Poole

Despite the strong wind last night, Angela slept well. As usual we attracted the inconsiderate idiot. The engine on the van running for some time just before we went to bed. This morning the seagulls seemed excited, swooping and diving.

The sun briefly broke the grey cloud, a spotlight of rays clearly visible over the Isle of Wight picking out the detail. All in all, a pleasant last morning to our tip. Right Marge, take us home.

Eight weeks ago, we left home for Scotland. In that time the season changed. The scenery changed. Marge has consumed nearly eight hundred pounds worth of diesel and travelled three thousand miles. Our overnight costs have totalled less than two hundred pounds. We consider our trip has been good value. Now we are home it is hard to remember all the places we have visited so look forward to trawling through the hundreds of photographs we've taken. Marge has behaved all the time we've been away, but she does need a little bit of TLC, including a new exhaust. As for her leaking water tank, it turned out to be nothing too serious. 

Our Scottish guide books returned to the bookshelf we now have time to reflect. Marge has been our home for nearly two months. She has taken us to some beautiful and interesting places. We've met interesting people, climbed mountains, laughed, cried, rejoiced, been frustrated, frightened, challenged and educated. We are stronger and more confident for all these experiences. Travel certainly opens your heart, broadens your mind, fulfils your life and creates memories. 

What do you think Marge, shall we make some more memories soon?

Milford on Sea

 This morning we were all a little sad. This is it Marge, time to return home. We know, we don't want too either. Let's not then. What are you like Marge. Behave while we go into the Go Outdoors shop opposite to buy John some new walking boots. By eleven thirty we were on our way, Marge bowling happily along the A34, a road she and us have travelled many times. Stopping at the Sutton Scotney service area we discussed trying to fit in another trip before Christmas. Enough of that, you need to sort out your new house. Oh, Marge that can wait. Time to go.

Follow those soldiers driving the tank transporters. Where to? Milford-on-Sea, who wants to go home. Just one more night away, then back to Poole. 
Amazingly there is free overnight van parking right near the seafront at Milford, alongside the road to Keyhaven.

Marge meet Maureen, she's a nice little auto sleeper. Maureen meet Marge. Play nice you two while we take a walk.

Our feet slipped on the loose shifting shingle as we crunched along the path above the beach towards the Lighthouse restaurant where our brother-in-law held his sixtieth birthday a few years ago now. The temperature 18c. We of course were wrapped up in a warm coat with base layer leggings under our trousers.

We'd found summer. Where's the rain? The views across a sea of blue grey to the Isle of Wight was clear. We could easily see the chalk stacks of the needles and the red and white banded lighthouse standing proudly at the end of them.

At the last count there were seven other vans parked alongside Marge tonight. Not expecting to be away another night, a tin of curry was cracked open for dinner. It's going to be windy tonight. We know Marge around 25 mph, at least we're not high above the sea. Angela, Please make sure you're happy to be here buffeted by the strong wind. I don't want to be woken in the night to be moved to somewhere more sheltered. 

Early night tonight, Marge, we'll probably be home by tomorrow lunchtime. Why don't I believe that. I'm sure you'll want to stop off somewhere en-route. You know us too well Marge.

Oxford

Today was to be our last full day away, but before we could enjoy a last walk out there were things to attend to. Angela had a hair appointment, Marge had to be washed and her tyre pressures checked all before we could set off for Oxford. The day bright and warm with no need for a coat, we couldn't believe we'd spent the last few weeks in waterproof clothing. The autumn sunshine cast shadows through the trees clothed in a coat of many colours. It really was a beautiful day.

Where is this place? It's the Oxford campsite Marge. You've been here before. You saved the best to last then. Not really, we've stayed in some fabulous places, this site just suits us at this time. The Oxford camping and caravanning club site is situated close to the A34, our road for returning home to Poole.

It is also just across the road from the river Thames so we took a walk along the tow path, stopping near a gaggle of geese who soon gave up on us when they realised there was no food in the offering.

The moored narrowboats looked tired, damp and green from the overhanging trees. Some had given up all hope, slowly sinking below the water level. But there's something pleasant about walking out in the autumn. Fallen dry leaves beneath your feet. hedgerows naked except for vibrant red berries and the last apples out of reach for scrumping. When we lived in Buckinghamshire, we regularly walked by the river Thames and we were happy to have the opportunity to do so once again.

Back at the campsite Angela spoke to a lady who was returning from eight weeks in Scotland. The next week she would spend in Salisbury and then time in Devon before returning home to Cornwall. None of us wanted our trips to end. What do you think Marge, shall we go home for a few days then set off again?

 Askett
 

Despite being very tired last night, we did not sleep well at Stratford. Last time we stayed here in September we were beginning our adventure. Now nearly over our minds were racing, full of what was awaiting us back at home. Despite our tiredness we were up early to purchase a parking ticket. A couple of vans slipped out, keen to avoid the charge.

The sky pink from the rising sun we breakfasted and tidied Marge keen to walk along the river into Stratford before we left. The parking area was busy from early on, including a visit from the lowland search and rescue team who appeared to be carrying out a training course. It's not like Baywatch when after two chest compressions the casualty jumps up and runs up the beach the instructor stated. If the events of last night had gone pear shaped, they might have been needed to retrieve marge from the alligator teeth. I do all my own stunts. We know Marge, but don't be tempted anytime soon. Then two fire engines arrived, blue lights flashing. Why, we were not sure. Leaving Marge to listen to the talk on CPR we walked along the path that ran past the holy trinity church, the bells peeling, calling a congregation to morning service.

In the town a Sunday market was on replacing the funfair that was in town when we arrived last night. The cabochon lighting bouncing of the half-timbered buildings.

Crossing to the other side of the river Avon we watched a rainbow of kayaks emerge from the lock, whilst others slid easily down the smooth falling water of the weir. 
O.K. Marge next stop Buckinghamshire. Relatives, Christmas, catching up, meal and wine. We'd been away so long we felt a little disconnected from real life. Tonight, Marge is tucked up in a quiet little village. The sounds of the sea, waterfalls, rivers, wind and rain a distant memory.

Stratford-upon-Avon

This morning Marge stood out from the other vans, not because of her good looks but more for her well-travelled appearance. The others all looked clean and shiny as did their owners. Marge and us, in need of a little pampering. A long day ahead we tried to leave early, stopping first at the nearby Sainsburys store to purchase sparkling red wine for Christmas. Then onto the M6 which was busy, but not as busy as the northbound side. Caravan, motorhome, campervan, caravan and more caravans. It wouldn't be the school half term holidays, would it? Our destination Higher Tranmere to visit John's daughter, but first we had to negotiate the Mersey Tunnel. Angela doesn't like driving in it. Slow and steady is the best way. Is that water dripping down above us. Stop trying to be funny Marge, it's stressful enough without your jokes. A pleasant couple of hours spent catching up and then we were off again. We'd already driven for two and a half hours and were tired, but our decision to stay in Scotland for as long as possible meant we had a few long days of travelling ahead of us. Marge is a heavy drinker if driven too fast so we try not to push her over 55 mph to conserve fuel. More M6 driving, the light fast fading fast we pressed on. Just over three hours later we arrived at Stratford-upon-Avon, it was 6.45pm and dark. Angela has never driven Marge in the dark before so the last half an hour of the journey was a little fraught.

But not as fraught as finding the barrier already down on the parking area where vans could overnight. It was not supposed to close until 9pm. Tired, frustrated, stressed and that was just Marge, we were in despair. Too tired to drive any further John was forced to think on his feet.

The exit to the parking area had alligator teeth fitted, which means a vehicle can only move in one direction and that was out. Let's do this Marge. Angela lined Marge up best she could and John depressed the alligator teeth with his foot. This could end badly. Hold your nerve everyone. We were in. Thank god. What is it with you two, always drama. We don't go looking for it Marge, it just finds us.

After the meal John's daughter Dawn laid on for us there was not much room left for food, so Angela had a snack, and John cooked an omelette using mushrooms collected from around the parking area at Caerlaverock.

Tomorrow a shorter drive, and another stop to visit relatives. But before we leave a much-needed walk to set us up for the journey. Keep calm and travel on Marge. Keep calm with you two in control!

Kendal

The site at Caeverlock Castle near Glencapel was the perfect stop for our last night in Scotland. Peaceful and relaxing. Early this morning most of the other vans started to slip away, including the one opposite whose owner couldn't take his eyes of Marge. John thought the man may have been a little starstruck at seeing Marge. Perhaps he'd read about her on the internet. Wanting to make the most of our last few hours in Scotland we took a walk out to the nearby castle. The sky an autumn blue, the waning moon still visible, we walked through the woods, the sun lighting the ground, picking out the fungi. Oh no, John wouldn't be able to resist checking them out. He's become a bit of an expert on mushrooms over the last few weeks.

The castle like most historical sites in Scotland was closed for inspection and renovation. But the grounds were still open.

A tent set up near the gift shop, which of course was also open, was home to a couple dressed as medieval peasants. The man showed us the dress of a medieval soldier and demonstrated some of the hand weapons sparing none of the gory details they could inflict. It was very interesting and we spent a long time asking him questions.

After we walked around the outside of the castle, surprised at just how intact it was considering its age, 13th century. You could clearly see the footprint of the moated triangular castle. However, over time the added building work has caused it to begin sinking. 

We'd spent longer than we intended at the castle and by the time we returned to Marge there was just her and a van from Belgium. What kept you. Oh, a man wanted to demonstrate his weapons. A quick lunch and then we must leave this little piece of heaven. We both wanted to stay, but knew we couldn't. The lake district was calling. We seemed to talk of nothing except when could we return. Perhaps we could stay another night. No, too much driving tomorrow. We were stopping to see John's daughter on Merseyside and then we needed to travel on to Stratford-upon-Avon.

So just before two, the last van to leave, we began our journey south. Say Aufwiedersehen Marge. Why? We're in Scotland not Germany. Before we knew it, we were on the M6 boxed in by lorries all in a hurry. Marge didn't much care for it either. Like us she'd become used to a slower, quieter pace of life. 

The weather's been beautiful today, all those wet days in Scotland seeming a while ago now.

The gentle rolling landscape of the lake district was stunning. The sunlight picking out the detail. By five o'clock we were parked at Kendal cricket club.

Cost £10. Last year £5. That's staycations caused that. We know Marge, it doesn't make it right though. It will be interesting if prices decrease next year when more people holiday abroad. We doubt it. Anyway, a night off from cooking for Angela. Chinese.

And very nice it was as well. 

We are a little sad now about returning home, but there's always another trip to be had. To travel is to live, and we've a whole lot of living still to do. Haven't we Marge?