So fishing was a success. The child, with her father and Grandpa were booked on a 2 hour mackerel extravaganza leaving Whitby at half three.
In the AM we took a trip to see some choo choos to entertain the boy. Mother and I had discussed driving over to Grosmont to see the steam trains whilst the others were piscatorially engaged, but simultaneously she tried to dissuade me due to the North Yorkshireyness of the local highways and me being at the wheel of the beast. It was suggested that we actually take a steam train from Whitby and back again, but the steep price tag soon put paid to that idea as an afternoons entertainment, thus the whole lot of us spent the morning driving over and back again.
1. Nice foresty car park and walk to the village.
2. Soot. Everywhere.
3. Gifts were purchased. KB had his eye on a guard’s pocket watch and whistle.
4. Luncheon in the tea room. Rock hard scone.
6. So much noise from a steam train powering up that many tears were had, ears were held in dismay by adults and children alike.
7. Comedy signage:
We were back in town in time for embarkation and mother and I, accompanied by the smallest returned to the field for a beverage.
Meanwhile, on the water…
The wanderers returned in due course and showed the spoils of their victory over the sea.
It was 6 to team R&C, 3 of which were snared on the same line, and 6 to her father.
Kudos to the child for getting stuck in to the trip, and also to joining in the filleting, cleaning, cooking and eating thereof. They were delish, even KB enjoyed them.
Wednesday the tide had turned somewhat and everyone was a little frayed and emotional. We made plans to go to Egton Show, but the visit was cut short, mainly due to tantrums and Spongebob Squarepants, but there were a number of interesting occurrences as follows:
1. Agricultural machinery was a big hit with the jeune homme, particularly those which had had their wheels shined.
2. Bovine muscle was very much on show, some bulls with alarmingly ample buttocks.
3. All manner of fancy small animals and rodents elicited oohs from Madame, but she wasn’t so keen on the aroma.
5. £5 helium balloon. Wind in wrong direction. Tantrum. Wet pants. Nuff said.
6. V. Narrow exit gate necessitated car park manoeuvres and leaving by the entrance.
7. More pasties out of context. Poor.
8. If you’re looking for the diet frozen yoghurt bar it went out of business last summer.
We felt the need for a bit of sea air so headed to Sandsend to pacify the anklebiterz.
It wasn’t too sunny but they spent a good few hours ordering people in and out of the water, collected rocks, made some friends, splashed their grandparents and generally burnt off all the pent up energy of the morning.
We proceeded into town for a celebratory fish and chip which was most satisfactory
and then adjourned back to camp for a spot of light dismantling. Mother and Dad initiated military style awning dismounting, along with the customary shouting. J cloths were out in force.
We left the mess tent up till the morning, it was housing the whirligig to prevent dew incursion, although the majority of items had been aired off on mother’s heated towel rail. (La di dah).
All in all our packing away ran smoothly, that is, until such time as we had to deal with the Popaloo tent. All other packing away paled into insignificance alongside the time and effort needed to deal with this awkward piece of kit.
Would it go away? Would it ‘eck as like. Eventually after trying 64 different methods it just somehow did it. And that was that.
Or was it?
There is the small matter of the conveniences to discuss. Further to my earlier comments I was left uneasy drawing conclusions as mother had not deigned the facilities worthy of her patronage. Initially I found them dark and cobwebby but on a secondary visit when I found a light switch I thought I may have been hasty. However, when I saw the domestic handtowels hung behind the door and the fluffy (and grass covered) bath mat in front of the shower cubicle my perturbation was renewed. When 2 days later the towels and bath mat were finally changed for clean ones I mentally totted up the number of people on site (about 20) and the amount of action said rags would have seen for 2 toilets and one shower, and was decidedly unimpressed.
So as I sleepily made my way across the field on our final morning I was surprised to encounter Mother, who had paid a visit, her own khazi having been packed away, and I grilled her for her opinion, and I quote:
Well it’s been a while since they’ve seen any bleach!
I can now rest easy.