No.224

CONTINUED FROM DECK~OUT NO.223

We were minding our own business, hanging out the washing when he first collared us. “You call that heap of fibreglass a caravan? Come around here and I’ll show you a real caravan.” He was right, his caravan was indeed a real caravan, but so was ours. “You see this? Some people have wives, some people have dogs, some people have over 300 new-old-stock trainers boxed up in their cellar — I’ve got a caravan. Name any place, name any event — me and the tin lady have been there. The Battle of the Little Bighorn? Bob Dylan at the Free Trade Hall? Mark Owen at the Stretford Arndale? We’ve seen it all. Yep… there’s not one place me and the wagon haven’t been.” Don’t get us wrong, all this was relatively interesting, and who were we to question a man we’d just met five minutes ago about the validity of his bold statements? But there was just one thing that didn’t add up… TO BE CONTINUED