My Mum and The Caravan - Part Two!

My Mum and The Caravan! Part Two

‘Miraculous’ because it offered SALVATION! My SALVATION! That is no exaggeration because Mum had gone from not being in possession of enough money for a party to being so rich that she had bought a Caravan! Apparently it was awaiting collection at Dagenham Dock. Mum was right, God pays debts without money. Now who was it who would shortly be the envy of the entire neighbourhood? I would have girls begging to be my friend but I would have to be very discerning. As a caravan owner it might be that I would only consider girls with names like Penelope or Alicia or Darrell. I might even consider a Felicity or a Celia but no Pam’s, Pat’s or Barbara’s. Sorry, but there you have it, Caravan owners have to be very particular about the sort of people they mix with. One can so easily be brought down by the company one keeps and we in the Caravan owning fraternity have to be constantly on our guard less we allow the wrong sort to get close to us.

So, in one fail swoop, whatever that means, I would soon be elevated from the sewer of life where I was something that needed to be scraped off one’s shoe to such a lofty position that I would have people clamouring, yes clamouring, to be my friend. The more I thought about this the more I realized I would need to be very careful about whom to choose so I decided that prospective friends would need to undergo an interview procedure and only those who could pass a rigorous selection process would be admitted to my inner circle of friends.

Anyway, I soon found there was a national shortage of Penelope’s, Darrell’s and Alicia’s and although Felicity’s and Celia’s were available, sadly, none were located in Dagenham so I generously allowed the Pam’s, Pat’s and Barbara’s back into my life. Well, they showed suitable remorse and I am not vindictive so we soon fell back into an easy relationship and so it was that they were to accompany me on my first visit to view ‘The Caravan.’ Why oh why do I set myself up for these situations? Why did I not go alone?

First off, I should explain that Dagenham Dock would not be the first choice Tourist Information Centres’ might suggest to prospective holidaymakers as a holiday destination, being situated as it was right slap bang next to Fords car factory. It had no beach to speak of and very little in the way of night life. There were no shops, pavement café’s or fancy restaurants. I believe, though, that the Council were trying to attract tourists to the area as, at great expense, they had installed a burger van near the main entrance to Fords which, I must admit, greatly improved the area.

But it was of no matter that the Caravan was sited there as Mum had told me that she was in possession of a letter informing her that the Caravan was awaiting collection. That implied movement. So, it was obvious, to me at any rate, that Mum intended for it to be moved to some holiday site such as I had seen at Southend but that did not stop my so called friends from being quite scathing once they found out where the Caravan was located. But, at this point, I could quite easily shrug off their sarcastic remarks as soon they would have to recant their cruel words once they saw what now belonged to my family.

We reached Dagenham Dock, a place where we often played as there was a field nearby which had a ditch we could swing over by means of a rope attached to a tree. Oh yes, it was easy to see why Dagenham Dock was playground to the rich and famous! I presumed this field was where the Caravan would be at rest awaiting collection by its new, proud owners, my family. On reaching the field I cast about anxiously looking for our lovely new shiny Caravan. Nothing! No…nothing! But then joy of joys I could see why it was that we could not locate it because obviously being so valuable it was wearing some sort of camouflage. Then, as we drew nearer, I could see that the camouflage was not some kind of netting draped over our lovely Caravan as it was painted on. Worse still, this thing bore not the slightest resemblance to a lovely new shiny Caravan. It was a big, strange looking, square thing that had wheels but surely this could not be what Mum had bought as a Caravan. Stood in a police line up of caravans it would soon have felt a hand touch its shoulder as being an impostor as it was like a policeman being dressed in a striped jumper wearing a mask and carrying a swag bag!

NO! NO! NO! It was definitely an impostor! It was masquerading as a Caravan. It must be and that was the reason for why it was wearing camouflage. And, moreover, although my experience of caravans at that time was limited I had never seen a Caravan with such a stout ladder leading up to the roof. It was just at this moment that, like St Paul on the road to Damascus, it hit me like a bolt of lightening! Yes, I had found religion, or rather; it had found me as it was all I could do not to fall on my knees as inwardly I pleaded with God.

Please, please, please God, don’t let this be ‘The Caravan.’ I promise I will say my prayers every night, I will go to Confession three times a week, even three times a day if you will make it so that this thing is not ‘The Caravan!’ I will do Penance for my sins and for the sins of everyone else, I will not get up off my knees for a fortnight if you, in your infinite goodness, will be so merciful as to make this grey monstrosity not be ‘The Caravan’ of which my Mother spoke.

Alas, God cocked a deaf ‘un and I was left standing in the middle of a field contemplating suicide, that is, unless a grey monstrosity masquerading as a caravan could induce a God fearing thirteen year old to have a heart attack, while my friends very nearly had seizures they were laughing so much. Anyway, they knew I had the keys to my, so called, holiday accommodation and they wanted to see inside. Something I also wanted but wished it could be a tour I took alone. So I plucked up the courage to open the door and listened with mounting embarrassment to gales of laughter from my so called friends.

Oh, Mum, how could you expose me, your youngest, most favouritest child, to this ultimate humiliation? To describe the interior of this monstrosity will not take me long because it had so very little to recommend it and so I will make attempt. First, it had a lino covered floor, a fixed metal table and six metal chairs bolted to the floor at one end. At the other end there were two steps which separated the unscreened bedroom area where there were six metal bunk beds with no mattresses but this area did have the luxury of a metal cupboard. However, it was obvious to me that from very early on the whole of the interior had decided it was not going to waste its efforts on providing comfort of any description to anyone unlucky enough to have to live in it.

As I looked, I wondered what it had been in a previous life till one of my friends said “I bet this was a military Caravan…probably used during the war!” My only question was…which one? The sparseness of the interior seemed to add weight to her suggestion. And, as it later turned out, she wasn’t far wrong in that it was an RAF Caravan which had obviously done sterling service as I felt sure those were strafe marks from enemy bullets on the bodywork. Although, my considered opinion was that this could have been the work of friendly fire, unfortunately though, not friendly enough, as I would have seen it as a sign of genuine friendship if someone had lobbed a grenade in to the interior and if that didn’t demolish the whole cotton caboodle it would still, at the very least, have improved the look of the inside accommodation.

Anyway, for this reason, I found myself cowering in a corner trying desperately to become invisible but then I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, girded my loins, stiffened my resolve and broke it to them.

“Well, I am afraid that you will all have to take your turn in coming away with us as although there are six beds, there are four of us already in my family so I will only be able to take two of you at any one time.”

This announcement did not have the response expected as, at the very least, I expected some gratitude but no, what I got was more imbecilic laughter. I realised I needed to get these so called friends out of there as quickly as possible as it was obvious some of them were in need of urgent medical attention.

Well, their behaviour provided me with the perfect solution to the problem of which of my friends to take on our first holiday. The answer to that was none of them. They just weren’t ready to move up the social ladder and join myself and the rest of the Caravan owning fraternity in taking the waters in some wonderful, exciting, exotic seaside location such as Southend! Not for them the Kiss Me Quick hats, the Rock with Southend running through it, the Candy Floss and Hot Dogs and as for a Rossi’s Ice Cream Cornet that would be completely outside the realms of their experience. Come to think of it…outside my realms too!

They just wouldn’t know how to behave in such a situation and I marvelled how it was that I had not noticed how gauche these people were. Gauche, another word to keep as a pet as it didn’t seem to eat much in the way of imagination and so I thought it best to keep it handy. No, when my family and I sallied forth to holiday somewhere exotic in our new acquisition it would be something of a relief to leave these so called friends to their own devices in Dagenham but I entertained the idea that I would awaken their envy by sending them a postcard from our eventual holiday destination.

Alas, the Caravan never left the Dagenham Dock field of battle as Mum couldn’t afford the cost of a lorry, which was the size of vehicle needed to move this ex RAF monstrosity that had been miss-sold to my dear mother. It has just occurred to me however, how come Mum came to be in possession of an ex RAF Caravan in the first place? Had she taken to frequenting Army Surplus Auctions in the dead of night or had she signed up or taken it upon herself to defend Dagenham Dock should it ever find itself under attack?
In any event, the Caravan’ was showing a decided reluctance to leave the field because everyone who came to view it in order to give a quote for its removal made some implausible excuse or submitted a ridiculously high quote.

Could it be that these lily livered individuals were put off by the gun emplacement still on the roof or, was it…the magazine of ammunition still clearly visible?

End