FOUR WHEELS AND A LEARNING DIFFICULTY AROUND EUROPE

By Belinda Ruggieri

I'm a scatty, untidy, perpetually chaotic 56 year old woman with Non-Verbal Learning Deficit and visual-motor coordination difficulties, so when I told my friends and family I was intending to drive round Europe in a battered old 970 cc mobile home, with manual gears and limited rear vision, on my own, for about 5 months, with no previous experience of this kind of thing at all, there was a chorus of 'How brave. What guts.' Privately, everyone thought I was mad (and decidedly foolhardy and irresponsible, given my problems). Those who were unaware of my LD had visions of me being raped by a lorry driver while parked in a motorway lay-by; friends who knew I could hardly ever find their homes without getting lost, or arriving late and flustered, were appalled at the idea of my taking on such a marathon.

Actually, I did think I was quite brave, because I am my own worst enemy, and I wage daily battle with my clumsiness, deadlines and usually do something daft when feeling pressured: I worried that I might compromise my safety and enjoyment of the trip.

Fortunately, my fears were vastly outweighed by my craving to realise this pipe dream of long standing. (I am a passionate sun-lizard, passionate sight-seer, obsessed by beauty and art; I find the French charming and the Italians adorable. I love the laid back life-style of The Continent, where I lived for 26 years and adore its food and wine).

I reckoned that, by thinking holistically through the project, preparing very carefully for it over two and a half months, I could prepare for most eventualities. Anyway, I'd had a lot of practice dealing with the consequences of my particular form of LD. So, given a rare synchronicity of a £5,000.00 bargain purchase, a hire-purchase agreement and accumulated savings, no professional commitments, two visiting Korean graduates to rent my flat while I was away, I decided to set off, before arthritis, my pension and my apprehensions put paid to my ambition.

First, (I had to get myself some Guardian Angels: the staff in the Technical Department of the Caravan Club (CC) which I joined long before I bought my vehicle; my caravan dealer Davan and the patient, reliable mechanics at my garage, Colingwood, both in Weston-Super-Mare.) Don't even think of embarking on something like this without the backing and advice of the CC and a good dealer and mechanic - your life could depend on it.

I decided on a small, easy-to-handle mobile home which would be able to negotiate the narrowest of streets and parking spots, rather than opting to tow a caravan - they can 'snake' dangerously; my van had manual gears - I could not afford the automatic models, but as its top speed is all of 50 mph, I felt I'd be able to manage, despite normally driving an automatic. (Unfortunately, it shuddered as every juggernaut passed it and behaved like a sailboat, keeling drunkenly sideways or careering towards the nearside shoulder, in high winds in Cornwall and Normandy).

A mobile home blessedly eliminates the need for packing and transporting suitcases;. Everything is at hand and there aren't many places in which kit can get lost. You set your own pace, schedule your day as you please, rest whenever you feel like it. A girl handled my re-directed mail and bills were paid by D.D., giving me a blessed respite from dreaded deskwork.

I planned to travel between 200 and 300 Kms a day, always staying in b and b's for overnight stops, to avoid the loading and unloading of all the paraphanelia stowed on the floor of my tiny van; I also stayed with friends where I could. Once at a chosen site, I stayed put for at least 4 days, basking in the services of those French and Italian sites, with their swimming pools, restaurants, take-aways and shops; in one, coach tours even left from the site and in another there were candle-lit dinners in the
owner's chateau. Another bonus for LD travellers - campsites are not only safe and full of people willing to help you out, they are also the quietest of places to stay in. Loneliness was not an issue for me: I've been single for eleven years and enjoy my own company, even in restaurants; I took along a small library of books, CD's and tapes. Travelling by yourself does throw you on your own resources - but, having NVLD, I also have good communication skills so I make friends easily and have no qualms about asking for help and I speak fluent Italian and adequate French. Solitary travel is ideal for a person with an LD: you can travel at your own pace, set your own agenda and concentrate fully on the driving without the hassle of an impatient and irritable companion, (there is nobody beside you excitedly pointing out something fascinating just as you are trying to negotiate a busy roundabout).

Security, theft and breakdown were not a problem either; I took out every insurance policy and road recovery service I could buy and installed an immobiliser and an alarm on the vehicle. I had a mobile phone and cordless e-mail, large-scale maps, site directories, technical manuals by the dozen and spares of spares of everything from keys to valves.

I'm back now - 7,300 miles later. The van and I are both in one piece, I: elated, more confident and a lot poorer, the van: a little bruised by various gateposts. Everything possible that could go wrong, did; the fridge never worked, my battery died on me at 11p.m. in a deserted car park in the smallest village in Cornwall, the water pump broke in the Perigord, the clutch had to be replaced in mid August in the depths of Tuscany, I got stuck in a car park and had to drive out through a lavender field in the Haute

Provence and I barely managed to keep the

van on the road in high winds in Normandy and cambered roads in Burgundy. I forgot to pack mosquito netting and had to make my own. I fell in the garage on the ship going out, breaking my laptop, which delayed me for two expensive weeks while I waited for parcel force to deliver a new one - then had to drive flat out to reach Italian pre-booked sites in time; I knocked my electronic diary on to a tiled floor, breaking it irreparably (fortunately, I'd planned for that eventuality). I drove off one day with the awning up and broke its poles; trod on a £200 solar panel and shattered it to smithereens; carefully placed the van keys with the alarm deactivator on them in the washing up water, or left them hanging overnight on the outside of the van in the rain overnight. There were several times when a twenty minute journey took me two hours and one memorable occasion when I filled the van with diesel fuel instead of petrol. But it was the best and happiest holiday I have ever had - and I cannot think why more single people don't do it. It should be compulsory and it can be done by someone with a Learning Difficulty, with a little patience and careful planning.