“I don’t wish to bore you with my life story…”
These were the words of Mad Sue, the very proactive ‘surgeon assistant’ who almost entangled us in an eBay escrow scam to cheat us of our savings with a dodgy campervan sale, and ruin our plans to quit our jobs and travel Europe.
And just as we didn’t give a rats about Mad Sue’s (apparently) upcoming divorce settlement, we know you either a) already know us, or b) also don’t give a rats about our life story.
Rob & Dale - Honfleur, France - October 2016
To sprinkle you with a little context, I’m Dale. It was me who convinced Rob that moving out of our lovely 2 Bed, 2 Bath (rented!) flat in London in order to abandon our incredibly stable and rather fulfilling jobs to live in a van for 12 months would be the right move. I don’t have a licence. But I did just pass my theory test. And then found out that I can’t go on the van insurance for three years anyway.
Then there’s Rob: multi-award winning radio and digital programming producer. He can’t remember how he ended up in this relationship, but as his hands cramp on the steering wheel after five hours of non-stop driving across two countries, he too realises this is simply the way things were meant to be.
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“Drive on the right!” That’s my job. Chief Navigator and now certified expert in EU traffic theory. As I stare out the window of our 'Nordic Green' Mercedes Vito van conversion, I notice that although it is the off-season here in France, there is an unending convoy of caravans, motorhomes and campervans still ‘touring’ (new word). Everyone is retired. And by retired, I mean old.
“Rob…have we perhaps taken this trip 40 years sooner than we were supposed to?”
He assures me that the littering of grey in his stubble and the three grey strands in my left eyebrow qualify us for this journey. As does our new National Trust membership (which came with free binoculars!).
Hard times.
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Life is rough on the road. We’re still working on our rhythm and finding a routine. I said to Rob on our first night that we need to find a routine else we could quite easily drink ourselves into oblivion each night. We sit here writing this having already demolished a carton of 1664.
Let the travels unravel.
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