Mothership and mishaps

This time last week, I was penning my last blog from chez Knollys. Now I’m back at L’Horte after a wild 800 mile adventure in the Mothership with 9 woofers, my best friend Irene and a 4ft tall peace lily. You couldn’t have made it up. Thankfully the Mothership got us here safe and sound even if she occurred a few ‘minor’ injuries in the process and the woofers are now happily investigating the smells of home.

Our epic journey started Monday morning when the amazing Natalie and her partner Ian arrived in two cars in which to stuff canines and the remaining household bits needed for France. And a large peace lily. How we got everything in Lord knows but off we went down to their place in Surrey filled to the brim with dog hair and mostly unnecessary items. As Nat put it, they do have water bottles in France. Still we got to the first resting place on our trip and the woofers were happily off-loaded into the palatial gardens to be greeted by the resident pack. Arry immediately took advantage of the hose being used to fill a dog pool and managed to soak anything, human or otherwise, within a 5 ft radius. Country living has its perks.

Having settled the dogs and Irene, Ian and I then whizzed off down the M25 to retrieve the Mothership from the motorhome dealership. I have to admit, she looked amazing and I did have a little flutter of anxiety about driving her, I’d forgotten how big her rear end was but Ian reassured me. “Take turnings wide and don’t worry about how slow you’re going, everyone gets stuck behind a motorhome”. Sage advice. I negotiated tiny country lanes, two motorways and Natalie’s driveway without any mishaps only to remove the mud guard off the right hand side as I parked it. A little too close to a hitching post. Thankfully it was only cosmetic and did give the Mothership a certain ‘I’ve done many travels’ look about her. Thank you Ian and Andy for managing to disengage the beast from the post especially as you had to remove said post.

Still, after a wonderful evening with friends and a relatively peaceful night, Irene and I carefully left Surrey and headed for the Eurotunnel. On a blazing hot day, I manoeuvred a motorhome on to the train and off we went. Now, as many who travel this way will know that you are asked to place your vehicle in Neutral (or Park) and open your sunroof. This I dutifully did, or at least I thought I did. Travelling under the channel is pretty level going but as you enter Calais, it begins to angle downward slightly. At this point I should mention that as we were the first to be loaded on to the carriage, we were at the front. Approaching the terminal, the Mothership suddenly started to move forward into the huge doors preventing our exit. With an inch to spare, I slammed my foot on the brake and prevented disaster. No-one noticed we mused as the doors opened, this may have been true if I hadn’t run over the wheel stop they had placed at the front. “Could I reverse slightly?” the perplexed attendant asked . Note that cars are squished into these metal containers with only a couple of millimetres between bumpers but incredibly none were hurt in the process and wheel stop removed, we headed off on the long road home.

Now I bought this massive Mothership so the dogs could be transported in comfort to their new home. A four berth, loads of seat and floor space so they could spread out whilst we ate up the miles. I might as well have bought a Mini as they all decided to get as close as possible to being in the footwells including Arry. The only one to partake of her luxurious surroundings was Simi who loved the wide window seats even when the seat slipped off during precarious roundabout driving. Irene’s co-driving seemed to entail shoving the seat back every time we got back on a straight road. Simi wasn’t perturbed. And after a relatively quiet night in a lorry park just outside Chartres, we hit the final stretch of the expedition in good spirits. It was also at this stage that we discovered on making morning coffee that we had lied to the transport police at Folkestone, the gas canister was on. Anyhow, caffeine’d up, we hit the road home easily covering the hundreds of miles towards Carcassonne. By this stage I was beginning to feel ‘at one’ with the Mothership and rather enjoying the power of a monster vehicle (you can see into lorry cabs you know) so it was a little annoying that I missed the familiar turning off the autoroute to Carcassonne East. Actually more than a little annoyed because I really didn’t want to drive into the centre of town in a big white bus. Temper flaring and several missed turns later, I got back en route thanks to the ever patient Irene and Google and headed off towards home. At the final toll booth, my foot slipped on the brake and the Mothership careered straight into the gate. Luckily the toll tag on the car beeped just as we hit it and the bent gate rose unsteadily to let us through. I wasn’t stopping to check for damage and floored it for the remainder of the short trip to L’Horte.

I made it. I’ve finally come home and so the next chapter in my life starts. A new beginning and hopefully many many more blogs and a book to begin. As they say in France; Bienvenue dans ma vie….

“The journey of life is sweeter when travelled with dogs” (Bridget Willoughby)

By the way, The widow plus woofers now has a YouTube channel on which I have started to put videos!