Wednesday 12 June 2013. Day 30.
I woke early in the Camping Municipal at Albert. Damn aging and the need to go to the loo! Kettle on I crawled back into bed. Niki gets out to visit the loo and then makes tea, handing the mugs to me to place on the shelf that I occasional bash into in the night. As the tea cools Niki falls back to sleep. I drink mine as I finish reading “With Haig On The Somme” by DH Parry. I shall be interested to find out more about Parry and his book. Set exactly in the places we have been visiting Parry’s principal character Dennis is a young man who gets into all sorts of scrapes whilst delivering deadly blows to the Germans. It is a Boy’s Own tale for the Great War. Better books have been written but the under pinning facts are all there intermixed with the hokum.
We got away from the site mid morning and headed towards the gilded Basilica, an exact replacement for the one that had been destroyed by shellfire. Immediately alongside the Basilica is the Somme museum – making use of the tunnels that had existed under Albert they museum has reconstructed a series of tableaux to tell the tale of trench life for the British, Germans and to some extent the French. Having now visited three museums in as many days one expects a degree of duplication of information. The recovered objects and descriptive texts lend incredible weight to tableaux. The final stage of the two hundred and fifty metre tunnel is in darkness and a soundtrack aims to provide a sonic representation of life under bombardment, there are explosions and the whistling of bullets. All very effective.
We re-supply at the local Super U and head off into the countryside to Mametz in search of the Devons Cemetery. We found ourselves on unmarked and almost unnavigable roads in what would otherwise have been the middle of huge fields as we followed the markers to the Welsh Memorial – a huge dragon with sections of barbed wire curled in its tongue stood upon a mound. Here the Welsh had taken their fight to the well prepared Germans. We pondered the location and then being practical we had our lunch in the sunshine. Birdsong filled the air.
We set off back to Mametz and then traversed local roads still searching. The Devons were not easy to find, even when we came across the layby that has been constructed to provide safe parking on the busy D923, there is no finger post pointing the way to their Cemetery. It was only when walking along the verge of the D923 towards a nearby small Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery, I chanced to look back and spotted a car parked higher up the slope than the car park. Then I noticed the steps somewhat concealed by trees and ground cover. I recalled the MP3 commentary and shouted to Niki, that is where the Devons are! We didn’t get to the other Cemetery and so we don’t know which unit are to be found there.
As we walked up to the steps four men were heading down from the Devon’s and they confirmed that we were indeed in the correct location. In the conversation that followed we learned that the four were doing a Masters degree in WW1 studies – for their own interest. This visit was one they were doing on a week off from the course. They seemed to be interested in the war poets and spoke about the Devon Lieutenant poet. They also related the story of the Capt who recognised the hazard posed by the danger spot, who then at home made an accurate scale model which could have been used to save lives. Instead the model was used to demonstrate how the artillery would sufficiently soften the Germans up in order that the battle plan could proceed as written. History of the fateful day shows that the modeller was correct and the senior command were tragically incorrect.
Having walked through the dead of the Devon’s we came across an Abbott in the record book. Coming from Basingstoke, this man could have been a relative of Niki’s father. Paul may know more and we shall of course ask him.
We set course for Calais and found ourselves retracing our steps towards Albert passing the aero factory that is the legacy of the French WW1 wooden propellor hub inventor. Then to our happy surprise on the Bapaume road we came across the Tank monument at Pozieres and the Australians monument at Windmill Hill.
I had exhausted one memory card and was working with the less satisfactory N1000. We sated our curiosity and again moved for Calais. We found ourselves more or less moving along the line as we drove up the road. There were signs recording where the front line was on key dates in Sept and Nov. For the lives expended the ground gained seemed paltry. Contrast this with the fact that on date? the Germans withdrew to the Hindenburg line conceding territory, again more evidence of the futile expediture of life to prosecute a war?
Single carriageway became dual carriageway and then motorway and Brigitte was fairly flying along. At around five we encountered the traffic chaos that must grip Lille most days. Eventually we got through it and headed on to Dunkerque and then Calais where we are staying on a large well run ACSI site.
For the cost of a couple of glasses of red wine in the bar we gained 30 minutes wifi access and saved £30 on our ferry booking. We shall, if we can get Brigitte onboard our P&O ferry be sailing back to UK tomorrow at 10.45 hours!
Harry and Olive, the Lancastria sinking at St Malo, our man’s dad survives meets his ex-gf in Plymouth. Our man was due to fly to Nice to cycle around France for a couple of weeks. French ATC strike against Euro ATC so ferry here and cycle to St Malo. Plucky man, plucky dad who insisted on staying on deck and was a young, strong swimmer who had regularly swum in Solent off the IOW. One of a few surviviors of a sinking by bombing. Our man was also someone who would not have been here today had his forebear not survived a wartime action!
Supper, salad and tuna with baguette and a couple of glasses of red wine precede a game of dix mille and then bed. It is raining again!
Thursday 13 June 2013. Day 31.
When we are travelling on a deadline I seem to always wake early. Today I woke at six thirty. So I’m up and at it getting the tea on, flasks filled with hot water and porridge underway. We breakfast and then tackle the washing up. The wind has stiffened overnight and there are occasional rain showers. Niki ponders the sea state as we think about the ferry crossing we booked last night.
Despite the inconvenience of bird mess which gets onto our shoe soles and needs to be cleaned off we are away by nine. Almost immediately we take a wrong turn on the roundabout outside the campsite gate! Then to compound matters we drive through narrow streets of Guines. Things get easier as we escape into the countryside and head for Calais. We have a laugh as we pass a sign post to Ham. Ham is undergoing roadworks. The road surface is half torn up. Last night we encountered a huge truck that insisted on careening through. We stayed on the good road surface as the driver gesticulated at us for being on the wrong side of the road. We laughed as he fumed. Today we had no roadworks to deal with. At the first roundabout we pick up the motorway which Niki has correctly identified as “the way” to access the port and ferry terminal. We drove straight to the P&O kiosk, paid the balance for our crossing and joined the line to which we had been allotted.
We were lucky to leave earlier than we had initialled booked, time saved! The ninety minute crossing was straightforward despite winds that the Captain described as “fresh”. Onboard there were parties of French school children off to experience England. I recalled the English children we had seen at Thiepval two days ago. The opportunity to travel and experience the life lived across the Channel is now very widely experienced it seems.
We docked on time and lorries, coaches, cars, cars and caravans, motorcycles and camping cars poured off of the ferry. Somewhere overhead footpassengers were also disembarking. The speed of turnaround mimics that of airlines. I suppose this is part of how they compete on cost and service. As we pass through the customs shed a huddle of police and customs officers are wrapped against the weather. They wave us through.
Out of the docks I notice the pot holes in the roadway just before we reach a section of road where a crew is at work carrying out repairs. These must be some of the hardest worked roads in the country. Potholes can be repaired. The additional challenge today is the wind. The van rocks as she gets buffeted from the side. On hills we were slowed despite having an efficient vehicle profile when compared with overcab campers.
We pressed on in the knowledge that as we cleared the coast we should be less wind affected. The speed of traffic in UK I found a challenge. It all moves faster here than in Europe. I saw drivers weaving across lanes in front of me. There were no accidents but the risks people are taking driving are frightening.
The Dartford tunnel was the only delay we experienced. A £2 toll allowed us to cross beneath the Thames and traffic here is intense. A brief period on the M25 and then we head up the M11 towards Cambridge before turning off towards Newmarket and then Mildenhall.
We arrive mid-afternoon and are welcomed by, excited to see us, Baxter and Eric. After petting the dogs, a cup of tea and an hour dozing are a good restorative. Paulie arrives and we take the boys for a walk in the woods. It starts to rain and we take shelter by walking under the trees. As we walk around the woods, we catch up on Paulie and Herve’s news. It has been five years since P&H moved to Mildenhall and the forest has grown significantly.
At the house Herve has returned from work. Herve has bought some pork mince, sweet potatoes and is making what we dub “Farmer’s Pie”. A take on shepherds or cottage pie, this is yummy! We get to work sorting through our post. There is quite a lot to deal with after six months.
We have supper and a bottle of the Rod Easthope NZ sauvignon, a delicious crisp white wine. I had bought a case from Naked Wines some months ago. Before it got too dark, I pulled Brigitte onto the grass alongside P&H fence. This will be our overnight pitch.
The early start, the ferry crossing and the drive in gusty cross winds, this has been a long day and my bed beckons.
Friday 14 June 2013. Day 32.
Herve is off to work at eight and so we get up in time to see him off. Paul is working from home today and so he and Niki catch up as we have breakfast before packing away to leave for Penny’s.
We drive back down towards London, retracing our steps from yesterday. Then we turn onto the M25 and join the clogged traffic lanes that attempt to take traffic around London and her outer environs. It is now Wednesday 19 June and I’m playing catch up. The days since we arrived in UK have been action packed. Sadly, there has been no time to blog. I will though do my best to get my thoughts and recollections down.
The speed and weight of traffic in UK is astonishing when compared to Europe. No where is this made clearer than on the M25. Four lanes of traffic all heading somewhere. Vehicles being constantly jostled for positions in an everchanging race to their driver’s personal destinations.
On the approach to Sunbury, at a roundabout we are stationary in the inside lane waiting for traffic to clear from the right. A huge tipper truck approaches at some speed in our outside lane, darts straight out without slowing, carving across the front of traffic that the driver should have sensibly given way to. There was no accident today but recalling my previous working life I know that large lorries cause all sorts of carnage when they collide with other things. This driver will at some time, I’d confidently predict, be involved in a serious road collision. And for what? How vital is it to get a lorry that hauls rubble and soil from one location to another, to its destination? Daily the radio carries news of accidents on the roads of UK. Perhaps this is the UK equivalent of the US gun madness. That driver was certainly using his lorry like a weapon.
Penny greets us as we park up. The rose at her front door, Penelope, is rampant and beautifully scented. The back garden again with roses in full bloom amongst other colourful planting is looking wonderful. We catch up on news of the Elsa Trust, John and Kate who as we arrive are heading up to Heathrow to meet with Georgina for lunch. Penny has decided to prepare pizzas, using gluten free bases that she has bought. Meantime Niki and I retrieve our suitcase from Penny’s spare room freeing up some space for her and removing the need for us to wonder where in the UK we have left X,Y or Z! With the suitcase and its contents stowed in the van we take lunch.
Penny says that this is the first time that she has made pizza. She goes on to say that making pizza is not the most challenging task. That is as maybe, the results are excellent. I attempt to contact the guy at Cholderton who has a replacement dipstick for the Mk 1. The stick is at his home and so we won’t be dropping in to collect it today.
With our eye on the clock we set off for Hinton Charterhouse (HC). We arrive late afternoon after a frightful spell in some narrow country lanes near Devizes. Brigitte was on her last gasp of fuel, the roads were narrow with high hedgerows on either side. In short a nightmare. Niki got us to a fuel station where, as I was refuelling the van, another customer remarked “You are lucky to find this place open. It’s not always open and you can’t tell from one day to the next when they will be open!” I filled Brigitte to the brim.
HC looks lovely in the sunshine. We pull up in The Glebe and Simon is quickly out of the door to help us put Brigitte onto their driveway. Looking downhill most of Brigitte is off the road at the end of the cul-de-sac. That will do for today! More tea or a glass of cider? I chose cider as Simon and I got chatting about our adventure in Somme country.
We learned about Izzy’s impending move to Leeds where she will become a student at the University. If she gets her final grades for which she is furiously revising. Beyond Leeds Izzy plans to become a primary school teacher.
Harry has her nose buried in a book, the Game of Thrones is taking the country by storm it seems. Harry has season two on loan from a friend and offers it to Niki for us to watch. With only a few hours available before we set off again, Niki passes up the offer but makes amental note to look for the DVD!
Tass is the last to arrive. Hot and sweaty after cycling home from work in Bath.
Supper salmon on a mixed bulgar wheat and pulses bed is delicious. We head off to the pub for a few glasses of Butcombe ale after sinking Simon’s supplies of bottled cider. We chat about things catching up on things that have happened. Simon has got the cycling bug. In the hallway at their house there is a Chris Hoy bike, on loan, which Simon plans to ride at the weekend. It looks like a serious bit of kit and Simon seems serious about cycling to work. Then we hear that his employer has decided that he should be working in offices spread around Somerset. The joys of work.
In the morning we will be off on the road yet again, heading for St Austell.
Saturday 15 June 2013. Day 33.
We breakfast with the Whitbys. I reverse the van out of the driveway edging her tail over the grass verge until she is almost but not quite touching the rear jacks. Then a couple of forward and backward shuffles and we are pointing the correct way and can drive off towards Bath via Midford.
We pass the Bath Natural Memorial Meadow, a new place in which to lay people to rest it seems. I make a mental note to check out their website. We clunk and rumble over the defective roadway that takes us uphill into Bath. Saturday morning traffic heading into Sainsburys is heavy. Across Odd Down and then downhill before turning left into Englishcoombe Lane and parking just past Englishcoombe House. Traffic is whizzing past us and Niki suggests that I take the van and park it in Sainsburys car park whilst she visits Lydia. A sensible option to keep the van safer from accidental damage.
At Sainsburys the customer car parking is overflowing and there is no space into which I can squeeze the van. I notice the “colleague car park” where there are quite a few vacant spaces. Parking there I take the precaution of speaking to the car parking attendant who might impose a fine. A few words exchanged and he says that he is happy for me to park their briefly. I take his advice and inform the customer services desk of my parking.
Inside the store I pick up a few essentials in order that we have some things to eat en route. The hour passes quickly and I am driving back down to Englishcoombe House to collect Niki.
With Siobhan programmed we head off towards Shepton Mallett aiming for the A303 and Cornwall. There is a punishing head wind and occasional showers of rain mean that the roads are wet and the driving is hard. We pull over into a layby to take lunch and a refreshing cup of tea. The van occasionally rocked by the passing traffic. The traditional British experience – snacking in a layby. There are no “aires” in the UK and not being on a motorway means limited opportunities to stop.
The difference in arrival time between hammering the van and taking it steady offers no dividend for the extra fuel that we would burn. I content myself with maintaining a steady pace and the miles tick down. Two hours at the wheel and we are crossing the Cornwall – Devon border at Launceston. Before very long we turn off the A30 for Bugle and St Austell.
We get to mum and dad’s and the kettle goes on in the house. We share our news. Determined to see Jez & Nic before baby arrives, we arrange to have supper with them. Jez pops over and collects us in Nic’s A4.
We get the tour of Nic and Jez’ new house. It is modern and fresh. The nursery is ready for baby. A wardrobe packed with everything that will be needed in the coming days, weeks and months. All that is now required is the appearance of baby. Nic will be glad for him to appear and relieve the pressure, not least on her distorted belly button!
We order Chinese from Kungs in Seymour Road. Nic and Jez discovered the place on their wedding anniversary and have become regulars. The food lived up to expectations. We had good portions of food with taste and texture. We chatted about Grandpa Renals exploits in WW1 and also about the issues in society today.
The combination of food and the lateness of the hour brought the evening to a close and Jez ran us back in his Peugeot van, the exhaust of which leaks smoke into the cab. It was an interesting experience.
Sunday 16 June 2013. Day 34.
Lorraine and Barry are due at mum and dad’s for an early lunch as they will drop off Evie before heading back home where they will be packing their bags ready for Malta and seeing Lara who is in Cornwall for a trial at the County Courts.
Niki and I breakfast at the double and shower and smarten up. I’m conscious and have been for some while that we both need a good haircut, me especially. Perhaps this week we will be in one place long enough to get a trim!
Lorraine and Barry arrive just after Niki and I return to the house from Asda. We’ve been out to buy a Father’s Day card and also a few odds and ends. Last night Jez showed me his GoPro video camera and so we bought him a memory card to use to photograph / video their baby when he arrives. Evie, Lorraine’s CavaPoo bounds into the house as if she owns the place. Barry and Lorraine follow along.
Monday 17 June 2013. Day 35.
Tuesday 18 June 2013. Day 36.
Wednesday 19 June 2013 Day 37.
An early start in order that I could be in court in time to hear the Judge perform his final summing up which starts at ten thirty. Mum and Niki spend the day in Truro in the sunshine as the forecast for tomorrow is rain.
The morning passes relatively quickly. The judge sends the jury out at eleven fifteen. Sitting in the foyer I watch as the defendant smiles at a small child playing with a grandparent. The young man who stands accused of murdering his own eleven month old child appears, to those who have not heard the evidence against him, a genuinely nice caring person. Yet if the evidence is true he is a wickedly cruel and uncaring person. This sends a shiver down my spine as I realise how thin the veneer of society actually is when viewed close up like this.
It is lunch time and I meet Sarah outside the courts. Jacob is here, dropped off by Lesley who is now heading off to her workplace. We have lunch at the Wig and Pen. Niki and mum join us after they have walked back from M&S where they were in the middle of trying on clothes (Sarah correctly guessed).
Sarah whizzes away to take Jacob off to nursery. Mum and Niki head back into town and I go back to sit around the court and wait. The defendant is allowed to spend time in the lobby and garden of the court. He does this with people I take to be family members. He has his solicitor and his barrister who very occasionally speak with him. The other large group of people in the lobby and garden are spoken to from time to time by a female police officer. It is my guess that these people are the baby’s mother’s family or friends or witnesses.
The barristers wander in and through, observing all but saying nothing except to those they know personally.
Between two and four o’clock time drags in the lobby. I wonder what it is like in the jury room. At around four fifteen we get recalled to Courtroom No 1 and the judge explains to the jury that he understands that they have arrived at a majority decision. He then goes on to instruct them that they should go home, speak to no one about the case until they are again under the supervision of the court baliff when they should recommence their deliberations and discussions with the aim of achieving a unanimous verdict. He told them that they should return tomorrow for ten thirty.
It feels anti-climactic and yet also appropriate that no decision has yet been reached. Hawkins remains free at least until tomorrow and perhaps will be acquitted. Such is the lack of information that we have.
I go off to meet up with mum and Niki who have spent the day shopping. We head back to St Austell sharing our stories of the day. For supper we have a salad with chipped potatoes. French Perle de lait for pudding a reminder of our recent routine. Niki mentions that she misses our time spent together in the van. I know what she means.
Then we are off to Sarah’s. A small window of opportunity exists to cut the grass before the weather breaks. Sarah strims the edges. I cut the grass with a rather blunt lawn mower and Niki keeps Jacob amused. On reflection I suspect that Jacob keeps Niki amused.
Then it is bath time for Jacob and there are four of us crammed in the bathroom. Jacob is holding court from the tub. Sarah siezes the monent to clean up the downstairs loo. Four cats kept in close confinement – smelly! Jacob, on hearing the vacuum starts to say ubah, ubah. Later Sarah says that this was almost the first word he uttered when he began to acquire speech. We stop Jacob from clambering out of the bath, so keen is he to investigate what his mum is doing with the ubah.
It is now around ten and Jacob is still holding court. Greased up with a skin emolient he is diving into his wall of teddies. Some of them are now protected against rashes as they pick up a whitish coating. Into a nappy and then pyjamas. Sarah makes it all seem easy as she responds to Jacob and he her. Then into his sleeping sack and we exchange good night kisses.
We’re off back into St Austell. We visit Asda to ensure the Kia has a tank full of fuel. Just in case baby chooses to make his arrival. Then we retire to bed. A few pages of Somme Mud and I’m ready to sleep.
Thursday 20 June 2013. Day 38.
We awake to the sound of rain on the roof of the van. I’d heard Dad’s Mondeo pulling out of the driveway a few minutes earlier. We dive into the house for a cup of tea and the morning ritual. The news is all about the CQC and how they were withholding the names of senior officials who had covered up poor results. Then there was the tragic death as a result of a heart attack of the lead actor from The Soprano’s – James Gandolfini.
I decided that to go to court today would, in my view, be prurient. I’d use the rainy day to complete a few chores. I set off to get a hair cut. Elaine’s couldn’t offer an appointment until the afternoon and so I went across the street to Kath’s and Stacey was cutting my hair within a few short minutes, after I had collected togther enough change to feed the parking meter. The amalgamation of district councils into a council for Cornwall has ensured the almost universal rise of all parking charges in the County. Park for a day in a Cornish car park and you will pay £5.60.
Stacey cut my hair and we discussed where she and her boyfriend might holiday this year. After getting my hair cut I returned in time for lunch. I helped mum prepare some toasted cheese sandwiches using her George Foreman grill. After lunch I loaned dad some screwdrivers to dismantle the bench affair in his shed. I then set off to see where I could get the replacement section of exhaust at best price. It proved to be Mill Auto.
The afternoon weather remained overcast and by the time I had returned to the house it was almost time for supper. At a little after half past four my phone rang. Sarah informed me that the jury have reached a majority decision that Hawkins is guilty of murder. The Judge will sentence tomorrow at noon. I intend to be there. I posted the news on twitter. I wonder what comments will start to appear on topix now the jury have declared their verdict.
Supper, chicken breasts wrapped in bacon served with mushrooms in a white wine sauce was very filling. The strawberries, ice cream and clotted cream slipped down. Sky TV recorded and viewed using the FF button allowed dad and I to enjoy the best bits of a Speedway match between Birmingham Brummies and Poole Pirates? The Brummies, including Chris Bomber Harris won.
A night of tv saw us watch a tv investigation of the murder of a London Iranian family in France, close to the Swiss border. Then something about Ryanair and Easyjet. Finally Niki and I watched a half an hour of Mock the Week. This had us rolling around laughing. All jolly good fun. A couple of glasses of good whisky and eventually to bed and eventually to sleep.
Friday 21 June 2013. Day 39.
Today is the longest day of the year. One can only guess how it will feel for Hawkins and family. Later I will be in court to hear the verdict and witness the various reactions. Niki will get her hair cut and coloured in Truro. It is a grey day. It is not raining at the moment but the roses have big water droplets hanging from their stems and the leaves are wet. It does not feel like mid summer’s day.