Described by currently absent Lawrence The First as “futuristic” Lexi, Trixie and I are on holiday in a camping pod. A sort of Scandinavian feel curved pine and bitumen roofed structure it houses a comfy double bed and bunkbed and easily fits us three inside. It is a great substitute for a tent, mostly because we don’t have enough room for all our clobber in the hire car. Big thanks to one of Wolverhampton friends for finding it.
The pod has already proved several things, things that I already knew about me, if I am totally honest. Firstly I do like camping but even much liked activities can be improved on. I insist on us taking a duvet to sleep on when camping and the addition of a comfy double bed to this is an improvement. The duvet is always packed along with a table, cafetière and muesli meaning that we do not completely fit in with the other guests at the campsite.
Where we are staying, Golden Sands Dawlish which is 15% campsite with the rest made up of static caravans of the “This luxury lodge could be yours for only £600 per month terms and conditions apply” variety. This ownership opportunity also comes with access to the on site entertainment centre (“Your caberet host tonight is Mr Sean Wrey!”) swimming pool and access to the shop. Lawrences are not the intended market though as none of us are tattooed with the names of our offspring, favourite football team or series of lovers and we tend not to give a running commentary when using the toilet. I had the privilege of listening in on one of these pleasant chats as I passed an Etchingham Lodge (very big caravan). The lady of house hollered an enquiry, in fluent drunken Dudley “Ay Rich. Is it a floater?” I never found out what Rich had managed to produce but sincerely hope that he is feeling better by now. The three of us cooked a lentil curry this evening and followed that with lots of strawberries but are hoping that we don’t need to go in to too much detail about future movements.
This afternoon we used our National Trust membership to explore Castle Drogo, which is currently undergoing a massive waterproofing repair job. Originally started in 1911 the castle took owner Julius Drewe and his chief architect Edwin Lutyens 15 years to complete, and then only half of what Drewe had originally hoped to build. The NT were a little vague about how Mr Drewe made his wealth to be able to build this edifice but sadness struck the family with the death of their eldest child in WW1, meaning the much hoped for blissful family life must have been a little muted when the Drewes finally had their first Christmas dinner in Drogo in 1926. The granite structure of the Castle is very impressive, which each stone being cut to size before being raised into position. Less impressive is the roof that, at the time, used the latest breakthrough technology: asphalt. The varied Devon climate took its toll on the new material, expanding and contracting it until leaks appeared. Thanks to an extensive appeal and on-going fundraising the NT is coming toward the end of a five year restoration project. We contributed to the restoration fund by enjoying hot chocolates in the cafe.
The weather has been kind to us so far with plenty of sun yesterday and this morning (hence the appearance of all the tattoos). This evening though I did need to get out my woolly hat and waterproof, as did Lexi and Trixie. When snapping a family photo for us a camper from another pod told us “We’re from the North, you know.” Clearly trying to show that he was a hardened man used to less forgiving climes I did notice that he was wearing a thick trousers and a sweatshirt. I might have to tell him tomorrow that we are not wimpish southerners but tropical easterners instead, just in case he starts to get the wrong idea when watching us chopping garlic and reading the i newspaper.