Burford Caravan Club Site
Today is more like October in England, sunny, but a bit crisp.
We have a leisurely breakfast, then get out the bikes and cycle along the small road from the site in the opposite direction to which we went yesterday, heading for a place called Carterton. We first pass through the small but pretty village of Shilton. Shortly after that we come to the B4020 which we had expected be a quiet road, but which in the event was quite busy. Fortunately there is a bridleway, which, we can see from our 30p map, will take us to Caterton by a slightly longer route, but traffic free. Kathleen grumbles slightly as we cycle along the bridleway on the basis that it is bumpy, has a few narrow bits with nettles, and is slightly muddy in places, but I have no difficulty in taking no notice.
We arrive in Caterton, which is a bit disappointing; it is a sort of MOD village, presumably built to accommodate people from the nearby airbase, very missable. We consult our map, and decide to do a circle back to Burford to have a coffee etc. It is looking good, I can see that the proposed route has promise, it passes not a single village, so not a shop in sight, and from Kathleen’s viewpoint it does not involve the bridleway we took to get here.
We peddle along a tarmac, but traffic free roadway, to emerge onto a small road. According to my reading of the map, exactly as it should be. Kathleen does not trust my map reading and decides to ask the driver of a Reliant Robin, which is parked by the road side. It turns out he is lost (even though he has a Tomtom!), so we end up giving him directions. Actually the road we have emerged onto is called Burford Road, a bit of a clue I would think. We cycle off along the road, and eventually emerge on the A40, so far so good. The road we need to take is about 20 yards on our left, on the other side of the A40. We opt to cross the road and walk along the grass verge rather than dice with the traffic. We then coast down a long hill, to the River Windrush, which we then follow to Burford.
We park the bikes and head for the coffee shop, Kathleen has her cream tea, which she has been planning since we left the van this morning. I opt for what is described as “rich fruit and nut cake”, in place of the cream scone. The cake is delicious, but would have been better if it had been twice as big.
We head back to where we have left the bikes, Kathleen spots a sign for a “Shoe Sale”, so despite my careful route planning, we still end up in a shop. The good news is that she got a pair of “fashion” boots for only £29-99. Since I had said I would buy her boots, and I was expecting to have to pay about £80, I suppose I should be grateful.
We cycle back to the van, via the quiet little road we used yesterday. We have done 16 miles, Kathleen has (hardly) complained about the hills, or the bumps or the nettles or the mud, and has now acquired the full outfit (ie skirt, jeans, two blouses, jumper and boots), so she is happy. Her justification is that she has not had any new clothes for “years”, I think it more like three weeks. I have enjoyed my fruit cake, and, according to womens logic, have “saved” £50, (but since I have actually spent £29-99 I will have to think about this) so I am happy.
Saturday 17 October 2009
Friday 16th October 2009
Burford Caravan Club Site
It suddenly occurred to me, that many people might not know where Burford is (I didn’t), well it is in the Cotswolds at the junction of the A40 and A361, about 10 miles from Bourton-in-the-Water. A very pretty area in a sort of chocolate box English way.
Today started as yesterday finished, dull and drizzly, but by 11:00 it had all cleared and the sun was shining again.
It does tell you in the site literature that we are near RAF Brize-Norton here, well as the day cleared it became apparent that we are very near, since for several hours huge RAF transport planes passed overhead. They are not noisy, just a bit disconcerting as you peddle along a country road and they pass overhead at just a low level. It must be the approach to the airfield, since they are not making much noise. At first we thought it must be a series of aircraft coming in to land, but given the state of the nation’s finances, it occurred to me that we cannot possibly have that many transport aircraft, so I think it must be pilots learning to take off and land and just doing circuits of the airfield. Did not spot any “L” plates however.
After lunch we cycled to Burford village. The object being to buy some mushrooms, and to find the Catholic church which Google told us was there. It is about two miles via the A361, but that is a busy road with no cycle track, so we took the scenic route using a map we bought from reception. This was 5 miles via a couple of other small villages, but nice and quiet, and almost flat.
Burford is on a hill, and the Catholic Church is at the top of the hill. We cycled past it without seeing it and did not realise until we had reached the bottom of the hill. I offered to push the bikes back to the top of the hill, whilst Kathleen wandered the usual collection of shops selling overpriced tourist stuff. What is it with women and shops?, even pushing two bikes up a steep hill is preferable to looking at more shops when you know you are not going to buy any of the stuff.
I park the bikes at the top of the hill, and find the church, then wander back down the hill checking out the pubs and coffee shops on the way. When I find Kathleen again we go into “The Mermaid” pub and have a couple of drinks. There is a real log fire burning, one of the old regulars appears to be in charge of it and heaps logs onto it as if there was six feet of snow outside. Since he and his pals are discussing where they want to be buried or cremated (when the time comes), we conclude he is auditioning for a place down below.
After the pub we find what appears to be the only “real” shop in the village (ie one selling food, beer and wine) and buy our mushrooms, before heading back to the van.
It suddenly occurred to me, that many people might not know where Burford is (I didn’t), well it is in the Cotswolds at the junction of the A40 and A361, about 10 miles from Bourton-in-the-Water. A very pretty area in a sort of chocolate box English way.
Today started as yesterday finished, dull and drizzly, but by 11:00 it had all cleared and the sun was shining again.
It does tell you in the site literature that we are near RAF Brize-Norton here, well as the day cleared it became apparent that we are very near, since for several hours huge RAF transport planes passed overhead. They are not noisy, just a bit disconcerting as you peddle along a country road and they pass overhead at just a low level. It must be the approach to the airfield, since they are not making much noise. At first we thought it must be a series of aircraft coming in to land, but given the state of the nation’s finances, it occurred to me that we cannot possibly have that many transport aircraft, so I think it must be pilots learning to take off and land and just doing circuits of the airfield. Did not spot any “L” plates however.
After lunch we cycled to Burford village. The object being to buy some mushrooms, and to find the Catholic church which Google told us was there. It is about two miles via the A361, but that is a busy road with no cycle track, so we took the scenic route using a map we bought from reception. This was 5 miles via a couple of other small villages, but nice and quiet, and almost flat.
Burford is on a hill, and the Catholic Church is at the top of the hill. We cycled past it without seeing it and did not realise until we had reached the bottom of the hill. I offered to push the bikes back to the top of the hill, whilst Kathleen wandered the usual collection of shops selling overpriced tourist stuff. What is it with women and shops?, even pushing two bikes up a steep hill is preferable to looking at more shops when you know you are not going to buy any of the stuff.
I park the bikes at the top of the hill, and find the church, then wander back down the hill checking out the pubs and coffee shops on the way. When I find Kathleen again we go into “The Mermaid” pub and have a couple of drinks. There is a real log fire burning, one of the old regulars appears to be in charge of it and heaps logs onto it as if there was six feet of snow outside. Since he and his pals are discussing where they want to be buried or cremated (when the time comes), we conclude he is auditioning for a place down below.
After the pub we find what appears to be the only “real” shop in the village (ie one selling food, beer and wine) and buy our mushrooms, before heading back to the van.
Thursday 15 October 2009
Thursday 15th October 2009
Burford Caravan Club Site
A short one today, becuse we have been travelling most of the day.
Today has not been too successful. We planned to go to the New Forest and stay at the Black Knowl Caravan Club Site, near Brockenhurst. We checked the website and it said it was full, but we have learned from experience that the website is seldom accurate, so we went anyway. Unfortunately when we got there it was full. Not actually full, but the vacant pitches were booked. The warden checked the other Caravan Club site in the New Forest (Bransgore), same story. So we decided to cut our losses and head for Cirencester, but same story there. According to the warden at all three sites, what happens is that people book sites “just in case”, but then fail to turn up. Since there is no penalty for not turning up, it seems fair game if you are selfish individual.
So we ended up at Burford, which is fine, but it is not in the New Forest.
Weather is damp, but we are told the forecast for tomorrow and the weekend is good.
A short one today, becuse we have been travelling most of the day.
Today has not been too successful. We planned to go to the New Forest and stay at the Black Knowl Caravan Club Site, near Brockenhurst. We checked the website and it said it was full, but we have learned from experience that the website is seldom accurate, so we went anyway. Unfortunately when we got there it was full. Not actually full, but the vacant pitches were booked. The warden checked the other Caravan Club site in the New Forest (Bransgore), same story. So we decided to cut our losses and head for Cirencester, but same story there. According to the warden at all three sites, what happens is that people book sites “just in case”, but then fail to turn up. Since there is no penalty for not turning up, it seems fair game if you are selfish individual.
So we ended up at Burford, which is fine, but it is not in the New Forest.
Weather is damp, but we are told the forecast for tomorrow and the weekend is good.
Wednesday 14 October 2009
Wednesday 14th October 2009
Littlehampton Caravan Club Site
Overnight rain gives way to an overcast morning. So we decide to go to Chichester on the bus.
According to the timetable, the number 700 bus runs from Brighton, via Worthing, Littlehampton, Bognor Regis, Chichester and on to Portsmouth. But it also goes to Arundel, which is not on the previous route. We eventually learn it is actually two different routes, from the same company (Stagecoach), with the same number. Confusing or what? But it is free, to us “oldies”.
So first of all we walk to the bus stop just outside the site to get the 700 into Littlehampton. As we wait an elderly couple arrive to wait too. His ears are already bleeding and he sits quietly, whilst his wife engages Kathleen in conversation. Well Kathleen listens and she talks. She is a good talker, I reckon she could hold her own at the round table.
We arrive at Littlehampton and find the correct place to catch the 700 to Chichester. It turns out we have just missed the bus (which runs every 30 minutes) by about 3 minutes. We settle down to wait. Amazingly, since we Northerners are always told that we are friendly and that Southerners are “stand offish”, we are engaged in conversation by an old chap who is also waiting for the bus.
He keeps us entertained for the half hour or so we have to wait. He is a regular Alf Garnett. We learn that he does not trust any of the politicians, dislikes Gordon Brown, detests Tony Blair and Cherie, and as for Lord Mandelson, (that snake eyed b*****d he calls him), don’t even go there. He has a good rant ranging from Tony Blair and the weapons of mass destruction, through MP’s expenses and the size of his council tax bill. Along the way we learn that he had emigrated to Australia and lived there for 26 years, that his children and grandchildren are still there. He gets his pension from the Australian government rather than the UK government and at present is enjoying a nice little rise as the pound plummets against the rest of the worlds major currencies. Quite why he came back to the UK to retire is not clear, since he tells us that Australia is the best country in the world, but we think it had something to do with his wife.
As we chat, a young woman arrives pushing a happy little negro child in a buggy. Our new friend exchanges a few pleasant words with them, and then tells me (and I quote), “these African babies are all happy little things, I think it is because they get carried about on their mothers back all day”, so he is obviously of the Bruce Forsyth school of Political Correctness.
The bus (a double decker) eventually arrives, about 15 minutes late, but it is free. By now there is a large queue, most of whom appear to be ancient and infirm, so we (as the “youngsters”) go upstairs, since I am sure the rest of the queue could not possibly make the stairs.
Forty minutes later, having had a tour of numerous small villages, we arrive in Chichester. The bus stops right beside the weekly market, so we wander through there, viewing the usual junk which all markets seem to sell. The highlight is a chap who is auctioning secondhand bicycles, most of them are in a deplorable condition and would not have cost more that £80 when brand new, but people are merrily parting with £20 for them.
It is lunch time, so our next port of call is a Coffee shop, which is also full of old people, where do th
ey all come from? I think our arrival has just reduced the average age by 10 years at least. We have a pleasant lunch on me, Kathleen conveniently has no cash to pay, since she needs to find a cash machine (I note she has not been looking very hard). Next some shopping, and more (womens) clothes are purchased, then an unsuccessful attempt to buy some (womens) boots. Finally a visit to the Cathedral, and it is time to go back to Littlehampton.
There is time for a hair washing, drying and straightening session, following which we enjoy a wonderful home cooked spag bol, and finish with the last of the Magnum’s.
Overnight rain gives way to an overcast morning. So we decide to go to Chichester on the bus.
According to the timetable, the number 700 bus runs from Brighton, via Worthing, Littlehampton, Bognor Regis, Chichester and on to Portsmouth. But it also goes to Arundel, which is not on the previous route. We eventually learn it is actually two different routes, from the same company (Stagecoach), with the same number. Confusing or what? But it is free, to us “oldies”.
So first of all we walk to the bus stop just outside the site to get the 700 into Littlehampton. As we wait an elderly couple arrive to wait too. His ears are already bleeding and he sits quietly, whilst his wife engages Kathleen in conversation. Well Kathleen listens and she talks. She is a good talker, I reckon she could hold her own at the round table.
We arrive at Littlehampton and find the correct place to catch the 700 to Chichester. It turns out we have just missed the bus (which runs every 30 minutes) by about 3 minutes. We settle down to wait. Amazingly, since we Northerners are always told that we are friendly and that Southerners are “stand offish”, we are engaged in conversation by an old chap who is also waiting for the bus.
He keeps us entertained for the half hour or so we have to wait. He is a regular Alf Garnett. We learn that he does not trust any of the politicians, dislikes Gordon Brown, detests Tony Blair and Cherie, and as for Lord Mandelson, (that snake eyed b*****d he calls him), don’t even go there. He has a good rant ranging from Tony Blair and the weapons of mass destruction, through MP’s expenses and the size of his council tax bill. Along the way we learn that he had emigrated to Australia and lived there for 26 years, that his children and grandchildren are still there. He gets his pension from the Australian government rather than the UK government and at present is enjoying a nice little rise as the pound plummets against the rest of the worlds major currencies. Quite why he came back to the UK to retire is not clear, since he tells us that Australia is the best country in the world, but we think it had something to do with his wife.
As we chat, a young woman arrives pushing a happy little negro child in a buggy. Our new friend exchanges a few pleasant words with them, and then tells me (and I quote), “these African babies are all happy little things, I think it is because they get carried about on their mothers back all day”, so he is obviously of the Bruce Forsyth school of Political Correctness.
The bus (a double decker) eventually arrives, about 15 minutes late, but it is free. By now there is a large queue, most of whom appear to be ancient and infirm, so we (as the “youngsters”) go upstairs, since I am sure the rest of the queue could not possibly make the stairs.
Forty minutes later, having had a tour of numerous small villages, we arrive in Chichester. The bus stops right beside the weekly market, so we wander through there, viewing the usual junk which all markets seem to sell. The highlight is a chap who is auctioning secondhand bicycles, most of them are in a deplorable condition and would not have cost more that £80 when brand new, but people are merrily parting with £20 for them.
It is lunch time, so our next port of call is a Coffee shop, which is also full of old people, where do th
ey all come from? I think our arrival has just reduced the average age by 10 years at least. We have a pleasant lunch on me, Kathleen conveniently has no cash to pay, since she needs to find a cash machine (I note she has not been looking very hard). Next some shopping, and more (womens) clothes are purchased, then an unsuccessful attempt to buy some (womens) boots. Finally a visit to the Cathedral, and it is time to go back to Littlehampton.There is time for a hair washing, drying and straightening session, following which we enjoy a wonderful home cooked spag bol, and finish with the last of the Magnum’s.
Tuesday 13 October 2009
Tuesday 13th October 2009
Littlehampton Caravan Club Site
Another beautiful sunny day, with temperature of 17C, this is just incredible for mid October in England!
We catch the bus to Littlehampton town-centre, then follow the walk recommended by the Tourist Information Office. It is supposed to be 4.5miles and takes you from the mouth of the river Arun, around the edge of the golf course, out to the (tiny) village of Climping and then back along the beach to where you started. Given the beautiful weather we have a great day, a picnic on the beach about half way around the walk, and a beer in Littlehampton when we finish, then on the bus to the campsite.
No photographs again, you know the reason why.
The remainder of the afternoon we spend sitting in the sun reading.
In the evening we visit the www.freerice.com web site to try and win more rice for the third world.
Another beautiful sunny day, with temperature of 17C, this is just incredible for mid October in England!
We catch the bus to Littlehampton town-centre, then follow the walk recommended by the Tourist Information Office. It is supposed to be 4.5miles and takes you from the mouth of the river Arun, around the edge of the golf course, out to the (tiny) village of Climping and then back along the beach to where you started. Given the beautiful weather we have a great day, a picnic on the beach about half way around the walk, and a beer in Littlehampton when we finish, then on the bus to the campsite.
No photographs again, you know the reason why.
The remainder of the afternoon we spend sitting in the sun reading.
In the evening we visit the www.freerice.com web site to try and win more rice for the third world.
Monday 12 October 2009
Monday 12th October 2009
Littlehampton Caravan Club Site
First a little note to continue yesterdays blog. While reading the Sunday newspaper, I came across an article relating to a website apparently frequented by Stephen Fry. This site is www.freerice.com. The site is a quiz site asking questions on vocabulary, geography etc. For every question you answer correctly, ten grains of rice are donated to the third world. The rice is paid for by advertisers who use the site to promote their products. So we spent some of the evening answering questions and donated 500 grains of rice to the third world by getting 50 correct answers. That made us feel a bit better about pigging out on Sunday lunch.
Today the sun is back. We decide to cycle to Shoreham-by-the-Sea, using the map we obtained from Tourist Information. Unfortunately the map does not have distances and is not very detailed, so we are not sure we will make it all of the way there.
In the event we make it as far as Lancing, just beyond Worthing, which gives us a 26 mile round trip. We take a flask of coffee, and picnic so we can be out all, or most of the day. It is a beautiful day and we stop off a couple of times to just bask in the sun, plus a couple of lagers and an enormous Chelsea bun on our return to Littlehampton.
This 26 mile trip brings Kathleen’s total mileage, since she got her current bicycle, to 1010 miles, which pleased her enormously. We don't have any photographs to record this momentous occasion because the camera was not with us.
First a little note to continue yesterdays blog. While reading the Sunday newspaper, I came across an article relating to a website apparently frequented by Stephen Fry. This site is www.freerice.com. The site is a quiz site asking questions on vocabulary, geography etc. For every question you answer correctly, ten grains of rice are donated to the third world. The rice is paid for by advertisers who use the site to promote their products. So we spent some of the evening answering questions and donated 500 grains of rice to the third world by getting 50 correct answers. That made us feel a bit better about pigging out on Sunday lunch.
Today the sun is back. We decide to cycle to Shoreham-by-the-Sea, using the map we obtained from Tourist Information. Unfortunately the map does not have distances and is not very detailed, so we are not sure we will make it all of the way there.
In the event we make it as far as Lancing, just beyond Worthing, which gives us a 26 mile round trip. We take a flask of coffee, and picnic so we can be out all, or most of the day. It is a beautiful day and we stop off a couple of times to just bask in the sun, plus a couple of lagers and an enormous Chelsea bun on our return to Littlehampton.
This 26 mile trip brings Kathleen’s total mileage, since she got her current bicycle, to 1010 miles, which pleased her enormously. We don't have any photographs to record this momentous occasion because the camera was not with us.
Sunday 11 October 2009
Sunday 11th October 2009
Littlehampton Caravan Club Site
Disappointingly, the weather forecast is wrong, instead of being another sunny day like yesterday, it is raining.
Fortunately the rain stops before it is time for Kathleen to go to church, but is does not reach the dizzy heights of the sun shinning on the righteous.
I do my usual and find a newsagents, buy a paper and settle down outside of the church for a good read. I just get started on how Alex Ferguson is about to get fined a few minutes earnings for criticising a referee, when someone turns up and starts talking to me. I must have one of those faces which makes people think I really want to talk to them, when in fact I just want to read the paper. My new Irish friend, Liam, is obviously here for the duration, so I reluctantly put my newspaper back in my bag and move into listening mode.
I am entertained for the next 45 minutes by Liam, who I learn:
is a builder
owns a few properties which he rents out
is a keen cyclist, having cycled 700 miles across the Pyrenees at 100 miles per day, and usually does the London to Brighton cycle ride
plays in a band, including gigs in Germany
I for my part give away that I am from Newcastle, which he could probably have deduced for himself.
Just before the end of mass, a fellow Irish man emerges from the church and the pair of them head off.
Kathleen appears and given that the weather is still not too good, we return to the van for coffee.
Shortly after 13:00, we head for the Six Bells pub, which has been highly recommended to us for its food, and where I have booked a table for 13:30.
The meal and wine are excellent, as usual I pig out on all three courses, while Kathleen settles for a main and a sweet.
What is left of the afternoon is spent lying about stuffed full and reading the Sunday paper, what bliss.
Disappointingly, the weather forecast is wrong, instead of being another sunny day like yesterday, it is raining.
Fortunately the rain stops before it is time for Kathleen to go to church, but is does not reach the dizzy heights of the sun shinning on the righteous.
I do my usual and find a newsagents, buy a paper and settle down outside of the church for a good read. I just get started on how Alex Ferguson is about to get fined a few minutes earnings for criticising a referee, when someone turns up and starts talking to me. I must have one of those faces which makes people think I really want to talk to them, when in fact I just want to read the paper. My new Irish friend, Liam, is obviously here for the duration, so I reluctantly put my newspaper back in my bag and move into listening mode.
I am entertained for the next 45 minutes by Liam, who I learn:
is a builder
owns a few properties which he rents out
is a keen cyclist, having cycled 700 miles across the Pyrenees at 100 miles per day, and usually does the London to Brighton cycle ride
plays in a band, including gigs in Germany
I for my part give away that I am from Newcastle, which he could probably have deduced for himself.
Just before the end of mass, a fellow Irish man emerges from the church and the pair of them head off.
Kathleen appears and given that the weather is still not too good, we return to the van for coffee.
Shortly after 13:00, we head for the Six Bells pub, which has been highly recommended to us for its food, and where I have booked a table for 13:30.
The meal and wine are excellent, as usual I pig out on all three courses, while Kathleen settles for a main and a sweet.
What is left of the afternoon is spent lying about stuffed full and reading the Sunday paper, what bliss.
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