Ever since forever, I have struggled with motion sickness. As a kid, swings made my stomach churn, roundabouts made my head spin and slides made me nauseous. I can remember throwing up all over Grandpa's brand new car because Dad was driving us through the winding lanes of Cornwall quicker than I would have liked. I've even felt carsick as an adult - as the driver. I can't face backwards on trains or buses without getting a fuzzy head, and as for boats...
I am the only person I know who has had a hideous experience at the Great Barrier Reef. I've never been good on anything floating but when I arrived at Airlie Beach (in 1999 - so long ago!) the sea had been as smooth as glass for over two weeks and, somehow, I was persuaded to spend a lot of money on a three-day boat trip to the Whitsunday Islands.
I think I enjoyed the first two hours.
Yup. A freak storm. Five metre high waves. Of course, I suffered before anyone else did (I'm the human-seafaring version of a canary in a coalmine). Being sick up a snorkel isn't fun. I remember commandeering the Captain's hammock as it was the one bit of the boat that didn't move too much. I vaguely recall seeing a mother humpback whale and her calf breaching as I puked over the side. The storm is a total blur. And the worst bit? Sailing back to the mainland in perfect calm and feeling 'landsick' for another three days after I got off that damn boat.
So why am I thinking about boats and travel sickness and swings and roundabouts?
When I lived in Princess Pea, I wrote a blog post about the wind and how it shook the caravan and disturbed my sleep. The thing is, the horsebox is so much worse than the Pea. For a start, it's not as sheltered. It's there, bold as brass, at the top of a big hill, wide-side on to the wind. And it's at least three times bigger than the caravan. More to aim at. And it's taller. With better suspension. And a massive awning attached to it that acts like a huge sail.
So far, the wind has been moderate. I've been woken up a few times by twenty mile an hour gusts, and I've spent evenings feeling a bit fuzzy (no, not because of the winE, because of the winD) especially at night. The bed is raised above the cab of the horsebox. As a result of this, it moves more than other parts of the truck.
As I write, nothing is moving. It's as calm as calm can be. Too calm. Why? Take a look at the forecast for tomorrow (look at the gusts, they're the bad boys):
I'm now in the proverbial calm before the storm (these sayings don't come from nothing you know).
1800 hours tomorrow s going to be interesting.
I might have to take a bucket to bed with me. Wish me luck!