We’ve upped sticks and left Claybrooke which now feels like my home, and headed to the Caravan Club site at Warwick racecourse. This is the first journey we’ve made without Chloe and I still found myself listening out for her whinging throughout the journey which was strange. On first impression this seems like a barmy place to stick a load of caravans but it’s peaceful so can’t complain. The neighbours appear to be friendly – 3 of them having said ‘Hi’ already. It appears to be a very busy and popular place and not just full of caravans. I now have 5 days in which to explore Warwick and see what it has to offer. I refuse to pay £30 to get into the castle so cross that off the list straight away. Maybe me and the dogs could do a midnight/moonlit dash around the racecourse naked or then again maybe not.
You know you’re a traveller who gets around a lot when a car pulls up out front and out gets the couple you first met in Bruges and then again at Crystal Palace. This is the great thing about this lifestyle, you don’t live in other peoples pockets but every now and again you’ll meet up with old acquaintances. Of course the fact that most people recognise me by the pink hair/broken window helps I guess. The window will eventually get fixed, the hair will always be a stupid colour so that I’m easy to spot in a crowd/at a gig/on a campsite.