Life in a caravan, or three weeks of my life, and that can seem like a lifetime, is perfectly encapsulated by the object on the right. In case you hadn’t recognised it, it’s a shower head. You’ll have to look hard at the photo for the bit in question. This shower head may be ‘specially-designed’ to put you off having a shower in the caravan, some kind of water-saving concept but, I suspect, the truth is, it’s just very badly designed. As Mrs Summerhouse put it, perfect for the three-handed alien.
You perhaps wouldn’t think so to look at it and neither did I until I tried to use it but then I am not a three-handed alien, at least I don’t think so. Even this is not strictly accurate. What I’m trying to say is that when soapy hands come into play, as of course they do when a human person is having a shower, the thing is not fit for purpose. Because it is a) stiff and b) short and c) has no setting other than off or Niagara (think of the kind of water-hose the police use to disperse rioting crowds), it is impossible to turn it on and direct it at one’s nether regions which of course is largely the point of a shower, trying to operate it with soapy and therefore slippy hands, just doesn’t work. Your digit slips off the little lever thing which is a) painful and b) it stops. Or, without the soap effect, it works but in the wrong places / direction with the added bonus of going from hot to stone cold and back again in a second. Keeps one on one’s toes I’ll say that. You can’t really move in any other direction other than up and down because the shower cubicle is small. But then this is a caravan so fair enough.
You probably think I’m being unnecessarily negative about the camping experience, perhaps I am, but somehow this little item sums it up. Everything is an effort or more of an effort than it is at home. Yes I know, stay at home then. But from lack of space, to far distant toilet blocks, this one is in the next town (yes I know again I should park up near the block but that would mean being near other people which would mean an audience for my reversing – I may have found a solution to this challenge but I’ll leave that for another fun-packed blog), to fetch the water in a barrel (impossible to lift when full and hard to roll along with its handle thing when full or empty), before you can do the washing up (having just been out in the rain and filled the barrel I could write an entire blog about this ‘simple’ chore but that would be negative), empty the grey water and don’t even ask about the chemical toilet. Nowhere to dry wet clothes, of which there have been a few. There is a drying room on this campsite but it’s full of wet clothes. But this is not a blog to complain about the weather or wet clothes. Phew that was a whinge and I’m not done yet.
Making the bed has a whole different meaning to that which I usually understand and you’re hearing this from the man who normally makes the bed. You literally have to make it up by pulling out a shelf thing, taking the sofas apart, fold sheets, remove or add duvet and pillows – every morning and night, make the bed, take the bed apart, make the bed, take it apart, you get the idea. We’re not just talking bedclothes here, no siree, Bob.
Oh, and the water pump, when switched on, sounds like a helicopter taking off and makes the dogs jump (have you heard of RAF Lossiemouth? Well we’ve brought it with us). Feels like we’re filming Witness 2, chop the wood, make the barn, cook the vittals (is that right?), wear gingham (but only if you’re a woman). I admit these last four I made up but the ambience is the same, frontier life as we don’t know it. Just as well I didn’t decide to go for the really big celebration of our seventieths by going wild camping but then we’d have been in a hotel by now if we had.
OK so far quite challenging. We’re basically city people and it shows. But let’s try looking on the bright side, not my true nature I know but one can always try. The Scottish scenery is stunning (when you can see it, sorry that morphed into a negative, and if we can find a wifi spot that works or you don’t have to pay for a la Caravan Club, (sorry that also was a negative), as I’m hoping you can see from photos below. If there are no photos below you’ll know we didn’t find a wifi connection.
On Wednesday we left the caravan behind and experienced the joys of the open road towards, but never reaching, Applecross on the West coast (we spent our first three nights on the East coast). Even without caravan this was more ‘no track’ than ‘single track’ and hence hard work. In other places the roads were kind of ‘open’ when they weren’t single track roads with passing places. But the scenery was magnificent when it wasn’t raining. And God, or whoever, did it rain. I have never been kept awake by rain, as I was on Wednesday night, but then I’ve never slept in a caravan before. Sorry that sounded a wee bit negative I was trying for the positive was I not?
Gosh I’m loving all these new challenges, just as it should be now we’re 70 or, in the case of Mrs Summerhouse, nearly 70. Doesn’t quite work does it? More later in the week, definitely be some positives then, I can feel it in my bones although that may be the arthritis. Mrs SH’s phone has rain every day soo…
As usual with my blogs I had no idea when I started what I was going to write and this one is nearly up to a thousand words about our trip so far, granted they’ve been mostly negative words and that’s a little bit of a surprise so, it seems, you will have to wait to the next blog for the positives. Sorry about that.
*Nice little hamlet on the A832 with hotel and bar and restaurant where we ate on Wednesday night, this camp site, shop, café although they wouldn’t let us bring the dogs in fair enough I suppose, petrol station (always welcome to the traveller). To end on a positive, a pleasant little spot on the way to the West coast and our retirement challenge / celebration of the Northwest 500.
Sorry no photos, not sure why maybe next time.