Spurn Point is a magical place as far as I am concerned.

Its liminal – sometimes its one thing and sometimes another.  As you walk out to the point the sea is on your left and the marsh land on your right.  Only sometimes there is no path through; it’s a wash over area.  There is a shelter for those who ignore the high tide warning and get stuck, waiting for the water to subside so the path becomes visible again.  Much of it has disappeared for good and there are many abandoned buildings on the far end, beyond the lighthouse.

I was determined to walk to the furthest point.

I have to tell you that my sense of direction has never been good and the more I have used sat nav, the worse its got.  So I needed to put the post code of the campsite into the van’s navigation system.

Now, an awful confession.

I don’t like the voice of the van man– it’s nothing like the one that I get when I link up my phone.  If you are thinking ‘what a first world problem’, you would be right, nevertheless, he got me to the camp.

The owner had warned me that it was very wet and muddy and he wasn’t wrong.  Another camper guided me in (I was bravely reversing on) and kept me off the worst of the bogginess.

I hung up the lights, I turned on the gas and I put the kettle on.  Then I thought I would use the hook up.  Only to find that I had bought the wrong connection.  (The hook up lead was threaded through a minimally opened window).  Now this was a bit of an epic fail as I had planned to run the cool box and the heater off this.

The camp owner came over, friendly and helpful and asked if everything was OK.  I showed him my mistake and he uttered some wonderful words, ‘I’m a retired electrician – I expect I’ve got what you actually need’. And off he went to rummage in a box.  He came back with the correct connection and pointed out that if I had used what I had brought I could have easily electrocuted myself.

I gave him the cash for my stay (in a small coin bag of course) and felt pleased with myself.  OK – so I had made a mistake – but – I didn’t panic, fuss or tell myself I was useless.

I got lucky and I dealt with it.

Everything else was absolutely fine and I went off to walk to the beach before dark.

So this is it.

I’m in a van, on my own and its dark.

And its absolutely fine.

I put the blinds up, good job I’d watched the YouTube demo – they’re magnetic and fit each window exactly – the clue is in the labels.  I will say that at this point I am really glad I go to the gym five times a week.  It means I am still flexible and can crawl about the van easily.  I fold down the bed (without trapping my fingers in the mechanism) and put on the lights.  I trot out to the shower / toilet room and clean my teeth.

I’m not a lover of public loos (who is?) but I’m working on it.

My sleeping bag, I find, is not exactly at the luxury end and I make a note to treat myself to an up grade.  Oh – and to get a small electric kettle so that I don’t have to open up the whole van and pull out the gas stove (in my jimmy jams) to make that all important first cup of the day.

I sit regally and read my book, savouring the quiet and the distant sound of the relentless sea.

And I sleep.

This blog is written by Marion, hosted by Carrie