3 May 2016 Lakeside Fishing and Camping, Onehouse, near Stowmarket, Suffolk.

Yesterday was to have been of little account apart from marking our first entertainment attempt, however events became more complicated than planned, some in a positive way, some not so much so.

Daffodils at Ickworth Park

Our National Trust membership cards had eventually arrived at Margie’s address and she passed them on to us last night while we were at hers, but unfortunately the reference book and the car sticker had either been overlooked or were still to come. So we decided that today we would set out for Ickworth House just the other side of Bury St Edmunds and see if we could pick these up from the National Trust office at the gate.

We had visited Ickworth House last year when we were here (see the blog posting 19 March 2015) and then spent the day exploring the house itself. Chris’s brother John works there as a volunteer, turning up once a week to do maintenance jobs when his time is not demanded by relatives from the Antipodes, and I am sure the Trust is most grateful for his skills acquired over a long career in the building industry.

Even though the hour was early, streams of cars were pouring in through the entrance driveway and staff were busy directing visitors to appropriate parking areas. We waved our new cards at the gatekeeper and soon found our way to the office where we explained our predicament. “No problem”, the helpful woman said, or something like that anyway. Soon we were armed with a new membership pack complete with all the documentation we had been missing; all good so far.

The Churchyard of Ickworth's St Mary's

It had not been our intention to hang about but the scene was most attractive, the daffodils here still in bloom, or at least further from dying than those at Nowton Park the previous day. We set off on the 2.2 kilometre Albana Walk, under ancient oaks and yew avenues, the paths lined with box hedges in various state of repair, then branched off toward St Mary’s Church, Ickworth’s own place of worship where the remains of dozens upon dozens of Herveys and Marquis’s and Marchioness’s of Bristol lie either under the cold stone floor of the church or out in the graveyard under lopsided stones. We spent some time in the Church which has stood on the site for over nine hundred years although it has been subjected to restoration work a couple of times in the last hundred years or so.

Tulips in the Walled Garden above the Canal Lake

From there we had to check out the Walled Garden, the Canal Lake (on the River Linnet) and the gardener’s cottage before heading back toward the House and seeking a sheltered spot for our lunch. By this time the car parks were overflowing and there were families everywhere, many with dogs, and some of whom left their dog droppings on the parklands for whatever reason such people think this acceptable.

I was delighted we had stayed longer to explore further these magnificent parklands, and I would dearly love to return some other time and walk other areas, particularly those that are currently fenced off for the ewes and their new lambs. The Park covers a total of 1,800 acres, a pretty phenomenal area to be gifted to the National Trust, but truth be told, the gift was in lieu of death duties in 1956. Better to be remembered as a generous donor than someone unable to meet their financial obligations.

From there we drove back to Stowmarket to shop for the evening’s  dinner; we were reciprocating the previous night’s invitation, by having Margie come dine with us. She had the dubious honour of being our first dinner guest here in this caravan. For those who have had the equally dubious honour of dining chez nous in the last couple of years, you will be familiar with the menu; Poulet à l’estragon, pommes de terre dauphines with green beans followed by some disgustingly decadent chocolaty dessert and (horror of horrors!) instant coffee. 

Lakeside Camp over the Bank Holiday weekend

Shopping was successfully done, free Bank Holiday parking appreciated and homeward bound we came. I stepped out of the vehicle, turned to open the rear door to extract our purchases and found it locked. Chris had already moved to unlock the caravan. “I would have carried more,” I said, “had you not locked the door”. 

“I have not”, he retorted. I shrugged and left him to sort the rest of our stuff from the car himself. But alas, the car was locked and alarmed and the keys lay teasingly on the driver’s seat, within site but beyond reach. The spare was in the centre console of the car. Now all I can say is that I am glad it was Chris who did this and not me; matters would have been quite different, as any wife will know.

The Shepherd & Dog Pub opposite the Lakeside Camp

After a long silence, he came in and retrieved a little notebook in which he had written two pages of notes and numbers relating to the car. The last entry related to the fact that we were covered by the RAC (Royal Automobile Association); he rang the number and was informed that someone would be here in about an hour and a half. One hour later, we were telephoned and told that someone would be with us in an hour and a half. Meantime the cream, butter, frozen desert, frozen beans, bottle of white wine and other bits and pieces all lay in the boot of the car. Dinner would be late, and at this point in time, we thought it possible that we might have to dine across the road at the pub. After another call and further quarter hour delay, the friendly RAC chap turned up to save the day. And so with all good stories, this ended up with a happy ending; the dinner was edible, or at least everyone was too polite to comment otherwise.  

Today, the final day here beside the lake, was spent fussing about with final arrangements. We popped out to buy yet more provisions to add to our already full pantry, took the two sets of heavy wheel clamps off the caravan, filled with diesel and called on Chris’s oldest niece, Jacky, who had been so very kind and supportive when we were here a year ago, even in the sadness of her father’s passing. Today we were able to admire the changes to the patio, and enjoy a quiet cup of coffee with her, if the word “quiet” fits with the charmingly boisterous wee dogs that call her home theirs. Then home for the last supper beside the lake, now quiet again after all the Bank Holiday campers have gone back whence they came.

Tomorrow we will hitch up and head off onto the busy road to London and then find our way through to our camp. Maps have been consulted, our route planned and the destination acknowledged by Tomtom; surely we will arrive without incident.