Apart from the odd journey to keep the engine ticking over and stopping the battery going flat, Victor (my VW campervan) has been placed into hibernation for the winter.
When I say hibernation I, of course, do not mean I’ve driven him into a huge box containing water, lettuce and shredded newspaper like Blue Peter presenter John Noakes undertook when the show’s tortoise Fred hibernated in the 1970’s… Although, I haven’t ruled that out if I can find a cardboard box large enough and train my motorhome to eat lettuce.
Not that Noakes and fellow presenters drove Fred into his wintertime lair… He might have been the same shape as a Volkswagen Beetle but the pedestrian shelled fella clearly wasn’t one of the iconic motor vehicles.
No Victor’s hibernation basically means he will be out of action from a camping perspective. As a result, most of his accessories have been brought into my apartment for a few months.
Consequently, currently residing in my apartment’s spare room are a mini fridge, porta potty, pots, pans, cutlery, bedding, linen, and a piano keyboard… Actually, the piano keyboard is present in that room all year round, not one of Victors accessories. Strike the latter from the record please clerk.
Luckily the room is spacious, meaning this new influx of campervan adornments don’t clutter the chamber. As a result, it can still comfortably be utilised as an office space and spare bedroom.
I am office in situ while penning this narrative. With deciduous trees newly bereft of leaves, my vantage point affords window views of solar rays kissing roofs of passing cars. Leaf fall allowing greater access to people watching. Me shamelessly scanning passers-by while they stroll the well-trodden boulevard on the other side of my apartment block fencing.
This bright autumnal day raising spirits, evoking words of thanks to meteorological gods for sparing us the horrible rainstorms of this time last week. That being said, my spirits may not remain buoyant for too long; after all, I have a shift to work in under an hour.
I don’t mind my part-time job and today’s is only a five-hour stint, but clearly I would rather be writing prose than filling supermarket chiller shelves.
Most of the camping accessories will not return into action until Victor emerges from his metaphorical hibernation box around March, lettuce hanging limply from his radiator grill and shredded newspaper wrapped around his exhaust pipe.
I have joked to acquaintances that I may utilise the porta potty as a spare dining room seat at Christmas. This unorthodox pew having the added advantage of meaning I would not even have to expend the effort of leaving the table to ‘go potty’ after consumingmy huge festive dinner.
That, of course, is quite clearly a jape. A deliberately absurd suggestion on my part to impart levity amongst my audience. I mean the idea itself, not the act of ‘going potty’ at the dining table, which would be anything but a humorous act for assembled guests to stomach… Unlike my food… Hopefully!
With the office/bedroom containing a camping stove, portable toilet, TV, Bluetooth speaker, bed, pots, pans, and cutlery, if I add a door lock and tinned food, I have got a pretty decent Panic Room at my disposal… Always handy when you live in Wakefield!!
