Training Wheels

So we commence our inaugural trip, this is the test trip, the trip after you hastily go to the caravan and camping show and go “ wow, a bathroom, a washing machine and 2 TVs complete with satellite”.  Who knew camping could be so luxurious. Off you go to the checkout. You are officially campers, grey nomads, although the only grey I relate to is a fantastic pair of grey sling back pumps I have in the never ending shoe cupboard.

The husband, recently retired, mid fifties, me, still working because that whole relinquishing your independence thing is a process I have yet to commit to.

We start, off we go to pick the cubby house on wheels up from a friends ( we are currently laying the slab to rest our new travelling abode on). The husband has been rushing me out the door since we woke up, I tell him to stress less, practice relaxing, this is a technique he is yet to learn upon exiting for our 4 day sojourn.

We pack her up, stack the groceries, store things away, secure the wine which has been purchased for the moments when killing each other is on the cards or when the amazing sunsets we hope to see can only be complimented by wine or the perfect bottle of bubbles.

We are ready, here we go….the husband…  “this camera for the back of the caravan won’t work. Get me a knife..I can fix it” he says. Trying to straighten the delicate prongs that connect into the other half of the prong thingy with a knife and no glasses because when I asked had he packed his glasses prior to leaving he stated he was to busy to worry about trivial things like that…. “I can’t see” (ha I wonder why). I offer to hold the phone light and suggest a pair of tweezers may be better…the husband…  “we can’t go if I can’t see behind the van”. Fine I say I will unpack in that controlled kind of way that irritates him no end. “No just hold the light” several repeated attempts and we are still blind from the back and contemplating a weekend spent under my friends carport. The husband states that we will need an auto electrician…seriously. We seek to find one along the way. We are off.

One minute down the road I realise we have not taken the inaurgural selfie. I sulkily mention this, he calmly offers to stop to take the photo. No I say…continuing to be angry that the perfect start deteriorated into making us late. Late when he was pushing me out the door and I’m telling him to chill. Late because we were meeting the travelling West Australians in Forster…our first trip destination.

We are off, a sneaky pair of heels packed in the cupboards of the travelling cubby house because a girl can only rough it to a point.