They know how to spring a good Jape here in Spain.
It started at 0500 this morning when the mobile rang. It was Georgia phoning from Australia to say she’d been offered a job in an Opticians’ in Adelaide for a month, should she taken it.
This is the kind of conversation her Mother loves to have with her but George seemed reluctant to speak to her Mother about it, so we chewed the fat in a ‘Dad/Daughter sort of way for a while, then she decided as it was lunchtime in Melbourne,bus he’d go to the Beach and think about it.
Which left Jaki and I wrestling with the ‘What if conundrum’ which no amount of tea could fix, until some time after 0700 (I’ll explain later) we managed to get some sleep.
Trouble is, they’re too old to tell what to do but too young to make the right decisions.
When we woke up some time later (I’m getting to it, don’t rush me) we had to pack up and move off to pastures new. It doesn’t take us long, we have a routine now but we have made a few mistakes. Driving off with the washing line still tied between the van and a tree wasn’t as bad as the couple in Woolacombe who left the site with their terrier still tied to the back of their Caravan. He did have a good run.
Other errors include, leaving the roof vents open, not switching the fridge over so everything defrosted, leaving the 12 volt switched on, the pump switched on and worst, leaving the step extended which adds about 10 invisible inches to the width of the van. All behind us now.
“Captain to Navigator, confirm flaps are down, check, fridge off, check, electric unplugged, check, windows secured, check.” You get the drill?
We just needed to empty the grey waste and the chemical toilet and we could be on the road.
When we got the the RV point though a dozen pair of Danes ( I’m giving the Germans a break here) were filling their on board water tank up with a watering can, rather than move their van forward a foot so the hose (remember the short hose I described earlier) would reach. In the end Jaki went and stood next to them and gave them one of those stare’, you know the one. ‘You better be gone in five minutes mate’ and it worked. They were off like a shot, never to be seen again. Well not for another 15 minutes.
Ok, so the time thing needs explaining.
When we got here I changed my watch to Spanish time by putting it forward one hour. Then, after all the fuss with the Ferry time table yesterday Jaki checked on the internet by Googling, what time is it now in Spain and behold, it was one hour later than my watch. So I put my watch forward one more hour. However, when I checked the international clock on the I pad it told me the time in Spain was one hour behind the time Jaki had given me. So,Newhart time was it really? I checked by tweeting one of the chums in the UK who very kindly tweeted back that it was in fact 0925, but I didn’t get that tweet for 3 hours so we still don’t know what time it is.
Now why is this so important?
Because it’s pay for your Glastonbury tickets day and they opened at 0900 but when I logged on the site was closed. Was this because it was before 0900 in the UK or was there a more serious issue.
As it turned out I ended up with a flea in my ear for booking the wrong camper van park. Apparently we alway go in East, but this year I had (oh horror) suggested we might try West. Can you imagine some thing so ‘anarchic’. Change your camp site indeed. You’d think I’d suggested voting Tory. Then to cap it all I’d actually gone and booked the wrong one.
“I knew you’d do that, that’s typical of you” was the general theme of the conversation from Mrs Peter bloody Perfect.
So now I’ve got to spend countless hour trying to contact see tickets.com who don’t ever provide any contact details or face to face customer service, whilst ‘Groucho bloody Marks goes round ‘Tutting.’
When we left the site, we hadn’t gone 50 metres before the road was blocked as there was a market. So we had to circumnavigate through the narrow streets. In front was a Campervan which seemed to be facing the same challenge as us, so I decided to let him do all the hard work and I’d just follow him.
He eventually took us down a dead end and we had to reverse out of a morrow street into on coming traffic with cars and pedestrians flying in all directions.
Yep, we’d chosen to follow the Dozy Dane from this morning.
If it didn’t make a good story, I’d cry.