I’D LIKE TO LEAVE THIS CITY, THIS OLD VAN DON’T SMELL TOO PRETTY

For four days and across four states we have been finding every town, city and road smells of shit. I thought we’d happened across a famous American shit-storm I read about on the cover of The National Enquirer A turd tornado. A septic cyclone.

Unfortunately I was wrong. Although the RV has everything we need, stove,, gas hob, generator, propane tank, water heater, kitchen, double sink, shower we have been staying in truck stops, showering every other day and cooking by campfire as we don’t know how to work anything. I’m a writer not a handyman. Ever since I pulled an unlabelled valve under the bus and out came a torrent of brown piss in a Wall Mart car park, said smell has permeated our lives and lungs. It’s like towing one of Glastonbury festival’s cess pit toilets behind us. Smiling faces quickly turn to anger after smelling faeces. Waving hands become fists and stones become projectiles banishing us from bumpkin towns.

We just had jacket potato with cheesey beans again. That should help.

Luckily the smell goes when we stop, else sleeping in our bed would be impossible. Natalie’s taking the RV to the RV centre tomorrow to ask a nice black man to loosen the poo from her pipes.