Flapjacks, National Trust Car Parks and Alan Turner

I'm writing 2 in one day today, so I can catch up. I may need to have a lie down after all this writing.

You may remember that in my last post, I said that we shouldn't do London- Cornwall in one go, whilst in Joni the camper van.

Neither should we do Cornwall- London.

So we didn't. We decided to stop off with some very lovely friends near Bristol. Sensible, see?

Now, I really can't explain why, but wherever Tom and I go, we have 'adventures'. I've put that in quotations because we often have to rebrand ridiculous situations, most of which involve getting lost, breaking down, turning up at the wrong place, driving around aimlessly at night, getting trapped in places, or just generally being awful at getting things right.

If you say it's an adventure, it's easier to

a) get out of and
b) not get cross

On Wednesday, we appeared to be in the position of NOT having an adventure. In short, it was all going very well. We left the campsite in plenty of time, managed to get the marquee, sorry, awning, down, Joni was running beautifully (due to a few hours spent with a very clever, if slightly frightening, mechanic) and the sun was shining. This NEVER happens, certainly not all in one go.

It was this optimism that prompted us to stop off at a National Trust property for a cup of tea and the cakes that we had bought that morning (Tom had some sort of epic fruit shortbread, I opted for a Rocky Road because I am naturally more continental)

Our stop off point of choice was the Lydford Gorge waterfall car park near Okehampton. As I said, the sun was shining, we were feeling perky and excited about hanging out in Joni with the door open, making other visitors feel smug that we have our own stove and therefore do not need to pay £8 for 2 cups of tea and a dry scone.

I have no idea what prompted the next collection of actions, but we both decided to get out of the campervan, shut our doors and head to the welcome hut.

Now, I say 'shut' our doors, what I actually mean is 'lock.'

Before I carry on, I will point out that Tom has locked himself out of his own car FOUR TIMES in the last six months. I'm just dropping that in. The RAC already think that he is a wally.

An opinion that they have now confirmed.

In short, what began as a slightly smugly optimistic 'ha ha we have loads of time to spare' stop off turned into TWO HOURS spent sitting on the floor of a National Trust car park without coats. The welcome hut closed, the tea room shut, the sun went down.

We were having another 'adventure.'

It was 90 minutes in that a lone car arrived in the car park. An older man in innappropriately short shorts hopped out of his car and, without really even saying hello, launched into an enthusiastic speech about how his son also has a Volkswagen.

It wasn't clear until 20 minutes later who this man actually was. Tom and I stood almost silently, as this man performed what can only be described as a monologue on how he used to own a farm, how pigs are just like humans as 'if they don't like their neighbour, they WILL kill them', how everyone in Tavistock knows his son, and how he 'likes a good fight.'

It then transpired that Alan (that was his name, Alan, Alan Turner, 'Dan's dad)' had come to clean the toilets.

At some point, while Alan was pausing for breath, we managed to point out that we were locked out of our vehicle, and we weren't just enjoying an afternoon in a deserted car park.

This is when Alan really came into his own.

The next half hour was spent breaking into Joni using the handle of a bucket from the back of Alan's car. When we got the door open I have never

a) seen Tom more proud of himself

b)seen an old man in shorts happier

c)called the RAC with a more triumphant HA HA WE DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE WE BROKE IN OURSELVES USING THE HANDLE OF A BUCKET.

Needless to say, we were then cold, late for dinner and still totally bewildered by Alan Turner.

But we were having another of our very special 'adventures.'

I'm now not going to on how the camper van did actually break down once we were 10 minutes away from the car park, how I had to drink water directly from the kettle as we'd left our water bottle behind, or how I had to rescue my phone charger from out of the sink.

I am going to focus on the wonder that is...Alan Turner.

Thanks Alan.

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