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Published: October 21st 2018
Where in the world is Gabby the motorhome parked? On a car park which is virtually empty. The gates have just opened and we are in Bodiam in East Sussex. Yes we are back in the UK but how did we get here? Long story. Change of plans . The sort of thing that happens in motorhoming.
Wind the clock back to 1975. Before I met Glenn time. It was the year of the hot summer . A summer hotter than this year or at least it appeared that way. Or perhaps that is just my memory playing tricks on me. I seemed to think that the grass burned more and turned yellower than this summer. The bowsers were out delivering water due to water rationing. It didnt start off hot . In fact, it poured down with rain. Torrential rain. We had this plan to drive in the rain to Dover or somewhere in that general area . That was if the Mini got us there. Rain and minis never made good bedfellows. The points closed up, the water got in and cracked the distributor cap so rain was not what we wanted to start off our trip. We
intended to take our tent with us - a two man affair with ground sheet. The sides which when touched poured in with rain which soaked us , our ground sheet and our clothes. No air beds . In those days we just slept in the sleeping bags on the hard ground. Being young though the stones didnt hurt your back for a few days. After a few days indentations appeared on our backs .It would be a long time before we invested in a ridge tent with separate rooms . A kitchen with a proper place to sit in . Our kitchen in the small tent was outside on the grass. Nowhere to sit but on that grass. Years later we would have a place to put our chairs. Proper air beds and a decent camping stove with grill and burners. Look at us now - on our second motorhome.
The plan in 1976 was to travel for three weeks across the south of England starting at Dover and ending at Lands End . Bodiam was on the agenda and by the time we got there the sun had come out and refused to go away for months
and months. The long hot summer had just begun. It was seriously hot at the time. I have memories and I remember Bodiam. Or at least I think I remember it. It is funny how your mind plays tricks on you. . We parked somewhere on a car park. I think it was a dirt car park to the front of the castle as I remember walking to the moat and over the bridge into the castle . There wasnt much inside as far as I remember. I began to wonder how it had changed over the last 40 years or so. I was soon to find out.
So here we are on a car park in the castle grounds. The gates were locked when we arrived and we had to sit in the middle of a few queueing cars. There were no gates in the 70's more of a free for all to park. At 9.50 the gates open. My first thoughts plenty of parking , a new visitor centre , a cafe and a book shop. Staples of the National Trust. It didnt look the same as it did in 1976. In fact , the car park
wasnt in the same place and there certainly was no spanking new ticket office, centre for the visitors or somewhere to buy food and NT presents to take home. We parked up waited for the ticket office to open and paid our money to enter the castle which would open at 11.00 Time to spare so we were shown how to use their new parking machines and went for a welcome hot chocolate and blueberry slice. That much is a big improvement.
So here we are waiting for the castle to open but how did we get here? It wasnt the plan when we left the UK a few weeks ago. Two days ago we woke up at our rough and ready campsite. The roosters were wandering round the van. To be fair not too noisy and the peacock was up and about strutting its stuff much to Sions disgust. We were heading for Calais. We had not got much of a plan other than to head out of the village of Bonneval hoping Silly would take us on better roads than the ones she chose to get to the site. Our wishes were her command and indeed she
got us onto the motorway fairly quickly. We found ourselves though on the A10 . A10 - horror we are heading for Paris. A quick reprogramme and we found ourselves skirting the city close to Versailles and before long heading out into normality . Paris outskirts even in the morning early are mad. Glad to leave we started to plan ahead. Train booked we just needed an overnight stop. We pulled up into the last french aire of the trip. It hasnt been too bad of a holiday has it? With hindsight we have seen many wonderful things . They just felt normal and not impressive when we were doing them. Looking back it wasnt a bad holiday. Gabby had travelled over 4000 miles through basically wall to wall sunshine.
We drove into Calais to Sangatte where we had located our overnight stop. Why Silly takes us through narrow streets with parked houses when she knows our size defeats us. But find the campsite she did . It was fine 20 minutes from the train. It looked Ok but the biggest hurdle was the sign on the gate which said that the barrier did not open until 7 .
Too late for us - leave 7, arrive at the train at 7.30 . Too late to negotiate french and English customs, have our gas checked and load. Back to the drawing board . We could go back to the campsite we stayed at last year but we did not like it. La Bien Assise was shut for the season. We ended up at St Louis Campsite about 30 minutes away. A lovely quiet site. A new one for ACSI. The restuarant was closed until next year but the rest of the facilities were excellent. Definately a campsite we would use again either on our way to or from the tunnel.
The morning was dark . We always feel despondent knowing in a short while we will be back to cold and dark Autumnal UK. No-one was about and we ate breakfast quietly waiting for the magic hour of 6 am. We always hold our breaths as we approach the barrier. Will it open? If it doesnt what do we do? There is no-one about. The reception does not open until 9. Will we catch our train? What can we do if it doesn't open? Anyway whats the problem
? There is always another train. As we approached it went up. Relief flooded over us. Escape and homeward bound. The trip to the train was awful in the dark. The french dont bother with street lighting so it was pitch black all the way to the tunnel. It is like a maze driving the backroads of Calais. I swear that we never drive down the same road. Arriving the machine greeted me as always and spewed out our coat hanger . We are a bit early . We are getting good at this. I steered Glenn to the first of the passport controls. As always it is left to me to negotiate the bit between the tunnel gates and the train. It always seems worse in the dark in France. More convoluted. Like a snake chasing its own tail. I insisted that I knew exactly where I was going. What can go wrong? We have done it many times before. Head to the right to that booth with the green arrow I said with great confidence. French customs gave a very nonchalent look at our passports. I wonder how they will treat us next Spring? . " Where to
next ?" said Glenn concentrating on his driving. "To the right - that arrow over there". British passport control was straightforward . I pointed to the next port of call . The man who was checking our gas. All straightforward so far . . I was now in full flight - "Head for the roundabout - I know where I am going" "Go all the way round and head that way" So far so good. This is where pride takes a fall. "Next roundabout - go all the way round - well almost all the way round" There are two car parks - one for cars and the other for people like us. Sometimes I get the right one but today I picked the car one. "Lets turn round and get the right one" said the driver . Our attempts at driving the wrong way out was greeted with frantic waving from a manic frenchman. We gave up and went for a coffee in the Charles Darwin Lounge which was eerily quiet with every shop bar the cafes open. We ate croissants and sat for a while. We were trying to book a site in Hereford for a trip into
the city and it wasn't going well. It being Friday meant that the world and his dog were out over the weekend and the campsite was full.
7.20 arrived and we were on the train . Before long we were in Blighty . It was cold , it was dark and we had put the clocks back an hour. Welcome home to the traffic of the M2 and M25. Not a pleasant sight nor thought. We decided to stop at Stop 24 for a break . That was dead too. The one thing that did put a smile on our faces was the Belgian Sikh who car numberplate read PUNJABI. Before we moved on through affluent stockbroker belt of Kent and West Sussex with its pristine multimillion pound houses with their perfect lawns and gardens we tried to ring the Friendly Caravan Club. Could they fit us in for one night ? No they said . We only book two nights over a weekend but we will come back to you later if we can accommodate you.
So that is how we ended up at Bodiam - a place full of memories. We walked around the moat admiring
the castle from every side . It you pictured Sarzay in your mind then try this one for size. Four square it sits on its perfect moat which was filled with the most disgusting catfish. They followed us as we walked first round the back of the castle , following us along the side and then congregating underneath the bridge to the castle itself . They big mouths wide open gulping in air but looking as if they wished to swallow us whole. What use are catfish to man or beast ? A bit like flies - disgusting and ugly . By now we were joined by the local school children on an educational visit to the castle. Noisy , excited they rushed about. They were joined by the volunteer guide dressed in his rough clothes holding his staff . His wife wearing equally rough clothing held on a spindle. They would have their hands full as we and other visitors headed as far away from the very excitable children as we could. " Did you go on school trips in junior school?" Glenn asked . I couldn't remember any. Would we have gained anything from educational trips? We just
sat at our individual desks not talking to our neighbours with heads down learning from books.
What would they learn? Well the castle was built in 1385 Sir Edward Dalyngrigge a knight who had been in the service of Edward III. Its purpose was to defend the area from the French during the Hundred Years War. It is quadrangular in plan and unusually has no keep. It was built around defensive walls and inner courts with towers on each corner . A perfect English castle. A pretty English castle. It had a lively history during the English Civil War whilst in the possession of Lord Thanet. He was a Royalist and when he backed the wrong side he sold the castle to pay his fine to parliament. Over the years it was dismantled bit by bit inside and remained a picturesque romantic ruin until 1829 when it was bought by John Fuller who partially restored it. Its last owner was George Cubitt the Ist BAron Ashcombe who on his death gave it to the National Trust .
Inside you have to use your imagination. The space is empty and green in the middle . A place where the young children would have played. Where castle life would have played out with the ladies going for their daily walks, where the horses would have been housed and where knights practiced doing knightly tasks . The kitchen roof was missing. In winter it would have been pleasant with the fires burning brightly. The meat cooking and dripping fat on the hearth . In the summer hot and sticky . The cooks and the buttermakers, the cheesemakers and the servants would have been busy in all of the now empty rooms. None of the upper floors have remained . All you see are empty remnants of fireplaces, imagination is needed to see the great hall with its tapestries and long oak table . Bedrooms and attic rooms all now disappeared.
Our time at the castle had come to an end. We were fighting now to get pictures minus children. It was difficult to get into the rooms with the school party taking over plus stomachs had begun to rumble . We had a dinner date next at both a house and a castle . All in the same location . We are moving from West Sussex back into Kent . The county borders criss cross here. One minute you are in West Sussex , the next back in Kent. Oh and yes we can stay overnight just one night only at Hereford . Sadly by the time we got this news we had found a property in Wrexham again and booked a viewing so tonight its Henley on Thames and tomorrow after the viewing home. And no the castle hasn't been moved around.
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Katherine Clune
non-member comment
Hereford sailing club
They operate a year round campsite, basic but cheap and easy walking into town. Right on the river too.