On a damp but brightening January day, we are leaving Exeter on our way to Glastonbury.

We’ve had a few days to see my parents which is always good, before we head to France. The night before we left we went to a bistro pub called The Redwing Inn in Lympstone and had a fantastic meal. You know how sometimes when you go out to eat you’re often underwhelmed with the experience? Well, none of that here as we all enjoyed great food with a wonderful atmosphere. Top stuff and we’ll definitely be back but given the width of some of the roads in Lympstone, probably not in Beatrix.

Glastonbury is our next destination. I’ve always wanted to see Glastonbury and this is a part of the country that I’ve never spent much time in. I think the draw is in part the long and rich history of the land here and ofcourse the radiated fame of the festival. Whilst there’s no chance of getting festival tickets, we had more luck with finding space at a campsite, Higher Edgarley House, which is a couple of kilometres from the town.

We travel up on the motorway and then via a winding A road that takes us right through Glastonbury. Although it’s not too tight, it did require a bit of concentration so it wasn’t until we arrived at the campsite that we realised we were right underneath the Tor and its tower. Having a cup of tea, we made a plan to walk up to the top tomorrow and then immediately got too excited with the chance to see the sunset from the top and so set off right away for a walk.

After a bit of huffing and puffing, we reached the top and watched the sun set across the landscape with oranges and pinks giving way to purples and deep blues. Happily, it was also the clearest day we had during our time in Glastonbury and so an important lesson was learnt…… Just get out and do it….. but have a cup of tea first.

We’d been told that Glastonbury was well worth a visit and that a day to look around the town was probably enough and so it proved.

A short walk away, the High Street is an interesting and, in my experience, unique proposition. The ubiquitous brands been scared off the main street by shops containing coloured crystals and bright, second hand clothing all of which are accompanied with the wafted aroma of burning incense sticks. 

Whilst walking towards the Abbey, we were passed by what I can best describe as a pagan high priest and priestess. Both heavily made up with their pristine, hooded, white robes flowing behind them, it was certainly an impressive sight and so totally unexpected that we had to make sure we closed our mouths and didn’t stare. I assume they had bigger plans than nipping out to pick up the Saturday papers but who knows here. Reaching the end of the High Street, we’d acclimatised and crossed the road to a quieter corner to wonder at it all.

Our destination was the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey which covers a vast 36 acre site in the centre of town but is strangely almost completely hidden from view.

The little museum at the entrance gives you a good flavour of the history with its Roman origins giving way to development through Saxon times. After the Norman conquest, the original Abbey continued to grow in importance but was then destroyed by fire in 1184.

Rebuilding started immediately but as you can imagine this was incredibly expensive and so, in an amazing 12th Century PR coup, the monks announced that they had found the burial place of King Arthur and Guinevere on the site of the Abbey. The remains of the King and his Queen were moved to a black marble tomb in the nave of the Abbey and thus a steady stream of revenue was guaranteed for the Abbey, which continues to this day. Although even the museum takes a fairly sceptical tone about this, not least as the legendary King is largely fictional, I was happily suckered in and wandered around the ruins looking for the burial place and imagining the black marble tomb.

As you might remember from your history lessons, the wealth and influence of the church, including Glastonbury, continued to grow until King Henry VIII decided he’d rather like to be in charge of things and dissolved the monasteries. In 1539, this caught up with Glastonbury and resulted in the Abbot being hung, the Abbey looted of its valuables and the building slowly dismantled so that the stone could be used for other buildings and roads. Sadly the tomb of King Arthur didn’t survive this and was lost to time.

I appreciate the situations are different, but walking around the ruins I was reminded of the news footage of ISIL destroying ancient city of Nimrud in Iraq and wondered if it was as violent and destructive here in 1539.

As our wise friend Brian told us, there’s always maintenance tasks to manage with an older van and as we had a few days in Glastonbury, we took the opportunity to sort a few. We’d been able to wash Beatrix in Exeter so she was sparkling clean but afterwards we discovered the stairs had decided to work intermittently and we’d also had a strong whiff of gas outside the van as we’d parked up so wanted to check out the new tank pipework for any leaks too. Thankfully with some help from our fantastic hosts and a next day Amazon delivery, we managed to get both problems sorted.

We had planned to move up to Cheddar and see some of the sites of Somerset but there’s not too much choice in campsites this time of year and the price for what is available is out of our budget for now. Cheddar Gorge will have to wait for next time.

We decided instead on heading to the New Forest. We’d stayed at a ‘Camping in the Forest’ site just after we left our bricks and mortar home and we both really loved the area and this time our first stop was to Homefield Campsite just outside the town of Lymington. 

Lymington, it turns out, is a really pretty little town and after a bit of window shopping, we had a good walk around the harbour. As Sally was working the next day, I got out to see Highcliff Castle and the beach there which is a very well cared for bit of coastline with views out to the Isle of Wight and The Needles.

We had a bracing and windy walk out on the spit from Milford-on-Sea to Hurst Castle. Hurst Castle, which is well worth walking out to by the way but which is sadly starting to fall into the sea, isn’t one of those pretty medieval castles but has the low, dark, menacing look of a proper fortress. It’s been developed and redeveloped for use in every conflict from the Napoleonic wars to the Second World War and standing there, you can see it’s such an important defensive point for The Solent and Portsmouth.

The campsite at Homefield is rightly popular and there was no room at the inn for us over the weekend so we decided to head just 10 minutes up the road and into the New Forest itself.

Setthorn Campsite is one of a number of Forestry Commission sites that allow you to stay right in the woods and the nature of the New Forest. Last year, we woke one morning here surrounded by wild ponies grazing which was really special and as well as the wildlife there are fantastic walks through the enclosures and heaths. It’s really kind of magical and we got the same feeling arriving this time. The only downside (?) is that there isn’t much phone signal here though which we remembered after a few frustrating minutes of trying to get onto the internet.

We give up to our books. It’s really more of reading and writing place anyway.

Hope you’re having a good weekend,

Sally, Toby and Merlin