What do you get an 86 year old man for Christmas? This is a question Herself gave up trying to answer a few years back. Grumbles doesn't need or want anything, except that is for company, so Herself decided that every year we shall take him away for a Holiday on us ..... low season of course!!
Monday 9 March
Herself had instructed Grumbles to make sure he had a breakfast in Y Bocs Bwyd before we picked him up at 9.30am, and we're accelerating up the slip road at J48 in the rain shortly after. Herself and I are both wishing that progress was somewhat less swift with our caravan behind us but C'est las Vie.
An uneventful journey sees us pulling up to the barrier and a wall of blue vests at Haven's Weymouth Bay site some 3 hours later. Check in isn't until 1pm, but the van is ready and we're instructed to head on over, after being given our sacred window hanger for the car.
I vow to have words later though, as everyone knows it's "We is Arrived".
After unpacking Herself throws together a few corned beef butties for lunch before we head off out.
Abandoning Trude in a free blue badge bay on Weymouth's front we clip on the dogs and cross the road onto the beach. The dogs enjoy the open space to have a stretch and head straight for the English Channel like it's July and not March.
It's 11 degrees, but Grumbles isn't feeling it, moaning to Herself that it's cold. Herself gets the ick telling me we're here for a week and he'd better not be moaning all the time we're here. A lesson is on her mind and she makes tracks for a beachside cafe, The Boat, taking an outside table - there were no other kind - for refreshments.
It was pleasant enough, not really cold at all. Having been recently admonished Grumbles huddles round his latte in silence.
Back in Trude I point her south and we pass Chesil Beach crossing over onto the Isle of Portland, which for me working in the construction industry is most famous for quarried stone and cement. I've never been there, but it puts me in mind of Gibraltar as we thread our way through the congested streets of the town itself.
We carry on to the southern most tip of the island to where Portland Bill sits, a 41m lighthouse that protects the busy channel shipping lanes in these parts. Grumbles missed the scenery as he was having a power nap.
There's no Turpin machine in the car park here, just a sign warning of APNR CCTV in operation and a QR code that takes you to an app to pay. This is fine, except we are in a location with zero phone signal, let alone 4G that would enable us to use the app.
Herself wanders around waving her Samsung in the air trying to get at least a bar but is getting increasingly frustrated. Grumbles senses the danger and takes himself off to stare out into The English Channel for some time, a long time in fact and at one point I did wonder if he was considering a Reggie Perrin!
Herself is still getting no joy and is about the lose her shit with her phone. I take a wander over the the restaurant to see if they have a license to serve alcohol and they allow digs inside. It's a yes to both, and there's also a sign taped to the door saying that "If the app is fucked pay for parking in the shop." Well it wasn't those exact words, but that was the just of it.
We take a window seat and Herself simmers down, she also feels sorry for Grumbles and me and orders us a piece of Dorset Apple Cake to go with our refreshments.
With peace restored we wander back down towards bill, happy to note that he's closed today and we don't need to make excuses not to climb the 150 steps to the top.
The trip off the island and through Weymouth in rush hour wasn't very pleasant, and I'll avoid it if at all possible for the rest of the week. Grumbles slept.
Not long until thoughts of an evening meal occupy our minds. Trip Advisor reviews of the onsite restaurant are not great to be honest, in fact they're dire, and from our experiences at Haven we know The Marsh & Barrel can be hit and miss.
Trude's not going anywhere else today so we clip on the dogs and take a chance. The place is quiet, very quiet, but I think it's only week 1 or 2 of the season here. I'm dismayed to see both the Madri and Stella taps covered up, and looking around I don't see anyone drinking Guinness (always a sign to avoid) so Carling it is.
The food came quickly, and very nice it was too, all of us enjoying our meals. I'm on my chin straps though after a long day, so it's not too late when we're retracing our steps to Windsor #14 to get changed into Pjs and settle down for the evening.
Grumbles gets lost in Codebreaker, I tapped some keys and Herself watched shit on TV.
Tuesday 10 March
Good night's sleep considering it was in a strange bed, and Herself and I are both up by 7.30am, Grumbles about an hour later looking a bit edgy as he's not been presented with his breakfast within 10 mins of rising.
He fires out his order and Herself curtly reminds him that he hasn't just walked in through the door of his regular cafe.
Suitable chastised, he sits back and hoovers up course 1 in the shape of 2 Weetabix patiently awaiting course 2, afraid to say anything further!
We leave him get dressed and take the dogs for a walk around the site, before piling into Trude to head off out for the day.
We're heading for the Isle of Purbeck and to the town Swanage. The scenery again is quite something and driving through Corfe Castle has us thinking how much it costs to live in these parts. Grumbles slept his breakfast off for the duration.
We parked up in the car park belonging to The Pier Trust, following the coastal path alongside Monkey Beach as far as The Square before diverting onto Institute Rd.
Grumbles was walking ahead and a group of school kids were loitering on a corner clip boards in hand. One approached Grumbles, and I don't know what he said to the young lad, but he looked suitably dejected by the rebuke, leading to Herself approaching him, apologising and offering to take part in the survey.
Grumbles stood 20 yards in front looking very frustrated that Herself was taking part and delaying him from doing whatever he wanted to do! Herself took her time!
Grumbles happens across a toy shop selling model cars and loses himself in there for quite some time before coming out empty handed!
We take the dogs down onto the beach, throwing a ball for Gwen that I'd just been stiffed £2.50 for in the shop, before making an about turn at the beach kiosk.
Herself spots some tables outside The Cellar Bar and we stop to rest weary ancient legs and partake in some refreshments.
There then followed a bit of a charade. We retraced our steps back down Institute Rd, Herself gets a "Benefit Stick" bought for her and Grumbles disappears into the toy shop for the second time. He comes out again empty handed but is uneasy.
Turns out he wanted Herself to talk him into buying a toy car. She loses her shit with him and tells him to do what he wants and we'll wait in The Ship Inn for him. He joins us and has bought one car. He's still uneasy though and eventually fesses that he fancied more but they were £1 more than what he'd usually pay for them.
After Herself losing her shit once more he trudges off and comes back with 2 more cars...... and a catalog, the shop keeper now smelling the money!
That's the last conversation Herself and I had out of him for quite some time. Grumbles immersed himself in the catalog and I immersed myself in a serving of whitebait.
Time to leave and Herself delivered the ultimatum, warning of dire consequences if he uttered any regrets about not buying all the cars he wanted.
He trots off back down Institute Rd for a 4th visit to the toy shop!!
After all that effort he has a better step count that us today thus far and embarks on some personal contemplation time as we exit Swanage and back off the Isle, through Corfe Castle and back towards Weymouth.
Moan button on ..... Before coming down we filled Trude up at home at 141.9p per litre. On approaching Weymouth yesterday we noted how much more expensive it was, averaging 154.9p. This morning on the way to Swanage we noticed the garages were charging 169.9p, except one near Corfe Castle which was 145.9p. We pulled in but all diesel pumps covered and a sign saying no diesel until later. Not to worry, we're coming back this way, except when we passed just a few hours later the git wanted 165.9p! ...... Moan button off.
We take a detour down to Lulworth Cove, never been but heard or read lots about it. Parking up we make the decision to eschew the path up to the vantage point to see Durdle Door. Pictures on the internet will do!
First port of call is the visitor's centre, where Herself stops to fill bags of Pirate Treasure for Beastie and Bwmps.
With that task out of the way we follow the gentle slope down that leads to Lulworth Cove itself. What a beautiful spot.
Back on site we chill for a bit before heading out once more to the Marsh and Barrel for an evening meal. Very good it was again too, and before long we're back at the van in the warmth and Grumbles is able to enjoy his new toy car collection.
Wednesday 11 March
Awkward night's kip last night, kept falling into a dip in the bed, but woke to the sun streaming through gaps in the curtains. Got up and lifted the mattress to see that my side of the bed has 2 slats missing.
Grumbles is up and has a coffee ready for everyone, course 1 of breakfast is served while he cooks course 2 is finger tapping waiting on Herself to get her arse into gear and present him with his breakfast.
After showers, for some of us, we head off out for the day, following the roads down onto the Isle of Purbeck once more. Approaching Corfe Castle we are mildly excited as the sight of a Tank in the road coming towards us. Grumbles missed it as he was sleeping.
The plan was to walk the dogs on Shell Bay, but Herself did a bit of Googling en route and it is apparent that access to the beach is a 5 min walk on soft sand through the dunes. Her knackered knees do not appreciate soft sand so that idea is kicked into touch. The car park was also full, so we join the queue for the Sandbanks Ferry.
Alighting the other side we're in a different world, often dubbed "Millionaire's Playground" or "Britain's Palm Beach" with properties lining the roadside that have price tags in millions rather than thousands.
We make our way to Boscombe and Undercliff Road to use the beach. Access was fraught as they now have a 2.1m height barrier at the pier end. Motorhomes and Van Lifers really have spoilt it with inconsiderate behavior and attitudes to others. We got Trude under with considerable care as herself got out and guided me forward - very slowly - with just an inch to spare.
Parking up and Herself purchases an all day ticket as we plan to park further along and look around Bournemouth Pier later.
The dogs enjoy a good run in and out of the water while Grumbles has a moan about how cold the wind is. With that done we head further along Undercliff Rd, but our plans are thwarted as the road is closed off to traffic some considerable distance from Bournemouth Pier.
Herself has a Blue Badge for good reason, and managing her condition means a rethink of plans. We retrace our tracks, taking extreme care once again at the exit barrier. I know they both said 2.1m but....
My plan was to park on Bath Rd just above Harry Ramsdens, but my heart sank on seeing a 2m height barrier guarding the entrance. A few circuits and we happen across the car park outside Bournemouth Pavillion Theatre. It's closer to the pier, but also a lot higher, we may have been better staying on Undercliff Rd where it was at least a walk on the flat!
While I was at the Turpin machine Herself was approached by a young homeless man, begging for any scraps of food or a few coins. She didn't have anything on her, only doggy treats. He said he'd contemplate them, he was that hungry.
Herself was stumped, he'd caught her off guard while I was at the machine and Grumbles was still sat in Trude, delaying his exit until the very latest moment. We don't give money to homeless as you never know if it'll be spent on substance abuse, and what Herself would have done was to pop over to Wagamama and purchased a few meal deals for him, but he was gone, not hanging around for further indignity.
It played on Herself's mind for the rest of the day.
We drop down through the Lower Gardens towards the big wheel, passed more homeless kipping on the floor under the bridge. The contrast is stark, and really quite grotesque, just a few minutes drive away is Millionaire's Playground while here it's sleeping bag city.
We turn right and follow W Undercliff Promenade for a while until we realise everything is closed. One arcade has a shutter up and I chat to the owner who advises there's nowhere that way to sit down and have a drink, so we turn around back towards the pier.
Much debate ensued until I gave up the will to live and followed the signs to Aruba in the Pier Approach building. Getting up to it was via a few flights of steps. Herself grits her teeth and climbs them one by one, grimacing with every riser.
We take a window seat and watch on as a young girl applying a lick of paint in readiness for the season clatters a set of steps into a gig screen TV pulling it from its mountings!
On the way back out I'm admonished by Grumbles for not spotting a sign on the way in advising that if you wanted to use the lift to speak to the staff - up three flights of stairs - and that I could have saved both him and Herself the effort of climbing said stairs.
I'm still simmering when we get outside and start to discuss lunch. Grumbles doesn't want Fish and Chips from Ramsdens as the fish he had last night gave him heartburn, he doesn't want a sausage roll to eat on a bench looking out to sea, and he's not walking to the end of the pier!
My belly is rumbling and temper fraying. I feel sorry for Herself as she can see it coming and can't do anything about it, so I bite my lip on my frustration and we head back up the slope towards Trude.
At the top of the slope Herself's eye caught something and she makes tracks towards it. Grumbles shouts of "Oh, where are you going now?" were roundly ignored as she take a look at The Cooper-Thomson Rescue Aviary.
Herself suggests moving on somewhere so we fight our way through the traffic towards Poole Quay. Parking again was an issue with height barriers, but we find what looks like a bit of abandoned land behind the closed down Poole Quay Hotel. What purports to be a car park is guarded by CCTV and signs warning of dire consequences if no payment is made. All the Turpin machines have either been kicked over by local hoodlums or have been blacked out.
Herself struggles with the app for quarter of an hour before we are able to set off and wonder which Gin Palace we will buy with last night's Euromillions win.
A few cafes have outside tables in the sunshine, but it's only 13 degrees and Grumbkes is worried about frostbite so those are bypassed. The Lord Nelson has a sign outside welcoming dogs so we head on in to the really friendly and welcoming establishment for a VERY late lunch.
We hit rush hour on the way back to site, Grumbles slept, with the very intention of not venturing back out today. Herself had decided on a night in with a takeaway.
Come 6.30pm and she's had enough, mainly down to there being nothing on TV to watch, and is hinting strongly at going out. The Marsh and Barrel is also very welcoming once more, which is odd for Haven establishments, and we sit down with drinks.
In-between staring at the tennis on the giant screen, and despite having had lunch just 2 hours ago, Grumbles does a very poor impression at not being hungry, he kept picking up the menu, having a read and then huffing in Herself's direction repeatedly!
Food was had, despite 2 of us not being hungry at all, before Herself and Grumbles shoot off to the arcade to spend some 2p on the falls.
Full on day today and we're all in bed early again. Rock 'n' Roll.
Thursday 12 March
We wake to grey skies this morning and it doesn't look like rain is far away. Grumbles got up once, clocked that Herself was not yet up so there would be a breakfast delay, and retired back to his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed until he could smell the frying pan warming up.
Last night while browsing Google Maps I could see that we have a White Horse nearby, but was puzzled as we've been that way numerous times this week and not seen it. Setting off for the day that's our first destination. Two things are noted as we arrive. Firstly due no doubt to inconsiderate Van Lifers there is a 1.85m height barrier blocking the car park entrance and secondly the white horse is no longer white, more like a paler shade of green than the hillside it's cut into.
We view from outside the circle of trust and move on.
Heading south once more with Grumbles sleeping until we reach Bovington and the Tank Museum. We'd paid in advance to take advantage of the 15% discount so the entry process was just flashing a QR code.
I won't bore you with a detailed commentary here, or pictures of the 300 or so tanks on display here, but after a few hours we're all tanked out and retreat to the restaurant via the Trenches to take a break, fighting with the wankers on a corporate day out for a bite to eat and table space.
Over lunch, and while I was out of earshot, Grumbles fessed to Herself that he'd rather like to return to the toy shop in Swanage having perused the catalogue for a few nights.
We take advantage of the free disabled bays on Mermond Place, we'd not exited Trude when a Traffic Warden waddles up the hill as fast as her stumps would carry her checking out Trude's dash for the treasured blue badge.
Grumbles sets off to the toy shop while Herself and I head for the beach with the dogs, arranging to rendezvous later outside the Cellar Bar for coffee.
We've seen enough of the scenery on the return route over the last couple of days, but the monotony was eased by the sight of a steam train on the track at Corfe Castle. GRUMBLES WAS AWAKE.
Back at the van a decision needs to be made about an evening meal. We could go back up to The Marsh & Barrel, something I would have gladly done as it means no driving duties and the ability to have a few pints with the meal. Grumbles however has other ideas as he finds the menu quite limiting for his tastes (and lack of teeth), having had a Chicken Tikka for 2 out of our 3 nights there.
I fire up the menu of a local pub and read through it highlighting stuff like cottage pie that he likes and would manage to eat. All agreed and I book a dog friendly table. It took some time to get seated but we are eventually led to a table right in the far corner, suited us fine.
After some time perusing the menu Grumbles decides on .......... Chicken Tikka Masala!!!! Herself is about to lose her shit once more, and it takes a full glass of Sauv before she calms down.
Friday 13 March
We're up, packed, loaded and on the road by 8.15am. Herself didn't want the palaver of of having to cook breakfast and clean up the kitchen again before leaving. Grumbles bottom lip did a bit of a quiver when informed of this, but threw a couple of nectarines down his neck while we cleaned the rest of the van prior to departure.
He'd been promised breakfast enroute, but after about 30 miles of motoring he's starting to get edgy in the back seat, clearing his throat regular to remind us he's sat there.
I spot a set of Golden Arches at Chard and do a quick lane change before dashing in to procure 3 x breakfast meals, and pressing on to eat on the move.
After 3 uneventful, and frankly boring hours we're dropping Grumbles and his toy cars off at his and unloading Trude outside ours.
Great little trip down to Dorset, and we hardly got wet. We've been on a few Haven sites now, and this one is probably our favorite so far.
Not long now until the next time out, Coachman in tow for that one though!
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