30 July 2017
The week started on a bit of downer. Firstly I was forced to take the smoking car to the garage to get fixed whatever was making it smell like it was about to catch fire week.
I had a budget of £400 ($525). The repair was £1,050 ($1,380) as it needed all new brakes at the back. I considered not bothering and just driving really slowly, but the Domestic Manger pointed out this was hardly practical. The work had to be done. No hot food for us for the rest of the month.
Secondly the Domestic Manager and I had to take a turns at being my mother’s taxi driver as my father was back in hospital. It was a round trip of 74 miles so we took turns at taking her to visit. For the driver this meant two hours of pure negativity with a brief visit to a sick person half way through.
He was still in hospital when we were packed to go to Beadnell Bay. This was on the Thursday evening, so I contacted my mother to say if he was still in on Friday I would take the caravan south, leave the family with it and return home on the Sunday. It was at this point the contrasting characters of my parents was laid bare.
Returning home to provide parental care would have been a decent, positive and selfless thing to do, therefore my mother was violently against it. She would not be denied her opportunity to have something decent to complain about.
Then later that night my father phoned to say “You go on holiday. I’ll be fine. Really I will”. Yes Dad. I know. You are in hospital. You could not be in a better place. I am thinking about my Mother. The woman who turns up in the evening, brings you magazines, fruit, clean pants and stays for a full 20 minutes. In the end he came home on Monday.
This being the case I stayed at Wharryfest which kicked off on the Friday. We arrived at the site first and were met by a single storey building at the side of several flat fields. The fields contained a number of caravans and a huge array of absolutely massive tents. I can only think size matters when you have a tent.
We were all put together in the far corner of the field which was fabulous! We had lots of space to ourselves but it did mean a 20 minute walk for a wee. The hedges on our corner were a lot greener than the rest of the site. They must have just been well watered.
Despite the fact the toilet block seemed way too small, the showers etc were absolutely spotless. Nor did they smell and there was always lots of hot water.
The site was right next to the sea and really REALLY windy. It nearly took Alice and the unsecured awning out to sea at one point.
Despite the howling gale, the Sprite Muscateer was set up and ready to go by the time the first of the others appeared. As with all families when work needs to be done, the good people helped, the lazy people hid and the children made instant friends and went absolutely mental.
It was then the music started. The village of Beadnell was only a few hundred yards away and little did we know it was beer festival weekend.
One hotel had a live music stage with a 94,000,000 watt sound system. I can sleep standing up so didn’t bother me, but others in our party resorted to drink before they went to bed. Around midnight one band did a splendid medley including Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Cream and the like. It was blinkin’ marvellous!
On Saturday more Wharry family people arrived and some of us went to the sunkissed beach where my mother-in-law (that us younger than me – long story) collected a huge number of winkles. She cooked them but couldn’t give them away so she ate the lot herself.
At the beach the DM’s sister, here on the left in case you were wondering, viciously attacked her own sister.
She threw a ball for her dog with one of those plastic ball throwing things and as she was all power and no aim, managed to hit the Domestic Manager firmly on the back of the head. She was less than 10 feet in front of the sphere tosser and the sound of the impact was like Andy Murray serving an ace. The ball then headed into orbit and was last seen heading past the Cassini satellite at a rate of knots.
The DM was a bit upset. The DM and sister hugged. Alice and I wet ourselves.
It was very hot as it had been the day before once the wind dies down, which meant I now looked like a freshly boiled lobster. The deep red sun burn was a little sore and it felt like my skin was being stretched by a couple of wrestlers, but I was not going to mention it. Real men don’t.
Saturday night was BBQ time and the DM surprised everyone by supplying them with their first official festival T shirt:
Which everyone wore with pride:
When it got cold the party moved into our caravan awning where a huge amount of alcohol was consumed and there was a lot of heated discussion about religion, politics and the state of the NHS.
Really – who needs Lesbos or Tossa-de-Mar? Sitting around a heater in a big tent with your coat on is where it’s at!
Everyone was a little delicate the next morning including myself. I am essentially tee-total but had two glasses of Prosecco the day before. Never again!
Murrays Musings 