He Tried To Be Spontaneous – Our First Kid-Free Weekend.

We discovered that spontaneity apparently requires planning.

Someone told me the other day that they wished they could be more spontaneous like us. Are we spontaneous? No. We are just extremely rubbish at planning. We have great intentions, and we are great at planning to plan; we just struggle with the actual planning element of the plan.

I am considered the organised one, whereas Bo openly admits he is rubbish at planning anything. I do think I take spreadsheet planning to the next level until it comes to doing something for ourselves.

I left Bo to his own devices once; a round of applause to me- do you know how difficult that was? He was going to surprise me with a weekend away, just the two of us, no kids. This was the first time we had ever been away without the kids, and the first time he was organising it. It was going to be amazing; I just had to get in Betsy, put my slippers on and belt on and enjoy. I personally think our Motorhome was destined to be a Betsy; the name really did suit her. 

Bo not only found the site, but he also booked it with no input from me. Now I know you may be thinking, really, why are you making such a big deal about this, but he arranges nothing; he never has. Remember when I said that we are like batteries, the complete opposite. He is more than happy for me to arrange and organise everything, from the bills to holidays to presents; he didn’t even know he paid into a pension until a couple of months ago.

Friday night came, and we were off, clothes packed and put away, food in the fridge and slippers on, all set for the epic weekend adventure. And yes, it was one to remember.

A serene escape on the first kid-free weekend, exploring the open road amid breathtaking mountain landscapes.

The Pineapples Mistaken Identity

En route, we decided we needed a fag break; we pulled over into a layby, got out, lit our cigarettes and leaned against the fence, admiring the beautiful view. While we were standing there puffing on our cigarettes, another car also pulled in. I thought nothing of it; obviously they were having a break from driving also. No one got out; they just sat there staring at us with their lights pointing directly at us, no attempt to dip them. Isn’t that normally common courtesy when parked at the side of the road, blinding those in front? Clearly, these two people didn’t think so. Bo started to get a little anxious, thinking something wasn’t quite right. He was spot-on; next thing you know, they start flashing us. The first time we ignored it, the second time we thought it was weird, the third time,

“Quick, finish your fag, we need to leave. Now.”

I’m like, “What? Why? What’s going on?”

Got caught up in the view, didn’t I. I look around and see the car flashing, then it dawns on us: the layby, Friday night, the flashing lights, two couples.

“Oh my God, they think we’re swingers. Quick, get in.”

We both dive into the motorhome and wheelspin off; well, pull off slightly faster than slow, we are in the van. Once we are at a safe distance, we look at one another, and I burst out laughing. Only us. I know he had planned a kid-free adventure weekend, but really, that’s a bit too much adventure for us.

Bo looks devastated, “I can’t believe we managed to find the dogging layby; I only wanted a cigarette. Instead, we pull in looking like pros. I bet they thought, yes, we have professionals here; they’ve even brought the beds.”

I can’t help myself; the more he rants, the funnier I find the whole situation, especially when I look on the dash and there is a pineapple air freshener; at this, I can’t contain myself. I erupt into uncontrollable laughter, bent over double, tears streaming down my face, laughing so much it hurts. I can’t get my words out, so I point to the dash.

“What? I liked the smell.”

A serene layby with a stunning view of snow-capped mountains across a calm lake, where a pineapple almost made an unexpected appearance.

Signal and Sinkholes: What Not To Do When You Arrive On Site.

 We arrived after dark, having never been here before. We parked in the car park and went in search of reception so we could check in and find out which pitch. Bo went up to reception, gave our name and started looking at me, summoning me over.

“Is everything alright?”

He leaned over towards me, mumbling something that I couldn’t comprehend whilst waving his phone in the air, searching for signal. I’m now staring at him, stranger than normal, as he roams around outside, phone still in the air. I go over to the receptionist to check if everything is ok, only to discover that he forgot to pay. I apologise profusely and go outside to join Bo, waving my phone in the air, trying to also find signal. We had no cash on us and no signal.

We tirelessly searched for signal, a phone in each hand, sitting on Bo’s shoulders as he wandered around the site, trying to get closer to the satellites. After about thirty minutes of what probably looked like a circus act It was a grass pitch that Bo decided was too wet to drive on, especially with us being newbies. As we were on the end pitch near the car park, we could park on the edge, but at least we wouldn’t get stuck.

Everyone was really friendly; one asked us if we needed a longer cable. We were quite far away from the electrical point, and we said we didn’t. Turns out, we did need a longer one, so I went off in search once again.

The manager came over and told us we couldn’t park in the car park as they had a wedding on; we had to move into our pitch. He had accidentally chosen a wedding venue for our first escape (no, we didn’t get engaged). Bo told the manager he was unsure if he should drive the heavy vehicle onto the wet grass. The manager didn’t like this and told him,

“Just do it.”

So he did.

You have never seen tyre ruts like it.

We sank better than the Titanic.

I don’t really know what to do, so I go to the front of the motorhome and push. Bo’s red face is not looking amused. He peers over the steering wheel, raging; the wheels are spinning, his arms are waving like a gorilla claiming its territory, and the only thing that is being achieved is a giant sinkhole. The next thing you know, the whole campsite has joined me, pushing the motorhome out of the ruts with all of the campsite kids gathered round cheering us on.

“You can do it.”

Everyone cheered when we were finally back safely in the car park.

Tents nestled by the lakeside create a serene campsite community, as the morning sun filters through the trees, casting gentle light over the scene.

The Soundproof Bubble Allowing Pandemonium To Reign.

After a theatrical start to our child-free weekend, we were finally all set up and sat down with a beer and a glass of wine, laughing about our crazy antics. As you already know, it was a wet weekend, and a storm had come in, in more ways than one; we felt quite sorry for the tents. After a few glasses, we decided to put some music on. We were having a whale of a time. When we went outside for a cigarette, we made sure to keep the noise down so we didn’t disturb everyone, although by this point we had had a fair amount to drink; I don’t think our quiet shushing each other was actually that quiet.

Now, when we went inside the van, the blinds were closed, the music got turned up, and we were in our soundproof bubble. I blame the blinds; when that door is shut and those blinds are closed, it is extremely homely, giving you a false sense of aloneness. We got extremely drunk, danced down the aisle of the van and sang like no one was near. We had an amazing night, always remembering to keep our noise down outside because of the other campers; inside was a whole new story.

The next morning.

“I swear there were more campers here last night.”

“Probably left because of the rain.”

I can honestly say it never dawned on us that we might have been the reason until a few weeks later. We were standing outside the van, and the kids were inside laughing and messing around; only then did we realise motorhomes aren't actually soundproof. So take note people: keep the noise down both inside and out because it sounds the same. I don’t think there is any soundproofing on the market that can contain that level of drunken noise.