Tintagel

Looking at yesterday's blog this morning we noticed the photograph of Marge made her look like she was in a compound in a country you wouldn't want to visit, not in the centre of a picturesque resort in north Devon. O.K. Marge let's find you somewhere nicer for tonight's photo shoot. Ready to explore more of the area we set off bidding farewell to our overnight neighbours one of which was a lady travelling with her dog as her companion. In the last two days we have seen four women on their own in vans, and why not? On one of the vans a sticker read ' the adventure starts here'. We couldn't agree more. 

Today's drive took us along the Atlantic Highway. Our destination Tintagel. The weather was an improving picture with clouds like pleats punctuating a blue sky. The views expansive both coastal and country.

Arriving in Tintagel at lunchtime there was only one option for lunch, even for the dieters amongst us. It had to be pasties. One vegetable and one steak.

We knew they'd be good from their weight and because we'd eaten pasties from Pengenna Pasties before, when we visited Tintagel whilst on our honeymoon twenty-two years ago.

We decided to walk down to the beach to eat them. The path down is quite steep and for those not wanting to walk it English Heritage provide a fleet of land rovers (for a small charge) to ferry people up and down. It amused us to see you could either take a ride to just above the beach, or just half way down to the ice cream van, a journey that our friend Trudy would say was her kind of trip!

We could see coasteerers jumping from the cliffs into the sea, quite a spectacle. 

Pasties eaten we set off along the cliff path above the beach where not far along Angela slipped and fell catching her arm. Feeling shaken nauseous and light headed we sat for a while, Angela head between knees expecting the return of her pasty. John noticed it could have been worse, we were precariously close to the edge. No need for a helicopter this time thankfully.

Angela feeling a little recovered, we carefully retraced our steps and headed down the steps to the beach having to negotiate some slippery rocks at the bottom. We don't learn do we! We walked into the nearby cave, the roar of the breaking waves bouncing off the rocks, then we sat for a while in the shade as Angela felt a little unwell, and watched the water of the incoming tide flash over the stones.

Then the ascent back, scrambling once again over the rocks and up the steps. Angela's wound despite being covered in antiseptic cream was still bleeding so we sought assistance at the English Heritage ticket office where a first aider was summoned. 

Today has been a little eventful, but despite this we have enjoyed our time travelling along the north coast of Somerset, Devon and Cornwall with its striking rock formations and dramatic scenery. 

Tonight, Marge is nestled on the edge of a small field just of Tintagel high street along with many other vans, and the cost £8.00 for twenty-four hours parking, the same as last night, for which there is no comparison.

Here she has country views and even a glimpse of the sea.  

Tomorrow the weather looks to change, but we'll just go with it. Every step of a journey is an adventure, every day an introduction to new people and new sights. Bring it on!

 Ilfracombe

An early start this morning as the nearby construction site sprung into life at seven o' clock. Throaty lorry engines with rasping banksman's are not the ideal alarm call. Never mind, the sun was out and the view not bad. We'd enjoyed our time in Watchet. the people were friendly, no noisy youngsters, bins were emptied and flower displays watered. If we come back to this area, we will defiantly return.  

Off early to be sure of securing a motorhome parking spot in a designated area in a car park near the harbour in Ilfracombe, we embarked on a journey of narrow roads, high hedgerows, uphill and downhill and lots of bends. It's a good job Marge is quite slender as we met three coaches along the way. As you know, Marge is left hand drive, so John who sits in what he calls the 'suicide seat' near the centre line had the line of sight and had to warn Angela of approaching vehicles. All in all, an interesting drive. Arriving at Ilfracombe just before midday, Marge unscathed, we took a walk out to the pier to view Damian Hurst's statue Verity which is constructed of stainless steel and bronze and stands just over 20 metres high. The statue represents truth and justice and is on loan to the town until 2032.

Lunch in Marge, then keen to walk out again we headed over to the other side of the harbour to avoid the throngs of holiday makers, a little too many for comfort.

Rapparee Cove at the foot of steep cliffs was quiet and undiscovered by the visitors over near the town. We walked on the beach scattered with thin flat pebbles worn smooth by the movement of the sea. Sparkling in the light like an assortment of Christmas chocolate coins. Despite the signs not to climb on the unstable rocks and to be aware of fast incoming tides John picked his way across them to view the next cove. 

Early evening and the car park is filling up, there are four vans at the moment and lots of cars arriving spilling out people and luggage ready to fill the accommodation in the already bursting nearby narrow streets. Meanwhile, for us it's curry night! 

 Watchet Harbour

Marge has been raring to get on the road after her move to Poole where one of the neighbours referred to her as a 'posh van'. Little do they know. It's two weeks since we moved into our new home, and we feel posh as well. If someone had said this time last year, not we'd be millionaires, but we'd own our first soft close toilet seat we would have laughed. Little things!

It was midday before we were ready to set off, stopping for lunch on route to Yeovil.

The layby beside the main road was noisy, but the view spectacular. that's one thing about Marge, she's a mobile room with a view.

Our destination for our first night the small Somerset coastal town of Watchet, where we'd read there were two allocated motorhome spaces. Charge for overnight parking £5.50. The ticket machine was un-cooperative refusing to accept any coins. As if on cue a parking attendant materialised saying parking was now free. Brilliant, more money for ice cream!  As always, one was taken by a non-motorhome vehicle, a lorry waiting to collect a piece of machinery from a nearby building site. Angela noticed the telephone number on its cab door was an Aylesbury number, close to where we'd moved from. chatting to the driver it materialised he lived in Wendover, and his wife worked at the nearby Stoke Mandeville hospital. Small world. Of, course he was impressed by Marge, so much he called a work colleague to come over and take a look at her.

Eager to set off and explore, we took the nearby path to Helwell Bay, locally known as Fossil Beach. Not getting our bearings quite right, we ended up scrambling over dangerous sea defence rocks, down to a small beach with no fossils. Great. Scrambling back up, Angela bottom in the air clawing at the rocks, we decided we'd best google Fossil Beach discovering it was further along the coast, accessed via a nice path with steps down to the beach.

Finally at our destination we walked along the foreshore across the vast flat rocky area where Angela spotted three large fossils.

By the time we left the beach, the tide was advancing to claim them. 

Tired from the last couple of months we opted for a fish and chip supper, fish (no batter) and mushy peas for John who is dieting. The evening sun was warm and we sat in a sheltered seating area on the small Esplanade to eat them. Then a further walk around the town and along the harbour wall, battered by the elements, the stonework like giant honeycomb.

No one has come to join Marge, but she's tucked in a corner near the war memorial and harbour, so we're hoping for a quiet night.

Saying that the seagulls flying above us have a different idea, what they are arguing about, who knows. Before we settle down to read our guide book we are amused by an elderly man walking a small dog nearby. 'Slow down he says' it's supposed to be a walk not a gallop'. Hear that Marge, let's take it nice and easy on this trip.

Longwick

Best night's sleep last night since we can't remember when. This morning we were awoken by the early leavers, but we didn't mind we were keen to breakfast so we could walk down to the river Thames before we left. Quite soon the site became busy with activity as many other people began to pack up to leave. But readers can you answer this question for us. why would you drive 150 metres to the facilities block to collect your bowl of washing up? There's nowt so strange as folk. These particular folks also had a pair of pink and yellow rubber gloves attached to either side of the front of their caravan, anyone know why?

Walking down to the river through fields of wild flowers and grasses thirsty with the heat and bees feasting on the abundance of pollen, we were reminded of our childhood when summer always seemed to be dry and hot, and many enjoyable hours were spent outside playing with our friends, climbing trees and building dens. When you knew what time to return home for lunch without having a watch to check the time. Oh, how we wish we could return to the halcyon days of our youth when life was simple. 

We have stayed at the Oxford campsite a few times but never walked to the Thames.

On the river two boats of eights (octuple sculls) sliced through the green water sending ducks and geese paddling to safer waters. Walkers and bicycles competed for space on the towpath. John always one to check if the height of someone's bicycle saddle is correct spotted a man whose knees almost hit his chin as he pedalled, what he failed to miss was his shorts were too low as well. Come on man, sort yourself it's Sunday morning for goodness' sake. Bike racks, let's not go there!

At Iffley lock where we left the river, we could hear the birds fretting in the bushes, protective of their young, the swallows from the nests under the nearby road bridge played tag overhead. 

Home now, the sun casting shadows across our newly mown lawn, we are ready to begin a new week. Just nineteen days to moving day. Panic! 

 Oxford

Today is our 22nd wedding anniversary. We know three's a crowd but we're going to let Marge celebrate with us. At the end of this month, we will be moving to Dorset. Since coming back from our trip to Cornwall we have spent many hours sorting, packing and scratching our heads over how much we can take with us as we are downsizing. Weary and confused, we decided before we left the area to visit a few of the places we frequent regularly. So, on this special day we decided a night at the Oxford campsite in Marge would recharge us.

This time two years ago we were in Italy, eating antipasti and octopus whilst enjoying a spectacular view from a cliff top restaurant on the Adriatic. But we're not complaining. 

Arriving at lunchtime, Marge decided to play up, immobilising herself. Don't start throwing a sicky Marge, enough is enough. But after a while she fired up and we sited her under the trees at the rear of the site. The facilities are open, but Angela desperate, nipped into Marge's bathroom only to find herself caught in a state of undress as John opened the rear doors of the van. Hi everyone, the Hamptons have arrived!

The weather warm with a sky so blue it hurt our eyes we donned padded shorts and set off along a cycle route towards the city centre and the dreaming spires. It is the end of the schools May half term holiday and those families who weren't caught in traffic frustrated bored and overheating had all decided to descend on Oxford, we'd never seen it so busy. At Magdalen bridge in the shadow of the Magdalen Tower we lent over the stone structure built in 1790 to observe the antics of the punters.

The men full of bravado and armed with a quant pole coupled with women fuelled by prosecco provided us with a comical spectacle. Seeking somewhere cool to escape the heat of the afternoon we cycled through the university parks to a wooded area by the boat rollers at Mesopotamia where the upper and lower levels of the river Cherwell meet. We have canoed here a few times and recalled those happy days. Soon we would be creating new memories in a new home, both exciting and a little scary. 

This evening not being able to source octopus in the local Tesco we celebrated with antipasti, olives, rib eye steaks strawberries and mint chocolates. And as a milky light crept across the evening sky, we looked forward to the journeys and adventures that lay before us.