Cosy Musings From A Caravan.
My netbook is out of batteries so this is being written in green biro on a scratty A4 pad I found in a cupboard.
We are in Settle in Horace’s gran’s caravan, we’re just here for a couple of days holiday over the Easter period.
The rain is hammering on the roof in waves and the wind occasionally wobbles the caravan very slightly, but it’s so snug in here, I’d rather be here than anywhere else in the world right now. It’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist out there.
I love being away from home. It’s not that I hate my own four walls, but it’s what they stand for, the worries, the bills, the housework, the crumbs on the carpet. Here all I have to worry about, right now, is how do I raise my snoring other half from the sofa so I can check I’ve switched off the gas fire properly – a skill I’ve never quite mastered.
The time is 11.30ish, the gas fire is blasting out a lovely glowing, bright orange heat, the kids are tucked up in the other room beneath duvets and sleeping bags with hot water bottles and teddies.
I have a glass of wine nestled in my left hand, the remains of a chocolate cheesecake sat on the table, and calm and quiet. If you discount the loudly snoring husband. There’s washing up in the sink, but I don’t have to do it There’s a pile of books beside me I could dip into if I wanted to. Perfection!
We’ve spent so many good times here, I can’t think of anything remotely negative connected with this place. You know when you’re a kid and you build dens made of sticks, old carpet and maybe an old door or something, and it just feels special somehow – like your very own space? Well, this is the grown up version.
I keep remembering the times we’ve spent here in the past. Not wistful exactly, just in amazement. Darlek is 7 now, but I can still remember when we came here and she was just three months old! It was April and it snowed, it was so cold! We were in the new parent paranoia stage and had a baby monitor that registered the temperature in the bedroom where she lay in her moses basket. It dropped to about 8 degrees and I thought poor Darlek would freeze to death. The bed is quite small in there and I remember picking her up and tucking her in with me, my arm carefully encircling her so she wouldn’t fall out of bed and so that I wouldn’t lie on her. I was so unbelievably uncomfortable I don’t think I slept a wink that night, but at least I knew she was warm and safe.
THUD! – Sausage just fell out of bed, poor love. I just found him in a heap in the gap between the beds, his little head poking up under a pile of duvet that slid off the bed with him. He’s safely tucked up back in bed now at least.
Funny memories too of coming here when Horace and I were just getting together. We used to come up here as a gang of us, usually ending up rather erm…drunk at some point or other. We were always very considerate to the neighbours though and tried to keep the noise down, but nonetheless stayed up late into the night talking and having a laugh.
It was always of the utmost importance that we kept the caravan in mint condition for obvious reasons. Horace’s gran wouldn’t want a load of yobs wrecking her pride and joy. I suppose now I can admit to the time when my friend over did it a little and threw up on the cream carpet. Most of us were a little too far gone to clean up properly, but thankfully one of us was still with it enough to sit on his hands and knees at about 2am with a bowl, a cloth, some disinfectant and a strong stomach and sort it all out. That wasn’t me by the way, I was probably sat there giggling at the patterns on the sofa at the time. Oh how times have changed!
We’re not here with a horde of us now, it’s all very respectable. Two kids in bed, Horace kaffled on the sofa, quiet apart from the gentle hiss of the gas fire. I miss those times a little I suppose, but if I was still doing that at 36 years old, I think I’d be thoroughly bored of it by now. Besides I like a good night’s sleep and I hate hangovers.
This evening we all sat and watched ‘The Time Machine’, the old classic movie made in about 1960 or something. It’s made me think a little. Would I like to go back to those times, they were fun – the cosy early parenthood days, the mucking about, raucous days. I suppose as a time tourist I would. I’d not be tempted to linger too long though or the rose-tinted spectacles might wear off. The memories of those times are probably more fun than they actually were when I lived through them.
But….if I had a time machine, I’d definitely be tempted to try to freeze time right now, this very minute. While my glass is still half full, while Horace lies sprawled under his fleecy blanket on the sofa, soon to wake; with the kids curled up fast asleep dreaming of school, or the Faraway Tree or Lego Batman….and me sat here with my scrawly handwriting on an A4 pad with a slight cramp from writing so fast.
(Horace’s gran reads this blog occasionally, just to say ‘I’m very sorry about the carpet, we cleaned it up very, very, very, very well promise – please don’t cross me off the Christmas card list. *looks sheepish*) ;O)