23/2003 - Reflections from Basecamp
10th May 2004 - Back in the yUK agane
Hello you lovely lot!
Rollingfruitbats may be rolling around on more familiar shores at the moment (more familiar to most of you that is), but it's still all part of our adventures as Grey Nomads. So with your indulgence we propose to continue to send you occasional silly updates, with the emphasis on silly of course (always on the understanding that your name can be removed from the distribution list at the click of a mouse, should you so require!). We've had loads of 'Welcome back to Blighty!' emails, so thank you - the warmth of your greetings has compensated for the preponderance of cold days we've had, weatherwise, since returning.
On the ferry from France to Dover, we talked about things we were looking forward to on this next part of our expedition. In the month or so we've been back we’ve already enjoyed many of them and are working through the list. (Just so some of you cynics realise that we can still take the 'yuck' out of YUK!)
Things we like and are enjoying/have enjoyed so far/are pleased to be re-united with:
- Family and friends (best of all)
- Growing, gurgling, giggling grand-daughters - all 3 of them
- Daffodils (hosts of golden, pale lemon, flaxen same ... )
- Blossom, primroses, bluebells and other pleasures of Spring
- Drumming again in a group (and at our lovely friends George ‘n’ Anne’s brilliant wedding anniversary party)
- Being re-united with Yog the Yurt
- Our new plastic £3.98 ‘grass’ under-door mat from B&Q (!)
- Motorhomes Monthly and Practical Motorhome in English (the challenge of such mags in French didn’t quite give Jeni the frisson of MMM or PM!)
- Our view of the South Downs and Devil’s Dyke from Basecamp Fulking, courtesy of friend Sarah
- The free-call number for our AOL internet connection!
- Easily obtainable soya mince
- Baked beans
- Quorn sausages
- Still-warm eggs straight from the chicken shed
But we have our down-side, 'B' list of course, which we didn’t let ourselves dwell on too much on the boat coming over because some of them are so serious. The following are a few from that B list:
Things we don't like/have been distressed to be re-united with/were deeply dismayed to return to:
- Rain, wind, rain, wind and more rain and wind. And cold. And a bit more rain. (We have had some good days, but ... )
- Living is much more expensive, especially food and fuel
- Gob-smackingly crowded roads and traffic jams
- People looking very huddled and grey from the cold and being indoors so much of the winter
- The letter cancelling Jeni's NHS appointment (one of the reasons we came back earlier in April rather than later) saying they’d run out of funding for treatment!
- Multiple letters from our accountant telling us to pay large amounts of money to the Inland Revenue, National Insurance and other such unworthy causes (and regrettably also to him for the kindness of telling us all this!)
- People we care about being so stressed
- Seriously depleted bank accounts courtesy of (6) and the sickening realisation we therefore have to do some paid work over the summer (1, 2, 3 ... Aaaaaahhh!)
But hey, let's not dwell on the seamier side of life because that list could get us badly bogged down. When we radically changed our lifestyle to spend more time travelling, we weren’t running AWAY from things, rather we felt we were running TO new and different experiences, so we will look through our legs at these less positive things and try to see them from quirkier angles.
So, we arrived back at Basecamp Fulking as Sarah and Flynn, her daughter, went off on their hols, in time to take on our responsibilities as house-minders, chicken champions, dog feeders/walkers, cat strokers and budgie... Well, we reached day 3 of our Estate Management Tour when Jeni suddenly said 'Oh no! We’ve forgotten to feed Budge!' and rushed into the house, expecting to have to work out a Monty Pythonesque Dead Budgie sketch for Sarah's return. It was both good news and bad news. Happily, it wasn’t an oversight that feeding Budge didn’t appear on our list of Things To Do. But the tragedy was that a Dead Budgie routine could well have been in order, as the poor bird had indeed Gorn to Meet 'Is Maker some weeks earlier. Alas, poor Budge, we knew him well.
The paved spot outside the stable and outbuildings where we had parked Veejay in November before we set sail was our intended pitch, as we could then run the electric hook-up from the shed-cum-workroom. However, as Dave backed the Lorry on, there was an appalling cracking and crunching of flagstones and Jeni envisaged Dave and VeeJay descending in undignified fashion into the septic tank, which for a few horror-stricken moments she thought was right underneath! The problem was apparently down to wetness; the earth under the flagstones having been weakened by the torrential rain and no longer able to support the mighty weight of VeeJay. We’ve ended up parked alongside of the main house, tucked in between the house and the hedge - very cosy it is too. And it only involved Dave climbing onto the roof twice, to trim off a couple of tree branches which overhung the roof to scratching-point. Don’t try that on a Caravan Club site if you want to stay friends with the managers!
To the other side of the fence and hedge is a footpath which leads up the steep Fulking Escarpment to the top of the hill, from which you can look down into the valley and Devil's Dyke on one side, and over along the coast to Shoreham, Hove and Brighton on the other. It's fantastic! To the other side of the footpath is a field, now full of very noisy new-born lambs and their mums. Jeni thinks they are junior protestors, baa-ing their disapproval at Dave who is pretty partial to a crispy lamb chop from time to time. We did have a very silly moment one morning when we were having a bit of a lie-in to read (if you know what we mean!) and just as we reached the exciting bit of the story, there was a tremendous bleating and bellowed baa-ing from the field!! Perfect timing!
The top of Devil's Dyke is a favourite launch-site for hang-gliders and para-gliders - indeed, it’s the M25 of the para-gliding world in this neck of the woods. We frequently see novices of the air-sports school wheeling and swooping in the most alarming manoeuvres, and sometimes colliding with the side of the hill, ending up in crumpled heaps somewhat like giant crashed panty-pads. As Jane and Averil remarked one day when we were having a walk up the hill with them when they visited, it puts a whole new spin on the concept of panty-pads with wings. Jane rushed over to one untimely-downed panty-padder when we were almost at the top, and Averil and Jeni thought - ‘Bless! She's so good hearted, she’s gone to see if he's injured and needs help.' But no, Jane was questioning him closely about para-gliding equipment, methodology, courses and so forth, confessing to a lurking desire to have a go herself!
Soon after Sarah and Flynn returned from their hols, they were to host a village fun day. Naturally at any mention of Fun, the Fruitbats are in there volunteering to assist. A bit of preliminary work needed to be done before the day; Sarah's caravan was to be the refreshment preparation and serving zone so needed moving and the awning assembling; the coconut shy had to be constructed; markings made on the grass for egg and spoon races, welly-throwing etc.; trampoline to be moved; Yog the Yurt (already gracing one side of the garden) to be made ready as a music/percussion tent and Flynn was to hide things around the grounds for the scavenger hunt. As well as expecting the participants to find natural objects, she had all kinds of toys and treats for this - including about 120 tiny foil-covered chocolate eggs. These she had put for safe keeping in a lid-less box in a cupboard well away from Dave - no, no! he wouldn’t dream of it! - that should read, in a cupboard to keep nice and cool ready to be hidden round the grounds. Only when she went to fetch them they were all gone! Box still there, one or two stray pieces of foil to show they really had been there, but totally disappeared. The only conclusion we could reach was that the mice had found them and had had a very happy Easter!
The fun day was indeed loads of Fun. About 60 people turned up, including, naturally, loads of children, and they had a ball. We Fruitbats decided, in keeping with the pastoral setting, to dress as romantic shepherd and shepherdess, all rustic-like - you believe that?! No, Dave looked the ticket greeting people at the gate in his charity-shop purchased, fruit-motif dress (!); black and red striped socks; size 13 red clowns baseball boots; clown bald head with tufts of red curly hair and - naturally - red nose. Jeni preferred the subtler approach and simply slipped into the mountain gorilla cossie Dave had had for the Dianne Fossey charity walk last year, with an oversize pair of clown’s spectacles, assuming the identity of Hairy Harriet, as she needed to reassure some of the smaller children that she was definitely a friendly gorilla. She maintains it was part of her weight loss programme, since it was astonishingly hot under there, it being one of those few beautiful days (thank goodness; at least thank goodness for the event as a whole, though Jeni was hoping a sharp frost might unexpectedly descend to cool her down).
The percussion 'circle' with twenty or more children from a few months old to 13 or 14 (plus several over 30!) was - well, anarchic is the best way to describe it! But they enjoyed rattling, shaking, banging, plinking, twanging, tinging, bashing, thumping and generally making a noise. And yes, the Hang did come out, for those of you who have met Dave’s odd inverted steel pan-like instrument. Much fun was had by children of all ages! And Sarah also managed to raise £120 for charity at the same time. But my, isn’t it exhausting being silly for hours on end? - we were pooped!
A couple of nights later a minor disasterette struck. The weather had rather reverted to type after managing to give us a beautiful day for the fete, and the rain and wind was revisiting. In fact the wind got up to stormy proportions one afternoon, and continued blowing hard as the night went on. We didn't think too much about it, nonchalant veterans of Big Winds in Southern Europe that we are, until Sarah was hammering on our door at 6am. A total collapse of the Yurt (sung to the tune of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ - ! If you like, it’s not compulsory but it scans perfectly!). Having withstood the winds all night (the Yurt’s very robust), a freak squall picked Yog (YogYurt - !) up and dumped her unceremoniously on her side, resulting in much splintering of roof poles, a mish-mash of canvas, Tibetan prayer flags, sarongs and other wallhangings, and all the drums, percussion instruments and clown accoutrements which had been inside, buried underneath!
Sarah had witnessed it all; she’d gone out to try and rescue the caravan awning which was virtually shredded, had returned to the kitchen to make a cuppa, and seen what looked like a mini-twister heading across the field, mangling the awning a bit more, taking huge branches off the trees and finally heading for poor Yog. So out rushed Dave into the early morning rain, wind still blowing vigorously, and started the salvage operation.
As Tim (take a bow, Tim!) commented ‘Yog hurt’ - ! (He also pointed out that it could have been worse; if the motorhome had broken down as well at the same time, it would have been a case of ‘Van ill, Yog hurt’ !)
The good news is that Dave’s been effecting repairs, and with cyber-support from Ian and Sharon, our lovely yurt-makers up in the North East, has been whittling new roof poles from local coppiced wood. Something else to add to his extensive CV, eh? 'Ability to select appropriate wood and individually hand-whittle yurt roof poles from reclaimed chestnut, ash and birch.' 'Is there no end to the man’s talents?', asks an astonished Jeni, spreading the colourful wall-hangings out in the sun for their final drying. So happily Yog is back in commission - just as well, as she has quite a rigorous programme ahead of her for the summer and has bookings for several events! (Including of course the Wales weekend in July! The very latest is that Yog is back in commission you'll be glad to know! Special news for you lot ....)
A quick chicken-update, if you'll bear with us. We were pleased to see that the hens had obviously been practising their formation foraging while we’ve been away over the winter, and they fan out across the fields in an excellent display of synchronised rootling when they come out of their shed and run in the mornings. (Jeni ends up a bit like the Pied Piper at 6.30 or 7am, with six plump chickens waddling after her, Mr Tiger the cat clawing up her dressing gown for a cuddle and Sox rushing after her with a stick that needs throwing, urgently!) Jeni, for whom these spells camping on Sarah’s land are her first experience of full-on chicken management, has been quite upset about that natural phenomenon of the pecking order. Even among these happy hens who have several acres on which to wander freely, there are always one or two at the bottom of the hierarchy who get their tail feathers pecked out when there's a bit of a ruck in the hen-house overnight. She wanted to do an assertiveness workshop with poor Mrs Pecky-Botty and encourage her to stand her ground against The Head Girl. Dave and Sarah assure Jeni that if Mrs Pecky-Botty climbed up the pecking order, one of the others would soon take her place at the bottom. It’s all less of the Cheeky Girls (Touch My Bum) and more of the Chicky Girls (Peck My Bum) - you probably have to have a female aged between about 6 and 13 in your life to fully appreciate that one!.
Nature raw in tooth, claw and beak, eh? And it doesn’t end there; the blood-lust continues. Mr Tiger and Sox team up into a grisly duo and have been culling the local baby rabbit population - Tiger, 14 years old but still fleet of paw, grabs 'em and eats the heads, leaving the rest as a tempting morsel for the slower and more galumphing Sox - urgh! It’s even more unpleasant when you find a couple of these light snax waiting for Sox in the utility room, where he and Mr Tiger sleep overnight. Averil was predicting ‘Revenge of the Bunnies’ since the hill behind us is like Watership Down and thus she felt sure that at some point, sheer weight of bunny numbers would be able to bully the grisly duo into a truce.
We’ll leave you with one final vignette to illustrate how far we are now divorced from ordinary mortals. Imagine, if you will, Jeni at the hairdressers. Her hair is washed by an impossibly slender young woman (ISYW) with four inches of midriff showing (with pierced navel, naturellement) and make-up applied by trowel. ISYW takes Jeni over to stylist's chair, asks what she'd like to drink and then, grabbing an armful of copies of Vogue, Cosmo, Hello! and Woman’s Own checks 'Magazine to read, at all?'. 'No thanks' says Jeni reaching into her bag, 'I've brought my own', and pulls out her May edition of Motorhomes Monthly!! How far have we come ...?!
On that note, Keep well,
Hugs
Dave and Jeni
xx