So, we bought a Motorhome. A compact, pre-loved and very delightful Knaus Sport Traveller. And in doing so, became Knumpties. With Knaus! (Geddit?) And you already know us. We infuriate you as we trundle from place to place, with our over-wide bulk rolling from side to side, more often than not at a pace annoyingly just below the speed-limit you’re desperately trying to break. We impede your hurried progress; we saunter; we slow – right – down – going – up – steep – hills . . . then, maddeningly, (because we weigh over three tonnes) we gain momentum on the downward slope and speed up – so you STILL can’t get past us. We stare over hedge tops (because we can); we smirk smugly at lowly Caravanners (labelling them “Tuggers”, just for the fun of it) and we brew tea wherever we stop, shunning the expense of roadside cafes and motorway service stations (unless of course it’s Tebay or Gloucester, obvs!) We also get into scrapes. Our acquaintances with dry-stone walls; tree-trunks; narky farmers; frightened L drivers; black-ice; aged car-drivers unwilling to reverse; grown men at the wheel of brand-new, bright metallic-orange pick-up trucks paralysed with fear at the prospect of scratching their flared wheel-arches (you know who you are); sat-nav induced wrong-turnings and . . . well, yes, on a couple of occasions, the Police – these have all increased exponentially as we’ve piled on the miles knumptying our way around the British Isles and Europe. Join us. From the comfort of your desk - or lovely armchair.