Now then, after our last little jaunt we'd not planned to venture out again until Easter. Those readers that are desperate enough to follow me on Facebook or Twitter will already know that our caravanning world changed dramatically on 23rd February when we traded in our 2010 S7 Pageant for a new Sprite Charisma 635.
This was quite unplanned, as back in October at the NEC we'd decided on not changing for a few years, mainly due to being insulted by a few wide boys on PX offers. We saw that 3aaa had an offer on their 2018 dealer specials, and having made the fatal mistake of "just going for a look" we fell in love with the 635. The salesman was also quite generous in his offer for our Pageant, and after adjourning to a local restaurant to try and talk ourselves out of it over lunch we returned to melt the plastic.
Now, I know we always carried around far more crap than we needed to, but I emptying the S& was a bit of an eye opener. Bear in mind now that I had a bit of a sort out and filled 2 black bags from the locker prior to our trip to Chester before Xmas. Herself also filled a further 2 black bags on emptying the S7, and I managed to fill another one with "We're not carrying that around any more!" on refilling the Charisma!
Warning ..... extremely nerdy and boring paragraph to follow.
Good job really as the Charisma has a MIRO of 1395kg and an MTPLM of 1620kg. Take out the weight of the mover at 60kg and I'm left with just 165kg to play with (which is 25kg less than I had with the S7). That'll soon be accounted for and I think I may be speaker to the dealer about an MTPLM upgrade!
There was no way that we'd be able to wait nearly 8 weeks to use it, so Herself and I scraped together some leave in work to sneak a cheeky long weekend away in the new toy as a bit of a shakedown trip.
Thursday 7 March
A manic day in work interviewing job candidates dictated that no lunch break was taken. I'm not at my best hungry, so by the time I'd raced back down the M4, topped up Toyah, I was reaching the end of my tether as I inched the van out of the drive into the path of the "ever so abusive yummy mummies clogging the roads up on the school run. It was a very fraught 10 mins that entailed much leaning on horns and giving of filthy looks. Little did they know I am a world expert on giving filthy looks and I'd taken the precaution of turning off my hearing aids!
We're hitched up and ready for the off just as Herself rocks up from work. If i was one to have suspicions I may think that she'd been parked up the hill waiting for the right moment!
I've still not eaten and my patience with other rush hour drivers is non existent. Cutting me up seemed to be the game of the day which ensured the middle finger was given plenty of air time (shamelessly stolen from @legsdown whose excellent blog can be read
HERE.)
We get as far as Magor and Herself can bear no more of my vitriol, so I'm instructed to exit the M4 to procure some crap from the golden arches to throw down my neck. The last 20 miles to site was somewhat more relaxed and we're pulling in through the gates at last light.
Setting up was a breeze, and one by one I test the van's services. All was going well until it came to priming the water system. With a brimmed aquaroll and the dump valve closed I fired up the system. The pump sparked into life and started to run, and run, and run, and run. No pressure, nothing, ziltch.
I examine to gubbins under the seat and all looks fine (not that I really knew what I was looking for! With the absence of a tyre to kick i dig out the instructions. The manual suggests either a knackered pump or air getting into the feed line. I check all the pipes again and cannot find any leaks.
Having already checked that I'd plugged in the pipe to the side of the van properly I dismissed that as an option. In my head now I'm already planning my aggressive telephone conversation with 3aaa in the morning. It was then I has a light bulb moment and went back out to check the aquaroll. Shining a torch into the abyss the problem was staring straight back at me. Feed pipe that came with the van tightly coiled was springing back up to the surface - sucking in huge quantities of air!
I take the opportunity to kick myself while continually bending the plastic hose in the other direction to straighten it out adding a short length of plastic conduit for my shopping list tomorrow.
Friday 8 March
We had a superb night's kip in the very comfortable bed, and enjoyed the first cuppa of the day watching Piers Morgan talk down to another unfortunate guest.
I throw the canopy up before we get dressed to go out for a short walk. The walk will only be short, but will be dual purpose. Firstly the dogs need to sort themselves out and secondly I'm not yet allowed to use the cooker in the new caravan, it's sparkly clean and Herself wants to keep it that way, so a pit stop at The Black Shed for breakfast is on the agenda.
We have stuff to get and a trip to Gloucester is necessary for a big plastic box, a waste kit (we've lost ours) and some conduit. We struggled to be honest. B & M threw a blank as did The Range. There was a Homebase nearby, but I wouldn't go in there as I'm currently boycotting shops that sell items that I cannot afford to buy!
Herself pops into Tesco while I have a mooch in a local hardware store (which comes up trumps) before we head back to the van.
The weather is pants, so a plan is hatched to go over to the pub for a few pints. It's an early start so could get messy!
Seems we're not the only ones though and we chat to a steady stream of other caravanners as they too pop in for a quick pint. Before we knew it we're six pints deep, and I'm feeling no pain whatsoever, but in desperate need of something in my belly to do some mopping up. The cooker is still out of bounds so we adjourn to the dog friendly dining room to wolf a scotch egg starter and meat pie main.
Hiccuping, and with full bellies we contentedly zig zag out way back to the caravan to settle down for the night.
Saturday 9 March
I wake up and Herself has a confession to make. I'm just happy (read smug as you can be) and relieved that I was not the first to break something in the new van. During the night, when fumbling around in the darkness she'd managed to pull the toilet roll holder from it's fixing point - Easily fixed.
It's international day, and to get myself in the mood Alexa is instructed to pump out some Max Boyce and Dafydd Iwan to start the day off.
Herself christens the cooker to dry fry some bacon to throw between slices of bread which is devoured and washed down with s steaming cup of builders before taking the dogs for a walk along the canal behind the site.
There's a cafe in a converted narrow boat moored up about 50 yards from from the bridge, it looks really cosey inside, but don't know if it would be worth a visit as the menu is most Vegan or Veggie!
Back at the van Herself has completed the task of making herself beautiful and is ready to head off out for a few hours. Before that though I am put on the spot. Herself has been doing some people watching, and our conversation went something like this.
"You know the couple on the next pitch?"
"Yes love."
"Well, every time before he goes out to do something he gives her s kiss. Why don't you do that?"
"I could never do that."
"Why ever not?"
"How can I, I don't even know her."
I get a dig in the ribs as she pushes past on her way to Toyah.
We call into Sainsburys in Dursley for some stuff that Tesco don't stock before taking the scenic route back to site.
We pull in to throw a ball for the dogs in a field on some high ground and watch a few gliders going for it on the thermals. I just wish I'd brought a decent camera to be able to catch a decent shot of them.
Back on site I settle down to watch the Scotland Wales match with a few bottles of Amstel for company.
Tali realises that maybe this is the end of his excursions for the day and starts to pout, maybe even a little Mellon-collie (do you see what I did there?).
Anyway, Wales won, and it's now 4 out of 4, with the Grand Slam to play for next weekend. As darkness descends we get a special visitor. Beastie has come to see Dats and Mims (she also brought her parents), and for the time being our Charisma 635 is renamed Ninky Nonk (In the night garden).
Ronnie and I head off out to pick up a Chinese for supper. fair play it was superb, and if you're ever in these parts you'll do worse that pick up a few bags full of food from China Chef in Cam.
After food I get the pleasure of cwtching and singing Beastie to sleep in the bedroom, before we sit up late talking.
Sunday 10 March
Ronnie wakes us with a cuppa in bed and Beastie joins us for some CBeebes before breakfast.
We all pile into Toyah and head north, firstly to Robins Hill Park to give the dogs a good run, and then to the Historic Docks for a look around.
The sun is out and at times it can be blinding. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Herself thinks otherwise and is adamant that my having a senior moment had more of an influence on me nearly mounting a kerb and wiping out two bollards in an effort to create another entrance to the car park!!
Despite this I am still on driving duty and allowed to push Beastie in her pushchair, fair play she wasn't at all nervous! We pass a scooter rally, some really looking the part in Fishtail Parkers!
The Quays are out of bounds though with no dogs allowed signs everywhere, so we take cover in "The Tank" that advertises that they are dog friendly.
Down the stairs we trudge and take an over sized table. I go to the bar and start scanning the pumps. I see nothing normal, and it would appear that the place only sells Craft Beers. I start to take a bit more notice of my surroundings - wall to wall hipsters! I'm not wearing skinny jeans, not do I have a big bushy beard, so feel a little out of place.
I settle on a Pale Ale, Herself has a wine and both Ronnie and YG have a poncy over priced soft drink.
Even thought he sun is out, the wind is howling and has a really cold edge to it, so decide to head back to the car and take a spin to find somewhere for lunch.
Beastie needs a nap, so we make a bit of a spin of it and find ourselves in Cirencester. First stop off is Clarke's so that Ronnie and YG can get Beastie measured up and buy her her first pair of proper shoes.
We lunch in the excellent Crown before heading back to site with the plan of a walk along the canal. We abandon Toyah and head straight out as the weather is starting to turn.
With swan and duck food purchased (what a con! just crumpled ice cream cones in a bag!) we take the towpath north. The swans remained in hiding , but a few ducks and gulls had the good grace to come out and present themselves to Beastie.
The weather takes a further dip and by the time we seek refuge in The Tudor Arms for a swift half (OK a pint) it is starting to rain.
A case of battening down the hatched this evening as it turns really foul outside. Once more I get the privilege of boring Beastie to sleep, but none of us are late tonight and we're all tucked up well before 10pm.
Monday 11 March
Once again we are woken by Ronnie with a cuppa in bed before we set about breaking camp. With his assistance we are not long, and are pulling out of the gates well before 10am.
The journey home was uneventful (for me), but the boredom was temporarily broken near Newport when a tit in a hired van (who had messed me around for 15 miles by slowing down and then speeding up as I tried to overtake) missed his exit and then went sideways as he tried to make the turn on the chevrons.
Maybe my tooting and waving at him was a little churlish as he sat in a pool of his own bodily fluids?
The shakedown trip?
Well, the twin is extremely stable on the road, not that the S7 was unstable, but you know what I mean.
A little harder to manoeuvre, even with a quad motor mover.
We love the layout. We had our concerns with a midships shower room, but these have proved to be unfounded. It worked great, and accommodated 4 adults, a baby/toddler and 3 dogs with ease.
And the bed is just great!
Until next time .......
