Abbey Wood - A New year in Dame Shirl
Sadly for us, it was early April before Dame Shirley saw her first outing. Happily for us, the reason was our Ruby wedding cruise. Over the winter Ian had prepared a new shelf to go by the sink. It looks very nice. The heating had broken, but Ian was able to mend it with the help of Olaf on utube. And Chris had got me a lovely new light for Christmas.
The reason for the trip to London was that Ian was running the London Landmarks Half Marathon in aid of Alzheimer’s Research, and also to check out The Caravan and Motorhome Club Abbey Wood site. This is the nearest site to central London and very popular.
Although we were all locked and loaded, our plan to leave around eleven was scuppered because Ian had to take his mum to the doctor. She had a chest infection and, he reported, was in a prickly mood. Still, with her all treated and settled back home, we were able to leave around midday.
It was great to be out on the road again. It was red hot, the Brown Bears head was a bobbing, and Sir Georgie Kelly was on the dash giving us questionable directions. What a time to be alive. The traffic was surprisingly light and we stopped off in a dodgy lorry lay-by near oakhampton for some lunch. Sir Georgie had taken us A1, M11, then he wanted to go through central London. I vetoed that idea. As we reached the M25 the traffic became surprisingly heavy. Still, what was Georgie thinking!? We crossed the Darford toll bridge (Ian made a note on Siri to pay, we’ve been burned before) and I checked the club directions to the site. Basically they were ‘Do not follow Sir Georgies instructions under any circumstances’. Ok. Noted.
With Sir George screaming at us all the way, I calmly directed us into Abbey Wood site just before five. The wardens were probably the most welcoming I have come across. We were left with about five serviced pitches to choose from and Ian liked the look of number 84, up on a little hill. He got the chocks under, gas and electric on (he’s a pro now) and we were soon settling down for our customary welcome beer in the fabulous chairs Chris bought us. I took time to pay the Dartford Toll. There are loads of birds at this site, lots of parakeets and in the tree by Dame Shirl, a green woodpecker feeding his chicks.
As the sun set I rustled up a curry and we sat outside to eat with a nice bottle of French red. It became a little cool so we retired inside to fight with the TV. We want to download the app for our newly purchased Now TV, which we are replacing Sky with, but no luck. So we watched a Keira Knightly series about spy’s on Netflix instead, then retired to bed.
I have a new series starting this year called musings, where I mull over my thoughts for the day. All the old favourites like toilets and neighbours may be included under this overreaching umbrella.
Musings
Okehampton is a hotbed of lorry theft.
The M11 is a terrible motorway, full of potholes.
In ‘Brass in Pocket’ by the Pretenders, when it sounds like Chrissy Hynd is singing ‘Deeterleening (which is how I have always sung it) she is actually singing ‘Detroit leaning’
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