On Friday 19th June 2009 I woke early after a good sleep, packed up and sorted car after doing some writing and seeing the news. It was after eight when I set off and did not make the mistake of the previous day which thinking I would be able to get back towards the town centre set off on a road which in fact took to Carisbook Castle.
I have visited Castle and country Houses when a member of English heritage but I am not a great enthusiast and was more interested in the place of such establishment in our history than the particular examples of finery, wealth and individual family power, It si interesting how people concentrate of creating things which mean little as death approaches and not on their relationships and what they do and do not when they are alive.
This time I made no such mistake but then could not find the way into the Morrison’s care park because of the one way system and entered a small car park a few metres from the bus station. At Morrison’s I decided upon a small breakfast of a sausage, bacon, egg, tomatoes and friend bread for a couple of English pounds. I had enough coffee beforehand. I then did a some getting some rolls, a croissant for the morrow and two packs grapes and almond twists. It was eight thirty when I set off for the Ferry landing of Fishbourne arriving just before nine and being able to make my way into the vehicular lanes and into a row where there was only a couple of cars ahead of the one I was following. I had close on an hour to wait for my departure. There were surprisingly fewer private car vehicles arriving for the 9.30 departure and the explanation became evidence as a dozen coaches assembled over several lanes. There occupied almost all the lower deck with the exception of eight or so vehicles packed tightly behind them on the open part of the deck. I was one of them.
Understandable most of the seating was occupied within and outside the lounges when I made may way up the various levels to the outside areas, but after witnessing the departure and having a walk about I settle in an inside lounge and enjoyed a copy of the County Press where I discovered the recent availability of a DVD about old Bembridge and the surrounding villages.
The route out of Portsmouth from the ferry landing appeared to me easier and quicker than that taken what seemed such a long time ago but was in fact only four days previously, This time instead of taking the M27 back the way I had come towards the M3 some twenty miles parallel with the coast I time in the opposite direction and took the short journey to the start of the A3. There was a short detour at one point into the adjacent town of Hindhead where I passed the Devil’s Punchbowl Inn, a large several story building which has adopted the name of the area of a natural amphitheatre and beauty spot and which is not to be confused with its more dramatic counterpart in California, a thousand acre park. The Inn is across the way from the beauty spot and is some 900 feet above sea level and where on a clear day it is said one can see as far London.
Of greater interest to me was the turning off towards Haselmere which I have visited at least once to a sanatorium just after World War 2 where the youngest of my mother’s six sisters convalesced with a order of nuns at their sanatorium on the hillside and where beds could be moved into the open air. She could have had an operation for the tuberculosis’s which could have saved her life but a devout Catholic should put her trust in God. Although she was someone with a warm and outgoing personality, a former unqualified teacher in Gibraltar who had contracted the disease while training to be a nurse she was inwardly sad has her fiancée of several years had disappeared during the Spanish Civil War while training to become a doctor at the university of Madrid. May they rest in peace.
The journey continued to go well until I reached the M25 where earlier an accident had occurred ahead and the traffic had accumulated to a situation of slow, stop and slow, Worse was to come when a further accident on the M1 brought traffic to a standstill. On impulse rather than sit it out I decided to take a detour coming off at the first opportunity and made not one but two incorrect decisions, Instead of following the road into Newport Pagnell and then taking a B road to join in I took a minor road under the motor way into Stevenage in order to take the A5 North route but lost all sense of Direction at one point and ended up at the very roundabout above the M1 that I had started and with traffic at a virtual standstill. This time I went into Stevenage and rejoined the M1 which was then free flowing. I was stopping at the Trowell Travel Lodge for the night but had arranged to make a detour stop between 2 and 4. I had also forgotten about the extent of traffic everywhere on Friday afternoons when many set off home from work early or go away for the weekend. It was all frustrating an not enjoyable. However although much later than anticipated, especially given the taking of the earlier Ferry I and an enjoyable break and it was dusk when I set off to find the M1 before the Trowell. I had been this way before, but a year ago when coming into Nottingham fort he cricket and I knew I was heading for the wrong M1 exit which would have taken beyond the service area. I had to do a little doubling back before getting on track. The M1 north and south of Trowell has been undergoing extensive repairs and changes which involve the banks and bridges for over a year now and continues to look as if the work will continue for the rest of this year and beyond.
I was tired when I dragged myself and luggage to the second floor where the room was located and somehow managed to dislodge the spring held clothes rail. The television did not immediate work although I was able to resolve what was a lose aerial connection and it looked for a few minutes as if I was to have problems logging online.
The following morning I set of relaxed but tired and continued not to enjoy the journey home. I stopped at the Wakefield service area for an early picnic lunch and then called in at Tesco for milk and other supplies before reaching home. The rest of the day was taken with unpacking and sorting the post.
I have visited Castle and country Houses when a member of English heritage but I am not a great enthusiast and was more interested in the place of such establishment in our history than the particular examples of finery, wealth and individual family power, It si interesting how people concentrate of creating things which mean little as death approaches and not on their relationships and what they do and do not when they are alive.
This time I made no such mistake but then could not find the way into the Morrison’s care park because of the one way system and entered a small car park a few metres from the bus station. At Morrison’s I decided upon a small breakfast of a sausage, bacon, egg, tomatoes and friend bread for a couple of English pounds. I had enough coffee beforehand. I then did a some getting some rolls, a croissant for the morrow and two packs grapes and almond twists. It was eight thirty when I set off for the Ferry landing of Fishbourne arriving just before nine and being able to make my way into the vehicular lanes and into a row where there was only a couple of cars ahead of the one I was following. I had close on an hour to wait for my departure. There were surprisingly fewer private car vehicles arriving for the 9.30 departure and the explanation became evidence as a dozen coaches assembled over several lanes. There occupied almost all the lower deck with the exception of eight or so vehicles packed tightly behind them on the open part of the deck. I was one of them.
Understandable most of the seating was occupied within and outside the lounges when I made may way up the various levels to the outside areas, but after witnessing the departure and having a walk about I settle in an inside lounge and enjoyed a copy of the County Press where I discovered the recent availability of a DVD about old Bembridge and the surrounding villages.
The route out of Portsmouth from the ferry landing appeared to me easier and quicker than that taken what seemed such a long time ago but was in fact only four days previously, This time instead of taking the M27 back the way I had come towards the M3 some twenty miles parallel with the coast I time in the opposite direction and took the short journey to the start of the A3. There was a short detour at one point into the adjacent town of Hindhead where I passed the Devil’s Punchbowl Inn, a large several story building which has adopted the name of the area of a natural amphitheatre and beauty spot and which is not to be confused with its more dramatic counterpart in California, a thousand acre park. The Inn is across the way from the beauty spot and is some 900 feet above sea level and where on a clear day it is said one can see as far London.
Of greater interest to me was the turning off towards Haselmere which I have visited at least once to a sanatorium just after World War 2 where the youngest of my mother’s six sisters convalesced with a order of nuns at their sanatorium on the hillside and where beds could be moved into the open air. She could have had an operation for the tuberculosis’s which could have saved her life but a devout Catholic should put her trust in God. Although she was someone with a warm and outgoing personality, a former unqualified teacher in Gibraltar who had contracted the disease while training to be a nurse she was inwardly sad has her fiancée of several years had disappeared during the Spanish Civil War while training to become a doctor at the university of Madrid. May they rest in peace.
The journey continued to go well until I reached the M25 where earlier an accident had occurred ahead and the traffic had accumulated to a situation of slow, stop and slow, Worse was to come when a further accident on the M1 brought traffic to a standstill. On impulse rather than sit it out I decided to take a detour coming off at the first opportunity and made not one but two incorrect decisions, Instead of following the road into Newport Pagnell and then taking a B road to join in I took a minor road under the motor way into Stevenage in order to take the A5 North route but lost all sense of Direction at one point and ended up at the very roundabout above the M1 that I had started and with traffic at a virtual standstill. This time I went into Stevenage and rejoined the M1 which was then free flowing. I was stopping at the Trowell Travel Lodge for the night but had arranged to make a detour stop between 2 and 4. I had also forgotten about the extent of traffic everywhere on Friday afternoons when many set off home from work early or go away for the weekend. It was all frustrating an not enjoyable. However although much later than anticipated, especially given the taking of the earlier Ferry I and an enjoyable break and it was dusk when I set off to find the M1 before the Trowell. I had been this way before, but a year ago when coming into Nottingham fort he cricket and I knew I was heading for the wrong M1 exit which would have taken beyond the service area. I had to do a little doubling back before getting on track. The M1 north and south of Trowell has been undergoing extensive repairs and changes which involve the banks and bridges for over a year now and continues to look as if the work will continue for the rest of this year and beyond.
I was tired when I dragged myself and luggage to the second floor where the room was located and somehow managed to dislodge the spring held clothes rail. The television did not immediate work although I was able to resolve what was a lose aerial connection and it looked for a few minutes as if I was to have problems logging online.
The following morning I set of relaxed but tired and continued not to enjoy the journey home. I stopped at the Wakefield service area for an early picnic lunch and then called in at Tesco for milk and other supplies before reaching home. The rest of the day was taken with unpacking and sorting the post.
No comments:
Post a Comment