Mud, axles and AA men…

Following a longer than average drive from Bristol through floods and rapids to Stoke on Trent we spent a night in a filthy caravan next and got next to no sleep, the trip hadn’t started well, when we found ourselves getting dragged onto a field by a tractor to set up tipis for a festival we knew it didn’t bode well…  Still – we trooped onward, pushing pegs into the sodden ‘jelly bowl’ ground, which had the added sensory pleasure of being recently covered in 3ft of silage. A night in the van, a trip on a steam train where the hairless dog puked in front of revolted onlookers, another dragging off of a field, loading up and another night in what can only be described as the most soulless campsite I’ve ever been too in my life we found ourselves packed and ready to head home…with a trailer axle deep in mud, an hour of waiting to be dragged back out of the very field we had been dragged into 48 hours earlier a field we should be well on our way home… ‘Phew’ I here you say, ‘no, no, no’ I say, ‘because this is us, not normal people…!’

What instead happens is the strong smell of burning rubber heads us off the motorway to Burnham on Sea, where we investigate and notice that having being dragged through several mudslides we’ve broken the axle on the trailer, wheel sitting at a frightening angle and wood and rubber all but worn through…So off we head to a garage who helpfully remind us that because this isn’t a ‘proper’ trailer but actually something thrown together by a person after too many nights on the scrumpy and not anywhere near enough baler-twine they can’t simply ‘fix it’ and, instead we can choose between a few nights on the road waiting for ‘whatever the part is’ or ‘the local drunk to sober up enough to be trusted with a welding torch’ instead we call upon our close associates the AA… Who hate us with the increasing amount of call ups for wheezing this and oily that but, still, after a sigh and some finger tapping agree to get the trailer on a pick up and bring it back to Cornwall…. providing one of us stays with it the entire time, and with the added delightful news that they won’t do a full run but will go to Exeter and then around 5-ish will take it the rest of the way over the course of the next 48 hours… A bit of begging from me and they’ve agreed they are indeed capable of picking it up themselves without me being there to encourage them and mop their brow… Andy, Tom and dog all trudge off in the van to take the other tents down near Bristol while I bore the AA man to death for an hour as he takes me and trailer to Exeter services.  Just to make this more ‘us’ Andy has no battery so has no clue where I am or what is happening… So I sit here, telling you all about it, while drinking a coffee and watching the rain come down…no point getting stressed, ‘the key to happiness is to remove all attachment’ my Buddhist meditation teacher tell me…  One way or another we will all get home, when or how is anyone’s guess… In the meantime I will sit here trying to telepathically will Andy to come and find me at this table in Costa, if you all have the time to help with such willing I shall forever be in your debt…. And so the weekend ends, nearly….. ‘but what will you do now?! Aren’t you worried?’ says the AA man as I slide (and nearly break my leg from the unforeseen drop) from the lorry cab… ‘nope’ I say, ‘this sort of thing happens all the time, we are quite used to it really’ he gave an agreeable nod as I closed the door and stood in the pissing rain waving him off with our lopsided trailer beside me… A Tipical Day indeed…See you on the other side…

One thought on “Mud, axles and AA men…

  1. You sound so much like me it’s frightening………..well your willingness to accept adventure where others may see adversity – have another coffee and ponder – that’s what gifts of time are for. Great blog : )

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