It’s been around twelve months now since I commence partaking in the campervan life. Since popping my camping cherry, witnessing the equipment and accessories available to us individuals embracing life in the great outdoors has truly amazed me.
Saying that, though, I am yet to find a photocopying machine or paper shredder specifically designed for motorhomes. Leading me to conclude there are still strides to be made when it comes to manufacturing camping supplies.
During my campervan adventures this week, I spent time chatting to someone about mobile home life. This fella revealing that, among a raft of ostentatious caravan features at his disposal, on an evening he has a luxury of laying on the sofa watching Sky TV.
Footnote – Well, I am assuming when he said watching Sky on an evening, he meant they had access to Sky TV… Not he had a bloody big hole in the mobile home’s roof, allowing wonderful views of the night sky.
What other episodes have played out in GJ Strachan’s orbit this week?… Erm, now let me think.
Oh, well, I suppose you may (or maybe not) be interested to learn upon arriving back at my camper on Wednesday afternoon, I was somewhat dismayed to see the previous weekends gales had partly torn my motorhome canopy. Damage I temporarily repaired with cable ties, love, and a pinch of pixie dust (ok then, just cable ties) early Thursday morning; after the prevailing rainstorm abated.
Also on Wednesday, yours truly bought a TV for the campervan. This BUSH 24” telly taking some tuning, even with an amplified indoor aerial. Eventually, after several aerial relocations, I managed to get a decent picture… Well, I did if laying flat at the opposite end of the vehicle to the device. That the only position I could find which afforded me an unpixellated view of the broadcast.
Consequently, Wednesday evening was spent watching old BBC comedies laid flat of the van’s bed. Terrified, if I rose above a height of a limbo dancer (mid jig), I’d miss out on Eric Sykes or Reggie Perrin’s whimsical antics from the 1970’s.
This horizontal pose even maintained whilst consuming dinner. Circumstances seeing me laying down flat eating a pizza; me showing all the grace of an anaconda devouring prey post-constriction. This foolish dining posture leading to crippling overnight indigestion.
Upon waking from my indigestion ridden ‘sleep’ on Thursday morning I’d a day at Scarborough North Marine Road cricket ground to look forward to.
Taxiing six miles, or so, to the Yorkshire v Lancashire game with my ‘son-in-law’ Simon where we were meeting eleven other friends close to the ground.
This hallowed ground that of Scarborough Cricket Club. A venue where, in 1971, ex-Yorkshire batsman Jack Hampshire became the first Tyke to score a half century whilst undergoing an outer body experience.
Here our plans were to spend a few hours imbibing pints of loud-mouth soup whilst accompanied by the cathartic sound of leather on willow.
Sadly, heavy overnight rain in the area meant we couldn’t fulfil the latter of those aims. Disappointed, we cheered ourselves up by putting lots of effort into the other element of our itinerary.
Through a mixture of five pints of Coors beer and raucous belching (which may well have registered on the Richter Scale), I was finally bereft of indigestion by late afternoon.
At that juncture, through a mixture of five pints of Coors beer and bloody stupidity, I decided to order myself a portion of fish and chips… Cueing the swift return of my indigestion… Flaming idiot!!
Having had my fill of beer, I returned by taxi to the campsite on my tod in the early evening. Simon stayed in town with the other lads to help his identical twin brother Nathan try find his personality, which he had apparently lost after his fifth pint… Only joshing Nath! 😉
Not long later, having found Nathan’s personality under a bushel, Simon returned to the site with his partner Katelan, his daughter Gracie, and two of their friends, who had also been in Scarborough for the day.
Triggered by Katelan’s decision to start boring us with Love Island anecdotes, and the tedious tale of how cheese graters got their name, Simon and I started drinking again shortly after their return.
I await your intervention with baited breath!
Leave a Reply