Western Morning News (Saturday)
Oh, the joy of having your house on your back
I’VE just come back from a month’s holiday and I’ve decided that we don’t really need a house – or a garden for that matter. Why? Well, Hubs and I have been living in a campervan, travelling around as free as birds. Well almost free as birds. I’d been invited to daughterin-law-to-be’s hen night – in the middle of Ireland and slam dunk in the middle of our holiday.
So exploring Wales seemed to be the answer, aiming for Holyhead so I could get the ferry to Dublin when the time came. We only stay in rural “certified locations” which are generally fields off the beaten track that can only take five vehicles. It’s usually very peaceful and the dog loves it. Open the door and out she shoots, new sniffs to follow. We love it too. Sitting outside with a glass of something, looking over a stunning view, supper smells wafting from the van is very relaxing.
The weather can be a challenge. During the first few days it rained so much I wondered if we could convert our van into an ark. My fingers hovered over Travelzoo – could we get a last minute trip to a little fishing port in Croatia, a luxury hotel in Rome, or even an Airbnb over a launderette?
Washing clothes on the road is a challenge. When the weather’s nice you can handwash stuff. If we’re static for a few days I’ve been known to lay our smalls on a nearby hedge, or dangle my drawers off the windscreen wipers. Eventually, of course, you need to find a launderette – not always easy in remote areas. I never thought I’d be so pathetically grateful to look at a washing machine when we eventually found a place. I made Hubs go commando, me too, and I washed everything bar the dog.
Clean sheets are the best thing in the world and if ever I won the lottery I would employ someone to change my bed sheets every day, replacing them with crisply ironed linen. No ironing on holiday of course, but the delight of shimmying down in them was wonderful. It’s amazing the small things you take for granted when you live in a house.
Turning out really tasty, cook from fresh meals – including foraging for mushrooms, berries, discarded swedes on farmers fields, etc, is easy with just a small oven and hob. Why do I need a big kitchen at home? Occasionally we’d come across a site with a shower block. These could range from immaculate to dank mouldy spider infested buildings. They might have free hot water or require you, soapy-eyed, to slither across a stone floor to put another pound in the meter. Our home on wheels has a decent shower, but a finite water supply requires a naval wash or quicker if we’ve forgotten to turn the water on.
The bed is a piece of work. It comes down from the ceiling and is the most comfortable bed we’ve ever slept in. Even wardrobe space, something that I get frustrated with at home, isn’t a problem. We live in walking trousers, teeshirts or warm sweaters and sturdy shoes.
The joy of having your house on your back is that you can stay in places that you’d never see if you were in more conventional accommodation. We were delighted to find a miniature Stonehenge creation – 5,000 years of mystery right in the middle of the camping field on the Pembroke Coastal Path.
We stayed in Anglesey where the dog thought she’d found paradise. Endless cliff walks and lovely beaches. We even found a tidal pub. As we came up the slipway, Hubs looked at me mistily. “I’ve just seen something really lovely,” he said, gazing at me and into the views behind me. “Awe yer big softy,” I said. “No, not you,” he replied. “I’m looking at the beautiful slate work on that roof”.
So travelling with such a romantic was interesting. Despite the close living proximity and often dodgy weather we didn’t kill each other, spending our time looking at old castles, National Trust properties and reading. It was, therefore, a bit of a shock for me to find my way to a hen night two hours from Dublin where, for 24 hours I was with 21 women who shrieked and laughed and screamed non-stop. They were darlings all, and it made me realise several things. I felt very privileged to be included. I realise I’m not good with groups of women. I also learned that the many names for men’s bits are actually quite foreign to me, or were until I played some silly games that were a long way removed from Scrabble.
After meandering back through Wales, catching up with a few friends as we went, we felt a sense of sadness that our trip was coming to an end. Arriving home I wondered why we needed such space – does it make us that much happier? I’m not sure about that. One thing did feel familiar though. The washing machine had broken. Going to the launderette was like being on holiday and for once I didn’t mind.
I made Hubs go commando, me too, and I washed everything bar the dog