I moan so much about Caravan and Motorhome Club sites that I am beginning to wonder if in fact I derive some kind of perverse satisfaction in being irritated by them. They are not terrible, some important things they do get right, like the spacious pitches and wide access roads. I also think in recent years they must have put a bit of an effort into training the uniformed 'wardens' to be a little less officious; the ones today were almost welcoming.
Anyway, not everything about home is terrible. Today is our eldest's birthday so we are off to spend a couple of days with Matthew. Abbey Wood camp site here we come; it's hardly the beautiful south, but it is South London and it does have parakeets. When you wake-up in the morning the Thamesmead environs may be somewhat 'Del boy', but the soundtrack is quite Andalusian, I just keep my eyes closed and pretend.
|London, far from the most visually appealling of the world's great cities...|
|Looks better after dark?|
Why are second tier English A roads the width of donkey tracks? This is certainly the case with the section of the A515 north of Ashbourne. Now that Buxton seems to have turned itself into a major centre for HGV operations the narrow Pennine A roads around it have become a tad hair-raising. Stage one of homecoming is signalled by an increasing number of Lomas tankers hurtling towards you on roads built for stagecoaches.
|Queue of cars, procession of cows - welcome home!|
We unloaded the van soggily, opened the pile of mail (nothing untoward), gave thanks that the car battery had just about enough juice in it for the engine to splutter into life, took the the van up to its storage spot among the sheep, returned, switched-on the laptop and booked the ferry to Santander for the 4th January.
The only problem is how to stay sane between now and then.