Norfolk Part 2: Things deteriorate

A good night’s sleep was had and breakfast, which I had selected the previous day, was scheduled for the civilized time of 9am.  I washed, dressed, tarted up and sat down at the communal table.  There was only one other guest for the late shift and, in the company of our hosts, Wendy and Edwin, we chatted happily as grapefruit (presented with a crisp doyley and sweet peas) followed by a big cooked breakfast and coffee were tackled successfully.  The sausages were Wendy’s family’s secret recipe made for her by the butcher in Mundford and deliciously meaty they were too. 

With my hands on my tummy, I returned to my room and packed my bags.  Wendy had said I could leave my stuff there and return to the room to freshen up before the service at 3pm.  I decided I would have plenty of time to visit Castle Acre Priory and set off in good spirits.

The Priory and the Castle at Castle Acre offer a powerful insight into the knock-on effects of the Norman Conquest.  These, and the town’s fortifications, were built by the Warenne family; William de Warenne had fought at the battle of Hastings and was busy stamping his authority on the English countryside.  In the 1080’s William imported a small group of monks from his existing priory at Lewes in Sussex and his son gave them the new site and building began in 1090. 

These monks had come from the great monastery of Cluny in France which was one of the most influential religious houses ever established.  The Cluniacs were famous for the length and rigour of their devotions, but also for their love of art and decoration.  The Warennes had been so impressed when they visited Cluny, that they decided to establish their own Cluniac house in Lewes.  Although the Warenne family retained great political and social prominence, the priory gradually began to decline until it was closed in 1537, along with many other religious houses, during The Dissolution.

It was very peaceful and I prowled about happily, taking as long as I liked to taken certain photos, waiting for the clouds, lying in the grass and at no point did anyone need the lavatory or start a fight.  It was blissful. 

At about noon, I reluctantly headed back to my car.  I started the engine, slipped it into first and…. nothing happened.  I did not move an inch.  I popped it into reverse and inched backwards, then made another attempt to leave the car park.  Nothing.  I knew immediately that the clutch had gone.  It had been slipping a bit the day before, but not in such a way that would have led me to believe that my days would end at Castle Acre Priory.  Someone offered to give me a push, but in such a half-hearted and wistful way that I couldn’t do it to them. 

But whist!  I am a member of the AA so I rang them immediately and, once I had got past the 5 minutes of information that was slowly draining the credit on my ‘phone, I was promised a Man within the hour.  I had not anticipated exposing my pale blue skin to the ravages of the mid-day sun and there was nowhere shady to wait where I would be able to see the AA Man  arrive, so just so you know, I also have extremely nasty sunburn on my arms and shoulders.

AA Man arrived.  “It’s definitely your clutch” he said.  You don’t say.  I handed over my membership card and the dreaded sucking in of air occurred.  “You only have Roadside”, he said “and your B&B is more than 10 miles away which is further than you’re allowed.”  I enquired what I should do.  I was informed that I could upgrade to Relay, which would cost £89 and then, because I had upgraded at the site of a breakdown, I would have to pay mileage back to Market Harborough which would cost a further £89. 

I’m sorry to say, I began to cry.  You see I only had £10 in my bank account and £39 in my purse.  Obviously being a Sunday, no banks were open  but if I could have paid when I got home, I could have transferred some money on the internet and all would have been well, but payment had to be made there and then.  The alternative was to leave the car there, get someone to come and get me from Mundford then drive me home after the service, THEN persuade a friend to drive me back to Norfolk with a tow-rope and bring the car home again for repair.  The logistics of this were just overwhelming.  I made begging ‘phone calls.  My mum paid for the upgrade and the father of my children paid for the mileage. 

By this time I realised that I was going to miss Rev. Marple’s licensing service – the very reason I had gone to Norfolk in the first place – and would have to go to the B&B, pick up my stuff and then head off home.  But no, it was not that simple.  AA Man was not allowed to go more than a 68 mile radius from his home.  I would have to be taken to Guyhirn , just outside Peterborough, where I would be transferred to another AA Man who would take me home.  Just bear in mind that it takes approximately 20 minutes to load the car on to the towing machine in the back of the van.

I arrived back at the garage in Market Harborough at 6.45pm and, after writing a note to the garage and posting it and my car key through the letterbox, writing a note for the car windscreen and purchasing a parking ticket to prevent a fine because I had to park in Sainsbury’s car park, and finally being deposited at my house, it was 7.15pm.  Seven hours from the time of the breakdown.

My precious weekend away, which should only have cost me the £32.50 B&B plus petrol and a bit of light trough, had ended up costing £560.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, but I then had to set to and work out how I was going to get the children to school and me to my various activities over the next three days, including an appeal hearing in Northampton  which would decide whether my son would get into the school I desperately want him to attend in September.  Fortunately my friends and neighbour rallied round and everything worked out.

I’m sure I’ll see the funny side any time now. 
At least I didn’t have the children with me……