After nearly three years of embracing the campervan life I’m toying with hanging up my Anthony Worrell-Thompson porta-loo and awning. Potentially selling my mobile home to the highest bidder, or to a slightly lower bidder if the buyer can teach me how to juggle scorpions without being stung.
Incidentally, that last observation was made very much tongue-in-cheek. Juggling scorpions is near the very bottom of my existential bucket list; one place below cleaning a Great White shark’s teeth, and one above inhaling next to Donald Trump’s flatulent stooge Rudi Giuliani.
Also incidentally, when stating I’m contemplating hanging up my porta-loo and awning I make the notion figuratively. I do not possess hooks robust enough to take the weight of either of those hefty camping accessories.
Yeah, I suppose I could have just cited I’m considering hanging up my van keys in my descriptive, however, if I sell the vehicle, I won’t have van keys to hang… Oh ok then you win, I’m thinking about hanging up my campervan keys… Are you happy now?!… Bloody readers!
I was supposed to be away camping in Northumberland with some buddies as I write. However, a bug has laid me low so I’m unable to join them for a three-day van break in the village of Beadnell, on England’s northeast coast.
Yours truly missing out on a trinity of dusks and dawns exploring the magnificent Northumbrian coastline. My malaise robbing me of Darrin’s top-notch lunches, Tim’s immaculately cooked alfresco breakfasts, and an opportunity to witness if my brother Ian will drink the van’s engine coolant if he runs out of wine.
Aside ambling aimlessly around the locale, during these ‘team building’ breaks we ordinarily chew the fat (Tim never cuts if off the bacon!), quaff fine ales, and embrace the culture of this historic place.
This small, but perfectly formed, village’s sites include the 18th century church St Ebba, named after King Ethelred’s daughter. Discerning visitors also afforded a blue flag beach, a colony of little tern’s and limekilns dating back to 1747. The latter kilns apparently used for curing; I’m unsure what they cured but I suspect it was something like herrings, as opposed to leprosy or smallpox!
When last in Beadnell, in August 2024, I sought to fill my ornithological knowledge voids about the little tern bird. Subsequently, I asked a local fella to educate me about the feathered inhabitants. The old guy fleetingly looked me up and down before revealing “They’re just like terns, but smaller.”… Feeling there was little else I needed to know about the diminutive avian, I thanked him before heading towards the Craster Arms pub for a swift livener.
Sources claim Beadnell takes its name from Bede Hall and was first referenced in literature in 1161. I’m confident you’ll sleep better knowing that snippet; after all, I nearly nodded off writing it!
Incidentally, the source above was Wikipedia. Apart from West Yorkshire taxi drivers, my trustworthy ‘go to’ encyclopaedia when seeking to augment my knowledge database.
That being said, not all taxi drivers are as reliable as Wiki. While on a recent journey dodging heavy Harehills traffic with the recklessness of a Wacky Races contestant, my driver revealed he thought East Anglia was in Belgium… Thank god for SatNav (GPS) is all I can say!!
Anyhow, I am disappointed to have missed my trip to that enchanting village on the northeast coastline. Hopefully I’ll get an opportunity to camp there before I sell my van later in the year… If I sell it!
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