Mostly just a place to stop, the idea of picking Doncaster was because it had a very big carboot sale on Sunday. I needed a bike, lawnchairs and a few doodads, so I thought I'd go. Overnight was a tiny campsite nearer Rotherham than Doncaster, found only by a long meandering path set out in the camping and caravanning club guide. It turns out these sites don't want to be found by anyone else - they are only allowed five pitches, and these fill up with people who use the book. The main purpose of this place was as a fishing camp.
The whole site was surrounded with still misty water, apart from one side which was a railway track. I'm beginning to think there's a rule in England, that campsites can only be placed next to railway lines. Since I grew up next to one, it doesn't bother me, but it's a little odd. In the morning, the place filled up with people in long wellies with poles and nets, staking out pitches on the riverbank. I filled my water tank, and motored off, fishless.
The carboot, though, turned out to be a bit of a waste of time. My Mum, who is a very wise lady, told me so, but I didn't listen, did I? The site was a sea of mud, the goods looked like pound-shop rejects from a bygone era, and everyone seemed to be speaking either Russian or Punjabi. An experience, for sure, but not a shopping experience. No bikes, some lawnchairs but neither good nor cheap. I'm reconsidering both purchases in light of the space limitations of the van, and the fact that the back door (where I'd like to hang the bike) is often the only easy way out, after you've squeezed the van between two cars into a tiny Euro parking space. I will leave that until later. Public transport seems to work, so far.
