Longwick

We survived the night! The wind picked up buffeting Marge, finding away inside her, through the open roof vent, its coolness brushing our faces. Angela prayed for the forecasted rain to start, as it would mask the sounds of the night in an unfamiliar area. Asleep long before the first drop, but awoken by its persistent drumming as it took hold. She has read a few times that nerves are excitement in disguise, she just wasn't feeling it that way. Despite her anxieties her night's sleep was short but not too disturbed.

Up early ready for the mechanics to start work on Marge first thing we pondered on how the day would pan out. After all our quotes of positivity we were not feeling it. We felt tested. Marge felt tested. Life is testing. Leaving Marge to be operated on, we walked to Greggs to find comfort in bacon baps and orange juice. Then not wanting to be away from Marge too long we headed back to the garage where we sat in the reception area for three and a half nail biting hours after which John was presented with an invoice that made him a little angry.  Emotions and tempers were a little frayed, it had been around over 48 hours since this saga had begun, and the RAC were not coming out of it in a good light. Their diagnosis, meant a repair to Marge would take an hour or two. Turned out they'd misdiagnosed her, and repairs took 5 hours, and required a whole lot more parts. An email to customer services at the RAC is pending, we'd been badly advised and they'd really let us and Marge down this time. The good news, Marge test driven by the mechanic and Angela ran sweetly. She'd come through. 

After a tentative journey home, she is now nestled between the greenhouse and flower border. We are all glad to be home.

Are you O.K. Marge. 'Yes, I've been for a drive'.

Winton. nr: Bournemouth.

Oh, what a beautiful morning, well as far as the weather was concerned. By eight thirty the RAC patrolman had arrived. After some discussion and diagnosis of Marge her auxiliary belt was removed, which seemed to ease her problem, at the same time meaning she could now not be driven anywhere. It was decided she would be recovered to a garage near Bournemouth and that we'd probably be on our way home this afternoon. 

So, we sat outside the campsite reception and shop, by now the only people on the site and waited for the recovery vehicle. In fact, we waited for four hours.

At one o'clock a very large recovery truck appeared, the driver heavy handily loaded Marge on the back, tied her down and whisked her away. We felt bereft as she disappeared down the lane rocking and rolling. Don't worry Marge we will catch up with you soon, reassured by the driver that a taxi was en-route to collect us. Once again, we waited, and waited until two hours after Marge left the taxi arrived.

Finally, reunited with Marge the news was not good. The parts for her would not all arrive until Tuesday. What! Where would we stay?

Hotel stays at the moment are only for business. O.K. How would we get home if we left her.? We'd used our onward journey up to travel to the garage. And we couldn't return until Thursday as John has his second covid vaccination booked for Tuesday. Any suggestions anybody? A call to the RAC by the garage got things moving. Put Marge on another recovery vehicle and send her home! But what about us, we couldn't travel in the cab with the driver because of covid.

The garage staff seeing a few hundred pounds slipping away, suddenly announced parts would arrive at eight o' clock in the morning and we could sleep in Marge on the garage forecourt overnight. Mentally exhausted by the last eighteen hours, we unhappily had to go with it. 

Early evening we ventured out up the main street, comforted by the fact that the police station was fairly near by. Please Marge, don't attract attention like you normally do. In search of comfort food 'Lots of Rice' took our fancy and turned out to be a great choice.

Chinese food that smelt and tasted like Chinese food used to. 

We are a little sceptical about our overnight stop, it's the sort of place we would normally avoid. Angela just wants to return home now, but in her ear she can hear Marge say, 'toughen up girl'. 

Earlier John said, if he wrote his memoirs he'd call the them 'Out for a Drive'. What do you think Marge?

Hopefully we'll survive the night, and bring you news of a full recovery for Marge tomorrow.

Ridge, nr: Wareham (Day 2).

When we set off on our travels twelve days ago Angela began reading Raynor Winn's book The Salt Path. She finished it yesterday evening. We have visited some of the places mentioned in the book, and found Raynor's book a good complement to our travels. The book is inspirational and reminds you that there are no guarantees in life, and that life's short. So, if you dream of doing something big in your life, then plan it and do it! 

What we didn't plan was for Marge to start the day with a knocking sound coming from her engine. Oh no not more problems Marge. What's wrong with you now! Luckily, we were just down the road from Kombi Kampers in Wareham, so took her there for them to give her the once over. 

We left her for a couple of hours whilst we walked in to the town and sat a while at the quayside watching a man working on his Cornish crabber which was tied up near to us. The boat took the attention of a lady sat further along. 'that's a nice boat'. Always a good opening line. 'I like wood'. Me too replied the man. Too much encouragement, the woman continued. It looks roomy, I'm only small, just over 5ft, I could fit in there'. We waited, but the man chose to ignore her continuing with rigging the boat. We could see how easy it was for salty sea-dogs to have a woman in every port, obviously 'that's a nice boat' doesn't cut it enough as the chat up line in Wareham.

On the way back to Marge we took a look inside the Anglo-Saxon Lady St. Mary church which houses a 12th century lead hexagonal font, the only one in existence. Also, five stone cut inscriptions that dated from the seventh century. The church was interesting, the second one we'd visited in the last three days. Perhaps we should have prayed for Marge whilst in them.

Back to Marge. The mechanics didn't know what was wrong with her, saying they'd have to strip her down. Enough of that talk. So, we tentatively drove her back to the camp site which was only two miles away to wait for assistance from the RAC. You must like a man in uniform Marge, that's twice in just over two weeks. We know this problem is not related to the last, we just hope Marge isn't at the age where, she will suddenly become problematic. We knew in our hearts that Marge would probably have to be recovered once again. But hey ho, nobody's died. Marge would be well again after no doubt a huge amount of money had been spent on her. 

Whilst we waited a heron majestically flew above the canopies of the trees opposite, silent and graceful. The view across the fields from Marge, beautiful, peaceful, serene. We could think of worse places to be awaiting assistance, like the M3 motorway.

Just before seven, the RAC telephoned, after some discussion it was decided that as we were in a safe place and that they were busy we would be attended by one of their patrolmen between nine and eleven in the morning.

So, we broke out of Marge and once again took a walk down to the nearby boatyard, this evening transformed by the sun igniting a rainbow of fibre glass. The boats rested silently in a quiet breeze on a backwater hidden by the extensive grasslands. As we walked under the trees, the earth a jigsaw of parched earth, the air chilled.

In a wooden electricity pole, some starlings had built a nest in a hole made previously by a woodpecker. we waited and the tiny head of a new life popped out, retreating as soon as it sensed our presence. Soft white clouds broke the blue sky and a pair of swallows played tag overhead. We enjoyed the moment, the calm before the storm.

For now, we watched the sky turn marshmallow pink as the evening sun slipped across the nearby fields.  

 Ridge, nr: Wareham.

We were awake early this morning woken by the glare of a promising sun. A big day today, our grandson Elliot would get to use his 'new bucket and spade'. Little did we know what weather lay ahead. At around ten thirty on the way into Poole the hopes of a fine day faded. The forecast was for a day of sunshine and cloud and no rain until 4 pm. Someone got that wrong. The sky darkened and the rain fell, but we clung on to hope every time we saw a flash of blue sky. 

By the time we met up with the family we were resorting to prayer. Luckily a break in the weather meant we could walk along the beach up to Poole quay where we were able to sit and have coffee. The quay was alive with other hopeful people, some even embarking on the boat trip to Brownsea island. But all the time the rain threatened, with angry clouds gathering at all angles.

Sandwiches bought, we all crammed into Marge (with windows slightly opened) to eat and hope. 

Next stop was the beach at Rockley Park, ready for Elliots big moment. As we approached it began to, yes snow!  After sitting in our respective vehicles, a window of opportunity arose and the bucket and spade made its debut.

Children are so resilient, our grandson happily played on the wet sand revelling in the moment. Then in true British style, when the next wave of rain, or should we say hail fell, we all piled in to Marge for an ice cream.

The weather continued to test us until in the end another heavy hail shower ended the day for us all. It had not turned out to be the day we'd planned, but little Elliot seemed to enjoy himself.

Earlier than expected John and I headed to the campsite at Ridge. At 5.30 pm the sun cracked the clouds and a strip of blue split the grey clouds giving an improving picture to a bleak campsite with just four of us staying. If it was solitude you were looking for, this was the place. Fortunately, we've stayed here before many times and know how nice it can be.

BBQ grill on and sausages on the griddle we couldn't believe the change in the weather. Sometimes life's not fair. 

We took an evening walk down to the nearby boatyard, eerily quiet as we walked through a graveyard of vessels. The sunlight softening in an evening glow lit the reeds standing tall on the flood plain and along the riverbank. Despite the hint of a chill, we allowed our bodies to accept the little warmth the sun offered.

Now back in Marge, we watch a washed-out sunset through the trees. Tomorrow, we will return home, but are already planning Marge's next trip in a week or two...weather permitting! 

 Norden, nr: Corfe.

Last night, what a night, the van was a rockin', the rain ran off Marge like teardrops and the church bells tolled every fifteen minutes in the darkness.  All a little bit scary, but we'd experienced worse when we spent a night in a small tent on a cliff top in Spain, whilst cycle camping six years ago. 

The terrors of the night gave way to a calm morning which dawned bright. We waited and waited for Trudy and Andrew to bring the bacon baps, but they didn't arrive. So, it was back to omelette and cereal. But we were happy, we were in a beautiful spot and all was good. There's a saying, 'if you don't get out of bed smiling, then try another life'.

After breakfast we walked down to Lulworth Cove. A few lines on the side of a building caught our attention. 

After many years of visiting this natural world heritage site we were a little taken aback that it had been transformed in to yet another site of cafe culture. The once shack of a cafe had gone, and the steps where a local hippy used to sit and paint pebbles and shells from the beach, replaced by a slick new structure selling paninis and coffee. Walking boots had been exchanged for flip flops. Totally inappropriate footwear for climbing the cliff paths. Ignoring the change, we walked along the beach fossil hunting, handing the few we found to a family whose search had been to no avail.

Then a walk up to stair hole, before succumbing to 21st century tourism and buying ice creams at how much!!

Back at Marge, we stepped inside the Holy Trinity Church. Built in Norman times the church was peaceful and enjoyed views across the countryside to the sea.

Lunch eaten we left the picturesque village of West Lulworth heading for Swanage. We had not travelled far, when John's daughter Dawn telephoned to say that our granddaughter Cath had landed an internship scriptwriting for a major festival (Writing On The Wall) in Liverpool. Fantastic news, we were very pleased, but not half as pleased and proud as her mother was. 

Swanage was quiet, too quiet for a day in May. We took a walk to the Old Forge Antiques Shop as we always do when in the area to see what mid-century furniture they had in, passing on the way the engine sheds of the Swanage steam railway, where we stopped for a while to watch a man cleaning out a boiler on one of the steam trains.

Late this afternoon we were once again back at The Halfway Inn near Corfe, as tomorrow we are meeting Angela's son, his wife and our youngest grandson in Poole, with fingers crossed for good weather so our grandson Elliot can put his new bucket and spade to good use. Early this evening we sat out for a while in the pub garden with a few other brave souls, including a young couple in their twenties. The young lady had ripped jeans on, so badly ripped on one leg they were basically very short shorts. She had even longer legs, than our Marge. Breed them tough down here in Dorset we thought, as we sat in multiple layers and scarfs. 

 West Lulworth

A nice surprise this morning. When we opened Marge's blinds our friends Trudy and Andrew were parked in front of us. They'd come over to Falmouth to walk their dogs and treat us to breakfast. A very nice breakfast it was as well, hot drinks and bacon and egg/mushroom baps from the cafe at Gyllyngvase beach. We hurriedly re-arranged Marge, making room for us all to sit inside (window and door open for ventilation), and chatted contently. what a great start to our last morning. Thank you, Trudy and Andrew. Our treat next time. 

Just before noon, it was time to point Marge eastwards and set off on our return journey. We'd enjoyed our time in Cornwall made all the more enjoyable for seeing our friends. A quick stop at Tesco in Truro for a few groceries and five 5 litre containers of water to top up Marge's tank.

We were heading towards Bridport which we'd planned as our overnight stop. Arriving there around 4.30 pm we both didn't feel happy about staying so we moved on to Weymouth. The journey to Bridport had been a little challenging. Marge had been fine, excelling herself, but the wind was strong, gusting across the dual carriageways challenging Angela who had to keep Marge, who is three metres tall from not getting caught unawares by the wind. Weymouth was a no go as well. last night it was reported that fifteen vans stayed overnight at the pier car park, this evening just a few, and the occupants of the two we spoke to were not staying, so we took a look at the park4night app and found a stop at West Lulworth by the church, which is where we park the car when we visit Lulworth Cove. So that's where we are now after travelling through three counties. The wind is very strong, reportedly gusting at 60 mph. Marge is shaking, we are shaking! Thank God we are not on the campsite up on the cliff top at nearby Durdle Door. Who would believe that yesterday was shorts weather and today winter coats? It is undoubtably going to be a noisy night, with the wind set to continue through tomorrow despite the return of the sunshine. Roll on Wednesday when the weather will settle.