Exeter - For the footie
Footballs back! After a summer with only The Euros and The Olympics to watch, the 2024/25 EFL football league Division 1 season was about to begin. In Exeter. No home or local Derby fixture for us. It was to be a 450 mile round trip to the furthest ground in the division. Still, it was still summer and a nice long weekend away in Dame Shirley sounded perfect. We would leave after lunch on Friday, as soon as Ian got home from work. Sadly, as soon as Ian got home from work he got an emergency call from grandmas carers. Her hearing aid wasn’t working, again. Off he trotted to sort that, but it didn’t take too long and at 2pm we were ready to depart. We left all the lads and grandma in Chris’s excellent hands, again, and off we went, to the South. Misty could not come once more due to football and heat.
I had planned this weekend with meticulous detail. We would stay the first leg at Tewksbury Abbey Caravan and Motorhome club site. We had actually stayed here before in the caravan when the kids were little and remembered it as being nice. We had to get there first of course. Sir Georgie Kelly kept giving us updates on the length of delay a Friday afternoon on the M42/M5 was going to bring us. We got up to 45mins before he had had enough and told us we could save 15mins by detouring through Thornbury, somewhere near Brizzle. We did this of course and it was much nicer driving.
At Around 5.30 we rolled through the lovely town of Tewksbury and into the CMC site. It was as lovely as we remembered. The warden gave us a choice of 43 or 47, the only two pitches left, just the way I like it. I can’t be bothered to have to circle round looking for the best spot. Turns out pitch 43, the one he recommended, was a fabulous little fella. Lovely block paving (Misty would have loved it) and a nice bit of grass. We reversed in, gas, electric (no problem), chairs out, and by 10 to 6 we were lazing in our birthday present from Chris (zero gravity chairs) having a beer in the sun.
After an amazing bit of zero gravity beer drinking, we wandered into the town for some tea. The site is right by the Abbey, which is what I most remember from thirty years ago. There is a huge meadow just across the road too. Misty would have loved it.
We settled on The Abbots Pantry for tea. A nice little bistro style restaurant on the high street. It had a few unusual dishes. It also had scallops for starter so we had to share those. Then we both opted for (shut your ears the veggies and Kathy) rabbit Provençal. I hadn’t had rabbit for years and Ian fondly retold the tale of his dad swerving all over the road to run one over, before skinning it and cooking it for tea. Happy days! All the food was very nice, as were the staff and the ambience.
Back at Dame Shirley we had a nightcap while watching the Olympics highlights. I will put in writing here that breakdancing has never been an Olympic sport. Afterwards, I removed another of my birthday presents from the bed. A set of throw cushions from Einar. Aren’t they fabulous?! Then it was off to bed with the crying of the seagulls lulling us to sleep.
Ian was awoken by the 5am ringing of the Abbey bells, the 6am crying of the ‘bloody seagulls’ and the 7am cooing of the ******* pigeons. I slept through the lot. And he keeps telling me to get my ears syringed. As if! We did the usual pfaffing including the crossword off, victory for me of course. Both had showers in the very new shower block with proper turning taps. Then had bacon butties in the mirk outside. The sun had deserted us but it was still warm.
Of course our next stop was Exeter. After much browsing of the internet I had found a suitable place to stay. None of the campsites or CLs (certified locations for five units only ) were anywhere near a bus or train that would take us to the ground, so I had decided on a Brit Stop. This is where you stay overnight in a pub car park in exchange for maybe having a drink or a meal. I had phoned ahead to the Blue Ball just off the M5 and they were happy for us to stay. We sadly left Tewksbury vowing to return for a longer stay and headed South. Of course we were held up around Bristol for no apparent reason except holidaymakers headed for Cornwall. Sir Georgie had no escape for us here but at least we never came to a standstill. We arrived at the Blue Ball around 2pm and were directed into a corner at the back. It was on a bit of a slope but not too bad once on the ramps. There was another Belgian motorhome in the corner, but after picking a couple of bowls of British blackberries they left. I am assuming they had stayed the previous night.
We had a nice sandwich then popped in the pub for a swift half before making our way to the ground. I had chosen the Blue Ball for its vicinity to Newcourt station. From here there was a direct train to St James Park, the Exeter city football ground. It looks like a really nice train line, going all the way to Paignton and calling at spots like Dawlish and Dawlish Warren. We stepped off the train and almost straight into the stadium. We had chosen seating as opposed to standing, much to Vickys disgust, but the toilets here were so much better than the ones the great unwashed got.
Sadly, despite a great turnout of Millers fans, we lost 1-0. Not a great performance and not a great result. Back on the platform we had a nice discussion with some Exeter fans. We soon arrived back at Newcourt, then soon after the Blue Ball. Here we were in time for some tea. Fish and chips for me and plaice for Ian. Both nice but I feel the portions were not Northern portions. Plenty for me though. We had a nice chat then a double brandy each. The pub was really quiet for a Saturday night. Our friends the platform Exeter fans had told us that it would close if not for the rugby crowd they get. The Exeter Chiefs ground is just over the motorway, five minutes walk. We wandered back to Dame Shirley and watched some more Olympics before de throw cushioning and turning in.
It was a warm night so we left a vent open which meant the noise of the M5, just over the hedge, was a steady drone, but it didn’t worry me. Ian was once again awoken by a flock of seagulls, but they didn’t bother me either. I had booked to have breakfast at the Blue Ball, another nice benefit of a pub stay, so we pfaffed till 9.30 then wandered over. The breakfast would certainly have satisfied any Northern man, but once again the pub was deserted. Another campervan had arrived last night, then left before us. At least they were doing a roaring trade in people like us.
This had been the first time we had stayed off grid in Dame Shirley. While doing the NC500 in the hired van we had tried it. On that occasion we had got up the next morning to find we couldn’t move the drop down bed back up. The leisure battery had drained overnight. Once Ian started the engine it was Ok but I was a little nervous here. I shouldn’t have worried, the leisure battery was still showing full the next morning, we had plenty of water left, and the toilet was still fine. I had felt safe too which is good. I still prefer a proper campsite but am quite happy to use these pub stops in future.
We left Exeter and headed for our next stop. Uphill Marina and Touring park. An independent site near Weston-Super-Mare. Once again there were delays on the M5, and once again Sir Georgie came through, taking us through Cullompton to miss the blockage. The final approach to the site was very hairy, down narrow lanes then past a cafe where the parking of cars outside left a lot to be desired. We were also being followed by a police car. Thankfully he turned around at the gate, a big Fort Knox style thing with a log in code to enter, not to be shared with anyone else on pain of death. It’s a small site surrounding a little lake where you can use none motorised craft to your hearts desire. Sadly we have no none motorised craft so couldn’t take advantage. Misty would have loved it. Our text had told us we were on pitch 19, and to reverse in on pain of death, which we obviously did! Not so the Motorhome next door, so I am presently waiting for the Gestapo to come round. Despite the rules it’s lovely. We were looking over the lake and Ian soon got everything set up. It was also exceedingly hot. 26 degrees despite it being cloudy. We got the table and chairs out, but soon decided we needed the canopy for shade.
I decided to pop over to look at the facilities then make a cuppa. That cuppa was a long time coming. Uphill Marina has by far the chattiest clientele of any site we have been too. I was held up for ages by a man walking his dog around the lake, very nice man, Spurs fan from Banbury. I found out all about the qualities he needed in a motorhome and all the places he had been to. Eventually we parted ways, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed him heading for Ian. Facilities checked I was heading back when I got chatting to a very nice lady, from Essex. We talked Trump, Biden, Farage and Hitler. Plus all the places she had been to in her motorhome, where she holidayed as a child, and most of the history of her two Rumanian rescue dogs. I was parched by the time I got back.
We had said cuppa with a sausage roll, sat outside and chilling. Wonderful!
After some anti gravity lazing about we decided on a stroll into Weston. We were right at the far end of the beach, and as we came upon it we realised why its nickname is Weston-Super-Mud. The tide was out almost as far as Wales!we strolled along the beach which was absolutely packed in the 30 degree heat. Got about as far as the pier where we had a 99 (£2.80!) then strolled back.
We had a very peaceful nights sleep, although it was pretty close, and despite being by the sea we’re not awoken by seagulls. It also seemed the parking police had not been to arrest the lady next door! We breakfasted, packed up, and left for home, having thoroughly enjoyed our weekend, in the main!
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