We’re only at Ashurst campsite for two nights and it seems churlish to ignore the meal offerings at the pub next door so we wander there in the early evening, avoiding the short cut across the field due to its having stiles to cross- a no-no for me at the moment.

It isn’t busy, in spite of the site next door but service still appears a bit slow. One issue with hip replacement is there are some restrictions on what I can and can’t do. I must sleep on my back, I mustn’t bend more than 90 degrees or twist and when sitting my operated leg must be sloping down. It surprises me how many seats aren’t level or actually tip back. I need to scrutinise every venue’s furniture to find a suitable seat. Benches aren’t good so I choose a table with rattan dining chairs and have to take a cushion from one to put behind my back.

These days most menus disappoint me. It’s hard to find anything to eat that isn’t smothered in some chilli or garlic product. The one starter we choose to share is ‘off’, leaving us with one option. I feel bad for the amenable waiter who is trying his best, repeatedly going to find out from the chef if anything is available for me to eat. I must say here that it isn’t down to fussiness on my part- until I was diagnosed with UC I ate anything and everything. Nowadays restaurants are much the same in that nearly every item has been doused with a sauce, or an oil or a marinade containing chilli or garlic [2 items I’m not able to eat], leaving me with an option of fish or steak and chips. Ho hum…

The lamb cutlets are very good [even though the kitchen couldn’t resist putting hot, spicy salsa on the side!].

Next morning it’s time to pack up and leave, but we’re not off home yet and have promised ourselves a day at Lepe country park- a Hampshire park next to the sea with outstanding views over the Isle of Wight and the coast. There’s a good car park next to the beach, which is filling up quickly as we arrive. Nevertheless, by driving to the end and some judicious manoeuvering, the van gets parked. Here, there’s a brisk, refreshing breeze whipping the sea up into white caps, sailing boats on the horizon. It’s not a wide, sandy beach, rather more shingly and wild, but has a charm of its own and plenty to look at.

Up, then, out of the car park and to the park path, walking on a gravel surface which turns to sand after a while. There’s a bizarre, ‘D-Day’ play park featuring climbing nets and tunnels like an assault course. Some, like us, are here for the walk, others for a quiet piece of beach. But few have opted to come this far. Further on there are remnants of the D-Day departures from the second world war.

It’s time to turn back, and down to the cafe for a modest but respectable lunch then coffee in the van before we think about how we’ll get home. Our normal route is blocked by a serious fire which has caused people to abandon vehicles on the tarmac, has destroyed the road’s surface and buckled barriers. But our route takes us through Beaulieu, where some donkeys are holding up a queue of traffic by sheltering in the shade on a bend, which is a cute sight.

A little local knowledge goes a long way so by weaving our way through the New Forest roads we are home. Now to unload..

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com