Poole

This morning the forest bathed in sunshine. A drove of donkeys quietly appeared. The young ones adorable. They were quite happy to be stroked and photographed whilst their parents watched over them. Ah...so sweet. Yesterday evening we decided to go back to Burgess Hill to view the VW Club Joker, so we telephoned the garage to make an appointment to view it this afternoon at two. Just over an hour into our trip the garage telephoned to say it had been sold. The decision had been made for us. Marge, you're safe. 

Sadly, we must now stop jollying around and return home. Wednesday our balcony begins, hopefully. Some of our rental houses need work, hedge trimming and fence painting and our own house has jobs to be done as well before our August visitors. But before all that, and before the school holiday begin and it's difficult to get around locally, we decided to drive over to Swanage for fishcakes and chips and a walk before we're invaded by holidaymakers.

How long before we can't resist to sneak off for a night or two? Who knows. Watch this space.

Brockenhurst (Day 2)

We've decided to stay another night as it's so peaceful here. Angela tired from driving suggested a walk down to Brockenhurst village which according to the lady in the site office was two miles each way. Really. More like a round trip of six miles! On reflection we wondered why we hadn't returned our Brompton bicycles back under the table in Marge. Two legs and two wheels suits us better than just two legs. 

Our reward for completing the walk locally produced venison burgers and sausages cooked on our outside grill. Delicious! This is the life, Marge. Today should have been the day we officially returned from our cycle tour in France. We are still upset about having our trip cut short, but we mustn't dwell. Instead, we enjoy the evening. The cows that roam the site are very vocal and the horses frisky, running through the site to free themselves from the flies. How lucky are we to be here in natures palyground? 

Brockenhurst (Day 1)

The small parking area beside the river was full last night. Two vans which arrived after ten ended up parking alongside the road. Sadly, we think the popularity of this spot so close to Chichester will result in a 'no overnight parking' sign going up.

The festival of speed at Goodwood has been cancelled today due the high winds. Above Marge the tree shook off the last drops of rain and the rays of a determined sun found its way through fast moving clouds. We decided to head to Hayling Island. John has never been there before, and Angela last visited with her sons twenty-eight years ago. As we drove over the bridge the wind whipped up the high tide into a frenzy tossing the moored boats in every direction. The clouds raced across the sky casting dark shadows over the ground. The weather did nothing to enhance the area. As for campervans and motorhomes, forget it. You're not welcome as most of the seafront car parks allow them not to park. if you feel you must spend time here, parking by the kite surfers beach is allowed. Fifteen pounds! Whether you stay five minutes or all day. What's wrong with these councils? Perhaps they should consult with the local trades people as to whether they'd like some of our money spent in their shops, pubs, cafes and restaurants. 

We are now heading back towards home so have decided it would be nice to stop at a campsite in the new forest. The hollands wood site was over £30.00 a night, so we drove a couple of miles away from Brockenhurst village to the round hill site which was £15.50. That'll do nicely. We have spent all day discussing the VW van we viewed on Saturday and even though we'd discounted it, we couldn't forget it. Oh, dear Marge. You're not safe yet.

East Lavant

What a cracking little spot last night turned out to be. Upon our arrival Angela wasn't so sure, but as with some of the French campsites we have stayed on she has learnt first impressions don't always count. This morning we realised there were in fact two men living in the Honda Jazz parked in front of us. We could only imagine what their living conditions must be like and sympathise.

Today we travelled to Burgess Hill to Camper Sales to look at a V W Westfalia Club Joker. Although a lot smaller than Marge it impressed with its storage and layout. But impressed as we were something just didn't seem right, The van had done barely any miles over a couple of years, one year just seven between MOT's. We also realised from the registration plate it was local and would explain the amount of corrosion John spotted when looking for the water outlet on the underside from the salt air, and the aftermarket wheels with low profile tyre. Shame. Marge you're safe for now. Though we may return as they had a fantastic array of Westfalia vans. 

The weather although warm is wet so we decided to head back towards Chichester. The Festival of Speed is on at nearby Goodwood so the rocks are busy. Angela found us a little overnight spot just north of Chichester by the river Levant. When we arrived, other vans had obviously decided it to be a good stopover as well. Room for a little one? Fortunately there was a space on the end to squeeze Marge in. There are seven of us in total, the van behind is Danish.  If it wasn't raining, we'd appreciate how pretty the area is. The birds undeterred by the weather entertain us with their evening chorus. They sound cheerful. Perhaps we should be as well. Tonight, the two men at Selsey Bill will once again squeeze into their small car for another night. Unlike us, they don't have the luxury that Marge offers.

Selsey Bill, West Sussex.

Before leaving this morning, we walked down to the cove. Lulworth cove has always been one of our favourite places and we've lost count how many times we've visited over the years.

Sadly, it has quite quickly become a victim of commercialism. Boat trips, ice cream parlours, cafes, hotels, a visitor centre with cafe and beautiful cottages, the locals now priced out, our all-holiday lets. Thankfully, we can see past all this and remember the area in the 'old days', about five years ago when there was one cafe, one ice cream parlour a gift shop, hotel and public toilets. Strip all this 'it's what the visitors want' away and you still have rolling countryside, a beautiful coastline, fantastic geology and beautiful walks. Oh, and be warned. campervans and motorhomes parking is, a mere twenty pounds, how ever long you stay. Fortunately we know where the free parking is. 

By lunchtime we were back in Poole at Aldi restocking Marge. Then home to put on a wash and take a shower. The weather was perfect for a washday, warm and windy and within three hours we were back in Marge and on our way to Sussex. Tonight, Marge is located above a beach of shingle.

The sea is wild, a strong wind blowing it onshore churning the stones. Our neighbours appear to be houseless. One in a large van, the other living in the small confines of a Honda Jazz. We realise how lucky we are. Tomorrow we're off to Burgess Hill to look at a smaller van. Don't tell Marge.

West Lulworth, Dorset

Seaton is always a peaceful overnight stop. Up early we watched the town wake. Walkers, joggers, dog walkers and swimmers passed by all not bothered by the vans and very friendly. One lady swimmer crossed from the flats behind propping her small wooden ladder against the seawall so she could hop over.

It amused us. But an early morning dip was not for us. We had no cossies. And we didn't think the genteel folk of Seaton were ready for skinny dippers with breakfast! Away just after nine thirty arriving in Lyme Regis before the crowds, Marge was the first van in the motorhome parking section. Car parking charges have shot up this summer in west Dorset and after parting with £6.30 for three hours parking, we could see why many of the car parks were half empty.

Lyme Regis means pasties, and before twelve we'd eaten two. A walk along the beach, devoid of fossils, but still the fossil hunters came and then into the town stopping at a shop that sells quirky items and Ercol furniture, where John spent time talking to the owner before heading over to Bridport where we parked Marge next to a Volkswagen Exclusive, German registered.

It was very impressive, and at one time we thought of buying one. Not wanting to be too far away from home we drove up, over and along the coast road to Weymouth passing a cycle tourer along the way. We sympathised with her struggle on such challenging roads but were not envious. This coming weekend should have been our last in France. We are still very sad not to have completed our trip. Portland was our overnight destination.

Twice we have stayed next to the sculpture park at Tout Quarry. After settling in a van arrived and within minutes started up a generator. That's a no to us. So, we moved down into the centre of Weymouth, but cars with noisy exhausts, or fart pipes as John calls them and the location made Angela feel uneasy so we drove on to West Lulworth where we knew we'd be able to park by the church, which is where we are now with another van. Tomorrow home to Poole just down the road, and then perhaps another couple of nights away. An update on our balcony is steels up by end of Wednesday and French door fitted from kitchen Thursday. At last!

Seaton, Devon

'Oh, you're interested in me again now?' Yes Marge. But we have to admit we had other plans. If the weather hadn't become unsettled, we were going off cycle camping locally for a couple of nights. Our planned balcony is becoming a nightmare. Delay after delay. Angela has had enough and after having to return early from France because some individuals (ruder words could be used) decided to enter our garden in the hope we now think to break into our shed, was not best pleased when we were told the steels for said balcony would not be going up on Monday 10^th as arranged. Great!! Our window fitter all lined up, has other work and we need the steels installed by next Wednesday. What are the chances? 

Having been home just over a week we have now increased the height of the fence in our rear garden, put strips of plastic spikes on top and painted it black and installed a cctv camera. All for peace of mind so we can leave home when we want to. Other people were targeted the same night as us. A house across the road and cars on the road behind. Hopefully we've done enough to make this low life move on to somewhere else. Not that we'd wish anyone else to have the worries we've had to endure, let alone the cost. We're talking hundreds!

So here we are in Seaton, just an hour and a half from home. We've stayed here twice before on the seafront. Our neighbours are German. The town is quiet. Too quiet for mid July. In ten days', time the school holidays begin, and we know living in Poole we are about to be invaded. Hopefully we will be able to escape the visitors by cycling or travelling in Marge. Or if we're really lucky. Sitting on our brand-new balcony and enjoying the view across the boating lake. Fingers crossed. Tomorrow We're off to Lyme Regis. We know it will be busy there. It always is.

Poole, Dorset

It was midnight last night before we retired to bed. Glad to have the comfort of our little cabin. However once again we had noisy French neighbours who despite John shouting out to them, we had an early start sat, at a nearby table drinking and talking loudly well into the early hours. At six Angela's alarm went off. We were both tired and even though neither of us said, concerned about what may have happened back at home during the night. Zombie like we switched to automatic pilot. Much to John's annoyance Angela likes to arrive in good time, which means we left at seven-fifteen for the station and were first on the platform for the Paris train.

By the time it arrived at just before eight-twenty-five we were lost in a sea of travellers. Where was the bicycle carriage? An unhelpful official said, look for the sign. That'll be the sign about three inches wide and two inches high of a miniature bicycle. John struggled to lift the bikes up the two steps into the carriage the automatic door self-closing at every opportunity, Angela stood by to bring on our bags. Allez allez. We were holding the train, the guard stood by with no intention of helping and blew his whistle. Three bags were still on the platform. Like scolded cats we threw them and ourselves on just as the train pulled away. Please. Give us some slack. 

Was this how the day would continue? Yes, it was. As we cycled out of Bercy station in Paris with an hour to cycle across the city to Saint Lazare Station, which should take around forty minutes John's gears seized up. Someone hated us. All this bad luck! Soon rectified we set off only to find we couldn't cycle along the path that ran beside the river Seine. Sorry closed. So, we launched ourselves into the throngs of pedestrians and vehicles. Weaving between people, cars, vans and jumping red lights. The clock was ticking. Angela not one to miss the sights looked out for the Eiffel tower, excited when she spotted the top section. We cycled past Notre Dame, the Louvre and the seventy-five-foot-high ancient Egyptian Luxor monument in the Place de Concorde. Road closures squeezed traffic into narrow back streets and we were forced to demount and walk daring not to check our watches knowing the train to Cherbourg was due to depart shortly. Eventually the station came into view. We couldn't find our train on the departures board. Fortunately we saw a sign for Normandy trains and broke into a fast walk. Platform 25. Upstairs. You're having a laugh! Luckily, we were right by the lift. With just two minutes to spare we bundled our bikes, luggage and ourselves onto the train. The bicycle area already full. Room for two more? A young couple with a ten-week-old baby welcomed us. They had a trailer, which we know are not allowed on trains. That hadn't stopped them They couldn't leave the baby behind, could they? We'd made it, god knows how. Just the car ferry to go and we'd be home. We were both upset that some people thought it O.K. to violate our space. The neighbours had bought a new lock for our back gate and no message had arrived to say there had been any developments during the night, but we were still unnerved. The train travelled at speed; the half-timbered houses common to the Normandy landscape a blur lost amongst fruit trees and fields of cows.

Cherbourg. At last. The car ferry was due to depart at six-fifteen. It left at five past seven. Of course, it did! The sailing was full and there had been a problem with the loading of the vehicles.

We were left on the dockside with the motorcyclists, cold from the strong wind that blew offshore whilst they moved cars around. Tired, worried but relieved to be nearly home we ate expensive not very good Brittany ferry fare whilst talking to two motorcyclists from Poole. The time passed quickly. Now just to exit the port. We edged our way forward cutting in front of the cars. We just needed to get home. A sigh of relieve. The intruders had not broken our back door lock, they'd obviously given up on it. The sliding lock on the gate they'd cut with bolt cutters to release the padlock. We felt nervous though. Particularly Angela. One o'clock, (two 0' clock to us, we were still on French time) we went to bed. Angela left nearly all the house lighst on, read until nearly four and was jumpy at every little noise. Thanks people. You've ruined our trip and now knocked our confidence. Someone was trying to tell us something when so many things went wrong for us whilst we were away. Perhaps we should have come home? But then we may have been in the house when someone tried to break in. Who knows? Tomorrow we will take measures to secure our garden and property a little better. It had taken us seventeen hours to arrive home. We were exhausted. So much had happened to us in the last four weeks. The tag line for this series of blogs should be. 'Virus and Ventolin'. 'Pizza and Paracetamol' or 'Baguettes and Bonjours'. On a humorous note, when we met the Australian couple a few days ago, we told them one of the reasons for our blog was so we could look back if our memories began to fade as we bacame older They joked you'll be able to say, 'who are these people?' when looking at photographs of ourselves. Let's hope it doesn't come to that!

Camping Touristique De Gien, Gien

Now the weather is a little cooler, we don't need to set off so early which suited Angela this morning. Four French people behind us decided to ignore the 'tres calm', (silence please), signs after 11 pm signs and talked, guffawed and shooshed each other loudly until midnight. Then at 5 am the shags awoke on the island out in the river. Great. She was awake now, her body clock used to a 6 am start wouldn't allow her to return to her slumber.

Our morning coffee stop was at the nearby bicycle and motorcycle museum where we were joined by our German neighbour. We exchanged information on various cycle routes before departing. The morning ride was pleasant, we had a tail wind and flew along. Was this how it felt riding an e-bike?

At mid-day we happened upon a pretty little spot. Then a shock message from home. Someone had tried to break into our house via the back door! We couldn't believe it. Now we had no choice we would sadly have to return home.

Five miles from Gien fuelled by adrenalin we made our way straight to the towns railway station which thankfully on this Sunday had a man at the ticket office. Parley vous Anglais? We had no time for our bumbling French. 'Non'. After much franglaise, hand gestures, writing and Angela's understanding of French the man printed out our options. He even enquired about a taxi to Cherbourg which would take over five hours and  arrive too late for tonight's sailing to Poole. We decided to board a train to Cherbourg anyway. It would mean a change in Paris involving a five mile ride across the city around 8 pm. After a while the very helpful ticket man said he wasn't happy for us to be in Paris at that time because of the troubles. So we booked the evening ferry to Poole for tomorrow and a train just before 8.30 am from Gien, changing at Paris.

We could do no more so booked onto the town campsite, paying extra for a lodge so we would not have the pressure of packing our tent in the morning.

Ate a fantastic meal in the restaurant, realizing we'd not celebrated our wedding anniversary yet as we were too I'll at the time, then walked around the site talking to other cyclists, some Polish on a charity drive to Portugal. They left Poland yesterday, rotating three drivers, arriving in Portugal this Tuesday. Amazing. This evening we enjoy the stunning view across the river to the town. We are sad to have to abandon our trip just as we were about to cycle pastures new, the Briare canal to Paris. Hopefully that will now happen in September. Meanwhile we must try and stay calm. We told our neighbour the code for our key safe, and she has gone into our house and switched on some lights. We have since learnt some cars were broken into last night in the road behind our house. Whatever happens from now on is out of our control, hopefully all will be, O.K.

Camping Le Jardine, Sully Sur Loire

At five this morning it rained. Normal rain. Not like the horrendous storms of last week when we on the Atlantic coast. Tired from cycling 110 miles over two days we went back to sleep, waking just before seven. Great a lie in. But the clouds above were grey, so we took the tent down quickly then packed up and moved into the cyclists room to make coffee and eat breakfast. These rooms are great with kettles, microwaves, fridges and in this case a television. We just wish all campsites provided this facility for us. They are a godsend particularly if it rains. Despite some light drizzle we set off just before ten. Normally by now we'd be a couple of hours into our cycling day. But we were in no rush, our next stop would be Sully sur Loire, with it's stunning chateau around twenty miles away. We have stayed in the town twice before in Marge on the aire de camping car just along from the chateau. We stopped to watch two men assemble a folding canoe. Alongside it two folding kayaks already to go. The route alongside the river mostly flat made for easy cycling. Then a spoke broke in Angela's front wheel. Really! Here we go again. You couldn't make it up. Angela's bike has twenty-four inch wheels which is quite unusual so we have three spare spokes with us. As luck would have it there was a bike shop in Sully. Open at two. Whilst the man at the shop retentioned the wheel another spoke snapped. We now have only one spare. Oh dear. In a day or two we will leave the river Loire at Briare and follow the canal up to Paris. We are aware of the troubles there and will be monitoring the news daily as we near the city.