Logos and Longleat

The next trip is planned. Unlike our spontaneous trips to Europe, where we just plan the first night and then wing it, this year we’re staying in the UK, so everything has had to be booked in advance. Apparently, this is what responsible adults do. I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with it.

Now all we have to do is prep the packing and the cat.

Randomly stuffing things into a bag for life ready to drop off at the caravan got me thinking about our blog. After the trauma of losing our much-loved logo a few years ago, we’ve been logoless. Unlike when our first logo was designed for us, the internet now makes these things easy to create. Pop a few words into the old internet and Bob’s your uncle.

It took a bit of playing around, as our blog is no longer strictly caravan-based; it covers whichever way we decide to travel. So it only seemed right to add our different modes of transport. Caravan, tandem, plane… all that’s missing is a picture of me dragging a heavy suitcase behind me.

So, the day came to hit the road. The caravan was hooked up, the bikes were on the roof of the car, the cat settled in the back seat, and dark skies loomed overhead. We were hoping to outrun the rain. Of course, we didn’t manage it. This is Britain. The rain had probably left before us and was waiting just up the road.

Heading towards the A303, the heavens opened. Thank goodness for the shower caps on the bike seats. Nothing says “seasoned cyclists” quite like turning up with floral shower caps stretched over your saddles.

We made the journey in good time with no cat-astrophic events. Oscar remained remarkably calm, which either means he’s an excellent traveller or he’s silently plotting something.

We have returned to the Longleat Caravan Site that we worked on during our 2nd year as site Wardens.

As we dropped the legs on the furthest pitch from the toilet block possible, the clouds parted and beautiful blue skies peeked at us from beneath the trees. Setting up in sunshine is always welcome. It’s amazing how much more enthusiastic you can be when you’re not wrestling an awning in a gale.

Oscar yawned wearily, did a lap of the caravan just to check that it was set up to his liking, then flopped onto the seat bathed in sunshine. Clearly, the accommodation had passed inspection. We’d received the coveted four-paw rating. I have no idea what possessed him to choose this as a comfy bed.

As if by magic, the sea lions must know we’re back, as they shouted excitedly from within the safari park. It’s funny how you don’t realise how much you’ve missed hearing the sounds of the wildlife. It’s like coming home, where our neighbours happen to be slightly more exotic and considerably louder.

After we’d eaten, we decided that rather than lock the bike up we’d go for a spin. Pointing the nose in the direction of an old country pub we used to frequent, we chugged up the hills. We’d forgotten just how hilly it is around here. Funny how your memory edits out the bits where your lungs are trying to escape through your chest.

We were last here in 2019 when we worked on this site for a ten-month season. This is our first trip back since then.

Anyway, I digress. Chugging up the hill out of the Longleat estate, we spy The Horse and Groom in the distance. Steve is looking forward to a nice cold pint. Upon arrival, we’re gutted to see it standing there looking very sorry for itself and decidedly out of action. A very large “To Let” sign confirms our disappointment.

Steve took it surprisingly well. By which I mean he stared wistfully at the empty pub for a moment before muttering something unrepeatable and getting back on the tandem.

Never mind, there’s bound to be another one not too far away.

On we pedal, passing a few pubs with their doors firmly bolted. Of course, it’s Monday. They obviously close on Mondays, just like they do at home. Who knew we’d end up on grand pub crawl of closed pubs.

Cycling through Frome town centre, memories of our time living here come flooding back. It’s now early evening and there’s very little in the way of refreshment establishments that look fit for two bedraggled adults on a tandem.

Heading back, we’re treated to a spectacular view of Longleat House and its estate just as the sun starts to settle behind the trees. The sort of view that almost makes you forget your desperate search for a pint.

Back at the van, I’ve got the kettle on before he’s even taken his helmet off. I’m spitting feathers. Oscar opens one eye and looks at me as if to say, “Keep the noise down, please. I’m trying to sleep.” It’s a hard life being driven around the country and waited on hand and paw.

After a well deserved cuppa we set off on the hike to the toilet block. Taking in the site and remembering every time we mowed the grass, cut the hedges and cleaned the toilets. Oh how I’m glad we don’t have to do all that again. I am surprised to see things on site still that we added. It makes me smile to see my artwork and handwriting seven years on.

That’s the end of day one of our little road trip, and I must say, I am looking forward to falling asleep listening to the roar of the lions and the howling of the wolves.

Assuming, of course, Oscar approves of the arrangements.