Chatsworth

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 This time last year I saw a piece on TV about the Chatsworth Christmas market and house decorations. ‘Ooh’, I thought, ‘That’s for me!’ I then remembered the Chatsworth Caravan and Motorhome club site with its secret door into the estate. Then I had a thought. What if we stayed at the site and used the secret door to access the wonder? So I booked us a few days away, luckily as it turns out as the site is always fully booked at this time of year. 

It’s so fully booked that the weekends were already gone, so I had booked from Sunday to Weds. Ian was doing the Donny 10k on the Sunday morning so I walked the dogs and finished up the packing while waiting for him to return. He was not happy. Despite having an ankle problem that stopped him running for a month he was disappointed that he hadn’t run faster than his personal best. Ian is Ian.


 A sad runner

After he returned we had a spot of lunch, hopped in Dame Shirley, and were rolling into Chatsworth CAMC site by 2.30. It was pouring with rain. Indeed storm Bert had hit the country hard with flooding and high winds. No flooding or winds here but the lashing rain did mean that Ian didn’t want to get down on the floor to set up his intricate maze of pipes for the waste water. So despite us being on a super pitch we are using our own grey waste tank and will have to empty it when we leave. We do have our own water supply though, and a nice hedge marking our territory.


Dame Shirl ensconced on her Superpitch


I set up all the inside stuff, woman’s work and especially nice when it’s chucking it down, while Ian did the man stuff outside. He’s getting good at it. Everything, including the electric, worked first time. We decided not to venture out so we did the pub quizzes, crossword etc, and watched the footy. I then rustled up a nice butter chicken (courtesy of Charlie Bingham) which we washed down with a bottle of red. An episode of Wolf Hall followed, where Ian fell asleep, so we retired for the night. Better weather is forecast for tomorrow.

Neighbour watch

Soon after us a humongous motorhome arrived next door. The driver reversed deftly onto his SuperPitch and set up his stuff. I noticed the door is on the opposite side to us so decided they must be German. Very efficient. However Ian spoke to them later and they are not. I have become very nosy while trying to view inside their luxurious pad.

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