Thursday, August 05, 2004
Slow? Disorganised? Me? Surely not...
Anyway, last weekend (and it's nearly this weekend already, where does the time go?) we had our first Ben-less trip in the Banana Bus. A couple had said they were coming round to see the flat on Saturday at 6.30 so we'd decided, on a whim (or rather, over a Guinness) in the pub on Friday night to pack up the van and take off as soon as they left.
After getting the house ship-shape (which spoiled the "suburban flat" effect somewhat, but you can never have too many portholes I suppose) I went out for shopping and petrol on Saturday afternoon. Fully stocked up we managed to sling a few things in a carrier bag and have the viewing at 6.30 then be on the road by five to seven, fairly impressive we thought.
Anyway, we whizzed - inasmuch as one can in a T25 - along the city bypass, experiencing a strange sense of deja-vu, towards North Berwick.
We arrived, incident-free, at the Gillsland Caravan Park, which had sneakily lied about its proximity to the town centre. No matter, it was a really nice site and absolutely jam-packed, so we were fortunate to get a nice hard-standing at the end of a road, near(ish) to the toilet block and showers.
Without even so much as a brew(!) we set off for the town centre, with a couple of beers in Gail's bag. Classy or what? Braving the queue and the heat, we bought a couple of fish suppers and went to sit on the beach. Now, we've had many a fish supper over the years, and a fair few from that very shop in North Berwick but it has to be said, this was possibly the finest ever! That's a bold claim, and it may be that it was because we were on our holidays (okay, one night but we always feel like we're far away when we go anywhere in the bus) or it may be the fact the chips and the fish were cooked freshly, I don't know - either way it was a perfect meal.
Though at £4.40, I don't know...I remember when you could get half a dozen fritters, a single fish and a black pudding supper and still have change from a pound.
Back up at the site, we listened, as is our Saturday tradition, to Bob Harris. During which, we moaned at Bob Harris - another Saturday tradition. The music has really gone downhill in the last year or so, and he doesn't seem to play nearly as much by way of up-and-coming stuff as he used to. He also seems to be very keen on shameless self-promotion, which I suppose is a must for anyone in the media, really.
Iain Anderson and Tom Morton are far, far superior, in my humble opinion.
There was a bit of noise on site but it soon died down and we slept through until about 8.30! What a luxury! Not bothering with breakfast - we had plans! - we paid up (£8) and drove into town. Having stopped for the Sunday papers, we were parked up, 6 inches from the beach, by 9.30 and enjoying bacon rolls and fresh coffee by 9.45...how very civilised. The smugness of campervanners was upon us as we appreciated the view from our "dining room" window:
Suitably refreshed, we left North Berwick behind to speed along the coastal path homewards, through Gullane, Aberlady and Seton Sands, before a detour near Musselburgh to Drum Mohr campsite to replace the gas cylinder which has seen us through many, many cups of tea since last year.
Penultimate stop en route home was at Musselburgh to - shock, horror - wash the campervan, but the jetwash never quite gets it all off. Final stop after that was, more shock, the petrol station in Currie to vacuum the van!...then homewards for another round of viewings.
It's strange how I'd never even been to North Berwick before moving to Edinburgh and now it's become like a second home. This might be the last overnighter in the bus for a while so it was both nice and odd to be out without Ben...if we're totally honest I think we both felt a bit guilty!
Anyway, last weekend (and it's nearly this weekend already, where does the time go?) we had our first Ben-less trip in the Banana Bus. A couple had said they were coming round to see the flat on Saturday at 6.30 so we'd decided, on a whim (or rather, over a Guinness) in the pub on Friday night to pack up the van and take off as soon as they left.
After getting the house ship-shape (which spoiled the "suburban flat" effect somewhat, but you can never have too many portholes I suppose) I went out for shopping and petrol on Saturday afternoon. Fully stocked up we managed to sling a few things in a carrier bag and have the viewing at 6.30 then be on the road by five to seven, fairly impressive we thought.
Anyway, we whizzed - inasmuch as one can in a T25 - along the city bypass, experiencing a strange sense of deja-vu, towards North Berwick.
We arrived, incident-free, at the Gillsland Caravan Park, which had sneakily lied about its proximity to the town centre. No matter, it was a really nice site and absolutely jam-packed, so we were fortunate to get a nice hard-standing at the end of a road, near(ish) to the toilet block and showers.
Without even so much as a brew(!) we set off for the town centre, with a couple of beers in Gail's bag. Classy or what? Braving the queue and the heat, we bought a couple of fish suppers and went to sit on the beach. Now, we've had many a fish supper over the years, and a fair few from that very shop in North Berwick but it has to be said, this was possibly the finest ever! That's a bold claim, and it may be that it was because we were on our holidays (okay, one night but we always feel like we're far away when we go anywhere in the bus) or it may be the fact the chips and the fish were cooked freshly, I don't know - either way it was a perfect meal.
Though at £4.40, I don't know...I remember when you could get half a dozen fritters, a single fish and a black pudding supper and still have change from a pound.
Back up at the site, we listened, as is our Saturday tradition, to Bob Harris. During which, we moaned at Bob Harris - another Saturday tradition. The music has really gone downhill in the last year or so, and he doesn't seem to play nearly as much by way of up-and-coming stuff as he used to. He also seems to be very keen on shameless self-promotion, which I suppose is a must for anyone in the media, really.
Iain Anderson and Tom Morton are far, far superior, in my humble opinion.
There was a bit of noise on site but it soon died down and we slept through until about 8.30! What a luxury! Not bothering with breakfast - we had plans! - we paid up (£8) and drove into town. Having stopped for the Sunday papers, we were parked up, 6 inches from the beach, by 9.30 and enjoying bacon rolls and fresh coffee by 9.45...how very civilised. The smugness of campervanners was upon us as we appreciated the view from our "dining room" window:
Suitably refreshed, we left North Berwick behind to speed along the coastal path homewards, through Gullane, Aberlady and Seton Sands, before a detour near Musselburgh to Drum Mohr campsite to replace the gas cylinder which has seen us through many, many cups of tea since last year.
Penultimate stop en route home was at Musselburgh to - shock, horror - wash the campervan, but the jetwash never quite gets it all off. Final stop after that was, more shock, the petrol station in Currie to vacuum the van!...then homewards for another round of viewings.
It's strange how I'd never even been to North Berwick before moving to Edinburgh and now it's become like a second home. This might be the last overnighter in the bus for a while so it was both nice and odd to be out without Ben...if we're totally honest I think we both felt a bit guilty!
