I have just been listening to The Archers and found out that Freddie is in prison.
I have stopped listening to The Archers, because it has been rubbish for ages. I have in any case become cross with the BBC, and don’t listen to them very much at the moment. This is because they are not nearly as balanced as I would like them to be, unless you consider being horrible about Jeremy Corbyn as cancelling out them being horrible about Donald Trump.
Also they do seem to come up with some dreadfully pretentious drivel. I had to switch off a programme the other day which was talking about the innate sensitivities to intolerance which were produced in the viewer by a piece of modern art. I couldn’t see the art, because it was radio, but it made me feel intolerant just when I thought about it. I am glad I don’t pay a licence fee.
I was pleased to hear about Freddie, it sounds like the best place for him. I shall look out for him when I start work, and when Elizabeth comes to visit I shall enlighten her about all the other rascally things that he has done that she doesn’t know about.
It was rather nice to get to the taxi rank and sit quietly to listen to the radio. I should have started writing this straight away, really, because it is going to be a short night tonight, but I seemed to have run out of energy.
We rushed home after work last night to shower, after which we loaded ourselves into the camper van and chugged off to sleep on our field next to the farm.
This was because Number One Son-In-Law was coming up today, and we wanted to get a good early start. The thing about sleeping at home is that we do not rush about when we wake up, and somehow it seems to take hours from the moment the alarm goes off until the first achievement of the day. This is because it is so very nice to be idle with coffee, it is hard to stop sitting in bed drinking it, even when we have got down to the gritty bits at the bottom of the cup.
Today was the day for demolishing their poor camper van before the man from the scrap yard comes to tow it away.
They have sensibly decided that they would like a smaller one. They are going to build this for themselves so that it is designed to be exactly what they want. They do not want a huge van like ours, because really they only want to spend weekends in it, and go to Being Fit competitions, and occasionally to work, and in any case they like to stay on campsites. They do not need a huge van to do any of this, and the National Park Authorities have become very disgruntled about its unlovely presence on our field, and so it had Got To Go.
We got there at about half past four in the morning, and so we were not already awake when he banged on the door at nine.
We made a strong coffee and steamed the gritty feeling out of our eyes. Number One Son-In-Law told us all about their adventures, and we told him all about ours, and then we had to make a start.
It was rather lovely to wake up in the field, and I think I would like to do it more often. The sun was shining, and there was a fresh wind, and everywhere smelled of clean grass and leaves.
Mark’s friend Monty turned up to help, because he does camper vans as well, and we thought that there would be some bits that he might use. He brought his dog, who charged about joyfully with ours, rolling over and over in the long grass and barking until everybody shouted at them to shut up.
Then we set to to empty everything that might possibly be useful out of the van.
There had been a rat in it at some time, so some things had gone a funny colour and had to be thrown away, but most of it was absolutely fine, and we took it all to bits.
I am a girl and therefore do not properly understand screwdrivers. I emptied the cupboards and wandered about vaguely making helpful noises. Then I made some sausage sandwiches for purposes of morale boosting, and afterwards moved the last of the stack of logs out from behind the van so that it can be towed away.
The logs are our winter fuel, and they are beautifully dry and light. I was very pleased indeed with them, we are going to have a warm house this year.
In the end there wasn’t very much that I could do to be useful, so I retreated to our camper van and dozed off for a bit. It was nice to snooze in the warm van, listening to them all being interested in camper vans outside.
Mark said that we needed a sign which said the field was an Old Age Travellers’ Campsite.
I expect that would make the National Park cross as well.
3 Comments
Well, now I’m a whole comment out of order, probably won’t ever catch up with right space, but just had to say what a great photo this is, really captures a bight morning on a camp site. Not that I’ve done that or been there for very many years, and ours was the tenting sort so waking up in the morning was never good after not really sleeping at all. A camper van is so luxurious in comparison. It’s the lovely outdoorsy-ness of the photo that I like, and the Lake Districty-ness of the field and hill with its drystone wall. Hey ho, couldn’t walk far now even if I did manage to be there again, so won’t think about it or I’ll feel sad. You are all very lucky to be living there xx
What a lovely thing to say. And don’t be sad. If ever you do get up here there are lots of Lake District lovely places that don’t need much walking, one or two or the loveliest tarns have even had wheelchair access tracks installed, all the way round. Don’t give up. It isn’t closed to anybody. It was a lovely day. My face is all pink from the wind and the sun. x
Hello! Now of course I am remembering the last time. It was maybe five years ago when Chris, Harriett and I, plus Eris, booked a cottage in Borrowdale, just by Grange bridge. I did manage to walk with them through the woods and along the river to the pub at Rosthwaite and back – but mostly if they were all going up on the high fells they dropped me off for gentler stroll. Actually, just being by the Derwent was quite magical enough. As a family, we had rented the local vicar’s caravan in his garden near Rosthwaite for many years, when I could manage the big peaks even though much slower than anybody else. Wonderful times . . . feeling very nostalgic indeed now. xx