Friday – Relatively late start, compared to other shows. Dad was over and we had happily wasted a day making apricot sausages, so that was my breakfast. I ate in the van, as loading took longer than I had thought. No problems with the ferry, and I had my socks to keep busy with.
I thought that I spotted Tim’s mum on the ferry, but can’t tell for sure, as just then someone’s toddler tipped a cup of tea over, and the café cleared in a mini-stampede, some running to help, and the rest making room for the helpers. It only lasted a second or two, but everything slowed down.
Once at the dock we headed to get gas for the burner and diesel for Tranie. Over twenty quid for 4.5kg now!
Then North. Aly managed forty minutes of ‘Yellow Car’ before she fell asleep. With her head on my shoulder I knitted as gently as possible so as to not jog her. Ian and I had time to think and to talk, and we realised that I had forgotten the washing up bowl and he had forgotten food and the float. The float was easy: many of the large service stations have arcades, with change machines, so we took in three twenties and a woolly glove and came out with the world’s fluffiest weapon. A fearsome thing ’tis a shrapnel enhanced glove.
Row by row, junction by junction to Bedford. That’s where we came unstuck. A5135 (A6). ’Nuff said.
Back into Bedford centre and navigated the inner system using rivers and railways as landmarks. No problems. Milton Earnest. Thurleigh (th-earl-aye).
Lovely site, all splendid white marquees and blue skies; soft clouds and soft sheep drifting by. And a big stress with setting up. I carried in the heavy stuff and ran away to the calm and pragmatic world of camping. My little sister had borrowed her big sister’s Union Jack tent. The shock cord had perished, but it stayed up. Ian had borrowed a pop-up tent. The pop had perished, but I made it stay up. I had my own tent, . We were quietly smug together under the sun, listening to dogs in the distance, and the sounds of the vendors.
Scald End Farm has a Farm Shop, so I went to buy veg and tea. Pretty layout and produce, and very pretty lady behind the till. Walked out all orange-glow inside. I then bumped into Jan the organiser who recognised me from a telephone call. She helped with all my concerns as to showers and such. A wonderful welcome. Headed back to the stall and found out that we had no food but veg. Farm shop, potatoes, oil, borrowed washing-up liquid.
It was now raining, so Aly volunteered to hold an umbrella while I cooked in the rain. We produced some form of hash brown rosti hybrid, with bacon and broccoli. I had a burner, a penknife and a non-stick pan which I tried not to scratch with the fork I had stolen from the ferry.
Then water in the biggest vessel, washed the rest and let the rain rinse it. We went back and forth to the tap as we only had a 1.5 litre bottle. That said, we only had to carry a 1.5 litre bottle, which is quite a silver lining considering the 5 gallon drum I had contemplated late Thursday evening.
That night, as I tried to sleep in the ditch that hadn’t been there when I pitched, I used the last glimmer in my torch to send a text to Puddytatpurr, asking her to bring batteries.