The rain is hammering on the caravan roof and my head is thumping. Snuggling back under the duvet I try to block out the sound of the rain and my wine infused headache. God what a good night it was though.
In between heavy showers the sun tries to peek through the clouds. My phone goes ping, it’s Aaron and Vicky from Caravan Chit Chat Mr and Mrs Chitchat. They are on site with us at the moment and they seem to have a bit of cabin fever, do we fancy a few hours out after lunch? Of course we do!
We all bundle into The Volvo. The Boss, also known in his past as ‘Itinerary Man’ is at the wheel, we leave our afternoon agenda in his capable hands.
Frome is our first port of call. It’s finally stopped raining and we seem to have the town to ourselves. It’s a strange area, pubs, in the main, seem to close between 3pm and 6pm, it’s now 3pm on a Sunday afternoon and all the shops are closed. It’s like stepping back into the 1980s. Perfect really, no one here, Mrs Chitchat has the camera out and the shutter is going ten to the dozen.
We wander round absorbing the quirkiness of the buildings and spectacular window displays.
The peeled marrow bobbing around in the water fountain has us in stitches, who thought to peel it and put it there?
We are enamoured by Cheap Street and Catherine’s Hill, a steep, cobbled artisan street that is more interesting when it’s open and buzzing with people but quite picturesque today with its damp cobbles and quaint shops. We mooch around with the shutter of the camera whirring behind us catching the quirkiness of it all. After days of rain the water is fast flowing down the centre of Cheap Street, again, minus people, a perfect photo opportunity.
Heading back to the car and Itinerary Man is on a mission, things to do, places to go. The Volvo purrs as it pulls away, just as Itinerary Man curses at someone ahead of him in the road.
Swinging into a parking spot alongside the brook that runs through Nunney, a historic village dating back to the Doomsday Book. We do love a bit of free parking.
Today, all is quiet apart from the ducks quacking whilst appearing to float effortlessly on the fast flowing water. In the centre of the village is a beautiful moated castle. Free of charge, Mr Itinerary Man knows all the free attractions, we wander in oohing and aahing as we round towards the entrance of the castle, where the drawbridge would’ve been is now a bridge allowing us access inside the ruins.
I’m spitting feathers now and we head to local pub for a pot of tea, comfy sofas and a couple of dog biccies for Ronnie and Max.
Itinerary Man’s head is whirring, aware that the light will start to fade soon, were bustled out of the pub and back to the car. Destination, The Westbury White Horse.
Again, another free attraction. Somewhere we visited years ago when our Jellybeans were little, they loved seeing from afar and then being able to tickle its ear when we got closer. Today, we park in the free car park and struggle to undo the car doors. The wind fights to keep us in the car but we assert our strength, fling open the doors and head into the gale that ensues. The blasts are so strong we struggle to walk, one step forward and two steps back. The dog’s ears flying in the wind like kites. I’m sure if we had bat winged jumpers on that we’d be able to take off.
We struggle to breathe, partly through laughing as we’ve never experienced anything like it. Taking the muddy, chalky path towards the horse, we pass other nutters also out in this typhoon. We almost expect to end up Wizard of Oz style in some far flung corner of Wiltshire. One walking boot in front of the other and before I know what’s happening I’m flat on my arse, skidding down the path. Not one ounce of concern for the middle aged woman struggling to get up, just loads of hysterical laughter carried across the valley on the wind.
Now that’s a bench with a view.