Sunday, 1 June 2014

One Woman, A Kid and Her Van

It's been another successful trip away for me, my boy and my favourite possession ever, a kind of Wendy House for the post toddler time of life.  Last night was spent in the aire for motorhomes at Roscoff harbour. Lou's a bit hobblesome after the fall off his bike so after a slap up lunch in town we got out our chairs, sat in the sun, took in the view and read our books side by side. Oh, and stuffed our faces with bakery goods cheese and leftover slices of  entrecote from my earlier meal which I'd snaffled away from the restaurant in a napkin. Waste not,, want not, especially if it's rare roast beef! All was washed down with grenadine for him and beer for me.  I sometimes wonder how much perkier I'd be if I came back from holiday after the extra exercise I normally have and hadn't tipped a whole shedload of rubbish down my gob.  In reality breaks away are never going to be times when I indulge in a major health food kick.

Here's my trusty motorhome, my home from home over the last week.  This is a picture taken during my visit to Cornwall back in March.  It looks a bit grubby on the outside but was taken at a time when I was unable to scamper up onto the roof, part of the process of giving it a thorough clean.  Hang on, I still theoretically shouldn't really be popping up that ladder but that didn't stop me having a go just prior to this holiday. There was a three inch pile of decomposing leaves on top and I was concerned that they'd tumble down the windscreen and obscure the view en route to the campsite in France.  Oo la la dangereux!  So after a thorough two second risk assessment I decided it was a job that I couldn't forego.  However, a combination of water and compost made life way too slippery up there for a girl with a dodgy knee and a  pair of Crocs that quickly lost the power to grip. I got stuck  and had no option but to sit forlornly in a muddy puddle next to the satellite dish. Glamour is after all my middle name, enhanced by all that Portapotti emptying that I do. Fortunately my plight was short lived.  Neighbours exist for the very reason of rescuing you when you've misjudged a situation and got yourself into a stupid predicament.  There's been a stop at a French supermarket to acquire a crate of Stella for Maurice over the road for sorting out another little hiccup just an hour later. It's even more embarrassing than the first incident and I'm not going to 'fess up to the details.  Ever!

Aside from the occasional need to be helped out of sticky situation I love the sense of independence my van gives me and the fact that I can, if the need arises, live off grid for two or three days.  My gas, water and toilet facilities are all on board.  There's even a solar panel that charges a leisure battery and provides a rudimentary 12v electricity supply.  I've learnt to manage the day to day running of these, undertake minor repairs and talk the talk with mechanics when anything goes a bit pear shaped.   It's all very empowering and something that I couldn't imagine getting my head round a few years ago.  And as an accident prone woman with 3D vision the satisfaction of knowing that I can manoeuvre something this big  safely without major incidents is enormous.


  1. Glad that you've had a good holiday. I'm now picturing you perched on top of the van waiting to be rescued!

  2. Come on!Fess up.You have got us intrigued.Really admire you for driving that vehicle.It looks ENORMOUS to me.Barbara

  3. Can't 'fess up. Am too embarrassed. Maurice is pleased with his beer though. Hoping it will keep him schtum! x

  4. I would love to own one of those.