This next 5 posts will chronicle the summer holiday on the Isle of Wight that Jof arranged for us.
The ferry people said arrive at 1030 but it was very busy so the yellowjackets gesticulated wildly and we got a place on an earlier ferry. Jof spent 20 minutes in the queue for coffee and 20 minutes waiting for it to cool down by which time we'd landed.
Island inhabitants rushed up to us and begged for tales from the mainland. The former Roman province of Vectis had been in a triple-dip recession since the Sestercius was unexpectedly phased out. At this point wireless internet access failed permanently so I will have to update all this upon my triumphant return to civilisation: I apologise deeply for the break in transmission. Not far from Fishbourne we found
Seaclose Park on the way into Newport. It's a medium-to-large swingpark with the "Madonna" double rope pyramid, a zipline, basket, double twirler and many other exciting items. We stopped off for 30 mins' hard labour in a very decent swingpark.
After a go on the basket with some local youths, I sang "You spin me round right round like a rock baby" approx 435 times until we reached the
Bargemans' Rest for a slap-up lunch (the slaps were because of the 1 line of the song x 435) which Jofs' friend had recommended. It's chock full of boating memorabilia with ships' wheels, cannons and oars all over the place. I climbed the "Do not climb" wall under the flyover bridge next to the pub and on we went. The activity of the day (before even booking into the holiday village) was
Carisbrooke Castle.
We approached incorrectly by a series of tiny lanes of approx 3 ft maximum width. It's a splendid castle if a little ruined, with a spanking outer curtain wall, a very deep well from the top keep (from where you can see the Spinnaker Tower) and lots of nooks and crannies. Jof was unimpressed by the museum bits - the only original things were the walls, all the rest were artists' impressions of what it may have been like but I loved it. Then I volunteered for the army. The Sergeant did drill training ("Preeee-sent ARMS! Hup 234" etc) and I (with 25 other random conscripts) wielded a wooden Lee-Enfield through some parade manoevres and 3 times round an obstacle course.
For my last event I chose to climb the top keep again but by the time we returned Jof was tired so we didn't get to play with the real Lee-Enfield the Drill Sergeant had.
We renegotiated the same dreaded Newport one-way system from yet another direction and escaped its gravitational field to
Cowes. This seaside town has extremely classy bits that are both picturesque and expensive: they all face the sea. The land approach is stranglingly difficult and we finally found a Sainsburys in the basement of a converted pub a mere 85 yards from its own car park. I climbed a disused crane on the wharf.
With only 7 wrong turns we made it to the apartment complex/holiday chalet-village
Gurnard Pines. Having investigated all the cupboards and unpacked as best we could, we chose to try the indoor swimming pool which was warm and fun. There was a kid of approx my age in the changing rooms on the way out who was argumentative and bossy - totally unlike me of course. We were destined to meet again.
Then we tried the childrens' play area and soft play as advertised in the brochure but it was closed for the duration of the summer for maintenance.
This next 5 posts will chronicle the summer holiday on the Isle of Wight that Jof arranged for us.
The ferry people said arrive at 1030 but it was very busy so the yellowjackets gesticulated wildly and we got a place on an earlier ferry. Jof spent 20 minutes in the queue for coffee and 20 minutes waiting for it to cool down by which time we'd landed. 
Island inhabitants rushed up to us and begged for tales from the mainland. The former Roman province of Vectis had been in a triple-dip recession since the Sestercius was unexpectedly phased out. At this point wireless internet access failed permanently so I will have to update all this upon my triumphant return to civilisation: I apologise deeply for the break in transmission. Not far from Fishbourne we found Seaclose Park on the way into Newport. It's a medium-to-large swingpark with the "Madonna" double rope pyramid, a zipline, basket, double twirler and many other exciting items. We stopped off for 30 mins' hard labour in a very decent swingpark.
After a go on the basket with some local youths, I sang "You spin me round right round like a rock baby" approx 435 times until we reached the Bargemans' Rest for a slap-up lunch (the slaps were because of the 1 line of the song x 435) which Jofs' friend had recommended. It's chock full of boating memorabilia with ships' wheels, cannons and oars all over the place. I climbed the "Do not climb" wall under the flyover bridge next to the pub and on we went. The activity of the day (before even booking into the holiday village) was Carisbrooke Castle. 
We approached incorrectly by a series of tiny lanes of approx 3 ft maximum width. It's a splendid castle if a little ruined, with a spanking outer curtain wall, a very deep well from the top keep (from where you can see the Spinnaker Tower) and lots of nooks and crannies. Jof was unimpressed by the museum bits - the only original things were the walls, all the rest were artists' impressions of what it may have been like but I loved it. Then I volunteered for the army. The Sergeant did drill training ("Preeee-sent ARMS! Hup 234" etc) and I (with 25 other random conscripts) wielded a wooden Lee-Enfield through some parade manoevres and 3 times round an obstacle course. 
For my last event I chose to climb the top keep again but by the time we returned Jof was tired so we didn't get to play with the real Lee-Enfield the Drill Sergeant had. 
We renegotiated the same dreaded Newport one-way system from yet another direction and escaped its gravitational field to Cowes. This seaside town has extremely classy bits that are both picturesque and expensive: they all face the sea. The land approach is stranglingly difficult and we finally found a Sainsburys in the basement of a converted pub a mere 85 yards from its own car park. I climbed a disused crane on the wharf. 
With only 7 wrong turns we made it to the apartment complex/holiday chalet-village Gurnard Pines. Having investigated all the cupboards and unpacked as best we could, we chose to try the indoor swimming pool which was warm and fun. There was a kid of approx my age in the changing rooms on the way out who was argumentative and bossy - totally unlike me of course. We were destined to meet again.
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