Last weekend my good friend Martin, henceforth to be known as Ralfie, and I had the good fortune to be whisked away into the quaint and vaguely surreal world of the Funbus.
Inhabited on a more permanent basis by two other friends, to be known as Smithy and Bish, this was an experience that can be likened to a road trip back to the seventies as well as a road trip to Belgium.
Now I'm an avid student of the human condition and I can only infer that Smithy and Bish must have missed out significantly in their youth thereby justifying their enthusiastic embrace of all things that feel as if they should have been left in the mud at a 70s rock festival. As soon as you enter the vehicle, you feel as if you have been issued with rose tinted spectacles that make the world look forever amiable and innocent. Next time I'm expecting to be given a hippy wig and a pair of John Lennon's old glasses.
Newly emblazoned with 'Andy's Luxury Coach Tours' as it's logo the Funbus looked resplendent when it turned up to collect me. With Smithy at the helm it soon reached Warp 1, which in the Funbus world means wafting along at 65 mph.
The bus is not of aerodynamic design being some 9 feet in height and squarish to boot. Indeed, when parked up it is often mistaken by passing children as an ice cream or hot dog van and I'm surprised that the enterprising duo haven't yet developed this theme with the installation of a fridge and a range of mivvis.
The seats are comfortable but vaguely unstable. The decor is luxurious in the sense that my grandma's front room used to be. But overall the bus is functional with a range of 'cons' which were obviously once 'mod' but are now reminiscent of an Ideal Home Exhibition which I visited as a kid.
A smooth transition to the resort of De Panne - last resort is probably more apt - ended with our pitching camp at the luxurious Greenpark site. Well, I always somehow knew that the Belgians as a race were not blessed with classic good looks but even so I was surprised by the ugliness and grotesqueness of most of the inhabitants in the vicinity. Ralfie and I were dispatched to the bar to do battle with the duelling banjo fraternity while Smithy and Bish set to work to make our camp as homely as possible.
Having seen them in action I can now say that I see these two in a wholly new light. Such consummate actors and professionals. One minute they are Fanny & Johnny Craddock, spurring each other on to culinary excess, the next Howard and Hilda enthusing together like a pair of old odd job men about their latest labour saving gadget, the next reverting to Margo and Jerry bickering and squabbling over whose turn it is to wash up. But they did make the Funbus and the adjoining tent as attractive as they could be given that the outside temperature was close to freezing point at times. Even Ralfie, a stickler for an orderly house was impressed.
The ensuing couple of days was spent much as Smithy has already chronicled with the emphasis predominantly on serious alcohol and food intake. Of course, Smithy, ever the trailblazer and experimenter, chose the strongest beer in Belgium for his first tipple resulting in a momentary wobble but we were soon back on track for a protracted session.
As is usual on these jaunts we kept the old grey matter ticking over with feats of memory and general knowledge and we were actually able to get our list of famous Belgians up from three to ten, though I'm doubtful that King Leopold is really a worthy contender. Herman van Rumpoy is surely the name that trips off everybody's lips in this context.
Ralfie managed to keep out of a fight despite being in the minority of Chelsea supporters in the bar where we watched the European Cup Final and being vociferous to say the least.
The other thing to mention, of course, is nocturnal 'goings on'. I'm not talking here of anything other than the innocent - after all we're well past the days of chasing young gals around in the wee small hours. No, snoring, shitting and leaks all had there place. To take the last first, poor old Ralfie, who is the most companiable sleeping partner a man could have, had the misfortune to be leaked on twice, not once. The Funbus does seem to have a problem with it's guttering or lack of it and it always chose to leak on Ralfie's side. Now everybody knows that after sand and Spurs supporters, Ralfie hates a damp bed. He wasn't happy, though that despair soon turned to joy when he found that Bish's new ionic heater would dry his sleeping bag and under crackers in record time.
Second, snoring. Yours truly is renowned for the variety of his nocturnal vibrations, at least in the world of Mrs Jefford, but Ralfie who was closest to me seemed to think that in comparison with Bish I came a very poor second. Having heard him at close hand, I have to agree. Bish is a world class snorer, who, if this were an Olympic sport would undoubtedly take gold for Britain.
Finally, shitting. It's a natural function. We all do it, even on a manky campsite in Flanders field where you have to take your own bog roll with you. What isn't natural, is to get up in the middle of the night in a pouring rainstorm, don your trousers and disappear for a full hour leaving the cosy Funbus warmth. Well that's what Ralfie did. Luckily Jeffrey, ever the concerned friend was worried and went to look for him, only to find him straining over a cold latrine playing Angry Birds on his i-Phone! I know the footie was exciting and the prawns dodgy, but really.
On the way home with S & B still enthusing and planning their next trip to the Vendee surf, I got to wondering how they could expand their empire and perhaps get a fleet of funbuses. They could advertise the whole experience as a tour down hippy lane without the bother of going overland to Afghanistan. Or they could entice young lads and boy scouts to share in their backwoods experience. On second thoughts that would get them arrested. Perhaps they should stick to whisking their 'beautiful ones' off for romantic weekends at obscure muddy pop festivals and their friends for surprise weekends to the continent.
It was great and if I'm ever invited again I'll be there. Next time though, can we get some hash?
No comments:
Post a Comment