retiredmartin

September 2026. Markfield. Leicestershire.

I wasn’t looking forward to the long slog home from Dorset on Monday morning.

For a start, the campervan battery had been judged “marginal” by KwikFit, and with Mrs RM A.W.O.L. in Prague I faced using her step-by-step guide to a restart if it had drained again*.

It can be chaotic getting in and out of the End of the Road site and the tiny lanes around Larmer Gardens, particularly in the mud, but at 9am we sailed through to Salisbury.

Having bored the lads by noting the lack of pubs on the A35 to Salisbury, we stopped for the traditional leisurely** post-festival SALT breakfast and ritual removal of festival wristbands.

And then the part I was worried about, a near 4 hour drive in a loaded campervan with dodgy shoulder.

Well, I may just add an affiliate link for that Argos back rest I bought last week, as the next three hours flew by with no discomfort at all. Thoughts of multiple rest stops disappeared.

“I could drive straight back to Sheffield if you want“.

“Need a wee stop, Dad“.

I know my M1, and I also know which pubs are most likely to be open on a Monday afternoon.

Junction 22, the gateway to north Leicester and Coalville, betwixt quarries and fox hunts, is just a couple of minutes from the Queen’s Head.

An unfussy, only lightly modernised Marston wet pub,

a spotless, multi-roomed interior,

with one Old Boy drinking Pedi at the bar and the most welcoming landlord in Charnwood Forest.

An exemplar bench seat along the side of the wall accommodated our modest contribution to afternoon trade,

where we stretched our legs for 22 minutes and I regretted I was DES, as a quick sip revealed a VERY GOOD Pedigree.

the only slight regret we didn’t tip up a day later for Porto v City and £2.70 Pedi (see also : Whitchurch).

I’d actually stopped here with James during the summer of COVID, and being a creature of habit decided to treat the youth to a return visit to the Altar Stones a minute away in the industrial estate.

Barely 100 metres from the roar of the motorway, this is a micro adventure for folk too busy to drive to the Peak to clamber over rocks,

and like Leicestershire itself, an underrated gem.

*_{It was fine. A 4 hour journey is great for energising a battery.}

**_{“Leisurely” = it took 40 minutes to appear, but was worth it.}