Tesco v the UK Caravanner

Before getting you up to date on the happier events of the summer, let's clear up this horrid, messy business with the hard-faced emporium that is Tesco. The debacle in the store was bad enough. What has followed is alost as bad. It's a text book example of how multinational conglomerates loose the plot. And how the hard-nosed profit-driven upper echalons of the corporate hierarchy hides behind an impenetrable veneer of poorly-paid, mechanical agents who are unable and unwilling to deviate from standard procedure.

I'm sure you don't want to read the email tennis that I played with their customer services department.

In every email I asked the question 'Does Tesco embrace the business of the UK's caravanners, or are caravanners and motor caravanners not welcome in their stores?' In every email, this question was ignored.

I received an apology from the agent with whom I was playing ping-pong, along with the offer of a £20 voucher. Let's just reiterate that I had spent £70 and lost at least £250 worth of productivity.

£20? And no official response to the UK's bona fide touring community? And that's supposed to make it all better?

This is where one silver lining appeared around the cloud. As tempted as I was to tell Tesco to keep their gesture (or words to that effect), I wanted to make sure that someone else would benefit from it. Researching food charities I discovered Foodcycle, a UK charity that ticks all the right boxes. Basically, they take food that would otherwise go to waste, cook it up into nutritious meals, and offer said meals to those who really need them. Preventing waste and feeding those in need. And training/employing those who need a skill. What's not to like? So happily the £20 went directly to Foodcycle. And I feel that this is by no means the end of my dealings with them. 

In my penultimate, exasperated email to Tesco, I asked why I was not getting an answer from the management about the needs of the UK's caravanners.

The answer I received just about sums it all up. It sums up why Tesco is sliding down the supermarket ratings. It also sums up the desperately broken culture of Tesco management that was clear from the very beginning when the store manager was 'too busy' on a conference call with head office to face me there and then and nip the whole thing in the bud.

'Our head office is not customer-facing' explained the hapless agent.

Think about that for a minute.

'…Not customer-facing'

I think, Tesco, as I happily contribute to your slow demise by withholding all future custom, that that is abundantly clear.

We interrupt this blog....

OK folks, I know that I am still dreadfully behind with my blog. Four months to be precise. This is what happens when work gets in the way.

There are some magical experiences to tell you about yet (yes, they of course involve the Outer Hebrides) but I interrupt the timeline to recount a distressing tale that happened to me yesterday.

In fact, what I will do is simply copy for you the letter that I emailed to Tesco this morning. I have wasted so much energy and lost so much productivity over this... but hopefully things will improve soon. Happy reading, and I'll leave it to you to decide where you are going to spend your grocery money after this:

I am writing to you having been humiliated and evicted from your Eastbourne Store.

As a busy journalist, and in order to cut unnecessary CO2 emissions, I combine journeys wherever I can in order to maximise my time, and to maximise use of the car.

Currently I am working on a commission to produce an inspirational feature about Brighton, which involves me staying at nearby places in order to competently review the campsite options for readers.

On Tuesday 17^th July, my route took me through Eastbourne. I decided to pay a visit to your store en route in order to stock up on many items. As I had my Airstream travel trailer in tow, I naturally took the quietest, most remote area of the car park in order not to inconvenience anybody. I also chose my time wisely – it was midday on a Tuesday, not a busy period.

In addition to not wishing to waste any productive time, I was also making haste as road closures in Eastbourne were imminent for the Olympic Torch, and I wanted to be sure of being away from the town before these took effect.

As I was paying for my £70 worth of groceries at 12.55pm, a call was put out over the store’s PA system paging me as the owner of my vehicle.

After wasting a few minutes queuing at Customer Services, the lady behind the desk said that she knew not why I had been called, and I should go and see the gentleman at the security podium.

I approached the gentleman with my trolley full of paid-for shopping in its bags, and asked if he had called me. His reply, in a most abrupt manner, was:

‘Yes. I must ask you to leave. You are parked on private property.’

I was taken aback as you can imagine. I asked why I was being asked to leave and why no other shopper was being asked to leave.

 ‘You are taking up too many parking spaces. And you are blocking the recycling area’ he replied in a most surly tone.

I pointed out that I was certainly not blocking the recycling area, and that I had deliberately chosen a quiet area in the car park so as to not inconvenience other customers.

Rather incredulously, the security guard then asked why I was parked there.

I gesticulated at the trolley full of purchases and said, trying desperately not to sound ironic, that I was visiting Tesco to do my shopping.

‘Well, we’ve had problems with caravans before. They say that they are here to do their shopping but they just stay all day causing us problems.’

By now I realised that I was getting nowhere in this ridiculous conversation and asked to see the store manager. The security guard wandered off, and came back about a minute later to tell me that the store manager was on a conference call for the next 30 minutes, and I would have to wait if I wished to see him. There was no offer of seeing any deputy or supervisor.  I was not prepared to waste a further thirty minutes of my time waiting to see the store manager who was obviously too busy running his store to speak with the customers for whom it actually operates. I also needed to be away before the road closures mentioned previously came into place.

As you may well imagine, by now I was absolutely seething with anger and frustration. I informed the security guard that I am a journalist who is (in the main) highly thought of by the majority of the UK’s one million plus caravanners, and that I would be taking this matter further.

‘Yeah, do that,’ he taunted in a mocking tone as I left the store. Throughout the exchange, a silent colleague of his stood looking on, smirking with his arms folded.

I completely understand that a modern supermarket needs to ensure that parking rules are respected in order to make spaces available for its customers. This is why I chose a quiet time to visit. I did not want to make a 25 mile round trip to do my shopping after having sited the Airstream when plenty of parking space was available.

I also understand that itinerant travellers (as opposed to the millions of leisure caravanners) may have caused problems in the past and as such you would like to be sure that any visitors are there for genuine reasons. If your staff did have cause for concern, then surely the fact that I had a trolley full of purchases a mere 55 minutes after arriving should have been reassuring enough. I don’t have a problem with being called in order to allay any concerns of the staff. Were I dealt with in a friendly and respectful manner, I would have very quickly assured your staff that I understood their concerns, I was indeed a genuine customer, and I would be away within the following ten minutes.

As for ‘Having had trouble with caravans’ in the past, the security guard was referring to overstaying the permitted time. As I have already mentioned, I had only been there for 55 minutes. Yet I was treated with contempt as if I had already committed some kind of breach of regulations or decency.

If the profile of the average shoplifter is a white 23 year old male, would Tesco then treat all white 23 year old male shoppers as criminals?

This incident has left me incensed. In order to write and therefore make a living, I need a clear and creative mind. So far I have lost over a day’s productivity at a personal cost of £250 as I am so upset and angry about what has happened, not to mention the utter humiliation at the way I was treated. Now I am spending my time writing you this missive while I should be writing revenue-earning copy.

Naturally, I will no longer patronise your stores of any brand. I have deleted the Clubcard and Tesco Finder apps from my iPhone and I am making steps to change network provider away from Tesco Mobile.

What disappoints me even more is that I have on more than one occasion in touring media extolled the virtues of stopping off at supermarkets during quiet periods as an alternative to overpriced service areas, in order to take advantage of the café and fuel stations offered.

If Tesco does not want the business of the UK’s caravanners and motor caravanners, do please let me know. I will then communicate this to the one million members of the Caravan Club for whom I write and blog so that they may direct their portion of the £6bn per year that caravanners contribute to the UK economy accordingly.

 Here is an image of the ‘offending’ rig in the car park. I am sure that your own CCTV footage will satisfy you that the rig has not been moved for the photograph, and that this image has not been manipulated in any way. 

Dougal's Dog Blog

While at Alderstead at the end of February I popped down to East Grinstead to see the lovely people at the Caravan Club. While chatting we discussed the Club's new online social network, 'Club Together'. Later on, I introduced a few people to Dougal the dog who had been waiting patiently in the car.

A lightbulb popped up in the room. A fantastic idea spread around the room like a lightning strike. What about Dougal's Dog Blog, writing about the dog facilities at the sites that we visit? After all, one of the caravanning's principle attractions is the fact that dog owners can easily take the most important member of the family away with them simply and cheaply.

Excited and animated, Dougal's Dog Blog hit the internet that very night. It's proving to be a popular contribution to the Caravan Club's 'Club Together' network.

Three months after his arrival, my dog is becoming better known on the caravanning scene than me. Huh.

Excel-lent!

February brought the big caravan and motorhome show at Excel in London. Highlight was the Caravan Writer's Guild Dinner during a Thames Cruise; a wonderful reminder of what lovely people populate the caravan industry.

Stars of the show in my eyes were naturally the Series 2 Airstream 685 and the 534, but also Lunar's new lightweight Venus range of caravans, and Bailey's Orion Evo. Venus is ridiculously cute, and it's great to see some 'proper' lightweight caravans. Likewise it was interesting to see how Bailey managed to shave 100kg off the Orion by omitting services that only a few caravanners actually use. The silver exterior was great, and I understand why Bailey chose to remain with the established Orion interior. But I *do* wish that mainstream manufacturers would bring out something a little more colourful and contemporary, even if as a limited edition. Still no-one has filled the gap created in the touring caravan market after ABI's exit in 2001, although Adria's Action came close.

After Excel, it was a jaunt to one of my favourite sites, Alderstead Heath. Dougal the dog's arrival has added a new angle to my travels, and now I look at the dog-friendliness of sites along with everything else. I used to like Alderstead a lot. Now I absolutely love it. Fantastic walks for the dog, right from the site entrance. Brilliant.

Baptism of Snow - February 2012

Once Dougal had finished delighting the staff of the Ibis Gloucester, we went to collect the Airstream from its service at Airstream and Co's Southern Depot.

First port of call at one of my favourite cities in the UK, was Cambridge Cherry Hinton Caravan Club Site.  Why Cambridge? Simply because I really like it. My good friend Mr Perks lives there, so the plan was to spend an evening relaxing in a welcoming hostelry and possibly spend a day or two out and about getting some snaps. Which is exactly what we did!

Ah yes, the snow. It got cold. REALLY cold. But thankfully the Airstream remained toasty warm throughout.

Next stop, a regular haunt of mine, was Commons Wood Caravan Club Site at Welwyn Garden City. Still the snow fell.

This stay was supposed to dovetail into the Caravan Show at Excel in London. But the on-site campsite was cancelled. causing me my first 'doggy responsibility' reality check. Could I have camped on site at the show, I could have left Dougal in the Airstream for a couple of hours at a time and gone back frequently and seen him. But now I had to camp off-site, it meant that I had to stay near someone I could trust to take care of the dog while I spent all day at the show. Therefore we went down to Rye, East Sussex, where my very dear friend T could have Dougal while I went gallivanting off up to London. An added bonus was that Airstreamers D & J were on the same CL.

It's at this point I want to go off a little on a tangent about CLs and CSs. For the uninitiated, they are Certificated Locations (Caravan Club) or Certificated Sites (Camping & Caravan Club), basically the same thing but different acronyms for different clubs. They are informal, part-licenced sites for up to five caravans apiece.

Every other caravanner seems to be able to find the 'Perfect CL.' You know, where they are parked up in a delightful spot with a stunning view and the cheery rosy-cheeked farmer's wife lays on gifts of fresh eggs and home made jam, all for something ridiculous like 25 pence a night.

Me? I am the world's worst CL finder. If there is a rubbish CL in an area, it's pretty much guaranteed that I will find it. So, if you want to be up to your wheel arches in slurry next to an industrial estate on the land of the grumpiest grumpster in the county, come with me.

Or, as was the case this time, wedged in a yard between a tractor and a skip for the princely sum of £15 per night:

Not the best pitch I've ever had. Especially when Commons Wood was a tenner a night the previous week. Hey-ho, such is the price of dog ownership. But I did get to spend time with some lovely people, which of course is priceless.

Dominoes and dog-friendly accommodation

Life would have been so much simpler had the Airstream been on hand while I moved out of my house. But it wasn't. It was in Gloucester. Despite the fact it was all serviced and ready for me to collect, I simply couldn't afford the three days it would have taken to go pick it up. As it was, I ended up with long days and little sleep the week I had to leave the house.

After a week or two holed up at the parents' surrounded by boxes of rubbish, at last it was time to take a couple of weeks out and start establishing my new life in the Airstream. Only start, as I had a three-week trip to the Hebrides planned in March, and having been blown off the beach at Baleshare the previous October and going four days without sleep, I was doing it in hotels and cottages this time.

To complicate matters, it's not just me decluttering my life. A knock-on effect is that I'm helping my parents get rid of some stuff to, in order to make room for the little bit of stuff that I'll be keeping at theirs. It's a kind of domino effect.

They had boxes and boxes of vinyl records to get rid of. And fortunately I found them a good home with my good buddy Mat who was nothing short of delighted to receive them. But it meant I'd have to fill my car with records when going to get the Airstream, as Mat would meet me in Gloucester to collect them. So I could only take the bare minimum of stuff for my fortnight away in the Airstream. Which was completely empty and had nothing in it as I'd removed the stuff prior to the service to do the Dunster House Concordia project the previous November.

UGH!

Have you any idea how much space a double duvet takes up in a car? Or a rat cage? Or a dog crate?

But it was lovely to see Mat, albeit briefly, and we had a nice evening in Gloucester.

Dougal the Dog is a new addition in my life, so now when I stay in hotels I need somewhere that is dog-friendly. But I also want somewhere affordable, clean, and comfortable.

Premier Inn? Forget it, they don't allow dogs. Travelodge? Well, they take dogs, but at a charge of £20. That can be more than the room.

So thank goodness for the Accor Group, better know by its hotel brands of Ibis, Novotel, and Mercure. Many of their hotels allow dogs, and the Ibis doesn't even make a charge.

Mat and I were both delighted with the Ibis Gloucester. Clean, smart, modern, comfortable, reasonably-priced, and wonderfully friendly staff. We were so impressed and comfortable their we even ended up eating in the hotel restaurant.

Natually it's a lot more spendy, and less convenient than staying in a caravan. Lots of trips to and fro the room unpacking and re-loading the car the next day. But when needs must, Ibis definitely gets the thumbs-up.

Fulltiming - A slow start

With the door finally shut on my bricks-and-mortar existence, the move to becoming a full-timing Airstreamer was a slow, staggered one. In fact, it is still very much a work in progress.

I recently met up with a couple of dear fulltiming friends, J&C, who decided 15 years ago to sell-up and live out their retirement on the road. It's always a pleasure to spend time in the company of such lovely and like-minded folk.

More than once at the previous UKAirstreamers' Gathering had I heard the comment 'So you're settled into fulltiming now.' Funnily enough, that comment was repeated only by people who weren't actually doing it themselves. Those who were living in their Airstreams made no such well-intentioned comment.

There are some people who seem to be able to just be able to do things straight away. You know the kind, they make a plan then just go off and do it, while everything seems to fall magically into place. If they go off on a trip, they can pack their bags in five minutes and be out of the door.

I, I'm afraid, am not one of those people. Even a simple day trip seems to take hours of planning and preparation. 'Have I got my camera? Are the batteries charged? Oh no, it looks like I need to charge the battery. What about my phone? Oh yes, that needs plugging in too. Dog stuff? Ah yes, the poo bags, the kitchen roll and antiseptic wipes in case of accidents in inappropriate places, the water bowl, the travel towel, the lead… I must remember my train pass. And my wallet. And a water bottle. And a flask. And a bag of treats for the dog. Will we be out long enough I need to take the dog's dinner too? And some snacks for me in case there's no cafe on the way. Not forgetting of course the laptop or iPad. And the internet dongle. And the charger lead. Phone charger! Have I fed the rats…?' And so on, and so on.

Such activity can be surmised as the art of faffing. And my goodness, I can faff. I can faff for England. Some people are slick, but I faff.

When slick people start their full-timing lives, I envisage that they lock the doors of their homes, drop the keys at the estate agents, hitch up their Airstream. and off they drive into their new lives with barely a passing thought to their previous existence. How I wish I could be like that. But I'm not.

It turns out that J&C had two years (two years!) living in a static caravan getting themselves prepared and set-up for their life on the road. I didn't feel so bad about the fact that, three months into my new life, I still felt in a complete state of turmoil.

Not emotional turmoil I hasten to add. Almost four months down the line since giving up my house I'm still 100% content and confident that this is the right thing for me to do. But there is still quite a lot of STUFF to sort out. Stuff...that tedious, heavy, dragging anchor of material possessions that is slowly dwindling, but doesn't magically evaporate when you hit the road. Granted, I could just take three months out and deal with it. But what a waste of springtime. And a man needs to work of course. I still need food on my plate and diesel in the truck.

It was early February that I moved out of my house and into the Airstream. In just over three months I'd say that I'm well over half way there. But I reckon it will be February next year at the earliest that I'll be settled into it with something approaching the kind of slick minimalism for which I ache and yearn.

It's a slow process if you have a life to lead while you're doing it. It took 25 years to build up the amount of stuff that I need to deal with. To have it sorted in a little over 12 months is actually pretty good going when you look at it that way.