Musical Memories

A song came to mind this morning that brought back memories of long ago, prompted thoughts of many episodes of life down the years, and also echoed some of this week's events, too.  So, what was this powerful melody?  Written by Joni Mitchell in 1967, it was called 'Both Sides, Now'.  The lyrics, as I've just discovered, are easily available on the internet; Mr. Google knows where. I won't dwell on thoughts of the distant past, save to underscore the all-embracing lines,

"So many things I would have done,

But clouds got in my way."

Clouds can take many forms in teenage, from the comforts of home, to the comparative safety of adventures in one's home town, to the problems of maintaining communication when travelling and, in many cases, simply a shortage of money.  Some of these clouds throw shadows a long way into adulthood, too.

This week has seen my first trip of the year in the motorhome.  I've tried out a scheme I discovered during the winter months called Brit Stops, by means of which the motorhomer can park overnight in certain locations free of charge, on the understanding - implied, but not enforced - that there will be social and/or financial interaction with the providers of these locations. Since many of them are public houses, this presents a convenience rather than a problem, and the whole deal boils down to swapping self-catering on a paid-for site for the enjoyment of a pub meal.

Obtaining a mobile Wi-Fi hub last year, along with getting a powerful laptop, has all but driven away one of those clouds I referred to, that of maintaining communication.  However, until I get that solar panel on the roof (unlikely any time soon!), I still need electricity - even if only intermittently - to keep it all running, and that's something that isn't available on the average pub car park!  I was lucky on Monday night to be on a meadow next to a rural pub at a crossroads, where four conventional electric hook-up points have been installed, so my situation was little different from a campsite.

Some of these pubs like you to phone up during the day; either they have only one space, so once it's filled you know you must look elsewhere, or perhaps it just makes their planning a little easier.  Monday's Red Lion at Revesby was one of these.  Tuesday was different.  No notice was required at a second Red Lion, this time at Epworth; they have a large car park but, of course, no electricity.  I had planned with this in mind and intended to be on a campsite on Wednesday to re-charge all my equipment there.

Gainsborough Old Hall

The River Rase at Market Rasen

The plan so far had met with success.  I had fitted in all I wanted to see, including Gainsborough Old Hall, and the Old Rectory at Epworth, childhood home of John and Charles Wesley and their many siblings. Wednesday found me in the most northerly bits of Lincolnshire as I went to look at Normanby Hall. My planning hadn't fully recognised the different opening times of various parts of the estate - gates at 9.0, cafe and gift shop at 10.30 and the house at 1.0 - so I turned up at 9.30 and found myself faced with a three-and-a-half hour wait!  This was an unacceptable delay, so I re-planned the rest of my week, and moved on to Market Rasen.

Nearby was the site I chose to stay for the night, Walesby Woodland.  It wasn't the one I'd planned, it was simply in what was now the right place.  It was expensive and, after correcting a misunderstanding about the electricity, even more so, but it provided what I needed, and the sunshine was brilliant!  My departure was recalled by another line from that song:

"You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know,

Don't give yourself away."

As I drove through the barrier and out onto the road, a smile played upon my lips.  I was free to go wherever I pleased; many of those on the site had clearly established themselves there for the long haul ... one even had potted shrubs standing at the corners of his caravan!  It's all a matter of taste, I suppose.

This week and its planning have provided an example of a new kind of motorhoming.  Last year, sites were planned months in advance,  This time nothing was planned; there was the freedom to come and go as I pleased, and to re-jig the outline when appropriate.  The same freedom came into play the next day too.  My re-location had reduced the distance I had to drive on Thursday morning, and by the afternoon, plans - such as they were - were completed, and I debated the value of staying another night at a pub with no beer electrc hook-up.  (Wrong song remembered there!)  I was not only free to go somewhere else, but free to go home if I should choose.  I did so choose, and was home by twilight, about eighteen hours earlier than planned.

It meant that I had a whole day yesterday to restore things to normality and today can ring bells for St George's Day.  This evening I shall be attending a concert in honour of the Queen's 90th birthday with a friend from my schooldays.  Another verse from that song is (partly) relevant:

"But now old friends, they're acting strange, 

They shake their heads, they say I've changed 

Well something's lost but something's gained 

In living every day."

We've both changed a lot since those days; both have borne the ups and downs of life ... and love ... and have come through it all stronger than we began.

I'm sure it will be an evening to remember.