Bear blog

We've just got back from a lovely sunny weekend staring at shiny vans. It was good. Having failed, yet again, to meet up with anyone to convoy with, we trundled down on our own and were going well until we got just outside of Malvern and decided to stop to buy a drink. And then the van wouldn't start again. Bugger. So Pete got on the phone to Roger who told us he could come and sort us out but that he was at least an hour away, especially considering that his brakes had just failed. But then the man from the camper parked up just behind us came over and gave us a go on his battery booster. 'Huzzah!' we cried. But no. It didn't work. So Pete phoned Roger again. I could only hear half the conversation, but it went something along the lines of:

-Roger, it's not the battery. Whaddawe do? Whaddawe do?

-Ah, it'll be your starter motor then. Have you got a toolbox?

-Yes. It's at home.

-Ah. What do you have then?

-One spanner.

-Is it shiny and metal looking?

-Yes, it is.

-Get under the van then, and shove it about a bit between other metal looking things until you hear a fizzy-bang-pop sort of noise. And then you'll know you've fixed it.

 

To his eternal credit, it actually worked. Something to do with sparks and solenoids or something. There was a terrible crackly-bang sort of sound, but Pete emerged unscathed and off we trundled onto site.

 

Vanfest was busy this year, so before we could get into the queue to pay we had to sit in the holding area for about an hour. But it was fine. The sun was out, and people were chillin' n'that. Everyone had opened up their vans and were lazing around the place drinking and playing with barbeques and stuff. So we did a spot of juggling, and before we knew it we were camped up with the Colligan brood. And then a bit later Roger&Connie appeared, having successfully bodged their brakes. We sat around for a bit and had a barbeque and the Baxters turned up and were funny and northern. I may have accidentally, inadvertantly called Joe a cock-rider, but he didn't seem to mind that much. We missed seeing Showaddywaddy through sheer laziness and poor organisation. I may never know what their top-ten hits were now.

 

Saturday was spent buying crap. We had decided beforehand that all we were going to buy was three washers that we've needed forever. But it didn't work out like that. We did a tour of the trade stalls and came back up to the van with one washer, a new interior light, some new door panels for the cab, a shiny new t-shirt for me, and some rags. But the rags we made use of straight away by T-cutting the van to try to get some of the hideous scratches and scuffs out of him. It worked a treat. He's all shiny again now. Very handsome.

 

We spent the rest of the day alternatively lazing around the place and wandering about a bit. I fawned over all the nice dog-dogs, and we saw my doppleganger. She was more stylish, and slightly more emo, and she obviously had a professional haircut and was a bit less doughy around the hips than me, but she had the same mannish charm as I have. The resemblance was uncanny.

 

We all met up again in the evening. The enigmatic Keith turned up (although I never did get to see his fire-engine van) and played about on unicycles. Roger has a very girly pink trials wheel which is too sickly even for me. He's a big fat woman. We gathered for another barbeque and the tat competition. Tat being decidedly slim pickings this year, we failed to find anything that could live up to Miark's exacting standards and thusly were put on the judging panel with Roger and Joe. Wendy won with an exquisite porcelain chaise-lounge photo-frame which scored extra points for a) being bought with a straight face and b) being sold by a man who reportedly said 'yeah, that's lovely, that is'. After the tat, we went and saw The Commitments play, timing our arrival perfectly to hear Mustang Sally. We boogied heartily.

 

But then it was Sunday and after a quick ice cream and a trip round the Show & Shine to see some posh looking vans, we were packed up and back home. The cats were pleased to see us though. And we get to order pizza for tea because we're far too chilled out to think about things like cooking.

Yesterday was our second anniversary. Thank you to the people who sent us cards and well-wishes. We went to Terracotta to celebrate n'that.

 

It was good. Although we were sat right by the toilets, it put me in prime position to watch people get up for their food. Funny looking people I spotted included an enormously fat man who waddled over to the puddings counter, heartily slapped his big fat belly, and then proceeded to pile about six different puddings into his bowl. There was another enormously fat man who looked the image of Phil Jupitus. I wanted Pete to go up and ask for his autograph but he wouldn't. The spoil sport. There was also a regular from the library in there. She comes in every few days to borrow DVDs. I don't think she's got any friends (I certainly didn't see her talking to anyone in the restaurant). She'll be in tonight, taking out four films. I guarentee it.

 

About half way through the meal a big group of girls came in for a birthday celebration. Sigh. They sat right next to us and proceeded to giggle and scream at each other at the tops of their voices. I wouldn't have minded so  much if they'd  been young exuberant things, but they weren't. They were decidedly past their prime. With jowls and everything. Most of them were overweight, all of them were mingers. And they did that stupid double kissing thing all the time.

 

It was alright though, cause we just did surrupticious v-signs at them and tittered to ourselves.

This weekend I have scrubbed, scraped, washed, hung, draped, swept, brushed, hoovered, bagged, binned, varnished, bleached, aired, cleared, weeded, shopped, cooked, tagged, hefted, carted, carried and generally been a harried domestic type.

 

And yet I have achieved nothing.

 

We didn't get any more wallpaper off.

Nor any up.

And the porch still hasn't had its last coat of paint.

 

We went to B&Q yesterday on a mission to pick up a few bits and see about getting a new kitchen door. The door we wanted wasn't in stock, and Pete spilt a tin of varnish all over everything and everyone. The entire shop stopped what they were doing and looked at me as if to say 'why did you let him do that?' (the shop-assistant laughed and told us Pete was number 7 that day). Then we saw that the tiles we wanted to do the kitchen floor with (six months to a year in the future) were ludicrously barginous for one day only and Pete had to fork out stupid money to load 30 boxes of the things into the van and cart them all home where they will now sit and get in the way until we have the money to pay for a man to come and put them under foot.

 

Bah.