Castle View C&CC site, 2 nights 12.50 pn on hardstanding with EHU.
Well this was a bit of a rum weekend. We overshot the campsite on the way there, partly due to the caterwauling duo in the back, and on finding a spot to do a Uey, H promptly had a massive nosebleed which required some attention. We spotted the signage on the way back down and after squeezing through the gates didn’t see any sign of reception so rolled on down the path, past some barnage and what is clearly some kind of graveyard for old caravans (or more likely a storage facility) and entered the camping field itself. I reckoned we should park just clear of the entrance and walk back to the farmhouse, but on disembarking the troops we were met by Mrs Woman, in a rather fetching apron and tea towel accessory and the Little Mester, who, in a parallel universe could have been Maggit – I’ll allow that the dress sense and the mobility scooter were a point of difference, but the scarecrow hair, tab end, carpet slippers and manner were all most precise.
We had our pitch pointed out to us – hard standing, hook up bollard right behind us, water tap one pog down, and the location of the conweniences were indicated. The couple either side of us were friendly, both offering to move their vehicles to give us more room and we set about establishing ourselves.
This was the first outing for the mess tent, and despite nearly a year since we’ve used it, there were no problems in slinging it together. By the time we’d done this, her majesty had already made a friend in the wee girl next door, a bigger girl, with a bike, and no stabilisers (!) and the smallest was content to get under everybody’s feet.
As is the custom, we perused the facilities, which considering the number of campers (about 10-12 “units” mainly caravans of grandparents and grandchildren), were a bit of a stretch. There was a washing up sink, a toilet and handbasin behind one door, and a shower in a separate room. They were clean enough and well supplied with a collection of air freshening products, but I was wondering about the likelihood of getting in every time you needed to. (Our solution to this problem discussed below.)
Looking at the shower, with its tray lined with, ahem, lino, I then decided to keep an eye out for blue paint, window snecks, long bent nails, robbergloss and bratishing, but was sorely disappointed in this regard.
The field was flat, with pitches around the edge and only one way in and out. There were moo cows on all sides, much to the delight of the Bean, along with the occasional passing by of a tractor (red) and windmills at the top of the hill.
Down by Maggit’s caravan there was a big run on one side with chooks and two goats and by the entrance a small coop with baby ducklings, which amused the offspring.
So, to the business of interesting occurrences. Our solution to the bog to camper ratio problem was to test out our recent purchase the “Popaloo”. It’s basically a flat pack plastic box with a John seat and a supply of bags of absorbent powder which work in a similar fashion to the boy’s travelling potty. It comes with a rather fetching shower capesque cover and its own tent, and so we put it together and stationed it behind the mess tent in case of need. Really it’s a good job we did, it saved a few incidents and was ideal for the girl during the night/early morning when nobody wanted to wade through the thick sea mist in the direction of the shed without a flashlight and a foghorn. (Note to self: Flamborough lighthouse! Must check the sequence with me Dad!!)
We enjoyed some top quality nosh on this trip – took a tub of homemade chilli to have on Friday night, nicely weshed down with a bottle of cheap Prosecc for the grown ups,
and Mr Bass came into his own Saturday in the am, furnishing us with Bacon & Egg Banjoes.
Note the lovely, tidy van interior!
Of course we took a day trip to the seaside and did quite nicely. We parked in the leisure centre and got a voucher to the value of our parking fee to use in the centre, which we spent on ice cream, we did al fresco fish & chips at Pier 6,
shelled out an inordinate number of tokens for Madam to go on rides (his nibs was distinctly unimpressed by the noise and general hurly burly)
dipped us toes in the (very seaweedy) water,
spied the Donkey Man, who alas, had no holes in his pockets, and provided a toy ice cream “ban” and a squishy unicorn to placate the anklebiterz.
Also to be noted, interesting occurrence-wise, the knick-knackery in Brid in 2018 is none the poorer for the demise of Nixie Plonks.
We returned mid afternoon, where all the children on site banded together and played, reasonably nicely, trooping in and out of virtually every home. Number 1 child was a credit in looking after the junior nuisance, who only complained of snatching on a handful of occasions and when he got bored of the Barbies and squishies came to sit with his Mam.
We enjoyed a most tasty chicken-based barbecue dinner and dispatched the youths to bed relatively early – earlier than their new friends, much to their disgust.
Final interesting occurrence was the incursion of a random, insolent and stubborn cat, who very nearly peed on our tent/tried to make himself at home in our van and was oblivious to the children’s request for him to leave. He eventually was gently encouraged to go by the sound of running water passing close by his right ear. He did not repeat his visit.
Breaking camp was a longer task this time due to the greater quantity of kit used, and mainly due to our inability to quickly and successfully dismount the ruddy Popaloo tent, so it was a good job Mistress had been excused Pony Club. We left Skipsea at 11.45, and made it back to the Ancestral seat just in time for Yorkshire Puddings. 😉