Walking the dogs this week in rural Cambridgeshire, I came across an abandoned caravan in a small yard miles from anywhere. Such is life, that once you spot one, you spot more and by yesterday I’d seen more abandoned caravans than one could sake a stick at. I came to the conclusion in the middle of the night that I’d discovered where old caravans go to die…
I was awake and in my mind’s eye,
I wondered where caravans go when they die,
when you stop to look and stare,
you see dead caravans everywhere.
They remember a time,
when the kids were both young,
old-fashioned holidays,
in the rain and the sun,
such great excitement,
with Lucy and Lance,
queuing at Dover,
before a ferry to France.
Life slowed down,
when the kids left home,
Sid and Betty,
were left on their own,
gentle weekends,
with the caravan club,
a few days away,
in a field by a pub.
Sid stopped driving,
and Betty didn’t tow,
sold the van to a rider,
to take to a show,
but then the rider,
got bored with her horse,
the caravan now lays abandoned,
between the elder and gorse.
…as for boats,
it’s different I think,
they just give up,
and finally sink!
If you’ve been away in a caravan for Half-Term I hope you had a wonderful time and brought back many wonderful memories.
© Baldock Bard 2018
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