26 June – 5 July: Emerging from (this?) lockdown

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Porlock Weir & Bridgewater Somerset, Honiton, Dorset, UK

This Friday we will be pulling out the driveway of our Somerset hideaway to once again hit the roads (click here for our planned upcoming locations). Our feelings are very mixed. We are looking forward to seeing family and friends, many of whom we’ve not had the opportunity to see yet in the flesh, but moving on from our protected little bubble will bring new risks as we move into areas of higher infection in the midlands in particular and interact with a wider number of people.

A reporter for the Guardian has spent the last couple of weeks driving around Britain interviewing people coming out of lockdown. We resonated with some of the themes that emerged. For instance, a determination to retain a focus on mental and physical health. For many people who have retained their positivity during lockdown they have credited this to regular exercise, and better eating and sleeping habits. We similarly are pleased with the amount of exercise we’ve been doing, and determined to not lapse back into sedentary ways when we are on the road.

Easier access to restaurants and pub grub is going to make it more of a challenge to continue the relatively healthy eating regime we have maintained, cooking almost all of our food from scratch. I take zero credit for this, other than being an appreciative consumer.

We have also been protected in this rural bubble from the noise and air pollution that many of Britain’s more urban environments suffer from, and we are going to find it a shock to return to the real world of heavy traffic and smog.

Fog not smog on a drizzly end of June morning….

But move on we must, and we have been busy trying to get our home on wheels ready to face the rigours of the road. Our main problem was that we lost all our 12 volt power, so no taps would work, no internal lights, the whole system was dead. We also noticed a very rotten egg type smell when we were working in there. Of course I was immediately blamed…but protested my innocence, and for once was proved guiltless. We did some research and eventually discovered that a dead battery if put under charge gives off a pungent aroma, as a precursor to then exploding!

We were lucky to find a local auto electrician to help us, everyone is so busy in lockdown fixing people’s vehicles that have been left idle. The guys at AD Auto-Electrical near Bridgewater were brilliant, quickly finding a wire on our alternator had been chewed though, presumably by mice when he had been left all alone on a farm in storage over the winter. They soon repaired it, then popped a couple of new batteries in, our motor home dealer, Fuller Leisure, agreeing to foot the bill even though strictly we were out of warranty. Good lads.

Super neat workshop and excellent service with a smile

We also managed to assess and repair some minor stuff ourselves, thanks to Catherine’s love of problem solving and a much more practical bent than my own. I did manage to fit a Heads-Up Unit to display speed directly onto the windscreen. It was so hard to read from the dashboard dial. It has worked very well so far, with no need now to take my eyes off the windscreen to make sure I am keeping under the multiple speed limits we constantly drive through. with speed cameras lining the roads.

We took an afternoon off jobs to walk another section of the South West Coast Path. We started from the small settlement of Porlock Weir, a small harbour with a documented use going back over 1,000 years. It wasn’t hard to imagine the regular waves of Danish and Irish invaders sailing up to the little jetty, with intentions ranging from trade to plunder.

A picturesque harbour village on the edge of Exmoor
When the tide is out there is no leaving this harbour
An old WWII pillbox slowly being swallowed by the beach

We spotted a little sign advertising local oysters, not a produce we expected to see in the western reaches of Somerset, so we plunged in to sample half a dozen.

Apparently a community initiative in 2013 led to Porlock Bay Oysters being the first oyster farm to achieve the top “Class A” certification in England and Wales. Another causality though of the closing of pubs and restaurants, they now have over 30,000 oysters plump and ready for eating, with their customers only just opening up. As with many businesses affected by lockdown, they are flexing their business models and trying to find new channels to market. In this case selling direct to the public. We loved our sample, easily beating for taste and texture the ones we tried in Normandy, although Scottish shellfish still sits up there for us.

Tick of approval from us! Yum!

The coast path led us up a steep track through woods smelling that unique pungent aroma you get from trees recently soaked with the showers that have persisted the last few weeks.

A young robin guides us along our pathway
The heavy grey clouds threaten rain, while the water is eerily still
A squirrel hides along side the path, pretending not to be there

We started to notice the remains of old walls and bridges, we learned later this is all that remains of the once grand coastal retreat for the first Lord Lovelace, married to the daughter of the poet Lord Byron. Not much remains of the once grand home, but what does certainly created an atmospheric backdrop to our wander.

Interesting green walled pathways
Tunnels and turrets make this like walking through a fairytale landscape
Mrs A tries out a stone seat set in the wall alongside the path

One of the Lovelace family also designed a grand gatehouse, which has been restored and sits over the entrance to what is now a quirky tourist attraction – a scenic toll road that winds its way a few miles along this beautiful stretch of coast. Our slightlly plump Truffy wont be fitting through that arch!

The toll booth with is thatched roof makes an interesting landmark
Hydrangeas line a picturesque stream alongside the toll road

This little walk was full of surprises. Next came England’s smallest parish church in the tiny village of Culbone.

The church and its font are more than 800 years old
Not many pews in here, and they look like you would get splinters!

Unfortunately we had run out of time and had to retrace our steps. Another place on the list to come back to, sometime in our unknown future…

The tide had come in while we were out walking
More storms approaching

Back at our little cottage which sits in the grounds of the rather grand main house, we had organised a bit of a celebration for the owner. Jenny had just had built a little folly in the garden. Well, not one to miss an opportunity for a decent glass in these stunning gardens, I suggested it should have a grand opening. With her friend down to stay for the weekend, our host concurred and a very pleasant evening was had gazing our over the Somerset countryside this property has such commanding views of.

We declare this folly open! Mr A joined by Julie, Jennifer, Billy-Boy and Mrs A
The sun going down over the hills

We also took a trip over the nearby Blackdown Hills to the small town of Honiton to visit a long-time friend of Catherine’s and her family. So many families have experienced tragedy thanks to this virus, and theirs was no exception, so it was an afternoon of laughter mixed with tears, with a very long and thoughtfully prepared lunch culminating in a dairy-free sponge cake, just so Catherine could join in and enjoy it. We also got a much needed feline fix from their gorgeous cat Worcester.

Karen and Worcester relaxing in the summer house

We were then able to return the favour when they came over to our place. We were treated to freshly baked scones, with jam and cream – our first cream tea this year – hopefully not the last!

Dan and Karen are joined by Sonny and Oliver – about to celebrate their 9th birthdays
Team photo by the pool – nobody braved the chilly waters this week though!
Tickles with dad

We also managed to celebrate the opening of pubs on the 4th July by popping down our nearest local for a couple of pints. It was great to see how hard they had worked to flex their arrangements, building a new outdoor bar, counting heads coming in to make sure there was sufficient room to keep our distance, taking down phone numbers for their participation in the Covid-19 track-and-trace scheme and lots of new outdoor seating and cover. Well done to the Farmers Arms.

Beer and pork scratching….what’s not to love?!

So as we start to pack up the cottage its hard to not feel nervous about what awaits us, but it‘s time to go. Saying goodbye to this welcoming community, and hoping one day we can work a return to this little slice of paradise into our travels.

10-16 June – Time accelerates in lockdown?

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Glastonbury, Exmoor & East Quantoxhead, Somerset, UK

We have both commented that the weeks and even months we have been in lockdown seem to be flashing past. I was puzzling about this and remembered reading something about how the perception of time accelerates as we get older. So that may account for why I am expereincing this phenomenon, you chuckle, but how about the “child bride” Catherine, as my friends endearingly have called her?

So here’s my take. One of the reasons that older people do experience the passing of time differently (well documented if you fancy going down that rabbit hole – start at the Wikipedia page) is that for them (“us” if you insist), new events are in shorter supply. We have seen it and done it. Our brains find it no effort to process those routine events, so as we pay less attention time appears to pass more quickly.

In lockdown for us, and I suspect many others, the days pass with little differentiation in activity, and it‘s all low stress, so the brain doesn’t engage too much in deciding which flavour of Pukka tea to have this morning. or do we turn right or left out the gate on our walk today.

However, the last week has brought two new activities into our lives. A book club and family genealogy. One of the things I really miss in lockdown is just shooting the breeze with friends, often over a glass of something. Digital catch ups for me are always more stilted, lacking the comfortableness of being able to pause and reflect, and gauge from body language how the other parties are reacting. Often the subject of conversation is books or article one of us has read, so after starting a particularly good read I decided to float the idea of an online book club amongst these friends. We had our first Zoom based hook up. Given the constraints of the medium it seemed to work for us.

The book chosen was the new best seller from Rotger Bregman, Humankind. Essentially it is an analysis of our basic nature, is it kind or is it cruel? It offers fascinating revisionist history on events and phenomena we thought we knew and understood.

Our inaugural book club read – want to join us? Read up to part 3 and join our next discussion on Friday 26 June

The other new activity that has helped time slow down a little and provide new stimulus, has been researching my family tree. Inspired by cousins of mine and Catherine. Catherine’s cousin Karen has been able to trace back theirs, to the the 1700’s in Orkney. Her family history is full of talented artists, rich merchants and military leaders. Some even have dedicated Wikipedia pages.

In contrast my ancestors (that I’ve tracked so far), have not broken out of the abject poverty of farm labouring, crammed into boarding houses with other families (16 of them in one case) except for a great grandad and uncle who both ran fish and chip shops, which perhaps explains my fascination for a well cooked plate of this English fare. More on this as our respective stories unfold.

I have never shown the slightest interest in my family history to date, I am ashamed to say, but whatever brain chemistry clicked into place during lockdown I’m so glad it did. I’m finding it hugely interesting and so grateful for the discretionary time to tackle it.

However, it hasn’t been all indoor sports, and our usual diet of walks only briefly held back by more typical changeable weather. We decided to check out Glastonbury, famous for its namesake the Glastonbury Festival, which isn’t actually held near the town, and that pretty much says it all. We found it an uninspiring, slightly run down place full of New Age nonsense shops (sorry but.. really…), however the local bakery did catch my attention!

A pasty and vegan sausage roll coming up thank you very much

The pubs were all still closed, but one caught Catherine’s eye given its distinctive facade. It turns out to be the oldest in south-west England.

The George and Pilgrim Hotel dates back to 1439 and is apparently the oldest pub in the south-west of England. The carvings over the door show the coat of arms of Glastonbury Abbey and those of King Edward IV.
Glastonbury Market Cross dates to 1846

We quickly donned our boots and escaped the thundering lorries that sadly hadn’t yet been routed out of the High Street in this town and dashed up the hill that rises up over the flat surrounding countryside of the Somerset Levels. Glastonbury Tor is a natural hill emanating of erosion, although a lot of twaddle has been written by New Age “scholars” about the function of the terraces that wind up its steep slope. I’m not going to even credit them by repeating what they say. The actual archaeology of the site does though remain clouded in the mists of the Neolithic though, like so much of our history from that period. For us it was sufficient to sit with our mugs of tea and quietly contemplate the fabulous 360 degree views.

A robin welcomes us to the base of Glastonbury Tor
Climbing up – short and sweet but rather steep
St Michaels Tower – all that remains of a church built here in the 14th century
Stormy skies surround us, but it remains dry where we are
Looking towards the south-east, enjoying a cup of tea
The Tor is a fabulous viewing point, and shrouded in legend, myth and mystery
Walking back towards town

With the novelty of inclement weather, we did an afternoon’s drive around the lanes and villages of Exmoor, our first excursion to this area. While it was a little too wet and cold to do too much walking, we did enjoy the sights, and managed to find a cute little deli in the village of Dunster that we’re sure to return to.

More rain on its way
The Deli in Dunster – only been open a few months, and most of that time we’ve been in lockdown – selling lots of local produce – we picked up some local cheese and cider

One walk that will forever remain in my mind from this week was the coastal ramble that forms a very tiny part of the “English Coast Path” (how did they think of that one?). I had no idea England had a path all the way round it..and it doesn’t…yet. When completed, in theory this year (in practice I doubt it, with the competition for funding in the recession that is going to hit the UK hard) it will be 2,795 miles in length (around 4,500 km).

Currently, various sections are open (click here for more details) and conveniently one of them is on our doorstep. I think this area must be one of the most well served in the world by long distance trails for walking and riding, quite amazing and a credit to the foresight of several governments, and the popularity here of getting out into this beautiful countryside.

We started our walk from a car park at East Quantoxhead, a small settlement a little way back from the coast. It was our first time on a bit of grass since we had our awning fitted in March, so much to the amusement of our fellow car park neighbours we rolled it out to check all was working.

Truffy looking lovely with his new awning out

Looks pretty good, however it‘s a reminder of our aborted plan to have spent the summer cruising through the hot climates of Spain and Portugal. We quickly roll it up again and put that thought behind us.

Marvelling at the wonderful views, yet again
The grasses gleam as we walk towards the coast

We wandered up to the cliff edge and gazed down the coast. I really can’t remember such a heart lifting view. We overhead a fellow walker exclaim “It looks more like a picture than real life”, and he wasn’t wrong.

The pebbly beach was pretty busy as there was a car park close, but as usual once again, no more than a 10 minute walk from the reach of a car and the population thins out to a spattering of smiling fellow trampers.

Looking along the coast towards Minehead
The rock platform at East Quantoxhead
Apparently lots of reptile fossils are to be found here if you look hard enough
A small ammonite fossil on the rock platform

Wild flowers, including orchids, were everywhere, the Quantock Hills, providing a stunning backdrop. No wonder this was the first place in the UK to be given a classification of Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

Anacamptis pyramidalis – Pyramidal Orchid
Far from the madding crowd…
A large ammonite fossil built into a garden wall

So we think our time here is drawing to a close, our little cottage is rented from July 12th, so we have to be out by then, but there’s no date yet for campsites to reopen, so that‘s introducing some challenges to our forward planning! Fingers crossed the government gets its new guidelines for them out in time, but its looking less likely I think.

A showery day gives us a break for a 8km walk around the hills
The sun brightening up the recently watered meadows
Fresh wild roses in the hedgerows attract many bees
Tine to speed up home as the next downpour approaches
Raining over Exmoor
The path ahead is clear…through this field at least!

25 May to 2 June: Summer comes to Somerset

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK

Another week streaks by in our lovely little rented cottage here in the west of Somerset, with a clear blue sky greeting us as we pull the blinds back every morning, apparently the sunniest May on record,

The toughest decision of the day, ‘Shall we walk or ride?’ and ’What shall we have for dinner?’ I think we will always remember this lockdown for the bizarre dichotomy of living our day to day lives in the most stress-free way we ever have, surrounded by the world in chaos.

This is a life we have never experienced before, having been mostly city dwellers, passing though the landscapes as we travel, but not being immersed enough in it to really appreciate the depth of its beauty and function. Not really seeing the rhythm of a life that goes on there by people who call it home.

Wild dog roses climb through the hedgerows
Honeysuckle, another climber
Insects pollinating the delicate cow parsley

I recently read a book that touched on this theme, called ‘A Shepherd’s Life’, set up in the English Lake District. The author, James Rebanks, a shepherd himself, makes a number of really poignant observations about the tourists who come and travel through his countryside, but with no appreciation of how that landscape is worked to produce the food that enables our lives. I feel in many ways our travels over the past few years, while broad in their scope, have lacked the depth of perception that comes when you stay in one place long enough to start to see the cycle of nature moving through the seasons, something we really don’t notice in Australia as much.

Nonchalant look from a neighbouring sheep as we stroll through her field

By this enforced stay in one place we have been able to watch spring come to the landscape, to see lambs take their first stumbling steps, to then come back a few weeks later and watch them bouncing around with their mates. To spot the wild flowers change as spring is turning into summer. It has just been a totally different, and in many ways, more meaningful expereince than the ‘drive through‘ touring we have been doing.

Welcome shade up on the hills

As I reflect back on individual walks we have done, all from our back door, they start to merge into one long memory of being immersed in this beautiful lanscape , putting one foot in front of the other as we watch a fox dash to a hedge before scornfully peering at us over her shoulder then disappearing instantly, or a deer startled by us invading its little slice of paradise, and bolting through the woods. We just want it to go on and on, relishing the breather from having to decided where to travel to, negotiating unfamiliar roads, trying to find campsites, constantly planning where we go next. Our minds feel calm, and it’s wonderful.

Mum and foal on a walk last weekend
More young foals on another walk in the hills
A young colt wakes up from a nap as we pass by

The history of humans in this landscape continues to enthral us. In Australia it is so inaccessible to most non-indigenous folk like us, but here it’s around every coroner. The fire beacon on the top of a hill, lit to warn of invaders sailing up the estuary, there’s a story to be uncovered everywhere we look.

Beacon Hill looking out towards Minehead
More lovely Highland Cows grazing on the grass here
A young calf eyes us suspiciously
A brief break to enjoy the view
Shades of green
Stout Lane which leads us back down to West Bagborough and The Rising Sun Inn
Carpets of purple Rhododendron petals line our path

It was time to swap our boots for our bikes, and I had read about a cycle trail running through the coastal town of Barnstaple. The Tarka Trail (named after the 1927 novel, Tarka the Otter, set in north Devon) is over 200 kilometres of traffic-free path, the longest in the UK, and all running along old railway lines. Off we set, for our longest drive (at 90 minutes) since mid March. It felt like quite an adventure! We had read horror stories about the traffic on the coast, but this day it was empty, as was the car park, apart from the mobile virus testing station being run from a big army truck.

Not ‘too’ hard to find a parking space in Barnstaple

This was magnificent riding, we batted along and soon found ourselves passing though a number of small villages before settling on the beautifully positioned Instow, on the estuary of the river Taw and Torridge (just roll of the tongue don’t they?).

This medieval bridge is grade 1 listed and known as the Barnstaple Long Bridge
Low tide means these boats are going nowhere
Lovely countryside reaching down to the water’s edge
Mrs A stops along the path to take a photograph
A meadow full of oxeye daisies
Looking across the River Torridge to Appledore

We chatted to a couple of fellow cyclists who turn out to be motorhomers as well, as we munched into our first proper Cornish pasty. Just blissful. We so miss that random connection with another human being sharing stories and learning from each other.

Lunch at Instow
A real cornish pastie (dairy-free) from the superb local deli – John’s of Instow – glad it’s not closer, it would be dangerous!
Looking across the wetlands towards the Torridge Bridge
You can almost imagine an old steam train puffing over this bridge
This viaduct used to house a canal over the river, but has since been filled in and now serves as a grand driveway to a house!
One of the many tunnels we ride through

With 50 kilometres under our wheels we arrived back at our car park and noticed the army truck had left, and the 2.7 metre height barrier had been put back down. Given we are driving a 3 metre high motorhome, that became a problem!


It had been lifted up when we arrived and I had sailed through, not really anticipating it would be lowered and locked. Oops…several panicked phone calls to the council, who were wonderful, and a warden arrived to unlock it. Next problem, the army had changed the padlock and not told him the combination. He tried for a while to reach them with no success. We had visions of spending the night there, which would have been illegal under the current restrictions, with no bed linen, food or cooking equipment. Luckily in the end they reached the military men and we were released.

A fish and chip supper in Truffy on the way back and our day trip was complete. There is just something about well fried English fish and chips that tastes so delicious to us, starved of that in Australia where they do it very differently. I guess its what you grow up with, hard baked into your taste buds, like mother used to make Yorkshire pudding, in my case.

Saturday afternoon saw us off on another 10km walk through the Quantocks
Discovering a hidden valley with amazing views
A pristine babbling brook and an ancient tree just asking for us to have a rest
Bright spears of foxgloves break up the fresh greens of the new bracken
Just seen a red deer!
The scenery is just so lovely
A dunnock sits proudly on top of a young spruce
After showers, a relax by the pool with drinks and the last of the day’s sunshine

The only interruption to our serene regime comes when Catherine is out on a walk and arrives back carrying the tiniest baby rabbit (apparently called a kit).

Tiny, blind, deaf and hairless but alive, Mrs A couldn’t leave her to die

She had noticed it lying on the road, just having been narrowly missed by a car and covered with gravel. Its little eyes were still closed it was so young, maybe a day old. Perhaps the victim of that fox we saw, or a buzzard? Catherine was straight on to her sister, who worked at the RSPCA, and armed with advice put a message out onto the local village chart group. A few minutes later a kindly neighbour has offered her a heat pad and syringe to try and get some nourishment into her. All we have is oak milk, but she takes it and seems to settle down in the cosy little warm nest we have made.

Our little charge manages. little warmed milk

So here we are on the second morning with an addition to our household, and she is still with us. So two extra days of life for this little one. Catherine’s niece and nephew are loving following the story, and just for that alone its worth it. A cycle down to the local Co-Op rewards us with kitten milk, apparently the best substitute for doe milk. Catherine is almost clucking with maternal delight feeding her this morning, until the little one releases her first pee down her arm.

Then and now – Mrs A feeding a kit during the 1980s…and now

We have decided now she seems stable, that a name is appropriate. Catherine has the inspired idea of Bags..as in we are in West Bagborough, so Bags Bunny. I will leave you with that to roll your eyes and laugh at us, or with us, we don’t really care 🙂

Bags Bunny’s relatives?

11-16 May: Starting to explore the South West Coast Path

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Minehead and Porlock, Somerset, UK

With the welcome news that as from this week, we were to be encouraged by the UK government to spend as long as we wanted in the outdoors, I widened my search parameters for local walks and rides. So far we have done everything from our front door. Now we could legitimately give Truffy, our little used motorhome, a badly needed run and get that oil moving round the engine and those batteries charged up.

I spotted references to a long distance path I confess to never having heard of before called the South West Coast Path, which fortuitously starts just down the road in Minehead. This path is part of the system of National Trails that criss-cross the UK, and this one happens to be the longest at a foot burning 1,014km (630 miles).

The route follows the old tracks used by lighthouse keepers when they walked between each lighthouse checking for smugglers. Now the walk runs from Somerset, through Devon and Cornwall and round to Poole Harbour in Dorset. Back in 2012 a piece of research was commissioned to estimate how much revenue walkers on the path brought into the local communities – a whopping £412 million (AU$775 million) – the equivalent of around a thousand jobs.

The welcome hum of insects as we start off on the walk
Newly hatched peacock butterfly drying its wings alongside the path

Well, unfortunately in these times of pubs and cafes being closed, we didn’t contribute anything into that pot on our first two jaunts onto the path, and not for the want of hunger or thirst. However, times will change and I’m sure we will going forward into peacetime.

The first walk we did (Strava link) was starting right at the “beach” (no, get that image of sand out of your head and picture rocks and shingle) in Minehead. The track soon had us climbing up onto the cliffs with stunning views over to Wales across the Bristol Channel. I appreciated how, over the length of the walk, someone had calculated that a person would be climbing the equivalent of four times the height of Mount Everest!.

The pebbly beach at the start of the walk by Minehead Harbour – Truffy in the distance on the right
The path starts with a gentle upward slope before getting steeper to take us up onto the cliffs
Sheep and horses graze on the fields behind the beaches, here looking over to Wales
Climbing up and up…
Beautiful rhododendrons flowering along the path
Mrs A checking out the walk book for more information
An Exmoor pony gives us a questioning glance as we pass
The first foxgloves are starting to open
Mr A’s vertigo started to kick in at this point
Looking to the horizon, trying to spot Ireland
The vibrant greens and yellows on the walk

We were mesmerised by the views once again, the coastline here is so rugged, the wildflowers spectacular. However, we both noted the muddy brown colour of the Bristol Channel. A bit of Googling revealed its the turbidity (now there’s a word you have to work into conversation) caused by the fast tidal flows along the River Severn which empties into it, plus the natural geology which makes the riverbed sediment-rich. Not somewhere I will be rushing to get the packrafts out into. We took the “rugged” option right along the cliffs. I was soon at my limit for high exposed walking. As I’ve got older I experience vertigo more frequently, and this was one of those movements. So we returned the way we had come, constantly mesmerised by the changes in the landscape, the variety of flora and fauna. This is a wonderful corner of the world.

Our second walk a few days later (Strava link) started in the small village of Porlock. Childhood home of one of dearest friends in Australia, Richard Dawes. It was wonderful wandering round imagining him as a boy darting down the little alleys. We so miss him and his wife Rosemary, and for a precious moment we felt connected across the miles.

One of Porlock’s many thatched cottages
Little footpaths wind behind the roads
Interesting buildings – look at this chimney!

Porlock is one of those picture postcard perfect Somerset sea side spots that I’m sure have tourists flocking in peacetime. On our visit we (thankfully) had the walks almost to ourselves.

We headed along a woodland path lined with bold robins puffing our their chests as if proudly showing off their habitat.

Looking out across the fields to the Bristol Channel
Yet another lovely woodland path
A robin pauses from hunting insects
He follows us down the path while we walked

We soon emerged down at the beach (again..think lots of rocks), and followed the South West Coast path along the foreshore.

The colourful pebbles
The breakwaters look like interesting sculptures
The murky waters lap on the shingle and pebble beach
Picnic on a bench at the top of the beach
Dry teasels – remnants of last summer
Walking around the freshwater marshland – this whole area has been inundated in the past, causing the trees to die
Freshwater streams criss-cross the marsh
Looking back towards west Porlock
Could be pheasant egg shell remnants?
Hiking across the marshland around the high tide mark
Which way now?

We only crossed paths with one other couple on our walk. When I struck up a conversation with them, they turned out to be good friends with the only other people we had got to know in Somerset! Synchronicity once again telling us that this is a place with a good vibe.

A young robin along one of the lanes – not developed his fear of humans nor his red breast

We gazed out to sea and realised not far over the horizon was Ireland, County Cork in particular. So many places still on the list. Perhaps our experience will be different when we travel in the future, but travel we will. We day dream as we wander of walking holidays exploring further along this National Trail, regularly voted one of the top long distance walks in the world. Perhaps…who knows….one day.

26 April-4 May: A postcard from our future?

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK

‘Have we just been sent a postcard from our future?’ You may have seen the attention grabbing headlines from various newspaper articles reporting on research just published claiming 11,000 deaths in the last 30 days have been avoided in Europe alone as a result of falls in air pollution. The original research paper is here and really worth a read at only 10 pages.

If the research turns out to have validity, then surely it should alter the whole way we think about how we live our lives and the decisions we make about who should govern us?  Catherine is using some of her medical connections in respiratory diseases to get their input, but as a layperson it makes a pretty compelling case. The newspaper headlines of course leave out the ‘projected’ deaths bit, but journalistic sensationalism apart, the evidence that air pollution makes us sick, and kills a lot of people is pretty solid. According to the WHO 4.2 million people a year globally die premature deaths as a result of ambient (air based) air pollution. Food for thought. 

As we wander around our little corner of England, we take big deep breaths, and ponder how we would love a future that had air always tasting this good, skies this clear, and the background noise of the combustion engine so muted. We also appreciate we need economies functioning, and our lives enriched by being able to mingle with a wider community of loved ones, and friends-we-have not-yet-made.

A lot of our friends have seen how unnecessary many of their journeys to work are, some proving the work-from-home model to sceptical employers, or delivering training on line rather than flying to Asia from Australia to put people in a classroom. 

Greater stitchwort, Stellaria holostea – actually another edible flower and plant. It looks like there are 10 petals, but there are actually 5 pairs with splits. Nice to decorate (and eat in) a salad apparently.
Another visit to our wooly haired neighbours…
You’ll find there will be more photos of the two of us coming up with the purchase of a new tripod!
Delicate pink rhododendron buds burst into a subtle creamy bloom
Camassia flowers in the meadow beside our cottage

Yes, the air seems clearer, the colours of the countryside even more vivid, and the bird song emboldened.

Even on a stormy day, the colours of the soil look rich and warm, the lush greens of the fields contrasting as they stretch into the distance
No longer a short cut across this field, we walk around the outside
Love how the sunlight spotlights particular fields and woodlands. Look carefully towards the middle of this image and you will see a tall tower – this is Combe Wood Tower, built in 1750 to spy on the owner’s neighbours (among other reasons!)
Not being country folk, we are learning a bit about farming life. Last week we saw a newborn calf tottering after its mother which still has afterbirth hanging from her body as she munched nonchalantly on grass…no photo of that, enjoy these slightly older calves instead.
Following a path through the Bagborough Plantation
Moss covered branches that haven’t moved for years
Beautiful colours throughout the woodland
A huge beech tree, literally glowing after the rain on its new leaves
Hiking up, West Bagborough down the hill behind us
Ancient moss covered walls as we descend Stout Lane
The trees have grown through and over these walls – probably from a nut that sprouted many centuries ago sitting on this wall
Wild rhododendron flowers looking bright and fresh

Our walks take us across new paths through ancient oak woodlands and modern spruce plantations. Every walk gives us an injection of hope that we can continue to appreciate the world around us even in these difficult times.

(Below 12km circuit hike can be found on Strava)

How’s this for a green lane of many shades? A sunnier afternoon walk last Thursday
Our favourite dead tree now surrounded by sheep and lambs
Same location, a month apart – helps us see how the leaves have filled out in the trees around Cothelstone Manor and the church
And now fields of rape are flowering..
A picnic in a meadow
Continuing our spectacular walk towards what used to be Ivyton Dairy
Can’t stop smiling, the scenery, the birds, the fresh air – all so lovely
A nicely marked path up to Ivyton Dairy – now a dog resort and luxury housing
Look at where we are! Can’t get more socially isolated than this…
The patchwork of colours in these fields is incredible
Bluebell wood – this is where we wish we could share perfume along with our photos – it was incredible in here.
Crossing back over Cothelstone Hill on our return route – the ponies are sheltering together from the brisk wind. The views over the Bristol Channel are the clearest yet
Still enjoying the bluebells in our local plantation as well

Then my body tells me I need to take a break from walks with a swollen ankle and what looks like tendinitis. It was time to switch gear and get on our bikes.

We don’t have dedicated bike paths around our rural enclave in Somerset, but we do have hundreds of miles of beautiful lanes almost devoid of cars at the moment. A great ride helped us to see a few more of the villages that surround us and are too far to reach in a day hike. Thank goodness for our pedal assistance though from our Bosch motors, with many many steep climbs! On the way we continue to strike up conversations with locals. Gee they’re a friendly bunch round here! To us, that’s one of the joys of cycling, you get to cover more ground than walking, but are not cut off from the world around you as in a vehicle.

(Cycle the same 28km route – find it on Strava)

Crowcombe Court in Crowcombe – in peacetime used for functions
Mr A having a relax in the quiet village centre
The village church – Church of the Holy Ghost dates from the 14th century. In the early 1700s it was stuck by lightning and the spire is now mounted opposite the entrance (to the left of the photo)
A lovely MG parked outside Stogumber Station – part of the UK’s longest heritage railway. In peacetime there would be a tea shop here with a lovely garden for a cuppa and cake
Half way up the very steep Ashbeer Hill
The village of Stogumber nestled in the valley

The surge in cycling participation rates being reported globally is encouraging. “Bicycles are the new toilet paper, and everyone wants a piece”, as the head of Giant bicycle sales for Australia was reported as so cogently putting it. Here in the UK, investment  in cycling infrastructure also continues, a billion pounds committed to cycling and walking initiatives over the next 5 years. France also announced an initiative to subsidise bike repairs up to 50 euros, You have to give credit there for a good way to divert some money into bike shops. 

Silverdown Hill
Fabulous views over the Quantock Hills

The two nuclear power stations nearby at Hinkley Point are a constant “feature” as we gaze down towards the coast. I was intrigued to read that here in the UK, the energy market has just gone coal-free for the last 20 days, the first time since 1882! Some of the local farms are contributing to that with the production of crops for biomass power.

Mind you, there has been a run of “warm” days through April (apparently classified here as when the temperatures get into double figures centigrade) and  require the wearing of t-shirts and shorts! I’m still exposing minimal body parts of course until there’s a 2 in front of any double figure number 🙂

The UK government has now committed to close all its coal fired plants by 2025, a strong contrast to Australia’s fossil fuel centric policy. 

Our love of the area and the community in which we have randomly found ourselves is a constant reminder to us that life’s curve balls may get thrown for a reason. I read a book years ago called the Celestine Prophecy, and its central message has stayed with me. The author (James Redfield) proposes that as we wander through our lives we will find ourselves confronted by moments of synchronicity, coincidences that seem so improbable , like bumping into the friend from home from the other side of the world. We’ve all had these moments. My weirdest was while hitchhiking round Crete, I was at a low point after walking for miles in the hot sun, and who should pull up in a car beside me, but my parents‘ next door neighbour. The philosophy of synchronicity purposes that we should ascribe meaning to these so called co-incidences, and take them as the opportunities they are meant to be. To reconnect with that friend overseas, who then turns out to be the person who offered you a job back home, as happened to me for instance. Or those neighbours who became a lifeline for me over a very difficult time.

So many events that look random in our lives put us at a crossroads. Maybe we have been forced to take a long hard look at life in rural England for a reason. We think we know why, but that’s a story for another time.

16-20 April: Celebrating five years of having the “freedom to roam”

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK

For those of us in isolation without young kids or a job to manage, its likely you have more discretionary time to reflect and think about what this disruption means to our hopes and dreams.

It’s been five years since I got a phone call out of the blue from the HR department of my last employer informing me that the business unit I worked for was no longer deemed a priority and would be closed down. At the time it was a shock, but I look back on these past five years now and realise it was the best thing that could have happened. Who knows how this pandemic is going to affect our ability to travel in the future, certainly our financial situation like many people, is more uncertain. Travel through countries that are going to be economically impacted will be more problematic as crime is likely to soar, and our mode of travel in a motorhome presents some particular risks in that regard.

But as my dad used to say, “memories are better than dreams”, and no one can take away our five years packed full of adventures both in Australia and across Europe. If we had stayed the safe path and amassed some more money, would these same options have presented themselves?

The first rhododendron flower

We certainly haven’t given up our dreams of more travel in our mobile homes, but we accept things may not be as easy going forward and we will need to adapt. Meanwhile we carry on here in deepest, bucolic Somerset taking things a day at a time. The rhythm of our weeks remains the same, with rambling through the multitude of footpaths that criss-cross the Quantock Hills the common thread that keeps us positive.

One of the constant joys is to better understand the history of the landscape we are privileged to walk through. On one of the regular starts to our walks past the local church and manor house in West Bagborough, we had noticed a massive stone wall enclosing a large area of land. We decided to try and find a way in, and succeeded to emerge in this huge forlorn looking space, with ramshackle buildings clustered at one end.

This cellar has a water pipe and some old rusty tools
We’d love to know the story behind this collapsing building, slate roof tiles on the floor
Fruit trees keep on flowering year after year

I’d made contact with a local lady who was one of the volunteers looking after local archaeological sites, and she introduced me to the rich source of data in the Somerset Historic Environment Record. Turns out this was a kitchen garden dating back to 1730, with quite some walls! No flimsy trellis for these guys, but red sandstone 4 metres high! Quite some protection for your lettuce leaves against marauding rabbits. This part of England is so rich in history, it is just fascinating to learn a little more each day.

Sweet Chestnut flowers beginning to bloom – a hay fever sufferer’s nightmare
Holly flowers and the first new season poppy

Spring is here, the bluebells are poking their heads out, and Catherine is in a fever of photography, which is wonderful to watch. We make up our tea flasks, lace up our boots, cast aside our worries and “head for the hills”.

Spanish bluebells are white
Délicate shades of mauve
Newborn lambs skip after their mother, their cute little cries just adorable
Beautiful scenery sculpted in the 18th century
St Agnes Well – dating to 1300-1500 – you’re invited to dip your fingers in the water here and make a wish…you can guess what we wished for…
Some of the paths we take need a little pruning on the way through
Spotted by a few of the locals (red deer….a long way away!)
Even on an overcast afternoon the scenery is striking
Felt a bit nervous walking through here after a rainy (yes! rain!) afternoon watching Stephen King’s ‘In the long grass’ film….

Walking is calming our minds and keeping us positive. One day we will be back on the road again, until then we can only be grateful we took the risk when we did to rent out our home, leave behind security and the comfort of the known and explore a small portion of this great wide world we live in. Five years has passed for me so quickly, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Finding serenity in our local woodland
Carpets of bluebells under the beech trees
Twenty Acre Plantation
A very special place, Cothelstone Hill
Birds flit across our pathway, lined with flowering gorse
Walking along Wilfs Path…we wonder who Wilf was
Heading into Tilbury Park
Beautiful views across from Tilbury Park

7-12 April: Spring progresses in the Quantocks

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK

It has been over twenty years since either of have watched an English spring bring the countryside alive. One day we are walking around in winter coats and beanies, then a few days later its shorts and t-shirts! The smells and sounds of the changing seasons are almost overwhelming our senses, triggering nostalgic memories for both of us.

The great wood brings the aroma of fresh pine
Just us and the Exmoor ponies for company
Snakes Head Fritillary, primroses, dandelions, bellflowers…
Orchids, snowdrops, blossom and wild garlic
Wood anemones, grape hyacinths, and yellow archangel flowers (middle-left – now considered an invasive species) and delicate wood sorrel (top left – only found in ancient woodlands)
Some of our neighbours checking us out as we stroll through their field
The bluebells are starting to come out in the woodlands

We have continued our exercise regime, with a couple more spectacular walks through the Quantock Hills. We keep stopping and listening to the buzz of insects growing a little louder every day, a bird proudly flying with a big ball of wool to line her nest, lambs greedily feeding from mum, and the slightly eerie but oh so fabulous complete absence of the background noise of humans. Not a vehicle engine to be heard, no roar of planes overhead, just the sound of nature going about its business, uninterrupted by the usual synthetic cacophony.

Dame’s Violet, the colours ever more vivid in the clean, clear air
All Saints Church in Aisholt village, dates to the 14th century
Half a scotch egg and a cup of tea in the churchyard
We saw our first wild red deer on this walk…this was not it
The woodlands are beginning to green up
Temperatures have climbed in to the early 20s, so shorts and t-shirt are the new attire
This moss covered tree has seen a lot of years
Pheasants are frequent visitors, the cocks looking colourful in their breeding colours

In the middle of this tranquility came the news on Thursday afternoon before Easter, that by the end of that long weekend we needed to move out of our rambling big house that had been home for the last three weeks. We know our landlord was trying to find a long term tenant, but I guess we had convinced ourselves it wasn’t going to happen with all the restrictions of movement in the lockdown. Well, we were wrong.

What followed was 48hrs of frantic searching for a new property to rent. The assistance of friends was enlisted, and once again we were blown away with the effort and thoughtfulness of those who tried to help.

Things were looking dire, and then a cancellation in a holiday rental literally across the road from us gave us an opportunity we grabbed. Home for at least the next month, and most likely two, will be a lovely cosy little two bed cottage, a barn conversion attached to a bigger house and set in the most fabulous gardens.

Our tiny little Honeysuckle Cottage…bigger than Truffy at least!
Beautiful landscaped gardens available to tenants

As for most people, life has been a roller coaster the last month, and the support of friends and family mean everything. We woke this morning with our first “Zoom Hangover”, after a cracking night chatting with friends around the UK and drinking a little too much wine, dissipating our pent up anxiety via laughs and conversation.

A final sunset – we will have to find a new viewing location

These are strange times, and we need our relationships with those who we hold dear to help us make sense of our lives right now.

1-3 April: Guiltily enjoying isolation

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK (still!)

If you’ve been reading our last couple of blogs you will know how lucky we have been to find ourselves isolating in such a stunning part of the world as the Quantock Hills in rural Somerset. We are therefore determined to make the most of this fortunate opportunity and do all we can to come out of this isolation in better shape mentally and physically.

Our nearest neighbours – a field of bleating lambs – so cute!

During the bushfires in Australia earlier this year I couldn’t stop reading the horrifying news. My health was poor, and my spirits were low. We have decided in this crisis to look after ourselves better. Here’s what we’re doing in case there’s any useful ideas for our readers.

Limiting media coverage. /. Looking after our bodies. /. Control – new routines and habits

Limiting our “negative news” input. The single biggest and most impactful change we’ve made is restricting how much news about the pandemic’s negative impact we watch/read. We check in on whats happened in Australia overnight, then enjoy our day with no checking on media until we turn on the TV early evening for the daily BBC updates live from the the government. Then we force ourselves to switch it immediately off before the journalists and talking heads come up with all their “government is not doing enough” or “if only we had done this sooner” and other pointless finger pointing or sensationalist commentary. It gets us nowhere. Until we’re offered tests or a vaccine what’s the point? It just messes with your head.

Boosting our immune systems. Everything we’ve read from the medical profession points us to using all this additional free time we have on improving our overall health with exercise, preparing healthy food and having quality sleep. Catherine has mentioned our every other day pilates sessions, well we’re on session eight now and I’ve already noticed a difference in my balance moving around the house and out on walks. I’m a clumsy old fella as some of you know, with a pronating ankle that keeps pitching me over. Well I’m going to stop that and will be ballerina like in a few months 🙂

On the food side of our regime, Catherine has always been a fan of cooking from quality basic ingredients and using her extensive stash of herbs and spices, rather than using pre-mixed sauces that usually contain lots of long numbers of additives and sugar. Having said all of that, the first person to die in our network is healthy mid forties guy with no underlying health conditions we are aware of. So maybe we just take this path knowing it might not save us, but if we do survive then it will be in better shape!

Another lovely walk down new pathways to us
Plenty of hill walking to get the hearts pumping and leg muscles burning

Taking control – creating new routines. In this crisis where our daily routines are turned upside down, our minds need to find some order in this chaos to try and make sense of it all. The science of mental health tells us that keeping to a daily routine will help us reduce anxiety in a world where we can no longer maintain our old habits of going out to the pub, or the gym, or round the neighbours for a cuppa. So getting up and enforcing a structure to the day seems to help our minds settle. Its also a great opportunity with more discretionary time, to establish new routines that we’ve always aspired to, but never habituated (like our pilates). We can’t control the suffering that is happening all around us, so taking charge of things we can influence seems even more important to our well being.

And just loving the solitude in these hills on our walks, sunshine, fresh air and rewarding views
A cup of herbal tea and a piece of fruit as we reflect on our environment
More signs of spring everywhere we look, accompanied by bumble bees and newly hatched butterflies

So our days here pass into weeks, we fall into a pattern that takes us out almost every day into the beauty of the Quantock Hills. We read the government guidance on exercise quite carefully, and feel we are well within it to be walking for a few hours on mostly deserted paths. The few people we do come across we give a wide berth. We take hand sanitiser or alcohol wipes for when we have to open gates. Every day brings the simple delight of packing up a rucksack with some fruit and thermos of tea, lacing up our boots and walking out our front door. The biggest decision of the day being turn right or left.

Turning left and then right, we discover this pathway
Magnificent views wherever we walk
And interesting woodpiles

Yes we feel guilty we have it this easy when so many people are suffering through this pandemic in horrific ways. 4,300 people have no died in the UK, but what can we do? Catherine spends an hour or so a day looking after her support group and working to help various doctors around the world, while I need to be protecting her by limiting my physical contact with people outside our cottage. So stay at home it is.

To know that we have the time to settle in one place and to really get to know an area, to read about its history, to explore every little footpath, to not have to feel rushed. The English countryside, and this little corner in particular, has just captivated us with its density and variety of visual, auditory, and olfactory delights.

Its no wonder this area inspired romantic poetry of the great Wordsworth and Coleridge, who spent some of their highly productive years living up the road and penning their great works after inspiring walks though these very hills. The sounds of the birds, the rich, country smells, the vivid colours of this landscape, they each trigger so many memories for both of us when we lived in England. Australia has given us both so much, but its a very different experience, and we’re so grateful we get the opportunity to spend time immersed in both.

A patchwork of fields below us
Lovely old houses at every turn
Drinking up these views
An old pile of bricks all that remains of what probably was a house on this hill

27-28 March: Stocking up and loving the space

Author: Mr A

Location: West Bagborough, Somerset, UK

Yesterday we had to go out into the big bad world, Truffy needed his MOT. If its due April 1st or beyond you are now given a pass for a while. Ours ran out two days before that so we found ourselves a lovely little garage and took a walk around the village while he was being examined. We saw this signpost for two villages that made us chuckle! Sounds like heaven.

Too far apart for drinks then dinner?

Thankfully Truffy sailed through the MOT so we then decided as we were out on “essential travel” to tackle a supermarket shop. Innocently wandering up to the entrance with our trolley we saw a few people strong out along the front of the store, so tried to find the end of the queue, walked around the next corner, and the next!

Thank goodness for never ending sunny days – imagine doing this in the pouring rain?

OK it was British queuing at its weirdest with everyone leaving massive 3 metre gaps between each other and glancing around nervously. When we finally got to the entrance we were told only one person per trolley, so off I scuttled back to Truff while Mrs A negotiated the one way system around the store.

More queues inside the store for each of the vegetable aisles

We were relieved to get home with our plunder, having managed to get most things we needed, even toilet rolls. Just as we pulled up, Jenny our landlady and saviour was delivering some fresh produce from the local farm shop. The day before the lovely folk at Wines Direct had managed to get 18 bottles delivered. They aren’t the cheapest at £10 a bottle, but wine beggars can’t be choosers. The supermarkets have bugger all left.

So things were really looking up! We have a full fridge and freezer and some wines to wash our home cooked dinners down with. We are loving catching up with everyone on FaceTime, and this morning had our first experience with Zoom. What a great success that was, thanks to Australian friends who had set up the meeting for us. He is in the data centre training business and now moved his training courses to the Zoom delivery platform. One of the participants had a birthday, so what a great way to share the moment in our physical isolation. We just have to make the best of what we can do. The time difference between here and Australia meant they were tucked into the champers and we were in bed supping our first pot of herbal tea of the day! We are going to have to arrange the next gathering in our evening…

We headed out for another walk, determined to explore this stunning area while we are in it. We meandered along footpaths covered in carpets of wild flowers, the wind blew but the sun shone once again, and we felt privileged to be here.

Following our noses and instincts as we spot signed footpaths and explore
The sheep are our main companions, and a long way away
Exploring along a track marked on the OS map which used to lead to a grand mansion, long gone now
A dead tree lit up by the sunlight like an ornate sculpture in the field
Cheerful daffodils line every lane

We met a few locals outside their houses and said ”hi”, but not one other walker, so we didn’t feel we were breaking any UK government guidelines. We had walked from our front door and not got within two metres of another person, and no doubt boosted our immune system with the fresh air, sunshine and exercise.

Our local village is bright with the first tulips, cherry blossom, clematis and woodland forget-me-nots
Our local pub, tantalisingly close yet closed

Mid afternoon and we headed back to start dinner prep. It’s Saturday night and a chicken curry was on the menu. It feels lovely to have our own big kitchen to wander around in, then a comfy lounge to retire to. We could get used to this. Connected plumbing, hot water on demand, space to spread out in. We have been living in our caravan and motorhome now on and off for three years. Admittedly with time in friends houses, and our house sit at Christmas, but the latter was made so uncomfortable with the smoke and the heat. We are absolutely loving sleeping through the cold nights snuggled up. We only have to hope that our friends and family stay well and we will get through this.

Another fine sunset to end the day

15-23 March: Modifying Truffy, getting evicted and finding a new home

Author: Mr A

Location: Doncaster (Yorkshire), Harby (Nottinghamshire), Kettering (Northamptonshire), Brighton (East Sussex), West Bagborough (Somerset), UK

In my dotage, which is looming ever closer, I hope to be able to say that we, and all those we hold dear, survived these scary times, came out the other end having learned new things about what’s important to us and the planet we call home.

It has been a roller coaster week of intense highs and lows. It started with me heading north to Doncaster for a couple of days to get some major modifications to Truffy. We had decided to get a levelling system fitted as every time we set up camp we have to drive him up on massive ramps. Not always in good weather, and not always leading to good marital relations as Catherine tries to direct me up the various levels without driving over the top of them. Yes I did that once. So we now have four hydraulic legs that lower down with the press of a button and get the Truff all nicely level.

To be frank, Doncaster isn’t somewhere I’m going to be rushing back to, but I did discover an awesome cycle route just outside of town that none of the web sites I searched even mentioned.

The Trans Penine Trail, running coast to coast is one of the great cycling infrastructure assets of the UK with over 200 miles of signed path on mostly dedicated cycle way or quiet roads. What a fabulous opportunity to “socially distance” myself and ride its quiet paths.

The Trans Pennine Trail
A beautiful spring day to be out cycling
The Stainforth and Keadby canal – connects the River Donn and River Trent

I would prefer the term “physically distance” ourselves as being more precise. We need to continue to socialise, to support each other and keep ourselves mentally healthy, just not by physical socialising.

I then rejoined Catherine in my old home town stomping ground of Kettering, and once again experienced the generosity and thoughtfulness of our friends, with whom we had a cracking evening filled with gin, red wine, Indian takeaway and much laughter, then a hangover breakfast and a escorted shopping trip to try and stock up an empty Truffy larder.

Cheers! Lots of laughs…

We had booked on to a campsite in Brighton for a week. By now we had accepted that camp sites were likely to close and we would have to find a rental place. That proved harder than we thought with landlords returning to their holiday homes, and press articles appearing from rural communities saying they didn’t want incoming travellers escaping the cities and overloading their health services. Fair enough, but where were people like us with their homes rented out going to go? Some friends near Lincoln had offered co-habitation in their fabulous place, but we didn’t know how long this would have to be for so felt we really needed our own front door and not have to impose on friends in their sanctuary.

Brighton Pier only available for careful takeaway
Blue skies hide the chilly north-easterly wind that was blowing

Catherine managed a couple of brief catch ups with her sister and family, and also a friend from Sydney who had travelled over for her mum’s 100th birthday, only to be told on landing that the care home she was in had just been placed on lockdown.

Catherine and Wendy maintaining distance while catching up on news

There are so many stories like this around the world are making this a hugely stressful time as we try and adjust our lives and expectations.

Sisters can’t be torn apart
A couple of elves in the park

Then on the second day into our week‘s booking we were told we had to vacate the camp as they were closing, with immediate effect. We were stunned. We had nowhere to go. There had been some bad press about people streaming down to the coast to caravan parks and I think the government put pressure on the parks to close. But with zero notice we were in a difficult position.

After some calling around we found another site that was still open, booked that and were ready to head off when they rang and said they had changed their mind. Then we found another that was still open. We called in on Catherine‘s mum in Hastings, to pick up some parcels and deliver Mother’s Day flowers and card. These were passed across the threshold of her door, no hugs or kisses today. So hard for all of us. But we must behave responsibly.

It was a stressful night, made suddenly better by another kind gesture from friends who offered us a spot on the driveway of their new house. Power and water and electric hook up. We got up in the morning all ready to head to Essex.

The very much non-glamorous side of Truffy travels – heading out to the shower block in 2°C !

Then another offer came through from friends we made way back over 15 years ago in Sydney. They had a cottage available in Somerset. The property we were offered was a 16th century farmhouse set in an area of outstanding natural beauty in the Quantock Hills. We were both on the edge of tears with relief. Our own front door, in an area we had wanted to visit anyway.

Off we shot down some very quiet motorways and arrived as the late afternoon sun set over the hills. We sipped a gin, held hands, and gave thanks to the kindness of friends.