We are as excited and committed as ever about our 2010 summer season and have an even bigger reason to be excited about the future. MotorhomesUK are pleased to announce we are now able to supply vehicles for hire throughout Europe. It’s a great idea and it came to us in a ‘flash of inspiration!’

It has become clear after hiring UK based motorhomes for travel in Europe that not every hirer wants to drive to Dover, get on a ferry and begin the long journey to France or Spain or Germany – it’s a jolly long way and a lot of driving! So why not get on a low cost flight from a regional airport, land in a European country and pick up a left hand drive vehicle at a local depot? Why not?

This is such a great idea if you are thinking of doing the whole European camping thing, it’s easy and convenient and with local flights at low fares and brand new motorhomes for pick ups at depots such as Paris, Napoli, Malaga and Lisbon you can really get to enjoy Europe at its best, easily and conveniently.

With the launch of this new and exciting concept of fly-hire, motorhoming abroad has just become accessible and convenient for all our British hirers.

We have launched our new revolutionary European fly-hire section on our website, so look out for some imaginative motorhoming destinations on there and enjoy booking your European motorhome adventure safely and securely with a UK based company operated and regulated in the UK.

Bavaria, perhaps somewhere you might not have thought of but we spent a great holiday there at the end of March this year. The weather was fabulous, warm enough to sit outside a café bar in a sun top plus great scenery and countryside – very ‘hills are alive with the sound of music!’

The region is very rural, rolling meadows flanked by the impressive Alps. Bavaria stands in a little triangle where Austria, Germany and Switzerland meet, allowing you to tour three countries in your motorhome with little hassle. We stayed in a lovely Bavarian town called Isny. From here you could travel to Zurich, Salzburg and even Innsbruck. It’s a bit like ‘buy one-get three free’.

Isny is a small walled town dating back to the thirteen hundreds with its own moat and quaint cobbled streets literally oozing with bars, cafes, restaurants, bakeries and Gasthofs. There is heaps of history in Isney and is well worth a stop. Not much English is spoken here although the people are so friendly you can get by, we did and we are completely non-German speaking except for rot Wien (red wine) danke (thank you) and hallo (self explanatory). But then the bread is so good and the local beer is even better it wouldn’t be difficult to learn the German for those two things and live on them for a week!

If you are thinking about going to this area it’s worth a visit to Lake Konstanz. It will only take you about thirty minutes from Isny and if you drive down to Landau and over onto the island of Bodensee you will find beautiful outdoor café bars, already warm and bright in the early spring sunshine. There are some fantastic shops here too, designer labels lining the wide cobbled platz. Great ice cream too!

Neuschwanstein castle is a must see. Up high in the Alps close to the Austrian border King Ludwig had a replica medieval castle built based on the operas of his good friend Wagner. It’s a great day out, you can even ride to the top of the mountain on a horse and cart and when you have completed the tour you can walk back down and enjoy frankfurter and chips el fresco in the sunshine at one of the little bars nestled at the base of the mountain – what a day out.

So if Europe is taking your fancy and you want to broaden your horizons and see something different on the continent brush down your lederhosen and get going!

My husband (who prides himself on ‘taking me to the best places’) began collecting the vouchers in January “£9.50 each, what a bargain” he proclaimed triumphantly when he was awarded our first choice and our third date choice of accommodation.
So, here we were tramping down the M5 with ham sandwiches in my Mums Rover 25, in October, are we mad!
It took a long seven hours to get there, Elvis had been round and round on the I-pod (or P-pod as my Mother-in-law calls it, she also calls a Blackberry a Blueberry, but we all know what she means) infact if I heard Rags to Riches one more time I could quite easily become a JLS fan……mmm maybe not, things aren’t quite that bad.

As the roads became more and more narrow and the sat-nav became more hysterical we realised we weren’t far off the caravan site. Pulling into reception we were welcomed into the Hi-de-hi world of the British holiday camp by very friendly reception and bar staff, who seemed to spend most of their time helpfully driving around the site fixing holiday-makers caravan heating systems, but more of this later. A big draughty bar and cavernous ‘cabaret bar’ welcomed us with the promise of Bingo at eight, a guest act at ten and a disco at eleven. Considering there was only about twelve people and one fluffy Pomeranian staying on site they were highly ambitious and determined to entertain us.

So, please remember, I am usually singing the praises of hiring a motorhome for touring pleasure and adventurous fun. Now I am going to explain the concept of staying in a static caravan (it seems apt Halloween is only around the corner because this could make for scary reading). Please make yourself comfortable.

Picture it, looming up in the distance was a row of caravans, highlighted by the slowly sinking sun. Number 30, a Bluebird model, silver rated in the brochure and a credit to its rating. We opened the door and were nearly toppled from the top step with the wall of stale tobacco that met us. Now I’m not for a moment suggesting all the caravans had this problem but for four non smokers this wasn’t a great welcome! This is the point where I must take the opportunity and point out that we do not allow smoking in our hire vehicles so whether you decide to go on a smoke free mobile holiday with MotorhomesUK or spend your January afternoons cutting out vouchers you can at least make an educated decision about whether you are ok about spending your holiday smelling like twenty Bensons. Apart from this, and the three quid we spent on Oust (which didn’t work) the rest was pretty good. Everything worked in the van, apart from the heating and the hot water at first! It seemed the previous occupant had enjoyed him/herself changing the settings and basically messing the whole system up. Never fear, Mother-in-law was on hand to morph into Pete the plumber and eventually fiddled so much with the boiler it gave up the fight and sputtered its protest in a stream of VERY hot water. Result.
The bedrooms were tiny, the walls were as thin as A4 and the bathroom floor was permanently wet but apart from this we knew we were going to have a great time.

We took the coastal path to Polperro the next day, down to the tiny little harbour for crab sandwiches and glasses of cider in the Three Pilchards pub. The sun was out, it was t-shirt weather and the mixture of lunchtime cider, sunshine and holiday camp excitement made for a heady cocktail. We couldn’t wait for the evening cabaret. My Mother-in-law could hardly contain herself, my Mum didn’t show as much verve and my husband was positively adverse to spending a whole hour in the Cabaret hall. He soon changed his mind when he joined the other five campers in the room to enjoy an evening with the local ‘songstress’ who threatened if we didn’t all look a bit more lively she would go home and do her ironing. After listening to a rendition of Cher I considered doing the same!

It’s tiring being on holiday, and after a day strolling the warm sunny streets of Padstow, eating Rick Stein fish and chips (he actually turned up, my husband refused to take a picture of him or ask for his autograph so we have nothing to show for it and he did look a bit grumpy, probably because people from Sun holidays keep taking pictures of him!) After we had bumped up his bank balance by going mad in his deli and patisserie we headed to Bodmin moor to the Jamaica Inn. Half an hour later having dredged up everything we could remember from the Jamaica Inn episode of Most Haunted we returned to camp to take advantage of the pool and sauna (oh yes, this was a ‘proper’ static site). There was a large pool which, incidentally, didn’t induce an icy heart attack on entry and the sauna was great too.

After the previous night ‘a la cabaret’ we intrepidly made our way down the dark path to tonight’s entertainment. The ‘act’ was busy in the bar whipping up a willing audience. This consisted of about seven, to quote him, he would have liked ten but the Pomeranian had obviously decided to spend his evening in his Bluebird due to extreme exhaustion from walking the hills and an overdose of Cher tracks. He ought to try seven hours in our Rover with Rags to Riches and Burning Love after two traffic jams, four ham sandwiches and four E-numbered over active campers after two bags of midget gems.

So, back to the ‘cabaret’ it was a guy called Kevin. He had a tough job to do but was up for the challenge.
“Have we any Elvis fans in the room” he yelled optimistically. Yeah, we know Rags to Riches! It must have been the vodka but for some reason me and my husband screamed “Yeaaaaah” and therein lay the problem. From now on we were singled out. We did the dance to the Frankfurt Special, we did the actions to Born to Rock, for three minutes we were Elvis and Ann-Margaret. Then our vodka ran out and we had to invest in another £12 round in order for us to get through an improvised version of In the Jungle where my husband, bless his heart, donned a rubber Lions head and had to roar all the way through the song. If this is striking fear into your heart, you are probably right, I did warn you Halloween is around the corner. The clock crept to 11.00pm and Kevin decided to express his thanks for our support by singing The Wonder of You as his grand finale. Unfortunately for him my husband was so tipsy by then when Kevin invited him to do the Woooah bit he hijacked the mic and continued without Kevin and sang the whole song alone, eventually standing at the end for his big moment in front of all his adoring fans (all seven of them) the wonder of yooooooooooo!!!! It was at this moment I knew why I had married this man!

The ‘mums’ were in stitches and even the chilly Bluebird could not dampen our spirits as we returned to crawl into our lumpy short beds.

This story might put you off holiday camps forever and I will be perfectly happy if you shun them in order to hire a motorhome for your summer holiday. However, the moral of this story is to try something different, have a good time and enjoy every minute, like we did. Life is too short to whinge and moan.
Anyway, have to go now to sharpen my scissors for next years voucher cutting, maybe next year we might upgrade to a Bluebird Gold rated, or maybe we might just take one of our motorhomes instead and think back fondly on our first CHAVS holiday, which of course stands for Cheap Holidays At Various Sites!

We had two sites booked for three nights, one with lots of dripping wet trees (http://www.woodlandcaravanpark.co.uk/) the other with lots of noisy birds (http://www.rivendalecaravanpark.co.uk/). They were both lovely, what we could see of them through the grey soggy veil of mist and water!

So when in doubt, forget the walk through the fells of Castleton and Bakewell, get out the Scrabble, put on the kettle and spend some quality time together. Two bottles of good Spanish red helps too, especially when you are playing Scrabble, (Yes cokfartinker is a word- how DARE YOU!)

It’s a bit more difficult with three people in a motorhome, mornings take longer, the queue for the loo is longer and cooked breakfasts seem to be army canteen style but all in all it worked ok. The water tank needed filling twice as much, although once we had stopped said mother-in-law flushing for fun it wasn’t too bad. I even ventured for a shower in the campsite block (not necessary, could’ve just stood outside) unusual for me doing this I prefer the cosy warm plastic cocoon of the motorhome shower. I have reminded myself why. It is not pleasant trotting through the campsite in the pouring rain accompanied by a slug who has leapt from his muddy puddle and attached himself to the lower portion of your pyjama pants, and refuses to sucker off when I tried removing him! Could have been a girl slug, who knows, but I bet it was a boy.

Our last day was ok, dry and a bit sunny. My husband morphed into Bear Grylls again around his barbeque, cooking snake and wilderbeast and small bugs and locusts (thanks Morrisons for the burgers and pork steaks!)

So 5 survival tips (I don’t tell everybody)
1. Wine (this doesn’t need further explaining)
2. Board games, not Monopoly, you don’t want the local police around.
3. Plenty of food. Food soothes the soul and also gives you something to do.
4. Books, magazines, newspapers, these give you a damn good excuse not to talk to anyone.
5. A good campsite with slug free showers, hairdryers and toilets that flush first time.

Now, go, pack up and enjoy yourself, rain or no rain.

Infact, I was really looking forward to it. A few days in our motorhome would be a lovely break (hmmm, maybe I’ll buy a West Highland terrier, put him in a plaid jacket, start wearing purple and moaning about busy main roads and people who drive over 40mph!) I’m only thirty-four but I have to be honest I was quite excited.

We arrived at our campsite a short walk from Robin Hoods Bay (Great site with fab facilities) and set up our outdoor furniture, it was a bit chilly and grey to be honest but we had decided to do a barbeque, and do a barbeque we would! Opening our beers and watching people to and fro from their caravans with their water carriers to the tap we thanked our lucky stars we had a 100litre tank lurking under our dinette.

‘Phew it’s hard work this camping’ my husband sighed as he relaxed in his chair drinking his beer and watching the burgers fizz on the hot coals.
‘Hmmm, yep, certainly is’ I agreed.

The following day it rained, a lot. We didn’t care. We even managed a walk along the beach, staring into the rock pools for orange and brown shells. We even found a fossil!
Escaping the weather we sat in the pub http://www.robin-hoods-bay.co.uk/html/eating_out/bay_hotel.htm It was great watching the grey sea rush onto the beach with a glass of white wine and a seafood platter.

The following day dawned bright and sunny and we decided to venture into Whitby. It was the start of the Bank Holiday and when we booked the site we were told there wasn’t any space for us. Now, in a motorhome you will never really be homeless but without a campsite you can feel a bit ‘anchor-less’. Usually once you are present on a campsite they can find it hard to tell you to ‘get on yer bike’ so it’s worth asking (or begging, pleading, throwing yourself on their mercy) for a pitch. We were lucky (or not so) as we found out later.
‘Yes, we can squeeze you in’ said the man at Middlewood campsite www.middlewoodfarm.com

Great! We set off to Whitby knowing we had a nice plot to return to that evening. We bought fresh seafood, prawns, crab, mackerel and mussels for lunch and a lot of white wine. After trudging up the steps to the ancient Abbey and carrying our supplies back to our chariot we were shattered so we set off to our little bit of peace and tranquillity back at the campsite.

We parked up in the relatively empty farmer’s field along with a small transit-type camper and a little pop up VW that looked like it was born around the same time as the first episode of the A-Team. Everything was quiet, still, the kettles were a-whispering, the cows were a-mooing (mmmm) and everyone was lazily lighting barbeques and reading the Times. Then, all of a sudden out of no-where. There was the invasion of ‘The Tent People!’ I can’t remember being so scared since I was seven watching ‘The Triffids’ for the first time. There wasn’t just one little Peugeot 106 crammed to the roof with canvas but at least thirty of them. They were queuing and vying for the best spot, openly pushing and shoving their fellow campers. As more began flooding through the gates chewing up the field a trailer tent arrived. The driver obviously regarded himself as more superior to the Tentonians because he kept revving his Jeep’s engine and reversing wildly across the field.

It didn’t take long for the campsite wardens to take control and they packed the canvas village in nice and tight, so tight infact, if you were sat on your ‘porta-potti’ in one tent you could easily reach out and pinch a sausage off next doors barbeque. Nice trick.

We had so much fun watching the Tentonians erect their brightly coloured palaces, some were very efficient, some not so good, but one young couple were really struggling. It took a fellow camper to pour salve on the situation by taking down their wrinkly, bunched up accommodation and re-build it to standard, thus avoiding a full blown public domestic.

So for now, the moral of this story is don’t hassle yourself with putting up leaky damp spider infested tents, hire yourself a lovely all-singing, all-dancing, motorhome and ALWAYS make sure you don’t get stuffed in a tent field as last resort in it!

And remember Whitby is great and it isn’t just for ‘old’ people!

Whenever we go on these adventures we (nearly) always take along our two buddies, Julie and 5 star Trev, who since our successful trip to Germany has embraced camping like a teenager embraces Big Brother and a PSP console!

We didn’t know what to expect at all, apart from the promise of American classic cars, the fast food stands and quite a lot of bands that Julie seemed to know an awful lot about and we had never heard of!

Taking a motorhome away with friends is great fun, we packed up with all the food we needed and plenty of booze and set off. Julie and 5 star Trev met us on the way and packed all their gear in too, minus Julie’s hairdryer that had somehow found its way into her case (probably a lapse of camping concentration)!

We were given a choice of hard standing (on the old airstrip runway) or grass. Hmmm, not a hard decision to make. So safely situated on the airstrip we packed up our beer and wine, walked to the main stage and settled down in our camping chairs. 5 hours later and a bit worse for wear we went back to start our BBQ (we like the thrill of the combination of semi-drunk BBQ operatives and two foot flames, yeah, tomb-stoners beware this is the thrill of 2009).

This is the sensible bit………                                            

Tip: You do walk a long way at these summer festivals, especially at Newark showground, the ground is enormous!

Best to pack a nice comfy pair of shoes (even if they don’t look great with your rock n roll outfit). Don’t do what I did and spend all weekend in a pair of 4 inch stilettos sinking into the damp ground!

End of tip!                                                                            

Imelda May

The highlight was Imelda May on the centre stage on the Saturday, problem was Colin Paul and the Persuaders were on at the same time on stage 2 so we abandoned Imelda half way through to listen to Colin blasting out Promised Land and Johnny b Good whilst we danced around our brollies and sang at the top of our voices.

The entertainment continues inside at these festivals, in what can only be described as being like a big cowshed. People were squashed in wall-to-wall. If ever there was an advert of ‘what not to do’ in times of a flu crisis, it was this. We made our speedy escape, only to find out the following week there is an incubation period for all the little virusy bugs to make themselves at home and get comfy. For ten days after me and my husband sat staring at each other waiting for the onset of the ‘black death’! I blame the hysteria on the News at 10! The guy that stands in front of the screen featuring those big red, fuzzy, magnified bacteria positively relishes the thought of half the worlds population suffering with unspeakable symptoms, probably because he knows while it’s going on his job is safe!

Apart from the threat of swine flu I can recommend Americana, http://www.americana-international.co.uk/ it is really great fun and there are some excellent bands on, especially Union Avenue who are kind of Johnny Cash who don’t sing Johnny Cash songs, instead they cover Bob Marley and sing it like Johnny Cash. Bizarre, but great. So if you don’t mind camping on a broken up runway with lots of guys dressed as cowboys and lots of girls dressed as Patsy Cline it could be your thing. If you go next year watch out for us, we are the ones with the cooler full of Polish beer and a surgical mask on

Dubbed ‘camping for wimps’ motorhome holidays are crammed full of luxuries such as hot water (although not endless, hot nonetheless!), comfy beds and warm non-draughty evenings in front of the TV (if you want). Well this is how we ‘sold it’ to our friends when we persuaded them to join us on one of our adventures.

Firstly, you need to know, Trevor and Julie are 5 star accommodation advocates, travelling abroad to them is a haze of airports, Marriott hotels and Egyptian cotton sheets. You can imagine their immediate delight and subsequent fear when we arrived at their semi one early March evening with our ferry tickets secured and a fridge full of food for our journey to Germany.

I must explain at this stage that the reason we were travelling to the land of beer, bratwurst and sauerkraut was not just for an early holiday but to see a concert in honour of The King of Rock n Roll himself! Yes, it was 60 years since Elvis got his call-up papers and was marched off to Bad Nauheim in Germany. We had decided how wonderful it would be, not to fly out there, but to drive. So that was settled! Julie couldn’t wait to transplant all her belongings into our 5 berth motorhome, including slippers, electric toothbrush, numerous items of clothing, and a big fat, heavy feather duvet. I could at this point draw on the differences of myself and my husband being northerners and Trevor and Julie being southerners and that was why they needed the BIG duvet, but actually they were sensible as Germany was to prove rather chilly!

Unfortunately at first Trevor did not share the enthusiasm of the rest of us and was reticent about the lack of a luxury tiled whirlpool bath and a large walk in dressing room.

This soon changed as we headed for Dover. Once off the ferry we began our way through France only stopping to gather a few essentials, mainly beer and wine, we were then on our way through the fields of Belgium. It was beginning to get dark and for the first time myself and my husband’s stoic attitude was failing. In fact it was getting VERY dark and we were struggling to find somewhere to stop. I am inviting those people that have already been lost in the wilderness of Belgium to probably relive their nightmare and I am warning those people who have yet to make this mistake to take heed.

Luckily Julie accessed the internet on her Blackberry to look for a campsite, unluckily the campsite was shut-up, overgrown and resembled a scene from a horror film set in the Australian bush!

No fear, we found a small, silent village and to be on the safe side parked outside the local police station. Although this village also looked like a scene from Shaun of the Dead we put our imaginings down to tiredness, an over active imagination and the fact that on the other side of the road was a graveyard.

We had our dinner, pre-cooked chilli (you have to be prepared), even Trev was impressed, I think he was secretly expecting sausage and beans around a campfire!

After a liberal amount of French wine and several rounds of an obscure (but fun and raucous) board game, we retired to bed. Myself and my husband hopping up the ladder to the over cab bed and pulling the curtains across like something from a Punch and Judy show, whilst Julie and Trev converted the dinette. They were completely mummified in hats, gloves and pyjamas, and it wasn’t even THAT cold, just wait for Germany.

The morning came, and with it people venturing to work completely oblivious to our presence. It always amazes and delights my husband that he can be getting on with showering, shaving and all the while people are wandering around the motorhome, unaware of what he is doing (thank goodness).

With a full English in our tummies we set off to find Germany. We did find it, and the Sat Nav found us our campsite too, in the middle of the beautiful German countryside, by the side of a lake. It was rumoured Elvis had visited here and although it was a bit muddy because of the time of year we could see why it was said it was one of his favourite places. Lake Gedern is a short way from Bad Nauheim and on first viewing did not look much better than the desolate site in Belgium, but it did have electric hook up (bring on the hairdryer) and extra squeaky clean shower and toilet block, albeit a bit of a walk through woodland and undergrowth (queue the Blair Witches!)

We celebrated our arrival with a barbeque before the fella’s went off for a beer in the small German campsite bar. 8 hours later they were still AWOL and Julie and I were beginning to think they had fallen in the lake and their attendance at Lake Gedern would turn into a legend just like the great Mr Presley’s. About 2.30am we bravely put our coats over our pyjamas, pulled on our boots and tramped up the very creepy, very damp and muddy hill to the bar with our torch. We were only going to spy, quietly, covertly and phantom-like through the window, but horror upon horror, just as we were making our retreat after confirming the safety and overall ‘alive-ness’ of our loved ones, two drunken figures with their arms wrapped around each other made their exit from the bar. Forced to run back to our motorhome in walking boots and silky pyjamas with the boy’s torch light illuminating our embarrassed forms, we have yet to live this episode down.

They were silly and drunk in the motorhome that night, behaving like giggly school girls and adorning us with tales of German hospitality, beer fuelled karaoke sessions to Suspicious Minds and the general warblings that drunk people recite.

‘At least you didn’t mention the war’ I said.

 ‘I did’ said my husband proudly.

After the giggling from the boy’s and the sulking from the girl’s, morning came. With it came the hangovers. They were both very brave though!

That morning we drove to Bad Nauheim to meet Elvis’ photographer (yes, really) and to see the hotel where Elvis stayed whilst in the Army. It’s a lovely place and well worth a visit.

The concert that evening was held in an elegant hotel (Trev loved it)! The concert was amazing, magical and well worth the journey. We all agreed it is moments like this where life is very special and should be enjoyed at every twist and turn. That night we slept in the hotel car park and ate late night curry (pre-cooked, of course).

By this time we were all in the camping spirit, even Trev didn’t mind the chilly nights in his Noel Coward pyjamas or the grit under his bare feet off our outdoor shoes. In fact he even emptied the chemical toilet to prove how he had improved during his time away!

Breakfast was a long, sunny al fresco affair of German meat and boiled eggs washed down with beer and hot chocolate (I was driving).

We didn’t want to come home, not that we were dreading the return journey, we just didn’t want to come home. Admittedly Trevor was looking forward to having a shower that didn’t involve ‘standing in a cupboard’ as he put it, but all in all for two young (ish) couples we were having a ball.

We began the journey home and looked forward to our final night of joviality, playing cards, listening to music, drinking wine and…………..running out of Calor Gas. Yes, it did cause a small fracais. The realisation that the very ‘life blood’ of our motorhome relied on this commodity hit very hard when we had to cook our evening meal in pans wrapped in foil over a throw away barbeque in a motorway service area in Belgium…….in the rain. It was lovely Coq au Vin though, (pre-cooked, of course).

Stopping in Calais and Dunkerque to see the second world war cemeteries and eating moules and frites in a delicious port side restaurant was a great finish to our German adventure.

It was worth the mileage, worth the planning, and worth mustering our adventurous sides. Even, ‘5 star’ Trevor and Julie said it was one of the best holidays they had ever had, so all I can do is recommend it. Try it for yourself!