Motorhome crazyness Diary

The big day of viewing Wendy arrives

🏰 Odiham Castle: Where I Got Stuck, Walked the Wrong Way, and Accidentally Had Lunch Picture this: a sunny day, a curious Labrador named Blu, and me—armed with enthusiasm and absolutely no sense of spatial awareness—deciding to visit Odiham Castle. A simple outing, right? Wrong. So very wrong. I pointed Wendy (my 20-year-old motorhome and occasional diva) down a lane so narrow it looked like it had been designed for medieval wheelbarrows, not motorhomes. But did I turn back? Of course not. I committed. Badly. I squeezed Wendy down the lane, hedges brushing both sides like nature itself was judging me. Eventually, I found a “parking spot,” which is a generous term for the ridiculous angle I ended up at. Wendy was wedged in so tightly I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever get her out again. So I did the only sensible thing: I made lunch. Because when you’re stuck, you eat. It’s the law. After my stress sandwich, Blu and I set off for the castle. It’s just a walk down the canal, they said. It’s beautiful, they said. What they didn’t say was which side of the canal. Naturally, I chose the wrong one and marched confidently in the opposite direction for a good 15 minutes before realising the castle was on the other side. Blu thought it was hilarious. I did not. Eventually, we reached Odiham Castle—a stunning ruin with more history than I expected. Turns out King John was here in 1215 before heading off to sign the Magna Carta. I stood there thinking, “Wow… I had no idea.” Blu found a stick and declared it more interesting than constitutional history. And yes, I did eventually get Wendy out of her stupid parking spot. It involved reversing, praying, and one very confused squirrel, but I did it.

🌅 My First Night in Wendy: Magpies, Mayhem & Baked Beans at Hookpit Farm My first ever night away in Wendy the motorhome was meant to be peaceful, relaxing, and gently life‑affirming. Instead, it was… well… very me. I booked one night at Hookpit Farm online (because commitment is scary), packed Blu the Labrador, and set off like a woman who absolutely knew what she was doing. Spoiler: I did not. When we arrived, I discovered the site had five pitches, all with something called EHU. I had no idea what that meant. I assumed it was a fancy motorhome term like “Extremely Helpful Unicorns.” Turns out it’s just electric hook‑up. Who knew. All the pitches were hardstanding, which I thought meant “emotionally tough,” but apparently it just means gravel. Still, I parked Wendy proudly, pretending I was a seasoned motorhome pro while Blu sniffed everything like a four‑legged customs officer. The view was incredible — miles of countryside stretching out like a postcard someone forgot to Photoshop. And the sunset? Absolutely stunning. I felt like I was in a romantic film, except the romance was between me and a 20‑year‑old motorhome. Then the electricity went off. Everything. Dead. Dark. Silent. I checked the fuse box. I checked the sockets. I checked Blu (just in case he’d unplugged something with his tail). Nothing. Then I spotted them: two magpies perched on my EHU cable, looking like they were discussing their next crime. One hopped. The other flapped. And the cable popped right out. I’d been sabotaged by birds. I reattached the cable like a true professional (meaning I shoved it back in and hoped for the best), and the lights came back on. The magpies flew off, probably to ruin someone else’s evening. Dinner was a glamorous affair: baked beans on toast. Blu stared at me like I’d betrayed him by not sharing. Breakfast the next morning was croissants with strawberry jam, which made me feel like a sophisticated traveller instead of a woman who’d been bullied by wildlife. Despite the chaos, it was perfect. My first night in Wendy: ✨ A beautiful view ✨ A peaceful farm ✨ A confused dog ✨ And two delinquent magpies who nearly ended my electric dreams Honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.