Hayley and I have been in the new forest this weekend, camping in a little pop up tent. Things started in a unpromising manner last week, when I entrusted her with the responsibility to select and book the campsite. Soon after this she forwarded to me the confirmatory email, stating quite blatantly in bold that the campsite she had chosen had no facilities, but did welcome dogs (I hate dogs). When interrogated, she revealed that she had not actually bothered to look at the details of each campsite, but had just booked the one with the nicest name. She’s a simple girl. She did however manage to highlight in bold red text for me the detail about dogs being welcome. Very thoughtful.
Fortunately we managed to change the booking, to the disappointment of many of my colleagues and in the event it had lovely showers, thanks Dan Bunder for showing such concern last week. The only problem was that this campsite also welcomed dogs, and in fact boasted of ‘Dog Showers’, something I cannot picture (how would the dog operate the shower?). As we approached the wild woods where the campsite was meant to be there seemed to be nobody about, and I became concerned that the site was being occupied by hostile packs of wild hounds, enjoying the hospitality on offer.
We sped down there on Friday night, stopping only to buy some crap music (RnB hits or some such, with shiny people on a beach on the cover) and some fuel. In the petrol station was a guy who said he’d taken a wrong turn, and how could he get to Exeter? Turn right and carry on about 300 miles, muppet.
Arriving was a relief in itself, for Hayley drives a mini as if she’s taking part in the Italian Job. Her solution to any adversity is greater speed. Can’t see what’s ahead? Accelerate, so that it comes into view more quickly. Approaching a roundabout and suddenly realise you don’t have time to slow down? Just speed up a bit, and try to jump it. She almost killed me at Cressex last week, heading the wrong way around a major roundabout in the wet before shuddering to a halt in front a green light.
Handily she has a pop up tent, which meant we could build it in a few minutes. We did have to drive around in total darkness for a while trying to find a space at least 10 yards from anyone else, without any puddles or haunted woodland. Our drunkenness and ipod speakers were sure to upset those nearby.
Then we drank a bottle of wine each, as I tackled the job of plugging the gaping hole on one side of the tent, which I managed to do with 2 blue and white plastic bags, although it did look a bit like a trapped dolphin. We seemed to have major condensation inside the tent, which I suspect can be blamed on there being something wrong with Hayley’s breathing. On the second night she added to the internal moisture content by knocking over a can of stella, which poured beer under all the bedding. She tried her best to pick it up quickly but then burst out laughing and couldn’t reach it, so the rest poured out as well. Reach for it Hayley! Just pick it up as soon as you can! There’s a clever girl. Oh, too late.
On Saturday we were very excited to be able to visit Paultons Theme Park, no apostrophe, and apparently no theme either, unless the theme is ‘Pauls’, and I don’t think it is (I would know). We tried hard to find a good sign to photograph me in front of the ‘ton’ and make ‘Paul s Park’, but they weren’t really playing along.
This is the biggest theme park in the new forest, that’ll be ‘Only’ then, and boasts over 50 attractions – although most of them are just a shed with some totally irrelevant, worn sign on the front proclaiming something incredible to be inside, such as ‘Magic Carpet’ or ‘Digger Ride’, or a bloke wielding a stuffed animal in a mildly threatening manner.
We headed immediately to the ‘Cobra’ the most fearsome rollercoaster on site, rising to a height of some 10 yards possibly before plunging terrifyingly into a sequence of turns and loosely-bolted bits of track. To be fair it was quite scary, but not necessarily in the way intended, more the shambolic construction of the track.
We managed to resist going on the log flume, which went round in basically a square route, and the flying frog, which like all the roller coasters, disappeared into a shed for a short section. I think Paultons must have done a deal on about 300 sheds from Wickes.
There were also go-karts, on a course described creatively as ‘a classic oval’. Nearby was the swamp of ‘grunting dinosaurs’ I had been so looking forward to, but the grunting was not what I had hoped for. There was a fairly generic loud roaring noise on repeat, that I suppose was ascribed to all the dinosaurs simultaneously.
At this point we studied the map looking for anything to do that was not entirely lame. Our attention was drawn to ‘Wizard Percy and the Lost Dragon of Paultons’. Wizard Percy is just a man dressed as an Owl, albeit with a face that looks suspiciously like Nemo. Later in the shop there were hundreds of unsold Wizard Percys available. It got me thinking that in a development oversight the owners must have suddenly realised they had no mascot and no money left, and come up with the idea of buying up a huge quantity of cheap faulty yellow Nemo faces, and wondering what kind of body to stick them onto – and coming up with the idea of Percy the Wizard/Owl.
The Lost dragon of Paultons Park is not a man dressed as a dragon, as might be expected, but for some reason a man dressed as a knight, holding a blue toy dragon about the size of a cat, with a terrified look on its face. Check him out here:
http://www.paultonspark.co.uk/2009/ridesattractions/attractionsall.html
Further merriment followed at the Wind in the Willows attraction, a big shed with a bunch of slowly rotating woodland mammals inside. Some of them looked quite unsettling and whoever knocked that place together must have been really high. Nearby was the magic forest, which Hayley was very excited about, but it was just another shed. Before going in I was secretly hoping it would be an even more weird woodland experience dreamed up to use up the leftover moles and badgers from Wind in the Willows, but inside were a load of strange nursery rhyme scenes, like 3 men in a tub and a woman living in a shoe.
We had a go on ‘Jumping Bean’, a ride that goes up then down, etc. This actually made me feel quite sick. I was also a bit troubled by the simplistic naming used on many rides. Here are some examples: Rabbit Ride; Ladybird Ride; Percy’s Bouncer(?); Penguins. Genius. ‘Penguins’ surprisingly featured a number of penguins in a pool. They were being fed fish. Another of the rides was a pair of tractors, making agonising progress around a circular track. The name of this was Trekking tractors.
Underneath the ‘Jumping Bean’ was the tagline “It’s a Hoot! Hoot!” I don’t get this.
Here’s a better name: Meerkat Manor. It was a shed with a meerkat sat thoughtfully outside – there was no apparent door to enable the meerkat to enter his manor though.
Incidentally, visiting Paultons gave me the idea for a new theme park – Single Mum Land. It would feature rides like “The Double Buggy of Doom”.
At this point we cut our losses and turned our attention to obtaining a disposable barbecue and some food. We eventually got these at a Morrisons store, no apostrophe, along with other camping essentials like beer and a magazine. On the way back we stopped in our town of Lyndhurst to look for things like tongs, a blanket, possibly some cutlery. Brilliantly there was a camping shop, but it had nothing useful, only daft contraptions like “Ipod Chairs”. I bought 2 forks. This was the first time I have ever bought 2 forks.
There was also an array of nice cars and a Ferrari showroom, where Hayley got a little bit inappropriately aroused, as she did over a Porsche parked at Morrisons too. We did manage to buy a blanket in Budgens, in a fetching burgundy colour.
Then we made our way back to begin the barbecue.
Barbecues possibly were not invented with me and Hayley in mind. I have the common sense of an 8-year old and Hayley is not exactly the holder of a PhD. They told us to elevate the disposable barbecue off the ground, so I positioned it on top of the cardboard box it came in, on top of the rug. What’s remarkable is that everything didn’t go up in smoke sooner. We managed to cook the burgers without incident, except for Hayley not knowing where my 2 forks were, and hence trying to flip the burgers with a Pringles lid.
Then on went the raw chicken pieces, Hayley using the same forks, and licking them clean. A few minutes later I became aware of a thickening of the pillar of smoke and a slight glow around the base of the cardboard, which rapidly spread and engulfed the box in flame. My reaction was one of panic, as I assumed the whole blanket and tent were about to burn down. ‘This is becoming a situation’ I remarked to Hayley, who helpfully burst out laughing. I had already burnt myself twice on the barbecue so I had to use wet wipes to pick it up and cast it away onto the grass. Fortunately the rug was melted in a very neat hole, but evidently not very combustible and the fire went out pretty quick. This meant we had a nice red cape, and I put it on the next morning to try it out for size.
We just about managed to cook half the chicken. Hayley asked me if we should leave out the rest for the wild horses to pick at.
We went to sleep at about 8pm. Staggeringly uncomfortable, at one point I was awoken by Hayley coughing straight into my face from about 3 inches.
On Sunday we packed up, which took ages because those pop up tents are a bit tricky to fold. Eventually a young lady on reception sort of helped, and we drove to Beaulieu, “Bewley”, a country estate and museum of motoring. If Paultons was full of children, this place seemed at times like a rally for personal mobility vehicles. The motor museum was pretty interesting, featuring some old cars and some of the land speed record cars. It also had some of the vehicles used in the James Bond films. There was a little exhibition on Top Gear and some of the modified cars they have had on the show.
Running around Beaulieu is one of the most pointless monorails I have come across. It goes between 2 stations about 400 yards apart, and potentially saves you about 20 seconds compared to walking. It might be argued that it enables those of limited mobility to get around quickly – until you realise the station is at the top of 2 flights of steps. The train itself is rickety and appears to be rather unsafe – it shut down for half an hour today for “testing” – and the track looks like it’s made of cereal boxes and bobbins. But then, are not all monorails pointless, almost by definition?
Elsewhere was Beaulieu Palace house and gardens. This was worth seeing, although unbelievably Hayley walked in, went straight to the visitor book and wrote ‘This place smells funny’ – and put my name first. She also had a quick go on the piano which had ‘Please do not touch’ written on it.
There were some interesting items in there, such as a kitchen and pantry with a lot of bells on the wall, one for each room.
There’s also a ruined abbey, where Hayley took a picture of the chives.
Another feature I disapproved of was the ‘Dog Waiting Area’. This is ridiculous – it featured a wall, some bowls and some chains, rather like a medieval dungeon. I cannot imagine any dogs, hateful things, wandering around Beaulieu and thinking to themselves, ‘I need somewhere to wait an indefinite period of time but I can’t abide these ghastly human waiting areas… oh look, a Dog Waiting Area, I shall chain myself up at once and behave impeccably.’
And then we drove home, and I’m still alive.
I still wonder at the sanity of these people who have perfectly good homes, but choose to pack up hideous specialist camping clothes and drive into the woods to sleep in a small bag with some other people. For a couple of days it’s fun, but no more than that.
To be fair our tent was unusually small. Sat in it, in one of the photos I look like I've just arrived from space in some kind of interstellar egg.
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