Nashoba, Base Green, Suffolk

     

The days have passed,  one pretty much the same as the next. The scope of work for The Bungalow’s redecoration expanded and with it the workload, although Chris was happy to be of some practical assistance to his family. I did spend the early part of one morning on the job, so that I could travel back in to Bury St Edmunds with Chris as he went for more paint and take the opportunity to do some supermarket shopping. (Having my name absent from the insurance policy for economy’s sake, does have its drawbacks.)

In Elmswell, I checked out progress of the work, and decided that my sister-in-law’s tastes differ greatly from mine, but then I had come to that conclusion some years ago. I hoped she was happy with her choice of very strong colours for the bedrooms, and the cover up of the white paint which had previously provided a bright and spacious interior. Had Chris had a hand in purchasing the paint, he may well have convinced her to choose softer shades. But then, what would I know? 

The good weather of the Bank Holiday weekend gave way to showers and cloud cover but temperatures did remain around 20 degree. I should have taken the opportunity to go walking every day across the fields, but while my legs were willing, my brain was not. Instead I applied myself to trip planning and consuming several novels. 

But I did head off one day in a half-hearted attempt to reach a field between Wetherden and Elmswell, a field full of poppies which according to Chris was more vibrant each day. Alas I ended up wandering about wheat and fava bean crops, along muddy bridleways and up between farm buildings where I am sure I was trespassing. I startled a small herd of rabbits and a flocks of crows all intent on offering their own brand of devastation to the new crops.  Apart from these vandals and several dozen horses each in their little fenced off agistment plot, I saw no one to talk to or ask the way. By good luck rather than good management, I managed to find my way back to familiar scenes arriving home with the tread of my boots heavy with mud. Later that day I learned there is in fact no off-road pathway from here at Base Green through to Elmswell, and I am not willing to walk along this busy road, a road narrow with high hawthorn hedges and not even a nettle filled ditch to jump into if confronted by heavy agricultural machinery. 

The next day was spent caravan bound, waiting for the forecasted violent storms to arrive; they did not however my frustration was lightened when I learnt on Chris’s return that the decorating work was now complete and we could start to look forward.

So this morning we telephoned through our booking to our next camp on the west side of London before heading off to Bury St Edmunds to attend to a massive bag of laundry. On the way we called by Elmswell, stopping to photograph the poppy fields and some of Margie’s new neighbours' charming houses before sorting out the tools for John’s collection. In Bury St Edmunds Chris dropped me off and sought a haircut from his tried and true Bury Barber; he was foiled by a female hairdresser who spent far too long snipping away with a pair of nail scissors. He picked me up fuming about the long winded operation as we popped into Sainsbury’s to fill with diesel in readiness for our departure on Monday.

Perhaps it was the residual frustration about the barber or perhaps the frustration at the long wait and queues at the pump, but whatever it was, there is really no excuse for filling a diesel tank with petrol. Oblivious to his mistake, we regained the home route only for the engine to cut out as we reached the slip road onto the A14. Both of us imagined this to be a repeat of the problems we had two years ago, an issue that we had thought corrected by the replacement of the delaminating fuel tank.

Fortunately, and it is the positives one must hang on to, the rough looking dude in the tow truck that turned up from Peterborough an hour and a quarter later, suggested it might be a question of the wrong fuel; the till receipt confirmed that. This moko decorated Samaritan delivered us to a spot outside the Bury Kia garage as we asked. The Sorrento was set down on the side of the street and he drove off. Alas the man on the desk at the dealership told us he couldn’t fit us in until 20^th June; unbelievable!

After a moment of hopeless helplessness, we phoned the AA again, and were soon assured matters could be remedied, for a fee. We were between a rock and a hard place; we accepted the terms and prepared ourselves to wait a further ninety minutes.

The good news of the day was that Chris had completed the redecoration project,  that we had booked forward, that I had dried the laundry at the Coin-op so we didn’t have a car full of wet washing, that we had the day’s newspaper for entertainment and most importantly we had signed up to the AA just a week ago. We set off on foot down the road to the Sainsbury supermarket and dined simply at the café before hunger stretched tempers. On the way back to the car, we were hailed from the street; John was passing by and offered a further sounding board for our concerns. While sharing the details with him, the AA man rang and said he was on the way, and sure enough he arrived before scheduled time and after a further three quarters of an hour we were back on the road.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we eventually returned to our camp; it had been a rather strange day. And another positive; we enjoyed excellent weather all day, something that bodes well for our last weekend in Suffolk.