My random ramblings about time spent in our caravan and the time spent wishing we were in our caravan. Touring with a caravan is something you either 'Get' or you 'Don't get.' There is no middle ground.
We'd had no plans to go away so soon, even with the 3rd May BH approaching. In the few weeks that have passed since coming back from Exebridge our bank account has been hemorrhaging money for one thing or another, and shows no signs of abating.
After an exceptionally difficult day in work Herself suggests she'd like to escape somewhere local for the BH weekend. Most places are booked up. I know this as I'd been sneakily firing out inquiries myself the day before, after also having a particularly difficult week in work.
Why do people think that just because you tell them something they don't want to hear (even when you're right), that gives them the right to complain about you higher up the food chain?
Anyway, Herself pulls a suggestion out from way back in her memory bank, and I fire off a text just to enquire if they had a pitch free on their 5 van site. Bear in mind, we'd not decided if we wanted to / could afford to go yet, but the answer came straight back ..... Yes, I've reserved pitch 5 for you!
Didn't have the heart to say anything.
Friday 26 May
Surprise, surprise. Herself has to work today, so I get a half day off and set off to take the van to site and set up before returning to collect Herself and the dogs. It's only 17 miles to site, and just after midday Toyah is growling her way up Llangennech hill with approx 1700kg strapped to her arse under bright blue skies..
Thankfully the lanes leading to site were traffic free, and I'm soon rattling over the cattle grid into Phillistone Farm, Llanmadoc and pitching up with a view from the door over Carmarthen Bay towards Saundersfoot.
Whilst no knuckles were smashed, pitching and setting up was not incident free. Regular readers will recall waterworks troubles at Exebridge, well guess what folks, the water pump was running at warp speed once more and taps were once again spitting like auditioning porn stars!
Water barrel full? Check.
Pick up at bottom of Aquaroll? Check.
Pistol grip in one piece? Check.
Bugger! Clearing the senior moment fog I start to run through the set up procedure in my head. What didn't I do? Or have we a knackered water pump?
I'm looking around for a cat to kick when I catch sight of a trickle of water coming out from under the van. Bingo! Of course, once I'd closed the dump valve everything kicked into life and worked as it should. Even if I now have to refill the Aqualroll to replace the 45 litres I've just dumped on the field.
A dash back home to collect Herself, the dogs and a living room floor full of shopping, and a dash back to dite to complete setting up - I wasted so much time faffing with the water time was too short earlier, so some 4 hours after arrival we are able to announce that WE IS ARRIVED!!
We both have a severe dose of CBA so adjourn to the nearby Brittania Inn, where we throw a Lamb Tagine down our necks before returning to site for a good guzzle in the warm evening sunshine.
Only after the sun sets and the air goes cooler and we start to get eaten alive by the midges do we retreat inside.
Saturday 27 May
Great night's kip, but wide awake by 6am. Herself joins me up front at 7.30am and lights a flame under the kettle to get a brew on. She has a plan though, and any thoughts of a relaxing breakfast under the canopy are soon dispensed with.
My protestations that it's only 8.30am are roundly ignored, and a rucksack is thrown in my direction, the dogs get clipped on and we're heading passed the God Botherers' retreat and through the dunes at the back of Whiteford Bay Park to the beach.
We break through into the wide open space of Broughton Bay and the dogs tear at warp speed straight to the tide line. The water is crystal clear, even if a little cold, and we spend some time paddling along the shoreline towards Whiteford Point.
It was idyllic, it really was, and great to feel the sand between my toes for the first time this year. We;d been told we were mad before leaving yesterday.
"What you doing going away on a Bank Holiday? You must be mad. Everywhere'll be packed out!"
I see what they mean!
Against my firm advice, Herself is of the opinion that a shortcut over the steeper dunes is a good idea. It wasn't, and the lactic acid was pumping into my calves not long after we hit the very soft sand!
No time to rest when we get back. Nursey has pinged us a text to say she's coming over with Coupons, so we need some supplies. Toyah's nose is pointed back towards Donksville and the ever so reasonable CK's Supermarket. There's nothing quite like a trip to CK's to make you feel like you're on holiday by being fleeced for £70 for a few things that barely cover the bottom of the trolley.
We've not long got back and Mike's chariot is rattling over the cattle grid before disgorging it's cargo of Coupons, Mike, Nursey and their 2 dogs. The extra chairs get dug out and we sit in a circle all afternoon, chopsing, sleeping, drinking and eating under the warm spring (or is it summer yet?) sunshine. My solar panel took a hammering, and by the time we're waving them off at 8pm my chops feel like they've been in a face slapping contest ....... and lost!
Herself and I clear up before settling down, hoping the van is going to cool down somewhat before we retire for the night.
Sunday 28 May
Why do I always sleep better in the van? It's not like we did anything energetic after the early morning walk yesterday. Must just be the fresh air! Sliding the blind open and peering out I can see it's going to be a lovely day again.
Not taking any chances on breakfast this morning, and I pretend not to hear Herself's wishes as I throw some sausages onto the Weber for breakfast. Herself had some Bran Flakes and a bowl of strawberries!
We retrace our steps down to Broughton Beach, and once again the dogs run like an missile to the low tide line. We catch them up, and again ditch the shoes and paddle with them, throwing a ball, this time in the other direction towards Blue Pool.
Once more, we're fighting for space on the beach with the Bank Holiday crowds taking in the wide open space from Blue Pool right up to Whiteford Lighthouse, and we're enjoying throwing a ball and playing with the dogs in the shallows.
I used to spend my summers on this beach as a child. My auntie had a static caravan here which we were allowed to borrow use of frequently, so I'm well aware of the dangers that an incoming tide can present here. I'm therefore a little worried at the sight of a group out playing on a sandbank as the incoming tide surrounds them and the water gets deeper and deeper in the encircling channel.
Thankfully all was OK in the end, and we turned to walk back in the direction of Whiteford Point before heading back up towards the dunes. Now, yesterday I carted a few litres of water for the dogs and cans of coke zero for us all the way down to the beach and all the way back to the caravan. I was determined that wasn't to happen today.
Herself was a little worried as she wouldn't get back up from the floor very easily, what with her knackered knees and all that, so was reluctant to stop. I pouted a bit, and then relented, but the seed had been planted and Herself is now intent on putting me on a guilt trip.
As we hit the line of the dunes Herself spots a ledge at the side of a fresh water stream just as it bursts onto the beach. Arses are planted and we sit for quite a while, feet in the stream as the dogs cooled off and we enjoyed our drinks.
Herself got herself back up vertical, but the haul up to site was a struggle, and by the time we get to the caravan we're both knackered, not moving for quite some time.
The afternoon is spent either pottering around the caravan or emptying the coolbox. We moved no further, just chilling and enjoying each other's company generally ignoring each other.
The Weber is once again pressed into service, but so much easier when cooking for just the two of us, and we have Piripiri chicken with a dirty rice.
We're just finishing off the initial pack away, and the canopy is rolled up bone dry when I go to open the caravan door. The door handle doesn't feel right and I only just manage to get the door open. Herself says "It was like that earlier too!" In my head I'm screaming "Well why didn't you say so!" but bite my tongue, not wanting to spoil what's been a stress free day.
My screwdriver set gets dug out and I take the door locking mechanism apart, spraying everything with a liberal dose of lithium grease. No luck though, and no improvement. Google tells me the door handles are prone to failing on Swift caravans, which is little consolation to me! Just praying it'll last until tomorrow, and I can get on the blower to Leisure Medic to sort out a fix.
With everything that can be stowed away, stowed away we settle down inside the van as the sun sets on another lovely day on the north western tip of The Gower Peninsular.
As an evening snack we enjoy a bowl of Selwyn's cockles, smothered with too much salt and vinegar than is good for us (Herself doesn't do pepper).
Maybe it's all in the mind, but they tasted so much better knowing they were harvested from beds on the sands we have been walking on this weekend!
Monday 29 May
Bit of a restless night last night, probably due to fretting about the door handle. Will it open? Will we be locked out? If we're locked out how on earth am I going to get the van off the road?
And it was too hot in the van on account of Herself having had too much sun and was cold. 3am I got up and flung open some windows. Herself made a show of curling up more in the duvet, but I didn't care, I could now breath, drifting off not long after.
It's 8.30am by the time I stirred, and sitting on the bed, scratching me nads (as you do) I'm looking out at the bottom of Llanmadoc Hill, reflecting on how much of a chilled out few days it's been.
Apart from one trip back to CK's to get in provisions to feed unexpected guests, Toyah's not moved, which is unheard of for us on a break away. We've enjoyed walks down to the beach, we've enjoyed getting our feet wet and we've enjoyed sitting round the van soaking up the sun and views.
We've enjoyed chillaxing.
This morning we don't want to hanging around though. We could have as I'm sure we'd not have been rushed off site, but we wanted to get out of the lanes before day trippers arrived, or the residents of Whiteford Bay decided they needed to pop out for BBQ stuff.
Come 9.20am were hitched up and making our way through the high hedges with main beam on. Luckily we met just 2 cars, but both at passing places before we turn onto the comparative open space of the B4295 (North Gower Road).
If you've not been her before, and are wondering how bad the laned approach can be you may wish to watch a "Site Arrival" video I recorded a few years back.
Back at "Home is Where You Drag it Towers" by 10am, and plod about unpacking and putting the van back in it's cwtch until next time.
It seems like just a few short weeks ago we were packing up at Little Valley, mainly because it was just a few short weeks ago. We're in the Bank Holiday silly season now, and May benefits from an extra one this year due to Charlie boy having a shindig up in that there London.
We're returning to one of our favourites this week, one that we found purely by accident back in 2015 when we relocated here after an altercation with wardens on a nearby site. It's in a very pretty area, has a fantastic on site dog walk and has a very nice pub within walking distance, one that also has B&B room so that Grumbles can tag along.
I wash the van regularly, but have no choice really. We live on a main road and both myself and The Captain have wood burners. This ensures it doesn't stay clean for long, add to that we towed home a few weeks ago through torrential rain so she also has a good coating of road grease!
Some say I'm too fussy, but I just can't go away in a filthy van!
Monday 1 May
Bank Holiday Monday and for a change we're setting off rather than returning, hoping that we'll be travelling against all the traffic exiting the West Country.
Setting off just before 9.30am I'm happy to note the M4 is quiet and with the cruise control set to a steady 61mph we cruise effortlessly through south Wales. I'm praying the M5 gods will be as kind.
Gwawr was starting to play up, and Herself is of the opinion that Gwawr needs a toilet stop ..... soon!
The Costa in Sedgemoor Services gets some folding in exchange for some caffeine before we're rolling once more. The gods were kind and the only hold up we saw was on the north bound carriageway near Bridgewater. Consulting Satnav tells me we're ahead of schedule and I need to slow down. Cruise is dropped to 55mph and we dawdle the last 60 odd miles to site.
The warden on site had sent me a few messages (we're imaginary friends off the internet) warning of the particular bad road surface at Black Cat and standing water flooding the road close to site. I didn't take heed, thinking she was exaggerating, but as we bounced over the surface I'm worrying what has fallen out of where inside the caravan. I was still worrying as we aquaplaned round the z bends and I'm cursing the effort of washing both car and caravan before we left!!
Despite slowing down we're still too early and cruise past the site entrance and into the car park at the Anchor Inn, where we hope that Grumbles can be abandoned to check in early.
After an episode involving PIN numbers at reception Herself and I are rocking up at Exebridge Lakeside at just gone 1pm. A warm welcome from @GailMcoops means we are no longer just imaginary friends off the internet any more.
We'd initially settled on a pitch and unhitched the caravan when Herself spots some fully serviced pitches on the tier below.
"They have fully serviced pitched here?"
"Err, yes."
"Why haven't we got one then?"
"Well, they're ££ more expensive."
"You tight git! Where's your wallet."
And with that Herself storms off the reception to talk nicely to Gail.
Pitch 30 is now ours, and we set about setting up.
The process was not incident free however. Water works are playing up. The caravan's not mine. With everything connected and the dump valve closed I fire up the water pump. It makes all the encouraging noises, but unlike usual it continues to make those noises.
The taps are spitting like a porn star and expelling more air than water. The pump gets a few taps for good measure but still nothing. We carry a spare pistol connection so I fit that and hey presto the taps come into life with a primed system.
I conclude we must have had an air lock, and for some reason unknown switch over the pistol grips again.
Pegging out the awning involved just the one smashing of my knuckles and we sit down in the sun to enjoy the surroundings with a beer.
@GailMcoops isn't the only imaginary friend I'll meet today. While pegging out Herself had remarked at how nosy some people are and that a Discovery had slowed to a crawl passing our pitch, and seemed taken aback when I said
"Oh, that'll be @MrBrooksOnTour , he's staying on site."
"Is there anyone else?"
"Well yes, I assume Mrs @Brooksontour will be with him, Oh, and @GPS2812 is supposed to be coming down at the weekend!"
A pleasant afternoon was spent blowing the froth off a few cold ones and chatting with former imaginary friends off the internet before tea time came around. With the dogs clipped on we set off on the path past the fishing lake towards the welcoming beer garden of the Anchor Inn.
Our meal was taken outside, and while the sun was out is was very warm, but soon after food we were reminded how early in the year it was as when the sun dropped the temperature plummeted.
We retreated to the bar until 9pm when Grumbles took himself off to bed and we walked back up to site and straight into our own.
Tuesday 2 May
Great night'skip last night. Dead to the world by 10pm and didn't stir until 5am when my bladder reminded me I'm a man in my prime mid 50s.
As soon as it was a reasonable hour to start making a noise, and given up on the idea of @GailMcoops delivering a McDonalds' breakfast to my pitch, I set about trying to solve our water works issues. Any hopes I had that it may have resolved itself miraculously over night were swiftly dispatched on the flick of a switch.
A light bulb moment ensued and I remembered we had this issue on our first trip out in this van when the tube curled up in the aquaroll and the pup was sucking in air. Out I went and squinting inside revealed a fair old depth of water and the pick up sitting neatly on the bottom! Next was the O rings, but they looked good and I lubricated them for good measure. I've no idea why I didn't think to just try the new (and working) pistol grip, I really don't, but with Herself standing on the step looking down at me disapprovingly, I stubbornly refuse to give a mobile guy a ring and stomp back to the aquaroll to give everything a shake.
Luckily I'd put my hearing aids in and heard the pistol grip rattling. I've never heard it rattle before and on further examination it appears the hose is moving around lose inside the pistol grip, with the metal clip that's supposed to keep it attached banging against the plastic inside. At least it was a simple and quick repair!
I was sadly mistaken in thinking that Herself would share my enthusiasm of my genius, and while I'm running round like I've scored the winning try in a cup final, Herself just exclaims "Can I have a coffee now then?"
I took myself off to a quiet corner of the site to have a word with myself! These senior moments are become all to frequent for my liking.
We pick Grumbles and his full belly up and point Toyah in the direction of Minehead. It's lovely and sunny as we park up on Warren Road, and surprisingly the place isn't just full of coffin dodgers.
It's term time, but there's quite a few families (mostly single mothers with a fist full of unruly kids each) out for a walk into town from Butlins. I'm assuming there is some sort of Sun Holiday deal going on. They can't all be home educated, so must have been taken out of school, and who can blame them? Sometimes a holiday can be so much more important than 3 days in a class room, just not all the time though as seems to happen with most home educated children I know of! You have to wonder when they fit in "classroom time".
Herself dives into Saltrock on The Avenue to buy a bag full of gear for Beastie and Bwmps before we walk its length and back down to take an outside table at The Hairy Dog for lunch. It wasn't great BTW.
Herself has been doing Slimming World since Xmas, and is now nearly at the point that she needs more than one hand to count the stones lost. Her knackered knee is also so much better, but she's confessed that she hurt it while walking the dogs earlier, so we abandon any ideas of taking a stroll over to the harbour, instead calling in Morrisons for some salmon and mackerel for tea before returning to site by 3pm for some serious relaxation time.
A few pints of cider and I'm so relaxed I'm on my chin straps and dribbling. My solar panel took a hammering before Herself takes pity and throws my Mongo hat over it.
Our evening meal was eaten alfresco before we clip on the dogs and head over to what I consider to be the best dog walk on the club network as the sun drops behind the surrounding hills.
Wednesday 3 May
Kip not so great last night, and I put it down to going to bed sober. My bladder can hold out no more at 7am and by the time I've uncrossed my eyes and taken Gwen out to uncross hers Gwawr has taken my place on the bed next to Herself!
Defeated I curl up on the front bench and dropped off lovely, not waking again until 9.30am when the smell of bacon wafted into the caravan from the awning.
With a picnic stuffed into a coolbag we pick up Grumbles and his full belly and head off up into the hills to Wimbleball Lake, a resevoir that now also plays host to a centre for many outdoor activities, both water and non water based.
I note with a tinge of bitterness that no villages were drowned in the formation of this reservoir, unlike many of the ones formed in mid Wales by the English cities!
Clipping the dogs on we head down the hill from the car park towards the lake, which appears to be busy with schoolkids on a trip either on kayaks, floating pontoons or on a boat ride.
I was roundly ignored at the bottom of the hill, and instead of turning right towards the dam Grumbles strides off in the direction on the nature reserve, only stopping after about 1/2 mile to ask where we are going! Turning around we retrace our steps for 1/2 mile and take the path to the rear of the boat club that'll take us to the dam.
It's 1 1/2 miles to the dam from here and Herself's knackered knee is giving her some serious gip, but she's stubborn and won't give in. Her smart watch says it was 10,000 steps on the walk, and I'm pretty sure she swore and cursed at me for at least 8,000 of those!
Rounding the last corner it comes into view. The buttress dam stands at 49m high holding back the River Haddeo with a capacity when full of 21,000 megalitres.
Herself throws a fist full of pain killers down her neck and opting out of the 9 miles circular walk, we retrace our steps.
As the boat club comes into view once more Herself remarks that the 1 1/2 miles didn't seem so far on the way back, my pointing out that we didn't have the extra mile added on by going the wrong way didn't go down too well!
Herself is wincing with every step and Grumbles is grumbling, bemoaning my choice of a day out (he is 83 mind!). Nothing is right, and my choice of a picnic spot is too windy. With the walk over Herself senses that I'm about to blow, so positions Toyah as a wind break, opening the passenger door to provide extra shelter for his chair, sits him down and throws a ham roll in his direction to shut him up.
We divert to Tiverton and its B&M on the way back to get some of the dog's favorite treats, pulling into site I was distracted after recording a "site arrival" video and didn't notice the afternoon tea gathering was a little larger than usual.
Getting out of the car I'm beckoned over to meet yet another imaginary friend off the internet. @billy2plus5 and his lovely wife have called into site for a mini meet from Exeter where they have their van on a seasonal pitch. The next hour or so flies by as conversation topics revolved mainly about sites we've been to as well as other imaginary friends (and others who seem to grip our collective shit) from Twitter.
All that talking in the heat ensures I have a thirst on, and my solar panel has taken a battering again, so my Mongo hat gets dug out and I enjoy a few Thatchers Haze watching on as an ambulance enters the site to attend to another camper who's called them out because of a bleeding nose.
I said that rather flippantly, and while it would have been a waste of resources, I'd prefer that other than the poor chap having an underlying condition that would seriously threaten life.
Scrubbed up we walk down to The Anchor Inn once more for tea. The Thatchers was flowing and I've a bit of a buzz on, and it's for this reason only I can reason that I let my guard down and got sucker punched by Herself.
You see, she's been fancying some ornamental Hares that are on display, and for sale, in the bar. I caved in knowing that she wouldn't let it go all week, and sick of hearing about them I flashed the card at the barman and got her one as an early birthday present.
Not to be outdone Grumbles is keen to get in on the act. There's no flies on Herself when it comes to taking advantage of being "Daddies Girl" and she's now the proud owner of a pair of Hares to sit either side of our wood burner at home.
9pm and Grumbles is on his chinstraps, so as he trudges up the wooden hill to his room we get dragged by the dogs past the lake and up the real hill back to site and the comfort of our caravan.
Thursday 4 May
Our @DerekTheWeather has predicted a turn in the weather, and on springing open the blinds gloomy and threatening skies say he may be right. How come he's always right when shite weather is predicted?
I'd fancied some porridge for breakfast so picked up some instant pots in B&M yesterday. I've had the Quaker ones before which were quite good, so had high hopes for their own el cheapo ones.
Let's just say it was a disappointing pot of watery nothingness! The breakfast scenario was rescued with some rather good eggs we picked up from an honesty stall at the side of the road between here and Tiverton before collecting Grumbles and his full belly and heading out for the day.
Herself has hinted that she's rather like to go see some donkeys. Who am I to argue? Heading in the direction of Sidmouth and The Donkey Sanctuary the weather is deteriorating. Wind is getting windier and the gloomy skies are starting to look threatening.
It's May, but looking at Grumbles getting out of the car dressed for an Antartic expedition you wouldn't think so. We set off down the hill, and I let on to Herself that I'm hoping to see Poooh, the donkey we've been sponsoring for a few years now.
"You'll be lucky, we've had a letter a few months ago. He's dead!"
The visit was a let down to be frank. There were no donkeys in the yard or barn as on previous visits for petting, and the weather not really conducive to trudging around the fields. We settled for lunch in the cafe before visiting the gift shop and moving on.
Despite having had a run this morning the dogs were still pulling our arms out of their sockets around the sanctuary. Dropping down into Sidmouth we come across the Salcombe Hill Walk, owned by The National Trust. Ignoring the £3 parking charge we set off into the trees letting the dogs run free to burn off some energy, as the weather deteriorated further above the canopy.
Rolling into Sidmouth it strikes us as a place where people come to die, with every other elderly couple pushing an equally elderly dog around in a doggy pram!
We didn't see the place in its best light though. The waves pounding the cliffs ensures the sea is a brown mud colour and the only other people about are hunkered down in the shelters dotted along The Esplanade.
From there we followed the lanes to Ladram Bay. No view though as we're enveloped in cloud. On arrival I get that sinking feeling. Ladram Bay is a private holiday resort with no admittance to the general public! We carry on with wipers swishing in the direction of High Peak, only to be thwarted by the road running out!
We call it a day and head back towards Exebridge, calling in Tesco for the ingredients for an evening meal.
Returning to site, we have an immediate neighbour for the first time this week. He's immediately given me the ick by having his hose pipe snaking all over "our" grass part of the pitch, as well as his waste pipe which is discharging into the wrong drain.
The speed some of the geriatrics are doing is also an issue. I take exception to one Passat driver who revs out of 1st and changes into 2nd gear as he passes our pitch. Doubt he'll be bidding me good morning when I waddle over to tip the skip in the morning!
The rain eases off at 8.30pm and Herself suggests taking the dogs for a walk, not to the onsite dog walk though, but down the pub. It's all locked up and in darkness when we arrive, all customers having left. Poking our heads through the back door, the Landlord confirms it's OK to come in for a drink, and I make it worth his while by managing to throw 5 pints down my neck in the next hour before saying goodnight to Grumbles and heading back up to the site via torchlight.
Friday 5 May
It's dry when I lose my place on the bed to Gwawr, but we've had a lot of rain overnight. Looking out of the back window it looks the rain's return is not far away.
Sure enough though, @GailMcoops brought it back from Tiverton with her, and we had a torrential downpour every 10 mins or so. After yesterday's breakfast debacle I go for the safe option of bacon and eggs, so at least I won't be grunting at Grumbles as he gets into the car rubbing his full belly!
We're heading out and I clock a new arrival sat at the barrier. It's only 12.15, with the earliest stipulated arrival time being 13.00. Why do some think the rules don't apply to them?
Leaving site with no particular destination in mind we snake our way through Dulverton and out the other side on the B3223. We traverse the moor taking in the vibrant colours, even if most of the time it was through the swishing of wipers!
We're at the top and a Discovery coming towards us is waving frantically, well the occupants were, it's The Brooks, on a little tour of their own. We wave back, unsure if we've recognised them in time. Gwawr is griping so we take the opportunity between showers to stop for our picnic lunch with a view. I get out with the dogs while Herself and Grumbles sit tight in the confines of Toyah.
Having seen a tweet from @Brooksontour it appears that Lynton is under blue skies, so we head in that direction through Simonsbath, stopping briefly to empty a roadside stall of free range eggs.
We carry on, but the road is 2" deep in water and making any sort of safe progress is near impossible, so slow down to a crawl. Dropping down into Lynton through Watersmeet sees the rain easing off and to be replaced by cloudy skies. We bag a FREE parking space opposite the Lyn Model railway. It's not our bag so we send Grumbles in and tell him we'll see him lower down in about an hour!
Crossing over onto Riverside Rd Herself and I marvel at how pretty the place is, with the water jets of the Glen Lyn Gorge adding dramatic effect. Diverting onto Lynmouth St a few quaint little shops catch our attention, one in particular selling loads of rude signs. Herself procured one for my cwtch at home.
Herself refused to pay £50 for a pair of slippers in the sheepskin shop so we continue as far as The Rising Sun, taking an elevated outside table in the sunshine overlooking Lynmouth Harbour, watching the world go by.
I was taken aback somewhat inside though, £15.50 they wanted for a glass of chilled sauv and a pint of pale ale for me. Not tried it before, and the Badger Brewery website waxes lyrical....
Hazy. Spicy. Sweet.
Spicy ginger takes centre stage in this hazy pale ale, brewed with WGV and Goldings hops. Expect refreshing, balanced yet punchy flavours.
Pair with: an obscenely big plate of spicy chicken wings and dancing the night away.
Looks
As hazy as a lazy summer afternoon.
Smells
Like citrus groves and sweet cinnamon.
Tastes
A unique balance that’s a little sweet, a little spicy and totally luscious.
I've tasted better dishwater, and only drank it because it was so bloody expensive!
The journey back to site was a little less dramatic, and far more enjoyable from the driver's seat, and we chill in the awning for a while before taking an evening stroll, past the fishing lodges adjacent to the site and into the welcoming doors of The Anchor Inn once more.
We're on our chinstraps though, so won't be a late one tonight.
Saturday 6 May (Coronation Day)
The wardens have made an effort, as have many of the caravans around us. The site is ablaze with Union flags and bunting. I'm kicking myself though as I forgot to bring my flag of Owain Glyndwr, the last true Prince of Wales, that I would have flown in my own little act of defiance!
Herself was in the van watching the goings on in London and I take a wander around the site. Each pitch tells a similar story. Women inside the van watching TV with men sat in the awning doing whatever in a bid to avoid it. Approaching 2pm and Herself declares she's now seen enough so we head off out in the direction of Tiverton.
We almost didn't stop, but whilst glancing in the direction of the bus station some bunting and a road closed sign caught my attention. Abandoning Toyah in the depths of the multi we head up the hill into a hive of activity. Bands and buskers belted out some tunes and a few kiddie entertainers (who looked like they slipped the Yewtree net) did their best to jolly up the crowd.
A stall selling cider caught our attention. We spend a while sampling some thimbles of goodness from Rull Orchard before procuring a rucksack full of bottles of their dry and continuing on.
The Panier Market proved to be an interesting walk round before heading back down through the crowd and to the coolness of Toyah parked up below ground.
Heading just out of town we park up at the Tiverton end of The Great Western Canal. Apparently it meanders its way for 11 miles through the countryside to the hamlet of Lowdwells. We didn't go that far and as picturesque as it is, we gave up dodging the dog shit after just a mile or so.
Back on site and the Coronation Celebration is still in full flow, we feel a little guilty for not joining in, but we're all starving and in a rush to get tea on the go, which is eaten in the awning with sun streaming through the perspex.
Sunday 7 May
Another slow start to the day, and we head off out just before noon. Dunster is the lucky place today to benefit from our presence, We park up in the town car park and people are crossing the road to avoid us and the 3 dogs near the Yarn Market at the top end of High Street.
We buy some pasties for lunch and I grab a jar of Wortleberry Jam for Coupons on the way through to The Castle. We'd hoped to wander the gardens, but the NT Gestapo in a yellow vest is standing with crossed arms at a gate. You're not allowed in to walk the path without paying. Dogs are not allowed into the castle itself and there is no reduction in the admission fee to reflect this.
We take a bench in close proximity to the yellow vest so I can throw her dirty looks while chomping down on Cornwall's finest!
Back up along High Street we head, and I annoy Herself and Grumbles by wanting to take a look at the swords for sale in The Medieval Gallery. The bloke in there creeped me out, so I didn't inconvenience them for too long!
At the top of High St we thread our way through The Luttrell Arms and up some steep steps into their "Secret Garden". Not much of a secret though as it has about 50 tables, most of those being occupied by people having a slurp while soaking up the view of the castle on the other side of the village.
The dogs have been on a lead all day and need a good run, so we take the short journey down to Dunster Beach where a ball gets thrown for them until they're begging for mercy. I'm taken aback though at how much sand the beach has lost since our last visit here.
We're onsite long enough to drop the awning while bone dry and scrub up before adjourning once more to the welcoming Anchor Inn, where after food we are joined by The Brooks for an evening of slurping beer and putting the world to rights. If you're part of the online caravanning community and have an @ , then I'm pretty sure your ears may have been burning this evening!
Monday 8 May
The shenanigans of last night ensured it wasn't only the weather that wasn't having a bright start to the day. I was unable to lift my head off the pillow, let along peel myself off the sheets until gone 8.30am. breaking camp is never that enjoyable, but today it's a real chore.
In reality it didn't take too long, and we waving goodbye to Gail and Mark by 9.45 and going down to collect Grumbles from his digs.
The journey home took 3hrs and was uneventful for the most part. An aging dickhead in a knackered old Ford Focus decided to brake test me in a spell of heavyish rain near J44 of the M4.
A great week away on the Somerset Devon border. A bit of mixed bag weatherwise, but we didn't get wet and saw a bit of sunshine. Best of all though, imaginary friends off the internet became real life friends, and I'm pretty sure we'll see each other again in the near future.
