George's World Tour South of Stoke - Day 6
The sun was out again when we eventually got up this morning, after I'd turned my alarm off and gone back to sleep for another hour and a half. There were no untimely police patrols overnight, and I'm also pleased to report that the new toaster performed admirably at breakfast time. To be fair, the only thing it had to do was not collapse whilst it was suspending the muffin over the hob, but it did that far better than the old toaster, because of what I hope is a superior and long lasting design.
While we were packing up, a man knocked on the window wanting to chat about George. We were only too happy to oblige, and it turned out that he'd got a Granvia too, which he freely admitted was nowhere near as nice as George. I gave him some tips on how to stop his battery draining (buy an isolation switch off eBay and stop wasting any more time trying to fix it) together with a demonstration, and he went on his way, presumably to place on order on eBay.
After that we phoned a few pony trekking companies, and eventually settled on one just outside Burley. Our 2 hours of terror started at 1pm, so we parked up nearby and had some lunch and read for a bit beforehand. My Kindle was still on strike, and by this time had been banished to a ziplock sandwich bag with 2 of those bag things that absorb moisture from things that aren't supposed to be moist. I spent the time dipping into the 1000 page Rough Guide to England, which we bought specifically because it is written for foreigners and therefore much more entertaining.
We arrived at the pony trekking centre a bit early so I would have time for a nervous wee, and then spent a few minutes looking at the different horses peering over the stable doors. I spotted one called Cindy who I thought would be ideal for me, as I think my feet might have touched the ground on either side, but she seemed to be settled in for the day.
We then spotted a line of much bigger horses that seemed to be waiting to go out somewhere. Three of them seemed pretty chilled out, and were all matching patterns of black and white. The fourth one was the odd one out, a pale grey colour with a few black spots, and was somewhat restless, making that impatient horsey noise, flicking its mane around and shuffling its feet like it was on hot coals.
I'm sure you know what's coming...
Our pony trekking leader, Steph, arrived after a few minutes, asked the four of us (there was another couple in the group too) to stand side by side so she could decide which horse to put us on, and then told each of us the name of our horse. My horse was called Blue. Needless to say, when the restless horse was led out, Blue's name was called and it was time for me to spend two hours sat on the back of what I was fully expecting to be a wild stallion that would gallop out of control through the forest, knocking my head on tree branches and throwing me off it's back into muddy puddles or worse.
We started the session off in the barn, practicing how to stop, walk, and jog. The jogging was a bit scary and I knew my bum was going to be hurting by the end of the trip.
Then we set off into the forest. Fortunately Blue seemed to be much more relaxed with a rider on his back, and seemed more interested in trying to eat tree leaves and ambling along at a pace that even Cindy the tiny horse could have managed, than doing any crazy horse behaviour. He had to be periodically told off by Steph for excessive eating or going too slow. I had to sympathise with him over the eating. It was a lovely way to see a bit more of the forest, and despite my initial terror, you couldn't wipe the smile off my face for most of the trip.
We did a few bursts of jogging, which was a bit nerve racking because Blue seemed to be trying to overtake all the other horses, but it turned out he was just getting a safe distance from Claire's horse Sheyenne's oversized feet. We thoroughly enjoyed our 2 hours, and were sad to get off when we got back (although our bums and legs were quite relieved).
Afterwards, we headed straight for our chosen campsite which is called Hollands Wood. It's in the forest and there is a possibility that some ponies could wander in. It has everything we need including toilets, showers, laundry, other camper vans to compare (unfavourably) to George, and people trying to erect large tents to watch smugly whilst drinking beer. Probably the best thing about having a campervan is the smug feeling you get by turning up at a campsite, parking up, and then whatever the weather, sitting either inside or outside having a cup of tea or a beer within minutes of arrival. Meanwhile families with large tents and air beds struggle around our little zone of tranquility.
We had a barbecue, and then made some cupcakes on the BBQ, which turned out rather soggy. We're not sure if this is because we'd ran out of eggs (the mix called for 2, but we just splashed a bit of milk in instead to see what would happen), or that we were too busy drinking wine and being smug, and put them on when the coals were getting a bit cold. We've decided they'll be no good tomorrow so we're going to have to eat them all tonight. Every cloud has a silver lining.
The forecast for the weekend ranges from apocalyptic to British summer time sunshine and showers depending on whether you listen to the Daily Express or the Met Office. I know who I'd rather side with, but just in case, we have decided not to bother with putting George's pop top or canopy up in case there is even a hint of the tornados and cricket ball sized hailstones the Express is predicting. And we were slightly unnerved by the reception staff here eyeing our canoe and nodding knowingly at us when we booked in.
Tomorrow we're on the move again, where to will depend on the weather. To start with we're going to do our laundry (I'm on my last pair of pants), then do some more shopping in town, before heading onward in the general direction of West.
Fingers crossed, my Kindle seems to be behaving itself now. Further update tomorrow.
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