Askett

Are you well Marge? On seconds thoughts don't answer that we'll presume you are. We've been home six days now, time for another trip. Originally we had planned to head to Scotland, but we are waiting to help Angela's son with his house move which could now take place within a couple of weeks so we need to be closer to home.

First stop the dentist in High Wycombe for Angela to have yet another broken tooth repaired. The weather took a turn for the worse upon our arrival at High Wycombe, resulting in some rain water seeping into Marge. She's not good with heavy downpours.

Our first overnight stop of this trip was Askett where we parked Marge up on John's sister's drive. Lovely here isn't it, Marge? What a beautiful garden. No midges to worry about here as there would have been in Scotland.

Before leaving home, John had fitted a side screen purchased from Ridgeline Van Equipment in readiness for an invasion of midges or mosquitoes. It means we can still enjoy the view when Marge's side door is open without being bitten by these annoying insects.

Tonight, we are staying on the Oxford campsite. Later this week we will move onto Stratford upon Avon where we will camp at the International Campervan Show at the racecourse. As an added bonus the International Overland Show is also on. It's going to be fun Marge.

Poole

Thank you Glastonbury for providing overnight parking for vans. There is a campaign underway in the U.K. for councils, village halls, community centres, sports clubs etc; to allow campervans and motorhomes to park in their empty car parks overnight. It's not rocket science guys. We pay a small fee, up to ten pounds. We wont leave rubbish or empty waste water and you receive money for your funds. You can even trust us to put money in a donation box, a scheme already running in Scotland. If you know of a facility, please put this idea forward to the person who can make decisions on such things. Thank you. 

One final hit of patchouli and white sage before leaving Glastonbury. Right Marge, home please. Slow and steady now. And guess what, our next stop is the garage for you to have a health check.  A pressure sensor fitted, and talk of a new ignition switch and Marge was considered well enough for another trip. O.K. Marge, just a couple of days away next week then.

Glastonbury

Yet another early start this morning. Last night Angela checked on the local council website about parking a campervan or motorhome in the Watchet car park. It clearly stated yes you could, just pay for each space your van takes up. Why on earth wasn't this information on the board by the ticket machine? So, we were ready at eight to move Marge across two spaces ready to pay if the parking enforcement officer appeared. Which they did not. We got a freebie Marge. Cheapskates! With no reason to stay in Watchet we departed early taking the A39 to Glastonbury. The drive was much gentler than the last few days and both us and Marge were glad of it. On the approach road we could see Glastonbury Tor in the mizzle. The Park4night app informed us that there were three spaces in the parking area behind the abbey that could accommodate vans up to 6 metres so we headed there. Overnight charge ten pounds. There was one space available. Pull everything in tight Marge we're going in. 

Keen to explore we walked along a passageway that led straight on to the high street. We were fascinated immediately by this town. No invasion of chain stores here, just independent outlets selling coloured knitwear and linens, crystals, incense, books and art.

We visited three of the bookshops amazed at just how many different books were available on subjects' covering wizardry, witchcraft, crystals, paganism, religion, psychology and much more. The smell of incense permeated along the street. The smell of patchouli, so intense affected our senses. We loved this town. Let's become hippies and move here! All around us were individuals who looked like they'd come to the Glastonbury music festival and never left. And everyone was so friendly. We really do love you Glasto! Quick move away from all the burning incense it's starting to go to your heads. Alright Marge. Chill.

Allowing the light rain showers to pass we changed into our walking boots to walk up Glastonbury Tor, topped by the roofless St. Michael's tower.

The mile long walk up was steep and challenging. Ha-ha, payback time for all those inclines you've made me slog up. Alright Marge.

The last few steps were so steep we wished we hadn't forgotten our walking poles. Angela wished she'd not bought her vertigo with her and was worried about the descent.

However the climb was worth it and we were rewarded with spectacular views towards the Mendip hills due north and the field systems of the Somerset levels below.

A strong wind forced us to sit inside the tower where we ate our emergency brownies. Luckily we spotted another path down that seemed gentler.

As we descended we could see the stove pipes protruding from a community of vans parked below. There were vans parked all around the town, mostly English but Dutch and German as well. The whole vibe in the area was very laid back. 

Tomorrow we are returning home as we have visitors coming to stay for a few days. It's all go Marge. Take us home safely please with no funny business!

Watchet

 

Up early again this morning to meet up with Angela's son, his wife and grandson Elliot who have been on holiday in Ilfracombe for a few days. The sun shone, the sky a vibrant blue backdrop to the slow-moving cumulus clouds. After coffee and a walk with the family we returned to Marge annoyed to see a school minibus had taken one of the only four Motorhome Only spaces in Ilfracombe. Can't you read?

More pastry products eaten we headed off in the direction of the Exmoor National Park. What's going on. This is punishment! The drive was horrendous. Steep long hills then a drop into the valley. Twice Marge objected and went in to safe mode. We couldn't blame her. If Angela had realised the drive to her chosen overnight spot would have meant enduring this drive she wouldn't have bothered. And the signpost had said this was the route to Minehead avoiding the steep hill! All that effort and we decided not to stay at the campsite behind the pub we'd seen online as it was in the middle of nowhere alongside a busy road. So, we drove down a 17% hill and into Watchet where we knew there were two overnight motorhome bays.

Oh, dear Marge. No room at the inn. We parked in a car bay hoping one of the vans would leave. No luck. The police drove in and Angela asked them if we'd get away with overnighting even though Marge was 'not parked wholly in the bay' as instructed on the information board. They thought we should buy a ticket and not worry as it was unlikely the parking enforcement officer would come around until nine in the morning. So, we didn't buy a ticket, hung around Marge and talked to our English neighbours who were over from Spain where they were residents. At  six o' clock the parking went free until nine in the morning. Another early start Marge. Up by eight. We really wanted to take a look around the newly built arts centre at east quay, but apart from the two spaces, where the vans supposed to park. Crazy! Money saved on a campsite and Angela's bargain haircut we decided to track down a Chinese takeaway.

John wanted spicy. Local people don't like spicey the girl in the take away told us. Lightweights. 

Marge is now with the other two vans parked alongside the West Somerset Railway. Twice we have enjoyed seeing the steam engine as it hissed and wooed out of the station.

A lovely sunset ended the day. Tomorrow we will leave the coast and head south across country. Hopefully there will not be too many hills. Could we go to Norfolk next time? Yes Marge, sounds a good idea, nice and flat around the fens.

Ilfracombe

We were up early this morning ready for the parking enforcement officer as we were a little concerned because Marge's rear was overhanging our space and we'd heard that down in Cornwall there had been parking fines given for this. At eight thirty when he arrived, he emptied the cash out of the payment machine and left. Thanks for that matey. A lady collected litter in the car park and down on the viewpoint. She stopped to chat. Twice a week she came around to litter pick. If you fancy some gardening as well, Bideford could do with a hand weeding their flower beds. Down below shadows rolled over the landscape. Some local people who seemed disapproving of the vans (who had paid to stay overnight) in an almost empty car park mumbled a perfunctory good morning. 

Mid morning we bid farewell to Great Torrington and the model village of Taddiport down in the valley. One last glance at the view below and beyond we swung Marge around and drove out of town. Next stop Marge Ilfracombe. No stop. Lidl on the right. Now Ilfracombe where a space in the motorhome parking area in the centre of town awaited Marge. Angela had caught sight of her wild hair in a few shop windows recently and hoped she'd secure a haircut whilst here. Result. Zig Zags lady's salon. How much? Ten pounds! That cost a tenner? Yes Marge. I'd ask for a refund! Rude. Angela's hair looked just as it did when she visited her own hairdresser where ten pounds wouldn't get you through the door. 

After an early start we were tired, but still walked out along the seafront and down to the harbour where we met a young couple who'd just finished laying out their bedding in the back of their land rover discovery. They were from Worcestershire and had come down to Ilfracombe for the night.

Then a look at Damian Hirst's sculpture Verity before stopping to talk to a man who was converting a VW T5 patient transport vehicle. Then a meal in the Wetherspoons where we talked about a trip in June to celebrate our wedding anniversary which we unfortunately share with her majesty's platinum jubilee celebrations, so we expect campsites to be busy.

Not taking me then. Not sure Marge, probably not. Marge, we hardly dare say, has been fine since her wobble when we left Tintagel on Saturday. It's like she belched and her system cleared. Please now stay as you are Marge; we'll be home soon.

Great Torrington (Day 2)

This morning the church bells peeled for half an hour. The sound of them reminded us of many places we've stayed in France. Despite a quiet night, we decided to move Marge to a space at the top of the carpark nearer to the parked cars where she wouldn't be so isolated when we left her to go cycling. Also, because a group of youngsters in cars and on motorbikes arrived near us around ten o' clock last night. Not that they were any problem, just meeting up to chat, leaving around eleven.

 Enjoy the view, Marge. The fields below looked stunning. To the right the two leper strips visible, remnants of seven strip fields from the medieval period. One hundred and fifty years ago in the nearby village of Taddiport there was a leprosy hospital. 

Brompton's at the ready we walked down the path behind the car park, stopping to speak with a lady who informed us it was her eighty first birthday today. We asked if she knew the route down to the Tarka Trail. After some thought she pointed us in the right direction down a steep path towards the river. Soon we had to stop. John's front tyre was flat. Our cycling trip looked in jeopardy of not going ahead. After twice trying to repair the inner tube with patches well past their sell by date success was achieved. We decided to press on to Bideford rather than Barnstaple just in case the repair didn't hold out. 

Following the instructions given we cycled through the derelict site of the old Dairy Crest creamery awaiting development after thirty years of closure, then along a rutted track to the Puffing Billy cafe where there was no sign to tell us which direction we needed to go for Bideford.

Asking some local cyclists, we were soon on our way enjoying cycling off road over a tarmacked surface up and down gradients, through tunnels and over bridges following alongside the river Torridge. Due to our false starts it took us two and a half hours to reach Bideford.

We lunched by the river watching a man paint an ancient and very rusty tug boat. We wondered if he would ever finish this project the task seemed monumental. Nearby we could hear the dulcet tones of a brass band trumpeting, drumming and oompahing popular tunes. We listened a while whilst we ate ice cream. John couldn't bear the sight of the weeds growing in the adjacent Diana Memorial Rose Garden and set to pulling some of them up.

Across the road a beautiful floral display in celebration of the queen's platinum jubilee caught our eye.

Bideford a thriving port in the fifteenth century exporting pottery to Europe and America. The ships returning with tobacco and salt cod is described as one of the prettiest and distinctive towns in north Devon. 

Just before five we returned to Marge having stopped on the return ride to pick wild garlic from the side of the cycleway. We took a different route back into the town walking with our bicycles up a very steep road that seemed to go on for ever. Whilst we have found Devon to be very pretty and scenic, we are starting to hate the hills. Aren't we Marge? Hear you had a bike malfunction today. It's not just me that causes your ills then? No Marge. Tomorrow we're off to Ilfracombe, don't be getting any ideas about playing up please.