Everything’s packed, Harry Hymer is prepped and the motor is warming up. We’re away for just a couple of days, not quite the ‘week or two’ of the song, but still. It’ll be a lovely little break, rain, shine, mist, fog, whatever.
By the sea, by the sea, we’ll be happy you and me, by the lovely seaside of Budle Bay Farm Campsite, just north of Bamburgh. We were there a year or so ago, and it’s basic, simple and a delight.
I’d like to feel that we’re following in an old tradition indulged by farmers from these central upland parts, of making a visit to the seaside after the hay has been harvested, but I’m probably just indulging myself in wishful, sentimental thinking. No doubt the upland farmers never did take a holiday away, because there were always the cows or goats that needed milking. And yet, maybe occasionally a day-trip, usually east, would not have been unknown, if the hired hand could take care of the chores for the evening, perhaps.
Nowadays, we sometimes share animal duties between our neighbours and ourselves: Plough the gentle gelding needs hay in the winter, of course, but he’s pretty low maintenance in the summertime. Doris the golden cocker spaniel princess is always welcome to stay with us, though she pines for her beloveds. Our own Kali cat dines well on rabbits, but enjoys a familiar stroke and conversation, while the ducks perambulate in search of their own sustenance, the two remaining chickens have their automatic feeder, and Gordon the guinea fowl merely needs a daily handful of mealworms to keep him going. So, all creatures considered, our shared animal duties are minimal. A short summer holiday beckons!
After stopping for provisions, and a little fuel, we’ll pitch up at the campsite sometime around noon or thereabouts, level up, and wind down the awning if it’s not too windy. Set up the picnic table and the comfy chairs. Break out the gin and tonic and ice from the freezer. Settle in for a long afternoon’s rest. Maybe a lovely stroll on the beach before dinner.