And so here we are, back in the UK. It’s taken four years to revisit what was once an annual pilgrimage. A lot has happened since. Our 2019 trip to Poland was to be the first of many post retirement. Scotland was slated for 2020 but instead, two years of global pandemic. Melbourne took the sad honour of having the world’s longest lockdown, 262 days over 6 periods, to be precise, with only a daily hour allowed outside. Sanity was saved by a whisker, retirement staring at four walls having little appeal. Consulting allowed me to keep working in a sector I love and restored order to life. Health challenges consumed another two long, hard years. We swapped our beloved Melbourne period home for an ultra modern version in beachside Adelaide. If anyone tells you that selling a house and moving is fun, please call them out for the liar they are, and perhaps check if their pants are on fire. Surrounded by Adelaide family and lifelong friends, life is busier than ever.
And so to this year’s trip. It’s fair to say that tension was high in planning. Himself in a lather of stress over logistics – managing the motorhome from afar presented him with increasing challenge. Tighter UK anti money laundering rules now limit remote and on line acceptance of overseas credit cards, rendering payment of insurance, registration and repairs increasingly difficult, although oddly you can pay in cash or with an international card in person. Sometimes I wonder who signs off on these policies…
Ominous thoughts of what we would find on arrival abound for months. I had horrors of mould, having to throw everything out and start again. Himself paced endlessly over payment logistics, mechanical failure and all the variations thereto. Leaving a new house and garden we’d not yet fully mastered added to an already somber mood. It didn’t help when, two weeks out from travel, we received an email letting us know that on a rainy return from the workshop, a truck had sideswiped the motorhome and taken off the tall side mirror, rendering it illegal to drive. Replacement would take 2 – 4 weeks. Plans were hastily recut to include a hotel stay and hire car in case we were still immobilised on arrival. Himself took to muttering quietly then less so about selling up and moving on. Europe says he, is just too bloody hard. Hmm, not best pleased, says I. We had a firm deal. He could buy an Australian motorhome (which he did) if we kept the one in Europe. Tension pre flight? You could barely move for the thickness of it. Not helped by the airport confiscation of his beloved Vegemite, for some inexplicable reason packed in his hand luggage.
And so onto the plane we trundled with minds and luggage full and, other than “roadworthy”, no firm destination in mind.
And what did we find on arrival? Both less and more than we’d feared. The workshop had thankfully come through with a mirror replacement in time. Some small damage to the side window, but not enough to warrant replacement. Mould had thankfully not taken over but few unexpected items had to be retired – hand weights were growing a science experiment and a wok had rusted out, some odd corrosion of chrome finishes. Evidence of mice, but no damage, thanks to a rigorous end of trip packing routine. A thorough clean, airing and unpacking set my concerns aside. Annoyingly the water filter seal breaks on reconnection and a short term solution has to be sourced. Replacement will be a future problem as it’s a specialist product from the USA.
Himself’s ministrations do not fare as well. First casualty is the water supply – the bathroom tap fitting has burst in storage and any attempt to turn the water pump on leads to flood. A friendly local workshop steps us to the head of queue to install a replacement tap and water pump. A couple of days later, the heater dies. Now this usually would not be a problem, given that we usually travel in summer, but it’s spring, raining and absolutely freezing at night. It’s also the source of the hot water supply. Back to the workshop for two days, for a very difficult to install new heater fan.
Later, we tackle the underfloor storage only to find an internal pool – when the heater failed it automatically drained any water in the system. It should have drained straight outside but as luck would have it, the hose pointed back into the storage area and a pool it is. Much gnashing of teeth and subsequent clean up – a nice pair of boots and our dehumidifiers are casualties. I take the opportunity to lift the carpets and store them under floor while Himself decides what we really need, having bled money thus far, is a new TV. Back to the workshop where 3, count them, 3 men determine what size we can upgrade to in the space available. A courier is hurriedly arranged for the following day, and in it goes. Except that it doesn’t fit, or more to the point it fits, but won’t swing out of its storage bay, or it can be adjusted to swing, but the door then can’t shut. My patience is thin. Take the door off says I, we’ll sort it later.
To add to the drama, the satellite won’t connect, although in fairness, the satellite failed at the end of our last trip, possibly a casualty of rearranged UK satellite signals. Ironically we’d booked to fix it at the start of this trip but had to cancel due to lack of a side mirror. Best laid plans.
I can live without the satellite, I reason. It’s a smart TV and I have Europe wide unlimited internet that Himself sourced. Except that I don’t. The following day, having updated the operating system and streamed a few things, my internet is throttled and non existent. My unlimited data pack has a daily 2GB limit it seems, a pertinent point, inconveniently left off any of the advertising and terms of use. No problem, I can get around that with a VPN which I promptly buy and set up. Except that the TV isn’t VPN compatible without a router. Oh and the small point that I’m slowly losing the will to live….. fortunately we have endless DVDs and media to hand.
There are moments of beauty and joy in amongst the repairs and drama of course. The workshop helping us on our way is a newly found gem in a beautiful farm setting. It’s here our first squirrel appears along with bumbles, chickens, sheep, goats and llama. Devon is lushly green thanks to 6 months of rain and is in full spring flower.
Nearby, Bude offers sweeping sea views and a local market. Endless drives to and from the workshop flush out a gloriously plumed pheasant. I master the hedgerow duck and weave in the hire car before it’s due for return. Himself takes us out for a country lunch on a rare day of rest. Best of all, we receive news that we have a brand new grand niece, little Yasmin, safely brought into this world. We ‘meet’ her on line, on a Bude cliff top – she’s gorgeous with full cheeks and dark hair. Welcome to the world little one.
Eventually though, the cold wet weather takes its toll. Having finally got to the end of repairs, Himself books us on the ferry to France.
11 days in, we’re off at last.
PS: And yes, I know these are first world problems but they’re frustrating none the less.
Miss Baci Travels 