Last year, while spending three months in Australia I had a holiday (not that most of the last three years hasn't been !) Matthew and I travelled to Christchurch in New Zealand and hired a Camper-Van to tour the South Island. I mention this because for the next couple of months in OZ and when I returned to the UK, I looked at every single motorhome I saw on the road with the envy of a green eyed monster. I had to have one. I wanted to live in one, the carefree life on the road where it's the journey rather than the destination that matters.
I am known for my impulsive behaviour, not least in the arena of buying things. They do say that the good sales people are all like that. I bought my first house without seeing it, I bought a brand new SUV after taking my current one in for a service ( and actually paid for the service too). I bought a £3k 3D smart TV, despite the fact that I only really watch Channel 4 news. It didn't surprise me that, one rainy day in August, at a loss for something to do. I drove over to Nottingham to 'look' at a camper-van and arrived back home some two hours later owning one. It must have been the easiest sell the salesman had made - ever ! I was desperate for him to ask for the deal, he didn't, not, that is until I asked him to. He did, and I said yes. The rest is history. A week later I drove a nice 4 year old Fiat Ducatto from Nottingham to Chesterfield. Was this going to be the best or the worst decision I had ever made?
After a first trip out to a local camp site, a couple of trips to Scotland, here I am sitting on the bed of my cabin of the "Bretagne" , bound, with a one way ticket to Roscoff in Britanny, Northern France.
I've never driven on the continent before. To be honest that is a concern, a big concern. I paid £4.99 for a sticker that adheres to the van windscreen to remind me which side of the road I need to be on and which way I need to go round a roundabout. I hope the French are ready for this!
The journey down to Plymouth was uneventful. If you can call the worst winds I have experienced "uneventful". The van was full of clothes to cover every eventuality. I was also carrying more food than the local Asda. I'm pretty sure they have shops in France and Spain, but you can't be too careful. I think the weight was the only thing that stopped me being blown over.
Arriving at the ferry terminal in plenty of time, I was able to set my new super, dooper, mini-cooper fuck off GPS (with free lifetime European maps no less!) to TV mode and watch channel 4 news whilst waiting to board. Who needs a fucking 3D smart telly anyway!
The boat was pretty empty. I had treated myself to a cabin. To be fair, it only cost £ 39 as opposed to £5 for a reclining seat (which usually don't actually reline that much). My rationale for the cabin was I had a quite stressful day ahead of me and I needed rest. The disadvantage of course is you don't get to meet new people, more of a disadvantage when I saw half the French army get on the boat. You win some - you lose some I guess.
In reality, the boat was pretty much empty. So much so that most of the bars and restaurants were closed. One boarding I settled myself in the cabin and watched "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here' on the GPS. No TV and a basic bunk bed. The cabin was £39 for a reason!!!
I was fully expecting, given the weather on the way down, a rather choppy crossing. As I settled down to sleep mentally checking I'd got and done everything, I had an awful thought. I'd only gone and forgotten my fucking mountain bike. I hope the shops are open when I get to the continent!
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Location:Plymouth - Devon - United Kingdom
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