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.