Freezing Cold, Culture and Canals at Devizes

 It's been a while, Easter to be precise, since we've had the van out. This has mainly been down to Grumbles' poor health (seemingly having one issue after another) and Herself's understandable reluctance to leave him.  We've had 3 weeks away with him tagging along, but that was in Statics, which just isn't the same.

Anyway, he says touching every piece of wood within reach, Grumbles seems to be on an even keel for now, so Herself tentatively suggested maybe having a few nights away.  The first obstacle was navigating both our rammed work diaries before we could squeeze in 3 days off together.

I'd done the research and got a list of 8 possibles and 2 probables, all within staggering distance from a pub and no more that 130 miles from home.

Wednesday 19 November

I'd been in the East Midlands since Sunday in a Conference, so differently for us Herself was left to get all the stuff ready to go today.  On my return home yesterday piles of clothes and bags of shopping litter the house.

Things have changed though since we last dragged the van out way back at Easter.  We've had some work done at home which required the caravan to go in storage.  Originally I'd only signed a 3 month contract, but I'm getting no younger and am no longer able to wheel my balls round in a wheel barrow!  Edging the van out onto the road to take it to storage I was subjected to torrents of abuse, and I'm ashamed to say that I was chasing one driver with the mover engaging wrench.

A 12 month contract was signed and the van now resides in a CASOA Platinum storage yard a few miles from home.

We're loaded up, hitched up and making our way out of the double gates at 11.30am, and for the first time in 7 months we're shouting Wagons Roll.

Traffic was good as we joined the M4 at J48 and it stayed that way all the way to J17 where we exit onto a world of roundabouts until we take a right at the Three Magpies in Melksham and in through the gates on the Camping and Caravanning Club site at Devizes.

Quite a contrast to the Motorhome and Caravan Club though where you're treated like adults, check in and off you go.  The wardens were pleasant enough but the welcome was strained.  I was permitted to use the unisex disabled WC adjacent to reception only if I just wanted a pee!

Herself was given chapter and verse about the rules before we're escorted on foot onto the site to choose a pitch.  We then walk back to reception, the barrier is lifted before the male warden leads us to our pitch on his bike, even taking wide turns as if he was towing an 8m rig like me.

He leaves us to set up after warnings not to let any rubber come into contact with any grass.

We decide it's not worth putting the canopy up as there is no rain forecast and it'll be way to cold to site out there, so we're set up in no time.

I have to add here that I reversed the rig onto the pitch, and it's in place without the need to use the mover - bang on.  I really should have had Herself to record the maneuver to be posted all over the book and X to give the impression that I'm the only person ever to reverse a caravan!!

Heating gets turned on and we adjourn to the Three Magpies next door for a drink next to their log burner and a bite to eat.

Food was nice and it would have been easy to stop in front of the fire for a messy evening, but to be honest we've spent so little time in the caravan in 2025 we just wanted to return and snuggle down for the evening.  So we did!

Thursday 20 November

It dropped to minus 4 overnight, but with the heating having been run and an electric blanket switched on under the duvet to warm the bed I was toasty warm overnight.  Herself claimed she'd been freezing!

She got up to light a flame under the kettle, but I'm soon being shaken.  No water!

I go out to investigate.  The Aquaroll is inside a jacket and is not frozen, however the pistol pick up feels rather stiff.  That gets pulled off and thrown in the shower to thaw.

We always carry a 5 litre container with us filled with water for the dogs, and it was freshly filled yesterday morning before leaving.  That is retrieved and the no morning cuppa disaster is reverted.  

Should I put a thumb nail with horrified faces and a caption that would have the UN on standby just to draw attention to myself or not? 

Herself sorts out breakfast, just porridge this morning, but with the solid ground outside it was very welcome and satisfying.  Some finger swiping tells me it's Market Day in Devizes.  I loves a market I do.  We scrub up and get out parking up at the Wharf Car Park where I'm delighted to note that with "OUR" new Blue Badge we can park up for 3 hours free.

Herself is double layered and dosed up with enough pain killers to put a horse to sleep as we set off to find the market.

What a great little market it was, we procured some Indian goodies from an Indian bloke's stall and some cockles from a Fishmonger before setting off for a mooch around Devizes.

What a nice little town, with a sizable array of independent shops mixed in with the usual corporate dross.  Why would anyone buy from Greggs with so many artisan bakers dotted about?

The area is obviously doing OK, with many well heeled people wandering about.  Don't get me wrong, there were also a few that have fallen on hard times, sat shivering with just a piece of cardboard between them and the ice cold pavement.  If you choose not to give that's your decision, but quite why some of the well heeled folk felt the need to stop to bend down and say to them "Why don't you just move on!" is beyond me.

Despite being layered up and dosed up Herself's knees are screaming at her.  It's not 11.30am yet, but I suggest finding a pub for a sit down and a warm.  Herself says "Isn't it a bit early?" as we pass the side window of The Three Crowns, where perched at a table are three gents supping on pints of Wadsworth's finest.  "Obviously not" she quips as we dive into the welcoming warmth of the extremely dog friendly establishment.

Herself has a plan for this afternoon, but to facilitate that we need to reduce the step count here and she needs to overdose on pain killers once more.  We return to site and stop long enough to have a pee before setting off along the canal path.  Herself had been talking to the warden and been told there was a really nice pub just over a mile away.  I knew this but hadn't said due to Herself's knees.

Anyway, if the worst came to the worst the canal is crossed by 3 or 4 roads between site and pub and I could have doubled back to get the car.

The horse pain killers did the job though and we ambled along as military choppers circled overhead, tied up boats filled the air with wood smoke and holiday boats did battle with the locks.

A pleasant stroll in the sunshine it was, but lets just say the Barge Inn was a very welcome sight.

We dive inside the very welcoming canal side establishment, giving dirty looks to the couple occupying the only table next to the roaring open fire, and taking a seat further inside.  This place isn't just Dog Friendly, it positively welcomes them with a water station provided with dozens of bowls and jars full of free treats for them.

Herself works her way through a bottle of Sauvignon flavoured anesthetic while I partake in some of Henry Westons' finest.

We had a wonderful lunch and afternoon, but in the 2 and a bit hours we were sat there I may have accidentally consumed 6 pints of Henry's apple juice.  I was thirsty Ok!

Now those of you familiar with zoider will know that this particular zoider isn't really designed for gulping, you can do as it's so easy to pour down your neck, but with an ABV of 7.3% has the capability to do some damage.

It did, and with day light fading quickly the walk back along the canal path requires a revised Risk Assessment to be carried out, as I knew what would happen as soon as I got out into the crisp fresh air.

It hit me like a sledgehammer, but we made it back, even if I needed 3 or 4 pee stops on the way.  Herself breathes a sign of relief as I climb into the van and perch on one of the front benches, where the warm air does its work and I fall asleep on my chinstraps.

I wake up briefly to attack the Indian snacks we'd procured earlier for this very purpose before going to bed where I stayed for the rest of the night.

Friday 21 November

Great night's kip last night and we het up just after 7am.  I'd taken the precaution of bringing the Truma pistol feeder inside last night, so with some hot water from the dishwash area pored over the inlet and pistol reconnected we have water this morning.

I head over for a shower and upon my return I'm delighted that Herself has got a cooked breakfast on the go.

When Herself does a cooked breakfast she does a cooked breakfast!

After clearing up we have a lazy morning.  Herself takes herself back to bed for a lie down and I take the opportunity to get lost in a Chris Ryan book into world of people being tortured by MI5.

The one place I've wanted to visit while here is Marlborough, and I've wanted to go there since Grumbles visited a few years back with U3A, why I can't explain, but I did.  We're all piled in Trude and enjoy the sunshine on our chops as we traverse the poker straight roads that seem to be prevalent in this part of the world.

We hit a wall of tail lights approaching the town centre as the road winds it's way around Marborough College, with posh pupils darting around thinking they're better than others because their parents are coughing £61k a year for them to get an education.

Quite why they think that is questionable seeing that the college is currently embroiled in controversy after having sacked a male teacher for telling an inappropriate joke, and that teacher deciding he didn't want to live anymore!

We roll onto High St and it's chaos central, drivers fighting for parking spaces while the through traffic lean on their horns impatiently.  We manage to find a space being vacated and I ignore the horns behind me sitting there with my indicator blinking.

We set off for a mooch, but to be frank, we're not really feeling this place.  It has no charm and the people are rude.  We do one circuit before taking a table outside the Castle and Ball for a drink and a spot of people watching.  Yes, outside mind, in November!

Even the Barman was rude as if it was too much trouble to pour a cider and beer! It also appears that paying parking fees is considered optional to locals as we watched at least 3 cars pull up with owners darting off without using the pay and display!

We couldn't wait to get out of the place.  We'd seen a rather interesting tump on the way here so pulled off the A4 on the way back to investigate.  Turns out that Sibury Hill is the largest prehistoric man made mound in Europe and is one of many monuments around Avebury dating back to the Bronze Age, and is an English Heritage site.

What was funny though was a minibus full of students from The Royal Agricultural University had been dragged here on a field trip.  They couldn't have been less interested in their lecturers ramblings if they tried, and he was absolutely crestfallen when they all turned round to face us, more interested in Gwawr and Gwen than the tump they were here to see!

One more stop on the way back.  I'd wanted to see the famous Caen Hill Locks just outside Devizes.

Following the signs we end up in the Public Parking area at the top. It costs £4 to park here and under Herself's instruction I reluctantly trudge over to the Turpin machine and I'm in the middle of being robbed when I spot a ticket stuffed behind the perspex.  I pull it out and note it's still valid until midnight.  Cancel, cancel, cancel before making my way back smiling from ear to ear!

We clip the dogs on and head off for an explore.  The flight of 29 locks rises 237ft over 2 miles and is some feat of engineering.

I understand it takes best part of a day to traverse the locks in a boat, it didn't take us that long to do the circular walk and we're off back to site to chill for a bit after first putting the ticket back in the machine for someone else to use.

We've a table booked at the Three Magpies for 6pm, but by 4.30pm breakfast is a distant memory, so we freshen up and head on over.  Kitchen doesn't open until 5.30pm, but at least we'll be there when it does.

The evening got messy and by the time we're heading back the Thatchers had done it's job, and I was once again feeling no pain whatsoever.

Saturday 22 November

We wake to the sound of rain on the roof, Herself informs me it's been raining most of the night.  The temperature has also risen, so we have running water this morning for the first time this week.

I hatch a plan over breakfast that ensures we'll be able to spend some time in the car as well as taking in some culture.

Loaded up and I point Trude's nose towards the historic medieval village of Lacock.  The village is renown for being a popular filming location for both Downtown Abbey and Harry Potter, I've never watched the former and so many places now claim to have a connection with the latter, it's no big deal any more.  I've just read the Pride and Prejudice was also filmed here, but I've not watched that either.

The only thing I can think of is it's the term that the French rugby team will be using when referring to young Henry Pollock in this years Six Nations.

We park up for free behind the Red Lion and decide to give The Abbey a miss, instead choosing to wander the streets to take a look at the well preserved medieval and 18th Century buildings.

First stop is the Tythe Barn on East Street, built in the 14th Century it's fairing well, with the help of the National Trust who own most of the village, and is probably in better nick now that a new build Persimmon Homes effort.

 

I'm impressed with the detail of the roof while Herself taps her feet impatient to move on.  A little further on there's an artisan and gift fair going on in the village hall, also promising a book signing today.  Sat on the first table is none other that children's author Sue Tweedy - no I've never heard of her either - and Herself gets the plastic out to have 3 titles signed by her to take back for Beastie and Bwmps.

Carrying on we turn right onto Church Street where sitting at the end is The Potters House , a property owned by National Trust which you can rent out for just £440 per night in the depths of December.

Round the corner we go onto High St and stop briefly to have a look in the National Trust shop.  Herself didn't like the Hares as they had no expression, so we head over the road to The Red Lion.

Heading inside we were halted by "Front of House"

"Have you booked?"

"Er, no."

"Then I'm afraid we're full.  You can sit outside if you want."

"Have you seen the weather out there?"

"You could try The George."

"Thanks for your help."

Not wanting to traipse back up the road we decided to call it a day, except when we rounded the corner Herself spotted the halogen heaters under the canopy.  She sits down and I go into get some drinks.  I spot the board adjacent to the bar offering "Soup of the Day" and decide to give it a go.

"Pint of Thatchers, Pint of Westons, and 2 soup of the day please."

"Do you have a table number?"

"No, but we're sat outside, and we're the only ones out there."

"I'll need  a table number to be able to book the order."

"Can't you guess?"

"No, you'll need to go back outside to get it."

"Never mind, just the ciders then."

I go back out, joining Herself under the glow of the halogens and explain the charade of inside.  She persuades me to have soup and to go back in.  She moves our bags to one side and we note that our table does not benefit from having a number.  Now the evil side of me actually wants go back inside.

"A pint of Westons, bag of Pork Scratchings (for the dogs) and ONE SOUP please."

"Yes of course."

She's side stepped me now.

"Our table DOES NOT HAVE A NUMBER."

"That's Ok, are you sat in the middle somewhere?"

"Yes under the heaters."

"Someone will bring the soup out soon!"

I left the bar clicking and twitching!

The soup came, and I wish it hadn't.  Luke warm and so bland and under seasoned I contemplated pouring the content of the salt and pepper grinders directly into it.

It started hammering down proper while sat under the canopy and Trude's wipers were flat out all the way to our next destination, through the amusingly named villages of Tiddleywink and Kents Bottom.  Dropping down into Castle Combe the rain is biblical so we saw it through Trude's windows.  I didn't even suggest stopping to get out.

Wiltshire has a series of White Horses carved into hillsides, and we've seen probably the most famous and accessible one at Westbury.  Google tells us the most recent one is close to Devizes, dating just to 1999 and was carved into the hillside to celebrate the Millennium.  We followed the roads to Roundway, but despite the horse measuring 45m x 45m and supposed to be carved into the chalk hillside overlooking the village we failed to find it, or the hill it was supposed to be carved into.

We call it a day and return back to the caravan.  Herself does some magic and I'm able to watch Wales take on the mighty All Blacks on her laptop.  As feared we were beaten well, but at least we showed signs of promise scoring 4 well taken tries.

Night in tonight, and we have minted lamb burgers procured from a butcher in Devizes washed down with a few bottles of Henry Westons.

Bit of a damp squid today, especially after the glorious few days prior, but the van does look nice and cosy on my way back from the block.

Sunday 23 November

Both up early this morning and with very little to do in the way of breaking camp, we're hitched up and rolling out by 8.45am.

The two inconsiderate gits pitched on the tight corner have parked passively aggressively since they got here, and it took some care to get the rig round the corner without taking out the post in place to stop outfits cutting the corner and onto the grass.

The tow home was uneventful, and once clear of the hundreds on roundabouts and onto the M4 the cruise control was set to 60 and I let Trude do the work.

I'm really starting to like having the van in storage.  There was no sending a text to the Captain asking for his car to me moved, and there was no leaning on horns or abuse from very impatient drivers.  We're in through the double lock gates, the van is on it's spot and unloaded into Trude all within 30  mins.

A great few nights away, and I'm grateful to Herself  for being brave enough to leave Grumbles for a few nights for us to be able to have some us time.  We liked Wiltshire, we liked Wiltshire a lot, but the highlight for us was the walk along the canal on Thursday and an afternoon growing old disgracefully in The Barge Inn.

Until next time

Parking Wars and Road Rage in Peak Season Cornwall

 Another jaunt without our own caravan.  Grumbles isn't getting any younger, and Herself, understandably so, is reluctant to leave him for more than just a few nights.  That and him having to cancel his two holidays that he'd booked for himself this summer .... reluctantly coming to the conclusion that he's not really up to travelling solo any more.

Haven was coming out at a couple of grand for a week away this time of year, so other options were explored.  John Fowler was considerably cheaper, but we'd hear the rumors!  We roundly ignored them and booked a week away!

Monday 18 August

After weeks of endless blue skies we're setting off in the gloom, climbing the sliproad ay J48 at 10am.  Traffic was good apart from Bristol to Bridgewater, but at least we weren't travelling northbound as that was a queue from Taunton to Bristol!

A comfort break was taken at Taunton Dean for a pee and pasties before pressing on further into the West Country.

We're crossing the Tamar Bridge into Kernow with loads of time to spare, and unable to book in until 4pm, so hang a left taking the road down to Seaton and The Smugglers Inn to waste some time.

Looe is busy as we pass through and we're pulling up outside reception at Kilgarth Manor just after 3pm, on the off chance we can check in early.

Reception is plush, and our expectations are raised.  The young lady guarding the desk is very helpful, and after filling out a form with the names of our dogs we're on our way clutching a stuffed envelope.

The van is great, far superior to anything we've had with Haven, and we're unpacked and arrived in no time.

Herself fesses up that she forgot to pack tea bags, and also has no wine!  I'm not getting stiffed by the onsite Mace so we head back down to Looe and the Co-op where we hope the prices would be slightly less eye watering.

I've only just come out doing a farmer's walk and see Herself hanging onto Gwawr for dear like after a massive clap of thunder. We need to get her back in the car sharpish, because if another one comes Herself will not be able to hold onto her.

We're scurrying through the narrow streets.  Herself is being dragged at a rate of knots by the girls, my hands are giving me some grief doing the Farmer's Walk, and Grumbles is doing his very best to not let his trousers fall to his ankles (he's lost some weight since his operation).

Back at the van unpacking we discover that despite going in for just tea bags and wine, and coming out with 2 full and heavy bags, I'd actually forgotten the tea bags!

Think Twin Town and Bryn Cartwright and you'll know what words Herself is uttering in my direction.

Grumbles is hungry, so 5.30pm sees us trundling down to the Manorhouse for some food.  Dogs aren't allowed in the restaurant itself, but there's an area in the main clubhouse that they are.  We settle down in our segregated corner, get the order in and watch on as Stripey Nathan's understudy gives it some beans getting the room warmed up for the evening's shenanigans!

We've not been sat long and Grumbles is getting agitated.  His food is taking far too long to arrive for his liking!  He's starting to spit nails at tables that get their food before ours, even though they sat and ordered before us!

I go up to the bar to get him a bag of crisps in an effort to placate him so we can relax and enjoy the evening.  I shall be putting myself forward for a Nobel Peace Prize.

Stripey Nathan's understudy is ramping things up on the dance floor with the kids party dances, and security starts to get serious.  You'd think this guy was guarding Cat A prisoners in Belmarsh not having to break up a fracas between 2 toddlers fighting over a lollypop!

Our food arrives, only first out is Myself and Herself's pizzas! For a second I thought Grumbles was going to either cry or storm off to punch Stripey Nathan's understudy straight in the throat!  His came 2 mins an eternity (to him) later, and he's attacking it with his bare hands before the waitress can put the plate on the table!

Bingo time, and shit just got serious in the room as a deathly silence falls over it.  I get a look from Ross Kemp for talking too loud as the numbers roll.

The table next to us shouts for the first line at £32 and they get warm congratulations (as well as envious looks) from all around.  They're off again, this time playing for a line at £44.  People all around are having a sweat (as Coupons used to say) then the same table next to us shouts for prize. This time though their walk up to the stage was accompanied by disapproving looks and mutterings.

We're now playing for a full house at £72 and you could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife.  All eyes are on the table next to us, and I'm pretty sure the old git 2 tables down got out a set of knuckle dusters.  Thankfully someone the other side of the room shouts, and Ross Kemp takes his finger off the button on his comms, standing down reinforcements!

Grumbles is knackered, so we head back to the van where he goes straight to bed.  Herself and I sit up chatting for a while, but it's not a late night for us either.

Tuesday 19 August

Gloomy skies again, and by 8.30am we have the sound of rain on the roof.  Looking at the Ring doorbell does nothing to lift the mood either as the weather is fine at home!

Grumbles gets up for a pee and asks what time he needs to get up.  He's been in bed since before 9pm last night but looks like he could do with a few more hours personal contemplation time.

Herself only packed 1/2 a pair of daps for herself, numerous pairs of open toe sandals (probably enough for a different pair every day), but only 1/2 a pair of daps.  That'll do her knackered knees no good at all so we need to source a new pair poste haste.

Oh, and as a side note, because of her knackered knees "we" now have a blue disabled badge.

Loading the dogs into Trude we leave Grumbles snoring and head down into Looe.  Google tells me that Mountain Warehouse sells Asics daps as does another shop on the quayside.

Google is misinformed.  Mountain Warehouse only had one pair of men's daps, and even they were not Asics.  The other shop was closed, and even peeking through the windows the only footwear they has were flip flops!

A Sketchers shop comes to the rescue, and Herself's toes are now toasty warm.  She kept them on.

Back at the van Grumbles is now up and tapping his fingers waiting for our return so we can make him a coffee and sort some breakfast.

Over a bacon sandwich I look at some web cams and the weather looks a little brighter a little further west, so Fowey is to be the first destination of the day.  We take the lanes from Polperro to catch the Bodinnick Ferry over the river.  We've never actually visited Fowey so are quite looking forward to it.

Dropping down the hill we hit the back of the queue at a gap in the walls / buildings and are able to enjoy the view down river as we wait.

It's one of the things I like about visiting the south coast of Devon and Cornwall, a car ferry ride.  We could of course drive around, but where's the fun in that?

Back on dry land we seek out a parking space.  First the Caffa Mill car park just off the slip.  Four circuits and some loitering were fruitless so we head up the road to the "main" car park off Passage Lane.  That was chocca too, so we go back down to Caffa Mill.  No joy again, so after another go at Passage Lane we abandon our efforts and head off.

We now realise why we've never visited Fowey.  We can never bloody park!

It's still dry - just - as we drop down Valley Rd into Mevagissey and we hit tail lights waiting for spaces in the car park.  That sinking feeling!  However at least the queue was moving.  We get to the front and the bloke says we'll need to wait until a space comes available in the main area.

I flash "our" blue badge and after coughing £7 for 4hrs we're escorted to a space around the back of Willow Trading.  We fight our way through traffic and crowds down to the harbour and our luck runs out.  It starts to rain and everyone is diving for cover.

We dash around in vein trying to find somewhere to sit it out and have a drink, but all places are full of others sitting it out.  A fair portion of them taking the piss though, sat at tables with no drinks in front of them, no doubt hoping the rain will stop before they need to put their hands in their pockets! Scumbags.

We're just about to give up and I spot a gate off Church St leading to the Smugglers Cellar Bar.  They allow dogs so we dive for cover.

What a quirky little place!

It stops raining while we're in there, we we head down to the harbour again, browsing some gift shops and picking up some pasties for a late lunch to be eaten in Trude on the way back to site via the scenic route.

An attempt was made to stop off in Looe, but after circling the car parks a few times we give up and head back to site, enjoying a little time on the deck as the weather clears.

Wednesday 20 August

After a full breakfast it's an early start this morning, and we make the short journey down to Polperro.  We know from past experience that the car park is a rip off, and were prepared to cough nearly a tenner for just a few hour's parking.

They twisted the knife this year though.  It's cash only, and only accept coins.  I spot a change machine, feed in a brown note and it starts to drop £1 coins one after another, until I count to 9 and it stops.  The screen flashed "empty" at me with no apology.

Grumbles 85 year old legs are grateful of the Tuk Tuk ride down into the village while I walk down with the dogs.  It would appear that Polperro doesn't do mornings and we walk the closed up shops along narrow streets down to the beach before turning around and heading back to the Three Pilchards to waste some time.

We exit into bright sunshine and the shops are starting to open up.  The doggy shop is entertaining as the owner can't hide his disgust at the little snappy dogs coming in and out, and goes out of his was to tell Herself how much he likes Border Collies!

We're done and time to head back up to the car park.  Herself and Grumbles let the Tuk Tuk take the strain while I walk back up with the dogs.

I was a little slower walking up than I was down and Grumbles is stood at the mini roundabout impatiently tapping his feet by the time I get there.

We head to Looe in an attempt to park and do some gift shopping, but the place is rammed and after several circuits we abandon the effort and head back to have lunch on the decking and chill for a few hours.

Come evening we head down to The Smugglers (nearly every establishment we've been in this week has been called "Smugglers") for an evening meal and a few drinkies.  Tonight we are entertained by the real deal Stripey Nathan, and not his understudy!

He's loud, very loud, and not long after he starts ramping it up we adjourn to the quiet seating area next door!

Thursday 21 August

Big day planned today. Herself is shaking me at 8am and there's a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea waiting for me on the table.

We're going on a chuff chuff and want to catch the first one of the day in the hope it will be less busy.

We're purchasing "All Line" tickets with plenty of time to spare before the 10.30am departure.

Bit of a strange one this.  It's a 13 mile journey that takes 2 hours, and it's fair to say that a large portion of that time is spent sitting in stations.  Our first leg today saw us departing Bodmin Station and descending the steeply graded track (the ruling gradient being 1:37 to 1:44) to Bodmin Parkway.

Here the engine uncouples to go to the other end to haul us back up to Bodmin Station, with drive having to give it some serious beans.

A stop of 1/2 hr is now required for the engine to change ends and take on water, before leaving once more and heading in the other direction towards Boscarn Junction.  The track drops steeply (ruling gradient 1:40) and around a tight bend, so tight that a check rail is required to keep the train's wheels in place.

With it now being past 11am we feel comfortable to avail ourselves of the buffet car, and procure some Rattler Cider.

We were the first ones in our carriage to break with many others following, and a parade of Rattler and Korev bottles made their way to other tables.

At Boscarn the engine uncouples once more for a "run around" before hauling us back up to Bodmin at a crawl.

Back in the car we get the road atlas out to see what's about.  We focus on an area up on Bodmin Moor with lots of red icons depicting where there is something to see or do.  Fantastic as the scenery is, we didn't find any of them, but did happen across a lovely looking pub called The Crows Nest in Darite.

Well it would have been rude not to stop, but having already had a Rattler on the train I'm restricted to a Coke Zero.  I was chuffed a you can see.

We try our luck in Looe passing through.  3 circuits of the car parks with no luck, so we head off back to site to chill on the decking and catch some rays.

Clearing away the tea dishes we decide to give Looe another go for an evening walk.  We round the corner to see a queue of cars stationary, waiting for a lorry to move.  Spotting an empty space I ignore Herself's protestations and enter through the exit, slotting into the space.  (I may also have reversed into a plastic traffic bollard, scuffing Trude's rear bumper.  But we won't talk about that.)

The shop we want is shut, so we head off further into Fore St.  It's shut, it appears shops in Looe don't want tourist coin as much as those in Perranporth or Newquay!  We walk the streets and quayside looking for a table to sit and have a drink in the evening sunshine, with no luck.

We did see one table outside Yamas and were settling down when some git says to Herself "We were going to sit there, my mate has just gone in to ask if we can push tables together."  Herself doesn't want the confrontation so walks away.  I'm different, and can't resist giving him the evils while muttering "Didn't see your name in it dickhead!"

Back on site we head down to Smugglers for a drink.  There's a Kid's Karaoke going on.  A young girl is giving it her all.  Her dad is sat on the next table to us and he's well into it (well you would be wouldn't you).  For those that have watched the movie Twin Town, think of the scene in Barons when Bonnie is singing, and Bryn (her Dad) hanging off every note.  Well that, but without the Lewis twins pissing all over her!

Stripey Nathan cranks up the volume and we retire once again to the quiet area next door. 

Friday 22 August

After last  night's failed efforts we were determined to get a parking space in Looe.  Herself wakes Grumbles and ignores his protests about breakfast, or the lack of it, and we roll down the hill into Looe early doors.

Even this early people are fighting over spaces.  We do a circuit on Fore St before trying Station Rd. Ziltch. Back in Fore St we spot a space that we need to double back on ourselves for, round the corner and bingo, no cars in front of us.  I start to reverse Trude down the dead end and into the space where a young lady is stood guarding it for someone.

I carry on reversing and she carries on waving her arms and shouting that it was their space!  I continue to edge backwards, it's just not on people running around the car park on foot "reserving" spaces!  The car she was reserving the space for drives into the cul-de-sac and assesses the situation.  I engage reverse once more and Trude's sensors are not having a fit.  They saw sense and backed off.

The shop we've come down here for doesn't open until 10.30am (What is about shops here? Open late and close early) so we adjourn to a window table in Dotty's cafe for what turned out to be an excellent breakfast people watching the passing throngs.

With full bellies we step outside and in through the doors of the Ty shop.  I didn't know Ty was a thing, come to think of it I've never heard of them either, but apparently they are a thing, and all the rage with the kids.  Herself goes in, and confers with Beastie and Bwmps at home via video call before coming out clutching some very expensive soft toys.

These iconic pellet stuffed toys are named after their creator H Ty Warner, and the coveted collectable started a craze in the 1990s making him a billionaire - having seen how much they go for I can appreciate how easily he made his fortune!

We wander through the streets, browsing in the now open shops before hitting the paved area above East Looe Beach, and take a seat to rest Grumbles' 85 year old legs and Herself's knackered knees.

Back up the quay side we head and Grumbles seems to be fascinated by the hoards dangling crabbing line over the edge, so much so we have to drag him away.  It's still quite early, but it's 12 O Clock somewhere and we're thirsty after the breakfast.  We spot some shaded seating at Botel and dive in for what was a really nice cider from inside of the cage.

Back at Trude I'm relieved to note that the young lady that lost the game of chicken earlier hasn't come back to leave us a reminder of our visit.  We jump in and head north towards Launceston.  Only 25 miles, but much of it along single track lanes with passing places.  Grumbles remarked that I'd spent more time reversing than going forward.  It was stressful and were relieved to turn right off St Thomas Hill following the brown signs.

We're looking forward to riding the heritage railway that offers 5 mile round trips and visiting the museum they advertise.  The gates are chained shut with a small sign pinned to them.  They're not open today!!

Tamping I was. You've seen Nation Lampoon's Vacation?  The bit where they've driven across The States to Wally World, and it's closed, and Clarke Griswold loses his shit?

Yeah that!

Fess up time.  Last night when looking for something to do today, I was doing so on my phone.  I don't really do internet on my phone as the screen is too small and some website don't readily convert to phone use.  This is one of them. On checking back at the van there is a tab on the far right of the screen that takes you to a calendar showing days they are open!

Herself is thinking quickly now, trying to rescue the rest of the day, and suggests popping into the Co-op for a picnic and calling somewhere on the way back.

We're not long out of Launceston when we approach some traffic calming in the shape of an island.  Signs indicate I have priority over oncoming traffic and the approaching motorbike comes to a halt.  Bear in mind now I'm still a bit off after having driven an hour to find the railway closed.  As I drive though the biker starts to wave his arms, shaking his head and gave me a two fingered salute.

I'm not having it, slam  on the brakes.  He looks round and is still waving his arms.  I reverse back up the hill and wind down the window.  He's quite red in the face and the inside of his visor is covered in spittle.  I'm wondering what on earth I've done to infuriate him.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"You didn't say thank you after I stopped to let you through."

"Pardon?"

"You didn't say thank you after I stopped to let you through."

"Err, you were legally obliged to do so, I had priority."

"You should still have raised your hand to say thankyou!"

"For doing something you could be fined for not doing?"

"Fucking Emmetts!"

He engaged first revved up and stalled on the hill.

Onwards we travel.  Herself asks if I'd like to pick a fight with anyone else today.

We spot a brown sign that sounds good and take a right turn through the lanes of Bodmin Moor.  Good job we were following the map on Trude's info system because once more we ran out of brown signs.  Heading for a big blue patch on the screen we're pulling into the car park adjacent to Siblyback Lake to enjoy lunch in the sunshine soaking in the view.

Enough for today, we've been out since 9am so head back to site to chill and relax for a while.  A while turned out to be all evening as well with Grumbles and Herself in no mood to venture out once more.

Saturday 23 August

Grumbles not too good this morning, he's had a bad night.  Apparently this is my fault as I FORCED him to eat a cream tea yesterday evening!

11am and Herself has had enough of his pitty party and asks where we are going. A plan is hatched in my head that doesn't involve him putting in too much physical effort.

Loaded into Trude we pass through Looe then hang a right down to Seaton and through Downderry onto the Military Road along onto the Rame Peninsular with spectacular sea views.

We then follow the signs to Torpoint and the ferry that will take us over the Tamar.  We could have done the bridge, but the toll on that is the same as the ferry, and this is more fun.

Alighting at Devonport we follow signs for The Hoe, snaking our way through some of the less salubrious parts of the city.

Winding our way up Hoe Rd we flash "our" new Blue Badge and are admitted into the free car park for disabled visitors up on Hoe Promenade, with strict instructions to use hazards lights when driving on said promenade.

We take up seats with a view and settle down for some relaxation time enjoying the peace and quiet.

It wasn't to last though.  We hear a din approaching from behind, and as it gets closer we work out it's a "Free Palestine" march.  Not to worry, they'll pass now.  But they didn't.  They targeted our benches and surrounded us, chanting and waving banners.

I have sympathy for the cause, I really do.  They could have chosen anywhere on the prom to gather, but they didn't, they chose to gather round us in an intimidatory fashion and proceeded to take group photographs, including us.

We got up.  I politely told the leader it was a bit off.  Grumbles was less polite.

Down on Hoe Rd we grab a table at Pier One for refreshments and lunch with a view out towards Plymouth Breakwater and boats doing boaty stuff on the calm sea.

Heading back up onto the prom we pass by Tinside Lido.  It looks tingly cold from the heat up here, and the shrieks of an older gentleman entering the water testify to the same!

On opening up Trude we're hit by a wall of heat, so stand around admiring our surroundings while she cools down.

Grumbles had been playing a game with Herself this morning.  He obviously wants a Sunday Dinner tomorrow, but instead of just saying so he plays the confused card!

"Are we booking anywhere for Sunday Lunch tomorrow?"

"Why?"

"Well we usually do, don't we."

"Err, no.  We've never done that."

Back copies of this Blog will demonstrate that.

"I thought we always did when away!"

"Err, no Dad, we don't."

Herself isn't happy as she's not really a fan of cooked dinners, but we drop down into Seaton and call at The Smugglers for refreshments and to book a table for tomorrow.

I'm a little pissed off too at the thought of wasting our last day down here going for Sunday bloody lunch, so take myself off to have a shower and lie down back at the van.

The lie down lasted two full hours, and it's gone 7pm when I stir.  Grumbles isn't going anywhere this evening, so Herself makes him a sandwich before we head down the hill for a few drinks.

A few turned into a few more and they're shutting up shop at 10.30pm when we venture back up the hill.

Sunday 24 August

Over a morning cuppa taken out on the decking Herself and I decide we'll travel home this evening, rather than be sat stationary on the M5 tomorrow in the Bank Holiday Traffic.

A lazy morning is had before having a semi scrub up to head out for lunch. I do a few circuits of the car park in Looe while Herself hobbles over to the bakery to pick up some pasties to take home.

Dropping down into Seaton, and it's rammed.  Let's just say finding a parking spot was challenging and involved upsetting someone who had their eye on the space but was coming from the other direction and couldn't get passed another car obstructing the road.

We take our reserved table in The Smugglers and waited what seemed like an age for them to come and take our food and drinks order, then another age for our Carvery ticket to be handed over.  The queue was mahoosive, not helped by a group out for a birthday lunch, where all their 7 to 10 year olds were encouraged to dish up their own plates!  Can you imagine?

It's hot and sunny, 25 degrees, and we're stuck inside having a gravy dinner.  Herself wasn't impressed, she may not have said anything but her face had subtitles!

No plans to do anything else now today so we head back to site through Looe.

A lazy afternoon on the decking was interrupted only by sporadic efforts at packing away.  We hadn't intended to leave until around 7pm, but by 6pm we're all loaded up and the van has been cleaned so set off anyway.

The 4 hr drive home was incident free.  Trude's wheels didn't stop turning except for a brief stop at Taunton Dean for a pee and to pick up some wholesome goodness from the Golden Arches.  We're pulling up outside ours at 10pm and unloading so Herself can throw my pants in the washing machine before going to bed.

Nice little trip away, and we were pleasantly surprised by the John Fowler site.  Still would have rather been in our Tourer mind, but C'est la vie.

Oh, and we're not going back to Cornwall in peak season again ...... ever!