The weekend began with a bump-start down the hill in Brislington ( we need to get the van fixed...) and a non-getting-lost-other-than-a-quick-re-visit-to-a-roundabout journey to Newton Abbott.
Saturday brought tasty bacon sarnies thanks to Joe's dad's sarnie shop and then a decision to head to a river. Luckily I have a distorted sense of direction and we ended up at a completely different bit of water that was about 10 miles south of Newton Abbott rather then about 2 miles north...I think I need a designated map reader for the summer...
Then I drove the van, which was pretty exciting although Joe went pretty quiet
After some food and a lick of cider for Lou we set off for somewhere near Poole to kip for the night, little did we know what was to come...
Looking at the map ( I do try and get the direction right...) I was pretty delighted to see Puddletown on there, so that had to be the obvious napping place... we ended up down some pretty interesting little lanes but we found the town of the puddles, unfortunately there were no pubs so we set off for Affpuddle (hehee) and on the way spotted Tincleton and had to turn back to make sure we had been there too.. Unfortunately there rather small little villages didn't own pubs and it was miles to Pidlington, so we had to make the executive decision to hit Bear Regis, which made up for its name in its people...
Hit the pub and met the worlds most amazing wrinkly man with a dog (called Sunny)
The old man told us tales of the village, his dog (mainly), his ex wife being knocked up by his stepdad (things got personal!) how he isn't allowed to drink (necking 5 pints) and the like. Sunny is a plush rescue greyhound who has the life of luxury in his sofa-bed with blanket to tuck him in at night.
Headed back for the van and after some adventurous weeing having jumped over a fence into an alotment complete with frost...it was a heads-under-the-cover-sleep because it was approx minus 4 degrees. brr... (complete with bristolian twang)
Sunday morning brought an adventuroud bump start down a country track. Once Joe had realised he was hurtling down the hill in reverse, he managed to bump the van and came back up the hill (thanks go to the friendly man with a paper under his arm for helping me push)
Headed to Poole for a day of hanging about with Tom. Didn't windsurf in the end, the tide was right out and there was no wind...
The van still needs a name, I like Ralph. Or maybe it should be Mr Bump...
Joe is going to start re-making the inside soon...
xx
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