Speculation was rife all weekend - what was the National Star Centre? This sign was spotted as we hurtled through the country lanes of Gloucestershire on our way to Dymock. Was it a FAME school, a study centre for astrology or astronomy, or a place where all the lost Red Star parcels are sent? Our mission for the weekend, if we chose to accept it, was to find out what this mystery place was.

We spent a chilly Friday night in Dymock village hall before venturing out on Saturday morning to the dig site, which is an old hospital where a canal basin is being constructed. The plan is to demolish the hospital, construct the basin and an interpreter centre/tea shop and build houses on the rest of the site. The London WRGies task was to clear an old barn on the edge of the site which was full of old hospital equipment, and then to start taking apart the barn piece by piece, for reconstruction as the interpreter centre on the other side of the site. We set to work on this veritable treasure trove of equipment, emerging from the barn with wheelchairs that wouldn't look out of place on the Antiques Roadshow, a budgie cage, upright chairs, and a gaggle of zimmer frames. At London WRG we pride ourselves on our youthful members, so we practiced amidst the mud with the zimmer frames ready for being London Oldies instead of WRGies. We began to remove the slate tiles for reuse, and Martin Ludgate remarked that we could look forward to a 'night on the tiles'. I guess somebody had to say it.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the site operations were not going quite so smoothly. On arrival we had marveled at the amount of heavy plant the local canal society were using, including excavators, diggers and dumpers, not to mention the fact they had a plant manager, a deputy plant manager, and a deputy's deputy. But this marvel turned to sympathy (or was that hilarity) when, by end of play Saturday, three excavators and one dumper were broken down. We kept well out of it in our little corner of the site, quietly dismantling our barn, and then snuck off back to Dymock in case we became embroiled in excavator maintenance for beginners.

Back at the hall, out of a couple of carrier bags of groceries, Martin Ludgate produced a feast of chicken in an interesting sauce with veg and rice, and a homemade jam tart and custard.

We dragged our weary bones to the Beauchamp Arms (conveniently situated just in front of Dymock village hall!) in the throbbing metropolis that is Saturday night in Dymock, and joined the handful of locals who looked like they hadn't moved from their seats since the previous evening. This pub hit the national headlines recently. The locals, led by the church council, had clubbed together and bought the pub to stop it closing and had installed a landlord to run it. Then a couple of months down the line the council decided they were going to put the landlord's rent up, which he objected to and barred all members of the council from the pub. I think the current situation is 'stalemate', but he did welcome the extra business that we brought.

We mulled over our day's work, and mused whether the heavy plant would be working by daylight. Suddenly the pub door burst open, and the week-long campers had arrived from their accommodation, ready for some ale following their three-hour long safety talk (two hours of it being how to use the toaster) at their accommodation in nearby Newent. The landlord's eyes lit up, and he merrily served the extra 25 or so customers. We bid them farewell at closing time, and at the prospect of another chilly night in the village hall, a contribution of £1 from Lesley McFadyen to put into the heater ensured a cosier sleep was enjoyed by all.

The following day we continued dismantling the roof and walls of the barn, leaving just an empty shell of what once part of a watermill on the site. We left the week-long campers to continue our work, heading out of Gloucestershire to join the Sunday night queue back to London. However, not before we all witnessed the sad parting of Martin and Lesley, who were to spend two days apart as Martin was staying on at the camp. All together now, ahhhhhh!

And what of the National Star Centre? Oh yes, we did eventually discover late on Sunday what its function was from local Adrian Fry who had joined us on the dig. He revealed it's where they teach disabled people to drive. Hmmmmm, we rather preferred out own imaginative uses for it, but at least our Mission was accomplished!