There are a few reasons for this :-
- We've a new tow car to try out.
- We can stay on site for 3 nights for what it would have cost for a hotel for one night.
- Ronnie and Roids have both flown the nest and own their own homes with their significant others. They both work long and late hours, so are unavailable to dog sit for us.
Mind you this trip never nearly happened. The van was plugged in on the weekend and the heating set to tick over to air it out. On Wednesday I'm sat at my desk as other people's castles come crashing down around me, but I'm doing my best to sort it while counting down the hours.
My mobile rings and it's Herself. She is not the bearer of good news. She's been to see her GP, he's taken a look at her numbers and shit his pants. Herself has been dispatched off to the local abattoir to be checked over. The Ayatollah is very understanding and I'm told to just go to spend the afternoon sitting in the relatives room in AMAU ward fretting and reading the posters on the wall about 5000 times.
About 7pm the consultant decides she's wasting their time and Herself is kicked out under instructions to take it easy for a few days with a few boxes of strong smarties to keep her company.
I waste no time in getting the van out and hitched up to Vera Toyah in readiness for an early getaway in the morning.
Thursday 13 December
The 7am getaway didn't happen and it's 8.15am by the time we're sneaking past Vera trying not to look her in the eye (I'm being serious here) and guiltily pulling away in the early morning semi darkness.
Toyah has the grunt and is making light work of throwing the van around the A & B roads of Mid Wales. I'd set myself a challenge, I was trying to get to site without using SatNav. All was going well. AS far as Llandod was a doddle as I do that trip regular. Newtown was cleared and my confidence is building, then it all went tits up in Welshpool, I lost confidence while Herself just gives me one of those "I told you so" looks.
We stop briefly to pick up bacon butties to eat on the move and Toyah eats up the miles on the more open roads as we skirt Wrexham. We've made good time, and at bang on 12 noon we're pulling in through the entrance of the CC Chester Fair Oaks site.
I go to check in, and things don't get off to a good start.
Heir in Charge takes my sir name and looks for my booking on the printed sheet. She finds us, but Mien Fuhrer, who is tapping keys, squints out of the window and scowls at me "That's a different registration number to the one we've been given."
Apparently the fact that it was only last night that we gave up on the DVLA getting their act together cut no mustard.
I'm then asked to produce my membership card. I flash the one that Herself had fished out of her handbag for me. This was not right either. Dressing down #2.
I am then lectured on controlling my speed on site and given the sternest of warnings that not one of my wheels - car or caravan - is to so much as touch a blade of grass. I bite my lip and give a meek OK.
There are loads of pitches spare, which in itself presents a problem to us, as we have difficulty deciding where to wind down the legs. I'm crawling around the site on tick over, and there are slugs shouting at me to get a move on, so i am somewhat perturbed when Mien Fuhrer, from the other side of the window starts flapping his arms and shouting at us to SLOW DOWN. I'm all for slamming on the brakes, getting out and punching him straight in the throat, but Herself doesn't think it would be a good idea and locks the doors.
Pitch chosen, and we can announce to the world that ........ We is arrived!
Herself has a lie down while I pop off to get some shopping. It was in Sainsburys, and I'll not bore you with the pain threshold that I smashed to pay for enough groceries to cover the bottom of the trolley.
A bit further down the road I stumble across an IMO car wash and gave Toyah the good news, washing off the few tonnes of mud on her courtesy of Alan Griffiths & Sons in Welshpool.
Time now to get on with what we came here for. Stage 1 is a visit to Marks & Spencer. It was particularly stress free, apart from handing over a fist full of purple ones for a few bags of assorted garments.
Back on site the van is looking very festive, and at least now it's dark I can avoid the glares of the Gestapo.
Tea is a splendid effort of Rib Eye steaks and we settle down for the long cold evening. Herself with a few bottles of Lady Poison for company and me a gallon of Amstel's finest.
We have a problem though. the van's heater appears to have packed up. I converse with @LeisureMedic on "The Book" and the prognosis isn't good. A fan heater is dug out from under the bed to ensure we spend the night a little warmer than most pensioners relying on a state pension.
Friday 14 December
Didn't have great night last night, woke at 1.30am and the sleep just wouldn't come back until gone 5am. When Herself gave me a dig at 9.15am we realised that our plan to hit the outlet at opening time before the crowds had been derailed.
We have a problem though. the van's heater appears to have packed up. I converse with @LeisureMedic on "The Book" and the prognosis isn't good. A fan heater is dug out from under the bed to ensure we spend the night a little warmer than most pensioners relying on a state pension.
Friday 14 December
Didn't have great night last night, woke at 1.30am and the sleep just wouldn't come back until gone 5am. When Herself gave me a dig at 9.15am we realised that our plan to hit the outlet at opening time before the crowds had been derailed.
I take the dogs over to the dog walk while Herself gets herself beautiful and lights a flame under the kettle and throws a few slices of pig into the pan.
Finding a parking spot was a nightmare, made even more difficult by them having cordoned off 50% for building works!
Herself hates shopping as much as I do, so a whirlwind effort ensues to ensure we're done and dusted in 2 hours and heading back to the van to unload the bags and have a light lunch. The expedition was not incident free however.
No not money related for a change, I was resigned to the purple ones flying out of my wallet, just bearing it through gritted teeth.
I got busted I did, banged to rights. You see, while we were walking around I noticed they had a mock up of Santa's sleigh set up for shoppers to sit in for a photograph opportunity. Very impressive it was with lights everywhere draped over the ornate woodwork, really eye catching it was.
However, Herself is insistent (and will accept no explanations to the contrary) that my eyes were actually paying far too much attention to the pretty young lady who was climbing into the sleigh while wearing a very short leather mini skirt and thigh high boots!
It's a lovely day, if very cold and far too nice to waste sitting indoors, especially after the rain of the last few weeks.
We pile into Toyah and make tracks towards the Queensway tunnel that would take us under The Mersey to Scouceville. Herself isn't happy. She doesn't like tunnels, particularly ones that go under water.
My commentary saying that we are now at the deepest point under the river didn't help, and Toyah's satnav made matters worse by showing Herself exactly where we were!
We emerge into daylight and Herself breathes a sigh of relief. The feeling of relaxation didn't last long though as the traffic is manic. Everyone is driving their cars like they stole it ........... hang on, this is Liverpool we are talking about ......... they probably did.
We veer towards the central reservation and take the road underground once more to the subterranean car park at Liverpool One. Abandoning Toyah we take ages to find our way back to the surface, eventually dragging Tali and Gwawr into the confines of a lift with their claws leaving deep grooves in the expensive looking flooring.
We emerge into the cold and make tracks towards Albert Dock. the place is vibrant and atmosphere is soaked up by the bucket full.
I was on the look out for Fred Talbot and his floating weather map, but then remembered that the fallible fool has been done for kiddie fiddling, so is now confined to a part of history they'd rather not remember down here.
Vehicles have been converted to Street food stalls and line the quay side as we make out way to the river bank.
A sculpture of Billy Fury greets us and I start to belt out one of his hits. Feeling rather proud of myself I was, until Herself crushes my confidence by informing me that he didn't sing that one!
We take a bench by "The Emigrants" along with everyone else, looking out over The Mersey waiting for something to happen the other side of the padlock festooned railings.
All of a sudden we have movement, people get up armed with phones and cameras. Here we are looking across The Mersey and there it appears .... The Ferry Across the Mersey. I burst into song once more in the confidence that not even I can get this one wrong.
Gwawr isn't feeling too well, and we dare not risk walking around the dock with her in front of all the posh bars and eateries for fear of an accident.
We take an outside table right on the quayside at The Pumphouse. I'm dispatched to get drinks while Herself freezes with the dogs. While inside I'm a bit taken aback as some flash git pays for his pint with his watch!!
The heat of the underground car park hits us on our return and we seem to drive for a few miles underground before emerging once more into the throng of joy riders and rush hour traffic.
The Kingsway Tunnel takes us back under the river and spits us out onto the motorway back to site, where I crack on with doing all the outside jobs, getting a few frozen dew drops in the process.
An easy tea of pizza is had as we shut out the freezing cold and settle down for the night after a productive and enjoyable day.
Saturday 15 December
Slept like a corpse last night, straight through from 10.30pm until 5.30am and then not stirring until 9am when Herself gave me a dig in the ribs because the dogs needed to go out.
We're sat eating breakfast and it's not looking too good outside, the wind is howling and it's starting to rain. Apparently Storm Deirdre is on her way.
We've got a bad case of CBA, and it's taking significant dirty looks from both Tali and Gwawr to persuade us to venture out instead of spending the day guzzling tea cwtched up inside.
By the time we venture out it's starting to rain proper and Toyah's wipers are working overtime along the M53 as we head out onto the Wirral.
We suss out the CC site near the country park for future reference and I make to park up up near Dee Sailing Club, where firstly there is no pay and display and secondly there is access to the beach for the dogs to run. Herself is against this idea, and I don't get as far as reaching for the key in the ignition.
We back track a little, and enter the car park behind Flissy Coffee Shop. There are pay and display machines here. My reasoning that it's the middle of December, no one will be about and we are only going to be an hour fell on deaf ears, and I'm dispatched to the Turpin machine to lose some change from my pocket.
Herself is watching intently - from the closeted comfort of Toyah - while I turn sideways and squint at the instructions. I feed enough in to rent a 11.52m2 piece of tarmac for two hours and then as instructed press the green button.
The machine then spits out - literally - my ticket, which the wind then catches, blowing it straight past me and my flapping arms and across the tarmac towards Ireland. £1 is £1 and this is now personal. I set off on a brisk walk which turned into a fast waddle which turned into a flat out waddle.
Every time I got close and started to bend down the gust caught it again. I'm still not giving up though and by the time I caught it I'm the other side of the car park. Triumphant I return to Toyah and for some inexplicable reason, Herself has found the last 5 mins extremely funny. Such is the height of her amusement she is on the point of wetting herself.
We don't bother clipping the dogs on as there's no one else about, and join the Wirral Way in the direction of West Kirby.
It's cold, wet and windy, but the dogs are enjoying the freedom of a good run, we note that the CC site has direct access to this trail for future reference and we plod on as far as we dare.
Turning around, we are now walking into the wind, and the going is a little more difficult. It starts to rain again and we're about a mile from Toyah. My cheeks are already rosy red with the wind, but start to sting as the horizontal rain hits them square on.
Back in Toyah the heating is cranked up as we head back in the direction of Chester. We take a spin through the City Centre, but there are queues at the entrance to every car park, and to be honest we're really not the enthused about getting cold and wet once more, so head back to the van to have a late lunch and chill time.
Storm Deirdre seems to be getting closer and the heavy showers are getting heavier and more frequent. herself is starting to moan that she can't hear her TV over the noise it's making as it hammers on our roof. We didn't venture back out, even Gwawr was more than happy to cwtch up and ride out the storm.
A good old fashioned winter evening was had in the van sheltering from the elements as Dierdre did her best and debris of assorted sizes fell onto the van roof from the trees behind. Very enjoyable it was too ..... except for one thing ............. I ran out of beer.
Been a quiet and relaxing day today, Nos Dda
Sunday 16 December
Up early this morning and I was sat in the van waiting for it to be late enough to go out side and start to break camp. We're keen to get an early start, so as not to waste the day, and hopefully Beastie will come visiting this afternoon.
Herself walks the dogs and hands in our key fob while I hitch up and we're ready to roll at 8.30am.
Toyah is impressing me, and I start to play with the auto box as we climb over the mountain road between Newtown and Llandrindod Wells, first trying sports mode then tiptronic. We are eating the miles up keeping a good pace on the empty roads.
Though a more challenging tow through Mid Wales, it far more scenic than taring down the motorway network, and at 143 miles door to door it is 85 miles shorter as well.
All was going well, we cleared Llandrindod Wells and got as far as Beulah near Llanwrtyd when a strategically placed road sign tells us that the road is closed 10 miles ahead and we are to be diverted. I immediately call up the road map of Mid and South Wales in my head and my heart sinks.
We've already been towing some time and have just 43 miles to go. The considerable detour through Builth Wells, Brecon then over Crai and down the Swansea Valley adds 27 miles (and 45 mins)
to our journey. Fuming I was, bloody fuming.
We've had a lovely trip, so much more relaxing than our usual dart up, one night stop and dart back. I think it's safe to say that't it now for 2018. See you all on the other side.
Finding a parking spot was a nightmare, made even more difficult by them having cordoned off 50% for building works!
Herself hates shopping as much as I do, so a whirlwind effort ensues to ensure we're done and dusted in 2 hours and heading back to the van to unload the bags and have a light lunch. The expedition was not incident free however.
No not money related for a change, I was resigned to the purple ones flying out of my wallet, just bearing it through gritted teeth.
I got busted I did, banged to rights. You see, while we were walking around I noticed they had a mock up of Santa's sleigh set up for shoppers to sit in for a photograph opportunity. Very impressive it was with lights everywhere draped over the ornate woodwork, really eye catching it was.
However, Herself is insistent (and will accept no explanations to the contrary) that my eyes were actually paying far too much attention to the pretty young lady who was climbing into the sleigh while wearing a very short leather mini skirt and thigh high boots!
It's a lovely day, if very cold and far too nice to waste sitting indoors, especially after the rain of the last few weeks.
We pile into Toyah and make tracks towards the Queensway tunnel that would take us under The Mersey to Scouceville. Herself isn't happy. She doesn't like tunnels, particularly ones that go under water.
My commentary saying that we are now at the deepest point under the river didn't help, and Toyah's satnav made matters worse by showing Herself exactly where we were!
We emerge into daylight and Herself breathes a sigh of relief. The feeling of relaxation didn't last long though as the traffic is manic. Everyone is driving their cars like they stole it ........... hang on, this is Liverpool we are talking about ......... they probably did.
We veer towards the central reservation and take the road underground once more to the subterranean car park at Liverpool One. Abandoning Toyah we take ages to find our way back to the surface, eventually dragging Tali and Gwawr into the confines of a lift with their claws leaving deep grooves in the expensive looking flooring.
We emerge into the cold and make tracks towards Albert Dock. the place is vibrant and atmosphere is soaked up by the bucket full.
I was on the look out for Fred Talbot and his floating weather map, but then remembered that the fallible fool has been done for kiddie fiddling, so is now confined to a part of history they'd rather not remember down here.
Vehicles have been converted to Street food stalls and line the quay side as we make out way to the river bank.
A sculpture of Billy Fury greets us and I start to belt out one of his hits. Feeling rather proud of myself I was, until Herself crushes my confidence by informing me that he didn't sing that one!
We take a bench by "The Emigrants" along with everyone else, looking out over The Mersey waiting for something to happen the other side of the padlock festooned railings.
All of a sudden we have movement, people get up armed with phones and cameras. Here we are looking across The Mersey and there it appears .... The Ferry Across the Mersey. I burst into song once more in the confidence that not even I can get this one wrong.
Gwawr isn't feeling too well, and we dare not risk walking around the dock with her in front of all the posh bars and eateries for fear of an accident.
We take an outside table right on the quayside at The Pumphouse. I'm dispatched to get drinks while Herself freezes with the dogs. While inside I'm a bit taken aback as some flash git pays for his pint with his watch!!
The heat of the underground car park hits us on our return and we seem to drive for a few miles underground before emerging once more into the throng of joy riders and rush hour traffic.
The Kingsway Tunnel takes us back under the river and spits us out onto the motorway back to site, where I crack on with doing all the outside jobs, getting a few frozen dew drops in the process.
An easy tea of pizza is had as we shut out the freezing cold and settle down for the night after a productive and enjoyable day.
Saturday 15 December
Slept like a corpse last night, straight through from 10.30pm until 5.30am and then not stirring until 9am when Herself gave me a dig in the ribs because the dogs needed to go out.
We're sat eating breakfast and it's not looking too good outside, the wind is howling and it's starting to rain. Apparently Storm Deirdre is on her way.
We've got a bad case of CBA, and it's taking significant dirty looks from both Tali and Gwawr to persuade us to venture out instead of spending the day guzzling tea cwtched up inside.
By the time we venture out it's starting to rain proper and Toyah's wipers are working overtime along the M53 as we head out onto the Wirral.
We suss out the CC site near the country park for future reference and I make to park up up near Dee Sailing Club, where firstly there is no pay and display and secondly there is access to the beach for the dogs to run. Herself is against this idea, and I don't get as far as reaching for the key in the ignition.
We back track a little, and enter the car park behind Flissy Coffee Shop. There are pay and display machines here. My reasoning that it's the middle of December, no one will be about and we are only going to be an hour fell on deaf ears, and I'm dispatched to the Turpin machine to lose some change from my pocket.
Herself is watching intently - from the closeted comfort of Toyah - while I turn sideways and squint at the instructions. I feed enough in to rent a 11.52m2 piece of tarmac for two hours and then as instructed press the green button.
The machine then spits out - literally - my ticket, which the wind then catches, blowing it straight past me and my flapping arms and across the tarmac towards Ireland. £1 is £1 and this is now personal. I set off on a brisk walk which turned into a fast waddle which turned into a flat out waddle.
Every time I got close and started to bend down the gust caught it again. I'm still not giving up though and by the time I caught it I'm the other side of the car park. Triumphant I return to Toyah and for some inexplicable reason, Herself has found the last 5 mins extremely funny. Such is the height of her amusement she is on the point of wetting herself.
We don't bother clipping the dogs on as there's no one else about, and join the Wirral Way in the direction of West Kirby.
It's cold, wet and windy, but the dogs are enjoying the freedom of a good run, we note that the CC site has direct access to this trail for future reference and we plod on as far as we dare.
Turning around, we are now walking into the wind, and the going is a little more difficult. It starts to rain again and we're about a mile from Toyah. My cheeks are already rosy red with the wind, but start to sting as the horizontal rain hits them square on.
Back in Toyah the heating is cranked up as we head back in the direction of Chester. We take a spin through the City Centre, but there are queues at the entrance to every car park, and to be honest we're really not the enthused about getting cold and wet once more, so head back to the van to have a late lunch and chill time.
Storm Deirdre seems to be getting closer and the heavy showers are getting heavier and more frequent. herself is starting to moan that she can't hear her TV over the noise it's making as it hammers on our roof. We didn't venture back out, even Gwawr was more than happy to cwtch up and ride out the storm.
A good old fashioned winter evening was had in the van sheltering from the elements as Dierdre did her best and debris of assorted sizes fell onto the van roof from the trees behind. Very enjoyable it was too ..... except for one thing ............. I ran out of beer.
Been a quiet and relaxing day today, Nos Dda
Sunday 16 December
Up early this morning and I was sat in the van waiting for it to be late enough to go out side and start to break camp. We're keen to get an early start, so as not to waste the day, and hopefully Beastie will come visiting this afternoon.
Herself walks the dogs and hands in our key fob while I hitch up and we're ready to roll at 8.30am.
Toyah is impressing me, and I start to play with the auto box as we climb over the mountain road between Newtown and Llandrindod Wells, first trying sports mode then tiptronic. We are eating the miles up keeping a good pace on the empty roads.
Though a more challenging tow through Mid Wales, it far more scenic than taring down the motorway network, and at 143 miles door to door it is 85 miles shorter as well.
All was going well, we cleared Llandrindod Wells and got as far as Beulah near Llanwrtyd when a strategically placed road sign tells us that the road is closed 10 miles ahead and we are to be diverted. I immediately call up the road map of Mid and South Wales in my head and my heart sinks.
We've already been towing some time and have just 43 miles to go. The considerable detour through Builth Wells, Brecon then over Crai and down the Swansea Valley adds 27 miles (and 45 mins)
to our journey. Fuming I was, bloody fuming.
We've had a lovely trip, so much more relaxing than our usual dart up, one night stop and dart back. I think it's safe to say that't it now for 2018. See you all on the other side.
