\"The Great Escape:\" Herding Pensioners Through a WW2 Theme Park

Just for a little bit of background history to set the scene for my blog, Eden Camp is a modern history museum related to WW ll near Malton in North Yorkshire.

It occupies an actual former prisoner-of-war camp consisting of 33 huts. After the prisoners left, the camp was used for storage and then abandoned.

A businessman named Stan Johnson bought the site in 1985 and was going to set up a potato crisp-making facility but changed his mind and decided to preserve it for future generations.

As the museum was being set up, much clearing, as well as repair and renovation of the buildings, was required at a cost in those days of £750K. The museum is currently owned and run by both Stans's children.

Have to say it's not my idea of a great day out.

As a person who avoids the news and newspapers because I easily get depressed, I wasn't enamoured about their choice of trip but old folks seem to like that sort of thing, along with fish and chips, toasted teacakes and stealing packets of salt.

And before any of you shout "We need to be reminded of those horrors so that it never happens again" - well it already has and will continue whilst ever humans have breath.

I don't need to relive someone else's trauma - thanks.

Back to my story.

I arrived early to pick up 10 very excited pensioners minus Ann as she had chucked a sicky so a chap called Jim had been put in charge for the day.

He was one of the residents but came across as fairly compos mentis and he duly sat in the seat next to me so he could patronise and boss me about but he wasn't a patch on Ann and failed miserably.

As we turned a corner and got on our way - who was stood on the street corner waving us down?

That bloody Ann!

Being a chronic PP (people pleaser) I stopped and let her on, regretting it immediately - burnout and overwhelm followed. I decided to practice selective hearing and got my foot down, arriving at The Museum one hour later.

As I opened the back door and the lift lowered down with a few stops and starts holding Tessa in her wheelchair that actually looked like it had come from the museum - I waved them off for what Ann informed me would be the best part of 4 hours.

4 hours sat in a minibus in an open field in about 80F.

Crikey.

After going around the museum in 30 minutes flat and then snaffling my packed lunch, I read my book and sat in the heat with the window down I decided to have a sleep and this is where the story begins.

I wound the driver's chair back so that it was virtually horizontal, got myself cosy and drifted off to sleep only to be woken by Ann and her motley crew coming round the corner singing "We'll meet again" (not if I can help it).

This time the chairlift ascended marvellously, I secured Tessa with every handle, bolt and chain I could find, whilst that selfish lot got themselves on the bus.

I pressed the button to take her skywards.

But no, despite my frantic pressing of the button, nothing, nadda, diddly - The lift was jammed and whatever I did it wouldn't move. Imagine the scene, dear readers;

80F

Me battling with a jammed wheelchair lift with Tessa (very heavy), both of us sweating like beasts.

Torn fingernails and cortisol levels through the roof.

A serious chance of heatstroke and sunburn

The singing in the bus soon changed to that popular chant "Why are we waiting" and I was broken.

Of course, I did get it working and after a couple of swigs of Jack Daniels (for medicinal purposes only), I climbed onto the bus and tried to put my seat into its usual upright position.

It was stuck and after several attempts, I decided my life was just about over but it had been fulfilling nonetheless.

Think about it - how would it be to drive your car without a backrest? Imagine a stool instead.

Strangely enough, I seemed to gather some resolve, decided not to be so fatalistic and made myself a makeshift backrest consisting of Ann and a few backpacks (only jesting).

I basically drove 70 miles bolt upright and to be honest, quite dangerously, the one redeeming factor was that the minibus became silent apart from the odd snore.

I slept so well that night, using your brain power to regulate your exploding nervous system tires you out.

I must try it more often.