Chapter 1 – Wednesdays child is full of woe?
He'd responded well to treatment. Several weeks of everything his beloved Kent had to offer; Folkston Pudding Pie and Kentish cider, meant that young Rob had managed to fight off the North'vid M6 virus he'd picked up at the last camping weekend. Not wanting to suffer again he planned to travel down on the Thursday; bag a good pitch away from others so as to isolate himself a bit. The bike was all loaded and chomping at the bit to get on the open road.
Unfortunately, other members were having a few problems with their 'modes d'transport'. Nigel had risen to find a dead duck of a battery on his BMW. His little Suzuki was eager to please and step up to the task but he wondered if he would be able to carry everything on his list; thick duvet as there was going to be a frost, 12V fridge for his G&T and a life jacket in case of flooding. He also wanted to take the big grey tent, about the length of a narrow boat; this called for some strategic packing.
Mat P. had pixie problems - they had all escaped from his battery. With no jump leads or a steep hill to bump start the bike down, he was forced to wait for his plug in charger to fill it back up with pixie dust and lucky Easter bunny feet before leaving. A disappointment as he had planned to ride part of the way via the 'Not too Fossed' way. As he sat waiting for his pixiometer to slowly rise he sought solace in a bottle of Laphroaig that had fell out of a pannier.
Dick was not a happy pre Easter bunny either. He was having problems with his shaft. Over, energetic use during its youth, no amount of lubrication could help the poor old thing now. He would have to consider his options over a beer or 3.
Terry was excited. He was going a day early, opting for a healthier mode of transport. With the promise of good weather, he was aiming to cycle to the camp site, either to save the planet or to try and lose weight from all the beer he had drunk at the last gathering.
A little bit 'over confident' he even tried to enlist Paul 'tutu d'France' H. to join him on a virtual tour of the TT course in his new padded cheek shorts. Paul, trying to humour him, suggest they try and recruit Dick as a 3rd wheel but we think that was more to help him carry Terry back to his tent after the ride. Paul posted he was going to give the Kwakka a blast this weekend and the budgie was coming too; strange name for Jane.
Either way he wouldn't be there till Friday as Jane was working.
Keith and Mairi were using the opportunity to try out their new bikes; only problem was they were parked in a corn field and were not sure if they would be able to get them out without burying the back wheels. Why a married couple should be hiding in the middle of a corn field on a sunny day I've no idea.
Axel , Steve B. and Jack would all be coming over from the continent; Axel in his camper van (his campsite wasn't finished yet and he'd been called upon to drive the digger to help get it finished in time), Steve would be on his BMW and Jack would be on ....well you never really know with Jack.
Steve had left it a bit late to book his ferry but managed to get a place on the last one out of France. He wasn't exactly sure where they would be storing his bike; slightly concerning as it was overloaded with parcels of bits of coloured glass, beads and hand printed 'tourbière rouleau' (bog roll) to trade with the northerners together with several case of cheap red plonk. He was also worried he might have to share his cabin.
Jack had opted for a earlier budget ferry crossing with the promise of live music and exercise, together with copious quantities of rum. He later posted that the exercise was in fact rowing and it maybe sometime before he arrived – mainly due to the rum.
Despite the forecast of good weather for the weekend, several members had opted for accommodation with four walls and a roof rather than canvas.
Tony (ex presidente) had been having problems erecting (?) tents for many years now and had reserved the corner of a dirty tramps derelict garage for the weekend rather than struggle to 'up' his tent poles. Heather offered the services of 'Erecto no problemo Trento' to which Tony jumped at the chance to have Ted erect something for him when he got there. All too much information really.
Chapter 2 – Thursdays child has far to go.
Well, people would have far to go if they could. Dick had 11 reasons he couldn't go on the Thursday; 1 was Tracey was working and the other 10 were due to a pack of Stronbow cider he had to drink before the sell by date. (which he read to be 2000 not 2020, or so he says).
Other people had ‘proper’ reasons. Paul G. was on BloodRunner training so he couldnt leave till the the friday. Simon ‘essential worker’ was delivering food boxes to the to the vulnerable over the weekend so he and Alison would catch us all next time.
Paul A. was also working but hoped to sneak out for a cheeky Saturday ride out,
Cupcake was the other way round. He was busy trying to drink a weekends worth of IPA in one sitting while the sun was out.
The lucky ones all made good time on the strangely empty roads and bagged the best spots before the hoards arrived on the Friday.
Chris G. had reserved a Swiss mountain lodge big enough to accommodate the entire club if need be; not sure if he knew something about the weather the rest of us didn't. Maybe Rob and Mairi had some inside information too as they had both re proofed tents prior to this weekend. Robert M. had pre booked the same accommodation he had used previously but he had felt a little strange when making the booking. He couldn't remember if he'd left without paying the bill or had made a spectacle of himself after too many JD & Coke puddings. He'd find out one way or another once he got there. At least he could remember the way.
Tony was having a brain freeze. He couldn't quite get his head around social distancing; was he allowed to go and collect Sue from the south coast? How many tents should he take? Who was going to go the bar?
Since 1975 he’d been very confused. Every since he was a young 'Yankee doodle dandy', he’d been used to measuring everything in feet and inches and his nuts were always UNC. Then along came the metric system; totally confusing.
He decided to break the problem down into its composite parts, much the same way you would strip down a M4 carbine.
Google maps told him Sue lived 116 miles away, that calculated to 612480 feet.
With the information he gleamed from both Alexa and Siri, together with his scribblings on the back of a beer mat, he calculated that 2 meters was 656168 feet (he’d forgot to carry the one).
That ment that Sue was less than 2 meters away from him all ready!. Bugger. Oh well, she will just have to make her own way there. Happy, he set off for the campsite, down the B4040, the A433 and then the B4014. He’d actually negotiated more than one roundabout on his journey and Ted was going to put up his tent. The day was just getting better and better.
Meanwhile Sue, fully aware that Tony's plan all along was to deprive her of her globetrotter points, had simply driven to the site and was sat getting pissed with a couple of froggy friends and a leprechaun.
Ted and Heather had a somewhat arduous ride to t'garden with bikes heavily laden with multiple tents,copious quantities of grog and a Lego cabin especially for the Christmas cat. They couldn't leave the cat on its own so they had to bring it along.
It wasn't happy. Like a spoilt teenager it had complained and whinged, then, to get its own back, it had had got pissed on Advocat and passed out in front of the Lego cabin.
Ted quietly walked away from the scene, he had something very important that needed twiddling with on his bike and left Heather to sort out the kids.
Across the site, Elisabeth had already arrived, was all set up and pacing up and down in front of her tent. She’d vowed to stay off the booze till later in the day but it was proving hard to do. She was convinced she could hear a bottle of cooking sherry calling to her from some far off distant land. Dave had gone for his usual siesta so he was no help.
Terry was also setup but within 5mins his tent was crawling with woodland creatures. He had the solution. His eye dazzling, multicoloured tee shirt and pants scared the shit out of the little creatures and they were out and heading back to the Hundred Acre wood faster than you could say Christopher Robin.
Even Chris G. sat in his Swiss chalet on the other side of the site, had to turn the blinds down a bit so as to not to curdle his beer at the sight.
Steve B. was set up and had his priorities right, BBQ by the pool.
Steve J. had his doubts about the size of Steve's BBQ. Dressed in a pair of well worn sandals and a bed sheet wrapped around himself, Steve J. had suddenly produced a dozen fish's from nowhere, which he wanted to feed everybody on the entire camp site with.
All he needed was Sue to get back from Tesco with 30 loafs of bread (if his maths was right) and he would be able to produce wonders. He was a bit concerned that she might be limited to only 2 bread products at a time though.
Sy and Jill had problems. Jill had booked a room for the weekend, expecting rain but the decorating was not finished as the tradesmen had all had to isolate. Sy had to turn round and go back for the tent.
Meanwhile, Dave J. was camped by the bogs.
Laura G. eventually turned up, seems she had been blessed with everybody else's traffic.
Not happy with the remaining pitches around the site, she fluttered her eye lashes and managed to bag a room in the pub.
Grateful as she was, (the view was great) she still wanted to camp and feel the grass between her toes in the early morning dew.
Like a woman on a mission she started to search the campsite and the various out buildings around the pub. Her efforts were rewarded with a wheel barrow and a spade.
She then spent the next hour moving a ton and a half of top soil and turf up to her room to cover the floor before pitching her tent.
Sweating in her mayflower tour tee shirt and feeling like a super hero, she admired her handy-work with pride.
She should have a cape. All super heros have capes, she thought. We should have tour tee shirts in woman's cut with capes, she decided. She made a mental note to bring it up with Paula at the next AGM.
Suddenly, out the corner of her eye, she say something move. With cat like reflexes she turned, spade held high above her head like a samurai, ready to dispatch anybody or anything that was trying to make a move on her.
She froze. Down by the doorway was a small teddy bear, shivering and looking very scared. In an instance, Laura had fashioned a smaller version of her own tee shirt into a teddy bear size garment and had swaddled up the little creature before it knew what was happening. 'Super hero's should always look after the weak and defenceless, she thought.
I really should make myself a cape.'
Safe and warm the little bear regaled his tale. He’d been viewing a new property that had just been built on the edge of the Hundred Acre wood as a possible second holiday home for him and his partner ‘Tiger’ . Painted a nice summer yellow colour it seemed to tick all the right boxes and would suit them admirably.
The estate agent had told them there was no chain and the property was empty, but suddenly, whilst looking round the kitchen and utility area, the drunken, hideously dressed, monstrous, current owner had arrived and came barging in, almost squishing the pair of them with his huge great paws. They were luck to escape alive but, blinded by the intense luminosity of the attacker, they stumbled on the wrong path, separated and he had wound up here as he regained his vision.
Comforting the trembling, little bear, she gave him her last can of Stronbow, laced with Honey beer, to take his mind off the whole experience. Secretly, Laura made a vow.
She would reap justice on the assailant the first opportunity she got, after all that's what a super hero would do. First though, she needed a cape.
The village pubs seemed to shut early on the Thursday night for some reason.
Robert M. had done a full lap of the area in search of a beer but was forced to return to the clubhouse.
Anne C. found the ‘Crows Nest’ open but last orders had just been called when she got there.
Chapter 3 - Fridays child is loving and giving.
The early dawn chorus had woken many people up far sooner than they wanted but the site of Steve B. parading around the site in his tee shirt and shorts, so early in the morning kept most of them under canvas a little longer. Nigel was already on his second cup of coffee.
Michael and Alice , keen to get an early start, forgot to pack the beer in the rush to get away.
Travelling via Dorking and Mullins Coffee Shop for a breakfast and a photo for the Mayflower 400 Landmark Challenge , they still managed to get to the campsite so early it wasn't even open so they decided to pitch in the street.
After a reviving cup of coffee, Michael went back for the beer and supplies.
Paul G. had arrived and was now making the most of it. After Scarborough Fair, his route took him via Welwyn Garden City and Hampstead Garden Suburb to arrive at the campsite in Kent, the Garden of England. He’d rigged up a tow bracket on the bike and dragged along a full size gas BBQ. A bit overkill really as he only had 2 hot cross buns for the whole weekend. He wasn't bothered though; tent up and he was straight on the rhubarb gin.
Kim had landed but hadn't started on the alcohol yet. He hadn't wanted to upset any of his tents by making them think they weren’t his favourite so he decided to spoil them all and brought all 5 camping. At least he had the option to sleep around if he wanted too.
Bryan was talking all ‘luvy dove’y’ to his bike but, by dinner time, he still hadn't got it all back together. Paula must have had a say in things because next thing we know, they have both arrived, together with Sally the cat and had 2 tents up with Bryan was sat in the sun (with no hat on ) having a beer.
Darren had arrived on his old tub thumper so he could do a bit of off-roading around the campsite but he almost came a cropper riding over a flowerbed so decided to just park up and start on the beer.
It wasnt long before he was joined by Mat P. who’d made good time taking the ‘I’m not Fossed’ way. Unfortunately Matt was not a happy chicken. His pre-booked pitch had already been usurped by some feathered immigrants and he was not able to do the British thing (straight-arm them "arf moy laarnd") and had to make alternative arrangements. Luckily Jack was able to point him to a good local B&B called "R Rowse" which was owned by the wonderful "Erin Doors" who gave him a parking spot in the garage right behind Jack's.
Dick and Tracey decided to take the long road down and, under no time pressures, stopped for breakfast at The Gardenia Lodgings.
Paul and Jane were not far behind them but Dick was having problems with his old shaft again and eventually it broke beyond repair. Tracy was heartbroken. She’d liked that old shaft of his. Her mood improved though when they managed to limp into a coffee and cake restaurant and then, joy oh joy, Dick told her he was going to get a completely new, stronger replacement sent out so they could continue. Not long after they had arrived, booked in, tent up and Dick was mixing Hobgoblin and Strongbow cocktails for anybody brave enough.
Margaret and Fred had a bit of a arduous journey getting to the campsite and , faced with trying to picth a new tent for the first time, they upgraded to the VIP enclosure complete with flat grass, private BBQ area, seating and waitress wine service.
Meanwhile Steve B. was consuming vast quantities of home made blackberry apple pie, with cream and custard and ice cream followed by home made trifle with ice cream , in fact, everything on the pub menu. Robert M. had moved out of the sun and BBQ ash into the pub to drink his G&T in peace.
Brian (Terry’s Brian) had taken pity on his Merc convertible, stuck in the garage, covered in sheets, so he’d given it a run out for the weekend. Roaring down surprisingly empty roads for Good Friday, he too was soon set up and on the beer.
Its funny what we all remember about important experiences. It doesn't matter if its riding your first bike, having your first beer or losing your first virginity; it sticks in your mind and gives you a point of reference for the second experience the next time round, be it better or worse.
For some, losing their second virginity over the weekend was a worse experiance.
The first candidate was Alan M. There he was, bare chested, doing what ever he was doing around the campsite when his phone rang.
Picking it up, he froze, like a bunny in the headlamps. There was a face on it. It was moving and it wasn't his face!. He had just lost his video virginity.
It was Sy who had video chatted him; one to find out where he was camped and two to seek his advice. Sy hadn't had any problems with the erection of his tent , it was just that it looked a bit ‘mis shaped’ and bigger that it should do. He’d wanted to show Alan M. what it looked like but Alan didnt seem all that happy with the idea.
‘How have you done this ’ he asked. ‘What’ said Sy. ‘Managed to video me’ said Alan, acting as if he was a MI5 operative and his cover had just been blown.
‘Its only Facebook Messenger, you just click on the little video camera and away we go’. Alan didn't seem all that convinced and kept nervously looking up, glancing from side to side, looking for a Russian satellite overhead.
Eventually he calmed down and set about diagnosing Sy’s problem with his tent. It turned out that the ‘free gift’ of a Force 10 tent Sy had received was a mishmash of bits. He was trying to mate Mk 3 inner and outer with Mk 4 poles.
Leaving Alan M. to get his own tent up. Sy looked for another victim.
The second video virgin was Nigel. He’d sailed to the campsite on the Good Ship Lollypop after he had had battery problems with the bike. He was sprawled out on his bunk, guzzling cheap red wine and reading the latest edition of ‘Rusty Bottom Weekly’ when his phone rang.
A somewhat different reaction as he tried to focus on the screen but he too was amazed he had just lost his virginity. The conversation was bobbing along swimmingly until Nigel, realising the wine had all gone, claimed he had something in the oven and it was all Sy’s fault his tea was burning and he had to go.
Sy was on a roll. Sometime later he managed to catch Dick and Tracy on the sofa in the back room of the pub. Claiming they couldn't see anything other the top of somebody's head, the truth finally came out that they were playing with the Devils Ipad and had thought they had made contact with somebody beyond the realm.
Sy couldn't emphasise strongly enough, that no good would ever come with playing with such an unholy device as that and they should both be thoroughly ashamed with themselves. He left them to think on what they had bought.
It took Sy two attempts to video Paul and Jane. The first time Paul's phone rang and it said somebody was trying to look at him he threw the phone to the other side of the room and hid behind the couch screaming. Luckily Jane is made of sterner stuff. The second time the phone rang she managed to coax Paul out from behind the couch with a biscuit dipped in lager and held his hand as he watched the moving face on his screen.
Sue J. had no such problems with appearing live , even in front of a bigger audience and jumped at the opportunity to show off her talents. Steve was happy to star in her productions as long as he didn't have to move anything other than his drinking arm and nobody made a move on his take out from the George Public House.
Somebody else was enjoying a take out but of a different kind. It was Wonder Woman Laura's birthday and she was celebrating in style, no expense spared.
Forget about ordering a 24 carat gold leaf topped pizza from Industrial Kitchen in New York’s South street Seaport, containing caviar and truffles which will set you back $2700. No, anybody can safely eat one of them.
What you really want to do is live on the edge and try and survive a cold, congealed, chicken and sweet corn heart attack in a box from Dominoes complete with delivery boys unwashed thumb prints all over it, supplied with a pot of 3 day old garlic and herb dipping sauce on the side. The antidote to such a meal is to wash it down with vast quantities of Strongbow cider, renowned for its paint stripping ability. Only a super hero could take on such a meal. Way to go girl.
Friday night was quiz night. Heather had rustled up 10 cunning curiosities of British cities to challenge the cranium with promises of FANTASTIC prizes, for the lucky winner who posted the answers by 5pm the next day.
Jack had, by accident, locked himself in the wine cellar of the local B&B.
He was OK, and had texted to say he didn't want rescuing (hic).
Then, when everybody though they had had enough to drink, the Toads turned up !
Chapter 4 - Saturdays child works hard for a living.
Paul G. was up early trying to hide Easter eggs around the site for the traditional Easter Sunday ‘eggy hunt. He had a couple of helpers with him; Chas & Dave who, over excitedly, buried them so deep nobody was ever going to find them again . Something for future Time Teams to find and wonder about.
Many other campers were up early too, either by choice or because it was ‘potty o’clock’ .
Grumpy Alan T. was moaning at the noise but it was his own fault for turning up in the dark. Too tight to put credit on his phone, he couldn't call anybody to meet up so ended up sleeping under a bush. He been ok though, he’d sunk a bottle of scotch before curling up with the slugs.
It looked like the local recycling plant was using the area around Jacks tent as a second landfill for empty bottles. Nobody was quite sure if he was in the tent or if he was actually alive !
It wasn't long before the smell of bacon was wafting across the campsite. Ted was trying to temp Heather out of her tent with his meat whilst others were already on 2nd breakfast. Chris G. vowed he was never going to drink with the Toads again.
As the temperature on the site reached 26 degC, Steve B. threatened to take all his cloths off. This cleared most of the site and people rushed off to either the local pubs for lunch or supermarkets to re-stock.
Alec and Marion arrived to an empty campsite followed by Pete M. as did Paul and Jane.
Paul as usual, just sat back while Jane struggled with putting a Force 10 Mk4 on her own for the first time.
Easter weekend is a religious time for some people and camping can be a chance for people to have the honour of bonding with their chosen deity. With this in mind, a small shrine and temple had suddenly appeared in the far corner of the field.
The erection (of the tent), overseen by Tim the Teddy, was performed by Sister Mairi, Holy Mother to the ’Grand Pixie’ His Holiness Keith, The First of His Name, leader of the Church of the Sacred FIM.
His Holiness was on hand to offer counsel and comfort to the disciples of the FIM, who, in these troubled times, were lost and without direction of pilgrimage.
The Grand Pixie is more like a shamanic healer than an actual priest. Essentially, he works in tandem with spirits, often called ‘helper spirits’ and summons these spirits to help him gain insight into a particular problem.
In order to do this he must enter a ‘trance like’ state , which he brings upon by chanting the ancient call of ‘ maw-beer-woeman’ , ‘maw-beer-woeman’ ...it is only then that he can find true enlightenment.
By the looks of things, Keith, was needing quite a lot of ‘helper spirits’ to sort out the preset problems the Church of FIM was facing. One of which is its image in the biking community.
We were joined over the weekend by 2 new potential members; Wallace & Grommet. They had heard rumours that the Mayflower held lewd and questionable gatherings each month. With full moons appearing each month they were concerned enough at attending this camping weekend.
On seeing the Grand Pixie sat high above the campsite, chanting, they feared being radicalised and pressurised into joining a cult that worshipped the Anti Cheese and other such demonic culinary entities.
It wasn't for them. As they raced across the field to escape the screeching chants of ‘maw-beer-woeman’, they passed one such horror.
Darren, apparently having just completed a 5mile run along the canal (as if) was stuffing his face with bacon and scrambled eggs on cinnamon bagels of all things, the sight of which, almost caused the sidecar outfit driver to loes control...‘Dear god, Grommet; who are these people!’
Michael S. was trying to confuse the spirits by using the wrong glass for his Duval and 2 glasses for his Hoegarrden while Jack was just drinking out of anything he could find.
Rosie was also having spirit troubles. It was a shame that Rosie couldn't make it. She’d ordered a barrel of Doom Bar from the local brewery to bring with her expecting a 5lt tin can thing.
Unfortunately they couldn't really understand her accent (or she was pissed when she placed the order) and what she got was a ‘firkin’ big barrel of beer instead (72 pints to be exact) .
Not wanting to see it go to waste, she collected gallon buckets from the shed and started pouring; one for the horses, one for the dogs and one for herself. ‘Oh well’ she though ‘I hope everybody has a good time’. It was only halfway down the bucket that the concept of a ‘virtual’ camping weekend came shining throughto her, bless.
Elisabeths spirits had gone over to the dark side of the force, sorry beer, while waiting for her Beef and Yorkshire pudding to be served.
‘Kentish’ Rob was hiding the ‘helper spirits’ in his cider under a ‘girly’ parasol on a pub bench whilst protecting his soft southern complexion from the suns rays.
Jack was entertaining that well known duo BBQ & BOCK.
Spider was concerned his ‘helper spirits’ might fall into the wrong hands with it being a busy weekend.
He’d hired a gang of Glaswegian ‘Billy Boy’ razor monkeys as protection for his beloved Guinness.
The ‘Billy Boys’ had driven through the night in a converted Tetley Tea truck to get there before dawn.
Meanwhile Mat P. was busy posing for Vogue magazine. A photographer and reporter had wander onto the campsite hoping to follow up a lead they had heard down the local chip shop of a travelling holy man and mystic who was reported to be in the area.
At first they thought it was Matt as they spotted him performing the ‘Lips stuck to frozen glass’ move, popular amongst students of the martial art ‘Down’jin’One’.
Realising it wasnt him, they quickly moved on, but nobody told Matt. He held the pose for three quarters of an hour before realising nobody was taking him on.
People started to burn things. Dick looked to be making a right pigs ear of his BBQ whilst Bryan ‘barbe-meister’ was showing off his skills.
Sy was all set up but was waiting for Jill .
Eventually Dick got his act together and his offerings looked somewhat edible although by this time Tracey was well into the cider so she didn't mind what he plonked on her plate.
It was late in the day when Richard L.S arrived. Without a tent he simply road up the ramp at the side of the pub and parked his bike on the decking overlooking the campsite, grabbed bench seat with comfy cushions to sleep and ordered a double without breaking a sweat.
Chapter 5 – Sundays child is happy and gay
Easter Sunday. First one up? Yes, you guessed it Steve B. Having jogged around the field (semi naked) he was tucking into scrambled egg and salmon for breakfast whilst people were still thinking about potty time. Once up, those members who were staying for the whole weekend were busy out egg hunting, trying to grab anything they could before the landlords kids found them.
Michael and Alice had walked for miles to some old ruins in search of eggs. They had even sabotaged the bike of their offspring , young Michelle, by removing the battery from her bike (according to eagle eyed Eric F.) to stop her finding them all but they only ended up finding 1 or 2 anyway.
Meanwhile, Elisabeth , dressed as a tiny green ninja, had crawled through the undergrowth and tulip field, around the back of the pub and had had it away with a whole wheel barrow of eggs which had bee left left for the landlords kitties.
As usully happened on a Easter Sunday, the Ton’up Boys were out on the roads early.
John and Caroline were the first to spot them as they sat having 2nd lunch at the "Grin and Bear it " pub.
Four members of Satans Bunnys MC, crammed on a custom outfit, whizzed past them at brake neck speed and it wasn't long before Elisabeth spotted them in Skewen and then Heather saw them overtake the Moggie & Sons Cookie Couriers who were out delivering essential supplies in BD4.
The pub later that night did a lovely roast leg of lamb for Michael and Alice let the side down a bit with the long wait for the cheese and biscuits.
Several members had to leave on the Sunday. Steve B. had left early only to hit some rain not long after leaving. Jack had disappeared early too but that was more to do with the fact that he’d ‘aquired’ a briefcase from somewhere filled with Easter eggs and nobody was going to believe Jack actually owned a briefcase.
Kentish Rob also left on the Sunday, this time fearing he might get wet on the Monday and didn't want to catch a sniffle. Really he wanted to get home and stuff his face with the mini eggs he had stolen from the Easter egg hunt at Eastnor Castle Ledbury a few days earlier. Bad man!
It had actually rained during the night or at least in parts of the field.
Ted and Heather had stayed dry and were packing up to go home, Terry hadn't been so lucky but he was'nt all that bothered. He was last seen running over to the next field in search of eggs.
Chapter 6 – Mondays child is fair of face.
Those that stayed the entire weekend had been rewarded with a snore’less and fart’less good nights sleep now that the campsite numbers had reduced.
Michael and Alice had a good rode home in sunshine, (even if it was a bit windy) as did John and Caroline.
Kentish Rob, with a smile on his face, returned home to find the rubber dingy ferry service had been busy with the good weather, depositing 86 new visitors to his coast.
The weekend had been a success and, for the whole, the weather had been great.
Till next time.
