Our first proper destination on this northern trip is to a site near Durham called Strawberry Hill Farm. The older sibling I’m visiting cannot accommodate a van but we’re near enough to do visiting and meet up.

When we arrive to site, having religiously followed the instructions and not our SATNAV, we pull up opposite reception- which- in spite of the sign indicating it should be open- is firmly closed. We peer in at the window at the tables, chairs and stacked shop shelves [the site claims to serve breakfasts and teas]. We stand at a side gate marked ‘private’ with a view of sloping lawns and dogs not inclined to bark. There is no bell, buzzer or phone number to ring. At last a young man appears and opens up. The site is quiet. We’ve booked. Were we not expected?

We’re directed through a barrier and to our pitch, which is fine. We’re opposite a large, new shower block- unfinished. The existing showers are next to reception, there are two and they are a little past it, something we knew already from reviews. But if it’s clean and there is hot water I’m rarely concerned about site showers.

Later on, the rellies turn up to visit, which is lovely, except that while we’re in mid-flow of catching up, an interested campsite caretaker is Hell bent on getting a conversation too…

In the early evening we decide to go down to the nearest pub- which is about half a mile down the road, walkable except that there’s no footpath alongside the busy dual carriageway. A path down through the fields would have been lovely though. we pile into the car.

We have a couple of days going out and about doing family things in County Durham. The weather has turned hot and once Friday comes we return from an outing to find the site jam packed for the weekend. The ‘Giddiup’ bar [a repurposed horse box] is doing a roaring trade and the tables outside reception are full.

It’s time to take our leave, but as we’re not about to make this journey without seeing a bit more of the north of our country so having packed up, we turn the van towards the Pennines. The day becomes squally and we’re dogged by traffic jams. We’re not able to find anywhere remotely ‘picnic’ for lunch, which we must stop in a layby to have, the views across the moors obscured by gales and rain.

We’re heading to the Lake District- a beautiful part of the UK that is also a tourist magnet. The last time we came up here was during a winter, in January, cold but still lovely. Now though, in June, it’s much busier and our preferred site, at Keswick, is packed and has no availability, so we’ve opted to visit a much less well known place at Ullswater, Pooley Bridge. The site- an enormous area by a working farm, is only just out of the village up a steep hill, but it’s walking distance. So far so good!

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