I get anxious about all sorts of things, future things, that grow in my mind like little weed seeds over days or weeks - then I get disproportionately euphoric when a simple squirt of the paraquat of real life comes along and solves them, just like that. Does that make me bipolar or manic/depressive or one of those labels, or maybe just normal? I don't know. Do I care?
Closing down the shiny new caravan for the winter was one of these. Once you grow up, you no longer want to break your shiny new toys, especially as you paid for them yourself. Drainage was the main issue. The old van required me to perform contortions that could easily have become another new Olympic sport (blind unscrewing of drain taps with head below ground level, something like that), and then, when I opened up in the Spring, pipes would have burst anyway. The drain taps on the new one are much more accessible, but carry with them a totally useless set of instructions, which are worth quoting in full: "Remove binding strips. Remove insulation surrounding drain taps. Drain system. Replace insulation in reverse order."
Joseph turned up to collect his rent and electricity bill. "How does this work, then, Joseph?" I asked him. "Well, ignore all that. I usually just take the taps off and leave them inside the van," he told me, and showed me how.
So now, that's all done. The caravan has been drained, cleaned and cocooned until Easter. Midnight, Saturday night, I looked up, at the last time I'll see the Milky Way until April. Still, there are comets coming, apparently. Something to look forward to.