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Grove Ferry

I was late up in the morning. I was surprised, as there was no sign of the farmer and his spraying equipment. I had a cup of tea while I tacked down. It was a beautiful morning, so took the opportunity to take some photos.*

As soon as we were ready for the off, I backed up and positioned myself to pull off of the verge. It was reasonably quiet and I was able to crawl back onto the road without causing much holdup. As I was doing so, a car coming in the opposite direction stopped too close to me as I was gently pulling onto the road. Watching the car as I squeezed the caravan past it, the front nearside wheel dropped off of the road and into a deep ditch. Had the woman stopped sooner or backed up a little, it would’ve been easy. I got out, had a look, then having sussed the extent of the problem, got back in, turned the wheel full lock in the opposite direction and pulled myself out. A little further on I spotted an opportunity to pull over in order to check for any damage. All good. Fortunately, the truck had dropped onto the axle. The steering rack had not been hit. I continued on.

After a few bends, we came to Grove Ferry Picnic Site. I turned in towards the car park. There was a height barrier, but it was open. Then I noticed the narrow entrance. I wasn’t going to get in. I backed up and turned into the pub car park, where there is plenty of room to turn around. I then pulled up out of the way and went for a walk to suss the situation. I spoke to a couple of people. It was suggested that I use the layby outside. I went and had a look. Yep. It would do.

However, the layby was full. I waited for a while. In the meantime, I kept looking at the pub car park. Eventually, I thought, “Sod it.” and walked over as I spotted a member of the staff. I asked about the car park and was directed inside to speak to the landlord, John.

I found John and asked him about the car park. I explained that I am a traveller, mentioned the wish to explore the marshes and offered to use the pub. With a smile, John said, “I don’t see why not, as long as you’re out of the way. You are welcome. Everyone has the right to live as they choose.”

Taken aback by his welcoming attitude, I thanked him. He explained that a party was booked for that evening, so it might get a bit loud. He said that the pub will be open for breakfast at 9 o’clock and Sunday roast would be available from 12:00. I assured him that I would be in on Sunday for a roast.

In no time, I was parked up and chilling with a cup of tea.

*see entry Preston-next-Wingham

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