Putting up a 3D Jig-saw

WELL,we survived our first adventure in The House on Wheels and are now back home - and already planning our next trek.

The Man of the House coped brilliantly with towing, but I was much more nervous. My role as passenger and navigator gave me plenty of scope to worry. I kept looking through the rear window in the expectation of seeing the HoW backing away from us, as we continued to travel forwards.

Fortunately, that didn't happen, but I was also fearful that the HoW would topple over, or be blown on its side, or that the door would burst open and our possessions would would hurtle out...

On top of that I worried about losing us (my sense of direction is not good), and about something going wrong with the car, or someting going wrong with the HoW, or having an accident.

And if that wasn't bad enough I was uneasy about the House we Left Behind. Did we shut all the windows? Did we lock the doors? Did we turn everything off? Would the cat be good for his 'sitter'? Did I put the rubbish out? Had I left the iron on?

As a result of all this fretting, by the time we reached our first campsite I was a nervous wreck - a condition not improved by our attempts to erect the awning.

What seemed like acres of canvas had to be slid into position at the side of the HoW and manhandled over a framework constructed from a mystifying collection of metal poles of varying sizes. In addition, there were monster rubber bands, ties and metal pegs to keep the assemblage in place.

The instructions consisted of a rather bad diagram on a small piece of paper, and the whole experience was reminiscent of our past struggles with flat-pack furniture -it was like trying to put a three-dimensional jig-saw togther, without the aid of a picture.

Spurred on by our success at a site near home (close enough for a hasty retreat if anything went wrong!) we ventured further afield, but failed to pluck enough courage to wrestle with the awning again.

However, apart from that, we had a wonderful, relaxing week. We stayed on sites surrounded by hedges and trees, with mushrooms growing in the grass alongside dark green 'fairy circles'.

Other caravanners were unfailingly friendly and helpful, offering advice, and showing us what to do.

And people were just as nice in the villages where we wandered around, hunting for information about the Man of the House's ancestors and the way they lived 160 years ago.

Marooned at the end of the Garden

WE have been marooned in our House on Wheels (aka the caravan) - and we were only at the bottom of the garden!

Having gone down there to check things over we were caught in a torrential downpour of monsoon-like proportions, so we shut the door and sat inside snug as two bugs in a rug.

At least we know it is warm and dry, with no leaks. The water pump works; the cooker works and the lights work off the battery. So far, so good!

We have been equipping it with the essentials: pots, pans, tin opener,knives forks, spoons, plastic plates, dishes, mugs and a chemical loo (I have no intention of trekking across a muddy field to 'spend a penny').

I've gathered up the towels wrecked by The Daughters' hair dye, the oldest tea towels, some spare pillows, and have even bought myself a sleeping bag.

The Man of the House, who already has his own sleeping bag, says it should be replaced in its cover each morning to keep it neat and tidy, but since I have trouble getting a quilt into a duvet cover I have little hope of success. It will, I fear, be like trying to get an orange back into its peel.

Caravanning for Beginners

WE have bought a dear little caravan. Like us, it is a little battered around the edges and somewhat faded by time, but it is watertight, dry and cosy.

It has an awning, pale green, velvet curtains and green floral seating, which doubles up as bedding (two single or one double, depending how friendly we are feeling!)

There is plenty of storage space, a tiny shower, the smallest sink I have ever seen, (with a lid to cover it – how I wish I could cover the sink in the house), a fridge, a two-ring stove and a heater.

The Man of the House, who will be doing the driving (I have no intention of towing anything, least of all a caravan, however small it may be), plans to take us to folk festivals and research the family history (his).

I want to go to literary festivals and research the family history (mine).

Clearly, there could be some kind of conflict here, so a compromise will have to be reached, but there is plenty of scope to visit the sites where our great-great-greats lived and worked.

We aim to start by travelling somewhere relatively close, where there are no hills or bendy roads hills, or bendy narrow roads! Then, when we’re feeling confident (and competent) we can venture further afield.

The caravan, is a Lunar Meteor, (or possibly a Meteor Lunar) which sounds a little exotic and mysterious – but not so exotic and mysterious as the caravanserai of the Arab world, trekking across the deserts with camels packed with silks, frankincense, spices, and other precious ‘cargoes’ camels.

Nor is our holiday home as romantic-looking as a traditional Gipsy caravan.

But it is more homely and reminds me of childhood holidays. In those days even static caravans where we stayed had no electricity: the lights and cooker all ran on Calor Gas, and when we stepped inside for the first time there was always a strange but distinctive smell, a mix of mustiness and gas.

Anyway, we collected our caravan yesterday, and set off for home, expecting the journey would take around half-an-hour, but we took a wrong turn somewhere, got lost, and travelled in a huge circle, arriving back at the place where we had bought the caravan an hour or more after we left them!

Eventually we got back to the house, safe and sound, but the trip reminded me of the GK Chesterton poem The Rolling English Road:

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

It is to be hoped that by the time we embark on our first trip our sense of direction has improved, but part of the charm of caravanning is that you explore new places.