When my husband suggested a year out travelling the world, I had many thoughts. First of all, would we have to sell the house? (This was a big no-no for me, perenially risk averse, I'd need some security to come back to) Secondly would I be able to take my hair straighteners and lastly, when could I start perusing 5 star hotel brochures? So he did what he's very good at. Answers to the first two were almost immediate 'No and yes'. Then he spent a couple of weeks lulling me into a false sense of security, before dropping the bombshell. In this instance and you'll get the picture pretty soon that bombshells are regularly dropped by him - it was (in his words) 'the three words that every girls dreams of: In a campervan'. 'Why?' I bleated weakly. Cue a long monologue on how flying into airports and transferring to hotels wouldn't give us the full experience of the journey, we wouldn't meet real people, we wouldn't see the off-the-beaten-track places. Oh and it's cheaper, he added pouring me a glass of wine.
Now if you know my husband, you'll be reading this and shaking your head in disbelief. Not at his craziness, but at my naivety. You'll be remembering the time he decided to manage a boy-band. ('It could be a great career move') or the time he persuaded us all that a snake was the perfect pet ('It only needs feeding once a week.' Me: 'What does it eat?' Him: 'Dead mice') How could I be so stupid as to think a year travelling would be straightforward? Not a chance.
So for 15 months, I have woken in the early hours panicking about one aspect or another of the trip. How would we school the girls? Would they fall behind? Would we get malaria? (If it can happen to Cheryl, no-one's safe) Where would I plug my straighteners in? It's probably the right time to address the hair issue, because I know you're probably thinking this is a slight overreaction on my part. I only have longer hair because I have straighteners. My hair is horribly curly and not in a nice way. I just couldn't (literally) get my head around looking back on photos of the year with my hair looking like a mop. I may be obsessive, I clearly have issues, but you'll just have to bear with me on this one. My friend K has seen my hair when we've been camping and she will testify it's not a pretty sight. In fact when we told her we were going away, pretty much her first question was 'What about your hair?'. (Other first questions included 'Where's the toilet?' Answer: ' We have a spade' and 'Are you taking the children?' Answer: 'I don't suppose we can persuade you to have them for a year?') So the straighteners are coming (along with the children). In fact, two pairs of straighteners are in. My electric pair and a gas powered pair bought for me by one of my friends who understands my issues. Sorry, but I don't think this is the last we've heard of this subject.
So here we are 15 months later, about to start the biggest adventure we've embarked on. The schools have been fantastic, we've said goodbye to everyone, and we're on the cusp of something big. We generally can't even drive into town without a row ensuing between the three girls. How will we make it round the world? And living in a campervan? It must have been pretty strong wine he gave me that night .....
PS as an additional feature in this blog, each entry title is a lyric from a song. No prizes, it's just for fun, and I'll give you the answer in the next entry.
Today's is very hard, so I'll give you a clue. Neil Hannon wrote it.
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