Somewhere along the A17, and in place name terms I haven't a clue where, is a large bungalow with lots of flowers and brightly painted vintage tractors on display near the roadside, and though I stopped there a few years ago and took several photos I thought it was worth stopping again to take a few more. The tractor collection seemed to have grown since the last time I stopped there and it included a few newer models; painted in their correct livery and surrounded by masses of bright flowers the whole lot made a really colourful and eye catching display.
With several photos taken the rest of the journey was completed with no further stops and I arrived at the camp site just a few minutes before noon. I knew I would be on my favourite pitch, No.47, so I drove straight round there and parked up then walked back to reception to pay the site fees for my ten day stay. With just one small camper van in the far corner of the field that part of the site was otherwise deserted so I was able to put the dogs on their tie-out cable on the next pitch, and with no wind to hamper the proceedings I soon had the tent up and pegged down, but it was while I was setting up the inside that disaster struck.
Carrying a couple of pillows from the van which was parked at the side of the tent, and not having closed the passenger door, I tripped over a guy line. It happened so suddenly that I couldn't put my hands out to save myself and I landed heavily, full length on the hard ground with most of my weight on my left shoulder. It sort of hurt, but after cursing myself for being so careless I carried on with what I was doing and thought no more about it. After all, I don't think there's a camper anywhere who hasn't tripped over a guy line at some point in their camping life and yes, it probably looks funny to anyone watching, so I was rather glad there was no-one around to see what I'd just done.
The good weather had followed me all the way from home and it had been hot thirsty work sorting out my home for the next ten days so I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the sun with a couple of cans of Coke, then just after 5pm I took Sophie and Poppie for a walk through the nearby heath and back along the beach. As I walked along the sea wall above the sand I noticed a movement just up ahead and when I got closer I saw that it was a rabbit on the beach. Now I know there are lots of rabbits in the heath and I've seen them on the camping field many times but that's the first time I've ever seen one down on the beach; I watched it for a while and eventually it hopped across the sand and back up the nearby slope to the heath.
It was later that evening that my fall of earlier on made itself fully known; pain had settled into my shoulder and as I lay in bed I didn't know where to put my arm to relieve it. Luckily I had some cheap paracetamol in my bag so I took a couple of those and eventually managed to find a reasonably comfortable position to settle down, though I had my fingers metaphorically crossed that my shoulder would be okay and I wouldn't be needing to pay a visit to the local A & E department the following day - that really wouldn't be a good start to the holiday at all.