bit where they've driven across The States to Wally World, and it's closed, and Clarke Griswold loses his shit?
Yeah that!
Fess up time. Last night when looking for something to do today, I was doing so on my phone. I don't really do internet on my phone as the screen is too small and some website don't readily convert to phone use. This is one of them. On checking back at the van there is a tab on the far right of the screen that takes you to a calendar showing days they are open!
Herself is thinking quickly now, trying to rescue the rest of the day, and suggests popping into the Co-op for a picnic and calling somewhere on the way back.
We're not long out of Launceston when we approach some traffic calming in the shape of an island. Signs indicate I have priority over oncoming traffic and the approaching motorbike comes to a halt. Bear in mind now I'm still a bit off after having driven an hour to find the railway closed. As I drive though the biker starts to wave his arms, shaking his head and gave me a two fingered salute.
I'm not having it, slam on the brakes. He looks round and is still waving his arms. I reverse back up the hill and wind down the window. He's quite red in the face and the inside of his visor is covered in spittle. I'm wondering what on earth I've done to infuriate him.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"You didn't say thank you after I stopped to let you through."
"Pardon?"
"You didn't say thank you after I stopped to let you through."
"Err, you were legally obliged to do so, I had priority."
"You should still have raised your hand to say thankyou!"
"For doing something you could be fined for not doing?"
"Fucking Emmetts!"
He engaged first revved up and stalled on the hill.
Onwards we travel. Herself asks if I'd like to pick a fight with anyone else today.
We spot a brown sign that sounds good and take a right turn through the lanes of Bodmin Moor. Good job we were following the map on Trude's info system because once more we ran out of brown signs. Heading for a big blue patch on the screen we're pulling into the car park adjacent to Siblyback Lake to enjoy lunch in the sunshine soaking in the view.
Enough for today, we've been out since 9am so head back to site to chill and relax for a while. A while turned out to be all evening as well with Grumbles and Herself in no mood to venture out once more.
Saturday 23 August
Grumbles not too good this morning, he's had a bad night. Apparently this is my fault as I FORCED him to eat a cream tea yesterday evening!
11am and Herself has had enough of his pitty party and asks where we are going. A plan is hatched in my head that doesn't involve him putting in too much physical effort.
Loaded into Trude we pass through Looe then hang a right down to Seaton and through Downderry onto the Military Road along onto the Rame Peninsular with spectacular sea views.
We then follow the signs to Torpoint and the ferry that will take us over the Tamar. We could have done the bridge, but the toll on that is the same as the ferry, and this is more fun.
Alighting at Devonport we follow signs for The Hoe, snaking our way through some of the less salubrious parts of the city.
Winding our way up Hoe Rd we flash "our" new Blue Badge and are admitted into the free car park for disabled visitors up on Hoe Promenade, with strict instructions to use hazards lights when driving on said promenade.
We take up seats with a view and settle down for some relaxation time enjoying the peace and quiet.
It wasn't to last though. We hear a din approaching from behind, and as it gets closer we work out it's a "Free Palestine" march. Not to worry, they'll pass now. But they didn't. They targeted our benches and surrounded us, chanting and waving banners.
I have sympathy for the cause, I really do. They could have chosen anywhere on the prom to gather, but they didn't, they chose to gather round us in an intimidatory fashion and proceeded to take group photographs, including us.
We got up. I politely told the leader it was a bit off. Grumbles was less polite.
Down on Hoe Rd we grab a table at Pier One for refreshments and lunch with a view out towards Plymouth Breakwater and boats doing boaty stuff on the calm sea.
Heading back up onto the prom we pass by Tinside Lido. It looks tingly cold from the heat up here, and the shrieks of an older gentleman entering the water testify to the same!
On opening up Trude we're hit by a wall of heat, so stand around admiring our surroundings while she cools down.
Grumbles had been playing a game with Herself this morning. He obviously wants a Sunday Dinner tomorrow, but instead of just saying so he plays the confused card!
"Are we booking anywhere for Sunday Lunch tomorrow?"
"Why?"
"Well we usually do, don't we."
"Err, no. We've never done that."
Back copies of this Blog will demonstrate that.
"I thought we always did when away!"
"Err, no Dad, we don't."
Herself isn't happy as she's not really a fan of cooked dinners, but we drop down into Seaton and call at The Smugglers for refreshments and to book a table for tomorrow.
I'm a little pissed off too at the thought of wasting our last day down here going for Sunday bloody lunch, so take myself off to have a shower and lie down back at the van.
The lie down lasted two full hours, and it's gone 7pm when I stir. Grumbles isn't going anywhere this evening, so Herself makes him a sandwich before we head down the hill for a few drinks.
A few turned into a few more and they're shutting up shop at 10.30pm when we venture back up the hill.
Sunday 24 August
Over a morning cuppa taken out on the decking Herself and I decide we'll travel home this evening, rather than be sat stationary on the M5 tomorrow in the Bank Holiday Traffic.
A lazy morning is had before having a semi scrub up to head out for lunch. I do a few circuits of the car park in Looe while Herself hobbles over to the bakery to pick up some pasties to take home.
Dropping down into Seaton, and it's rammed. Let's just say finding a parking spot was challenging and involved upsetting someone who had their eye on the space but was coming from the other direction and couldn't get passed another car obstructing the road.
We take our reserved table in The Smugglers and waited what seemed like an age for them to come and take our food and drinks order, then another age for our Carvery ticket to be handed over. The queue was mahoosive, not helped by a group out for a birthday lunch, where all their 7 to 10 year olds were encouraged to dish up their own plates! Can you imagine?
It's hot and sunny, 25 degrees, and we're stuck inside having a gravy dinner. Herself wasn't impressed, she may not have said anything but her face had subtitles!
No plans to do anything else now today so we head back to site through Looe.
A lazy afternoon on the decking was interrupted only by sporadic efforts at packing away. We hadn't intended to leave until around 7pm, but by 6pm we're all loaded up and the van has been cleaned so set off anyway.
The 4 hr drive home was incident free. Trude's wheels didn't stop turning except for a brief stop at Taunton Dean for a pee and to pick up some wholesome goodness from the Golden Arches. We're pulling up outside ours at 10pm and unloading so Herself can throw my pants in the washing machine before going to bed.
Nice little trip away, and we were pleasantly surprised by the John Fowler site. Still would have rather been in our Tourer mind, but C'est la vie.
Oh, and we're not going back to Cornwall in peak season again ...... ever!
