Friday, May 23, 2003

 

Day 30. Cricklade Wilts. Saturday 24 May 2003. White Horses and Calne

Today we exchange cars for a small red Nissan, or a least Ian did for us. We do have him running after us and we don't seem to thank him at the time.

Vicky had gone down to Usk to relieve her sister Helen who was looking after Doreen now that she was out of hospital. Vicky took schoolwork with her for marking. The exams were in progress and so it was a busy time for her

Ian took us to the famous Vale of the White Horse originally cut in the white chalk downs by prehistoric man. So long ago. We parked in the National Trust car park but the uphill walk was a little too far for me without frequent stops. I'm ok on the flat but on upward slopes I need rests on the way.

An ice-cream van was parked up here so we all had a cone each and as we ate and enjoyed the view a National Trust representative approached us requesting us to take part in a survey. We willingly did so.

Ian driving, we then headed down to Calne in Wiltshire by little side roads and through picturesque sleepy out of this world villages all tucked away in their hollows from today's modern world. I thought Gillian should have seen these. She would have been blown away by their old world prettiness.

Arriving in Calne I had difficulty in recognizing the village and main street I once knew. I recognized a shop once a cafe but other once familiar landmarks were missing. I recognised a hotel I used to visit in the late 50s but again I looked for other familiar signs. They were gone, I felt sad and a little deflated this should have been one of my highlights.

Well I knew where Compton Bassett was so we went up there. I, immediately turning off the A4 saw the site of the large cafe once much frequented by RAF personnel. The building had gone of course when the camp closed down. Futher up the road were new houses and buildings and then I saw the stone pillars of the old camp gates. I had expected nothing really just possibly a field gate and fields.

As I got out of the car there behind the locked gates was the tarmac road and the guardhouse now looking sorry for its self. All the buildings had gone of course and an oil company leased the land. After a shower of rain we tried to photograph a large metal plaque on one of the gate pillars showing the layout of the camp buildings but its shiny surface prevented us taking a decent photo. Trying to minimise the reflection the camera battery ran out! Certainly not our day!

From the plaque showing the camp layout I think I was on the low side with my estimate of the number of personnel, which I listed in my RAF writings. Counting the accommodation blocks the camp may have held up 2000 personnel.

We returned back to Cricklade by way of Wotton Bassett with me vowing to return to Calne and walk around the town on foot to get my bearings and take photographs of the place and have a glass of scrumpy (cider). Then return again to Compton Bassett to try and find an entrance to the old camp. We didn't of course, something else was usually on, and a full day was needed to return to Calne and Compton Bassett. It is a mistake to try and do too much in a day but then we (I) never learn!

On the way back we saw a road sign New Zealand 1/2 mile. Going down an ultra narrow road we saw 4 houses and a farm. There was no one to query and we left still curious.

posted by OldEric 4:11 pm