Identity crisis

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but our new puppy has yet again experienced a change of identity. She was called Millie, then briefly tagged Dora. Eventually the extreme knitter put her foot down and insisted that she was going to be called her first choice of name “Elsie May” This is now permanent as I’ve ordered her name tag and it cost me a whole £2.49.
The addition of Elsie May to the family has meant that our trips away in the campervan have been put on hold until she has learnt her toileting manners. We are doing day trips to get her used to the campervan life. We drove to Stratford on Avon park, beside the river for a picnic, followed by a walk around the town to get her used to people and crowds. She is doing so well and sleeps through the night.

Taking a decent photograph is nigh on impossible as she runs and runs

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Naming a Poo

The saga of what to call our Cockapoo puppy continued. Yesterday she had the name Elsie for 7 hours. That changed to Molly for 4 hours. The list of possible names is endless, but finally after a second family meeting in the evening it was decided to call her Millie. That’s it now no more changes.

Please meet Millie.

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Picking up Poo

I haven’t posted on here for several months due to us not getting the time to get away in the campervan. Family commitments and a heavy dose of man flu stopped our travels. Hopefully that is all going to change and we’ve got some special places in mind to visit.

More wild camping spots on the agenda for us this year and I’ve been told by the Extreme Knitter that we can include a visit to Scotland again.

It was a long time coming, but eventually the extreme knitter has worn me down and we have added a new member to our explorers club.

 

After a quick trip over to Stilton where we met Amanda, we came away with the new addition to the family.

Please meet ?????

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An 11 week old Cockapoo girl, chocolate brown with a white tuxedo and two white socks. Only time will tell how this new setup will work out, but early signs are promising. Ruby has accepted her new partner in crime and they appear to be working together as a team hell bent on causing us chaos. She travelled well on the trip home, which for a campervan dog is pretty important.

As yet we can’t agree what to call her. Amanda, her breeder called her Muffin, but there are four family members all suggesting their favourite names and we can’t agree. Eventually I will have to step in and make an executive decision and over rule the other three. (did you see how easy I said that, as if I’ll have any say in the matter)

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If you’ve read my previous post “Is that a rat” I hoping that now with ???? beside me and Ruby stood outside the various shops, I won’t get those comments.

 

A big thank you to Amanda for providing us with such a beautiful, well mannered puppy.

 

Adventure Overland show 2017

 

 

The end of September again means only one thing for me. My annual visit to the Adventure Overland Show held on Stratford upon Avon racecourse. This year I visited on my own some. The Extreme Knitter had other commitments.

The show gets better each year with many varied trade stands, displays and so many interesting vehicle in the camping and parking area.

As always, I will just leave a few of the photos for you to digest.

Landrover 1963 Series 2A forward control camper

This beauty was a work in progress. It just oozes classic Landy.

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Just a little electrical work that needs tiding up. One of those five minute jobs

wiring

Nice Arse end

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Xplora Overland were showing their new Ford Transit conversion. If only I had the money.

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I’m trying to convince the Extreme Knitter that we need to tow one of these buggies behind our campervan.

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VW  T5s LTs T4s

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Ex Military Trucks were well represented

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Series One Landrovers

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Our Old Series One Landrover

I do regret selling our Series one Landrover. The beauty of hindsight.

Landrover series one

My Cherie Amour

Back in 1969, as a pimply teenager, I used to run a disco on a Thursday night in the village community centre. I was dating the Extreme Knitter at the time, but because she lived 16 miles away and it was a school night, she wasn’t able to come over, so at 10pm every Thursday night I always played our song for her.

Stevie Wonders “My Cherie Amour”.

We celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary this year and I’m going through my mid life crisis (Yes, I plan to live to 126 years old). I started to realise that there is so much we haven’t done or experienced.

I decide I didn’t want to die without having a tattoo. Anyone that knows me will be shocked, because all my life I have been anti tattoo and I could never understand why people would disfigure themselves.

I took a giant risk and didn’t tell the Extreme knitter that I was having one. With help from my Grandson the deed was done.

Here is the result on my upper arm.

 my cherie amour

“Are you still together” I hear you ask.

Hell yes.

After the initial shock at the unveiling and needing to have sit down, she loved it.

I don’t know what I would have done if she didn’t.

Onward to the next adventure.

 

Is that a Rat ?

I’ve mentioned many times on this blog about the annoying problem of complete strangers (mainly Men) making comments about our Yorkshire Terrier, Ruby.

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I admit that we probably look odd, a large man with a very small dog,

It’s usually when I’m stood outside a shop with Ruby on her lead and they walk by making comments like “Is that a rat” or “my dog would eat that for breakfast” It’s irritating that they are dumb enough to think they are the first ones to have ever said that and expect you to find it funny.

I would love to be able to come back with a quick of the cuff reply, but I seem unable to think of anything suitable.

I’m making an appeal to my follower and any random visitors that accidently land on this site.

I want a short sharp retort that would put these Neanderthals  swiftly in their place.

Sarcasm and humour are required, but remember that it has to meet the intelligence level of the perpetrator.

If you can help, please put your retort in the comments box.

No Swearing though.

North Devon

Every now and then the Extreme knitter yearns to be beside the seaside. To pacify her salty sea dog desire, we travelled south towards the North Devon coast taking the long detour on the A361 to avoid the notorious Porlock hill situated west of Minehead.

A road famed for destroying gearboxes, burning clutches and boiling radiators on the way up. Overheating the brakes on the way down.

We stayed at the Camping and Caravan Club camp site at Lynton. With our age concession it cost us £16 per night for a pitch with electric hook up, awning and dog. It was a bargain compared to the site I was looking at just down the road that wanted £35 per night for the same facilities. The site was an oasis in the middle of nowhere with excellent facilities and friendly site managers. During our stay they chatted to campers around the site and were busy with the site up keep.

 

Monday. The sun was shining as we headed down to Lynmouth and after spending what seemed an age searching for a parking spot we were able wander along the quayside to the Lynmouth Cliff railway. The world’s highest & steepest fully water powered cliff railway transported us up to the town of Lynton. Lynton just happened to have a wool shop (I don’t know how she finds them)

http://www.cliffrailwaylynton.co.uk/history/

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The day was turning into a rail extravaganza as I pulled into the Woody Bay train station. The Lynton – Barnstable Railway runs steam engines along a one mile stretch of narrow gauge track to Killington Lane

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http://www.lynton-rail.co.uk/page/visitor-information

 

Tuesday, it rained and rained, so we set off for drive around north Devon. First port of call was the Atlantic village shopping centre near Biddeford as it had a roof, but we hadn’t planned for the exclusions of dogs. Ruby and I stopped in the campervan whilst the E/Knitter braved the shops.

We were gutted that we missed out on a walk around the shops and were forced to take a nap. The E/Knitter woke us up on her return to tell us about all the bargains she had bought. Ruby and I watched bleary eyed as she modelled various tops and items of clothing.

We left the shopping centre and drove north towards Ilfracombe. It was raining when we rolled into the near empty Quay side car park. We only stayed a short time then returned to the campsite. We had seen a lot of Devon through the campervan windows, but decided that Ilfracombe needed to be seen on a dry day.

 

Wednesday, The rain had cleared and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. We were breaking camp to return home, but as the morning started to warm up we decided to pack and then go back to revisit Ilfracombe in the sunshine. The Quay side car park was certainly busier than yesterday. We found a spot by Verity, the intriguing statue by Damien Hirst. It’s large, highly detailed and a bit of a jaw dropper.

http://www.damienhirst.com/verity

Verity on Tuesday in the rain

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Verity on Wednesday in the sunshine

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We hadn’t had any breakfast, so we had an early lunch in a restaurant that allowed dogs in. (it was noticeable the amount of eating establishments in Devon that allowed dogs).

Fish and chips always taste better when eaten near the sea.

After wandering around Ilfracombe for a couple of hours time was getting on and unfortunately we needed to make tracks towards home. We were driving up the M5 motorway and  getting peckish, so we pulled into a Subway sandwich bar, bought a sub and headed of towards Weston Super mare.

The promenade was empty, so we parked up on the sea front and ate our Subway evening meal. The calories needed to be burnt off and a walk up the prom to the town helped reduce them.

Weston humour

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As usual Ruby and I sat on a bench outside Marks and Spencer waiting while the E/Knitter searched for more bargains. I tend to meet a varied cross section of people when I’m hanging around with Ruby. Complete strangers will approach me and talk when I’ve got Ruby. On this occasion a young man came up to tell me about his Yorkie/Poodle cross. He had pictures on his phone and although I didn’t say it to him, it looked like a sheep with a Yorkies head attached, sort of a cloning experiment gone wrong.

Next passerby was an obviously gay man who walk by several times eyeing up Ruby or probably me, wondering if I was of the same persuasion. I must look a bit camp with a small Yorkshire terrier on a lead. I need a sign that says “I’m holding this dog for my wife”

My last visitor was an elderly gentleman who was confused and just wanted to chat about his collie puppy that had died and the local bus service.

No young ladies or even old ladies billing and cooing over Ruby.

We walked back to the campervan along the beach to give Ruby the chance to have a run around. I said to the E/knitter that I thought a man was taking our photo. Don’t be silly she said he’s taking a photo of the pier.

It wasn’t until we left the beach that we spotted a sign saying no dogs on the beach between May and September, punishable with a £75 fine. By now I expect our mug shots are posted around the town as Weston Super Mares most wanted.  Omg!! We are now hunted criminals.

The Scene of the crime

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We all turned our collars up and drove out of town as fast as we could.