Caravan of love...

I can honestly say that Charlie the Wobble Box was christened in style last night.

We collected it yesterday afternoon, and having been subjected to a three hour 'handover' where the ancient, but very wonderful, Roger talked us through every square inch of our new purchase, we tentatively pulled out of the caravan dealer.  'Is there a special wave which caravanners do?' asked the husband as we tiptoed down the road.

Now the husband has a very special 'wave' he has up till now reserved for caravan drivers (especially on that road which leads to North Devon) but I don't think that will be acceptable now.  'You'll have to wait till one comes in the opposite direction - we'll find out then'.  Well believe it or not, we didn't pass a single one on the hour drive home (my memo about avoiding West Berkshire obviously paid off) so we're still in the dark as to a possible Caravanner's Wave.

Reversing into the drive (clever husband) we unhitched, dropped the legs and opened the door.  I had just got the step in position and was clutching a duster and a can of polish (however clean something is, you still have to 'do it yourself' don't you) when my neighbour Mrs B (she of the cafe and fancy waffle maker) popped her head over the fence.

'We're just going to toast the Wobble Box, fancy a.....?'  Mrs B stopped me mid flow with a loud 'Yes!' and was up those steps like a rat up a drainpipe.  Gin and tonics were brought in and there was  formal tour of our new home (all done from the comfort of the sofa).  This was at 6.30pm.

By midnight, we had eight of us huddled around the table in the lounge area and the Wobble Box resembled a doss house, with takeaway pizza boxes sprawled across the worktop, along with two empty bottles of gin, several beers and a couple of depleted wine bottles.  There were also three dogs who had taken up residence in our bedroom, staring down the length of the caravan at us all.  I can almost imagine Percy apologising to Foxy (Mrs B's woofer) for the behaviour of his humans.  

Henceforth, it has been decided that if I so choose, a memo will go out to the neighbours at 4.30pm proclaiming it to be a Charlie Friday.

I think I'm going to like being a caravanner...





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