We crashed our first home into a ditch. We’ve all done it haven’t we. There you are dreaming of a life on the open road, the fresh winds of freedom thundering through the cars air conditioning unit, when you look behind you to see the house of your dreams (ish) bobbing its way off into a ditch. Crash. Straight into a concrete drain. What the dickens!
It was a disappointing moment. A bit of a low point. This was supposed to be our home for the next year.
“Why’s our house in a ditch, Daddy?”
“That’s an excellent question girls.”
Anyhow, no one got hurt and we have learnt that it’s important to get your caravan serviced before driving around stupid, rubbish bumpy French roads. However, we did insure it so you don’t need to start a crowdfunding thingy for us just yet.
But back to my story. It was only when we sold it on (it’s not roadworthy but it is liveable) to a recently divorced chap named Laurie, that I realised what a strange thing it was that we were doing.
“What’s Laurie going to do with it?” I casually asked our friend.
“He’s going to live it?”
“Live in it?! A caravan. Really?”
He looked at me with a puzzled tone.
Oh…oh…I see. Yes. In a caravan. Just. Like. Us!
I instantly had a image of Laurie; a bit smelly, hair unkempt, wearing clothes a day or two too long, grubby finger nails. Then he hit me. That’s me! I am Laurie. It was like Fight Club. I staggered backwards, gasping for air. Beads of sweating gathering on my brow. The room started to spin and my vision blurred. It can’t be. Can it?
“Does Laurie have kids?” I ask panting, panicking.
“Yes! Yes, he does. They visit him in his caravan.”
Ahhhhh, it’s me. I am Laurie!!!!
Actually, I’m not Laurie. Phew. But he is. Poor chap. And we are living in a caravan.
Living. Not for a week, or two weeks. Lots of weeks. Exactly. With all, well almost all, of our worldly belongings with us. Its a 7 metres long box and 2.5 metres wide. It has 3 bunk beds, 1 master bed, a kitchen, a bathroom (shower room to be precise), a small dining area, and a wardrobe for our clothes. Plus us. 5 people. And I’m not small. Not surprisingly our favourite phrase is “let’s get outside!”