Picture the scene …

It is a very dark night, the moon and stars invisible behind thick clouds. The wind is combatively tugging and shoving and the falling leaves are dancing as if in the Strictly dance off, desperate for a place at the Tower Ballroom in Blackpool. Outside the car the lashing rain stings coldly on unprotected skin. I’m driving K back from Castle Cary station where The Smart One has been dispatched on an already delayed by 44 minutes train to visit his father for the weekend (by the time he got there he was 80 minutes late because of speed restrictions, poor lad).

I’m driving at around 40mph as the roads are covered in huge puddles and what part of the road is free of puddles is covered in mushed autumn leaves, all waiting for the unwary to stamp on the brakes. My headlights are dipped as there is a luckily smallish  oncoming vehicle, when on the left out of the darkness at the almost too-late last minute, I spot a large stray hedge/small tree trying to cross the road, I move as far right as I dare to try and avoid it but … BANG!

Storm Deirdre has resurrected the Curse of the  Broken Wingmirror, 4 in 4 years. As the Curse obviously plans to become an annual event, should I pre-order a wing mirror for 2019 and perhaps some canapés and some fizz for the Wingmirror Wake?

Luckily no other damage to either the car or the occupants.

Y’all drive safe now …

🙂 🙂 🙂

The Arrogant Macho Peacock.

So, Señor Boss (Pandemonium on the A7)was an arrogant, macho peacock who was deluded about the extent of my nous. He’d got the head shaking, shrugging and teeth sucking down to a fine art and a great deal of it went on as he examined the remains of the defunct tyre and the opposite rear tyre. I think he thought he was on to a winner when I immediately agreed to replace both tyres (What idiot would replace only one tyre?) but I was way in front of him, having already swallowed hard, acknowledging I had to replace both. Then there was the introduction of tutting as he mentioned how difficult it was going to be to get 2 new tyres – and tomorrow’s Saturday. (A lot of hand signing and French, with the junior Señor, was being used by now). He must’ve been disappointed in my lack of interest in the day of the week. If he hadn’t been so determined to siesta and had just taken me to the nearby, but not in sight, tyre centre I could’ve been on my way in only an hour or so. As it was his “garage” was only a lock up – not a wheel balancing machine in sight!

I had to play it somewhat carefully as I was in a very vulnerable position; I couldn’t go anywhere without his co-operation.

When he arrived the next morning to put on the tyre, he started again with the head shaking, shrugging and teeth sucking, adding in a low whistle for good measure. He pointed out that the wheel border had a couple of tiny (and bash-outable dents) and started to talk about a new wheel … out came my phone, and google translate informed him that he could put the tyre on as a temporary measure. Suddenly the dents were not a problem. He capitulated and stomped off taking wheel and one new tyre, bunged them in the boot of his car, and shot off. Back within 15 minutes of departure, he put the wheel, minus any dents, back on. He then put the other new tyre in the hab. area and decided he was driving R0X1 to the tyre centre where the other tyre was changed, I was allowed to accompany him and consequently learnt of the proximity of the tyre centre!

When we got back to his lock up further head shaking, shrugging and teeth sucking occurred when he found out I didn’t carry loads of €s in my purse and that the transaction would be via my debit card. He glared, obviously annoyed the Spanish taxman would get to know about this particular bit of business. By this time my simmering anger was about to head into steam … I couldn’t take much more of his arrogance.

Then my card wouldn’t work, he tried again and again reducing the amount each time obviously concluding that I didn’t have the funds. He looked at me almost triumphant, thinking he’d be adding R0X1 to the collection of many vehicles stored in his lock-up I imagine. I rang my bank and they helpfully informed me that the arrogant macho peacock was trying to put it through on contactless payment and the bill being rather more than €30, the machine was having none of it. For the first time I had the upper hand and I couldn’t resist a smile as I informed him that the card needed to go in the slot and payment rapidly ensued.

You’d be wrong if you thought this was the end of my tyre saga …

Last night having spent a few more fun days in P&M’s company we were due to part company in the morning. I decided to empty my grey water into a bucket as the campsite didn’t have a drain point. I bent down to turn on the tap only to find nothing there. Further investigation showed that the back end of the waste pipe had been destroyed by low flying tyre – I’m not worried about that at the moment as I can put a bucket underneath the new “end” of the pipe. What does worry me is the two slow leaks of water slowly dripping underneath as well. I shall be in Perpignan tomorrow at an Adria dealer to find out where the leaks are coming from. I’m going to France as;  A) I speak more of the language; and B) given my recent dealings (or not in some cases) with Spanish garages (or rather lock-ups in one case) I don’t trust the Spanish – shame really.

I’ll leave you with pictures from Altomira as a reward if you’ve got this far into this overly long blog!

🙂 🙂 🙂

Pandemonium on the A7

I realise I have not yet reported in full the visit of Paul and Meriam, however I beg the indulgence of my regular reader to bring you breaking/braking news. I will return to the Dutch folk at a later date.

If the written word gets a bit slurred it’s because I’m gulping an XXXL G&T – it has been a  l o n g day.

It started well enough with the Terrible Trio leaving Jávea and heading for the hills, as we are wont. With a quick diesel fill and Lidl top up on vino blanco, I headed off. South of Valencia I joined the A7 motorway and was bowling along quite nicely. I was way behind P&M as I’d made a coffee and dog convenience stop. Suddenly there was a very loud bang and R0X1 started wandering about the carriageways without my permission. I braked firmly but gently, hit the hazard lights and carefully checking mirrors etc. brought my wagon safely to rest on the hard shoulder. I donned my hi-viz vest and as I deployed my red triangle noted that an awful lot of the rear left tyre was on the carriageway rather than on the wheel. I phoned the RAC. Unfortunately I seem to have overstayed my welcome as far as my breakdown insurance goes – I should have left a couple of months ago – I shall have to foot the recovery bill myself.

Two lovely motorcycle cops came, one retrieved the remains of the tyre from the carriageway – brave lass. The other set about organising a recovery vehicle. The van with the flashing arrow lights – “move over” – parked behind and the driver distributed loads of traffic cones along lane 1 (of 4). Completely unsurprisingly, the cops still had to direct cars into the outer lanes as quite a few drivers thought the instructions didn’t apply to them. They were both very sweet and kind especially when I watched R0X being winched up onto the recovery truck and got a bit upset, reaction I guess, but LWD seemed to enjoy the view from its cab. I was just terrified that R0X would somehow escape her bonds and fall off.

By the time we arrived at the garage in the middle of an industrial estate it was siesta and Señor directed me to a nearby cafe and ordered me to return at 5pm. One menu del dia and a lot of thumb twiddling later, I got back to the garage at the arranged time. 40 minutes later, the temperature had dropped alarmingly, it was trying to rain and I couldn’t get into R0X as she was still up on the reccy truck. I really was starting to panic, I had no idea where I was, let alone the recovery Señor and there was no one around to ask. I was beginning to wonder if I was being set up for a robbery or worse (I really must stop reading so many murder procedurals) and one or two tears could not be held back. My phone had run out of battery earlier whilst I was keeping P&M updated. So I was mightily relieved when another Señor turned up, shortly followed by the Recovery Señor (hereinafter called the Boss). They had been trying to track down 2 tyres (I decided not to trust the one remaining  el-cheapo tyre). No Michelin camper tyres in Valencia. I might be here for the weekend.

Señor Boss asked me via the other Señor (he and I were communicating in French) if I’d like him to take me to a hotel or would I like to stay on the forecourt. I went for the cheaper option. They got a step ladder so I could shelter in R0X bless them.

It was interesting, to say the least, to be sitting in R0X whilst she was backed into the forecourt and then jerkily winched down. LWD, not renowned for her bravery, shivered and whimpered, to be honest as I was already shivering from cold I almost joined in to make it a shiver/whimper duet.

Safely ensconced for the night on the forecourt, I was pouring my XXXL G&T when there was a knock at the door. Señor Boss beckoned me outside to show me two shiny new Vanco Camper tyres and told me he’d put them on tomorrow.

There’s now not a lot of G&T left in my glass and I’m feeling considerably calmer.  LWD has forgotten all about it and is blotto under the table …

🙂 🙂 🙂

An official nursing expression

It’s a twisty windy narrow road, a lot potholier than it was 2 years ago, up to El Berro, a mountain village 600metres (1,969 feet) up in the Sierra Espuna, a beautiful natural park beloved by mountain bikers, hikers, Daisy and me.

 

 

 

There’s a warning in the ACSI (camping) guide for approaching the El Berro site, it reads; C3315 take 2nd exit El Berro (1st exit unsuitable). Don’t go through the village. Assistance available. Call in advance!

The route around the outside edge of the village is now well signed and keeps large vehicles from become stuck in the extremely narrow twisting lanes in the village centre, and is only seriously narrow at one point. I arrived onsite without any problems; no oncoming traffic at the critical point!

Three days after my arrival the upgrading of the local  water supply moved from the village centre to the outer lanes and by the time of my planned departure involved the vital route out with an abundance of deep trenches crossing the road at 90° (without ramps or covers) and severe width restrictions, plus barriers preventing anything larger than Noddy’s parp-parp car entering the affected lane. There weren’t many pitches occupied by the end of the week – no-one could get in – well one stubborn Irishman could and I decided if he could get in I could get out ………. I would go through the village centre!

My life was not made any easier by cars parked on narrow right angled bends (2), oncoming traffic, and finally the blocked by a delivery van, one and only straight lane, which meant I’d have to do another right angled bend and then attempt the tight chicane … R0X1 came through it all, if you’ll excuse the official nursing expression, like sh*t out of an enema’d bum!

We are safely ensconced at a site in Jávea on the coast.

🙂 🙂 🙂

P.S. Thanks for the assist Jim.

Think pink and positive (for K and N)

Two and a half years ago when I was in El Berro, as my regular reader may recollect, I got into conversation with the owner of the small village store. The conversation was in French as she didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Spanish. She told me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had started chemotherapy. Her hair was thinning, she was feeling horrible and was quite tearful. We hugged as I left the shop and I wished her all the best and have thought of her many times since.

A few days ago K was  very shocked and upset. She told me that one of her friends has just been diagnosed with breast cancer. N is due to start treatment tomorrow.

This morning needing one or two groceries I nervously went back to the shop hoping for the best, dreading the worst. Thankfully, there was Madame, behind the counter, looking very well with lustrous long black hair! Her treatment was successful and all is currently well with her recovery. We hugged again – several times.

There is always hope … think pink …

Cactus in bloom outside restaurant in El Berro. Only 24 hours between buds and flower images.

🙂 🙂 🙂

The (W)hole story

There’s been another incident. I was reversing up onto the levellers (and to be fair it’s not easy when you’re short, in a big van and can’t lean out of the window to see how far on you are without altering the steering) and overshot a tad. The momentum of the overshoot and subsequent bounce whilst still being in reverse gear, lead to the inevitable… the Hole is in exactly the same place, left hand rear corner, and  the previous fibreglass repair is shattered. Thank heavens for gaffer tape. The wall was not injured during the making of this Hole!

Being totally unable to afford the £2,000 the repairer charged the insurance company last time I had a Hole there and also unable to afford further additional insurance premiums should I claim, I decided to get repair estimates whilst still in Spain. Tyres, servicing and hab. checks here are much cheaper than in the UK so I started hunting around whilst waiting in Torrox for the family to arrive. Nobody in the Málaga area seemed to want my money. One on-line enquiry led to a phone call from a ‘we fight your claim’ firm, another enquiry led to a reply 2 weeks later (after I’d left the area) and another firm never got back to arrange a time for the promised meet for an inspection of the damage.

Disheartened, I decided to head north. A couple of hours later and I was in plasticland, where crops are grown under every imaginable size of plastic cover, and in the midst of all this shiny plasticness I found a lovely site, large pitches, excellent showers, friendly staff, low occupancy (most of the over-winterers had left), bar and cafe only 50 metres from the beach and 500 metres from a small town. I de-stressed for five days in warm sunshine and had an idea …

Balerma

I’ve visited Caravannas Lorca virtually every time I’ve been over to Spain and found them very friendly, knowledgeable, resourceful and reasonably priced. The Hole has been inspected, and it’s entirely as expected, a new part is needed. They will get back to me with a price and a date after they’ve spoken to Adria.

After a night spent at a site near Aguilas that I shall never visit again, I popped into Rosemary and John’s for a coffee and catch up. Coffee, catch up, G&T, hair-cut, lunch, wine, siesta, natter, snack and overnight stop later and with a plan to return for shopping with Rosemary when the Hole is needed at the repairers for mending, I headed slightly north to wait.

I’m now at one of my favourite sites at El Berro awaiting delivery of the Part. Daisy and I will explore some more of the Sierra Espuna national park and with a bit of luck Paul and Meriam may join us here, if not we’ll see them in France as soon as the Hole is sorted …

El Berro and the Sierra Espuna

🙂 🙂 🙂

Water restrictions 2

Derelict factory in Torrox – note the electrical wiring!

Slight inebriation may have played it’s part, but when I returned to R0X1 after a very convivial evening with The Danes, I had a eureka moment. My paternal grandfather, an engineer and inventor of a patented pump, must have been turning in his Lewisham grave that I’d taken so long to think of it. I decided I’d check in the morning …

First thing(ish) the next morning found the water tank once again exposed and me tentatively unscrewing the top of something about which I knew nothing. A few minutes later and I’d found my submersible pump. Remembering something BB had said the previous day about the water level I added 20 litres of H2O. The tank had been reading a quarter full when I started my hairwash, but I noticed that with R0X1 on a slight lean to the right and the pump in the left hand corner the water level might have become too low as BB had suggested. Now the pump was definitely covered.

I replaced the disconnected wire and turned the circuit breaker off …

Big fat nothing … not a sound … de nada …

I was once again scratching my poor head and wondering where the nearest Moho centre is to get the pump replaced (and panicking because K and the Smart One are due to arrive) when The Dane knocked on the door. Somewhere in the course of the previous evening’s bacchanalian feasting I remember pre-retirement careers being discussed. The Dane it transpired had been a lecturer in electrical engineering. He was at the door with electrical testing equipment … pump tested OK, connector block tested OK. After a search for the fuse box, fuse examined … not OK. I carry spares … fuse was changed, breath was held, tap was turned on and …

… water flowed.

That afternoon whilst The Dane rested, The Dane’s equally Danish wife and I went to a local bar and enjoyed live music and drank shandy to celebrate!

🙂 🙂 🙂