The daffodils in the garden bravely lifting their heads towards the first twinkling of sunshine meant that at last, spring was on its way.  It was time to dust off the cobwebs and prepare the caravan for the upcoming camping trips I’d eagerly been planning for this year’s camping season.

There was a long, slow creak as I opened the door of the caravan, which had become stiff from not being in use over the winter months.  An overbearing musty smell hit me as I climbed up through the doorway, but despite having to hold my nose to overcome it, surprisingly everything looked pretty much in ship shape condition at first glance, looking at the inside.  There would probably be some moth-eaten furnishings and the odd ball of tumbleweed, but I’d come prepared, armed with a broomstick and a spray can of Febreze, and within a few ninja flashes, I expected to be able to get it all ready, spick and span, and fit for a Camping Ninja. 

I was making ninja-quick cleaning progress, until I pulled down the top section of the sofa seat to check that the bed hadn’t been nibbled at by any mice.  Urrrrrrrgh!!!  I jumped back startled, unsure of what it was that I’d seen, and gazed with my eyes wide open at what looked like a large tuft of Yeti fur on the bed.    

Who had been in my caravan?  What’s more, who had been sleeping in my bed?!

It was beginning to feel like the tale of Goldilocks and the three bears, except I wouldn’t describe my hair as being gold locks, and if there had been Yeti’s in here; I really hoped that it had only been one and not three of them.  That would be really bad news. 

I started the process of Yeti tracking through the caravan.  There was so much fur that it did cross my mind that perhaps it wasn’t a Yeti after all, and that maybe there had been a Bigfoot taking over my bed instead.  Oh great, a squatter, I thought.  Whatever it was, I’d probably never be able to get rid of them now, I pondered solemnly, as I walked around the caravan picking up the odd, random pieces of fur lying around. 

I was almost ready to accept fate and go back into the house, leaving my dusty old caravan for the mysterious, molting furry creature to live in in peace.  When, with a handful of fur, I opened up one of the caravan cupboards hoping to find a rubbish bag, and instead found a pair of my old fur-lined ninja Ugg boots.  Oh, I gasped, as I put two and two together in my mind.  All those suspicious pieces of fur were from me, from my boots when I wore them in the caravan last camping season.  I was the phantom Yeti! 

Oh well.  All’s well that ends well, as they say.  But I did feel a bit embarrassed about blaming the imaginary Yeti.  Oops.