Source: To whom it may concern – I want to ask you to to do something for me.

 

How could I not share this.

This share comes with unconditional hugs – whoever and wherever you are.

 

MinG

It’s taken me several months to get round to finishing this….

The sky was looking decidedly overcast when we set off for Donnington-On-Bain, but that didn’t deter us. We had ‘an appointment’ with the Feline Frolics trail laid by geocaching heroes “Waring and Bain” (names of Lincolnshire rivers in case you are wondering). The trail is another example of straightforward caches, aimed at children. Whilst we are not big on completing trails in one fell swoop, it could be a while before we are back again and the feline connection decided it for us.

Donnington-on-Bain is not far from the Belmont Mast (encountered on Day 1) and the Stenigot radar tower. This had been used as part of the Chain Home early warning system, used in World War Two. Nowadays, my learned friend informs me that the RAF send trainee communications engineers to climb the 360 foot tower to test their head for heights. We fortunately only had a minor incline to address along the side of the amusingly-named Horsebottom Plantation (Horseshoe Plantation is on the other side of the track, but what’s funny about that?).

At the top of the hill we wandered slightly off route to take a closer look at what is left of Stenigot.

It was hard to believe that this unassuming site was part of the defence of Great Britain. Lincolnshire is littered with so many relatively small scale operations which collectively proved so effective.

Twelve caches later we were back in Donnington-On-Bain village and returned to the car after purchasing lunch supplies from the general stores, where we I think we narrowly avoided being enrolled into a lottery syndicate.

More food supplies were required for later in the day, so we headed for The Willows, a garden centre with the (almost) obligatory food hall and delicatessen. When we reached the tills, the assistant asked if I could take advantage of the Thursday offer, whilst pointing to a sign promising 10% off for over 55s. “OVER 55!!” I screamed internally. I should point out that I have recently stopped dyeing my hair which is now grey with charming highlights of silver. I declined (I was “only” 47 at the time and it would have been dishonest). Needless to say, himself was stood behind me stifling a giggle. Had my pride not hijacked my usually quick-wit humour, I would have said “Oh you must mean him” and accepted on his behalf only (he was only 52 at the time).

When I told my boss this story he said that I should have accepted the saving without further comment. He is an accountant.

Pride wounded and full-price provisions secured, we headed to a lay-by in Kirton in Lindsey, for lunch and a potential 13th cache of the day. After dining, I stepped out of the car and strode out to the expected cache hide, only to be cut off by a car pulling in and parking at the right next to the tree that I was going to investigate. I sloped back. We made a coffee and waited for the muggle to move on. And waited. And waited. Eventually we decided that it wasn’t worth wasting any more of our precious holiday time on an already cache-rich day.

Next stop Hemswell, a major antiques emporium, where we did not buy anything, but imagined a lottery win allowing us space and funding for the finer items. We also came across a basket identical to one referred to in Happy Saturday.

For the rest of the day I wondered if I should have bought that basket. Now, I know that it was the right thing to do. It wouldn’t smell of home, or fish and chips. I cannot bring back the past. The memories are enough.

We return to base via RAF Wickenby and talk ourselves out of using the BBQ, again.

It will be our last full day ahead tomorrow. Hrumph.

MinG