Leaving for Lincolnshire August 2021
The image above represents total chaos. Mel and I have very different thoughts and methods on what to take and what not to take when going on holiday and our views also differ on how to load Ethel. What we do agree on though, is that our efforts normally result in chaos (and a lot of stress).
As we were leaving early on Saturday morning (please note I said early), I brought Ethel home from work (where she’s stored) on Friday, ready to load up and leave the next day. Some essential stuff like waste hog (for waste water), towels and clothes went in on Saturday with the rest stacked in the kitchen. What could go wrong? It sounds so simple doesn’t it? Now factor in Mel who wants to pack the proverbial kitchen fridge and me who believes I am minimalist. This leads to a conflict pretty similar to one in our day to day life where Mel brings something we don’t need into the house and I remove the same thing some months later. This often backfires as some months later, I or a member of the family ask for something and I realise I threw it away months back!
Maybe Mel thinks Ethel is 3 times the size she really is as more and more stuff gets piled up to be loaded and I feel my stress level rising. How are we ever going to leave on time? It will take hours to pack in the morning and we will need a masters degree in Tetris to ensure it all fits. I sleep fitfully next to Mel who probably dreams about other things she should take.
The next morning doesn’t start well as I spend to much time nattering to our friend Greg who is house sitting (chicken sitting) while we are away. This means I am not in the shower till 8am and I had decreed we would leave at 9am. Mel repeatedly says things like ‘we have plenty of time’ and ‘there’s no need to rush’ whilst my head is panicking about the m25 and a1 which turns into the a1(m) and traffic and diesel and getting lost and broken sat nav and every other possible issue under the sun. And this is supposed to be fun?
The final stress is putting the bikes on the bike rack. It is only he second time we have taken the bikes on Ethel and it is another skill which should be on the national curriculum. Whoever designs bike racks clearly doesn’t have a bike as it is nearly impossible to get them on without help. But it is a job which is best done alone if you don’t want a divorce. Eventually they are secured but I know I will spend most of the holiday worrying they will get stolen despite using enough chains and locks so Houdini couldn’t escape.
By now, it is past 10 and my mood is not sunny 🌞 but we are ready to go. We have enough food to last a famine and Mels clothes are so plentiful we could open a charity shop – maybe that’s her plan! First stop is the garage for diesel, a journey of at least 250metres. Still I am not happy (by now the reader will come to understand that I’m a grumpy old cow!) as I should have filled up yesterday and why is diesel so expensive and why has that idiot in the boy racer car decided to park so close etc. etc. etc. Poor Mel, she knows she’s in for a long journey. This is then made worse by realising the radio is not working. We’d had satellite installed and so maybe the wires had been disconnected. This serves us right for being so poncy. Why couldn’t we have managed with just butt plug for our signal (I will write the story of butt plug at a later date I promise, it’s not as weird as it sounds).
A four hour journey takes six hours as it appears that many British drivers have a fondness for driving into each other regardless of the hassle caused to the poor sods behind them. Mel and I play the ‘yellow car’ game and argue on whether a car is gold or yellow or shitty Sandy colour. We wave manically at other motorhome drivers, even though they can’t possibly see us across six lanes of a motorway and make up stories about other drivers or scream at them for driving like idiots. We discuss if it is a kite or a buzzard soaring above us and we have various conversations about all the stuff we must have forgotten to bring ‘just in case’.
We realise we are in Lincolnshire when Mel keeps asking me if I’ve farted. I haven’t and we realise the smell is coming from fields upon fields of cabbages. They are all around us along with fields of lettuces and broad beans and sweetcorn and sunflowers. And the land is so flat! There are no hills at the bottom of the county and you can see for miles and miles. For once my arse can’t be blamed for the smell!
As we get closer to the coast the fields of cabbages thankfully recede and are instead replaced by thousands and thousands of static holiday homes. We have never seen so many. Thousands is not an exaggeration, they are everywhere. And they are so close to each without any privacy but they must be needed or they wouldn’t be there we assume.
We play the ‘I saw the sea’ game and I win of course and demand my brownie point and then we get to Maplethorpe. The finish line is in site and we are both very relieved as we are exhausted. We are in desperate need of a wee and a cup of tea – in that order.
As predicted, we turn into a field and for a split second it looks like heaven to me. But then the stress of Mel directing me as I reverse Ethel to the water tap starts. It doesn’t matter how long we have been going away in a van together, we don’t seem to be able to sensibly communicate our instructions when in reverse gear. Mel stands where I can’t see her so I stress I’m going to run over her and she gets stressed because she thinks I am ignoring her and reversing in the wrong direction. We have considered semaphore as a method of communication but I’m not sure that is the answer. Eventually we have filled up with water, plugged in the electric, switched over the fridge from battery to EHU and Mel has checked out the toilets and compared to previous sites.
Finally, we sit down, breathe and enjoy a wonderful cup of tea. We’ve arrived and are looking forward to a fantastic week ahead.
2LadiesTravelling 