Farewell my lovely Hymer

SADLY, this will be my last entry in this blog for the foreseeable future.

We have sold the Hymer to a lovely couple from Devon, and wish them many happy holidays in it.

Early in the summer we acquired a cottage and we have been spending so much time renovating it that we haven’t been able to use the motorhome. It was costing us money to store, tax and insure, so we reluctantly decided to part with it. We hope to resume our travels in a smaller van in a couple of years’ time.

On the road again

We're just back from a great week in East Anglia. Read all about it below. Scroll down to April 22 to start.

Thetford Forest, and a few of life's little mysteries

April 29, 2013

WE decide to halve the distance to our next scheduled stopping point, my brother-in-law’s house in Hertfordshire, by breaking our journey at Thetford Forest overnight.

The Waveney Farm Shop off the A413 proves a happy hunting ground, and we emerge with Gloucester Old Spot bacon for our breakfast.

Signs to Grimes Graves tempt us off track, and how glad we are. We discover it’s the site of a Neolithic flint mine, now cared for by English Heritage. We wander across a wonderfully peaceful landscape, pockmarked by filled-in mineshafts, with no sound other than the song of the skylark, then don hard hats and descend 30ft into the gloom of a large central pit, surprisingly untroubled by my usual claustrophobia.  Really interesting.

Next stop is Weeting, where we pull in at the nature reserve and are lucky enough to see two stone curlews sitting on nests scraped out of the rough ground.

By the way, does anyone know why, after you’ve gone over a level crossing, you often see a sign saying “Park here and use phone at crossing”? A bit late by then, isn’t it? What for, and why go backwards?

We stay on a very calm and neat Camping and Caravanning Club site near Wretham, with a network of woodland walks alongside. The air is full of birdsong, and the crowning glory is a nightingale singing right outside the van at dusk.

Our trip’s at an end, but our homeward journey throws up two of those questions that are destined to remain forever unanswered.

1)      Why was there a lone bagpiper standing in a field by the side of the A11, right in the middle of nowhere, shortly before the A1303 turn-off?

2)      2) Why does Hertfordshire dub itself ‘County of Opportunity’ on its signposts? Given the potholed state of the roads, it’s an opportunity to be shaken to bits, according to David.

A stray starling at Orford

April 28, 2013

AFTER a lazy morning we’re off to Orford, where a rose-coloured starling has been seen over the last few days.

Passing the Friday Street Farm Shop we decide to drop in for some supplies, and are very glad we did. Delicious russet apple juice, free range chicken and pork, and smoked chilli cheese are just some of the delights we bagged. Unfortunately we forgot to go back round to the veg aisle, limiting our options for tonight’s menu quite severely.

Again, it’s bright sunshine but freezing. Blackthorn is coming into blossom along the lanes as we head into Orford. There’s no trouble at all locating the starling, which ought really to be in eastern Europe. Because as we approach the village there are a gaggle of men in camouflage jackets with massive cameras and telescopes on tripods, all trained on a suburban-looking garden.

The owner of the garden says he’s surprised the poor bird’s lasted this long, as he has two cats. But there it is, perching very obligingly on top of a TV aerial where even I can make out its distinguishing features.

The village, with its pretty redbrick cottages and its black shacks on the beach, is looking very springlike as long as you don’t venture out of the warm van into the bitter wind for more than a couple of seconds.

We park and buy ice cream – why?

Then we sit in the Hymer on the quay eating lunch, watching a cute little river cruise restaurant boat berthing right in front of us, and David points out the derelict atomic weapons research establishment across the water.

He also points out a refuge on stilts, built to protect National Trust nature reserve wardens in the event of flooding, which makes me wonder why you’d build an atomic research facility in a flood zone.

We head back to Aldeburgh, where David drops me for a little window-shopping while he has a nap in the car park. The town has a very attractive mix of quirky old buildings, and I drop in for a quick tour of the Thompson’s gallery, where I’d like to linger longer.

Another stop-off on the way back to our Lowestoft site, for a look at the substantial ruins of Leiston Abbey, which must have been hugely impressive in its medieval heyday but which I found a bit unnerving, for reasons unknown.

The world outside my window

Later that same day ………..

DOGGER, North Utsira, South Utsira .. as I sit sipping wine and gazing out over a flat calm evening sea with big ships on the horizon and little coloured lights blinking on and off in the distance, I know it’s all going on out there.

The thing I find quite strange about camp sites is that there are people parked quite close on either side of us, but we don’t know them and we might not even like them if we did. I can’t quite kid myself that I’m getting away from it all.

Also there seem to be rather a lot of orders to follow on this site, and too many health and safety posters warning us that we can slip on wet floors, or that the hot water from the hot tap is hot. There’s even a door code to the loo. The place is beautifully maintained, but there is such a thing as being too well-ordered.

Having said which, the position of this site takes some beating.

We’ve been tucking into some brilliant pork and apple burgers from Southwold farmers’ market, with spring onion crushed potatoes and what David calls asparagus and courgette surprise, stir-fried. I’ll have to get him to write down how he does all this.

Snape - a great place to shop

April 27, 2013

STRAIGHT off to Snape Maltings, where I expected to spend a couple of hours looking at art exhibitions but ended up whiling away half the day.

“Another retail opportunity” was how David summed it up.

It was bitterly cold outside, which helped persuade us to stay under cover. But how lucky a chance that was …

There was a huge and very high-class home and garden shop, and there were little shops attached to each art and craft exhibition, so a great deal of present-buying was done.

Plus there was a food shop with cake and wonderful cheeses, most of which disappeared immediately after we returned to the Hymer for coffee.

Outside, there were Hepworth and Moore sculptures to admire.

Sadly, given my interest in buildings, we didn’t see inside the auditorium, because of signs saying ‘Ticket holders only’. Maybe we should have pushed our luck and just wandered in.

“I’m all shopped out,” I groaned as we put down our bulging carrier bags on a seat in the Hymer.

“Then this is a truly jaw-dropping moment,” replied my long-suffering other half.

Fresh air was the only thing that would do. So we droved to Aldeburgh – one of us making a mental note to save the shops there for another day – and parked up by the absolutely lovely Maggi Hambling shell sculpture on the beach.

Impossible to resist climbing up to sit on it and survey the sea in front of me.

Thorpeness beckoned on the horizon, with the House in the Clouds and the Sizewell power station poking up above the trees, so we decided to walk there with Glen. Bracing is probably the word for it.

But by way of compensation there was a great white egret on the marsh just across the road.

How nice it is, too, in East Anglia to see fields full of free-range pigs, having fun as pigs are meant to. Piglets racing each other for the sheer joy of it. Why on earth does anything think it’s right to keep pigs in sheds?

We’d pre-booked a Caravan Club site at Lowestoft because I fancied a nice hot shower and a few home comforts. And we got there in time to bag a perfect pitch overlooking the beach.

We couldn’t help recalling our camp site at Tarifa, on our Spanish expedition this time last year.

Time for a gin and tonic … or two.

PS We thought we’d ask readers of this blog for their suggestions for the best birdwatching and seawatching sites, preferably with dog-walking close by.

A foodie paradise

April 26, 2103

TODAY, as David put it, the Riddles saved Southwold from a triple dip recession.

It was time to stock up the fridge and move on. But a quick trip to the shops turned into a bit of a spending spree.

Amazed by the ease of parking the Hymer for free on the seafront, we lingered in the butcher-cum-deli, the farmer’s market, and the Adnams Wine Shop – a great place to find gifts for foodie friends.

We bought fantastic apricot and white chocolate bread-and-butter pudding at the Two Magpies bakery, pies at the Black Olive deli and cheese, teas and pheasant pate from Nutters.

Walberswick was our next destination. This pretty, upmarket village has equally pretty gift shops and plenty of space to park the van alongside the creek by the dunes, where we started to make inroads into all that food.

Sunny but with a chilly wind again, it was a perfect day for a walk on the beach, with the light glittering off the waves, and the golf ball of Sizewell B on the horizon.

Wheatears hopped about on the shingle as the dog chased a Frisbee we’d found among the flotsam.

Back on board, we made a quick detour so David could point out Westwood Lodge, a big house that was deserted back in the late Seventies when he and a couple of mates had dossed down in sleeping bags on the floorboards during a birding trip.

“There was a pentagram someone had chalked on the floor,” he remembered.

“Weren’t you scared?” I asked him.

“No, we thought it was a bit strange but we just ignored it,” he replied.

Looking down over the marshes from alongside the ‘No Caravans’ sign that’s there now, we saw two marsh harriers.

Saxmundham was our last quick stop of the day, a little town with two mega supermarkets that must have just about killed off everything else.

Tonight we’re staying on a Caravan Club certificated site nearby, at Iken. The proprietor is very friendly, and there are chickens, and ducks in a pond.

It’s turned very chilly and was hailing as we drove out here past Snape Maltings – a destination for another day.

Mad machines on Southwold pier

April 25, 2013

A SUNNY, breezy day in Southwold and a few welcome hours to myself. I mean that in the nicest possible way.

While David and Mike set off for Minsmere and some serious birdwatching, taking the dog in the Hymer, I settled down in the kitchen with Ferdinand the cat to catch up on a blogging backlog.

The sense of freedom as the day stretched out in front of me was so relaxing.

At Mike’s recommendation I strolled down to the Dome antiques warehouse – crammed from floor to ceiling with Arts & Crafts furniture – a style I like very much, but this was way out of my league price-wise.

I presume I was being watched on CCTV, since I didn’t see a soul in the whole hour or so I was there. Could hear the odd noise somewhere, but no voices. Spooky.

Down to the Pier for coffee and a panini in the Clock House café – an excellent place to take pictures of the iconic beach huts. I was totally bowled over by the mad automata in the Under the Pier Show and the water-powered clock.

The coin-operated Rent-a-Dog treadmill was my favourite machine, though Crankenstein the wind-up monster and the My-Nuke reactor were top value, too, and I loved the innocent old-world lunacy of the whole concept.

Chickening out of climbing the lighthouse steps, I contented myself with taking a photo to prove I’d been there, and launched myself upon the shops.

It was good to see that some independent food retailers were doing well despite the inevitable, if somewhat incongruous presence of a Tesco Express and a Costa.

I stuck to buying cards and presents from the multiplicity of seaside-themed gift shops and galleries.

Our friends were out for the evening, so David and I walked back into town with the dog for second helpings from the Lord Nelson’s excellent menu.

A thoroughly satisfactory day all round, including for David a weirdly coincidental meeting with another old birding friend at Minsmere.

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Holme, sweet Holme

April 24, 2013

UP late for a long walk along the beach at Holme. How lucky to have such a wonderful landscape outside your back door.

The weather stayed sunny and warm almost all the way, turning grey just before we got back to a much-needed breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. A perfect way to end our long-awaited reunion.

But there was no time to lose – we were off to Southwold to see two more friends for the first time in a decade or so.

En route, we stopped off at the lovely little church at Burnham Norton. Such a peaceful spot for a few moments’ quiet contemplation and remembrance, and somewhere I should have visited long ago.

Anyway, never mind that, we were soon rattling along the bumpy A road via Fakenham, past signposts to the ‘bootiful’ Bernard Matthews poultry empire, cursing at the traffic lights in Norwich, with a passing glance at the cathedral.

We turned off the main road briefly at Loddon, where we discovered an ideal spot to put the kettle on.

Right beside the bridge, there’s a small car park that’s free for two hours, looking out over the river with its brightly-coloured holiday boats. We watched a heron taking a rest in a garden, stock-still for so long we wondered if it was real, till it decided to indulge in a scratch.

On, then, to Reydon, where our friends run a B&B, in plenty of time for another lovely walk, this time following a circular route across the fields and along the Southwold quayside, stopping off at just the three pubs (!) for a glass of wine in each, and a very good steak at the Lord Nelson.

So tired I didn’t know what to do with myself by the time we got back. Just as well we had a proper bed again.

Picture-perfect Norfolk

April 23, 2013

WIDE open skies, without a cloud in sight, greeted us on Cley beach. A fantastic morning, it felt like the whole world had taken a shower and emerged clean and renewed.

A walk along the shingle bank produced a pair of greylag geese with three delightful fluffy goslings, marsh harrier, sedge warbler, lots of avocet, which are always so beautiful, plus godwit, sandwich tern, shelduck and shoveler.

Nothing remarkable, but then, as the car park attendant told us, the weather has been so cold that there are no insects for arriving migrants to eat, and many are dying.

The dog, meanwhile, had found a ball-shaped fish egg sac and refused to let it go, running off every time we tried to get near enough to stop him gradually chewing and swallowing it. Yuk. And he now has smelly breath.

After a very good lunch in the visitor centre – a beautiful building with spectacular views where my husband remembers only a scrubby old quarry the last time he was up here – we set off along the coast road, through a succession of picture-perfect villages, all brick and flint, and Farrow & Balled up to the nines.

We were off to look up an old friend and meet his wife at their home in Holme-next-the-Sea. Once-familiar sights, now rarities, spotted en route – a Tardis-like police phone box in a garden, and an old-fashioned AA box that must surely be one of the last of its kind.

Our friends treated us to a very civilised dinner at the Titchwell Manor Hotel – highly recommended.

And leaving the dog in the Hymer, we slept like babies in their palatial spare room.

Out of hibernation

April 22, 2013

AT last we’re back on the road, looking forward to a week veering between Norfolk and Suffolk visiting long-lost friends.

Outside, a gentle drizzle is falling as we sit in a quiet site at Rectory Hill Barns, Cley, where we’ve been looking out over a field boasting partridges, pheasant, pigeons (of course), a formation of Canada geese, and a nibbling hare. I’m not used to seeing hares, so their abundance en route has been a delight.

We got off to a very dodgy start. The Hymer, stored at a farm all winter, started first time. Then, once we’d stowed everything on board, it decided it was glad to be back home and didn’t want to go anywhere else.

A call to Green Flag followed. Fortunately they let us sign up to their home start service on the spot, arrived within 15 minutes and got us going in a jiffy, while I walked down to the chipshop to fetch an emergency lunch.

Well, we’ve seen red kites, buzzards, a jay and a kestrel over the A34, plus an almighty abundance of litter.

Last spring in Spain I remember tutting over the roadside mess and thinking smugly ‘It wouldn’t be like this at home.’ Famous last words.

The route between the A303 and Oxford is an Environmental Shame Area.

Can’t someone on a community service sentence clean it up, please?

The morning’s sunshine gave way to unrelieved grey skies as we headed east, past a vast, featureless Amazon distribution centre that matched the landscape.

Wind turbines and drab fenland  gave way to ferociously tidy orchards, and finally, after Hillington, to prettier countryside with hedges, woods and lots of wildlife dotting the fields.

While I walked the limping dog – his hip was playing him up – the Motorhome Masterchef got to work with the leftovers from our fridge back home, and I returned to wonderful salty fried asparagus, followed by fried egg on a bed of mixed veg and chorizo, all prepared on a 2ft worktop, with one frying pan and a wok.

Can’t imagine wanting to do all that after five hours at the wheel of a left-hand-drive van. But I did wash up.

Meanwhile Man U have been on the radio, notching up yet another Premiership title with a Van Persie hat-trick.

Oh, and we’ve installed a carbon monoxide detector, at a cost of £24, which seems like a good idea.

Itchy feet

February 18, 2013

FOR several months now we’ve been becalmed in Salisbury.

Not the worst place to be, and much good has come of it.

A brief hotel break in Tenerife has helped recharge the batteries, and it's time to look forward again.

Spring beckons, and given that we feel a need to remain in the UK, this could be the perfect time for a trip up the East Coast.

Long-lost friends populate the route, in East Anglia, in Bridlington, and in Aberdeen.

The rose bushes in my front garden are beginning to send out shoots but I’m ready to ignore them for a few more weeks, give them a short back and sides and then take off.

In the meantime we’ve eaten up all our food stocks from the Hymer, which is now being stored (at some expense to us) by an obliging farmer because our neighbours objected to the sight of it on our drive.

I didn’t think it was that hideous, but one of them called it ‘The Monster Van’.

At least it’s freed up a much-needed parking space.