👋 Victor’s Retirement Party
Victor the Vito, our humble little camper, is hanging up his airbed. He’s been cleaned, seat-restored, and returned to civilian life as Paula’s pride and joy. He served us well—even if his idea of luxury was a kettle balanced on a gas ring and a midnight dash to the bushes.
🎉 Enter Wilko: The Crafter of Dreams
Meet Wilko. Our all-singing, all-dancing, 7-metre VW Crafter. He’s got:
- A king-size bed (no more midnight pump wrestling)
- A shower and toilet (farewell Tupperware pee pots)
- Enough electronics to make NASA nervous
He sat there gleaming like a promise of freedom. We picked him up Friday night and by Saturday, we were packing for a five-day break. Paula sorted the cupboards. I tackled the electrics. Wi-Fi? Check. Water tank? Holds 200 litres. Filled? Eventually.
🔧 Campervan Mysteries: Volume One
- Flicked a switch. Light came on three cupboards away.
- Opened a panel. Found a submarine control board.
- Followed a drainpipe for 20 minutes. Wrong pipe.
- Water pump sounded like a grumpy walrus with bronchitis.
🍜 Chinese, Gin & Taskmaster
We ordered Chinese (my pre-race ritual), popped into the pub next door for a pint and a gin, then walked our feast back to Wilko. Taskmaster on the telly, gin in hand, Chinese in lap. Bliss.
The bed? Oh, the bed. We melted into it like tired marshmallows. Best sleep in months. I even dreamed of knowing which button boiled the kettle.
☀️ Race Day: Totnes 10K (ish)
Morning tea, Chinese leftovers in the microwave (yes, microwave), and Bude Rats tops on. Bibs collected. Safety pins secured.
The organisers called it the Totnes 10K. My watch called it nearly 11K. I call it: “Who put all these hills here?”
- Narrow tracks = squirrel flexibility required
- Hills = designed by a sadistic geographer
- Back pain = uninvited guest
- Painkillers = placebo pills
Walking helped. Runners asked if I was okay. (“Yes, I just enjoy a scenic stroll mid-race!”) Steps, wet grass, woodland trails—it was scenic. I think.
💑 Paula, the Finish Line Angel
And then, like a vision from the mist, there was Paula. Fresh as a daisy, smiling like a saint, waiting to run the last stretch hand-in-hand. She could’ve flown ahead. She didn’t. Romantic? Yes. Competitive? Not even slightly.
One dodgy back. One patient Paula. One extra kilometre nobody asked for. Two hands clasped in victory. First medal to enter Wilko.
🚿 Shower Fail & Brixham Bound
Back to Wilko. Time for a hot shower. Except… 200 litres takes longer than a hosepipe splash. No water. First task: failed.
We headed to Brixham via lanes so tight Wilko had to inhale. Paula, navigator supreme, found us a spot by the sea. I bet she’ll swim later.
🐟 Fish, Friends & Unexpected Sole
Met Simon and Tracey for a catch-up. Expected Wetherspoons. Got a fish restaurant. Lemon sole in batter? Bold. Not great. Tracey brought the wedding album—lovely pics. We walked off the meal with a pint and a sunset.
🦭 Paula & The Seal
Back at the beach, Paula went for a swim. Too cold for me. She swam with the local celebrity seal. I swear they were one dog paddle away from synchronised swimming.
Me? I stayed ashore, chief sea glass inspector. While others risked frostbite and befriended wildlife, I conducted archaeological digs in the shingle. Someone’s got to maintain standards.
🌅 Sunset, Seagulls & G&Ts
Parked close enough to hear the waves and seagulls plotting chip-based crimes. The sun set in a blaze of gold and pink. It felt like a glossy travel brochure. Time to toast a cracking camper day with a G&T.
Tomorrow: water refill. Next stop: adventure.