Reeking of Money in Henley

Leg two of our autumn trip, and over the last couple of nights I've been dithering about our next site.  I have my doubts but in the end for once in our touring lives we stick to plan A

Wednesday 17 October

They are obviously expecting a lot of arrivals today, early arrivals too by the stressed look on the warden's face as she paced the site trying to tick off those due to leave this morning.  I'm rushing for no one, especially those that take the piss and arrive hours before they should do.

By 10.15am though, we've broken camp, taken the dogs for a walk and are hitched up and ready to hit the road.

The dogs are pouting, as they think it's holiday over when we join the traffic on the M40 and head south down into the shires.  Traffic is heavy with a lot of HGVs on the road and we pass in silence the spot of the fatality this week when a car towing a caravan made it's way down lane 3 against the flow of traffic on the M40.

At 12.05pm we've negotiated Marlow town centre and are pulling in through the gate of the Caravan Club's Henley Four Oaks site.  Site arrival time here is noon, and we think we've timed it perfectly until we do the site circuit and see at least 7 units setting up, looking like they've been doing so for at least half an hour too!  Gits.

We take the last available awning pitch with backs directly onto the A4155.  We can't see it, but we can certainly hear it. No point moaning about something you can't change though, so set about setting up camp for the next 4 nights.

Herself had been busy while I'd been banging in the pegs, and just as I smashed my knuckles for the last time I am am presented with a plate of bacon and egg butties.

We need some shopping though, so with no time to sit down we track down a Tesco in Henley.  We're also on the lookout for some open space to exercise the dogs, there is an onsite dog walk but it's nothing more than a scamper for early morning and late evening business.

Herself spots a sign for a picnic area, so we follow it for a bit of an explore.  Bingo!!  A lovely riverside grassed area presents itself where we walk, take in the atmos and throw a ball for Tali, which in turn sort of ruins the atmos for everyone else out for a peaceful late afternoon stroll along the Thames.

Back on site we sit out in the chair for a while blowing the froth off a few cold ones until the midges come out to play and we retreat indoors for a tea of potch, sausages and onion gravy.

Thursday 18 October

Herself didn't have a restful night.  Once the road calmed down the noise from jets approaching Heathrow took over.  Me?  I took my hearing aids out and didn't hear a thing until I put them back in this morning.

After walking the dogs we breakfast on bacon muffins before heading out for the day. Vera's nose gets pointed through the lanes until we reach the village of Turville, better know as Dibley in the TV programme Vicar of Dibley.

It didn't take us long to look around, and we're back on the M40 heading north to the university city of Oxford.  We find somewhere to park up reasonably easy, and upon approaching the Turpin machine we see why ........ £5 for 2 hours.

Academics scurry about the place clutching piles of books trying to look frightfully important and push bikes fly about the place in silence.  This is strange for a city centre.  It is eerily quiet due to lack of traffic, or is there more to it?

We amble around soaking up the atmos, walking through some of the courtyards, and peering through the gates into others that are charging a visitor fee. There is no way I'm paying to look at grass, even if it does belong to Trinity or Sy Johns College.  We take an outside table at the Kings Arms set in the middle of many of the famous colleges.  Their own website proclaims.......

The famous Kings Arms is the oldest pub in Oxford built in 1607 and still standing in its original position. We're quite possibly also the brainiest pub in Oxford too, known for having the highest IQ per square foot of anywhere in the world! Loved by Oxford scholars and tourists alike and renown for fine cask ales, hearty homemade food and our resident ghost. Ali and the team look forward to making you at home.

The only thing I can tell you is that the barman was thick as pig shit and two pints, a bag of crisps and a bag of Biltong cost an awful lot more than they should have.  To add insult to injury, while my back was turned, Herself managed to feed the whole bag on MY Biltong to Tali.  I look up from my phone and he's smacking his chops while giving me the "so what" look.

I've never seen so may push bikes in one place, thousands of them there are, and we lost count of the near misses as we sat people watching.  It starts to make you feel quite dizzy after a time.  Herself isn't happy here, she won't admit it, but I know she isn't.  We head back to Vera and had words.  Well actually I sounded off, Then as luck would have it the batteries on my hearing aids ran out just as Herself was getting her retort in.  I didn't let on.  In actual fact, I didn't let on until we were pulling through the site gates and I dashed into the van to retrieve a spare set.

We park up in Henley and go for a walk along the river.  I'm pretty sure we came across a minor Royal or something, well this old lady out walking her dog was certainly dressed for the part.

We walk as far as The Angel on the Bridge and take a seat on their riverside terrace to enjoy a pint and a sandwich.

River traffic is light.  Just one or two river cruisers plying their trade and coxless pairs, coxed fours doing their bit with their coach hounding them from the comfort of a speed boat alongside!

We return to site and enjoy a few hours outside in the chairs before it gets too cold and we retreat inside for the evening.

Friday 19 October

It got cold over night, very cold, and Herself was making a bit of an issue about it during a nocturnal excursion.  I told her to woman up, which went down well, before discretely turning on the heating at 4.30am myself.

Windsor is prodded into TomTom and we find a spot to park a lot easier than I was expecting.  For £9 we pay Turpin enough to leave Vera under a sign warning of increased thefts from vehicles in the car park, and head on up the hill past all the tat shops.  Interestingly they are still trying to sell off Harry and Meghan crap, but nothing from the other Royal wedding that took place here last week.

If it wasn't for the security seals still on the manholes you'd never know there'd been an event just a few days back.  May be no one was interested?

Herself's knee is screaming at her, so we take a table outside The King and Castle.  I thought nothing of it until I went to use the bog before getting drinks and followed the signs up 3 flights of stairs to a far flung remote part of the building.  A glance at the menu confirmed it just as the manager says "You can't sit there with the dogs."  Yes it was a Weatherspoons, who have recently taken the step of banning dogs from both inside and outside their pubs.  This to me is a very strange stance to take considering the scumbags that they allow to frequent these places.

We move on, trying the ignore the dozens of homeless people dossing down on the pavements, and herself spots some tables outside the Carpenters Arms.

We enjoy a pint with a view of the turrets up the alley next to possibly the wonkiest building I've ever seen.

From here we make or way to the castle.  I've no intention whatsoever of paying an entrance fee and amble over towards the exit on Castle Hill, past the women in ER capes until the guys with guns get twitchy.  I turn around.

Herself gets talking to one of the capes who is kind enough to give s directions to The Great Walk, throwing in that there was also a lovely dog friendly pub by the gates.  This place reeks of money, and to be honest we find it a little obscene in such proximity to so many homeless.

The only other people holding onto leaded dogs appear to be butlers.  My initial observation is that The Great Walk is bloody long and bloody straight.

We grab an outside table at the Two Brewers, a pub that dates back to the early 1700s as a starting point for the rolling stage coaches with fresh horses starting on the journey into London. Drinks and sandwiches are ordered, and as expected I pay a queens ransom at the bar.

Lunch was however very nice, and we get the feeling that dogs are very much a novelty around here as our eating and drinking is frequently interrupted as people stop to make a fuss.  We start to make tracks back, stopping again on Castle Hill to people watch, before taking a riverside table at Mamma Mia's for drinks and ice creams.

We use up all of our £9 worth watching the river traffic and swans fighting over bread before swinging Vera back out onto the highway and heading back to Henley.

We head straight to our usual spot, but do not head upstream this time, we follow the path down stream towards Marsh Lock admiring the riverside property and private launches on the other bank.

It's been a long day out and we're knackered so, via Tesco for stuff, we make tracks back to the van.  Won't be a late one tonight.

Saturday 20 October

It stayed quite warm in the van last night, mainly due to the fact that Herself was later than me diving into our pit, and inadvertently (that's her story and she's sticking to it) forgetting to switch the heating off.  When I get up for a pee at 4.30am Tali is panting for all he's worth, so the door gets flung open to get some rapid ventilation going.  The icy blast wakes Herself and I am now in a world of bother.

Up and at em this morning and with just a mug of tea and a biscuit for breakfast we're scrubbed up and in Vera by 9.30am heading towards High Wycombe and its Eden shopping mall.  Herself wants to pick up some things, and I've still not paid for my outburst in Oxford yet, so agree to go along.

We exit the lifts into a world of pain, shop after shop after bloody shop.  With folding thrown in the direction of GAP, Superdry and Lush, Herself declares that she's done, and suggests finding a pub for lunch.  You could have planted spuds in the trench I left in my wake as I waddled at top speed towards the lifts.

I missed the exit off the roundabout and we went on a not very scenic detour of Buckinghamshire towards London before being able to turn around and head back towards Henley.  Just in time the car park of Hurley House Hotel  comes into view.  The place looks cracking, and a sign declares they are dog friendly.  I've taken a look at their web pages in the week and think I've played a blinder here.

Their web pages wax lyrical ......... "Our menus feature only the freshest of locally-sourced ingredients from Berkshire’s best producers and farmers, while the fish and seafood are brought in directly from Brixham boats daily."

Herself dismisses the idea before I've had the chance to apply Vera's handbrake! A few  miles on and we're spraying chippings in the car park of The Black Boys Inn a little further down the A4130 towards Henley.

A garden table is taken and we enjoy Fish and Chips with a pint while looking over into the distance wondering who important (or just rich) the big white house belongs to.

The food was lovely, if expensive, and I get a clout for asking Herself if she thinks the fish had been raced up from Brixham this morning?

It was an idyllic setting, and the sun was very warm, but there's always something that takes the edge off, isn't there?  Today it's a yank or Canadian woman, not sure which, who decides now would be a good time to read OUT LOUD at top volume, a chapter of Harry Potter from her iphone to her boyfriend and his 9 year old son.  They looked enthralled, they really did, and if it was a first 'family' date and she was trying to befriend the kid, she was failing miserably.

Parking up in Henley we once again follow the Thames path towards London as I want to take a look at Marsh Lock.  We let the dogs run free though the fields before clipping them on their leads to join the path once more and over the foot bridge to the lock

We watch as a family of hoorays take their gin palace through the lock, and to be honest they were lapping up all the admiring glances.  This place reeks of money, it really does and it's a lifestyle I can but only dream of.

As we walk back to the car soaking up the warm October sunshine, it would be fair to say that we'll miss this place, we have thoroughly enjoyed our few days here, and it is on the list to revisit at some point.

Back on site it's time to break camp.  We'd always intended to leave today sometime, but paid until tomorrow so that we could go out for the day today and leave at our leisure, rather that be at the mercy of "Heir In Charge" in being allowed to stay the extra hours.

4.15pm and we've broken camp and are hitched up ready to go.  Towing through Henley on a Saturday afternoon was interesting, but after that the journey home was effortless.  Vera didn't miss a beat, and once on the M4 and in top gear, cruise control was set to 61mph, and there it stayed all the way to the Severn Bridge.

The crossing marked a bit of a moment for us, as it will probably be the last time we have to pass through the toll plaza after making the crossing.  As much as I despise having to hand over the dosh to enter my own country I will miss the adrenaline rush that comes as the barrier lifts and the race is on as 11 lanes merge into 3.

After just 3 1/2 hrs we are pulling up outside "Home-is-where-you-drag-it" Towers, back home after what will probably be our last trip on 2018.  It's been a blast.

Persistently Raining in the Sub Tropical Black Country

It's not that long since we've come back from Cornwall, and a little earlier than usual for our October break, but we wanted to take in the show at the NEC, so dates were dictated.

This month Vera was due to spend a lot of time on The M4, A449, M50 and M5. I've had a meeting for work in Brum and Herself and I attended a wedding in Kidderminster just last weekend, before tracking back up here this weekend with the caravan in tow.

If I'm not careful I'll be jabbering like a local saying stuff like "Yam be bawling now if yam don't go up your own end to play" or "That's bostin that is" or "Yow bin tatting or sumat?" while gorging on Faggots and Peas Balti followed by Lardy Cake - washed down with a pint of mild.

Friday 12 October

@DerekTheWeather and his work of fiction have been dominated by the impending hammering that Storm Callum is going to give us.  Today has not promised to be pretty at all.

Plan B has been developing in my head all week, as an alternative to the open spaces of the M4 A449 M50 and M5, and as I'm sat at my 2nd floor office window looking out at the howling wind and lashing rain the decision is made to take the slower and more protected route up through mid Wales through Brecon and Hereford.

Herself is questioning my sanity via mid morning texts, but what's the worst that could happen eh?

It would be far easier to say that getting hitched up was trouble free, but that would be a lie.  I get home before Herself, and in the howling wind and lashing rain set about getting the van out of the drive.

First job is to drop the security post.  Now the padlock has always been a bit of a pig, but I figured that is it's hard for me it's hard for the pikeys.  Do you think i could open it? Could I bugger!  My efforts resulted in a snapped key in the lock.  Yes I swore, I swore a lot.

The next half hour was not pleasant at all.  Extension lead dragged round from the shed and placed under the van for protection, and an angle grinder gave the shoot bolt and lock the good news for a full half hour while I lay in a torrent of flood water getting soaked through to the bones.

At least the sparks put on a good show for the bloke opposite who was watching from the comfort of his bay window!  Early afternoon, and it's Wagons Roll!

My decision to avoid motorways is confirmed as soon as the wind hits us side on crossing The Loughor and we exit the M4 at J45 and head up the Swansea valley, over Crai into Powys and onto Brecon.

Going is tough, especially over the high ground, but it's still preferable to doing battle with surface spray, side winds and HGVs on the motorway network.

Now I'm not really into this waving to other caravanners thing, but today was different.  There were so few of us on the road braving Callum it seemed rude not to.  Oh look, another nutter!

Incident free, we're pulling into Chapel Lane 4hrs after leaving home.

We've got no food in, so immediately after dropping the legs and giving the dogs a walk we make tracks to the nearby Becketts Farm Shop.   It's got a bit of a reputation this place, but my guess is that it will be full of overpriced food, and for £35 we managed to procure enough groceries to just about cover the bottom of our small basket.

Still reeling from that, after consulting the site details leaflet, Herself informs me that the nearest supermarket is a Sainsburys!!

It's dark by the time we get back and settle down for the night with a curry for tea, before changing into PJs.  Time was getting on and the dogs got disturbed, barking at the stable door.  it was then a head appeared with a cheery "Hello!" A legend of the internet had come to see us, yes, Dougle the biking dog was stood outside our caravan ...... he also had his owner with him, none other that Mr @andrewjditton


Saturday 13 October

It was warm and still overnight, very warm, outside didn't drop below 19 degrees and with 4 of us in the confined space of the van it got quite unbearable at one point.

Herself is still catching up on some zzzz when I go for a shower and then take the dogs for a stretch.  I hate site dog walks covered with leaves, not everyone picks up, and you never know what's lurking.

 

We have breakfast before I throw up our canopy and then start to get ready to go out.  I'm sat up front and there's a break in the clouds with the sun streaming though the window onto my chops, and I'm ashamed to say that I dropped off for a bit of a power nap.

Herself informs me that my snooze fest lasted the best part of 3 hrs and it's approaching 3pm by the time we've got ourselves together to go out for what's left of the day.

We head for Warwick first, and while it had lots of leaning Tudor buildings and stuff it didn't really grab our attention, so we didn't stop and carry on.  Cruising through Stratford we note it's a lot busier and dive down a side street to a car park near an open air market.

Herself clocks the prices on the board and lets me in on the secret that we are paying £3 per hour (or part thereof) for the privilege of abandoning Vera, so the pace of our progress is upped considerably.  Herself is taken by a wooden mobile for Beastie and a pair of earrings for herself, before we leave the market and walk towards the town.

I'm taken aback by a jewellers that has a pair of heavies stood outside and am thankful that Herself showed no interest in the stuff inside.  We round the corner into Shakespearville, where every other building is dedicated to the man that scribbled some shit down on a scrap of paper with a quill.

Herself pops into the Xmas shop and I'm left holding onto the dogs outside what appears to be his birthplace.  I take a bit more interest and clock a woman in period costume inside one of the windows.  I'm quite underwhelmed by it all, and it would appear that I wasn't the only one, as Japanese tourists aimed their DSLRs at the dogs to get some shots of them in their harnesses!

Shakespeared out, and with the clock ticking in the car park, we head back to site, picking up a Chinese for our tea on the way.

Sunday 14 October

It's hammering down when we wake, and the works of fiction are not predicting anything else for the rest of the day, and tomorrow come to that.

Now, Mrs Starbucks always rips into me about the weather whenever she returns to south Wales, always claiming the weather is better up here in the midlands, painting a picture of some sort of sub tropical oasis. Apart from overnight on Friday (and what good is that to anyone) we've seen nothing but rain of varying heaviness since we arrived, so she can pipe down on that front.

By lunchtime cabin fever is starting to set in.  I fire up the weather map in the vein hope that somewhere within 50 miles may be dry.

With that question answered, and the dire risk of conversation breaking out in the van, there's nothing else but to take a spin out and admire the world from behind the comfort of Vera's swishing wipers.

Off we set, in the general direction of the city centre, taking in the delights that Maypole, Kings Heath and Mosely have to offer on the way through.  Herself was impressed, I could tell.  The City Centre presented a wall of traffic and a myriad of road closures due to The Great Birmingham Run taking place.  So after staring at the back of a National Express bus for an eternity, Herself suggests going back.

Many side streets are cruised and many wrong turns are taken, but we get to see the face of Brum that not may people do.  Crackhead streetwalkers are out trying their luck and men stand on the white lines at traffic lights begging.  It was not pretty until we'd cleared Sparkhill on our way out towards the wealthy suburbs of Solihull.

It would be unfair to load the dogs in the boot, drive around, and just head straight back, so we're on the lookout for somewhere to let them out.  Out of the corner of my eye I spot something and make a lane change manoeuvre akin to the one Practical Caravan insist on doing when pretending to test tow cars.

Brueton Park proves to be a bit of a find, and I walk around the lake in my big coat and Mongo hat.  Herself didn't get out.

We get back to site and it stops raining.  The site is busy with new arrivals pouring in by the dozen.  I give the van the good news with a sponge while Herself takes the dogs off for another walk now it won't involve getting wet.  She's not happy on her return though, and is questioning the sanity of some people.

There is a pitch directly adjacent to the dog walk that has remained empty since we arrived, understandably so, but today it has been occupied.  I'm not sure who would choose that pitch when dozens of others remain empty, especially when you have a cat with you?  The poor bloody thing is a nervous wreck.

While washing the van I recognise an outfit that has pulled in behind us, a bright reg Ssangyong 4x4 pulling a Coachman caravan.  I recognise it from the Twitter community and know it belongs to @davidjgbird  , he was on the BBCs Caravanner of the Year TV programme a few years back, not that he likes to mention it at all you know.

Steak and Jacket spuds are eaten while darkness envelops the site for the night and we settle down with the sound of rain hammering on the roof.

Monday 15 October

We wake to the amplified sounds of rain drops hitting a sheet of aluminium stretched over a wooden frame. this is getting beyond a joke now, and I'm getting close to writing a strongly worded e mail to Mrs Starbucks to complain.

Checking out what @DerekTheWeather predicts does nothing to lift the gloom, so it's either get very wet or find something to do indoors.  I dislike the second option as it usually involves parting with money in more quantities than I am comfortable with.

Breakfast was poached eggs on toast, but while I'm having a moan I'll get this one off my chest as well.

Herself was taken in by the packaging on these promising 85% double yolkers no less.  We had one out of the half dozen, and even that was a half arsed effort.  Conning gits.

With the dogs loaded up we take the back roads to Solihull and Brueton Park, where I run their legs off while Herself shelters in Vera from the rain.

With them knackered we press on further over to near the NEC where the delights of Resorts World await.  We abandon Vera in a quiet spot and take the lift down to a world of pain.

Beastie benefits from our visits to Lego Wear, Hamleys and GAP before I get hit by the sucker punch in Clogau.  Lets just say that Herself realised that a quick move to have lunch somewhere was required ASAP to lower my heart rate to an acceptable level.

A window table was taken in TGIs and we look out into the gloom while I devour a crispy duck.

Back to Brueton we head and Herself actually joins me for a walk in the rain, where the dogs get another bloody good run before returning to the caravan for the evening.

8.30pm, it's dark outside but we note that the rain has stopped hammering on the roof.  What bloody good is that to anyone?

Tuesday 16 October

Bloody typical.  On the day that we have a full day of indoor activities we wake to no rain, still we can't change plans as tickets are bought and it was the main (only) reason we've come here.

We're pulling off site by 9am and stop off once again at Brueton Park to run the legs off the dogs.  By 10am the dogs are sleeping soundly in Vera's boot while we join the throngs outside the doors of Hall 12 waiting for the grand opening.

I never seen so many old people move so quickly at one time, and I'm pretty sure that if any council assessors were there watching there would be many a blue badge withdrawn.  We let the piss soaked saga lot fight with the ticket people for a while before we stroll over and walk straight through into hall after hall of Campervan and Motorhome.

We're 4 halls deep before we even spot a caravan, and waste no time in looking around what was on offer, mentally crossing off the ones that didn't tick the boxes.  We got chatting with Shaun and Doug from our local dealership, Ennis Caravans.

Moving onto Bailey we were totally unimpressed with the new Pegassus Grande before a salesman from Stowford made the mistake of taking me for a fool on the potential sale of a Unicorn Cartagena.  We browsed all of the brands, but by now Herself's knee was starting to scream at her, so we retraced our tracks back to Compass to talk numbers with Shaun over a coffee in their VIP area.

We've seen all the vans we want to now, and in all honesty have made our minds up so head for the bar to talk things over while having a pint.

We've been having a lovely day, then it happened.  I caught them out of the corner of my eye, but look the other way in vein hope, but no, we've been spotted and these two reprobates slide up at our table to spoil our day.

Seriously though, after years of interacting online it was very underwhelming to finally get to meet @TheTrudgians and @transit_driver .  Dan is a git though, he knew what he was doing when he did it, and he knew what would happen. £36 Herself splashed out on a Jofli teddy bear for Beastie ....... no I'd never heard of them either.

We'd been in there a lot longer than planned, but the dogs were good as gold.  We take them for a LONG walk before calling into Beech House in Solihull for some overpriced food.

Back on site we round the last corner before our pitching area and a familiar face jumps out of a Unicorn to wave us down.  We've never met, but have been following each other and reading each other's blogs for quite some time.  Lovely to finally meet @stevewills465 and @KarlaB465 and get the opportunity to quiz them on their recent Scottish adventure.

The canopy is dropped in readiness for an easy getaway in the morning before we settle down for the night after a long day as the site goes dark and quiet.