We talked about it for years! Even tried it a couple of times. You know. Hiring a van for a week just to give it a go. And it was fun. Fellow travellers giving us a wave as we passed them, playing ‘follow my leader’ with an ever growing line of slow-moving but rapidly frustrated drivers. We got ourselves a convoy!

However, life took our eye off the plan for several years. Then at the back end of last year we did a little review of the previous twelve months: Four deaths of family and friends, one heart attack, one stroke, three cancers and countless debilitating illnesses. That night we decided book a viewing of a couple of motorhomes – we would put our dream into action at last.

We actually only looked at the one. Mabel, as we later christened her, was perfect for us. She was second hand but in magnificent condition. Importantly she was not intimidatingly large, given the fact that neither of us was an experienced van driver. The deal was done on the first visit and the next week Mabel became ours.

I drove home on my own having scoped out meticulously my route to avoid tricky roundabouts, low bridges, narrow lanes and that silly woman who lets her dog off the lead when she walks through the village so that she can chase the postman’s van (that’s she the dog not she the owner – although I have noticed the way that she looks at the postman when he passes…. )

We did a couple of ‘dry runs’ (I’m joking! we were knee deep in mud both times!!) accompanied by Nadine and Martin who have their own van and were able to show us the ropes. This week we are flying solo, so meticulous preparation went into the planning of this maiden voyage.
We made a list of all the items we required: Instruction Manual – tick! Food and Drink – tick! Wet weather kit – tick! Sunscreen – tick! Books and Magazines – tick! Blank Will and Power of Attorney Forms – tick! (well you can never be sure what such close proximity in a tense, challenging environment can do to a relationship!), Tranquilisers – tick!

Our first adventures had taken us to a family friendly site with a lovely couple of receptionists ‘of a certain age’.
I arrived, after my first journey of any length, excited and bursting for the loo. Beryl and Doris were sitting in reception one knitting, the other crocheting. They immediately recognised my predicament (my crossed legs might have been a clue) and pointed me to the staff toilet.
Relieved, I returned to reception where Doris ran through the sign in arrangements and Beryl gave me the technical does and don’ts. I nodded enthusiastically as I almost understood every word she said. They were so kind.

Contrast this when we arrived alone for the first time. This receptionist, we will call her Brunhilda, had been fired from the local doctors surgery for being too aggressive. She had clearly stolen someone’s NHS glasses when she left but had forgotten to renew her prescription for depilatory as she had what resembled Adolf Hitler’s moustache blossoming on her top lip. Her first question was to ask where we had parked – we actually hadn’t parked; I was still trying to find reverse to turn around. This did not please Brunhilda who then snapped her way through the ‘meet and greet’ with warnings of dire consequences if we failed to comply with their rules and regulations. ” We emailed you an electric copy of our 28 page rule book. I take it you have read it?” Twenty eight pages? That’s like War and Peace to me and would take me till 2027 to read that much!

Our instruction was to turn left and left to find our allocated plot. However, as Brunhilda had no idea where we had parked, we actually had to do a right and right, but we only found this out (and soon afterwards found reverse gear) when we realised that we were travelling away from our plot number.

The site was easy enough to negotiate. Our electricity point was close to hand so we went for the shorter cable. Well we would have, if we could find it! The long cable was safe and sound in the cable cupboard, but no short cable. Mabel is a neat and tidy van but we could not find the short cable for love nor money. Spoiler alert – it was finally discovered two days later in the furthest cupboard on the van, exactly where you would want the first item that you need to link up the van to the utilities.

Things seemed so easy when we had our mentors on site to guide us but there were so many switches to be switched, valves to be opened, tanks to be topped up and levels to be checked. It had been impressed upon us that if we do things in the wrong order we were likely to cause £3,000 worth of damage!

Inertia overtook us as we worked our way through our running list and we started to make irrational decisions: we won’t put the gas on, as we can’t remove the outlet cowl; we won’t use the shower as we couldn’t be sure that the water levels were at the right level; we won’t use the toilet as we cannot recall how to remove the chemical cassette; and that bed is a bit of a pig! Actually, did we just pass a Premier Inn on the way through?

We managed to get the electricity on and made ourselves a cup of coffee. The caffeine gave us the courage to go ‘stuff it’ and a couple swipes and a few thumps and we are now all singing and dancing (singing in the shower and dancing on the wee that escaped from the toilet cassette when we went to empty it).