Herself and I originally planned this break to go away just by ourselves. Some "us" time was the idea. Time away with just us to please, with a simple shopping list of being within walking distance of a pub, far enough to necessitate a little light exercise prior to and after getting inebriated in said pub.
The site was booked, and Herself is treating me to a fully serviced pitch this time. It was over a meal down our local pub one evening that she broke the news to Grumbles that we were away for a week mid August, after which she was subjected to some of the most intense emotional blackmail I have ever witnessed.
*Sad face switched on*
"I just wish I had some company to go away with. A companion you know."
"I'd go on some of these bus holidays, but don't fancy going on my own in case nobody wants to talk to me."
"The days are long when I don't come over to you for my evening meal."
It was that bad that herself looked at me when we got home, not saying a word. I filled the silence with
"Do you want to ask him if he wants to come and stay in a nearby B&B? The pub we'll be drinking in."
Now this is a man who's been on holiday to Somerset Shrewsbury and the Isle of Mann already this year with his u3a buddies, goes to breakfast 4 mornings out of 7, plays darts on a Thursday evening, boules on a Wednesday morning, and bowls 2 afternoons and 2 evenings every week. On top of that he's just come back from 2 weeks in Perranporth with us.
Next evening he comes over for his evening meal with us as usual.
*innocent face switched on*
"What made you change your mind about going on your own then?"
Herself almost choked on her rice!
Sunday 18 August
Herself is in work today, but before I set about completing loading up I pop over the road to the cemetery to have a chat. 40 years ago today my Dad passed away at just 43. He was my hero, the font of all knowledge, and he missed a great deal passing so young. He didn't see his children get married, didn't see any grand children let alone great grand children! The one thing I'm sure about though is that the good times would have been better and the bad times easier to bear if he'd been here with us to share them.
Of course the pain has eased somewhat as the years rolled by, but this year it seems quite raw again. I know it comes to us all eventually, at whatever age, but becoming an orphan leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable in the world. We have a little chat as I leave some flowers before making my excuses with stuff to do.
With the dogs in the boot, and van already hitched on, myself and Grumbles are parked up outside Herself's work at 3pm waiting for her to join us to hit the road with our @DerekTheWeather promising a rather mixed week ahead in his work of fiction.
Traffic was kind to us, apart from the usual chaos to get around Clartville and through the tunnels, and we're rolling up to the barrier at Exebridge at around 6pm to an excellent welcome from the wardens here. A bag of sweets even being handed over with the barrier card!
The van gets unhitched and I set about getting it set up while Herself takes Grumbles down to the Anchor Inn to get checked in. She returns having reserved a table for 7pm, it couldn't be any later as they stop serving food and Grumbles is distraught by now as it's well gone his usual tea time.
Leaving the awning until tomorrow we clip on the dogs and set off passed the lake and into a throng of Young Farmers doing Young farmer things.
Tea was lovely and was washed down with copious amounts of San Miguel, so much so that I don't really recall the walk back to site, nor changing before falling unconscious on the front bench catching gnats that came in through the open door.
Monday 19 August
I'm up and busy by 8am, completing setting up the van and erecting the awning, the task if which being somewhat laborious and fraught with danger as I risked the integrity of my fingers trying to hammer in my rock pegs into the ground that resembled concrete.
With only sore, but not broken, hands at 10am I'm able to announce to Facebookville that we is arrived proper and I pop down to get Grumbles and his full belly at the allotted time.
When I get back Herself is switching on the hot plate ready to cremate some sliced pig. Grumbles chirps up
"What are you cooking that for? I've had my breakfast."
"Well you may have, but we haven't!"
was accompanied by a filthy look from Herself that ensured he piped down and slurped his latte.
It's noon by the time we've motivated ourselves to go out just as it starts to drizzle. Not far first off, just a few miles to the Exmoor Distillery, where after a spot of sampling I get a bottle of their spiced rum, Herself some Gin, and Grumbles splashed out a whole fiver on a single bottle of their Berry Cider!
Rain accompanies us as we cross the moor on a rather slow journey behind a tractor. Dropping down Watersmeet into Lynmouth the sun bursts through and Herself and I abandon Grumbles to look around the model railway while we amble down browsing a few shops before taking seats outside the Rising Sun to engage in a serious spot of people watching.
It was while doing this out attention was caught by a selfish, thoughtless and entitled bitch who pulls up in her big Renault really close to a Kuga, that close her parking sensors would have had a breakdown!
We initially though she was just dropping the family off, but no, they get loaded up with fishing / crabbing gear, press the fob and bugger off. It's only 2 hrs free parking, so the Kuga owners are due back soon. I'm all for hanging around to witness the shitfest and record it for uploading on Tiktok, but Herself wants to get on. Grumbles sides with her, and we're back in Trude (with a new hippo footstool - don't ask) and climbing back up Watersmeet into the rain once more.
We have tea down The Anchor with grumbles, and a few drinks obv, before he bids us goodnight to go upstairs. Back at the van we're on our chinstraps, it's only 9.30pm but we're settled and ready for bed. That is before they decided to move Lakeside to Gazza!
Someone local has spaffed a small fortune on fireworks. I'm pretty sure folks in Minehead could hear them!
Tuesday 20 August
We wake and it's not long before the rain is hammering on the roof. Mun.
It's eased off by the time I head down to collect Grumbles and his full belly, grabbing a few tourist leaflets from the information room as we pass, looking for ideas for a day out today.
We've got a curry planned for tea, and to save time I've invested in a few pouches from East at Home to try out. On the packet it says for extra taste marinade the chicken in a Tandouri Massala or similar, so I delve into our spice tub, seal it all up in a food bag to work its magic while we're out for the day.
We point Trude's nose southwards and head cross country to Seaton Tramway, where a fleet of electric trolleys ferry 100,000 anoraks a year along the 3 mile stretch of track between Seaton and Colyton.
The tracks follow the banks of the River Exe and through the Wetlands where birdy people do birdy things with binoculars in one of the numerous hides dotted about the place!
It was a very enjoyable ride, and the scenery along the way quite something, that is is you ignore the shit works just before the end of the line! We alight at Colyton and have lunch on the platform, very good it was too, including a rather nice cider, but if I'd known at the time just how much Herself had coughed up at the till I may have choked on it.
Arriving back in Seaton we decide to make tracks back to site, where I get straight into JFO mode to conjure up a Chicken Madras for our tea.
Lovely it looked plated up, and we're all looking forward to delving in. Herself takes a mouthful and I can immediately tell all is not well.
"There's a bit of a kick to this!"
Grumbles agrees with her, as he usually does, and also makes a show of it being too hot. I take a fork full and I'll admit it's spicy, but struggle on through.
For those of you who went to The Poly of Wales in the late 1980s, you'll be more than familiar with the establishment "Sweaty Betty's". An Infamous curry house in the locality that used to serve not a Vindaloo but a Tindaloo. It would strip all the skin off your mouth, it was that hot.
Well, this isn't too far off that. Herself manages just two mouthfuls and is sweating. She won't eat it and fills up on rice, bread and Pakoras. Despite siding with Herself earlier and joining in on the verbal bashing, Grumbles demolished 2 plates, because he actually likes a hot curry.
The pennies start to drop in my head, but I'm not yet brave enough to fess up!
We walk Grumbles back to the pub and take a table in the bar area, settling in for an evening of cider and wine. After a few I'm feeling brave enough and fess up. You see, as you'll recall East at Home say to marinade the chicken first, so I did, except that instead of using a Tandoori Marsala, I inadvertently used a Tandoori Curry Powder, four heaped teaspoons of it!
Oh how Herself laughed.
Grumbles takes himself off to bed at 9pm leaving Herself and I to it, with an open tab for his room. We took full advantage, and Herself got dragged into talking to a rather strange couple. One advantage of being deaf is that I can often pretend not to be able to hear people at all, and coupled with my expert filthy look, people tend not to bother to converse with me unless I want them to!
Anyway, Herself was saying that we were caravanners and were staying on the site over the way, and it turns out this couple own their campsite in North Cornwall and are keen to give Herself a business card. I make a note of the name, and while Herself gets dragged further into their complicated lives I have a Google.
The first review is none too complimentary, in fact only one star (and that's because you can't give zero stars). the text goes on to mention that new arrivals are greeted with a sign warning dog owners to keep dogs on a short lead, which is fair enough, except the sign goes on to say that of your dog escapes and worries their geese they will shoot the dog without hesitation!
This is from a couple who are unable to control their own Golden Retriever in the confines of the bar! I hand the card back with a "Thanks, but we won't be needing this."
They left, so we stayed on for a while longer, ensuring that our walk back up to the caravan was that little more difficult.
Wednesday 21 August
After last night's shenanigans it was a slow start this morning. I manage to throw some sausages onto the hot plate to cook while I collect Grumbles. He's a lot brighter than me, but is moaning about the weather!
Herself and I could quite happily have spent the morning in bed nursing hangovers, but motivate ourselves enough to jump into Trude and head to the north coast today.
No sunshine to accompany the spin today, but the scenery is breathtaking none the less, and by the time we're cruising through Dunster and into Minehead, both Herself and I are in a better place.
Clouds are threatening though as we walk up The Avenue, and it starts to pick as we're outside The Hairy Dog. Grumbles doesn't do rain, of any sort or however light, so we dive inside to take cover.
It didn't come to anything, so after demolishing a few jacket spuds we continue to explore the myriad of junk and tat shops that are dotted between the fast food joints along this stretch. Up and down we went and I failed miserably in my quest to buy a tap splitter.
Herself's knackered knee is starting to play up so she wants to sit down. Grumbles again sides with her and says we've walked too far, so they're both going to sit outside The Beach Hotel while I carry on to look in Merlin's Underground Market along the front. Not until after I've been inside to queue at the bar and get them drinks mind! It's like neither know how to get drinks at a bar!
My phone pings, and I've been shamed by the site wardens on Twitter X for the heinous crime of incorrectly laying out my EHU cable. Did you know there was a correct way? Me neither. The usual pile on ensued and I'm now public enemy numero uno in Twitterville Xville. To add insult to injury the other warden also posts a picture of what he did to my carelessly laid out cable while cutting the grass around our pitch!
I'll add it to my list of complaints about this pair and this site!
I'm on my own in Trude as we head back to site, with all other occupants enjoying some personal contemplation time ..... again!
We stop opposite The Anchor for the dogs to have a play in the river, chasing stones to burn off some energy.
Eating in again this evening, so back on site I get into JFO mode and knock up some Kofta Kebabs and burgers, and get the Weber to do its magic.
Not late tonight, I drop Grumbles off at 8pm, Herself is in bed and snoring by 8.30pm and I manage another hour tapping some keys before turning in myself.
Thursday 22 August
Drizzling again while we breakfast then I go fetch Grumbles and his full belly from his digs, so we have a quiet morning around the van, myself and Grumbles grunting at each other over a few Lattes and Herself enjoying a bit of personal post breakfast contemplation time on the front benches.
Late morning and I'm getting cabin fever, so coach the others to get moving. Gwawr and Gwen need no coaxing and are in the boot like lightening.
Up over the moor to the north coast we head and the weather's not clearing up like our @DerekTheWeather has promised. The one day this week where his work of fiction has been inaccurate.
We pulled into the quagmire, masquerading as a car park at the Lynton & Barnstable Railway and I'm immediately disappointed as the pub, The Station Inn, that they advertise on their website and I thought was here at the line end, is not, and is actually another car ride away.
Nevertheless, while Grumbles is inside negotiating on the price of 3 adult tickets our ride pulls into the station.
We board, and settle down for the ride, noting for the very first time that the length of navigable track being just a mile long, so that would be a two mile return trip at £9 per person. Bloody hell mun, £4.50 per mile has to be one of the most expensive train journeys ever!
The railway is run by an educational charity, and their website waxes lyrical about the splendid views of Exmoor that are available from the comfort of the carriages along the "journey". We'll have to take their word for that as we could see no further than the immediately adjacent fields full of sheeps!
We didn't bother getting out at the other end as firstly there was nothing there, and secondly the wind was bringing in the rain horizontally!
Grumbles loses himself in the 2nd hand book shop on the platform for a while, well an age really, while Herself and I sit and watch dozens of fresh anoraks arriving for a ride. They're lucked out though as it appears their little jaunt up the track will be behind a diesel locomotive, probably due to the steam one running out of coal or something!
Trude escapes the quagmire with ease before we follow the road up to the Old Station House Inn at Barnstable. We take a window seat staring out into the gloom for lunch in the extremely dog friendly pub, and people watch as on one table a boyfriend desperately tries to impress his girlfriend's family and on another a little boy of about 5 years gets chastised by his end of her tether mother for, well for being a five year old boy!
Earlier on in the week when we were in Lynmouth Grumbles had remarked that he'd been there a few times but never visited Lynton at the top of the cliff railway. I divert off the A399 through the narrow lanes in the light drizzle pulling up in car park.
"What are we doing here?"
"Well, the other day your Dad said he'd never been here."
"Dad, do you want to get out and have a look around?"
"It's raining!"
We didn't stop and traversed the moor once more in howling winds and rain. Dropping down into Dulverton it starts to open up, and by the time we get back to site there's some sunshine and blue skies.
We waste no time in dragging the chairs out to soak up some unexpected vitamin D before scrubbing up for an evening of overindulgence down The Anchor, in the bar surrounded by dead stuff nailed to the walls.
News broke this morning that the Welsh actor Dewi 'Pws' Morris has passed away, probably best know for his portrayal of Glyn, Llwynhendy's answer to Sacha Distelle, in the 1978 comedy film "Grand Slam". A tale that follows the antics of villagers from just outside Llanelli on a rugby trip to Paris. It's an epic tale, and had legendary status in Wales, so returning to the van inebriated, I fire up YouTube and settle down to watch it for probably the 150th time!
Friday 23 August
I open the blinds with trepidation as my timeline is filled with destroyed awnings and flattened tents up and down the country. The storm overnight didn't come to much here, but maybe we're a little protected and I'm relieved to see our awning still pegged down and attached to the caravan. The trees have shed some leaves but @GailandmarkC is already out with his blower thingy making things presentable once more.
We need eggs so I head down towards Tiverton where we've seen two roadside stalls selling their own eggs. I pick up a dozen for £3 and head back, delayed at Black Cat while the Council deal with a tree that came down overnight fully blocking the B3227 to Bampton and partially the A396 into the National Park. It was a big tree.
The eggs were superb, and scrambled this morning they were bright orange, and not pale yellow like yesterday's supermarket ones.
With Grumbles collected we set the chairs out on the grass and enjoyed a day of doing nothing, absolutely nothing. The weather also played ball and whilst not quite used chip fat weather, we enjoyed a day soaking up some vitamin D. Grumbles even ditched his trousers and flashed his legs for a few hours.
Saturday 24 August
A few nights ago I'd sent a message off to a lady who is "Head of Engagement" no less at an organisation I have a lot to do with. She lives round these parts, and with a title like that she's bound to be able to give me some ideas!
Breakfasted, and under bright sunshine we hit the M5 south towards Exeter, pulling up in a rather tight car park near Exeter Quayside. The website says....
Exeter's Historic Quayside is one of the most attractive areas of the city, popular with locals and visitors alike for its fascinating history, interesting architecture and lively pubs and restaurants. Throughout the year events are held around the quay, everything from 10k runs to live music.
The Quayside has been enhanced to provide a fascinating mix of historic and contemporary design. It is the ideal place to browse in antique shops, walk and cycle, take a relaxing boat trip or find something good to eat. A wonderful place for everyone, whether you're looking to have an amble to take in the sights or perhaps something a bit more active, there's facilities on the quay to hire bikes and canoes.
Along the quay is an eclectic mix of cafes, restaurants, pubs and bars where you can enjoy good food, people watch and soak up the lovely atmosphere. Definitely a great place to spend a sunny afternoon.....
It started raining just as soon as we found a space barely big accommodate Trude's bulk and allow my bulk to exit Trude without damaging (too much) any adjacent cars. Grumbles is soon grumbling about the weather so we take cover under the umbrellas outside Venezia. No view of the river, but at least he's not grumbling quite as much.
It blows over soon enough, and we welcome the warm sunshine as we set off to explore. We ignore Grumbles looking longingly at the sign for Butts Ferry, taking a left then over the footbridge to the other side, soaking up some superb architecture along the way.
We lose him for the first time this afternoon (note first time here) for about 1/2 an hour as he explores the rather imaginatively named "Exeter's Antiques Centre on the Quay". Once he's done in there we take a wander browsing the selection of craft workshops and gift shops under the arches.
Sunday 25 August
Having done the hard part of breaking camp yesterday we didn't have much to do this morning, so are hitched up and saying goodbye to @GailandmarkC at 9.30am and heading down to The Anchor to collect Grumbles.
Herself surprises me with a
"Do you fancy breakfast?"
"Does the Pope shit in the woods?"
We barge past Grumbles on his way out, and take a table in the dining area to devour a plate of their goodness. Grumbles is on edge because this has deviated from his plan, and he shuffles nervously as we fill our bellies.
It's 10.15am by the time we get rolling proper and the M5 Gods were good to us, with our wheels continually rolling until we hit the end of the M49 and onto the M4 over the Severn Bridge (I still refuse to call it The Prince of Wales Bridge) where a lane is closed for "worker's" safety.
Not a worker in sight though, so while the workers are presumably spending the BH weekend in the pub, the working lane remains empty and the rest of us suffer in queues.
Another great week away, nice to have daily chats with @GailandmarkC as well as @Brooksontour and @MrBrooksOnTour who were also staying on site this week (are they ever home?).
Yes, the weather could have been better, but then again it could have been a lot worse. We raked over some old coals but also did and saw stuff that is new to us as well. We may also have hadd the odd drink.
FOOTNOTE - THE WARDEN COUPLE ON THIS SITE ARE GREAT. THE JIBES IN THE TEXT ABOVE ARE BANTER, JUST BANTER. WE REGULARLY TAKE THE PISS OUT OF EACH OTHER ON TWITTER X AND NO OFFENSE IS MEANT OR TAKEN (AT LEAST I HOPE NOT).
SAME GOES FOR GRUMBLES. PLEASE DO NOT MISTAKE BANTER FOR DISDAIN. I LOVE THAT MAN.
