The motorhome diaries: Are we having fun yet?

My recommendation: Don’t leave your job, move out of your house, prepare to permanently relocate to the other side of the world, and set off for three months travelling around Europe in a van all within twenty-four hours. The plan made perfect sense written in a box on a calendar. Real life always has to spoil the party.

Major relocations always provide an opportunity for a possessions cull. ‘I might wear it again one day’ might be sufficient criteria to let something remain in a drawer. Having to haul it through Europe in a van and then on your back through airports across the globe raises the bar somewhat. Unfortunately, the speed of the cull ’09 meant not everything that was jettisoned was a conscious choice. My beloved mp3 player was one item I would prefer to not have left on the curb of Fortune Green Road.

But finally, as the sun begins to set on Saturday the 14/03/09, we depart.

The gravitational-pull of London ensures we don’t escape too quickly. After driving for an hour, I can just about still see our street in the rear-view mirror. We rely completely on the sat-nav for directions, but the route it chooses takes us right through London’s beating heart. Or maybe it’s lower-intestine. King’s Cross Station, Madame Tussaud’s, Victoria, the lights of Canary Wharf in the distance to the west. We should have painted the van red and charged admission.

After finally covering some ground, we pull over in Faversham. Cemetery to our right, football field to our left. Should be quiet enough. Our first-night facilities are limited: We haven’t obtained a gas bottle; no mains power; no water. We’re almost too timid to turn lights on for fear of draining the battery. But pissing on tombstones could be considered offensive by some, so I’m gonna coronate the WC. After filling the bowl, I turn the dial to open the trap-door and let the yellow river flow into the chemical-filled briefcase below. It won’t budge. Solving this problem is probably going to involve going outside and opening the compartment that contains the chemical toilet. But, outside is dark and cold, so the yellow dam can remain until the morning.

If only it had. Mopping my own urine from the floor with paper-towels will not make my life’s highlight reel. Then we dine on tinned tuna for breakfast. Are we having fun yet?