My most memorable Easter, since childhood, was about 20 years ago, maybe just a little more. We had a touring caravan in those days, a 14' Monza, and we made good use of it. It had an awning as big as itself and, inside, gas heating, an electric hook-up for where ever possible, a TV that would work off a 12v battery if necessary and every utensil you could wish for.
That particular Easter we decided to go to the North York moors, just above Whitby. We would stay at a small campsite at Grosmont, next to Goathland where Heartbeat is filmed. It was quite cold for April but it didn't matter as the van was always warm. There would be just me, Colin and Nik, who was about 9, as the older 2 had better things to do.
The weekend made its presence felt on the way there, on the Good Friday. We happily trundled over the moors, past Fylingdales where Colin had used to work, then came to the road where we had to turn to get to Grosmont, higher up than the main road. It was a steep road and it had some sharp bends. On one side of the road there was a sheer drop. We had got about half way up when we met a bus coming the other way. The bus was on the "drop" side but you know how it is, you'd feel guilty if it fell down the side of the hill because you were in the way, so Colin did some very skillful manoevering and got the car and caravan hugging the ditch so the bus could pass.
We found the camp site, a small field of sheep next to a pub, and settled in. It was getting even colder but, we reminded ourselves, it was always colder on the East coast. We'd just got soft, living in Cheshire. We spent a cozy night, only disturbed by the odd sheep bleating and a bit of a bump when one, apparently, blundered into the side of the van.
Next day we decided to go into Whitby so we set off down the hill again. At about the spot we'd encountered the bus we met another caravan having been being towed up the hill but now stationary. The driver had pulled in as far as he could and was looking red-faced and flustered. Colin stopped and asked if there was anything wrong. The chap said he'd had to pull in because a bus had come down the hill and he couldn't get his caravan moving again, at which my intrepid husband jumped into the car's driving seat and, gunning the engine a bit, got the rig moving and took it to the top of the hill while I reversed our car to a straighter bit of road to avoid being mown down by any passing buses - or caravans.
After a day in Whitby, showing Nik where we used to live, where her siblings went to school and all the places we liked, we went back to the caravan. It was distinctly chilly now. This was before the days of mobile phones, even before Colin's first one which was the size of a house brick and twice as heavy, but there was a phone box outside the pub so I went to ring home and see how Jo and Alan were doing. I was met with the very sad news that one of my aunts had died, the previous morning, but I was to stay where I was (on my mother's instructions) as everything had stopped for the Bank Holiday, the hospital couldn't even release the body and there was nothing I could do.
Next day was Easter Sunday and we decided to have lunch in the pub. It was even colder, outside, so we spent most of the afternoon in the pub. Colin said he'd take Nik to the North York Moors Steam Railway the next day and I'd stay in the van and have a rest.
They went off to the station at about 11 a.m. I lay down with a book but soon dozed off. It must have been a couple of hours later when I woke and looked out of the window. All I could see were a few blurry sheep. It was soon apparent that they were blurry because of the blizzard that was raging outside. The field was white, the sheep were white, the pub was rapidly becoming white, the road had disappeared.
The railway travellers got back about 5 o clock. They had had a wonderful time, choo-chooing up and down the line to Pickering. Colin said it had been a bit slippy on the road but he liked that.
We went home the next day. Going down the hill was a bit hairy, though it didn't faze Himself, and the view from the road over the moors was beautiful. The snow had all gone by the time we hit Leeds and the North West started a reasonably warm spell. It remains a very memorable Easter.
That particular Easter we decided to go to the North York moors, just above Whitby. We would stay at a small campsite at Grosmont, next to Goathland where Heartbeat is filmed. It was quite cold for April but it didn't matter as the van was always warm. There would be just me, Colin and Nik, who was about 9, as the older 2 had better things to do.
The weekend made its presence felt on the way there, on the Good Friday. We happily trundled over the moors, past Fylingdales where Colin had used to work, then came to the road where we had to turn to get to Grosmont, higher up than the main road. It was a steep road and it had some sharp bends. On one side of the road there was a sheer drop. We had got about half way up when we met a bus coming the other way. The bus was on the "drop" side but you know how it is, you'd feel guilty if it fell down the side of the hill because you were in the way, so Colin did some very skillful manoevering and got the car and caravan hugging the ditch so the bus could pass.
We found the camp site, a small field of sheep next to a pub, and settled in. It was getting even colder but, we reminded ourselves, it was always colder on the East coast. We'd just got soft, living in Cheshire. We spent a cozy night, only disturbed by the odd sheep bleating and a bit of a bump when one, apparently, blundered into the side of the van.
Next day we decided to go into Whitby so we set off down the hill again. At about the spot we'd encountered the bus we met another caravan having been being towed up the hill but now stationary. The driver had pulled in as far as he could and was looking red-faced and flustered. Colin stopped and asked if there was anything wrong. The chap said he'd had to pull in because a bus had come down the hill and he couldn't get his caravan moving again, at which my intrepid husband jumped into the car's driving seat and, gunning the engine a bit, got the rig moving and took it to the top of the hill while I reversed our car to a straighter bit of road to avoid being mown down by any passing buses - or caravans.
After a day in Whitby, showing Nik where we used to live, where her siblings went to school and all the places we liked, we went back to the caravan. It was distinctly chilly now. This was before the days of mobile phones, even before Colin's first one which was the size of a house brick and twice as heavy, but there was a phone box outside the pub so I went to ring home and see how Jo and Alan were doing. I was met with the very sad news that one of my aunts had died, the previous morning, but I was to stay where I was (on my mother's instructions) as everything had stopped for the Bank Holiday, the hospital couldn't even release the body and there was nothing I could do.
Next day was Easter Sunday and we decided to have lunch in the pub. It was even colder, outside, so we spent most of the afternoon in the pub. Colin said he'd take Nik to the North York Moors Steam Railway the next day and I'd stay in the van and have a rest.
They went off to the station at about 11 a.m. I lay down with a book but soon dozed off. It must have been a couple of hours later when I woke and looked out of the window. All I could see were a few blurry sheep. It was soon apparent that they were blurry because of the blizzard that was raging outside. The field was white, the sheep were white, the pub was rapidly becoming white, the road had disappeared.
The railway travellers got back about 5 o clock. They had had a wonderful time, choo-chooing up and down the line to Pickering. Colin said it had been a bit slippy on the road but he liked that.
We went home the next day. Going down the hill was a bit hairy, though it didn't faze Himself, and the view from the road over the moors was beautiful. The snow had all gone by the time we hit Leeds and the North West started a reasonably warm spell. It remains a very memorable Easter.