After a lazy morning the hall is cleared of caravan clutter that’s been piled up as we remember things over the last couple of days. The Volvo is packed to the gunnels and purrs along nicely on this cold and frosty morning as we head to storage to pick the caravan up. Shivering my bits off, The Boss slowly winds the legs up and hitches up, “no rush, you just take your time”, we hit the road. Destination, Broadway, in the Cotswolds.
The roads blur into each other as the miles rack up. The landscape changes and bricks morph into Cotswold stone. We’ve been to this site many times, one of our favourites as club members and soon the roads are familiar.
The caravan arrives on site filthy, blooming mucky roads of winter, another job for The Boss. The site and the wardens are as we remember. Even the friends, Steve and Andrea, fellow assistants, that are here for the night too, are as we remember them. We were here this time last year with them. Some people are a tonic, as my grandma would say. A gin and chilli night on a very chilly night with lots of laughter is just what the doctor ordered.
The following day and our good friends head off and we take the short, but cold walk into town. Our aim, Christmas lights and winter warming grub. The shops and the trees twinkle and the Crown and Trumpet offer Steak and Guinness pie with Jam Roly Poly and Custard for afters. Stick to your ribs and put hairs on your chest kind of food. All washed down with a pint of real ale. Broadway you did us proud on both counts. Next time we’ll stay longer. I promise.
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