January 7, 2012
OMG, where has
the time gone, and how suddenly has it come to this? In four weeks’ time we
will be off. I have given in my notice. It is official.
Somehow I think
for my husband it has been more real all along than for me. But I’ve been quite
happily preoccupied with day-to-day life, especially in the run-up to
Christmas. And now I can’t pretend it’s just an idea any longer, even if I
wanted to ….
I have even
driven the thing – albeit only for 50 yards and a 3-point turn on the access road
to Booker’s cash-and-carry on the way back from the local weighbridge. And only
after dark, when there was nobody about and the road was lit up on either side
with little lights on sticks like an airport runway.
But still, nobody
to see me tootling along in second gear, far too far over where the white line
in the middle would have been, if it had been a real road.
I was advised
against attempting the mile-long trip home. Maybe when it’s daylight, said my
husband kindly.
Preparations are
now in full swing. While my husband has been crafting a shelf to fit over the
side of the drop-down bed to hold my morning tea (how sweet of him is that?) I
have been scaring myself silly by reading online advice on how to motorhome
safely through Europe without getting a) mugged in any number of major cities b) broken into at a motorway
service station or c) flagged down on a Spanish roadside, and possibly even
gassed (I am not joking) by Moroccan marauders pretending there’s something
wrong with our tyres, all the better to rob us.
If I believed it
all – which I kind of do – I’d never dare leave home. But of course there are
all sorts of tips about alarm systems, extra door and window locks, money belts
… and of course we’ll be following them up. Though I’ve ruled out the
130-decibel interior alarm, on the grounds that if the poor dog’s on his own in
there when it goes off, he’ll be so traumatised by the noise that he’ll refuse
to get back inside ever again.
We’ve bought a
safe, and the practical half of our relationship has been bent double half the
evening trying to bolt it into place in the cupboard space under one of the
beds, amid much grumbling and a trip back to the retailer to exchange the
original purchase for a smaller version.
He’s also been
very happily shopping all week, both online and at our local Lakeland
A certain amount
of muttering has been created by a fruitless search for melamine plates with
rubber rings round the bottom to stop them slipping, like the ones he’s got for
his boat, which seem to have gone out of production.
Once you start
thinking about kitting out a motorhome it’s amazing what’s involved. Even if,
like me, you tend to assume somebody else will sort it out.
I did think about
bedding – and can’t even decide whether we should buy new or make do with some
of the spare room stuff from home. I favour polycotton because I can’t see
myself ironing, while my husband insists he won’t be able to sleep under
anything but cotton in the heat of southern Spain
And then there’s
the question of how to secure the house while we’re away. Precautions I’d
previously considered and filed away under ‘To do – some day’ suddenly seem
highly important. Should we invest in a burglar alarm? Possibly just a dummy
one? New bolts for the back door, certainly.
Then there’s the
insurance to sort out. As long as we’re away for no longer than 60 days the
house and contents are covered by our existing policy.
But there’s
insurance for the motorhome, including European breakdown cover. And EHIC cards
won’t cut it if anything serious goes wrong with either of us, so we need a
travel policy. And the dog needs one, too, so that’s another £28.
And the bills
keep mounting at the same time as we’ve decided to forego salaries.
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