There and Back Again

Tue 28^th

I wake in the middle of the night and listen to the A38. I have to find somewhere that does not make me tune in when I should be asleep. I came home to let go of the meercat mentality. It is ok to be on hyper alert when wildcamping, in fact it is a natural instinct, but here in just outside suburbia, it serves me badly. On saying that, I did sleep eleven hours and feel way better than I have done in ages. The Hobby is in a very slight head down position, which I am very sensitive to and don’t like. I think more than anything this trip has allowed me to acknowledge that I am highly sensitive to many things and being away from stimulation, leading to over stimulation is paramount for my good health.

I have calculated my mileage and finally arriving in Plymouth, I have done 4028 in total. I spend 69 days on the road and although I have not checked exactly, I spent about 20 days static, so managed to not do more than my projected 100 miles a day. I attained one goal at least. I am surprised at the amount none the less.

Andy popped by in the morning and helped me remedy the water pump problem, so now I don’t have to lift the seat and insert the pump electrics to have a shower and rush to pull them out after so the damn thing can turn off. It was as I first thought an air lock problem, but more than I could see on my own, so in true team style Andy fixed it for me all by himself. I gave him coffee, watered down as to be unacceptable to me, but he is happy. I discovered at the party on Sunday that he has only ever accepted coffee at mine as a way of making me not ask every hour ‘Do you want a drink?’ I laughed at the irony as I have always made a special effort to make him nice coffee as I believed he liked it and always made sure I had cake or chocolate in for him. I could have saved a fortune on my beans and wonder why it has taken him a good eight years to tell me.

It’s pouring with rain as I travelled to the moors and look around the site listening intently to the peace and quiet. I think I might like it here, but am concerned as electric is on top of ground rent. I don’t know how much others pay and need to find out, but on first viewing I like it. I have so much scope to exercise myself and Fin its attractive on those grounds alone. It’s been raining and when I get back to the farm it has a small stream running down the road way and I think to myself that if it is like this after one day of rain, what will it be like throughout the winter. Another bonus for the moors, which does not appear to have any of these problems.

Dropping into Cara on the way home she looks better and has successfully passed her cold onto me. I thank her graciously and drop her partner Wes to work. I have taken on a new client today and life seems to have fallen into a rhythm of it’s own quicker than you can say rhythm. I am chuffed to bits though and just know that the next six months will fly and I will be on that ferry bound for France before you can say new rhythm.

Three months ago I started something that I did not think would ever happen. I wanted to let go of a life that had taken control of me and take back something for myself. I had made choices that were wise on so many levels, but they meant that I had let go of some of the things I needed for me to be healthy- physically, emotionally and spiritually. I had narrowed. I have now readdressed that and I know how I need to live to be happy in those areas.

I have been tested beyond what some would consider normal and have been called brave more times than I can shake a hairy stick at, but I do not feel brave. I feel I have risen to a challenge that many women would not even consider with another, never mind on their own. Whenever I was asked was I alone I always responded ‘no, I have my dog’. I believe that without Fin I would have come back after a few weeks as my head is always noisy and it gets in the way. It’s something I will look into while I am still for a while. Having him to talk to helped me get through the tough bits. I have cried deeply and laughed loudly, I had lost my sense of humour somewhere along the way before I left and then found it again in Scotland. I refuse to send it back and think I shall hold onto it carefully from now on. I have got my silly sense of fun back too and want to cultivate that for sure, it makes me smile all the way through.

I missed those I love, some more than others and I have been able to look at my relationships with new eyes. I am blessed by loving and being loved by so many, young and old. I have refreshed my friendships and developed them to new deeper levels and I am just so glad I called and made contact with those I had lost contact with. I have been surprised by the returns on those calls and am overjoyed at having open doors back to them whenever I want them. I am also joyful in having new folks to call friends

I am grateful for all those who have followed me on this trip and appreciate the support. Without knowing that someone somewhere was at least reading what I was doing, it may have felt like I was just mad to be stuck up a mountain in the pouring rain not being able to see the midge in front of my face.

I have never felt scared, but occasionally felt vulnerable, but actually embraced that vulnerability as part of the journey and it helped develop me. I believe I am harsher in some ways, but much more soft in others, so I am balanced at least. I suppose it will take a while to lose the harshness, but I never want to lose the softness as it has taken me all of this life so far to get to this point and I like it.

So my friends. I cannot tell you what it has cost me financially, nor do I want to know, so have not kept receipts. I know what it has cost me emotionally and boy do I know what it has cost physically, but am booked in at my osteopath and masseuse, so it should all settle into place soon enough.

I look forward to writing this up more extensively as I have kept notes in my journal and can combine them, then it is part two in the spring. Before France I will have all the bits that broke, fell off, got rolled over, or damaged fixed up and repaired. I will not take things I did not use and will purchase things I wish I had taken with me. I know what food I like to eat on the road and will get more of that and surprisingly will enjoy the chocolate I did not eat in the winter months. I will of course stock up on coffee beans to take and get a camera and digital recorder.

Fin and I will be fitter and more prepared for France than we were for this trip and will have had a winter to hunker down and keep warm, before we attempt to travel into the Massif Central ski resorts.

Andy asked me what I would change on the Hobby. Surprisingly not much. I would have a rear wheel pusher instead of front wheel drive, better clips on the blinds, I have already changed the sliders on the shower curtain for smoother action, the locks on the cupboards annoy me as they pop in and I have to pull them out with a teaspoon handle and instructions in English instead of German. I love love love my Hobby!

See you in the Spring…lots of love xx

Back Home??

Sat 25^th

I leave Leanda with a hug and full tummy. I am sure this woman is trying to kill me with a death by food strategy. She is just tuned into feed all the open mouths like a mother starling. I suppose its my own fault for having my mouth open so much!

I drive out of her village with a wave and get to Cribbs causeway a little while later to discover someone has moved Ikea. I am mistaken, it was never there my big brother snorts at me. Cheers Bros. I turn on my sat nav on my phone and get taken on a right old tour of run down Bristol. I can get lost all by myself I don’t need a sat nav to do it for me. This is exactly why I don’t like them. Eventually I find it and after a crazy hour trying to figure it out, find that they don’t have what I came for. I was recommended to go by the folks I bought the Hobby from, but perhaps the Ikea oop North does better than this one. I get back on board and make my way to Plymouth. I have to stop at a house I rent out to turn on the heating, but when I get there the tenant is not in, so wait for them to arrive and have tea with my favourite elderly couple Cliff and June or Mumsie as she has become. I was adopted by them when I lived in the house and they have been dear friends ever since. I can hardly string things together though as I am just too tired and after I show the tenant how to get the boiler running I leave with promised to be back to check things out next week.

AS I approach the site I have booked it is dark and I have to try and find a flatish pitch on my own and get the hook up working. I so could do with that blow up bloke now, I chunter to myself. I kind of get the Hobby into position under an apple tree, chocking the wheels and get myself plugged in. After a while the alarm goes off and I am perplexed as to what I am doing wrong and close to tears I phone Andy and wimper. I have forgotten all things normal and haven’t switched the electrics from Solar to Hook up…Dopey! Thanks Andy, ever my saviour.

I get a cup of tea and flop into bed, which is slightly listing, but ok enough for tonight.

Sun 26^th

I have a look to see if there is a better pitch in the morning and get chatting to one of my neighbours. AS we are talking a van leaves and I grab it’s pitch which is on a gravel hard stand. Ducks scurry by and I smile to myself as Fin has not taken any notice and he wonders over to me covered in something green and sticky. As if I haven’t enough to do I now have to stop everything to wash him under a very cold tap. He was due a bath sometime soon anyway and I laugh as he does his usual running in circles like a mad thing. He never ceases to bring my spirit up.

I potter around and wait for my Mum to give me a lift to what, until 3 months ago I referred to as ‘home’. Ebony has invited the world and I am a little overwhelmed, but do a good job of bumping my gums all evening in spite of it. It’s lovely seeing all my specials in one space, but I am happy to leave and get my little micra loaded with things to take to the Hobby and feel a little flattened to see no petrol in the tank. I just don’t have the energy at this point to get fuel and drive to the site again in the dark. I feel spacey and want to be here, but don’t want to be here. I forgot about the road works and have to go the long way. I feel anger rising and chastise myself noting that it is me that has changed and to get upset because nothing else has, is dumb and a waste of what little energy I have.

I realise as I step on board just how squint the vehicle is at the back, but again flop into bed and think about sorting it out tomorrow.

Mon 27^th

I wish I had placed the chocks under the wheels last night. I had a slightly head down experience and got a headache in the night. I propped myself up on pillows and listened to the drone of the A38 in the background. Note to self, get to the moors girl!

Even though I didn’t like the position I had a lie in and listen to my neighbour who is kick starting her lungs with a fag and a good cough. Eventually I get up as I have a coffee date with my good friend Les a fellow coach. I meet him in my favourite Bistro in Stoke village and buy some coffee beans. Oh happy days! We have some food and a couple of cups of the finest and tell our stories to each other. I am excited by his news and come away feeling good about being here, for now.

I leave there and drive to Cara and her babylump. Poor lil’ girl has a horrid cold and lies on the sofa forlorn. This is why I have come home and we spend some nice time together. I file her fingernails and make us dinner and smooth her bloomin’ big belly and watch my soon to be grandchild wiggling. I love it.

I have a facebook chat with Tandy who is married to Joe and she tells me all about the hotel in the Massif Central which is already freezing and is busy being worked on for the ski season. I am so elated and make plans with her to visit for my birthday in April. Yippee, I shall ski for my birthday and I set a goal. I also speak with Grae and agree to visit the site on the moors tomorrow and make plans there too. Then I make a lunch date for Wednesday in a marina and I am a happy bunny and being here isn’t so bad after all. What a great day.

I get back to site in the dark, hmm, this is becoming a habit! I forgot to chock up before I went as I thought I would be back in daylight and attempt to do it now. I am a little zealous with the throttle and roll off the chock and straight onto the wheel that holds the cable for the hook up and break it. Stupid, stupid. Oh well, I think to myself, not all bad, as at least I’m level…………….

Canals and Cycles

Fri 24^th

The day starts with a Facebook chat with Grae who informs me he is on a site on the edge of Dartmoor for less money than I am to pay here. I check out the website and realise that it has more to offer than saving money. As it’s near the moors, Fin would love the walks, it has an old disused aerodrome that would make a good cycle route to improve my fitness and it’s out of Plymouth. I am definitely interested. The only downside I can see is that it is at 500 feet so might (will) be colder than being in Plymouth, which is closer to sea level. I shall have to have a look see and make a decision when I get back.

Leanda has done all the things she needs to do so that we can have a day together. I get my cycle shorts on and get my bicycle ready. Fin’s tail is ever wagging and he knows we are up for some fun and exercise. We put the bicycles on the back of her car and drive a couple of miles down the road to the canal that runs into Bradford on Avon and I have a vibration of anticipation running through me. I have decided that I love the idea of barges, but think I would probably be bored after a month of a live aboard. It’sall straight lines and no sails. As we cycle along I inform Leanda of Fin’s running speed and we keep to a nice steady pace for him and my cycle computer chalks up the mileage. Many boats are moored alongside the canal which is filthy brown and quite unlike the brackish transparency of the Great Glen Canal. I do not notice too much wildlife either. However I am distracted by the amount of water traffic of varying quality and order. Some are painted and look like traditional boats; some list to port, moored alongside and in sad need of love; some obviously house families as baby buggies sit atop; some have piles of wood on the toe path and smoke coming from chimneys. I had expected friendlier faces, but only a few acknowledge my smiles. Perhaps it is the face of the grinning cyclist with a small white pooch sporting a red bandana, looking far too happy to be sane that prevents them smiling back. Perhaps they are just miserable and today is not their day to smile.

Four miles later we walk along the roadside and into the small town. It is very touristy and brimming with small shops, competing for cash. I walk into a small independent book stall with a child’s book I found in the rack outside and make eye contact with the store owner. He is engrossed with his computer and is checking out something for another customer. He grumbles something at me about being busy and I blink, but stay calm and as I want the book, remain in the store. After I stand awhile, a woman walks in and gets served immediately. I look at Leanda and ask her if I am invisible. Life’s too short to let others ignorance rile me, but hey fella, customer service is important at this point in history. It is a lovely little book store, so it is a shame the man is such an arse!

Out of the door I am taken up along a side road and we window shop. I am promised a fine lunch and Leanda is conscious of Fin, so takes me to a tapas bar with outdoor seating. As I enter to get a menu, I ask a young waiter if dog’s are allowed and given an affirmative, bounce outside and tell my friend. We find a window seat and order coffee.

As I look over the menu I realise that I am starving, but not for a large meal, but small meals are not available here. Tapas in the UK are not tapas so I elect for coffee and fabulous carrot cake to share and Leanda suggests fish and chips by the river and ancient barn. Still in pursuit of the best fish and chips I agree and we have our coffee and devour the most splendid carrot cake with a creamy cream cheese on top. Happy tummy time. A colleague of Leanda’s enters the restaurant and she joins us. The young waiter is funny and I like his humour, which is rewarding after the grump in the book store.

We walk to the chippy, sitting on the corner of the street near the car park. Getting our bicycles, we walk to the barn that sits in a courtyard of shops near the river and I have to admit I think I have found the winner of the fish and chip award. I had suggested to Leanda that we share a portion after eating cake, but she gets us one each and I just accept my friend’s generosity without complaint. Opening the box, a beautifully crisp, battered fish and just the right thickness of golden chips waft their freshly fried smell up at me. I pour my mayonnaise over them and dig in. I can stop now. I never have to eat fish and chips ever again, my quest is over. Hmmm…. Jakes cheesy chips are not the same as fish and chips are they?

I am stuffed way before I finish the meal and Fin gets to share the fish with me. He is of course happy to oblige. I have made myself sound like a fish and chip monster, but truly I am not. I worked in a chippy as a kid, as I remind Leanda. She worked in the fruit store where we grew up and we were envied by our peers as both of us had the highest wages around for Saturday jobs. I hated the way I used to smell after a shift, getting on the last bus home stinking of chip fat. I probably would not have cared but as a shy with lads sixteen year old, I got on the same bus as the young matelots who had to be in camp before midnight curfew at the local navy gunnery school. ‘Ello darlin’, cor you smell nice, I could eat you up!....’ In my adult life I have not really enjoyed a trad Friday night supper, because of it.

The Avon, where we sat to eat, has a little ancient bridge crossing it and has water birds swimming along. It is very pretty and I feel very glad that I stayed another day and give a verbal appreciation to Leanda, thanking her for wanting me to stay another day. After, we walk into the courtyard that surrounds the ancient threshing barn. The shops don’t sell anything I couldn’t buy elsewhere, but a mooch with a friend is always better than a mooch alone and we enjoy ourselves and Fin makes friends with the shopkeepers. In the barn I am impressed. It is an English Heritage building dated 14thC and in pristine condition, the massive ancient oak beams supporting a very interesting roof structure. A sign board informs us that the beams are not all in one piece and explain about the shortage of wood and clever use of using more than one piece in a strut. I vocalise to my friend that is so nice to see a heritage site that is not being charged for. I love it.

Back to the canal and back to Leanda’s reality. It has been a pleasant day and spending time with my old friend and her boys is easy. I’m glad I stayed.

Back at home her boys come home from school and chaos reigns as usual. The boys are nice lads and ranging in age from 15 to 9. They cope with my teasing and smile at me, joining in the banter. We watch a movie with them that is way too old for them, full of adult content that I feel could wait a couple of years, but they laugh their heads off at it and they are not mine, so I stay quiet, well, apart from guffawing at the funny bits!

The day is over all too soon and I settle in for another night in the car park, feeling mildly anxious about the next day and what may be to come. Going home. I wonder if it will feel like home or just another place to rock up to, before moving on. I phone the farmer I have booked with and confirm that I am to arrive tomorrow and get some shut eye.

The Road Home

Wed 22^nd

I set my alarm last night so that I could get up and say goodbye to Claire’s boys, so start the day earlier than in a while. I have not slept well, but wave them off and then wait for Claire to leave for work and hug her goodbye, with the promise of meeting at the weekend. Lying in a hot bath I plan what I have to do in the next few days and get my head ready for the journey home. After I leave Wokingham I drive the M4 and make my way to Carole and Ian’s in Foxham. I am so happy to be back here and get the Hobby into position by the canal at the end of their garden, by driving through their neighbour’s garden.

I have a cup of tea with Carole while we wait for Ian and the girls to come home and catch up. After a walk in the locale, which entails climbing a hill, straddling gates and being stunned by a view over Wiltshire towards Bristol, we walk along the canal that was just a ditch when they arrived. Ian basically dug it out and after the lock was built by the preservation society, it filled up naturally with water and then ducks arrived. It’s amazing what can be achieved in ten years. Carole and Ian are hippies at heart and live a lovely life in the country when not saving lives.

I told some of my story and a goblet of wine appears by my side. Inwardly I groaned a little, but wanting to have a small drink I accept. I tell my story in accents appropriate to the region I am talking about and the room fills with laughter. I used to have a meal with my girls when they were little in an accent and make the girls try it out. Ian’s girls love it and over dinner requests are made for more stories. The goblet is a magical one that fills itself once it starts to empty. Ian was sat next to me and I was not fully aware of the filling and God only knows how much I actually consumed, but at some point found myself quite squiffy and moved the glass away. I had a great evening and loads of fun was had by the company. After the girls went to bed we carried on chatting and eventually I realised that I had sat on hard kitchen chairs since arriving and listened to my body begging to lie on something soft, so went to bed, escorted to the door by torchlight and my old friend. We stood by the door of the Hobby looking at the very nearly full moon and I told him about Deb’s i-phone ap.

After taking his leave I climb gratefully into bed and ignore my screaming neck and shoulders. I know it is going to rain as my body is an accurate barometer. About half an hour later it pours and rains throughout the night.

Thur 23^rd

I sleep very badly and at half seven get up to say goodbye to the girls and get hugged warmly. I am touched. These young women hardly know me and yet we are already old friends. They are lovely and I have enjoyed them immensely. Ian has a boys drinking day organised, so leaves soon after themto catch a train and we hug goodbye with promises to not leave it so long. I hope not.

While Carole drives him to the station I have the luxury of wallowing in their enormous double ended caste iron bath. I remember when they had it fitted, reinforcing the floor in the most serious fashion to accommodate the weight. What a luxury after so many weeks with what has ranged from a wet wipe to a shower to have two days of wallowing in hot water. It does something to restore my back. While I am there I text my osteopath and make an appointment to see him next week for a much needed beasting.

Carole and I spend some time over lunch before I leave and cross the tiny bridge again to move onto Hinton Charterhouse where Leanda has just got back from shopping for the whole world. The journey in between is short, but I always love the pale sandstone brick buildings in that area of Wiltshire and enjoy the road.

I am shattered and feel as if I am working at 30%. All I really want to do is lie down and nap, but keep my old school friend company for the afternoon and we catch up with what we have been up to.

Leanda’s world is spent running around after four boys and I get more tired just watching. After dinner I escape to the Hobby, parked in the pub car park opposite and write my day up. She asked me if I would like to stay another day and spend time with her, tempting me with a cycle into Bradford on Avon in the morning along the canal…how can I resist. I aim to have a cup of tea after posting this and crashing. I was going to leave tomorrow and sleep in a layby, but to stay another night here will do no harm

Suburban Normality

Tue 21^st

I spend time mooching around the van and chilling in the morning after everyone has gone to school and Richard, Claire’s husband has gone to Greece for work. I enjoy my time alone, knowing that soon enough everyone will be home. I sit in the garden and write and appreciate that fact that I am in my short long, long shorts and bare feet. It seems summer has come to Wokingham.

I am slap bang in the middle of middle class suburbia and homogenous red bricked houses that mirror each other. When Claire comes home from work, we go into town to do some food shopping for the evening. Wokingham has enough to get by, Reading not too far away by train. I would hate to live here. I would shrivel up and die. No sea to sail, no coast to walk. I am starting to really look forward to going home, just for that alone, never mind all the folks I want to spend time with, hopefully doing just that. Claire sweetly buys me cheeses insisting I have something to remember Wokenham by. I am seeing her again this weekend in Plymouth as she has some business there, so I promise to see her when I get there.

Claire insists on another bottle of wine. I am starting to feel like I have done nothing but drink for weeks. It’s not really my bag, but more so these days. Eleven years of no alcohol seems a long time past now. In the garden Claire’s neighbour Kate comes in for a chat. She wants me to email her. It seems I have made an impression with Claire’s friends, I am flattered.

The evening goes by quickly and Claire and I agree to have en early night as she has a book she wants me to read and needs to finish the last chapter for me to take it. I am relieved as I am tired too, as it seems are the boys, who sit at the table quiet and teenager grumpy. I wisely don’t tease, but instead we talk about things in common and Bill, the eldest talks about shoulder pain. I get my massage oils out, give his shoulders a going over and explain the importance of warming down after sport not just warming up. We do some stretching exercises and he feels better. These are such nice boys and so easy to get on with. I like Claire and Richards old fashioned values with them and it pays off as the boys are a total credit to them.

So a little bit of normal living has set me up for the last few days of my trip. I am so chuffed, I have found an old friend on Facebook. I could not stand the site, but as Deb has cleaned it up for me, I have discovered its benefits. Joe and Tandy went to France to live and then emigrated to Oz. I always phone Joe on his birthday but couldn’t get him this year. Worried I tried all ways to get him, eventually hoping all was well and that they had moved back to France to create their dream of having a place in the mountains and running skiing holidays from it. I discover that is exactly what they have done, so guess where I am off to in the Spring….in the Hobby of course….yippee….

Reuniting With Old and New Friends

Sat 18^th

I spend the morning with Claire and her very nice sons. I love spending time with this family unit. Claire and her husband Richard are wonderful parents and their boys are always happy to talk and be around me, even though it may be years in between meeting me. They are polite, intelligent and cope with me teasing them. I have watched them grow up and Claire tells me that they still read the books I have given them over time. I like that. Jack is 11 and is so very excited to have Fin around and we have to walk him with his bandana. This of course lasts about five minutes before Fin does his business and I make Jack pick it up, which surprisingly he conceded to do. He wants a dog, so he may as well experience it in all it’s glory. After that Jack leaves us to play with his mates in the trees. Claire and I laugh…something we said mate? The reality of owning a dog is not so romantic in it’s stark reality.

In the afternoon I drive the hour and a half to Carly and Bob’s in Lingfield and am met by very excited children, hugs all round and I am so pleased I took the time to visit. Bob makes us food and we sit around the table playing Aware (a-warr-rey). It is an African counting game and is tactical and I have never found anyone who did not enjoy playing it with me. I have great fun in my new friends company. I have parked in the car park at the back of their flat and I sleep there quite peacefully.

Sun 19^th

When I get up and get dressed Carly and I walk the dogs with Roshan in tow. Lingfield is a village surrounded by countryside and we walk the fields with a river running through. Carly ever the survivalist lays traps in the river to catch crayfish. I love watching this young woman, who just works with nature at its best.

Smudge the pup has been very assertive with Fin in the flat and now Fin wants to play chase me in the grass, but smudge being still very young cannot cope and we laugh as she gets in between my legs to protect herself. I nearly fall over her and push her back into the fray. After an hour she more or less gets her head around it and both dogs are giggling as they run in circles playing together. Unfortunately Roshan had a little bag of training treats for smudge and being only a pup herself, feeds Smudge one too many and the dog grabs the bag, razer sharp milk teeth biting her hand. Tears all round as a small pool of blood collects on the wound. Life is a tough learning curve. Roshan is a little toughy though and she is soon back to her normal self. Somehow she managed to find dog muck and stood in it. Carly took her to the river which is narrow and deep and has a sharp slope on its banks, to wash her feet and shoes. Fin follows and went to get a drink, misjudging the tuft of grass as solid. With a large perlop he went head first into the river. I roared with laughter and then tried not to follow him as I dragged him out. Poor chap is saturated and as usual, whenever he has had a dousing of water, he runs round in circles, the lunatic.

My visit with this family is a lovely way to start the end of my trip and as the last week on the road starts I am aware of how much I had done in the last three and a half thousand miles. I have about another three hundred to do, before I enter the boundary of the city I call home- for now. Before I leave the ever generous Bob gives me an awning that he and carly used once on the caravan. It stays in the bag and as we felt it best to see if it works when I get home. I hand him a framed embroidered saying that I have had on the wall of the Hobby to remind me of the shortness of life.

Sing as if no-one is listening

Dance as if no-one is watching

Live every day as if it were your last.

Bob is clearly moved and I hug him. I have enjoyed my time here and now I must away, back to Claire’s. As I drive away Roshan runs up the road alongside the Hobby grinning from ear to ear. I shall return and this friendship will endure, of that I have no doubt. Some folks you meet and you just know that it is not the last time you will spend time with them.

The drive along the M25 car park is a pain, but I am determined to get to Claire’s without satnav. I manage it right up to the last bit, when Claire rings me and I am fortunate that I get directed onto the right track, as I have already gone through the town circular once.

After a roast dinner we settle to chatting and then join the boys on the sofa and watch a movie.

Mon 20^th

I wake after a bit of a wonky sleep. The road looks level but has a squint bit just where my bed is and I could only sleep on my right side without feeling I am being sucked to one side. When I am dressed I put a chock under that wheel to even it out as best I can. Yesterday Claire’s friends and neighbours keep turning up for a look as she has told the whole world about my trip and many are curious. I am flattered that Claire holds me so highly, so put up with the intrusion into my home, grateful that I like to keep it tidy at all times.

Every one is at work or school, so I get a bath, which is a teat and then go out with Claire’s friend Ann. She generously takes me shopping as I want to cook for Claire this evening and give her a night off. No-one else cooks in her house. A Carlson Special fish pie is in the menu with a cheese board to follow. As I get to the check out I realise I have left my wallet behind and am deeply embarrassed and ask Ann if she can help me out. What a burke!

We later go out for a dog walk with a couple of Ann’s friends and what seems like a million working spaniels. It is a pleasant walk around a lake, but I so need to sit by the sea and I would curl up and die if I had to live here.

I get ready to cook when everyone comes home from school and work, homework done and all settled for the evening. Claire suggests we open the very nice Chilean Rose chiraz that I bought for the meal and of course, I agree to be polite! Then she drags me off to meet her next door neighbour and we get engrossed in chatting and almost forget the time. Another glass gets poured and I am started to feel pizzled as I haven’t eaten for a long time. I better crack on or no-one will eat tonight. With the pie in the oven I get the cheese out and make up a board for afterwards and the table is laid. Success…the pie is fabulous and Claire is happy, so I am happy.

After we sit with Jack at the table and he experiments with the cheeses. He tries the goat, sniffs the ewe, and dips into the running blue cow, with an assortment of pumpkin oat, wheat and marmite cracker. I love that he gives it all a go. Claire has never had white stilton before and her palate falls in love with it and polishes it off. I’m not really a blue cheese lover, but love cambazola and my cousin Philip introduced me to Saint Agure when he was here before I left. The small pot of runny stuff is gorgeous. I get a buzz out of discovering new tastes and like to share that. We have all fed well today.

Claire pours me a port to have with the cheese but I sensibly refuse and have a strong coffee instead to try and straighten out. I know I have already had more wine than is sensible. It makes me sleep badly and sure enough I wake in the early hours struggling with pain and have to take something for it. One glass is enough for me…what a lightweight!

Kites, Hills and Disasters

Fri 17^th

I wake up in the morning dreaming that the car park I am on is being tarmaced and the tar had been laid with me inside it, only my wheels on the old surface. Weird, as I can actually smell the tar even after I have woken. It may have been the white vanman who tooted his horn at myself and the other motorhome that parked beside me before dark, just because he can at 5am!

I get myself sorted and ready to leave as I decided last night that I would go to the White Horse in Oxfordshire. To me it is nearer to Swindon than Oxford, but whatever. It is quite a drive and as I pass a petrol station selling fuel for £1.15 I fill up. As I drive through Shropshire and onto Oxfordshire I have plenty of time to think and put on jolly reggae love songs and sing along. I am happy and upbeat.

The carpark for the White Horse is National Trust anad they want £2 for up to four hours and £4 for all day. I figure that the spot that I park on is level enough to sleep in and get an all day ticket taking me to midnight. I reckon I’m safe until morning. I have a piece of bread and cheese and get my small backpack kitted out with provisions for Fin and I as it is a long walk ahead. I asked for an exercise regime and I have started it today. Fin is wearing a little red dandana and he loves it, so much so that when it dropped off he came and stood beside me so I could put it on him again. He is kinda cute in it and people have stopped to admire him in it.

We walk up the hill and see a sign that tells us there is a circular walk around the horse of four miles and another to Waylands Smithy where a barrow is and that is a three mile roundtrip in the other direction. I decide I want to do both and yomp ahead. The soil is not deep here at all and it is only inches to the chalk below. The fields have just been ploughed and are the palest brown. The path is ended quickly and I find myself in a clearing of trees where the long barrow sits. It was discovered and excavated in the sixties and remains of fourteen bodies found in it. It is interesting and we walk around it and then leave to go and see the horse. No-one truly knows the significance of the horse that is carved out of the hillside, but it can be seen from the road and I was shown it by Ian, my ex ambulance instructor after I qualified and I visited him more that 20 years ago. We only drove past with his then girlfriend and now I had the chance to see it up close.

I walked up the hill towards it and found myself in an ironage fort. I walked its perimeter and two young men came on with kites. I stopped to watch grinning as I love kites and these were superkites with inflatable spines. I watched as they pumped the spines up and fixed the strings. They helped each other to get the kites flying and got large skateboards out. I was excited as I imagined all kinds of stunts. The fort is absolutely on the top of the world and has a three sixty view. It is awesome up here and the sky is big. It’s one of the things I love about this area. Big skies make me feel as if I can breath and I want to put my arms out and spin. Of course I don’t, the young guys would think me a bit bonkers if I did. I stand and watch with my hands in my pockets instead.

I leave the kites and walk across the top of the hill and find the horse which gets scoured each year to keep it alive. It is on the side of a very steep hill and to get a better view I descend the hill beside it. My thighs are tested and my knees objected, but held out. God this is steep….

At the bottom is a mound with a flat top. I presume it is a man made mound and climb it, but still cannot get a proper view of the horse, so climb another hill to get a different view. God I asked for a work out and I’m getting one! Eventually I get to a more level area closer to the carpark and look back to see most of the horse, but it is obscured in places. Two men walk past with large model airplanes. It is a good day for flying.

Back at the Hobby I am tired and feel good for the exercise. I need a cup of tea and sort myself out some food as I am hungry. I turn on the gas but nothing happens. Oh no…no gas. Crap! Stupid me!

I turn on my netbook and plug in my dongle worried as I only have 8 minutes left on my phone contract. I get hold of a garage that sells gas and I drive away not really prepared to leave.
I’m really fed up at myself for not checking the gas a couple of days earlier when my brain said to.

As I drive down the road an almighty crash occurs in the back of the Hobby. I cannot just stop and drive on a little way until it is safe to do so. I have forgotten to shut the door housing the microwave and it has fallen out and onto the floor. Crap! It is clearly broken as the front panel has come away. I usually keep a basket full of bits and bobs on top of it and the kitchen area looks like Hiroshema after the bomb. I shrug my shoulders and ignore it, driving on in my best ‘bovered?’ attitude.

My concern is ti get to the garage so I can go back to the car park and sleep. Not a chance as when I get to the garage 40 minutes later I am aware that they actually don’t have any gas. I ask the woman who I spoke to where is the gas she told me was there. She informs me that the manager told her and she is embarrassed. I ask for the manager to tear his ears off, but he has gone home. The lady feels worse as I don’t lose my cool, just politely tell her to pass on my unhappiness to him the next day.

Now I am stuck as I cannot even heat up water for a wash and I haven’t a clue where to go next. I could go back to the campsite, but cannot make hot food. I have no idea where I may get gas from and it’s dark now. My anxiety levels creep upwards.

I do something alien to me and ask for help. Wow, what a breakthbrough.

I phone Claire and explain and ask if I can come to hers and park outside. She says ‘yes of course’ and I drive another two hours to hers. I am chinstrapped and with eyes squinting in tiredness I look for the signs for M4. I see a sign that says A417 Reading and follow that instead. It is a twisty country road and I pray for a garage that sells gas. I see a sign that tells me there is the last garage before the motorway coming up nad as I squint into tit my eyes open up wide as I spy gas bottles in a cage.. ’please be open’.

I drive in a and babble away to a young Asian man about how grateful I am and ask him to help me get the new bottle on board. I cannot get the hand tight screw undone and get the empty bottle on the floor to get a better purchase. The young man tries and he also cant do it. I get some mole grips and try, but only succeed in shaving some of the brass off the corners of the nut. I know its got an opposite thread so eventually with a bit of brute determination I crack the nut while the young man has gone to serve someone else. So much for hand tight! Relieved to have gas I drive off and make my way to Claire, who acts as a satnav getting me to her house in Wokingham from the motorway.

I stop at a Chinese take away and as I stand up I step onto my laptray and it breaks across the middle. Pants.. Oh wel,l that’s the three things out of the way. I’m a little upset at that one as I’ve had it for about ten years and it was a xmas present from my dad. I like it as I can sit my computer on it at night when I am in bed and it does a good job. I go and get myself some prawn chow mein as I could eat a scabby horse at this stage. It is 8 hours since I ate the bread and cheese and my stomach thinks my throat has been cut. I arrive at Claire’s who sits with me as I eat and we drink a glass of wine, which cuts to the chase immediately. I am squiffy with tiredness and anxiety. We natter along for a while, before I fall into bed and straight into a coma, relieved, safe and full of noodles.