August 2020, Evans Head, NSW – a Saturday

The TV guy quickly repairs El and Elle’s TV problem, it’s only a faulty cable but he gets a surprise when he bounds in the door to find Elle still in bed.
We’ve been lucky to have very few neighbours in this end of the park but today an old Ford Falcon with gaffer taped door handles rolls in with a battered old van in tow. How they’ve evaded the police is a mystery as neither vehicle looks to be roadworthy. We soon learn that they have more mates who have moved into the cabin behind us. In total there are four noisy young blokes, a small boy and a Staffie. Amid much shouting they manage to park the van badly, half on the concrete slab that they shouldn’t be parked on and the van’s dolly wheel bent at an angle. Needless to say, they are drunk. They scatter empty cans about (both vodka and dog food) and shout constantly. One is a booming baritone who loves the sound of his own voice and frankly, rarely shuts up.
To escape the noise we take a drive out to Coraki.
On our return to camp we find the blokes are egging the small boy on as he steals an egg from our nesting plover causing much screeching and swooping. Naturally, we find ourselves barracking for the plovers.
The booze and excitement eventually catches up to them and they crash early giving us a quiet night.
Sunday dawns and our noisy neighbours are still here. We expected them to be weekenders and be packing up by now but no. The campsite is a mess. A heap of half burnt firewood, large plastic drums of what looks like fuel are beside the van. They’re drinking it so we must assume it to be home brew of some sort, empty vodka cans, dog food cans, a large dog bone and clothes. Clothes are strewn inside and hanging out of the caravan door. The loud talking is incessant, and the booming voice just doesn’t stop. There’s constant swearing, spitting and burping. The booming baritone continues to talk even when he’s on the toilet telling all and sundry what he is doing in there. We and our neighbours all complain to the office.
The atmosphere is so bad that we go for yet another drive to get a break from them.
Elle complains to the office for the third time insisting that if ‘the bad neighbours’ don’t leave tomorrow we will.
The dog is on the loose again. The loud talking continues through the night but thankfully our TV and heater drown some of it out and Woody with his recent hearing problem, hears very little, I’m just about going spare. I fall into bed around 10:00 only to be woken at midnight when a woman from across the way comes out shouting at them to stop. Quite cleverly she gives the warning very loudly and in their own foul language. Obviously getting the message they stop. At 4:00am I’m woken again, they’re still at it but this time banging on the cabin walls as well.
Needless to say, I wake on Monday morning with a thumping headache and jangled nerves. These are scary, scary people. They are finally asleep, but the dog is on the loose again and bails Woody up at our door when he goes out to cook breakfast. While chatting with our other neighbours and their dogs (of course on leads) discussing the goings on during the night and of course the virus, said dog bounds over once more. I can see VeeWee’s little poodle Nic quickly becoming breakfast and lose my temper shouting “Get that bloody dog on the lead!” They’re meant to be out by 10:00am but by 11:20 Baritone and the boy are still here. The boy sitting in the clothes strewn van.
By happy hour we don’t want to leave our vans, we speak to the Assistant Manager and he tells us that ‘they’ were asked to leave but Baritone was drunk and they have a duty of care not to ask someone who is drunk to drive. Instead they extended his stay! In frustration we ask to see the manager and are told that he will send him over. Not surprisingly the manager is a ‘no show’. As you can imagine, we’re wondering about the duty of care that should be shown to the customers who’ve been here for three weeks.
By day 4 after a quiet but nervous night we wake to the sounds of dog food cans being kicked around the concrete slab. The mates have returned and they finally manage to start the car, which had a flat battery and use brute force to manhandle the van onto the towball. They leave. No thanks to the park management.

That must be a first in your travels. Hope you don’t meet them again!
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Actually, the second worst. We once thought we would introduce friends to the relaxing caravan lifestyle and to cut a long story short…shots were fired in a drunken brawl. https://itchingforhitching.com/2015/12/15/you-should-try-caravanning/
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Oh my goodness. Not all Good Clean Fun then after all. Still, it all makes for a good story afterwards.
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There are some unbelievable ferals around out there. One does not encounter them often, but when you do, they are not quickly forgotten.
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We can be thankful that it is very rare.
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What a nightmare and what kind of life for a kid!
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Yes, he was the one we felt sorry for.
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How utterly appalling
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Disgusting behaviour and frightening.
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Indeed.
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Such people bring out the worst in me and I start thinking of the best way to dispose of their almost dead bodies!
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My mind was in overdrive with witty comments but they only understood bad language. Our poor tired neighbour got it right by giving them a mouthful of obscenities.
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Perhaps we could devise a termite or fire ant gun!
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😂😂
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Feel so much for you guys what a nightmare. We don’t stay in caravan parks and have people who ask us aren’t we scared being on our own but no we aren’t and thankfully have never had to put up with anything like that.
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We’ve only had 3 nasty experiences and each have been in caravan parks. We mix up where we stay choosing the best option for each location. So we do a lot of free camping though this trip we’ve done more parks than normal and a lot less driving. But hey, this year is different in so many ways.
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