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