The caravan of fear
We were 16 years old and had pulled the usual trick in order to stay out all night telling each of our parents that we were staying at a friend's house. We wandered the streets of Letchworth Garden City until the early hours, it was dark and it was getting cold so we looked for a place to stay until the morning brought the warmth and comfort of a cup of tea and a fry-up at the greasy spoon.

We found a caravan in a car park next to some houses presumably one of which housed the owner of said box on wheels. We tried the door, it was unlocked, we entered.

The caravan was fitted at one end with one of those u-shaped benches designed to provide an uncomfortable night's sleep for up to 3 people. There were seven of us. We sat on the bench drinking the rest of our stash of beer.

John was a nervous boy, he was scared of moths. We set about trying to make him wet himself by making up stories of ghosts, vampires, big black dogs with glowing red eyes and immigrants. Pretty soon we had succeeded in scaring ourselves to the point where no one would set foot into the black unknown outside.

Did I mention that we were drinking cans of beer? Cans of beer equals need to piss and our former outside toilet, a hedge, was now mentally out of bounds. An inspection of the caravan with the help of a cigarette lighter revealed that there was no toilet facility however there was a small wardrobe with a sealed bottom that formed a bowl a few inches in height. So we all pissed in that.

When we left in the morning the puddle of piss was just about trickling over the top of the bowl.

Apologies if that was your caravan.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 9:43, Reply)