Sunday, 22 May 2016

HOVERINGHAM

With the first night of adventures behind us we woke up in the morning with a fresh air of anticipation and excitement.

We had both slept like a log, the bedroom so dark, warm and comfortable. We opened the blinds and were greeted by glorious sunshine and utter silence. Apart from a smoke alarm emanating from one of the nearby vans. I was off duty and thought, without a fire engine and four other blokes who actually knew what they were doing, I was of little use. So I convinced myself it was a little birdy chirping.


We left the sleepy campsite early before anyone else was awake and restocked our fresh water on the way out. This proved slightly easier than the previous night's attempt but still resulted in an awful lot of unnecessary spraying and dashing about. As we drove off we felt we had earned our rite of passage to be a level one, day two camper connoisseurs... just!


I knew a nice little spot by the river Trent, just south of Hoveringham. We headed off in Bernie, everything rattling and clanking about as we had yet to master the art of packing up correctly before  driving. We parked up, with the side if the van facing the early morning sunshine and got the kettle on. Tea and crumpets, birds singing, Cows mooing, fresh breeze blowing, a perfect place to be.


We took a nice walk north following the river, heading towards a little village called Fiskerton. I knew there was a nice little pub there right next to the water. Anyway I underestimated how far we would have to walk. The route was lovely but our old dog Tink soon started panting and looked like she had already spent a few hours in the pub... on the vino! With encouragement she pushed on.


We came across a WW2 war memorial at the edge of a field near the river. Two stone monuments with inscriptions. Apparently in January 1945 a Lancaster bomber crashed while flying in low cloud. All the crew were lost. Another Lancaster crashed in the same area in May of the same year.




We eventually got The Bramley at Fiskerton and had some lovely grub. I would thoroughly recommend it.


We then headed back to the van and realised it really was too far for an old whippet. 9 miles in total. Back at the van Tink need some loving. She was broke and really unsure what had just happened.


WHERE WE WERE


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