This one took a bit of booking. I had two areas in mind, either the Peak District or on the South Coast, veering towards the latter in recent weeks praying for the chance of a little bit of sunshine.
I was looking for a site either adjacent to or within staggering distance of a dog friendly pub. Club sites were coming in at £45 to £55 a night, way outside my comfort zone, and seemingly private sites or CLs booked up. I was losing the will to live, and it was looking more and more likely that Herself's somewhat less ambitious idea to return to a CL from earlier in the year may be Hobon's choice.
Perchance while watching a vlog on YouTube the Sir Walter Tyrrell pub in the New Forest, with its own campsite came onto my radar. A quick phone call secures a pitch, and due to the frightening ease and lack of detail I follow it up with an e mail. Half an hour later and the booking is confirmed in writing.
Saturday 12 August
Any plans we had of getting away early this morning were well and truly scuppered when our walk yesterday evening terminated in the beer garden of the Bridge Inn, just 300m from our front door. The intention was to have just a few to de-stress after horrendous weeks in work for both of us, but it turned out we needed a lot more de-stressing than we thought.
My Ring doorbell shows me that The Captain had been out at 7.05 am moving his car out of the way as requested, but we were still stuck to the pillows then, However breaking through the pain barrier, I've somehow got the van out and hitched up to Trude ready for a delayed departure at 9.15 am.
We're immediately regretting our antics last night as we join the rather heavy holiday traffic snaking through south Wales and over the bridge into England. Going is quite slow generally, but very slow in the usual hotspots.
There seemed to be a larger percentage of cretins occupying the driver seat today, and we were cut up numerous times as they found themselves trapped in lane 3 as they hit the 300 yard countdown sign. I was forced to apologise to Herself for my repeated use of a rather unpleasant torrent on more than one occasion!
I'll not repeat it here, instead i'll pinch the description from @legsdown who had me spitting my tea out laughing when he used it in his blog earlier this week. There are now many drivers around the Cardiff East, Newport and Bristol areas trying to figure out what a "sexually active lady garden" is!
Pulling into Leigh Delamare with the rest of south Wales (on their way to Twickers) we're under blue skies. Herself wanders around with the dogs while I pop in to procure get mugged for a few sandwiches from M&S. Now M&S are usually renown for quality in their food produce so I don't know what happened with our sandwiches, but they were rank, and left me regretting my decision not to join the queue of scuzbuckets snaking out of Greggs' doorway!
The route cross country is 50 miles shorter than that recommended by satnav so we exit the M4 at j17 and make our way south. A very pretty run it was too, even if tediously slow at times, and I only got lost twice!
1.45 pm and we're crunching gravel in the car park of the Sir Walter Tyrrell pub after a final few miles that would not be for a nervous tower!
We arrived during the lunchtime rush, so booking in at the bar was tedious. Setting up was a slow business, and it's 4 pm until we can announce to Facebookville that "We is Arrived!!"
We're pitched just 50m or so from the pub, and it's calling by 5 pm. First though the dogs need a good walk so we head over the road into the forest for a wander, throwing a ball as we went.
The menu is rather limited, and to be honest, the food was a bit too greasy for us, but it filled a gap. We get 10% off everything we spend while staying at the campsite, so make the most of that, even if the San Miguel had a mind of it's own. It's rather lively, frothing away and cascading foam over the table.
This was a perfect pint when it was put down on the beer mat!
9 pm and we're on our chinstraps, so return to the van for an early night.
Sunday 13 August
We wake to clear skies, with the promise of a good day. Herself is currently 4 stones into her Slimmers World journey, so breakfasts on a measly bowl of porridge. She tries calling my bluff saying "You can have a breakfast, but you'll have to cook and eat it in the awning on your own!"
So I did!!
Herself has been hankering after a new smart watch for a while now, and purely by coincidence she'd mislaid the charging lead for hers, and couldn't find it anywhere before we left. Amazon do replacements for under £5, but I've been married to Herself for 31 years now, and know exactly where this is heading, so play along.
A quick look online, and Currys have a good range, so we head off to their Bournemouth shop. In through the door and the stand has only a few Fitbit on display. We beckoned over what must be the most disinterested salesman that breathes this side of the equator!
"We've got these, or some Samsung ones over there."
He slouches off avoiding any further contact.
Herself is quite taken with one actually, but it's double what she was prepared to pay, so we pop into Aldi next door for some essentials while she mulls it over.
Wanting to avoid the charade of Herself being talked into the purchase, and after a brief brows of Amazon and Argos, I sit in the driver's seat of Trude and tell her straight "Just go buy it and stop pretending!"
She's in there a short while and comes out empty handed with a face like thunder. It appears she went back in and was again unfortunate enough to have to deal with Mr Disinterested. He briefly brightened up when Herself waved her card in his face, until.....
"We don't keep those in stock, but I can get it here by Wednesday, or tomorrow if you want to pay £30 on top!"
Herself is more polite than me, so he avoided being sworn at as she exited the shop.
We ordered a charging lead off Amazon!!
Back on site we pack our day sacks, pull on our walking boots and to the dogs' delight head off out for a yomp in the forest. Out of the gate, and avoiding the temptation to stop for a beer, we turn left and up the hill. Just a few hundred yards and we come across the Rufus Stone.
Legend has it that it marks the spot where, when out hunting, an arrow fired by Sir Walter Tyrrell, glanced off a tree, and found a new target in the shape of King William II. The King didn't fare too well apparently. There is talk that he was a bit of a git, so accident or not?
We put in a good few miles, enjoying the solitude with only the distant hum on the M27 breaking the silence. The dogs are in their element, darting in and out of the trees and bathing in streams, We find an idyllic clearing and plonk ourselves on a fallen trunk to share a packed lunch between the 4 of us. Yes, 4, as Gwawr and Gwen had more pork pies and beef pasties that either Herself and I.
Heading back now, and as we approach the road I'm amused to see a couple of middle aged men, hunched under a tarp, dressed in full cammo gear, pretending to be Bear Grills and living wild in the forest, just 20m from where they'd parked up their car next to all the other families!
Back at the SWT we grab a table out front and settle down with a few drinks. The area soon fills up, and it appears that there is to be a band playing very soon. We had planned to stop for just half an hour then go back to the van for a BBQ, but The Underdogs were good, very good, so I'm afraid to say we stopped rather longer and joined everyone else at a superb party in the forest.
The front area was full and some took their own chairs over the road onto the grass. What a superb evening it was. With barely a leg under us we stagger back to the caravan, luckily only 50m or so away. Some chicken gets thrown on the Weber and we devour it like a pack of savages before collapsing into bed.
Monday 14 August
We wake to the pitter-patter on the roof as the promised rain arrives, and I could do with staying in bed for a few more hours to be honest, but the red light on the bog is lighting up the shower room, and after my over enthusiastic consumption of Guinness last night my guts are starting to give out distress signals. I don't bother getting dressed, and just throw on mt Saltrock dry robe to empty everything that should be empty and fill everything that should be full.
Settling down for breakfast, Herself won this morning, so porridge it is, and it's grim outside, really grim. Herself works to worsen my mood by firing up the dodgy box to stream Barbie of all things!
Thankfully it's not too long until I'm rescued by a ping on my phone letting me know that Herself's charging lead is ready for collection in Lyndhurst. Pointing Trude's nose in that general direction, after giving the dogs a good run near Rufus Stone, we're not sure how the day will unfold.
Parked up in Lyndhurst and it's hammering down, and patently obvious that only one of us will be getting out.
I struggled to find the Post Office, getting soaked in the process. I mean, who hides a Post Office inside a Co-op supermarket? I return to the car with my soggy cardboard parcel, content that I've won the Smart Watch battle. The war is far from over though, and I'm in no doubt that Herself will win that one!
One thing we've been unhappy with since we've had this van is the stupid fixed wire basket under the cutlery drawer. Before we came away one of the Facebook groups I'm on had a thread about Ikea having a better solution, so off to their massive shop in Southampton we went.
It was a painful experience, but then again Ikea always is. Nevertheless, mission accomplished and laden with far more than we went in for we returned to Trude and the sleeping dogs.
The weather's improved a little so we make tracks down towards Calshot. I've heard about a site down there right on the edge of the Solent, and am keen to check it out. I did, and suffice to say we'll not be winding the legs down there any time soon.
Parked up near Calshot Castle (Castle my arse!!!) we clip on the dogs to go for a wander.
It's blowy, very blowy as we walk across the shingle beach. Gwen wastes no time in getting acquainted with the water of the Solent and it feels like we can almost touch the cargo ships and ferries as they pass.
With some sandwiches picked up in the Co-op we stop for lunch at Milford on Sea, looking over towards The Needles from the tailgate. A pleasant experience it's not, even though the rain has stopped it's blowing a bit. Herself is eating her hair and Trude is rocking in each gust.
We didn't hang around very long, and Herself is layered up in the passenger seat as we make tracks. Skirting Bournemouth and the wind drops and the sun makes an appearance. The world is a better place all of a sudden.
Entering the National Park the roads narrow, and some local wildlife is playing havoc with the traffic, the calves won't move and drivers are too afraid to push it. Deadlock!
Clearing the obstacles by going onto the verge we press on. Now, i'm firmly of the opinion that if you have to drive down a long dirt track to get too a pub, it's well worth visiting just for the novelty value.
We've been here before, so know it's good. Too nice now to site inside, we take a table in the beer garden soaking up the fresh sunshine looking out into the trees at ponies in the dappled shade.
We head back up the lane towards the tarmac, and it appears that it's band of wild ponies this time playing games with the traffic. The driver gets out to try and move them along, but they're having none of it!
Back on site the chairs get set up facing the sun and some Lamb Tikka is thrown onto the Weber for tea. never expected it to turn out like this during the downpours this morning!
Tuesday 15 August
Much better when we wake up this morning than yesterday and we have a lazy few hours sat around the van, sinking a few coffees and bacon muffins as I won this morning!
We're getting ready to go out, and my smart watch runs out of power. No problem I think, as it only takes about 20 mins to fully charge from flat. I know we have the lead with us as I think I charged it a few days back, but do you think I can find it? Not a chance, and Herself is adamant that she's not seen it or put it anywhere safe!
Herself throws a picnic into our day sacks and we set off on a bit of a wander in no particular direction. We've done about 1/3 of a mile and the going was very soggy underfoot. Herself was not happy, not happy at all, and I'm in no doubt whatsoever that I'm in her bad books.
Taking refuge on a trunk in the shade I fire up Google maps looking for somewhere a bit firmer underfoot. We're like David Bellamy for a while forcing our way through thick undergrowth, and I'm left in no doubt again that I'm sinking deeper and deeper into the shit.
Eventually we break free onto a bridleway, with stones underfoot and everything. Herself is no longer sinking ankle deep into the mud and starts to relax a little. We're heading towards Ocknell Inclosure, but somehow missed that such was our advancing pace, and followed Forest Road as far as Stoney Cross Plain, where in the car park, like an oasis in the desert, an ice cream van appeared like a mirage!
Before I'm allowed an ice cream I have to be a good boy and eat the ham sandwiches that Herself had so thoughtfully prepared. We're sat on a bank, just taking in the views when along come a drove of Donkeys. They'd trotted down Forest Rd and hung a right into the car park.
How awesome is that? We're sat on the tump and they just trotted passed!
It's getting hot now, so Herself is happy for me to throw some folding in the direction of the ice cream man, on the condition that I get one each for Gwawr and Gwen as well. They thoroughly enjoyed theirs, and Gwen was a little too enthusiastic in her licking, as most of it ended up over her head!
Time to make tracks now, and I'm taking no chances. We take a path that runs parallel to Forest Rd until we hit the bridleway. With no shade whatsoever the midday sun is scorching, and I'm regretting the decision to smother some factor 50 on my solar panel as it clogs up the pores and my head feels like it can't breath, sending cascades of sweat down my face! I look on enviously as a band of ponies take shelter under a tree.
The end of our walk is reached as we arrive back at the Sir Walter Tyrrell, taking a bench in the shade and start the process of re hydrating.
Looking at my Samsung I see that we've covered 4.2 miles, some over some pretty tough terrain. Super proud of Herself, as just 6 months ago, her and her knackered knee would have struggled to do 1/2 a mile!
It sounds even better if you say it in Andy McNab or Bear Grylls language, as the conversion makes it a walk of nearly 7 clicks.
Neither of us can be arsed to climb the steps back into the bar for more drinks so we retreat back to the van and collapse into our chairs. We don't move for a while, until we realise we need to pop out for some supplies. There's a Morrisons a few miles down the road in Totton, so we dart down there before we change our minds and stick to the chairs.
On return after just one bottle of Staropanmen I dozed off in the sun, and there I stayed dribbling down my tee shirt until Herself prodded me to announce that tea was ready. She'd touched my BBQ mind, but I'll forgive her because the salmon, saute potatoes, rice and salad was a superb effort and hit the spot lovely.
I've had a beerless evening and as it starts to get dark Herself declares that the walls of the caravan are starting to close in on her, and as it happens I'd fancied a spin out myself anyway. The confused dogs get loaded into Trude's back end and we head off out - Herself in her PJs. The road towards Bournemoth is busy, and comes as quite a shock after the evening tranquility of the forest.
Dropping down the hill towards Boscombe Pier in the dark at 9.30pm we're expecting to have the place almost to ourselves. How wrong could we have been?
As we crawl along Undercliff Drive groups are huddled around fires on the sand, lunatics are hanging upside down on the outdoor gym equipment, enough joggers to start a park run and several groups of NEDs stand in the road admiring each other's baked bean tin exhausts - petrol obviously still too expensive to actually drive around that much.
We find a quiet spot closer to Bournemouth and let the dogs out onto the beach. We join them for a walk on the cool sand with the sound of the waves crashing in the darkness, Herself still in her PJs. I'm pretty sure there would be a dog ban in place this time of year, but we saw no signs, and even if we did it was too dark to read them!
Some of the NEDs are trying their luck as we exit, standing in the road as we approached, not moving out of the way. Let's just say that the steering wheel on Trude didn't twitch from straight ahead and her wheels didn't stop turning!!
We pick up a tray of chips in Christchurch to share on the way back to site on the scenic route (in the dark?) through the forest and Lyndhurst.
Wednesday 16 August
Looks like another fine day ahead as we sit up front getting a caffeine fix before heading off out for the day. Despite the fact that my charging lead is supposed to be delivered today, all tracking information say's it's still in Yorkshire. I remonstrate with the wankers at Royal Mail on Twitter, or is it X now? But they're not interested, the stock reply being "Yes, you've paid for our next day delivery service, but that's not guaranteed. Hope it arrives soon!"
Herself's foot is not itself, and Herself is suffering considerable pain, not being able to fully bear weight, so any repeat of yesterday's efforts is out of the question. A day not straying too far from Trude is required.
Turning right out of the pub car park we head firstly to Brook taking a sharp left up Roger Penny Way and left onto Forest Rd. First stop is Cadman's Pool where we give the dogs a good run to keep them quiet for a bit. From there we pass Bolderwood (it's packed out so don't stop) driving through some terrific scenery before stopping at James Hill for a wander through the trees.
We pass through Lyndhurst and onto Brockenhurst where we pull into the Forest Park Hotel for a spot of lunch.
With full bellies we press on along Rhinefield Rd and onto the Rhinefield and Bolderwood Ornameltal Drives.
We had planned to stop at the Bolderwood Deer sanctuary, but as earlier, the place was rammed, so we didn't bother, instead carrying on passed the Canadian War Memorial pulling into Bratley View where the chairs get set up to soak up some rays and the view.
Time to head back now, via Morrisons in Totten in a fruitless attempt to get a Calor Gas exchange. Skidding to a halt on the grass we waste no time in making tracks over to the pub, and set about on a hydration exercise.
We got so hydrated that going back to the van for tea didn't happen, instead ordering a few burgers off the menu to soak up some of the booze before retreating back when the dogs nagging for their tea become impossible to ignore any longer.
Thursday 17 August
According to the tracking info, my charging lead is still in Yorkshire. I spend 30 mins arguing online with "Kevin" from Amazon that even though he assures me it will be delivered by Saturday, that would be no good to me as I'll be 160 miles away in west Wales by then. I got a refund, only £3.80 but it was a point of principle!
We came down here with only one half full gas bottle, and it's been troubling me somewhat. The last 2 days I've been driving around with the empty to get an exchange done, but have been unable to find a stockist with stock! A bit of finger swiping this morning brings some success, and Jefferson in Ringwood confirms availability.
Herself sorts a breakfast of scrambled eggs before we scrub up and make tracks, firstly to Jefferson and then onto Bournemouth. There's a yellow vest guarding a cone at Boscombe Pier collecting parking fees. £16.50 he wants off me to park up, that's right, sixteen pounds effin fifty!!
Herself makes me pay and we slot Trude into a parking spot. Dogs are not allowed on the beach here, I can see the signs in daylight. No matter though, it'll do them good to have some on lead time. Clipped on they start pulling us in the direction of Bournemouth Pier. It's about 2.5km between the piers and I think we'd got about 500m before they calmed down and sussed they were not getting on the sand and into the sea.
The beach was busy in parts, honest it was, but people can get tetchy if you start taking pictures where half naked children are running about!
About half way we stopped off for a spot of lunch on the beach, well sort of, the El Murrino Beachside Kitchen extends out onto the sand.
Very nice it was too, they did have a VIP area roped off, but it cost £70 to go in there. We decided the view was just as good this side of the ropes so didn't bother, nor did anyone else for that matter. Carrying on, with full bellies we've not gone far and we come across "Who Dares Gyms" set up on the sand. Lucky for all the posers doing their stuff inside the enclosure that I'd just had lunch, or I'd have gone in and put them all to shame!
Getting closer to Bournemouth Pier and it's a lot busier. Seems crazy to me that families cram onto this small section of beach, with hardly and space between deck chairs of windbreaks when there's wide open space just a few yards further on! The pier has a zip slide on it, landing on the sand, no takers though, either everyone is too scared or it's prohibitively expensive for what must be a 10 second ride!
My money's on the latter (just looked at the website and it's £22 a go!!!). We carry on round the corner in the Lower Gardens under The Pavilion and the Bournemouth Observation Wheel, which was rotating with empty capsules, again punters of the opinion that £8 each a little too much to pay for one 10 min rotation - with only 2 min of that having a view worth looking at!
We sit people watching for a while, wildly speculating about stranger's private lives, before my phone pings. Despite all the tracking information saying otherwise, my charging lead is ready for collection in Lyndhurst, just 24 hrs late!
The 2.5 km back to Trude seemed to take forever.
Herself splashed out a whole £2 for parking adjacent to the visitor's centre in Lyndhurst, allowing a 2 hr stay. The first 20 mins of that is taken up queuing for a pee before collecting my, now free, charging lead. Herself decided that despite paying for two hours, she didn't really want to look in any of the shops!!
We walk down the road and take an outside table at The Mailman's arms. For those that don't know the area, this is directly next door to Meridian Modena, a Ferrari dealership. I'm quite taken with a 2017 grey (they call it Canna de Fussile) GTC4LUSSO with only 7300 miles on the clock. It was a bargain at £189,995 but Herself is adamant I wouldn't get in and out of it without soiling my pants, so regrettable had to let it go.
They must have some sort of event forthcoming, as while we sat there we were treated to the sights, sounds and smells of 4 classic Ferrari's being trailered in for display!
Back on site we've a Beef Bourguignon that's been festering away in the slow cooker all day, and I must say, served with mash, chantalay carrots and some sourdough bread, it was probably the tastiest meal of the week.
Having been on a lead for most of the day the dogs deserve some off lead time, so after the dishes are squared away we cross over the road into the wide open spaces of the Forest, enjoying a wander in the evening sunshine. The pub is avoided on return (gasp, I know, but I don't really fancy a pint tonight) and we hunker down inside the van for the rest of the evening, Herself watching a film from Prime's library and me mostly sleeping.
Friday 18 August
The plan this morning was to get up and take a little wander over in the trees for 5 mins me time, time to reflect. You see, 39 years ago today my dad passed away at just 43 years of age. The older I get the more I realise what he's missed out on. Never regret getting old, it's a privilege that far too many miss out on.
However, the rain hammering rain on the caravan roof kicks that idea into touch and I make do staring out into the monsoon with a latte and slice of coffee cake.
After a lazy morning it starts to clear up a little and Herself reminds me we've not got anything to take back for Beastie an Bwmps yet. By the time we've scrubbed up it's actually stopped raining. Heading off out we firstly stop off at Rufus Stone to walk the dogs through the forestry, throwing a ball as we go to wear them out.
We battle through the traffic in Lyndhurst and then divert through Brockenhurst for no other reason than to drive through the ford.
Tell the truth, I was a little disappointed. I was expecting a bit more depth after the rain. A few miles further on and we're parking up on High St in Lymington. The fee is quite reasonable at £2 for max 2 hrs, which will be more than enough for us.
We lucked out, just a few yards from Trude is Saltrock and immediately next door H.E.FIggURES TOYS. It's a lovely town centre, but once we'd got what we wanted it held little interest for us, so we retreated to the courtyard of the Angel & Blue Pig for a spot of lunch. Herself had a fish sandwich while a steak one was ordered for me.
I'll be frank, it was a touch on the rare side for my tastes, so much so I'm of the opinion that a good vet could have brought it back to life!!
With our 2 hrs nearly up we head back to Trude, and towards site. Hitting the lane between Brook and the site the child in me is chuffed that the ford that's been bone dry all week has water crossing it today. I went through it 3 times. 1st to drop off Herself, 2nd to reverse back through and 3rd for Herself to take a picture!
Back on site we set about breaking camp, chuffed to be able to drop and pack away the awning bone dry after the rains of last night and this morning.
With that done we freshen up and adjourn to the pub for an evening meal and a few pints, not too many though as I'm towing in the morning! Which is a shame, as the Maltsmiths were slipping down a treat!
The owners come over for a chat, lovely people they are, and we've got to know them reasonably well this week. There are wild animals entering the campsite each night, we know this as there's fresh droppings around the place every morning. Mel tells us it's deer, a few big stags. Herself now wants to sit up tonight in silence to watch out for them. She'll be on her own with the dogs!
Saturday 19 August
Sleep didn't come easy last night. The air was desperately muggy waiting for promised storms that never arrived. 7.30 am and we're up to complete breaking camp. 8.30 am and we're waving to the owners as we rattle over the cattle grid
8.45 am after a stop to run the dogs at Rufus Stone and we're on the road proper. The 85 miles cross country to the M4 through Salisbury and Westbury should have taken just under 90 mins, however due to traffic it's just over 2 hrs later that we're pulling into Leigh Delamare services for a stretch.
Rejoining the M4 westwards and it's not long before we're at a standstill, edging forward.
90 mins it took to travel the 30 miles to the bridge. It cleared briefly before we started approaching Newport, where once again we're more stop than go.
Five and a half hours it took us to travel the 158 miles home, and we're reminded as to why we always try to avoid travelling anywhere on a Saturday during the holiday season.
We thoroughly enjoyed our week away, lots of walking and lots of drinking, to excess when partying with the locals on Sunday. Oh, and my missing charging lead? Found it on my arm chair back at "Home is Where You Drag it Towers".
Until next time.
