Lakeside Fishing & Camping, Onehouse, near Stowmarket, Suffolk

Several days have passed since we arrived in the country of our forefathers, and while we had promptly sorted ourselves out in our caravan, we spent the rest of our days concentrating on regaining our health. International flights are notorious breeders of disease, and despite the quantities of Vitamin C tablets we had consumed in preparation, we emerged in an unhealthy state.

Just two weeks or so later than when we arrived last year, this spring is so much more advanced. The trees around this lakeside camp are already clothed in their fresh new greenery, and while the daffodils have long gone, the Hawthorne hedgerows are a mass of white and the horse chestnut trees heavily in bloom. The canola, or rape, crops light up the patchwork of fields with their brilliant yellow flowers and Suffolk is just as lovely as I remember it. 

We have enjoyed replenishing our pantry from the now familiar superstores of Asda and Lidl, and refuelled at the more economic Sainsbury rather than find ourselves at the mercy of the highway service stations.

We have been entertained, even in our phlegmy state, by family providing sumptuous welcoming banquets and offered acceptable touring conditions by the weather gods. We did call up to lovely Ickworth House to sort our National Trust membership out, but the effort of walking from car park to gatehouse was quite enough.  

The weekend just gone was a busy one for the camp, or at least the café that leases a spot from the lake proprietor. A rally of sports cars congregated at one end of the lake, dozens of fisher people arrived to dangle their lines for the prescribed fee, but ne’er to take home their catches. A band entertained the masses from the café porch, which would have been all too much had one been eating inside, but proved a bonus to us just along the way.

We wake to the geese, ducks, crows, blackbirds and a myriad of other birdlife and I am itching to take Chris out for the walk I did here last year when we were in the process of packing up. If I recall correctly, it was Chris’s turn to be sick then and mine to roam without companion.

So you see it is all before us still, tantalisingly close, but requiring a little self-nurturing in the meantime. (I am so very glad I came with my own little store of antibiotics!)