Untitled - Beeldbibliotheek

22 CARAVAN DAYSalmost leathery slab. One is dour and slow tocook, the other active and responsive. Whilethe potato must be goaded and pushed forward,the egg must be retarded and held back.Perhaps the hour or two before supper, on anight when I have a big campaign on hand, isthe time that I recall most gratefully in the cycleof the caravanner's day.The period of preparation,cutting up, mixing, peeling, buttering,blending is well over and everything is under way,each member with its proper handicap, so that allwill reach the post together. Delicious hiddenprocesses are going forward in the oven, simmeringpots crowd the top of the stove. Only the pancakesremain for a final spurt on the Primusstove when the table is alreadyset. There isplenty of quiet occupation in stirring, flavouring,peering into the oven, lifting a lid now and then,moving a pot from one station to another. Thefront of the van isopen and I have ample timeto contemplate the traffic of the stackyard in thetwilight,to watch Herbert putting up his tent,or exchange a few words with a passing ploughman.And before the final rite of dishing up Ispend hilarious minutes, with gloved hands andfrying-pan, tossing pancakes, slithering them toand fro, rolling and punching and building them