There’s something uniquely magical about the first time you pack up your motorhome after a blissful weekend away. It’s a mix of relaxation, utter confusion, and the growing realisation that you have more “stuff” to store than you ever thought humanly possible. As a Project Portfolio Manager, I’m used to handling chaos, but it seems my real challenge wasn’t managing multimillion-pound projects—it was trying to decant grey water while standing in sandles without causing a biohazard.
Yes, friends, this is the story of our first trip in Happy Little Place (or HLP for short). Prepare yourself for a tale of checklists, overthinking, and the occasional battle with flappy electric covers.
The Rise and Grind of Project Manager Mode
It all began one fine morning at 7 a.m.—a sleep-in for me, considering I’m usually up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. The sun, in its infinite wisdom, had already started covering our motorhome in its warm, golden rays. As I stood there sipping my coffee, admiring how perfectly the world was, my brain slipped into what I can only call Project Manager Mode.
I wasn’t thinking about work—thankfully—but I was thinking about the sheer complexity of packing up HLP. As the caffeine began its morning takeover of my neurons, I mentally drafted a checklist of what needed to be done before we rolled out. You know, just your typical relaxing vacation stuff.
Here’s where the absurdity of my brain took over, leading to this delightful, not-at-all-overkill checklist:
The “External Stuff” Checklist: A Masterpiece in Paranoia
First things first, what’s happening outside the van? (Because obviously, the exterior of a motorhome is a mysterious realm filled with hoses and gadgets I’d already forgotten existed.)
- Ladder stored (at storage only) – I mean, it’s not like I planned to Spider-Man my way up the side of the van without one.
- Check Gas in bottle – Who knew gas bottles don’t fill themselves?
- Turn Gas bottle off (twist right for close) – Turns out there’s a right way to turn this thing off, and yes, it’s to the right. No explosions for me, thank you.
- Ensure gas cabinet locked – Like I need a rogue squirrel getting in there and throwing a rave.
- Remove water hose from point and van, wind up and place in garage – Water hoses are apparently slippery creatures who refuse to behave unless tightly wound.
- Replace water tank filler point with locking cap and lock it – That’s right, locking everything. Even water caps need security.
- Switch power off on the main control panel – I love it when the van sounds like it’s powered down. Feels official.
- Make sure the bike rack is secure – Really secure. Bikes have a way of plotting escapes.
- Reversing cameras clean – Because no one wants to reverse into a tree with muddy cameras, that’s me with muddy cameras not the tree.
- Check tyres (pressure and wear) – This is my subtle nod to “being responsible” even though I can’t pretend to know what “good pressure” is.
- Check lights – I always fear the moment when someone behind us flashes their lights because we’re unknowingly on stealth mode.
- Check washer fluid – Priorities. Obviously.
- Check oil – Just checking; I know the van’s not cooking dinner.
By now, you’re thinking, “Is this man camping or launching a space shuttle?” But wait—there’s more!
The “Last-Minute Panic” Sub-checklist
Just before leaving, as we’re savouring the final moments of peace:
- Disconnect electricity cable (mains point first) – You’d be amazed how easy it is to become attached to external electricity, both emotionally and physically.
- Click the electric flappy cover shut – This thing flaps around like it’s auditioning for Cirque du Soleil if I forget.
- Decant the grey waste water responsibly – The operative word here is “responsibly,” though it usually ends up more like “Oops, I splashed my shoes again.”
- Turn on cold taps to empty fresh water tank – A critical step. We don’t want to create a mini Niagra Falls inside HLP while driving, hmmmmm!
- Open fresh water tank valve – Imagine the excitement of opening mysterious valves! It’s like Indiana Jones but with fewer booby traps.
- Check the garage is packed solidly – You’ll never know true terror until you’ve had pots and pans launch themselves at you mid-drive.
- Lock the garage – “Lock the garage” should honestly be printed on a T-shirt by now.
- Toilet cassette emptied and cleaned – Ah yes, the romance of motorhome life. Nothing says “weekend away” like handling a toilet cassette with a stiff upper lip.
- Place fiamma security bar over the habitation door – Because nothing screams “I’m responsible” quite like securing your van’s entrance with the word “fiamma.”
The Internal Checklist: Because Of Course There’s More
For those of you still with me, the interior of the van also has a mind-boggling list of things that must be done. Forgetting even one thing might mean an epic disaster—like accidentally leaving a cupboard unlocked, only to find your entire kitchenware collection on the floor.
- Windows locked and blinds up – I’m not sure who needs the blinds up, but it’s happening.
- Skylight paranoia – There’s one above the cabin, one above the kitchen, one in the bedroom, one in the toilet… If it’s a hole in the roof, I’m locking it.
- Bedroom cupboards locked – Yes, these sneaky little devils like to fly open at the most inopportune moments.
- Fridge & Freezer locked – You haven’t truly lived until a rogue lettuce rolls out at 70 mph.
You see, it’s not just a checklist—it’s an art form. And I’ve now automated this masterpiece into an app because, well, who doesn’t want their phone to remind them to close the toilet door?
The Drive Home: A Dance With Fate
Checklist completed, we left Cofton Holidays exactly at 5 p.m., right on schedule. Naturally, I had prepared myself for the inevitable M4 and M5 motorway traffic—because who doesn’t enjoy being stuck in a moving parking lot? But, to my utter shock, the traffic gods smiled upon us. Not a single tailback, not even on the Severn Bridge, which is usually a gateway to car-based purgatory.
It was like Moses parting the Red Sea, but with a motorhome instead of a staff.
Home Sweet Storage
Once we arrived at the storage facility, we decommissioned HLP like seasoned pros. Food? Out. Clothes? Out. Vague sense of accomplishment? In full swing. The van had done its job like a champ, save for a minor water leak that popped up on Friday, but let’s not dwell on that. Even a superhero has a bad day now and then.
By 8:30 p.m., exhaustion set in. My lovely wife Jo took over driving the last stretch home, and I sank into the passenger seat, already daydreaming about our next trip with HLP. Would we finally brave the awning? Could we pack even more efficiently? Could I possibly add more items to the checklist?
Only time would tell.
The Next Big Thing: Motorhome Security on a Budget
But wait, there’s more! Next weekend, I plan to tackle van security. Yes, it’s possible to create a mini Fort Knox inside your motorhome without breaking the bank. So, stay tuned for my next adventure: How to Become a Motorhome Security Expert While Still in Your Pajamas.
And that, dear readers, is the saga of our inaugural trip with Happy Little Place. If this is what it’s like every time we go away, I foresee a future filled with even more hilarious, over-planned, but deeply fulfilling motorhome journeys.