I have been scrolling back through the pictures from the last few weeks, and what hit me was not the people or locations that are the main subjects but the flowers and the colours that have been my big passion this year.

Our daily walks have taken us along the coastal paths in our area, and each day we have noticed the development of each plant; it feels as though we have been part of each bush, tree and flower’s development from bud to fruition. What has struck me was how short a time they all have to dazzle. The lilac came and went, the frothy white hawthorn is now berries ready to ripen, and the magnificent poppies are now picturesque with their seed pods. I have so enjoyed a tequila tonic laced with my home-made elderflower ice cubes in the evening – so delicious. I can’t believe the bottle has gone, though I must pass some of the shame over to Vicky who helped me finish the last quarter last weekend.

Two weeks ago we finally flew our cage after four months and drove south to Buxton in the Peak District to meet Natasha, Leo, Bonnie and Hazel at a campsite. It was fantastic. We did have a few worries as I had not done this kind of camping before, but Natasha was there to quietly assist with a few tips. The children just loved our tent with the blow-up mattress, and it looked so small and funny compared to everyone else’s , with their posh awnings and mats and seating areas. Ours was literally jump from the  grass  then hop into bed! But… we loved it. And the facilities were great and it was sort of therapeutic marching over the wet grass in the morning to brush teeth and to shower, and see clouds and foxgloves on the way.

The first night was freezing, so we didn’t bother  undressing. The second night we lit a fire, made from an old tumble drier drum which we rented and then filled with kindling and wood and coaxed to burn. We sat around it and studied the stars and Leo spotted the Space Station. The night was dark and we slept like logs.

The children were like gypsies, befriending other campers, and I had fun watching Bonnie stalking like a cheetah, checking out the lay of the land. Finally she brought back a group of kids which she treated to a magic show, and that was that… they were off running about with nets with Hazel tearing after them. ‘These are not shoes, Granny, these are crocs, and they are massage crocs.’ She was so proud, but abandoned them for bare feet as she ran after the bigger kids. Natasha cooked, I cooked, we all drank and it was fabulous.

We did visit Thor’s cave, way up high in the Manifold Valley. It reminded me a bit of the cathedral-like caves in Halong Bay in Vietnam. This one has been home to stone age people and also wild animals such as mammoths and giant bears.

The surfaces are worn down to almost glass, and the entrance had an oily slipperiness. Of course I was wearing white. Not the best colour for exploring and getting down a slide. ‘Just do what I do, Granny,’ said Bonnie, flying  down with no hesitation at all.

Later walking through the fields and small villages I was at the mercy of Bonnie’s commands. Fortunately everyone else had paired up and were some distance ahead or behind.

‘When I hit the stick on the ground three times, like this… (tap tap tap) you have to turn in a circle, and when I swing my stick like this you have to run forward and jump back, OK do it Granny.’ And I did.

‘No, no, not like that, you must pay attention, you must turn like this.’

In the end I had about ten commands each of which I had to remember and I was worn out from all this sudden unexpected exercise. I called a halt when we finally hit the main road and real people were passing.

The next day we drove to Eyam, the plague village, which seemed appropriate in our current pandemic.

We drank coffee in the centre and explored and admired the cottage gardens and read plaques with the names of the poor souls who had died there in 1665. They had locked down their village to prevent the spread of their disease, and so many had died, it was quite sobering.

We wandered through the church yard and read the grave stones. Natasha and I were quite bemused with one, a Gerald Cooper who had buried both his wives in the one grave, Hannah was 36 and an affectionate wife and Anne was 87. There was no description, maybe she was a long suffering one!

John had a chuckle at the inscription of a poor fellow whose inscription was, ‘A Sinner saved by Grace’!

The grasses were high, and the path that led out was overgrown with weed and branches and little Hazel marched along at her own pace before realising she was almost alone. Leo rescued her and later when all the goodbyes were said, and the kisses and hugs were done and the little family were on their way, Leo texted me what Hazel had just said.

‘Do you know what? I think we had a good old laugh at that place.’

John and I went on to Whitby and our new campsite on the Yorkshire Moors. It was wild and bleak and the clouds were gathering.

But we pitched our tent then zoomed the ten miles into busy bustling Whitby. There was social distancing, so we ate our fish and chips on the steps of the City Hall and then walked up through the town and saw the sights.

Then back ‘home’ to the tent. We had a sundowner in the car before retiring to the boudoir. Rain was threatening.

It poured all night, and in the morning it was blissful listening to the drumbeat on the tent. I felt as cosy as a hedgehog curled up in my sleeping bag.

Even the run to the facilities was fine, and we showered and dressed and left. We even managed to boil the water for coffee during a lull in the weather. I felt so weathered, and free!

We drove to Bamburgh in the hope of seeing the Grace Darling Museum, but it was closed. We did get around the castle and wore masks and saw everything we should. The day was glorious and the ice cream wasn’t bad either.

We stayed the night in a B&B in Berwick upon Tweed. A treat after the open field, and it was so clean and lovely. We did explore the town, and wandered down by the bridges, but this virus is such a pain. So much is closed, it all feels so wrong somehow.

We were glad to be on the road again, visiting St Abbs, then finally back home.

The garden was so vibrant, the sea calm, and the King Wa flowering. It was good to be safely back. Natasha sent photos of their journey through France down to the south where they will stay for three weeks. I can taste the figs, the bread, cheese and the fruit. Lovely.

Here we have been living it up with crabs and lobsters and the kitchen has been awash with boiling crustaceans. I so love crab linguine, and the lobsters in any kind of recipe is such a treat. I yell out to the local boatman and if he has any he will come up to the sea wall and we do a little bit of business. Very satisfying.

But tonight I am on strike… a pizza I think. I have to go over and feed Gerry’s new kittens as she and Cathal and the children are off to try camping! Darcey was going to pack her dressing gown and slippers – she likes her home comforts; I can’t wait to hear how they all get on! I think they have packed the kitchen sink so they should be fine!

We did go with Darcey and Dillon to the beach yesterday which was such fun. Also very hot. John buried us and made us look like mermaids, and Dillon didn’t mind at all.

John has completely done Molly’s garden next door, and ripped out old shrubs and  rubbish and old conifers and rebuilt a wall and laid new grass.

She kindly gave him a bottle of Bolly which we will drink way up on the north coast of Scotland where we will be camping for his birthday. Who knows where? Cape Wrath? Scourie, Durness, Tongue or Lochinver? Natasha kindly suggested that we might need to hammer in the guy rope pegs at 45 degrees! I hope she wasn’t suggesting that we might be blown away with the gales!

Bye for now!