Motorhome, Pub, Skegness & Sunshine

Viva…, Skegvegas!

Zagan’s tucked back in bed, in storage up the road after a weekend’s fun and frivolity in Skegness. My folks have a Skegmansion a few minutes from the sea up there, a wonderful static caravan on a well-managed site where they spend months on end enjoying their well-earned retirements.

My long-suffering parents Keith and Jenny in their cracking static caravan in Skegness

We fancied nipping up to see them for a weekend in August. Mum checked out the cost of the local campsites. Roughly £55 for two nights. **Family Wince** Out came the Britstops book and Ju found a pub just a 10 min walk from them. She called and asked if we could be cheeky and stay 2 nights (the Britstops deal is 24 hours) and they immediately agreed. Booked in for a meal on the Sat night, we were more than happy to pay our way (although Ju was poorly so only the three of us ate).

The pub turned out to be an oasis of calm, set back a mile from the sea with a large car park and an area of grass big enough for a rock concert (literally, there’d been one a while back). When we arrived there were even a couple of other motorhomes, although we only got to say hello to a Yorkshire Terrier sat in the window of one of them, sadly not the owners. As per the other Britstops we’ve stayed in, the pub owners paid welcoming but casual interest in us. No-one turns up hammering on the door demanding you get in there and start sinking ale; the relationship feels a good one. Although packed with punters both Friday and Saturday night, we slept like logs both nights, thanks again to the Britstops system.

The other alternative to the pub car park seemed to be parking alongside the road in the town, although this didn’t look enticing and notices advised not to even think about it. The central car parks are all restricted by height-barrier, apparently after the Roma apparently invaded the town in 2014. Roma or no Roma, England and motorhomes don’t seem to mix anything like as well as France and Camping Cars or Germany and Wohnmobiles. Maybe one day they will? Until then, it’s Britstops for us!

As Charlie went walkies with my folks, we spent a good couple of hours in Natureland, peering through glass at boz-eyed chameleons, feeding fur-shaved llama (while attempting to look manly…), being amazed by surely-that’s-a-piece-of-wood butterflies and smiling at the recuperating seals.

Once we’d sweated our way through the tropical butterfly house we headed for the beach. Stood in the North Sea looking east I imagined myself in Norway looking west back towards the UK, a warm buzz running through my body. Just checked Google Maps though, and I was more likely looking at northern Netherlands! The most southerly parts of Norway are on the same latitude as northern Scotland. Remind me to pack a jumper for our Arctic Circle run next year (and a map).

Sunday morning Ju rested up in Zagan while Dad, Charlie and I headed for Gibraltar Point nature reserve. Three miles away from Skegness town centre, it could be a million miles away. The sun shone, the wind blew, and Dad impressed me with his incredible knowledge of, and warmth for, birds and wildlife in general. After a cuppa eyeballing and sniffing some wild hops Dad found, we headed back for home.

Through the lashing rain we drove, laughing at Zagan’s amazing three wipers sloshing away. No music though. Fancying the ability to play MP3s, we whipped the old radio out to find someone seems to have opted to chop through half the wires rather than just use the usual connectors! Errrmmm, another job on the list – fit a standard connector back on the van then pop the new radio in. Something to keep me busy as the final few weeks tick away.

Cheers, Jay