Gone Fishin'

Gatwick Airport is the second busiest airport in Britain, only slightly less busy than it's near neighbour Heathrow. It does hold it's own record though. It is the busiest single runway airport in the World. 52 flights an hour at peak times take off and land on the runway which runs approximately East-West.

Henfold Lakes near Dorking are a peaceful series of 5 fishing lakes. Peaceful, that is, in between the 52 flights an hour buzzing overhead. Henfold Lakes was where I found myself on Wednesday evening, together with a 30 year old camper van, an excitable 4 year old lunatic and an equally excitable 30 something year old wife, clutching two tickets to the show jumping at Hickstead the following day.

How could I be so foolish ? Not the camper van, she was fine, albeit a little heavy on the juice. Not the camp site either. The noise became background noise soon enough and the lakes were pretty. It was even good value at £11 for the night. No, I was referring to the Hickstead tickets. I have to admit, to my eternal shame, I bought them.

I've had some good E-bay purchases in my time. £8 for two tickets to the Heineken Cup Final for example. That was a good purchase. Grand National Tickets for £20 was also a bargain. I've also had some rather poor E-bay purchases too. The bagpipes for example could never really be considered as a wise purchase. In my defence, m'lud, I was very drunk at the time. The Hickstead tickets though, I was sober. Perhaps I didn't plan it right, thinking that Jo would take her sister. Chickerell Primary School sports day put paid to that and hence I found myself being dragged off kicking and screaming to bloody Hickstead to watch the bloody show jumping. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Until now, Jezebel had not been out of Dorset in the previous two years. Our longest trip since we got her back on the road had been the twenty odd miles to Eype. Weymouth to Dorking is nearer 140 miles. I decided that the best way to tackle this mammoth trip was by dozing in the back and letting Jo drive. It was raining, but with a positive forecast we were looking forward to a pleasant barbecuing evening by the lakes. I awoke in Hampshire and took over the driving and navigating, exploring most of the country lanes within a 5 mile radius of our destination. Those extra gears (yes, we now have 4 ! forward gears !) made for a much smoother ride.

The weather forecast was wrong on the whole. We still managed the pleasant barbecue, just did it hanging out of the back of the van. We slept in the roof for the first time too. Well, when I say slept.... I dropped my pillow and needed a wee from about midnight onwards, just didn't want to disturb everyone else.

Next stop was Coulsdon to collect a fridge. 30 minutes drive, if you know where you are going. We took 60 and took the last 5 miles very cautiously due to our newly acquired issue. Excessively spongy brakes. Just what you need when you are about to collect a 40kg lump of kitchen appliance. Strangely though, as we scoured the local garages for brake fluid, the problem seemed to heal itself and we were off again, complete with enormous fridge, to bloody Hickstead.

So, bloody Hickstead. What can I say ? Infested with bloody ponies and young girls called Porsche and Scarlett. Still, the jodhpurs looked good.