Keeping Hydrated is the Key to Survival when It's Hot, it's Damn Hot

Whilst it's nice to get away early for your main summer break, and avoiding the mayhem of peak season, it makes the summer at home a very long one.

Upshot of the Grenfell disaster and subsequent inquiries is that I now have to get re qualified and prove my competence to do a job that I've been doing  for 27 years.  This means I've been chained to my laptop every Wednesday throughout the summer attending "school" making trips away difficult.

Shopping list was ...

1. Five nights Thursday to Tuesday
2. Not too far because fuel still far too expensive (150 miles max)
3. Two adults and three dogs under £40 per night (this was more difficult than it sounded).
4. B&B accommodation nearby for Grumbles
5. Pub within staggering distance

After a few stressful evenings sat in front of the laptop, and a cry for help on Twitter, we settled on a site we've been to 3 times previously, but only in winter.

The trip was touch and go mind. Monday 1st August sees me turning over awkwardly on my foot out the unmade back lane.  I heard a snap and felt instant searing pain on the side of my right foot.  Took some anti inflammatories and went to bed hoping for a miracle by morning.

It didn't happen and I couldn't out my foot to the floor without wincing.  A 5 hour trip to A&E reveals no fractures, but I've buggered up a ligament attached to the 5th Metatarsal.  It's not until after 6 days of ice treatment, compression and lots of pink tablets that I felt confident enough to pay the overdue balance  on the booked pitch.

Thursday 11 August

Departure day, and in the words of the late great Robyn Williams, "It's hot, it's damn hot!!"

After finishing work yesterday it was far to hot to even consider loading Toyah and the van up, so the plan was to get up ridiculously early this morning to load up before the day started warming up.  That didn't happen.  Upstairs was like a furnace last night and I tossed and turned in the heat until exhaustion took over at 4.30am.

Herself gave me a nudge at 7am and we set about loading up.  Toyah has been parked out the back lane since Cornwall and the (ex)Captain has had some building work done that involved the use of a disc cutter, and she's in a sorry state, so gets the good news with a jet wash when she's filled up with fuel.

9am and I'm getting abuse from all directions as I inch the van out onto the road to be hitched up.  That too is in dire need of a wash.  I didn't wash her before going to Cornwall, or North Wales, so she's got over 800 miles worth of road grime on her in addition to the normal stuff that you associate with living on a main road!!  Off to the jet wash she's towed to get £8 worth of good news.

10am, and with a sparkly clean rig I'm shouting out to social media "Wagons Roll!!!!"

We've not been on the M4 for long and hit a wall of tail lights at J47 due to a lane closure.  Thankfully we've cleared the issue by J45 and are cruising the tarmac eastwards in blistering heat.  Luckily the wheels didn't stop turning until we rocked up at the gates of Tudor Caravan Park at just gone noon, and a wall of heat slapped us in the face as we opened to doors.

I won't lie to you though, setting up and pegging out (it's amazing how much attention that phrase got on social media following the alleged antics and sexual preferences of the heir to the throne) was an arduous task.  It's hot, it's damn hot, and many drinks breaks are required before we can announce that "We is arrived!"

The rest of the afternoon is spent sitting down doing nothing, that's right, ziltch, zippo, until 3pm when Herself takes Grumbles over to the lodge so he can check into his accommodation for the next few days.  They come back grinning, he's pleased with it, very pleased, it's quite luxurious and is a vast improvement on where he stayed in Cornwall where he was put in what appeared to be their junk room!

We sit around for a bit on their return but by 4.30pm we're all starving and adjourn to the Tudor Arms to blow the froth off a few cold ones and demolish a large cod and chips each.

We spent a delightful evening in the courtyard, chatting and missing people who would also have enjoyed if they'd still been with us in  more than spirit. Grumble's room tab gets a hammering as he insists the evening is on him.  He's in for a shock when he checks out at the end of the break.

BTW I've never seen such a big key fob, and I'm sure it was used by a Mistress as a paddle at some point in a previous life!

Back at the van we sit out under the stars for a while as, thankfully, the temperature drops a little.  Herself leaves me sleeping resting my eyes on the recliner and goes inside to watch a bit of TV.  I'm dreading going to bed, but am pleasantly surprised at midnight when on going inside it is apparent that the 4 fans and the  van' s Truma set to vent at full blast has done wonders and the inside in pleasantly cool.

Friday 12 August

Good morning Vietnam Slimbridge. It's hot, it's damn hot.

Great night's kip last night and I waste no time in setting up the griddle to get breakfast on the go alfresco.  I swear there's no better way to start the day and wouldn't holiday any other way either out of choice.

Grumbles rocks up some time later with egg yolk dripping down his chin, taking delight in informing me that he's had a full breakfast, even rubbing his full belly and bringing over a copy of the breakfast menu for me to peruse!

Sitting around after a breakfast of bacon and sausage butties I start to ask for ideas for a day out, but am met with silence.  I even went over to the information room grabbing a fist full of leaflets.  No ideas were forthcoming.

Heading out I first point Toyah's nose towards Tetbury, it looked quite nice when we towed through there back in November.  Herself is unimpressed (but to be fair there was no shade on either side of the road) so I do a U turn by the undercover market and head towards Cirencester on the A433.

Cotswold airport is the first port of call, where Herself initially declares she's not getting out.  Going to be one of those days is it?

By the time Grumbles has come back after watching a few light aircraft take off, she's changed her mind and make our way over to the viewing area avoiding un-grassed areas.

I missed the one scheduled take off for the next hour while having a pee!! The outside seating area has no shade whatsoever and it's far too hot to sit with the dogs so we head to The Thames Head Pub for a spot of lunch and a drink.  While sat there we notice that the building at the pinch point access to the caravan site has taken a fair old clout since our visit in November.  Maybe now they'll do something about widening it!

Next stop is Bibury.  We came here in the gloom of November but fancied seeing it in under blue skies.  It's rammed and we take 3 drive throughs before a parking spot becomes free.  Herself declares that I'd never parallel park Toyah in there.  Challenge accepted, and after much shuffling moving from lock to lock on the steering wheel we are in and the dogs are jumping in the adjacent River Coln.

It wasn't too long until panic ensued though.  No pictures because we were flapping too much.  A swan that had been in hiding on the other bank decides it wants to become territorial all of a sudden.  Despite our frantic calling, the dogs can't get out as the steps are too high above the water.  Grumbles decides he's the one to rescue them for some reason and spent what seemed like an eternity trying to get them out.  He's 82 mind, and while in good nick for his age, even if he could bend down that far he wouldn't have the strength to fish them out by their collars.

By now we have an audience, who assume we let the dogs in the water to harass the Ninja swan.  Herself resorted to yelling at Grumbles "Just get out of the way will you!"  By now Ninja Swan is acting like it's had an afternoon on the Strongbow in Porthcawl, intent on attacking the dogs.  I'm bricking it and I chance my arm grabbing for collars while the lunging neck and beak attack.  I succeeded much to the disgust of the shaking and tutting heads stood on the footpath above.

At least the dogs are cool as we walk towards Arlington Row and then hang a right to walk in the shade up towards the river crossing and the welcoming beer garden of The Swan Hotel, where we take a table next to a couple, him a rather nerdy looking late 50s gent, her a rather attractive oriental woman, dressed all in pink, heavily made up and some (at least) 25 years his junior.  He's rather attentive and she;s rather clingy.  It's obvious to all others in the beer garden that he's recently heavily invested in the "internet bride" market!

We head back to site, stopping briefly in Cam to pick up some provisions and a big storage box.  On the pitch I make a dent in my Strongbow stash and Gwawr enjoys some splash time with the storage box filled with water.

Strongbow in the sun sends me to sleep and by 6pm Grumbles and Herself are starving and Herself is throwing stuff at me to bring me around so we can adjourn to the pub for tea.

Hydration is the key to survival in this weather,and Uncle Stowford takes over where Mr Strongbow left off.

After our meal, on the key fob again, we decide it'll be cheaper to go back to the van for a drink.

We're stat there and Herself remarks that our awning light flickered. I ignored her.  10 mins later and she's says it again, obviously not bothered enough to investigate it herself.  I get up to have a look.  I flick the light on and off and it works fine.  Shrugging my shoulders I turn round and in the gloom I see that the kitchen tap is running, slowly, but it's running.

We've got a chopping board that covers the sink, so the running water has nowhere to go, apart from along the work top and onto the seating area.  It appears we're 30 litres into a 40 litre Aquaroll.  The bench back and seat are saturated and now dripping onto the electrics control module for the van.

I try to blame Herself, but deep down I have a suspicion that it may have been me when I opened up the blind about 15 mins ago.  I've not fessed up yet.

Grumbles is knackered though, and doesn't stay long before going back to his room.  Herself and I sit out as it gets dark, watching the planes crisscross the sky as our solar fairy light spark into life.

It hasn't cooled off this evening like it did yesterday though, so won't be quite as comfortable as it was last night in the van.

Saturday 13 August

Good Morning pitch 49! It's hot, it's damn hot, and it's a struggle to come from under the canopy even this early.  Herself does breakfast this morning and we have bacon butties made with eggy bread.

We'd spotted somewhere on the way back yesterday, a canal side picnic area off the A419 road towards Stroud.  We park up in dappled shade next to a concrete slip ramp.  The dogs make straight for it and are in the water and under the shade of a rotting barge in no time.

There they stayed for the entire time we were picnicking or strolling up the path a little for an explore.  The only trouble was that while crystal clear when we arrived, their playing in the water soon churned up the silt that had settled.  Honking they were, as well as being filthy.

I send out an SOS to a friend of mine who now lives up these parts.  He has dogs so must know of swimming locations for them.  They need to go in clean water, and they need to go in it before we have to spend too much time with them in the confines of Toyah.

Thankfully he gets back to me pretty sharpish, but is of no help whatsoever.  Apparently his dogs aren't swimmers!  But his neighbour goes to either Frampton or Saul.  We trawled the lanes in both those areas to find somewhere without success, either the ship canal was too far below the banks or we were met with mud flats adjacent to the Severn.  We did however pick up a few bags of plums from one of the numerous honesty stalls on our travels.

Too hot to do anything else except pick up some provisions for this evening and then do our best to manage the heat on our pitch by keeping hydrated and borrowing the dog's water splash for as long as Gwawr will let us.

Tea is salmon or mackerel served with Jersey spuds and green beans or asparagus.

Sunday 14 August

It's getting hotter, promising to peak at 36 degrees today.  After a breakfast of sausage butties (Grumbles had his usual Full English in the pub before coming over) we spend some time in the shade under the canopy.  I've got my drone out.  It's not been out from under the bed since my aborted attempt to fly it a few years back.  I'm intrigued to see if it still works, so after a quick battery charge I fire it up and go though the pairing process.

I've not familiarized myself with the instructions so just press a button.  It takes off, veers to the right straight into Herself.  I successfully predict that I could be in trouble here and it's a good hour until Herself stops throwing me dirty looks.

I've done some research, and there appears to be a lake (with clean water) and good reviews at a place called Miserden.  It's remote and as we're cruising through the narrow lanes I've high hopes of it being free of crowds.

Rolling into  the village we're impressed, every building has a sign roadside saying what it is .... The School House, The Village Hall .......

I'm following the route in my head memorized from Google Maps earlier, and then thump .... the hammer blow is delivered in the guise of a set of locked gates, and beyond that a long and steep fenced off tarmac path.  We don't want the dog's paws on that, nor would Herself's knackered knees take the incline, so we take a table in the shade at the Carpenter's Arms to pout reconsider our plans.

Google is unhelpful so I suggest we make towards Cheltenham looking out for brown tourist signs on the way. Nothing, not a sausage, but the dogs are happy in the air conditioned comfort of Toyah for now.

We roll through Cheltenham remarking that the cost of living crisis has yet to hit these parts and I punch Tewksbury into the sat nav, recalling a riverside green area near the abbey.  It's touching 36 degrees now and on arrival there's no shade what so ever.

I'd spotted a sign for a riverside picnic area on the way into town.  We followed Lower Lode Lane for what seemed like an eternity until we found the tiny picnic area next to the tiny available stretch of river bank next to the tiny and full car park.

That sinking feeling again, doubled up by the selfish actions of the Cheltenham College Boathouse that has seen fit to rope off hundreds of yards of riverbank as private property, with a goon in a yellow vest guarding the rope to prevent families having access.

I feel like a kid in the dunce class in school (I'm pretty sure it's not called that anymore) who's failed all their exams again, as Herself gives me the "at least you tried" line.

I give upon today as a bad effort all round as we head for home defeated.

We embark on a session of re hydration in the courtyard of The Tudor Arms and my enthusiastic efforts ensure my gloomy mood lifts somewhat, and by the time our evening meal in the shape of a Katsu curry arrives I'm feeling no pain whatsoever.

Back on the pitch and under the cooling skies, Herself and I enjoy a large G&T each after grumbles has taken himself off to bed.

Got to keep hydrated in this heat see, it's the key to survival.

Monday 15 August

A little cooler today than yesterday, but we've not had any of the thunder storms like other parts of the country.

We amble over to the pub to indulge in a breakfast with Grumbles, though on getting there at 8.30am he appears to have been and gone.  He hadn't said, but he's been breakfasting early and then spending an hour or so up by the canal going for a stroll and sitting watching activities until heading towards us on site at 9.30am, so we breakfast alone.

After yesterday's disappointment I've a plan hatched that should fill the day and with interest.  We head south on the A30 towards the docks at Sharpness.  On pulling up in the car park and turning off Toyah's rumbling engine we can hear the distinctive thud of a much larger engine  being worked rather hard.

Making our way over to the Tidal Basin there's a cargo ship from the Netherlands tied up half in and half out of the locks that lead to the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal, and they're giving the engine some serious beans in reverse.  I can only assume it's some sort of silt clearing exercise.

It's been too hot for the last few days for the dogs to have a good run.  Funny, it's still 26 degree today, but that seems cooler than of late.  They get a good stretch around the viewpoint and picnic site.

We start to rub our eyes in disbelief.  Out in the middle of the Severn is a pedalo.  We can't quite believe the stupidity of some people and hope they're getting a good dressing down off Severn Rescue for their escapades as they are escorted ashore to safety.  They're having a little trouble though as the dangerous tidal currents here are taking them off course.

For the life of me I can't think how it got onto the Severn in the first place, resorting to using Google Maps on my phone, looking for entry points further upstream to no avail.  I reached out on Twitter for an answer, and on getting it feel somewhat bad for all my bad thoughts about them.

It would appear it's all in aid of charity, the guys having pedaled all the way down the Severn from Stourport and were under a planned escort for the final stage to their landing point at Beachley, under the old Severn Bridge.

That's some effort, the River Severn is 220 miles long, and these guys set off on Friday morning in a Dragon Pedalo to cover 72 miles of it ....... very slowly over 4 days.

Absolute nutters .... suffice to say their just giving page has been visited!

From there we make tracks into the Cotswolds and the tourist trap that is Broadway, or as an imaginary friend off the internet put it ...

"Broadway, the place where the Lawn Police knock your door at 9am if you've not been out to comb it yet!"

We bagged a parking spot much easier than we did in November and ambled down into a world of rip offs.  Thankfully it's quieter than we thought it would be, and we enjoy a meander up and down High Street.

The Rikki Tikki toy shop catches our attention first.  It's very quaint, with lots of tradition toys, but also eye wateringly expensive, but needs must, and a carrier bag is filled with treats for Beastie and Bwmps.

A bit further up the road we all but ignore the Broadway Deli, for no other reason that any place that can afford a TucTuc to display wares outside is making far too much profit.

I have the aversion to going into shops that I can't afford or am unwilling to buy stuff in, but after crossing the road and heading back down the Man Cave shop caught my attention.  I went in for a browse, and whilst there were many interesting trinkets and gadgets and stuff, my wallet stayed deep in my pocket.

We took a table in the rear garden of The Swan Inn (How many Swan Inn have we been in this week?) for a drink and a spot of lunch.  I went for the healthy option, really I did this time, in the shape of a Mezze Flatbread.  Superb it was.

It's warming up a little, but we want to let the dogs have a run off lead before heading back, so make a detour to Fish Hill picnic area just outside town near Broadway Tower.  Pulling into the car park there appears to be a few cars randomly parked, all with lone men sat in them eyeing each other up.  We appear to have stumbled across a local "Cottaging" hot spot!!

We leave them to it and head through the trees towards the benches.  I've dragged along my drone to have a go at.  Nelson and Roids got for me a few years back and I've still not really got to grips with it, as Herself's bruised shoulder will testify.

I  followed the launch procedure and kept it at about 12ft, went forwards, backwards, spun it and went side to side.  I think I may have trimmed it too, but don't know what that is,  but read it in the manual!

I'm getting confident now and take it up to about 30ft.  Again it's zooming about and I'm thinking of landing to link up to my phone to shoot some footage. I watched on agonizingly after pressing the wrong button, as the contraption shot at what seemed like warp speed into the upper branches of a tree.  The emergency procedure is then employed (pressing anything and everything) in an attempt to free it.  The only thing I succeeded in doing is relieving the tree of some excess foliage!

I find a lump of wood and start chucking it up into the tree.  After about 5 or 6 goes that gets stuck up there too.  I now resort to a can of Coke Zero.  I chuck that in the general direction of the drone with some force and things start to move.  The can comes crashing down and explodes, covering everything (including my legs) within 15m with sticky liquid.  Things start to move above, and withing a second or two it comes tumbling down to hit the ground - the lump of wood that is!!

We give up and leave the drone up there, consoled only by the fact that when it gets dark the twinkling LEDs will make the Doggers and Cottagers think there's hidden surveillance cameras in the tree!!

Back on site we drop the canopy in readiness for tomorrow's departure before adjourning to the pub once again for a Chicken Madras supper.

Tuesday 16 August

Up bright and early today with a fair bit of cloud cover.  First job it to put some fuel in Toyah at the cheapest gaff we've see around her, the Texaco Fromebridge Service Station, 4.5 miles from site on the A38.  Pulling out of the gate I look enviously on as Grumbled fills his face with a large Full English in the conservatory.

With the canopy dropped  and stowed in the roofbox, there's not much to do this morning, and we've broken camp and are hitched up and moving by 9.15am.  We have the first drops of rain this week during an event-less tow home, except for the usual hold ups around Newport, and are pulling up outside Home is Where You Drag It Towers at around 11am, Time now to give my liver a rest from all this keeping hydrated lark.

Special thanks to Grumbles on this one, as he's fed and kept us hydrated for the last 5 days.  I'd dread to see his credit card statement when it lands on the doorstep!

Until next time.