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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
