Home again, home again, jiggity jig...

Frida returned to us... mended, in  fine fettle and to our great astonishment: she now has first gear...!

This has made negotiating steep hillsides in Devon rather less stressful... I held her at biting point several times, just for the sheer hell of it.

Best of all, on her first day back , we managed to secure a much sought after front row spot in the car park at Gwithian and so, following our final foray into the waves, we threw together a slap up, post-surf breakfast and sat scoffing it in the sunshine before it was time to wend our way home northwards and eastwards...

But we were after all, homeward bound. And so after a brief stop to break the journey once again on Dartmoor... we waved farewell to the West Country for this year.

Dartmoor Babies

Van-less in the West Country...

Well, the AA man arrived and with an 'I'm glad I'm not you, mate' nod and wink to The Boy, he took dear Frida away to be mended somewhere in Newquay... but not before I sheepishly unpacked all of our camping gear, passing it to The Boy who repacked what we could fit of it into the boot of his car...(Thankfully, although rather inexplicably, he had brought with him a spare tent... )

And so, with the promise of seeing Frida again in five days time... (just in time to drive home again)... we drove out of Devon (in a car!) and onwards to Cornwall... and back to glorious Gwithian, where The Boy and I had such a smashing time earlier this year.

Mainly, we surfed, swam and had barbecues... and the babies wore only their wet suits or pyjamas... and it was a blissful week... (despite having to slum it in tents.)

Sunset Surfing, Gwithian Bay

Don't look... just don't look...

I love The Boy, god knows I do... but he refused to pay attention to the sensitivities of Frida's delicate gearbox... and look what happened... *sigh*

It's true that she had no first gear at the time... it's also true that she was parked at the bottom of a rather steep slope outside a house somewhere on Dartmoor... however, it's also true that I had already managed to successfully  negotiate these things in second gear... albeit by taking a bit of a run-up.

The Boy however saw things rather differently.

Perhaps I should have simply shouted, sworn or taken over... but The Babies were strapped into the back seat and I tried to keep a lid on it as he revved and revved and revved and failed to get any further up the hill.

Result: burnt out clutch and a van that wouldn't go. (Secondary result: very sheepish looking Boy in driver's seat, three very curious Babies in back seat... and a very weepy lady owner in the passenger seat.)

Worst of all, we were en route to Cornwall and supposed to be camping out of Frida for the next week.

Dear AA Man, 

Please help.

Signed, 

Weepy Lady Van Owner 

(parked somewhere on Dartmoor)