Error F11 is upon us. Dishwasher pump not working. Either there is a blockage or the pump is knackered. Sigh. It’s a blue job, according to the divisions of labour laid down by our camping fraternity. They are an old fashioned lot. I say camping. They are motorhomers or mohos. We now prefer to stay in glamping pods or cottages nearby especially at this time of year.
I quite like the life camping but stiffness brought on by being somewhat over forty together with the need for night time sorties to the toilet block or hedge make a luxury cottage far easier to live with.
I must have told you the story before of how I went away with the scouts’ Mountain Action Team for a weekend of adventure and fun. Arrived late, in the dark in fact, at the campsite and had to pitch my tent in the snow. Our lateness of arrival meant we were slap bang in the middle of the field and nowhere near a hedge.
That night I lay in my tent in the small hours of the morning mulling over the fact that I couldn’t get to sleep. I wasn’t quite sure whether it was because I was cold or needed the loo. I decided to put a jumper on and walk five paces from the tent. The ground was frozen. It was v cold.
When I got back into my sleeping bag I kept the jumper on and slept like a baby. I still don’t know to this day whether my inability to sleep was down to the cold or needing a pee. Both probs. I haven’t been to the scout group camp for a few years now. It’s the best one of the year. We always seem to be away when it is on in September.
Meanwhile over in Multan, Pakistan has walloped England at the second test. One all now going into the third and final test which I assume is next week. The cricket has been a welcome addition to the autumn sporting scene at a time where there has been little worth watching from the football perspective.
Today we are off to Skendleby with the camping crowd. We have a tried and tested routine. Takeaway fish and chips on the first night, tonight, and a bbq tomorrow. Lots of beer, wine and merriment. Mirth. Memories. Stories to be stacked up for retelling at the next get together or five.
Many of these stories centre around short walks that turned into ten mile expeditions with a crowd of knackered campers arriving back gasping for a drink. Then there was the time we had booked a restaurant near Woodhall Spa and were told it was only a short walk from the campsite. I was a bit suspicious about the amount of time it would take and the fact that there was rain forecast so booked meself and THG a taxi. When the others latched on to this they all ended up in taxis and we thanked ourselves for doing so when faced with the “short walk home” at the end of the night.
The packing for today is quite straightforward. Couple of spare tshirts and sets of undies with a warm coat (I have a down lined parka), blankets and camping chairs for sitting around the campfire. Plus toiletries etc natch. It’s a simple old life. The booze is already in the boot of THG’s car, having been left there after yesterday’s raid on Waitrose.
En route to Skendleby we are calling in at Alford. They have a museum, a shop called the Wool Factory and a church that may be visited. I like noting the hymns up on the board and the list of past vicars. Call it my contribution to the social history record of where we live 🙂
PS took the dishwasher apart as far as was possible and eventually found some fibrous material in the section with the motor. Hopefully the removal of that has sorted it.