Here we are, parked up for the night on a Motorhome aire, just off the A2 outside Canterbury.
It’s actually a Park and Ride for the city but as the we have visited before, we thought that we’d take advantage of the hostelry at the main entrance rather than immersing ourselves in city culture. Anyway the Archbishop isn’t home for a afternoon tea. Pinot Grigio or tea? Come on, we’re on a trip, retired and living each day as it comes. No contest!! Here’s the proof, the Tarts are supping at The Old Gate Inn
It’s actually a Park and Ride for the city but as the we have visited before, we thought that we’d take advantage of the hostelry at the main entrance rather than immersing ourselves in city culture. Anyway the Archbishop isn’t home for a afternoon tea. Pinot Grigio or tea? Come on, we’re on a trip, retired and living each day as it comes. No contest!! Here’s the proof, the Tarts are supping at The Old Gate Inn
No day passes without an incident and we had two today. Firstly we entered a garage for gas and fuel and whilst Sue was hollering “ mind the bollard “, I was smacking each fuel pump handle with the giant wing mirror that we have on the van. If they had been dominoes they would have fallen in sync.
Then there was the payment machine at the car park. Being frugal, we noticed that if you arrived after 4 pm you only had to pay a pound In went the coin. Small print said “until midnight”
Sue, being the clever person that she is, made the observation that you don’t pay until you leave because the ticket won’t know how long you stayed. Smug mare. So I got in the van, drove the full circuit in order to get a new ticket so that we can escape at 6 am and not miss the train.
Feeling a bit of a numpty, I left her to guard our space!!!! My revenge.
Then we came to the pub.
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