Wild weather in Portsmouth

I have been lucky with the weather the last two or three years at the Portsmouth Victorian Christmas Festival so I suppose it was tempting fate that there would be another late November calm and sunny winter weekend.  It was certainly the worst weather of the last few years and my usual wild camping site in the D Day Museum carpark in Southsea was certainly a wild three-night stay.  It was like being on board ship as the wind and rain slammed into the lorry and I was kept awake with worrying how the stage would be faring in the 50 and 60 mph winds.

I needn’t have worried as when I arrived every morning the stage was still there and stalwartly resisting all the weather being thrown at it.  It seemed to say to me, “Haven’t you any faith in your own design?” Actually of course I have, but I’m an eternal worrier.  Always have been and probably always will be.  The worst time is 3.00 am.  The witching hour.  I can only seem to sleep through it if I’ve taken a Nytol.  Podcasts help but mostly they are a distraction rather than a therapy, with the possible exception of Garrison Keilor’s Prairie Home Companion News from Lake Wobegon series which always lulls me to sleep with a smile on my face. I also like The Skeptic’s (sic) Guide to the Universe.  It often takes a few playings overnight before I manage to have heard them through to the end.

So November has been vile for weather.  Darkest and wettest for a while.  As I write this a few days later the rain and wind are again buffeting the lorry despite the shelter afforded by the wall of the workshop.

I’m back in Chester for a few days and have been presenting the latest Cat’s Paw Theatre piece in schools in North Wales.  As you know we present a forum theatre presentation about rape and sexual consent for Year 9s across North Wales. I had a letter from a key worker at the local Sexual Assault Referral Centre that brought tears to my eyes so I will copy it here:

Hi both,

Hope all well, just thought you might like to hear about something that happened last week.

I was supporting a young woman on a rape trial in Crown Court.  I’ve been working with her for a while but had never heard the detail of the assault or what happened.  She had very bravely decided to give her evidence in court, with screens and asked me to go in with her and just sit behind her to be supportive.

It came out in her evidence that she had been at school watching a play about sexual violence and during the play the group was told that if you change your mind half way through sex, even if it started out as consensual, but you change your mind, it’s still rape.  This young person had been in this situation with the boyfriend - had consented to sex, but then he got rough and unpleasant, she asked him to stop and he wouldn’t.  The young person had no idea that this was rape, so obviously this was a bit of a lightbulb moment for her.  She still found it very difficult to process what had happened to her but she started to view her (abusive) relationship differently.  The boyfriend went onto rape her again and she found the courage to go to the police.

The young man was found guilty on one of the three counts of rape and sentenced to 30 months.

I went out to see her yesterday and asked her a bit about the play she had seen – my ears had pricked up a bit when it was mentioned in court, and sure enough, it was one of your productions.  I told her I know you and a bit about the work we have been doing together and she said I could share her story with you.  So, well done, because Cats Paw were a big part of the process of realising what had happened and being able to seek help and ultimately getting justice.

I guess we couldn’t ask for a stronger validation of the important work we do and I am grateful to and proud of the other members of Cat’s Paw and thanks to the Welsh Assembly Government for continuing to sponsor this initiative.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Full moon over Stafford Services

Notwithstanding my love of wild camping sites, it is occasionally quite comforting to stop overnight in a Motorway Services, catering as they do for the professional traveller.  Most offer a voucher for a meal as part of the overnight stay deal and a free shower.  Stafford Services charges £22 for 24 hours with two £5 food vouchers thrown in and I think that’s a reasonable charge.  Stafford is an old-style Roadchef place with a small lake, plenty of trees and a pleasant walk through woods for the dogs.  Blue loves Services because of the almost-tame rabbits and I think she imagines that I stop at Services just so she can attempt to chase them.

I found an edge of the carpark spot looking through the woods as I had arrived just as it was growing dark and there were a lot of spaces.  An hour later and the lorry park was almost full with a full moon to boot rising through the trees.  It was almost romantic. There is something comforting about rows of lorries with drivers all cosied up in their cab beds.  Perhaps it reminds me of dormitories which I slept in at school.  The gennie hidden and locked to the trailer ensured a night of comfort and the tv signal was good.   I don’t mind the distant sound of the motorway or the occasional middle-of-the-night big engine startup and drive off.  The sounds keep me grounded in the real world.  

The two £5 food vouchers are valid for a week and although £5 doesn’t go very far at a Services, it’s at least a small incentive.  The next morning I had a traditional breakfast which was ample, well and freshly cooked and a lovely mug of coffee and had to top up the price with about a pound.  Other services are less generous and definitely less salubrious. 

I’m on my road to an annual three-day show which I really enjoy.  Reputedly the Victorian Christmas Festival at Portsmouth docks is the largest Christmas event in Europe.  The old dockyard is a great location with narrow rows of Victorian and earlier industrial buildings.  The whole site is dressed like a film set and many local drama groups are engaged to dress up and present mini dramas across the site.  A visit includes access to Victory and the Mary Rose and although the ticket price is expensive, there is a lot to see with many themed shows and attractions.  Hundreds of stalls, fairground rides and food franchises complete the whole and thousands visit it every year. I have a great location with the Second Sea Lord’s residence behind the stage.

For the last few days I’ve had the Who song ‘Substitute’ earworming into my head and I just can’t lose it.  It was played during another podcast I regularly listen to which is well worth a trial if you are into such things.  Called ‘Little Atoms’, it’s basically an in-depth book review with an emphasis on ‘ideas and culture’ (whatever they are).  Each episode consists of an interview with the author about their latest book.  Neil Denny was talking with Jon Savage about his book ‘1966 – the year the decade exploded’ and Jon loves the lyrics of ‘Substitute’.  It was played on the podcast which was where I caught the worm.  Readers of my blog may remember my early love of the Who and of my friend and my fractious meeting with Keith Moon round the back of the stage at the Windsor Jazz and Blues Festival in 1960 something. I love the lyrics of ‘Substitute’ too.  ‘I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth’ is a line of pure genius. Another line in particular used to fox me in the days before you could look up such things on the internet - ‘Substitute my coat for Jim’.  I had no idea who Jim was and why they might want to substitute his coat.  I guess I was thinking too of the plastic mac in the song that could be seen right through.  I realised this morning as the song’s refrains ran interminably round my head it probably was ‘substitute my coke for gin’. Ah the innocence of youth.  When I next have internet I will look it up to be sure.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

The first 3.00 am fire

It’s always a sign that winter is really imminent.  I woke this morning at 3.00 am, as I often do, a range of thoughts and ideas, plans and worries pushing sleep away.  Most mornings when this happens I turn on a podcast on the phone, not really to listen but just to let the familiar words drift me back to sleep.  My favourite is Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion Lake Wobegon series, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone who is also troubled with the 3.00 am blues.  His gentle humour, interspersed with homespun philosophy, stories and songs is a real joy and unlike many of the other podcasts I listen to, he never asks for a subscription or a donation. I spin through the many saved episodes by chance and stop at one and let the machine play.  I have listened so often to him in the night I can almost recite the words and phrases and I drift back into sleep for a couple of hours.

Not so the other night, the coldest of the year so far.  The cold hung in the air and invaded the duvet.  Even the dogs were huddled up with me sharing its scant protection. There was nothing for it but to light a fire.  I have the process down to a split second.  My good friend Ralph has given me a number of lcd lights with sensors so as soon as I step out of bed one or other comes on to light the process. First the kettle goes on. I have the time it takes to boil to clear out the ashes into an old baking tin I use for the purpose, pop a firelighter in, a few morning sticks, a small log or two and a couple of smokeless fuel chunks.  The fire is lit as the kettle clicks and I pour the first tea of the day and am back in bed to enjoy the gradual infusion of warmth, tea and podcast lulling me back to sleep. It’s a challenge to have it done by the time the kettle boils and a joy as the warmth fills the small space and quickly makes it cosy and comforting.

The last two weekends have been really good.  The first one took me to Ironbridge and a wooded overflow carpark for Blists Hill Victorian town.  Quite by chance, despite being surrounded by trees I had a good satellite tv signal and a great path for the dogs through the woods, following an old railway track which had been used formerly to take coal down to the river to Coalport from a number of mines in the area.  The famous iron bridge which gave Ironbridge its name was built by Abraham Darby in 1779 and was the first iron bridge in the world and gave the place its reputation as the birthplace of the industrial revolution.  The town itself is charming and mainly a tourist attraction but has a great pork pie shop, but the smallest coffee cups ever, so be warned if, like me, you like a large coffee.

The second weekend I had planned to go to Derbyshire, but a two hour jam on the M6 changed my plans and I stayed again in the Nature reserve at Stafford, meeting up again with several of the dog walkers from last time.  I am almost a regular there now and they made me feel very welcome.  It is great not to have any comments or mutterings from passers-by about being an itinerant. Times have changed or maybe it’s the Stafford people used over the ages to travellers stopping off on their way south or north.

And so to Christmas.  This year only two bookings, but that’s OK with me.  It can be very cold on the stage at this time of year. The first next weekend - a three day Victorian Christmas Festival at the historic dockyard in Portsmouth which I have done for a number of years and then a new booking in Chatham town centre which I think may be the more challenging as they were unable to site me right in the town centre and instead I’m close to the bus station. I have a feeling it will not be a great location.  Councils are throwing money at town centres, especially at Christmas, to try to stop people going to out of town malls but I am afraid it’s a losing battle.  We shall see.

Meanwhile, all the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Travelling again

Last winter saw me sitting rather lonely in my yard eating too much and complaining about everything.  Well that’s not going to happen this winter.  I am changing my diet and taking a range of vitamins.  I am hoping Santa will bring me a special light which simulates sunshine and I have stepped up my yoga discipline to at least 40 minutes daily and a weekly class with a great teacher.

But chief amongst my diagnosed therapy treatment is escaping every weekend.  In collaboration with www.wildcamping.co.uk, an old UK road map and a nose for interesting places, I am taking off every Friday night for somewhere new and invite you to join on my travels as I explore and stay in the towns and villages of North West England.  It should be a fascinating adventure and I am really looking forward to it.  I have drawn a circle on the map of 75 miles radius from my yard in Chester so I will only be at most hour and a half from there.

My plan is not to pay camping site fees and only stay on paid carparks as a last resort.  I will tidy and pick litter in each space and try to leave it nicer than I found it.  I will obey any regulations displayed and make friends with my neighbours and visitors wherever possible.  Can you see my halo gleaming?

My first weekend foray was to Stafford.  A town I only know from the Services on the M6 that has become my first stopping-off point for a coffee and a wee on my way to the sunny South every summer. I met Robert, a dog-walker who tapped on my back door fascinated with the lorry paintwork.  He is a Stafford-based printer and asked if he could photograph the lorry for his Facebook page.  We talked about the idea I had of a leaflet box attached to the lorry side advertising the show, giving info about the lorry artists and the fauna quiz.  He can print it, provide a Perspex holder to attach and I think it will be great if he does.  My first cold caller at the lorry back door.

And so to Stafford town, a half hour walk from my first wild camping site at the edge of the beautiful Doxey Marsh nature reserve in the lee of the M6, the main rail line and a couple of wind turbines. The weather has turned decidedly autumnal with the wind and rain lashing the lorry, but a lovely blazing fire, a full log box and food in the fridge makes it a romantic setting.  For entertainment a new Rebus and a good satellite signal. So far so very good.

Stafford is a decidedly run-down town.  It felt very poor with the usual array of charity and empty closed shops.  There’s very little sign of the pottery and apparently the mechanized shoe-making industry town of previous centuries or of any accompanying riches.  A large town square seemed almost deserted and very sad with a lone burger bar promoting ‘Lunch for £1.30’. I dread to think…

A small museum in a tudor town house was free to enter and although the house itself was impressive, apparently the largest timber-framed townhouse in England, the exhibits mostly looked a little sad. However there was a Lidl on the way out so I could stock up on inexpensive and interesting food. Roundabouts and swings.

It was lovely to stay alongside the Doxey Marsh nature reserve which originally formed the barrier that originally gave Stafford its name – it means 'ford' by a 'staithe' (landing place) and the marsh stopped people crossing. I was treated to regular flocks of incoming geese, hooting, honking and laughing as they glided onto the lake. 

The very close proximity of the M6 didn’t interfere too much, and the flyover which carries it over the marsh was an impressive sight from below.  If you shut your eyes it could almost sound like the sea.

Next week the cradle of the British Industrial Revolution, Ironbridge.  Watch this space.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Brushstrokes of genius

I am sitting in another favourite place, with a view of great beauty from the window, looking out over the lake at the Nature Discovery Centre in Thatcham for tomorrow’s Green Halloween.  A wonderful variety of wildlife all living within yards of the lorry.  How lucky am I?  A warm log fire, food in the fridge and a good satellite signal for the tv for the Rugby World Cup final.  Just back from a walk around the lake with the dogs and a moment to write about the newly finished painting on the lorry side.

I met Rob through a friend and we were instant friends.  He is intelligent, funny and easy-going with a quiet, courteous manner.  Just my sort of person.  And a real genius with the paintbrush.  At the beginning of the season he had completed about a dozen bricks on the left hand side of the lorry and various things conspired against him completing the job until last week.  As the work then developed I could see what a great joy the end product was going to be.  Rob is a extremely talented and has not only completely captured the brief but he has also enhanced it to such a great extent.  I wanted the side to look like the back of the mansion town house my readers will know already graces the right hand side of the lorry.  Except I wanted it to be the back of a run-down tenement, so the whole lorry would be a little visual joke that onlookers would only see by walking all around it.

Rob has achieved that and more.  His trompe l’oeil painting of a brick built tenement with all sorts of wonderful things hanging off and living on the walls is a superb visual delight. He has also painted the rear of the lorry where the two pictures meet and whether you look from the posh or the down side there is no conflict.  It is clever and funny and I am so happy with the result. It is popular art of a very high calibre.

I have included a photo of it from the new side.

He has also added a range of creatures to the picture.  In total

·      A tortoise

·      A hedgehog

·      A rat

·      Two snails

·      A spider

·      A butterfly

·      A worm and

·      Seven ladybirds

adorn the ivy and the planting.  So I have a lovely challenge to children (and the child in the adults) who visit.  Find the Fifteen Fabulous Fauna.

A tin bath and scrubbing brush, dripping tap, a doorbell and postbox complete the whole picture, all of which look completely real. The bathroom window has steamed up with a message to passers-by and my real lace curtain falls seamlessly into its painted partner, so from any distance you wouldn’t know it wasn’t a real building. The wisteria is always in bloom around the bay window. 

The whole looks even better when the trailer is travelling behind.  My arrival in motorway service stations in the middle of the night brings a flurry of admiring glances.  People who I overtake and then overtake me are treated to the complete picture.  I love it.

I can’t wait till you see it for real. 

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander