Charles has a collection of around 20
magnificent motorbikes which have all been restored and are in absolutely
perfect condition. He has ridden all the way to our home in
Spain on two
occasions and we are hoping that he will do say again later this
year.
We travelled by train from Havant to Knightsbridge. Not
having an oyster card, the fare to travel just four stations on the Underground,
was exorbitant.
Off to Marshfield, near
Bristol and
Bath to visit Dick’s
cousin and her husband, we stopped enroute at a service station advertising M
& S Simply Food, to buy a sandwich for lunch. When we tried to use our
M&S voucher to pay for purchases we were told by the cashier that they
weren’t M&S at all, Simply BP. In Marshfield, a house in
the high street had recently become available for sale, due to the demise of the
elderly, owner occupier; a bargain perhaps, for a would-be purchaser, looking to
move to this sought-after village.
The weather, on the journey to
Lancaster was dull and
overcast. One could hardly believe that we are in the midst of summer. Janie and
Mike are renting a lodge house in the countryside just outside the town and we
were entertained by rabbits hopping around outside and sheep, frolicking in the
fields. Rosie, the much-loved dog, drew blood when she snapped at Dick as he
attempted to pet her. Apparently, she has since become even more unreliable and
has had to be put down, much to the despair of Janie; they had been companions
for more than 10 years.
The weather picked up enroute to
Glasgow and the sun
shone warmly. We found the apartment which David and Susan are renting for 3
months, with ease. We had last seen them at the WARC farewell party in
St
Lucia, in
April.
The Tom-tom, which we have borrowed from
another friend, has been brilliant, taking us from door to door.
While in
Glasgow, we did a
tour, by car, of the city. We drove out, past Loch Gare, the well known Polaris
base, via Loch Long, Loch
Lomond, Lochan and up to Loch Fyne. We
stopped at the picturesque village of
Luss and visited
Inverarary castle. On our return journey, we were caught in a three hour traffic
jam; there had been a motorbike accident on the Argyle road, which had
subsequently been closed. Traffic crept along the lanes, some hardly wide enough
for two vehicles to pass.
On our way to
Newcastle to visit
Mike and Dorothy, Dick’s brother and his wife, we drove over a bridge on the
main road near Wall and before the turn-off for Hexham; standing waist high in
the river below, was a man casting his rod.
While in Northumberland, with the weather still sunny and
warm, we drove to a pub in Craster, on the east coast, and ate bowls of
delicious crab soup accompanied by crab sandwiches, a local speciality. There
were some very unfriendly waves breaking on the rocks and the swell which came
into the small walled harbour caused the few boats within to jerk, in what
seemed to be a most uncomfortable fashion.
Mike, Dick and myself walked past Dunstanburgh castle and
across the sand dunes, the golf course to our left and the sea and beach to our
right, to meet Dorothy at the golf club; she had driven the car to meet us
there, supping coffee and reading the paper while she waited for us to join
her.
Tim, Dick’s nephew, his wife and her son, joined the rest
of us for dinner at home, Sunday evening. Tim had married again while we were
circumnavigating and this was the first time we had meet his bride and stepson.
Tim had catastrophic kidney failure about seven years ago
and after having to cope with dialysis for a while, his father gave him one of
his kidneys. Unfortunately, the transplanted kidney has now ceased to function
so Tim is back on dialysis and we are all hoping for another suitable
donor.
The sun was still shining when we left
Newcastle and took to
the road again; this time to travel to Leicester, to visit Tim’s sister
Sarah and her family, a very bright, talented trio. Ian is the eldest, thirteen
years old, macho when he thinks about it but lots of fun when he forgets, a
typical male teenager. Olivia is a natural gymnast; only eleven but easy to see
that she will be giving the boys a run for their money when she gets older.
Emma, the youngest at 9 years is very smart and enjoys numbers. She can tell you
instantly what score remains when she plays against you at darts. The girls had
me pushing myself into all sorts of weird positions as we played Twister
together.
Next, we drove to Shaftesbury to meet
again with Terry and Wendy. Once again we had the luxury of sleeping in the
apartment above the garage. Visiting Weymouth, we were
amazed at the number of people swimming in the sea, while others sat on the
beach wearing windproof jackets. We were all wearing much needed jackets. The
following morning we went to Stourhead House, a National Trust property with
extensive gardens. We picnicked near the cathedral at Wells, where we met with
their son Ollie, Becky his wife and Timothy, their three month old
baby.
Next stop, we drove to a small village
near Somerton to meet Steve, an old friend of mine from the days we both lived
in Winchester, his wife
Fen and their two delightful children, Alice, who is thirteen and Ingrid, who is
eleven.
The following day we all climbed into Fen’s seven seat
automobile; Emma the dog, half lying on the girls laps, half on the floor of the
vehicle, with her head propped on the folding middle seat in front of her then,
drove to Lyme Regis. Walking from the car park to the beach, we passed a boat
building academy where we watched students of all ages, building traditional
wooden boats.
The girls bought an inflatable boat, both managing to get
themselves soaked as they rowed in circles. Steve swam in the cold
water.
On the road again, this time to
Plymouth, to visit
Jackie, the widow of Dick’s cousin Ian. The day we arrived the sun shone, the
wind was not too strong and it was day 1 of a sailing rally. We walked along
Plymouth Ho and round to the Barbican. There were lots of classic boats, dressed
overall, moored in the marina.