Despite it not being very long since we came back from the Isle of Skye, Mel and I decided to head out for a long weekend. We knew we wouldn’t be going away during August as neither of us (but me in particular) can cope with being on a site with lots of noisy kids.
We opted for somewhere close by and because we are in training to walk the Dales Way next May, we needed somewhere we could enjoy a good walk. So, we opted to go to the New Forest for 3 nights.
As ever, we had left it late to book and yet again, I ponder why neither of us can get to grips with the knowledge that since the pandemic, the public still insist on taking their breaks in the UK instead of flying to warmer countries. I call it selfish. Add to that, the recent insane rises in electricity and we soon find out that sites have increased their prices – some as much as £5 per night. A combination of cost and vacancies led us to a small independent site in an aptly named village called ‘Nomansland’. Perfect for us so I booked it.
The weather the week we went was hot, hot, and hot so there was little need to pack our bulky duvet or winter clothes, so packing was relatively painless. Having said that, Mel did still packed enough food to feed the 5000. We left on time (unusual) and I didn’t stress (even more unusual) and despite temperatures of nearly 30 degrees, we were in high spirits.
Even with a traffic jam on the M3 at Winchester, the journey only took an hour and a half before we entered the beautiful place that is the New Forest. Almost immediately, we started to play the ‘whoever spots the first pony wins’ competition, but were rather surprised when the first animals we came across were pigs standing in the road! We still aren’t sure if they were escaped domestic pigs or wild boar but from that point onwards, the game went in another direction as we scoured the scenery for other strange creatures.
I pootle along at a steady 35 miles an hour through the forest lanes, over cattle grids, along narrow roads and long corners. Mel then starts the annoying part of every journey where she suggests I slow down in case we run over a pony (or wild boar, or ox, or other strange creature). It doesn’t matter where we are in the world or where we are going, at some point, Mel will advise me to slow down in case I hit something. Now, I can hear you saying that it was probably wise and caring advice, but when I hear the words, I hear it as a criticism of my driving and my inner Cath says things to me like: ‘I have been driving since I was 18 so I know how to drive’, or ‘if you don’t like my driving, why don’t you try it’ or, ‘I have seen the bloody speed limit signs and I am going 5mph under it’. But I don’t say any of these things and instead smile through gritted teeth knowing that I am hot and tired.
We sail past the site on the first attempt as the sign is not obvious but after a bit of excellent reversing (in my opinion), we pull into the site. It is another of those where you wonder what you have let yourself in for as it is basically a strip of grass – none of which is flat. We smile at each other and don’t say what we are thinking, and I call the owner as directed. He sounded pleasant and advised us which pitch to use.
Readers of previous blogs will understand that arriving on site and setting up is the part I find most stressful, and it is the same today. It is impossible to get Ethel level and Mel directs me on and off the pitch until I am fed up with the whole thing and begin to wonder why we can’t stay on a normal site. In the end we must use chocks to get her level and I am allowed to turn the engine off. We have connect to the electricity, put the steering lock on and complete many other of the essentials that have to be done on arrival, and then Mel realises that the loo door is stuck. What follows is a bit like a comedy act but by now both of us are not feeling amused. We decide it’s because we aren’t level, so I take the steering lock off and reverse off the pitch, door wont open, drive back on the pitch, door wont open, turn around, door wont open, try to force the door. It won’t open. Mel is now more stressed than me.
Those who know us, assume Mel doesn’t get stressed, as she is such an outwardly calm person but believe me she does. However, whereas I am very obviously stressed, Mel slowly simmers and doesn’t show it. I know its there though, as she gets short with her words towards me and she becomes very ‘busy’, I knew we were at that place and had to do something before a row started.
In the end I did something I hate doing. I played the feeble and delicate woman and asked the man putting his awning up for his help. This hurt as I am a strong, independent woman!!! However, I smiled inside when he couldn’t open it either.
Eventually though, I saved the day. I grabbed some long-nosed pliers which were in the tool box Mel had sensibly stashed under the passenger seat and I managed to twist the little knob. We were in! it transpired that the shower hose had fallen down and was preventing the opening mechanism. Simples!
My stress slowly ebbs away though as I drink the first cup of tea of the holiday.
Our exploration of the site takes precisely 7 minutes as it is so small, and we can see most of it from Ethel and what we discover isn’t too painful. There is only one shower (bad) but it is so, so quiet on the site (good). We can’t get a satellite signal (bad) but we have remembered all the right kit to run Netflix off my laptop (good).
We settle down for the evening with a lovely glass of French cider and binge watch Homeland whilst planning our walk in the morning.
2LadiesTravelling 