The Nostalgic Spring Sojourn | Part 9

Alison served up another lovely cooked breakfast Tuesday morning, satisfying my belly if not the nurse that keeps an eye on my cholesterol. We said our goodbyes to Adam & Jamie as they departed for what turned out to be a horrendously delayed journey back to Kent.

We’d a few things we wanted to do with our remaining time at Ashridge Farm but the forecast was depressingly accurate and the rain arrived mid-morning and hung around until late afternoon. We did manage an outing mind but to nowhere more exciting than the retail park outside Biggleswade a few minutes drive up the road. I’m a fairly recent convert to electric toothbrushes and having picked one up at Wilko’s when in South Wales last year, I needed some more replacement heads.

Now, I don’t know what it is about shops like Wilko but I either tend to come out with nothing or a basketful of stuff that a I didn’t realise I needed – and in truth probably didn’t. This was one of those occasions. Having located said replacement heads, more apparently essential bits and bobs made it’s way into the basket. By the looks of things, the same thing happened to Alison.

A lazy afternoon in Patsy followed and then later, as the rain cleared and the sun returned, I made the short drive cross country to finally catch up with Lyn & Richie at the English Caravan Company. We’d been friends on social media for ages and Trev and I had always wanted to come and say hello but for whatever reason it never happened. I was determined to put that right this time and it was fantastic to finally meet up in person. For those that don’t know Lyn & Richie design and build caravans, making them in their workshop from scratch. They also renovate and refurbish old caravans and there was an Alpine Sprite in the workshop with it’s innards removed as the slow process of restoring her began. Well, we had a really lovely chin-wag and they very kindly fed me too, with delicious jacket potatoes that had been cooking on the wood burner, with all the trimmings. Being a country boy myself I knew that it wasn’t always as tranquil as you might think in these parts but I enjoyed Lyn & Richie's tales of the carrying’s on they’ve seen and heard which, funnily enough, often coincided with the arrival of our travelling friends in the village and nearby. From hare coursing to vanishing lead from the church roof and more – as relative newcomers to life outside a city think it quite surprised them. A thoroughly enjoyable afternoon and I’m so glad we finally got to meet up. Again, the joy of social media is that we felt like we knew each other already.

Back at the site I had my second dinner of the day, Alison once again doing the honours. The cider, archers, beer and wine flowed and we probably overdid it a bit. Good fun though.

The forecast on Wednesday wasn’t too promising so we reckoned on a trip to the Imperial War Museum at Duxford would be ideal – mostly inside and we could dodge from hangar to hangar between showers. As it happened though the sun shone pretty much all day, but nevertheless we had a great time and the camera got plenty of use. I’d been a few times – particularly as a kid – but they’re constantly changing and expanding the collection and we didn’t get to see everything. You’ll need a day to do it all but it will be time well spent.

We had a rather odd encounter with a volunteer which had us giggling for a while after. He explained that the hanger behind us (there wasn’t one) was no longer there (ah!) because during the filming of The Battle of Britain they’d accidentally blown it up (got it). He laboured the point clearly thinking that we we having a bit of trouble grasping the fact, then went off on a tangent talking about my camera – and then his. You had to be there but it was amusing.

That night we tried one of the other pubs in the village – The Rose & Crown – and this was every bit as enjoyable as our meal at The Three Tuns two nights ago. There was even a black beer on offer – how very thoughtful of them!

On Thursday afternoon we headed into Cambridge, utilising the Park & Ride at Trumpington. This was a first me for me too and I nearly got us on the wrong bus – thankfully someone kindly put us right. We had a good wander around, through the Market Square and down Rose Crescent, stopping for coffee in Trinity Street, just along from the impressive Trinity Great Gate. I will never tire of visiting my home town and I’m still very proud of it though my tourist guide skills were no match for Trev’s – demonstrated so well when he took us around during a Twittercamp meet in 2016.

Suitably recharged we headed up Magdalene Street and across the River Cam, looking at the punts below and remembering our time in one back at the same meet. It looked as cold now as we found it then.

We crossed back over the Cam again at Jesus Green and made our way back into the City via Park Street before catching the bus back to the Park & Ride site.

We didn’t go back to the site but headed east to meet with a friend of mine for dinner at a pub on the other side of the city. The White Hart in Fulbourn is popular because of it’s food – Trev and I have been a few times in the past – and once again it didn’t disappoint.

Friday was my last full day on site – and the last of the trip – and I kept up with tradition of giving the old girl – Patsy that is – a bit of a clean up whilst packing stuff for the trip home. One of the less desirable features of blown air heating is the dust it circulates, though sadly, whichever way I look at it, I can’t blame it for the cobwebs. A certain someone would not have been amused!

That night I welcomed Alison to Patsy for dinner.. Fortunately she brought a slow cooker full of Chilli con Carne with her and all I had to do was the rice which I just managed not to bugger up. It all went down very well indeed – with a beer or two of course but with another tidy tow in the morning I wanted a reasonably clear head – as clear as mine ever gets anyway!

Saturday and time to go. I was ready in good time once again and well inside my admittedly generous target. Alison was up and about too and I stopped to say goodbye on the way out. It had been another great stay, made all the better with the company of friends. We parted in the knowledge that we would be meeting again at the end of May.

The 130 miles or so back to the south coast was trouble free and after a thirsty start Rosie had eventually managed 28 mpg by the time I’d pulled into the storage yard. The journey gave me time to reflect on the trip as a whole and without doubt it has been the best yet as a solo – and single – caravanner. I’ve revisited some great places. Stirred some happy memories and made a few new ones too. It wouldn’t have been half as enjoyable however had I not been able to meet up with so many friends whilst away – it made so much difference and kept the inevitable pangs of loneliness at bay. So, at the risk of this turning into some snivelling awards acceptance speech I want to say thanks to everyone that played a part in the Nostalgic Spring Sojourn and made it the success I had hoped for. In no particular order: Angela, Marc, Ken, Richard, Diane, Sandra, David, Gary, Mike, Jen, Peter, Pam, Alison, Adam, Jamie, Lyn, Richie and Pauline – Thank you – you’re awesome.

Right, until next time. Thanks as always for reading. I do appreciate it and your lovely comments too.

Cheers

Rich

The Nostalgic Spring Sojourn | Part 8

It had been a while but the wave came again Friday night – I’d felt a bit unsettled all afternoon and decided, following dinner, that a walk to the pub for a couple might help. It didn’t, that intense feeling of loneliness was hovering around so I went back to Patsy and stuck some music on. You’ll know the rest.

Saturday was my last full day at Kilnsea and I was feeling perkier after a half decent nights sleep. This was very much an ‘at the ‘van’ day and it might come as shock to you but I didn’t even venture to the pub for a couple of lunchtime pints as mooted. Since the start of the trip I’d been cleaning Patsy’s exterior with Triplewax Waterless Wash & Shine – an excellent recommendation from Dan Trudgian last summer - and finally completed that in the morning, except the back that is – that’s going to need lots of water. The old girl still don’t scrub up too bad though, bless her. I wrote a blog post, had a play with the new Wi-Fi gear from Solwise and started preparations for my departure on Sunday. With one hundred and eighty or so miles ahead and loosing an hour thanks to the clocks changing I wanted as little to do in the morning as possible.

My plan, such as it was, worked and I was pulling out of the gate at 0940 – in real terms 0840 of course – and that was probably as good as I could have hoped for. I needn’t have worried about disturbing anyone though as everyone seemed to be up an about. I noticed that my routine was being watched by a couple of fellas, standing just far enough away so as not to be within speaking distance, or ‘offering help distance’ as I thought somewhat cynically - and trying – and failing – not to look as if they were looking. Clearly I looked like I was managing just fine on my own – which in truth I was. My routine has gotten much more organised over time but still needs fine tuning.

My destination was the Ashridge Farm Caravan & Motorhome Club Site in the village of Ashwell in Hertfordshire and as expected it took nearly four hours in total, going through Hull and across the Humber Bridge, joining the A1 near Newark. I stopped just once for a quick leak and in all honesty felt fine, Pepsi Max providing the necessary caffeine boost. Rosie clearly found it thirsty work too, managing barely 25mpg, although to be fair to her it was windier than I expected and I did get my foot down a bit harder when circumstances allowed.

The club’s instructions were very clear – approach only via the A505 and I sensed the nice lady from Google Maps getting cross with me as I ignored her instructions three times to take cross country routes from the A1. Eventually she worked out what I was doing.

It was here that I was supposed to be meeting my cousin Andy & Janet – but poor Jan had taken a tumble in the week and, although thankfully had not broken anything, could hardly move and was in considerable pain, so they’d regretfully had to cancel. However some friends were already on site, although sadly not present to see yet another slick motor mover free reversing manoeuvre from yours truly. My neighbour to be was though, although he was doing his best not to look as if he was looking..

Now, this is the part of the trip where the title becomes slightly inaccurate – I’d never been to this site before, however it is a case of third time lucky. We were booked on here during our winter trip in the December of 2017, then Trev’s Mum died and we had to bypass it, going straight to Cambridge. Last year it was to be our final stop off on the way home after our summer trip – and you know what happened then.

I’d just about finished setting up when my friends Alison, her son Adam & partner Jamie returned from an expedition to get something for dinner. An earlier incursion to the village to book a table had proved unsuccessful, it being Mothers Day. Suddenly I too realised I needed the shops because if we were staying in I need something to drink – sorry, research samples - so off I went, this time listening to the nice lady from Google Maps. It was soon clear why the club had said not to tow through the village as it wouldn’t have been much fun with Patsy on the back.

Anyway, dinner – cooked by Adam – was lovely and we had a good chin-wag over an ale or three too. It was nice once again to be among the company of friends.

Monday and the weatherman was true to his word as the sun was making it’s presence felt after a chilly night. Alison did the honours with a very welcome cooked brekky then, later we headed out in Adam’s car for a look around this little part of the country, the first stop being in Saffron Walden, a lovely little market town just over the border in Essex. Always worth a visit and after a stroll around coffee was taken outside in the glorious sunshine. It really was a cracking day.

Next up was back in Hertfordshire and Royston. Pleasant enough but I don’t think any of us were particularly inspired, it did however provide an opportunity for some cut-price research in the shape of the local Wetherspoons, alongside some tasty nibbles.

Last stop of the day was Letchworth – the UK’s and World’s first ever Garden City and apparently the location for the UK’s first roundabout too. You may recall we stopped in Welwyn Garden City in December 2017 so I was keen to compare. Time was marching on so we didn’t have long but there were certainly similarities with the wide open airy spaces. A traditional sweetshop in one of the arcades grabbed our attention and was the recipient of some custom too.

That evening we walked - yes, walked – into the village and to the pub that had been fully booked the day before – The Three Tuns – for the Last Supper, as Adam & Jamie would be departing in the morning. It was worth the 24 hour wait as the food was excellent and afterwards we adjourned to then lounge and slumped into some comfy chairs well and truly stuffed. Not exactly a traditional boozer – very much geared for food as many have to be now – but they  kept some nice real ales, a couple of which I’d not sampled. That was soon put right.

London February 2019 - Part 4

And here it is, the fourth and, I promise you, the last blog post about my recent caravanning trip to London, staying at the Caravan & Motorhome Club site at Crystal Palace.

Right, Thursday and with the second of my visits to the theatre on the agenda for later I wasn’t rushing about to get going, enjoying a leisurely morning involving not much more than a book and coffee at various intervals. The sun was out and another lovely day forecast. I may have nodded off. More than once.

The days expedition began after lunch, once again on the trusty number 3 bus as far as Brixton, changing to the number 159. That was after a short interval during which I’d boarded the 59, only discovering my mistake when the nice lady in the cupboard under the stairs announced the bus’ route. Numpty.

My destination was an area known as Lincoln's Inn, populated as you may well know, by London’s legal eagles, much like Temple to the south which, you may recall, I had a wander around with friends during my October visit.

Like Temple it is an oasis of calm and relative tranquillity and seemingly a very agreeable place to work. Lincoln’s Inn Fields was still well occupied with those enjoying a late lunch in the sunshine but it was much quieter in the gardens.

I’d had thoughts of making it as far as Clerkenwell for a look around but the aforementioned part of my anatomy that shall now remain nameless was having other ideas. I did get as far as Hatton Gardens though – where in truth there isn’t much to see – and traversed Leather Lane too. Well it had to be done…

Then followed the first tube ride of the trip – a short hop from Chancery Lane to Oxford Circus and a thence a wander around Carnaby Street. It’s changed a lot since my first visit some twenty years ago when I was looking for my first long leather coat – no such garment can be found here now, it’s all brands and designer labels so the plastic stayed firmly in the pocket. At least until I came across the Old Coffee House, in Beak Street. One of those great little back street boozers that I love so much that hasn’t been mauled at the hands of greedy pub co’s and still retains some authenticity. A good range of local ales but trying them all and making it to the theatre would have been a er, challenge. I settled for one. Oh, alright then, two.

Whilst trying new places can be fun, sometimes I like just going with what I know, so it was the White Horse that I returned too for my pre-theatre meal and was even lucky enough to get a table by the window. Aware that variety is indeed the spice of life I opted for a chicken burger rather than another beef burger. It was a good though.

The theatre was a little walk away so I took my time, brandishing the DSLR on the way. Results were mixed, many of the resulting photo’s being too blurry, but one or two came out OK.

The show – as many of you will know, was Mamma Mia, at the Novello Theatre and it was every bit as good as I hoped, a thoroughly enjoyable and uplifting evening marred only slightly by a foursome a couple of rows in front who shrieked their way through the songs and stage whispered their way through the dialogue. Several audience members spoke to them at the interval along with a member of staff and they did quieten down in the second half. Two of them beat a hasty retreat soon after never to re-appear. Given the obvious difficulty in putting one foot in front of the other, combined with a prevailing air of urgency, my money was on an impending psychedelic yodel in the toilets.

Unusually, there was no desire for a post show pint but I took the opportunity during a rather long walk to the bus to grab some more photos, I’m no photographer, straying rarely from the ‘Auto’ setting, but was quite pleased with the results.

Seemingly every bus in the TFL fleet went past before the one I wanted eventually appeared which had my pondering the decision not to use the loo before I left the theatre and whether I’m at the time of life when Tena Man is worthy of investigation. It was packed but soon thinned out and was nearly empty by the time I hopped off near Brixton and renewed my acquaintance with the number 3 for the journey back to the site and the welcoming outline of Patsy.

Friday, and my last full day. I spent the morning packing up as much as possible as I wanted to make an early getaway in the morning to avoid the likely traffic on the Purley Way.

It was a funny morning in truth. For the first time in the caravan since the early days I was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of loneliness. I couldn’t understand at the time, thinking that feelings like these generally recede as time passes, but then it occurred that up to this point the trip had been entirely on my own. Every other trip I’d taken since Trev’s passing had involved meeting up with friends and family. It eventually passed but was to return later.

After lunch I met up with some friends from Brighton at Victoria for a very enjoyable afternoon er, sightseeing with just a pub or two on the way, purely for medicinal purposes obviously. The ultimate reason for the expedition – QPR v Watford failed to hold my attention as the sadness returned and I did several times contemplate leaving early but of course, as always it passed.

Back in Patsy my stomach was thinking my throat had been cut so I prepared a large plate of cheese, cooked meats and biscuits, accompanied – quite sensibly for me, by a glass of water rather than the last remaining beer in the fridge. I’d already had quite enough and didn’t wanted to put my intended early departure at risk.

Well, as per usual I was late leaving the site Saturday though this time I had an excuse. Let’s just say it was wise that I’d emptied the toilet cassette the day before and was thankful there was plenty of room in it. I did the rest of the packing up, never straying too far until things had er, settled down and I could get hitched up and start the journey home.

So, there we are, another trip done and dusted. I do love London, there is so much to see and do and it needn't cost an arm and a leg either. I’m booked in again for October, making the most of the site while it’s still open. It will close in December unless another extension is agreed by the local council.

Right, thanks as always for reading. Not long know until my next trip, heading back to some sites that Trev and I enjoyed so much, and a new one too.

Until then,

Cheers

Rich

London February 2019 - Part 3

OK, here we go again. I realise I’m rather behind with these – my upcoming trip is now closer than the last one but I’m afraid life keeps getting in the way – and the fact that I’m still pretty disorganised at times. Anyway, here we go.

Another bright morning greeted me as I opened the blinds somewhat later than usual having enjoyed a nice lie-in. In truth it was not that late but it’s all relative and when you’re used to getting up at silly o’clock anything beyond sunrise is a bonus.

I went through the usual breakfast routine which, almost invariably, involves silencing the smoke alarm, then went out to check the water and waste. The chap from the motorhome opposite came over and said hello and after the usual pleasantries he mentioned that I’d left Rosie’s boot lid up when I went out yesterday. He didn’t call her Rosie, obviously, but you know what I mean, and when it started to become dark and it was clear that I wasn’t about, he went over and shut it. I thanked him profusely and thought that in a world that seems overflowing with nastiness and hatred, there are still decent people about. More than perhaps it seems. Anyway, having established that nothing had taken up residence in her I turned the key to make sure the battery was OK.

Unenthusiastic is probably the best way of describing the battery’s response but grudgingly Rosie came to life and I left her running for a few minutes to replenish some volts.

My assignation with the Rough Guide had resulted in a cunning plan which would give me plenty of opportunity to lens click while taking care of my knee and late morning I set off, back on the number 3 bus again, destination Lambeth Palace. What a wise decision that turned out to be.

At some point in the journey north – probably around Brixton, the nice lady that sits in the cupboard under the stairs and does the announcements declared that the final destination had changed and the service would now be terminating at Lambeth Bridge – the exact stopped I had planned to get off. No reason was given and yes I could have probably found out on the TFL website but it didn’t really matter. My money was on some protest around Westminster at a guess.

Anyway, by the time we got there it could – with a little generosity of spirit – be considered lunchtime so I sat in the little garden on the corner and wolfed down some sarnies and a cup of coffee before commencing my walk along the South Bank.

I had no idea how far I would – or could – go but considered that if and when my knee became uncooperative I could turn off at one of the many bridges crossing the Thames and hop on a bus.

It really was a very pleasant day as you can see from the photo’s – and side from the area around the London Eye, not very busy at all. Across the water was the Houses of Parliament, the tower housing Big Ben shrouded in scaffolding, Somerset House, and in the distance St Paul's cathedral and the City.

On my side I passed the memorial to the Special Operations Executive, the back of the famous old St Thomas’ hospital and the London Dungeon and London Eye, pausing to remember the last time we were here – three years ago – and how much busier it was back then. There were plenty taking their lunch outside, making the most of the sun in the nearby Jubilee Gardens.

I paused again in the area just ahead of Bernie Spain Gardens for a another coffee and to take in the views of the city before proceeding on past the Oxo tower and on to the Tate Modern, once again grabbing a picture of St Paul's from the Millennium Bridge. I contemplated checking out the gallery but time was clearly running out on the knee so decided to carry on, and anyway, it was too nice a day to be inside.

Further along I came across Shakespeare's Globe Theatre though to be honest it was the adjacent Swan that was pique my interest. With an unusual display of willpower I resisted and pressed on passing, next under Southwark Bridge, thinking it was very nearly time to bail out and get a bus.

Remember what I said about it being too nice to be inside? Well, ignore that because next up was The Clink Prison Museum, something I must confess I’d never heard of. At seven pounds fifty it was pretty reasonable as London attractions go so I thought I’d give it a try.

Said to be one of the oldest prisons in England it gives you a glimpse into London’s grisly past with gruesome artefacts from back in the day and displays and narrated tales of torment. Fascinating stuff but it’s not that big and would probably take up no more than an hour of your time.

Beyond the museum was a replica of the Golden Hinde, Francis Drake’s famous ship, sadly rather obscured by scaffolding, however the adjacent Old Thameside Inn wasn’t and I decided it was time for some medicine.

With said medicine duly consumed – a nice warming winter ale by the way – I briefly contemplated continuing, maybe as far as Tower Bridge but then decided to call it a day, passing Southwark Cathedral and taking in the mouth watering smells of Borough Market on the way to the bus that would take me to Brixton, swapping to the number 3 again for the journey back to the site.

Patsy was still basking in some sunshine and so was warm and cosy when I got back and, having had dinner – a portion of pre-prepared chilli, and rice - I pondered a walk up to the triangle for a pint or two, but in truth was happy to stay put. My knee had done enough and having changed into scruffs on my return I really couldn’t be arsed to get tarted up again. A couple of glasses of Merlot along with some savoury nibbles proved a good substitute though.

And that’s it for Part 3. A little short on words this one but it seemed a sensible place to call a halt to proceedings but stand by for what is likely the final part coming at some point – hopefully sooner rather than later – in the future.

Thanks as always for reading

Rich.

P.S I can email you when a new blog is published if you like - just drop me an email to legsdown@outlook.com and I’ll add you to the list. It won’t be used for anything else and you can unsubscribe whenever you like.

London February 2019 - Part 2

Right, here we go again. Better late than never? I’ll let you be the judge of that, written, as most of this was, in my head on the school bus home run the other night. A dangerous place – inside my head that is, not on the minibus – mostly anyway.

So, Tuesday and with the first of two visits to the theatre planned for the evening I wasn’t rushing to get going, not least because, as I had been painfully reminded the day before, walking time is somewhat limited thanks to my knee. I know I keep going on about it but it did affect my trip somewhat, however at the time of typing I’ve had my first session of physio so hopefully there will be an improvement soon.

It was a lovely morning so I pottered about, doing the usual caravan jobs – top up the water and empty the waste and loo. In addition there was another task I needed to complete as well. You may recall that in the October trip the pull out canopy was removed with help – thanks Adam – and I’ve been meaning to replace the awning rail protector strip – which obviously now had a large gap ever since, a new reel having languished in the front locker since November.

Firstly however I had to remove the remaining stopper, which again involved prising the awning rail gently apart a little, then gently tapping back with a hammer after. It’s not something I’d do on a new ‘van and it’s not a perfect finish but then at the age of 11 Patsy does have several other marks of er, character about her bodywork and one more won’t make any difference.

It was then I remembered that I’d put away the towing jacket, soaking wet, in the back of the car so, took it’s two halves out for a good shake before loose folding and laying back on the parcel shelf, figuring a couple of hours in the fresh air would dry it off.

With no specific plans for food later I made lunch – OK warmed something up – before heading off, not for the number 3 bus but to the Overground Railway station on the southern side of the park, my eventual destination being Hampstead after swapping lines at Highbury & Islington station.

Hampstead High Street was pleasant enough, sloping gently uphill but suffering, as so many places do, with far too much traffic. At least this time, however there wasn’t a certain red Honda adding to it.

I mooched about a bit, not really enthused then headed for my next port of call which was Hampstead Heath, the lure being nothing more exciting than the promise of a good view of the city from Parliament Hill. The walk to was pleasant, taking in a number of pretty back streets and by one of the entrances to the heath I came across a National Trust sign at the entrance to a property proclaimed to be 2 Willow Road.

The property, designed by one Erno Goldfinger was subject to some controversy, not least because local residents at the time considered it ugly. One of those was a chap by the name of Ian Fleming, him of James Bond fame. It is said that Fleming named one of his villains after the aforementioned Mr Goldfinger in revenge. Not the most attractive property as you can see:

The rest of the walk to, and the view from, Parliament Hill certainly didn’t disappoint and was impressive even though it had clouded over. I found a vacant bench and paused for a moment. There is – apparently – plenty of activity on the heath where throbbing plays a part but in my case it was only the knee. I took in the view, the fresh air and the occasional whiff of marijuana from those occupying a nearby bench.

The plan, when I set out, was to head down the other side of the hill for a meander around Highgate. We did the famous Cemetery on the 2013 trip, but the village was apparently worth a wander. It would have to wait though – had I been more enthusiastic I might have made the effort but with the knee aching and the light fading early thanks to the moody looking skies, I decided to make my way back into town, my saviour being the number 24 bus just a short walk away.

A short walk brought me to the Lyric pub, just around the corner from my eventual destination; The Lyric Theatre. It came recommended by CAMRA’s Whatpub.com as a ‘real’ pub likely to be occupied by locals rather than just tourists and so it proved, with a wide range of local beers and and a window seat to people watch it proved to be a very amenable port of call for an hour or so.

Another wander brought me to The White Horse on the corner of Archer Street and thoughts turned from grog to grub as I glanced at the menu. As is often the case here the dining room was on the first floor and proved to be a real oasis of calm away from the hustle and bustle of the rush hour trade below. Whilst waiting for my meal I got talking to a couple from the Midlands who were enjoying the first stay in London, Les Miserables being the main reason for their visit. At first they thought I was in one of the shows, assuming it seemed, that no-one dresses like I do because they want to. However we had a very pleasant chin-wag – and a very reasonably priced meal too. A main course of a tidy burger and chips, a dessert of sticky toffee pudding and a coffee – yes coffee – all for less than seventeen quid in Theatre land. I thought that was pretty good going.

Right, the show in question was Thriller Live!, now in it’s 10^th year in the West End. I’d picked it, not least because I like a lot of old wacko Jacko’s stuff but also because it filled my seat/price criteria. When it comes to shows, I’m not that fussed what I see but I have a price limit and and I want a half-decent seat for that price and the view from the first row of the balcony on one side was great. As for the show itself, well it didn’t really hit the spot if I’m honest. The lighting was good, the band were superb as were most of the performers but it just didn’t quite do it for me. There was no story built around the songs so it had a tribute act feel about it. Even the title song failed to ignite my enthusiasm. Good but not great was my conclusion and I didn’t come away with that lovely buzz as is so often the case.

The Admiralty on the south eastern corner of Trafalgar Square was handily placed to empty the bladder – and yes, refill again. Well it would be rude not to.

The number 3 starts it’s journey at the bus stop opposite but the departure board suggested a lengthy wait – lengthy that is on a chilly night when you’ve had a few. Fortunately though it appeared to be a work of fiction as the bus appeared not two minutes later.

It’s fair to say that I was in a bit of hurry to get in and pay a visit on returning to Patsy but risked an accident by diverting a few feet to check the car – you see I had no recollection of shutting or locking it before leaving earlier and whilst the boot lid was down it was still unlocked. All seemed to be present and correct though.

It had seemed sensible to turn the heating right down earlier with Patsy basking in sunshine, bit I was regretting it now, as well as not bothering to make up the bed prior, with both the duvet and pillows feeling like they’d been residing in a fridge.

Never mind though, it had been another good day overall and I was already flipping through the Rough Guide deciding what to do the following day as the duvet thawed, but for that you’ll have to wait for part 3. Yep, I’m afraid there’s more – much more - to come!

Cheers

Rich

A Sussex Snapshot | Ditchling Beacon

Ok, so this a caravanning blog and I’m not away in the ‘van but this may be of interest to those staying at the Brighton Caravan & Motorhome Club site as it’s only around 10 miles away and can even be reached by bus when the timetable allows.

Ditchling Beacon  - part of the Sussex Downs is the third highest point in Sussex at 248 metres above sea level and offers terrific views, particularly to the north. The area is under the stewardship of the National Trust who manage the small car park too. Check out their web page HERE.

It’s part of the South Downs way so you’ll see plenty of suitably attired walkers be-sticked and marching purposefully. The road up from Ditchling village to the north is narrow and in places extremely steep - ranging from 9% to 16%. It features in a lot of London to Brighton charity bike rides and is a real test of even the fittest legs.

A bus runs from Brighton’s Old Steine - currently only weekends and public holidays but the summer timetable is due out in April. There’s a very helpful leaflet HERE.