My 1st ever caravanning Woosie moment occurred about 40 years ago. I had a petrol station & had very few holidays but we had a caravan. A 1980 Abbey Durham. My only day off each week was a Wednesday so I decided to drive over to Sandhead near Stranaer with the van & get it pitched up ready for our forthcoming week away. I was towing with a diesel Sierra & it was slow going, hence why I thought it was a good idea to get the van on site then it would be a speedier run over on Saturday morning.
All went well, pitched up, awning up, water containers filled, Porta Porta ready for action! So we set off from Durham early Saturday knowing we were ready to rock when we got there. We get to somewhere around Hexham on the A69 when my wife asked if I had the caravan key, I didn’t so pulled over to do some brain racking, to no avail. This was in the days before mobile phones so I had to find a phone box & phoned my Dad, who was looking after the garage, & asked him if the key was hanging up behind the door, which of course, it wasn’t.
No option but to turn round & head back home. On the way I remembered where the key was, (there was only one) it would be in the pocket of the joggers I’d had on on Wednesday, which were in the laundry basket! Durrr, where else? Got home, checked pockets, no key. Then I had a thought, those joggers were notorious for things falling out of the pockets while I was sitting down. Loose change, keys etc.
There was the key all the time, well hidden down the side of the car seat.
We got to the site about 3 hours after we would’ve done if we’d just set off on Saturday!