New Fridge ... well nearly!

Followers of this blog will know that 'Final Fridge Doom Day' was only a matter of time. Well time is nigh. It is upon us. Bank balance has been raided. New and horrendously expensive fridge, is on its way. They are 'horrendously expensive' as they are a rather different animal from your conventional Curry's whitegoods special. As such they fall into a specialist category labelled 'Caravan or Motorhome' which for the manufacturer translates into: 'We'll charge you whatever we like.'

Day 1 ~ Old fridge removal.
This, surprisingly, was relatively easy. Exit was through Sadie's passenger door. Old fridge slid gently down the back of the folded and blanket covered passenger seat. The handle was removed from Sadie's door which facilitated a guiding/lowering of said fridge, to the floor with able bodied Hannah, Richards carer, assisting. Richard acted as dutiful observer.

Day 2 ~ New fridge arrival.
Excitement all round as a large well packed New fridge arrived. Unpacking and investigation were quickly followed by decisive action. No storing in the garage to be dealt with later by this skilled and willing crew. Oh no! New fridge was going straight into Sadie. This reverse operation was happily also trouble free with assistance once more from a very strong and willing Hannah.

Problem 1 ~ There always has to be one problem does there not? It is mandatory with any job or task as far as I know. Anyway this 'number 1' problem reared it's ugly and mocking face as I replaced/re-assembled Sadie's passenger door. I was required to re-connect the wiring to the electric window. Uhh ho! Guess who cocked up and blew a fuse!!  It took a lunch break, a longish think (Read; "How the hell did that happen.") and a scrabble about under the drivers seat before I finally found the blown fuse. Thankfully all worked well once new fuse was slotted neatly into its housing.

Problem 2 ~ (I find problems usually come in multiples of three. Read on, number three follows, big time!) Hannah & I decided to lift new fridge into position, which was a tight fitting wooden cabinet, to see if it would fit. Well it didn't but we established what needed modifying and removed the fridge. This was awkward and we damaged the gas burner pipe at the back of the fridge. Grrrrrrrr!

I decided 'enuffs enuff'. I gave myself the rest of the day off as I was now a grumpy old man with the added bonus of a fast developing snuffling and sneezing head cold. like lightening this head cold had actioned a nuclear explosion affect in all my snot, sneeze and feeling absolute crap departments.

Shoving, sawing, measuring and much pondering over the next few days saw one new fridge neatly slot into place all ready for a visit to local dealer 'Webbs' for a trade professional to connect up and test gas and electric connection. An hours job at the outside.

Yeeah right!!!

Gas no problem. Electric? Well lets just say we did establish that the fridge worked but after three hours of expensive labour charges I threw in the towel and said: 

"Done for. Can't afford no more." 

They were very understanding and Ian the experienced electrician was gutted at not having got to the root of the connection problem. The bill was tolerable and thankfully was for considerably less labour than actually expended.

Now I'm not going to bore you to death here with reams of technicality's. Much as I would love to I will refrain; satisfying myself instead with insider knowledge, as a former therapist, that personal therapy, or sectioning, is required for such technical outpourings. Lets just say that two days later, after blowing up a solenoid and nearly setting fire to Sadie I now sort of understand the electric system and am pleased to announce Sadie has a fully functioning brand new fridge.

We have a bonus too. A grumpy electric footstep. I believe I may have upset Monsieur footstep by setting fire to and thus damaging his personal solenoid. This essential item has decided to flash the French words 'Alarme, Alarme' at me accompanied by annoying, and dreadfully out of tune, buzzing noises.  

I guess, as a footstep life can be termed a raw deal when your sole purpose is to be continually stepped on but, hey; come on. I'll have you know I've been close to ending it all over the frustrating vagarities of Sadies highly complex electrics. Poor Richard did not quite know what to make of it two days ago after the unfortunate smoke pouring from Sadies control panel incident as I sat in his living room glum faced, deathly quiet and smelling of electric smoke. Mind you he did cheer up when I appeared for lunch toting Sadies control panel motherboard for us both to peer at with some vague idea of it miraculously fixing itself. Botch job and the blind leading the blind comes to mind.

So come on Monsieur footstep. Give us a break willya. Sort yourself out.

Wanderlust.

"That's it, that's my lust. Wanderlust. That is the thing I cannot let go of ....... yet."

It was cold this morning 4.5 degrees C inside Sadie. The first sharp cold of the year reminding me I was headed in the right direction, South. Both Tanya and I were snuggled down in our warm beds. Me with cup of tea after venturing forth into the nippy coldness to boil up kettle and switch on heating. Now, as I rested warm and snuglyback in my warm bed I dreamily mused on my minds arrival at 'Wanderlust.'

I had spent the previous day with my X family. Indeed I am due to spend another one with them in a couple of weeks. Weddings and funerals eh!

Listening to and being part of, for the day, the busy-ness, the 'doing', the success and the difficulties of younger generations reminded me of how much busy-ness and 'doing' I have let go of as I have been on this journey and as I have gotten older. Not that busy-ness or 'doing' is in any way wrong. Far from it. It is very much one of life's pleasurable norms. I was reminded of that very fact as I called in to see good friends Mike and Marion in their beautiful home near Gloucester. Mike is not too far behind me in maturity and loves his busy-ness and 'doing' to creative perfection. He has no intention whatsoever of letting any of that go. It got me thinking and pondering over what I am not, and have no intention of, letting go. That is when 'Wanderlust' strolled round the bend and exclaimed:  

"Hey! Listen up. Y'aint lettin me go. We'se havin a good time me n yuh aint we? I takes yuh good places huh? I lets yuh have bits of the settlin stuff but ah knows when y'feels them itchy feet n wanna bit more venturin so off we'se go wanderin again t'find some more quiet n off the beaten track, n lonesome nooks n crannys. Ah knows y'likes them n we find some crackin ones me n you eh?"

I guess you're right wanderlust. While health and good fortune are intact its you I have no intention of letting go of. Tonight's and last night's wild-camp spots have proved the point too. Last night It was the edge of a small village. Quiet, peaceful and with abundant juicy Blackberries to pick and cook with my big bag of fresh cooking apples. A gift from Mike and Marion.

Tonight though is a 'Wanderlust cracker'. Quorn, Leicestershire, is a mile and a half away from this lonely track winding its way through ancient 'Charnwood' forest around 'Swithland' reservoir where Memories of a forest playground from fifty plus years ago are still vivid. Sadly the group of rocks I used to know as 'Cowboy hill' are no longer in existence. The prehistoric granite playground from the past now a gaping quarried hole in the ancient forest.

The moon is out now, peeping at us through the huge beech tree towering above. The small and friendly crowd by the railway bridge have all left and the gala steam railway weekend has ended. All the lovingly restored 'Thomas the tank engines' are presumably safely tucked up in their sidings.
Seeing and hearing those evocative steam engines chuffing and tooting their way over the reservoir on the old Victorian arched bridges was the icing on this 'wanderlusts' cake. Clearly it illustrated 'why I aint letting go of my wanderlust passion ... yet!'

I think tomorrow heralds some bicycle wanderlust. I wonder if 'Unit Road' is still there?
NB: Awoke to heavy rain & wind. Hmmmph! Ah well. We'll meditate and accept 'Wanderlust's' different offering. Wonder which bend we're going round this time?

Referendum - final say & moving on.

"If Steve does not live in a house how come he is able to vote in the Scottish referendum?"

Barbara reliably informed me this was the question fired at mum Kirsten by six year old Angus as he was being driven to school.

We were visiting Barbara's niece Kirsten, partner Pete and children Angus and Rowan in their lovely rural Scottish Borders home. The previous night Barbara and I had thoroughly enjoyed a concert in 'Kelso' of Scottish Folk music by Phil Cunningham and Aly Bain. Two highly accomplished musicians with a wonderful line in banter. The evening was excellent and so was the walk back to Sadie afterwards. We were parked up for the night right outside the concert venue and a lovely park where Tanya could be walked.  

We were now twisting our way up a narrow lane toward 'Woden Law' which looked on the map to be a good 'Cheviot Hills' walk for a sunny and warm autumnal day. As I drove I pondered on the question asked by Angus. A six year old asking such a question sums up the almost unbelievable involvement by all strata of society in the recent roller coaster Scottish referendum. Schools from primary to senior had been involved as well as people from all walks of life. Many of whom had never before been motivated toward any sort of political involvement.  

This was the 'win win' of the referendum. From six year old youngsters to the very aged. All had got involved. Got involved enough to think about things and ask questions. Got involved enough to enable 3.6 million individual votes to be cast. 3.6 million votes indicating the governmental staus quo of the United Kingdom was not, in it's present form, OK.

The vote is over. The backtracking and mistrusted slippery political manoeuv'ring has now resumed. Oh but Wow! Scotland! What a place to be those few weeks before the referendum. I don't suppose I will ever experience anything quite like it again in my lifetime.

Now the leaves are dropping and the time has come for Sadie to turn South. Saying farewell to the little cottage called 'Sunnybraes' and Barbara contains an emotional roller coaster in its own right. One we both understand and know is the key to our times together being

 enhancing of both our lives.

Bye bye East Neuk of Fife and welcome to new travels.

Independance etc

Barbara and I walked ceremoniously away from Sadie toward the village post box. Two postal votes were safely consigned to the familiar red depository leaving us no turning back from the individual decisions we had made. 

Scotland was proving to be an exciting, fully involved, and impassioned, place to be in this, the run up to September the 18th and the momentous referendum on Scottish Independence from Westminster governance which, depending on 'yes' or  'no', could also mean separation from the established and historical norm known as the United Kingdom.  

My years of experience in the counselling room showed me emphatically time and time again the value of change, of stepping outside comfort zones, of facing up to difficult decisions. Whether and what sort of change will happen to our nation will be decided on Sept 18th. My hope is that whichever way it goes the energy that has been created by so many will not be lost in the acrid dust of political stagnancy.

"That's it done then." I said to Barbara as we walked back to Sadie to commence our journey. 

I had for the last 10 days enjoyed staying with Barbara in 'Boarhills', Fife. Her company and charming sun blessed wee country cottage made for a delightful pause in the journey that is 'Steve and Tanyas wanderings'. Sadie got to once again rest for a while at neighbouring Kenlee Green farm curtesy of Frank and Bernice. Big tractors, combine harvesters and straw balers busy with harvest and constantly in and out of the farmyard. This was familiar territory to me and I will admit to enjoying being in among it once again. Well, I  admit to it with one caveat. Distance. I am no longer directly involved. In my days of selling into this industry I used to call this busy time 'the season of the demented beast!' A time when weather, machinery breakdowns, bureaucracy and overall pressure forced farmers and agricultural contractors into tired anxious and often ill tempered mental states. Boy am I glad to be well past all of that.

How things move on though. A long chat to farmers son Andrew educated me as to how much 'Self steer' is now in use. This is a system whereby the tractor driver sets up a computer and Mr hunking big tractor and Mrs hunking big implement decide for themselves the best way to 'do' the particular field they are in. Tractor driver then sits and catches up with his facebook pals as Mr and Mrs hunking big clever and precise sprayer/cultivator or whatever do the job. They maximize on land usage while minimizing wastage. Clever clever stuff made possible by the same GPS signal that my motorhome Sat Nav system relies on.

Right now though we have taken advantage of the calm before the storm. Literally and in a weather sense rather than political. There is a large high pressure area sitting atop Scotland and as I raise my eyes to take in the vista I see the result. Here on the empty and remote peninsular west of 'Arisaig' it is Stunning. The islands of 'Eigg and Rum' loom out of the sea mist to the west. They are barely visible across a mirror calm and sun drenched silent sea. To be on the west coast of Scotland parked but ten yards away from glassy smooth incoming high tide with no waves crashing or gale force winds blowing is very very special. All the huge and universal forces, normally so vociferous here on this violent coastal 'edge' now silent, benign, still, sun blessed and beautiful. Such a moment in time is privilege indeed. Privilege which outwardly says unwordable; while simultaneously inwardly demanding mind to fling electronic words at smartphone screen so others may in some way be similarly touched, calmed and inspired.

Grandchildren trips.

'Jedburgh' Caravan and camping club site in the beautiful but at present wet, Scottish Borders. Sadie is full of son in law Chris, two young uns, Aiden and Rebecca plus of course yours truly with Tanya.

The large pull down bed over the cab area is in use which means driver and passenger seats have to be folded down making a cosy little nest for Tanya in the dark and 'cannot be got at' drivers footwell. She disapeared in there last night as soon as the bed was lowered and did not emerge until after eight this morning. She is not used to our limited floor space being invaded by another six randomly moving sock clad feet. Mind you, she was quite happy to run the gauntlet and dodge all sock clad feet this morning once she got a whiff of sausages being cooked for breakfast.

The sun soon re appeared and the delights of Jedburgh's magnificent and skeletal Augustine monastry, its Castle and Gaol and the local swimming pool were all enjoyed.

A few days later it was 'Auchingarrich' wildlife park near 'Comrie'.  Only this time my travelling companions were Mia and Jenna. We had such a good time there and Tanya, on a lead, was able to accompany us everywhere. Mum Kirsten was happy too as I delivered the two girls safely back in plenty of time to dress up and show off their new school clothes ready for the next days school term start. Mia in particular with her brand new local high school uniform looked really cool. Is it me getting old or do children grow up far faster than they used to?

So. Here we are once again a Tanya and I twosome. We are on the edge of Loch Lomond walking in the beautiful Cashel Forest amid skudding showers and forever changing light scapes. Lunch was enjoyed sprawled out on the purple heather right by the small Rowan tree marking the spot where Kate's ashes were interred. I am so glad we chose this stunning viewpoint. Seeing that the sturdy memorial seat is being well used is heartening too. It is still in very good condition with a well trodden path leading to it.

The only dampener to an otherwise worthwhile day was the local C & C C campsite cost me double this year. £18.00! So much for their 'careful review' of fees.  Is it any wonder I free or wild camp whenever I can.
Rant over!

A day of 'Happenings'

Warm clear clean water flowing by and over me as I swam quietly away from  'Finney' bridge on 'Lough Mask' right on the boundary between County Mayo and Galway. I felt a difference in water temperature as I swam away from the bridge and encountered the mix of waters between the smaller lough and the much larger Lough Mask. The colder water refreshed even more and I revelled in this early morning bathe amid the stunning scenery, low grey misty cloud, silence and overall calm. The tourists  had not started to arrive yet with their, camera out and; 

"Willya jurrst look at this you guys," brief picture gathering and cigarette butt leaving stops.

Fishermen were not to be seen at this early hour either. They were absent late last night too as I stood with mug of tea in hand watching numerous largish fish taking the late evening fly. Earlier, in the same spot, I had watched fishing lines whooshing out from long sleek rods only to be reeled back in empty toward frustrated faces. The Heron I espied and watched at binocular distance was having no problem though. Mr, or Mrs Heron, as I watched, downed a three course meal of Cordon Bleau fresh lake fish oblivious of being beautifully encapsulated within focused convex lenses.

Oh! but how it can all change. Peace, calm, slowness & no hurry. The way every day should start and remain throughout. We were doing so well too. Meandering slowly along in an Easterly direction with the Larne to Cairnryan (Stranrear) ferry slotted into the plan sometime in the next few days.

Meandering slowly is not a choice here in Ireland. If you drive a 'Sadie' it is a basic fact rendered as necessary due to the condition, bendy'ness, and at this time of year, exaggerated narrowness due to heavy vegetation, of the Irish roads. Mind you I do sympathize with Irish road builders. An awful lot of this beautiful green island is bog. Soft wet spongy bog. Very much akin to that yellow soggy sponge sluggishly floating in your bath. Try building a road on that.

So: slow n easy it was with hot sun shining from a rain free blue blue sky. Pleasing to the eye rural Irish heartland slipped effortlessly by Sadie's panoramic windscreen. 

Then,
in an instant,
life's chaotic choice factor takes over.

Hurtling into view round a sharpish bend appears a gi-normous green tractor towing a wider, heavily loaded, equally gi-normous, trailer. He was on his side of the narrow road but not tightly so and as I dived to my non existent left to squeeze through the impossible gap I observed two things. The monster was not slowing down and the young looking driver only had one hand with which to control the beast. His other hand was holding a feckin mobile phone to his ear!

There was a sickening, loud, obviously painful to Sadie, screeching of tough hedgerow seeking to rip off all fibreglass skirting down her left side. Miraculously we made it through the gap and into a layby a few hundred yards on. Monster tractor and trailer continued on and out of sight.

Examination revealed damage. No doubt about that. Closer examination established Sadie was still in one piece but with her recently cleaned and polished left lower skirting scratched and holed in places but importantly, still attached and serviceable.

I briefly considered following the monster for insurance etc. Only briefly though. This is Ireland. The route to less hassle was shrug, be thankful it was not worse and once again remind myself: Big van, narrow roads, my choice and therefore to be expected every now and then.

That was number one 'Happening'. Number two was in 'Athlone'. A pleasant town on the 'Shannon' waterway. The sun continued to grace us with its presence as we lunched outside while watching the comings and goings of boats through the big Irish waterways lock. We continued walking through a park and back through the town. Least I thought it was back through the town. Somehow I had become dis-orientated and gotten us completely lost. I, in general, have a reasonably good sense of direction but for some reason 'Athlone' decided to render me totally lost for a full three quarters of an hour.  Maybe it is a game for which 'Athlone' is known. I say that as I asked directions of one local who sent me:

"Straight now, straight to the traffic lights, you'll see then, you'll see straight enough then".

Well I didn't see 'straight enough then'. When I got to the traffic lights I was even more confused and lost so I asked someone else. This elderly lady proceeded to send me right back the way I had come but:

"be sure to bear left now, just past the top of the hill now".

I eventually, with tired dog trotting alongside reached Sadie. I gave my head a good shaking to wake up just in case it had all been a dream. "That's two "Happenings", I muttered. "What on earth is going to be number three?"

Yup. Sure enough there was 'Happening' number three.

I'd headed for a small road that Mrs Sat nav said went down to the waters edge of 'Lake Ennell' just by 'Mullingar'. Well it did. Even better was that it led to a local authority adventure centre cum Pitch n Putt golf course. An ideal spot for the night with freshwater swimming on the menu. Just one problem. Prominent 'No Camping' notices.

"This is too good to miss out on Tanya. C'mon lets go ask the staff."

I had espied another notice saying: 'Dogs must be on a lead at all times' so Tanya  was firmly attached to my belt as we walked across to where lots of children were milling around, the majority of whom were very wet.

I'd just approached a young lady staff member when behind me all hell broke loose. I whipped round to find Tanya on her back fighting off a Collie who was giving her a right pasting. A savage swipe from my right hand removed the Collie and Tanya was quickly scooped up in my arms.
The young lady stepped between Collie and me and shouted whereupon Collie slunk away. Turned out Mrs grumpy Collie had three pups close by, was not on a lead and was owned by the young lady, who turned out to be joint centre manager with her husband.

Number three 'Happening' had two positive outcomes. Firstly Tanya. She was shaken but thankfully not seriously hurt in any way. The second positive? Well after that little incident young lady was most apologetic and saw no problem at all with us staying overnight.

Boy oh Boy! Was that not a lovely cooling swim to finally bring to an end our day of 'Happenings'.

Parallel lives

"Looks like we are here for another hour at least" 

said Stephen as he watched me happily paddling around barefoot in the knee deep high tidal water covering his motorhome exit route. I was parked by him but OK as I was staying overnight among the beautiful water meadows and sand dunes at 'Caher Beach' Just along from 'Castlegregory'.

Stephen, Joy, their motorhome plus their three dogs were already there as I moved Sadie from my sons house. The holiday rental season was underway. Keith and Justine's first paying guests were arriving and I guess would not be too chuffed upon arrival to find a hulking great motorhome parked out front. I had enjoyed my week at their home in close proximity to one year old Kaden with his inevitable toddler tumbles and intelligently engaging 'da da da da' language skills.

This new camping spot just above the high tide mark was convenient being equa—distance between their house and 'Beach Box', Keith and Justine's popular holiday shop and launderette in 'Castlegregory'.

Stephen, it turned out had an uncannily similar life journey to my own. From a seagoing start to a final career, like myself, in mental health with Dyslexia and 'seeking' also emerging as further parallels. We decided there was only one thing to do. We both headed off up the tidal river into the wetlands to a deep pool I had spotted earlier. Joy and her camera and the three dogs caught up with us later as we were walking down the low tide sandy riverbank after our cool refreshing swim. Tanya just loved being with their dogs and got so carried away she, without any assistance from me, swam across the shallow river at one point. Mind you: I had to wade across and fetch her back. One swim OK. Two? 

"Hah! Who do you think I am? Some kinda a woofin seal or something!"

No swimming tonight but I have just been paddling. I had to reach Sadie on my way back from spending a pleasant evening with Keith and Justine and a very tired little Kaden. Its high tide with the exit/entry under salty sea water once more. Sandals off, Tanya tucked under my arm, umbrella up as the rain was (still is)fairly hammering down and wade through about fifty yards of knee deep but temperate tidal flow.

Tomorrow, at low tide, we move on. A slow trip taking in some more of Irelands West coast before hitting the ferry across to Scotland.

1st Birthday party

I'd forgotten how all consuming and vocally demanding a one year olds temper tantrum can be. Kaden was removed by Mum Justine. Five minutes later a smiling toddler returned to the kitchen chattering away in baby talk, tantrum forgotten. 

"He gave a great big fart and was fine afterwards". Said Justine as she returned to the table to finish her meal.

Yesterday I'd made it across to 'Castlegregory' here in Co Kerry, Ireland for Kaden, my latest grandsons, first birthday party. Lots of food, lots of Mums and Dads and of course lots of toddlers. Tanya, used to having to be on the move to avoid Kaden, was confined to Sadie for the party. One toddler is manageable but a pack of them? Way too much for an ageing canine lady. The pack soon had me exhausted too. Altogether though, a lovely party where  Kaden remained on his wobbly little legs and feet throughout with only the occasional tear or two during the inevitable tumbles.

Bereavement & Crutches

I stood there dumbstruck staring at the object in my hand. I just could not believe what I was seeing. My mind was itching to become angry and aggressive. Earlier times would have seen me move very quickly straight into such anger and aggression which in those days would have signposted me straight down the road to depression, failure complex's and loss of self confidence. Now though I continued to stare at my hand eventually voicing my feelings with the words. 

"I cannot believe I have just done that".

The day, up to this point, had gone well. It was my last day of caring for My disabled brother Richard. His full time carer, Hannah was on her way from the Czech Republic and would arrive later in the day. The house was spic and span and a delicious Green Thai curry prepared for the evening. 

Richard and I, yesterday, had enjoyed a wonderful day out. We did an eight mile trek around Salisbury with me accompanying his rough terrain electric buggy on my bike. Tanya rode in her green bucket on the back of my bike. Actually she ran most of the way and only accessed her green bucket 'taxi' on busy road sections. We thoroughly enjoyed the experience and were today quite happy to stay 'home based'.

The weather was hot so what more inviting than a cool swim. I headed over the playing field to my chosen riverbank spot and immersed myself in the fast flowing clean chalk water of the river Nadder. Beautiful, and gorgeously cooling. 

 I then slowly walked back to the house where I had a chat with Richard before going upstairs to change out of my swimming shorts. Only at that point did I discover deep in my swimming shorts pocket, my beloved mobile phone! This was the object lying in my hand. A soggy and very dead object. This was the happening my brain was having difficulty coming to terms with. 

I must have remained there a full minute, maybe more, deathly still, shocked, jaw moving but no words emerging. Dumbfounded and just desperately not wanting the truth of what I was staring at to be reality. Of course it was very much reality and my voiced words finally broke the spell. The awful reality of this completely dead and very wet modern smartphone became fact. 

 Action was needed and soon followed. It was not long before my bank balance got shocked into shuddering finances through the credit card into the hands of a delighted Carphone Warehouse salesperson. 

Since then it has just been the normal modern day hassle of recovering 'stuff' from the ether, or, as they call it these days; 'the cloud'. Intermittent shaking of the head and ' I cannot believe I have just done that' still remain but are getting less severe now. Until that is, I get unmercifully ribbed by Hannah, Richards carer, with comments such as: 

"Oh! Going mobile swimming again are.we!!" ..... Aarrrrgh!

However; I have to inform you dear reader, that such comments are coming from a young lady who recently walked the 93 mile Scottish West Highland Way using crutches as she had a badly damaged tendon in her leg. Yes reader, that is right, I did say crutches. Actual perch on the arm anodised aluminium standard NHS crutches. 

 I ask you sincerely now. Would you consider such a woman sane? Indeed: how dare such a courageously crazy lady unmercifully taunt a doddery, vulnerable and elderly citizen as he bravely copes with sudden, unexpected and tragic bereavement. 

Mobile swimming Huh!, I'll have you know I was totally besotted with my beautiful red HTC one smartphone. 

 Then I drownded it! 

 Sorry, I'll have to end here..... sob..... The emotion is getting to me. ..... sob, sob. "Where the hell ..... sob ..... did I put that whisky bottle."

Thoughts & something from the past.

I'm in Salisbury at present spending time with family, staying with my Brother and giving Sadie some well earned rest and TLC. Part of the TLC was repairing Sadies rear bumper. All the way around three European countries and guess who backs into an obstruction just near Redhill, Surrey! Luckily the damage was easily repairable with trusty but smelly fibreglass resin.

While at Montsec, France, a few weeks ago. I was near the American war memorial and parked amidst beautiful wild meadows. This lovely setting surrounded as I was by Mother Nature reminded me of 'sumthin wot I rote' back in 1997. I remember the day clearly  as one of those days that subtly re-inforces as yet unseen change. A jigsaw piece, one of many, slotting into place and slowly revealing a clearer image. Indeed it was 1998 when those changes matured. The picture took shape and I chose to end my agricultural career.

Here it is.

MEADOW.
(originally written June 1997)

I used to sell agricultural machinery and one day assisted setting off a large shiny and very technical new mowing machine. I was left standing amid the exposed underbelly of cut grass, watching as machine and tractor whined away down the field successfully cutting a wide swathe through a strong healthy mix of meadow grass and self sown green stalks of corn.
 
A slight movement and tiny screeching made me aware of a family of field mice at my feet scuttling in all directions, except for the one doing the screeching who was fatally injured. Their home was gone, their vulnerability exposed, their world irrevocably changed.

The mower wound down after the first circuit of the field. Farmer and manufacturers rep became deeply involved conversing technicalities. I, while trying to stay interested, observed and became totally fascinated by the thousands of tiny beings, grasshoppers, aphids, greenfly, butterflies, caterpillars, bugs  of every description moving en-masse on the flat shiny green metal surface of this brand new mower. They were a huge fearful and panicked 'bug' crowd trying to escape but only managing to run this way and that and getting nowhere. Just like the field mice.

A whole population of creatures. A complete swathe of Mother Nature forced from their active conscious life, into a different state of being. A totally alien state of being. From my vantage point, it seemed all they could do was revert to this instinctive and compulsive behaviour of running this and that way in the vain hope of what was before, if remembered, would return.

Such an abundance of nature's life in such a small place and time and just altered with not a thought to the consequences. And done by one fairly ordinary machine built by humans to help improve humans lot.

And, I am told, for now this improving seems to work and is beneficial.  Bigger, better, always better. More efficient too. Such machinery and technology are, so say, controlling and changing nature for my benefit. 

Oh! And yes, in the past nature has been harmed. No one is denying that fact. But not to worry.  We are environmentally aware now. Technology coupled with ever increasing knowledge and sophistication will overcome and give us the very best of  Mother Nature.
 
Which is? 

A Mother Nature that humankind will cherish, understand and carry on being environmentally correct with. A Mother Nature that humankind will be proficient and efficient with. We will safely alter and manipulate her so as to provide for our needs.

A laudable aim which humanity actively pursues and is relatively successful at in some areas, and for short periods of time. A sort of, ‘Look, if I throw enough intelligent resources and controls at this I can do it.

However, Mother Earth's nature is not a benign system taking in all and meekly subjecting herself to our will and needs.

Over time immemorial, and in guises as obscure as gaseous explosions of unimaginable force in the outer extremities of eternity, to, simple breezes rustling leaves on a balmy summers evening Mother Nature continually mutates. Mother Nature is highly interactive. Mother Nature is a flexible, powerful system and consummate mistress of change. She proves and shows to us on a daily basis how fast and adept she is at coping, combatting and defeating anything our brains, never mind our feeble machines and as yet prehistoric computers, can devise or challenge her with.

No. This shiny new machine will not assist in famine. It will not stop Global warming or the destruction of Ozone. It can do nothing for the changing weather patterns, the increasing floods or the rising sea levels. Or even the saving of field mice.

There are throughout time, many who have been, and still are, aware of  how superior Mother Natures brain is to our own. Our civilization has now labelled that brain  Chaos or, Chaos theory.

Chaos, is not hampered by having to think, or to do. Chaos just ‘is'. Neither does it have morals or values. There is no problem with, or avoidance of, death. No time limit either, only infinity. Chaos has no ego, greed, vanity, jealousy, pride or hate. Only beauty, vastness beyond comprehension, and the  power of continual evolvement and renewal.

Now I, a human, am simply part of that chaos, a part of  Mother Nature, no more and no less. So are the insects, bugs and field mice. I am not superior too, nor do I have anything that would remotely pass as an equal intelligence to that of  Mother Nature. I grow, like nature, am flexible like nature, and I survive alongside other individual parts of nature as a whole.
 
Extinction in nature is commonplace and I am not immune. Indeed the planet is not immune to changing its Natural State to one that would not support life as I know it. To Mother Nature that is simply of no consequence, just progression, a change of state, a normal and perfectly sane chaotic Happening.

I once listened to a radio program about a man who spent most of the latter part of his life planting acorn seeds by the thousands in an area that was remote and uninhabited due to humanity's despoiling and deforestation.  Many years passed with the old man long gone. But his simple action became a forest, with rivers, wildlife, and communities.

He had figured it out. He just became a part of Mother Nature. He did no more or no less than Mother Nature herself.  He gently fed back to Mother Nature that which earlier humanity had removed.  Mother Nature sprouted fresh life and offered back to humanity another small chance to learn a little more.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Verdun plus old books.

Purples and yellows plus all imaginable shades of green and brown. An old fashioned meadow complete with it's myriad insect and in particular, butterfly life. Tall big leafed green plants with pools of water from early morning mist nestled in their cup like leaf and stem intersections. Frogs and toads leaping and splashing out of harms way as soon as I, or Tanya, appear in their acute sphere of vision as we walked down by the drainage ditch. White clouds moving firmly across the sky allowing frequent sun warming of body and land

"Heaven". I think to myself.

Then, as I raise my eyes to the 'Butte de Montsec' on the hill above the little village of 'Montsec' here on the edge of 'Lac de Madine' I am reminded and I reflect.

98 years and 2 months ago in this very same place where I am experiencing Heaven, man was acting out, with his latest technology, and in vicious and brutal reality, 'Dantes Inferno'. The American war memorial, 'Butte de Montsec', is on a strategic hill that between March 12 & 16 in the year 1916 saw not only thousands of humans sacrificed but also enormous land, village, plant and forest sacrifice too.

We are completely alone here below the village of Montsec on a small forest track on the edge of this beautiful meadow. I've granted myself time today to stop, slow down, reflect and meditate on this very paradox of beauty and horror. Of how I can only enjoy such peace, beauty, silence and completeness if I remember and honour always the full and rushing rivers of ancestral sacrifice carrying me here and onward on my journey. To put it simply, If I stop remembering, If I stop appreciating and immersing myself in this beauty they have bequeathed, in this moment, to me, then what in 'Dantes Inferno hell' did they sacrifice themselves for.
.........

Another beautiful days ending. This one amid the obscenely weed free wheat, rape and barley fields above 'St Mihiel' On the river Meuse. There is a wee astronomy observatory next to us owned by the local association of astronomy enthusiasts. One of them, M'sieur Ronald arrived just as we had parked.  

"Est no problem." 

He said, in answer to my 'out of courtesy' query re parking up for the night.

M'sieur Ronald then proudly escorted me on a grand tour of the observatory with its  home made domed and opening fiberglass rotating roof. The large and old, but with excellent lenses, telescope then gazes out at the stars. Some wonderful photographs were on display and despite the language difference I think we did really well. You need a fairly good grasp of any language to discuss solutions to winter humidity affecting star gazing telescopes. We managed quite well though and I have a feeling purchase of a larger solar panel will be on the agenda of the next association meeting.

We started the day further north in the 'Verdun' battlefield just North East of Verdun itself. What can you say. More 'Dantes Inferno' everywhere you look or tread. Sections of trench left as they were. Areas, lots of them, left pockmarked with shell craters but now with grass and flowers growing in them. The whole area, apart from the tourist sites/memorials/forts etc is now attractive forest. I actually stayed deep in the forest last night and latish this morning was very gently, and with commendable understanding, moved on by the local police/forest ranger and reminded camping is not allowed as the whole area is regarded as a memorial site.

We spent the morning taking all this in. This afternoon we rang the bell of change and drove back South to 'St Mihiel', itself having a horrendous 1st WW story.  We  came instead to see part of its rich earlier history. There was a large and wealthy Benedictine monastery here. The buildings were put to other uses after the Monks left. However the library of ancient handwritten and early printed books remains to this day in a magnificent library. It was damaged and looted during the French revolution but now is a priceless archive of historical books. A complete and welcome contrast to the 'Dantes Inferno' I had chosen to immerse myself into for the last few days.

As I gaze out now at the ever darkening orange, red, pink and purple sunsetting sky I notice there is not a sound. Apart from a gentle and occasional snore from Tanya. I've one more day, tomorrow, Sunday in this area then 9am Monday, in Verdun, Tanya gets her Vet clearance for the UK and we head to Calais and a 6pm ferry to Dover on Tuesday evening.

This has been some trip.

Another Virgin! Then Cows!

This particular virgin is a cracker though. She is made of captured and then melted down cannons from the French victory at 'Sebastapol' during the Crimea war. She towers above the very motorhome friendly city of 'Le Puy en Velay' atop her lump of left over volcanic rock. €3.50 bought me a ticket and like many others I was soon up her. (Sorry. Rather unsavoury but I could not resist a bit of humour.) And I mean right up her. Literally a spiral staircase and finally a steel ladder to a perspex dome where eyes view the spectacle below between the twelve celestial stars adorning 'la Vierge's' head.

I have to admit to enjoying and being impressed on several layers. Firstly the setting, high up atop this tower of volcanic rock, is so perfect. Second the actual statue really is a breathtakingly beautiful metal sculpture. Third; the engineering, which of course is fully exposed from the inside, reminded me so much of my old Navy days with the nuts and bolts and thick steel of post WW2 HM navy Aircraft carriers. The statue for a time enjoyed status as the tallest metal statue in the world, until that is, America unveiled Madame statue of Liberty. No matter, La Vierge, mother and child had a major refurbishment and paint job last year making her spotless and shiny new both inside and out.

'Le Puy' as the city is known, is, as I said very motorhome friendly with all five major car parks around the city having spaces for motorhomes. We chose the one by the station. La Vierge towered above with her back to us making for easy orientation as you walk around the old part of the city on the hillside below. In particular the Cathederal was splendid with its entry via a steep sweep of steps delivering you up, from those dark places below, to where your eyes immediately scan heaven-ward to magnificent alters, sculptures and stained glass. All this with Tanya snuggled in my arms too. No one seemed in the least bit bothered.

We had journeyed to 'Le Puy' over the high Ardeche courtesy of twisty steep minor roads. Well worth it apart from my one glaring error. We were dropping almost vertically and I was tired. Round one more impossibly tight zig zag and there it was. Straight in front of us. 'St Julian de Gua' with a small church clinging to the hillside but more importantly, a level and safe square to park Sadie right out front. Believe me it is hard sometimes in these mountainous areas to find a level'ish and safe spot to stop. I swung Sadie in just as an oldish guy wielding a bunch of keys emerged from the small, but, as I found out later, very beautiful mountainside church. In my excellent French I checked with him re camping por un nuit. He lived in the house right next to where Sadie was parked and was the curator of the church. I got a lovely smile and; 

"No problem. Ave un bon nuit."  

"Thats nice" I thought. 

It was about six forty so we settled in with first job feeding Tanya. At seven o clock the church bell, directly above us, chimed seven times. It was loud!
"Oh dear" says I. "Never mind I don't expect they ring it all through the night. Surely not".

Yes they did. Or at least the electronic bell ringer did. On time too with each half hour honored with a single chime. I heard every single reverberating ding dong chime that night but also, amazingly did sort of doze-sleep in between. Early morning arrived as M'sieur curator passed on his way to unlock the church and wished us a cheery, did I detect malicious, yes I'm sure I did, 

"Bonjour monsieur!"

"Oi! Clear off y'b*****s" 

That's me by the way shouting at a bunch of young cattle whose probing tongues and huge wet noses are getting a bit too inquisitive around Sadie. They've gone now. Frightened the b-jesus out of them I did, by suddenly emerging from Sadie waving and then opening out my umbrella. They're still stampeding, all four of them, but now over the far side of this fishing lake where I'm parked for the night. Doubt they will come back as its getting dark and they've now joined the rest of the herd and telling them their tale of woe.

"Yeeah ... go on .. go on .... you tell em .... tell em all don't go near that white thing over there. It tastes like shite and there's this bloody great big fiery bull monster comes flyin out of it all noisy and green and flappin. No kiddin, nearly had us it did. We're stayin over here with you lot now. I tell you that was Cowin well heffalumpily frightenin!!"

Must have worked. They did not come back and a very peaceful, bell free, night was enjoyed.

Andorra & France & more France.

"OK!" Says I. "We've no sat nav and we have a new country infront of us. Eeeezy peeezy eh!"  

Looking at the map it did seem pretty straight forward too with one main road running round and various zig zag smaller roads leading off to the numerous mountain resorts. Andorra is a small region born out of France and Spain granting autonomy to seven high and isolated mountain valleys and their villages. Skiing, walking, 4 x 4 excursions, and tax free shopping plus recently, 'tax haven' shady banking are its lifeblood. What I had not bargained for was threefold. The amount of traffic. The frenetic impatience of the traffic trying to get past the friggin motorhome. And finally, the 'bendy all the way' main road, apart from the high passes. Then of course the realization that Andorra is just one great big busy shopping centre.

I had no chance to look at the map which I need to do frequently. I am not good at retaining place names and the number of lefts and rights needed. No! My mind is definitely not Mrs Sat Nav. The result was;

"Ah sod it Tanya I'm hanging a left here and let's just hope for a spot to perch Sadie for the night".

Up up up we go. Then we go up a bit more and all via steep zig zags with a noisy rushing glacier fed torrent tirelessly digging an ever deeper and steeper mountain gorge seemingly, at times, underneath Sadie. We finally, puffing and panting, reach 'Civis' and thankfully just above this mountain hamlet, where the road starts to make even Sadie grunt, is a gray flattish shale floored area big enough for Sadie to park on. Phew!

The downside? As Tanya and I stretch our legs wondering how people manage in the incredibly steep mountainside houses we see from an information board we are inside the 'Parc Natural' where camping is forbidden.  

"Good job we live in a motorhome then ain't it! SEE!   Cos I ain't no camper I'm a Motorhome dweller. SEE!"

This tirade, directed at the innocuous information board seemed to work well.  Relieved, having cleared up this noticeboard error we headed back up the hill to Sadie feeling happy and secure. I felt even more secure when I saw the local police pass by in their 4x4 and not bother us.

The morning dawned and 7℃ registered on the clock/thermometer inside Sadie. Oh yes we were in the mountains alright. I opened the front windscreen blinds and let the strong morning sun shine through and warm us up.

"C'mon Tanya. Never mind washing or breakfast lets just go and walk up the road a bit in the sunshine".

 Yeah, yeah, yeah!! Midday it was when we got back! We were high in the Pyrennes. The sun was up, warming us and green mountain meadows full of flowers were beneath our feet. The snow line beckoned invitingly. What was not to like?

The path wound on up toward a snow covered ridge blazing white in the now high in the sky sun. I reluctantly decided however; at the first patch of snow, to head back. I was alone. I had no rucksack full of 'mountain stuff', my feet were in light trainers, my head was banging away with altitude affect and Tanya had to be carried over bits of the sharp shale path as one of her paws had become quite sore. And; I was desperate for a cup of tea!  What a beautiful walk though. What views and what a welcome cup of tea upon our return.

Time to move. Over the high 'Pas de la Casa' and the 'Col de Puymorens'  with  stunning views of the snow capped Pyrenean peaks. Pointless taking photographs. You just cannot capture such awe inspiring snow capped scenery with merely a glass lens on camera or mobile phone. No. The artist Godfellow painted such scenes for the intracys and emotions of the human eye, mind and heart.

Back into France after a brief stop at customs.

"Cigarettes monsieur?"
"No"
"Not even for friends?"
"No"
"Wine Monsieur. You ave wine for yourself and your friends?"
"No"
"What ave you spend your money in Andorra?"
"Gasoil, a pizza which is in the freezer if you want to look and some other groceries."
"I never ave theees before. You ad better go queek while I still believe you".
"Oh! And pleeeez, spend a leeetle more money in France eh!"

The postscript to this little 'Andorra' story is the Pizza was just about the worst Pizza I have ever bought. I'm afraid more than half of it got binned. I'd have done better spending the money on wine and fags!!

On the other hand the self made curry I have just eaten here at 'La Sousa' campsite was, even though I say it myself, bloody delicious. We're here at 'Pont du Gard' North East of Nimes. The campsite decision was a no brainer. €18.00 they wanted to park Sadie for a couple of hours while we visited this impressive piece of Roman stone engineering. €12.10 they wanted for us to park up overnight here on the campsite with all facilities. The campsite is ten minutes walk from the Pont so Tanya and I enjoyed a good walk/explore of the area. The Pont is the last, very impressive and visually beautiful, part of a Roman built aquaduct that delivered water to the city of Nimes 17 miles away. Our walk was especially enjoyed as for the last couple of days the weather has not been good. As we walked though Monsieur Sun came out to play. I made the most of it by having a dip in the lovely cool clear water of the river Gard about five hundred meters upstream but in view of the Pont. Gorgeous!

We travelled up to the Pont today from the little rural village of 'Nizas'. Carol and Graham now live there most of the time as opposed to Salisbury which is where I met Carol while out walking Tanya. Their Labrador, Baily, is young and boisterous, just a bit too much for Tanya to cope with in the spacious confines of their very French home. I enjoyed a lovely evening with them and Tanya soon got over being shut in a separate room.

There was an added bonus too. With access to good Wi Fi I was finally able to sort Mrs Sat Nav out. We are now once again, 'an item' and looking forward to travelling intimate backroads toward distant setting suns forever and ever ...... Amen!!  (Hmmmmm! Or at least till the next Co Pilot sat nav update knocks her off her perch again!)

Bought & sold

"You've sold the house!" I exclaimed.

"I thought you were going to sell and upgrade to a better Motorhome". 

I said as I shook my head trying to take in the exciting news Lenny and Win were both trying to tell me at the same time.

Like three quarters of properties in Spain Lenny and Wins lovely villa atop the mountain overlooking 'Oliva' was for sale and had been for the past five years. I hear one or two stories each week in both Spain and Portugal of people with changed life circumstances stuck with property worth a lot less than they paid for it and is unsellable. In fact the more of these sad and poignant tales I hear the more I appreciate the simplicity, financial viability and flexibility of my motorhome way of life.

What I was hearing from L & W though was very different. Out of the blue a buyer had appeared and bought their Villa for the asking price. I have to say their Villa does stand out as Lenny, being a good gardener cum all round handyman, has over time, transformed the place to a very high 'buyability' standard.

The really exciting part though was that they had sourced another villa complete with smallholding. This was a dream for both of them and one they never thought would come true. Neither have any desire to leave Spain or the church and community links they already have. So finding this new place, not too far away, is a fantastic new beginning for them both.

The other good news is there will be plenty room to park Sadie and ..... wait for this ..... the seller has agreed to chuck in his little tractor plus implements as part of the deal. A tractor ...... !!  Oh yes! I'll be back there to visit next year just you wait and see!

I left L & W busy packing and all the other stressful stuff that goes with house moves. For Sadie, Tanya and I it was time to turn North. Time to hit the busy N340 and put a few miles behind us before the day was out. Just past 'Vinaros' was where enough was enough for one day. Hang a right and within five minutes we are perched atop the crumbling cliff face overlooking the blue and breeze whipped Mediterrainian.

Next morning I am sitting outside in the sun finishing my morning cuppa when along comes another dog followed by it's owner, a tall Dutch lady. We are soon chatting, as you do, and it is soon agreed I will pop across to her Villa to meet her husband and have coffee after my planned swim / snorkell in the invitingly calm early morning sun touched sea. A good swim it was too with Tanya, as usual, keeping her distance on the pebbly beach but faithfully staying put always a few meters from where I enter the water.

Our visit to the Danish couples very smart clifftop villa turned out to be another of the story's I talked of earlier. She was tall, fit, loved her walking, birdwatching (and baby bird rescuing!) and keeping the villa in tip top condition. She loved the place and the area. He, sadly, does not now enjoy the best of health which severely limits what he, a hands on physical work type of guy, can do. He feels increasingly frustrated and isolated. So they have the villa up for sale and plan to move back permanently to Denmark rather than the present arrangement of six months Spain, six months Denmark.

Cue problems. Value well down with very few highly selective buyers available. Their property is also in the front line of the clifftop erosion zone being about forty meters back. I learned that if a property becomes less than twenty meters from the crumbling cliff edge that's it. You can stay living in it but the property reverts to state ownership and jurisdiction with very little compensation. It all adds to the difficulty and firmly places stress and worry in that place originally labelled 'dream'.

On we go, with Sadie's wheels on less crowded roads now. We settle into a quiet and secluded spot for the night on a disused road, well you could continue to drive but you would son find yourself driving into the deep waters of the 'Panta de Rialb'. One of the two large man made lakes/reservoirs on the road from 'Lleida' to 'Andorra'. With water for the taking, and  swimming (quietly in the early morning cos your not supposed to according to the half submerged sign.) I took the opportunity to give Sadie a quick wash over. My goodness some of those flies do stick. At least I have a clear windscreen now.

But I don't have Mrs Sat nav on my posh Smartphone anymore. Her bosses sent a lovely big update with all sorts of new features like intelligent memorizing of your daily commute and a new street map for Puerto Rico. (Derrrrr!) You'd have thought she'd be really pleased with all that would you not?  

Ha! 

Well, being female she without notice and with immediate effect took offence at being told to do things differently. She shut down completely instead. Nothing! Nada! No matter what I do she aint having none of it! I presume divorce papers will be e mailed shortly. Ahh well; it was good while we were together and she knows she is always welcome back once she discovers it was'nae me ordering her about. Meanwhile, for me, it's back to good old paper maps and, as has already happened, getting frequently lost.

Hot & Cool.

"Phew! Thats better Tanya, 24℃. We will maybe sleep a bit better tonight". 

I started to shut down some of Sadie's open windows. Last night in 'Cordoba', Spain, it stayed stubbornly around the 29.5./ 30℃ all night. Even driving here today the air conditioning, which only functions when the engine is running, was having a job getting Sadies interior below 30℃. I try to keep in reasonably tolerable temperatures rather than invest in an environmentally unfriendly stand alone air conditioner. However; having decided to go directly East across Spain through Seville, Cordoba and the sizzling high plains I knew it had the potential to be hot hot hot. And it was hot, hot ,hot.,

We did despite the heat do a bike ride/walk to 'La Mezquita'  in 'Cordoba'. We were not able to go inside (Doggy issue as usual.) but through its exterior grandeur plus that of the surrounding old town you gained a real sense of this city's former status. Outside of its famed centre however; it is a city, a very nice city, but a city much like any other so we only stayed the one very hot night.

A day on now and here, high in the 'Sierras del Mundo' in the depths of a large Cirque we are at the head of the 'Rio Mundo'. It is definitely cooler. We walked to where the 'Rio Mundo' begins as it gushes out from way up the cliffside and falls in wind driven spray to the rocks below. There it transforms into a conventional waterfall at the bottom of which ripples a deep and deliciously inviting pool. Irresistible! It was a very cold but invigorating skinny dip and only just in time too. As I pulled my clothes back on a couple of late visitors to this popular tourist attraction strode around the corner. Phew!

We stayed overnight but left fairly promptly in the morning just before the tourist buses began to roll in.  On, on, on across the fiercely hot interior with its mile upon mile of Olive trees, towns and villages all showing signs of hardship and decay while sadly, retail parks on the edge of these towns stretched out along the ruler straight roads like wild west clapperboard towns full of their lookalike furniture, kitchen and bed stores.

The road wound down from the high plains and as we entered 'Ontinyent'. Guess what I spotted right below us in the deep gorge? People swimming and diving into the deep clear pure water of the gorge pools. Turns out the actual gorge is virtually dry these days but this particular set of very accessible and safe pools are kept flowing by clever diversion tactics being used on various local springs. Sadie was soon tucked into a blisteringly hot, and only one available, parking spot. Steve was soon fully immersed in the crystal clear, deep blue cool water. Correctly attired I may add. There were lots of people there but in no way was it crowded. Tanya was also dipped to keep her cool.

We are not too far away now. It is 10.pm and I am waiting for Sadie to cool a little before placing my head on pillow. In heat such as we are enjoying just now Sadie tends to act like a storage heater. She soaks up the heat of the day and then of course releases it as the outside nigh time temperatures drop. Take my clothes storage cupboards above the bed for example. Plunging my hand into the neatly packed socks and jumpers is like plunging a hand into a tumble drier full of clothes a couple of minutes after it has finished its heat and dry cycle. 

I know, I know ..... you all feel so sorry for me don't you .... !!

Reality & naked reflections!

"Hang on to reality and just fully take in this moment. It's a pretty rare moment." 

I thought to myself as I listened to the Prajna-Paramita Sutra (Buddhist Heart Sutra) being sung to me by Suzy who was sitting alongside me. The sun, high in the sky warmed the smooth, pure. outgoing tide washed sand beneath us. steep cliffs behind sheltered us from the brisk and eternal South West Algarve cool breeze. In front of us sparkled the blue, cold and relatively calm Atlantic ocean. We were both slowly warming up after our naked swimming immersion in this clean, bracing and wave rocked liquid gold. For me, being half Seal, I cannot keep out of the water, cold or warm. For Suzy though this daily 'cold water therapy' was healing and supporting her recovery from years of illness as was her very presence in this beautiful area. She lived in 'Paradise', the name of her house and plot of land both of which were wild and inside out. Inside her house was like being outside with beautiful wall murals and colourful mosaics while the rampant wild vegetation of the outside held you mischievously inside it's shaded haven of sensuous enclosing warmth.

I listened meditatively as the Sutra was gently and tunefully intoned to me. For a time, where we were on the spectrum of millennia seemed optional. Sea, sand, sky, two bare humans and only two sets of footprints visible on the smooth, beige expanse of beach.

Just a few days ago I had sadly dropped Barbara off at Faro airport and promptly disappeared into this wilder part of the Algarve for a few days adjustment to once again being on my own, something I love and for the time being have no intention of changing. This was reflection time for the beautiful fun and loving time we had enjoyed together.

As I felt the warmth returning to my body and listened to the naked intonations of this ancient Sutra I sat cross-legged and meditatively upright on smooth buttock imprinted sand. I could do no more than trust myself completely to the process and to the Universe, so benignly all about and cradling me. This was too big for a mere conscious and socially polluted human brain to make sense of. My full trust was given over unerringly to my unconscious and the unbelievably subtle and vast connection it enjoys with 'all that is'. Years of study and meditative practice were now bearing fruit. Right way / right path would appear, would show itself. I need not concern myself about that.

We rested as the warm rays of morning sun gained strength and the body's core finally decided it was safe enough to allow warm blood to flow to sea cold skin. Cold water therapy works on the principle of body being forced into optimal performance via the shock change from temperate air to cold water Done regularly, body and mind systems gain robustness and wellbeing. Works for me every time. I love the suffusion of good overall feelings that instantly arrive once the second or two of fear and shock of full immersion pass. As Suzy explained this therapy, a first for me, the beach was populating. A young naked family to our left with the toddler offering handfuls of sand to Tanya, who much to everyone's amusement, were carefully sniffed at before being rejected. To our right a very large elderly and brown as berries Portuguese couple giving another naked aspect to consider and reflect upon.

We slowly walked from the growing population on the beach and parted company at Sadie. It was time for me to move on. Sadie was eager, prepared and ready to roll slowly up the very rough track and transport us to our next adventure.

And the comparison. Well here I am now in the lap of luxury. I'm poolside in hot hot sunshine at Ian and Aju's very plush holiday apartment in the golf resort of Vilamoura. The complex is virtually empty and so far I have enjoyed multiple cooling swims having the huge clear blue cool pool all to myself. Once again. Heaven.

My exposure to the beautiful Heart Sutra has been noted however. 'Ashima's' hauntingly beautiful version, courtesy of Google Play store, is now quietly playing in the background on my smart-phone as I write this.

Thank you 'all that is' for two very different but equally reflective and beneficial experiences.

 

Borderia Beach

What a cracking beach it is too. Rocky cliffs being continually battered by the Atlantic swell are to my back offering enticing walks. To my front in the distance is a huge wide sandy beach with foaming white and blue rolling waves sweeping it billiard table smooth. A large sand spit rooted in acres of sand dunes is stopped by the rising cliffs and separated from them by a freshwater outflow. This has formed a large and shallow lake between the big car park where I and several others are and the sandspit.

A bracing fight with cold, furious and foaming Atlantic rollers followed by a gentle dip in the warm freshwater lake rinses off the salt and places me firmly in Heaven!  Even Tanya without too much fuss swam halfway across the lake. Mind you I had to wade waist deep alongside  and encourage her to keep going but she did it and seemed really pleased with herself as she dashed through the shallows and raced like a mad thing up and down the large sandspit.

Early in the morning is simply gorgeous. Before the land heats up and the cool onshore breeze starts to assert itself. I have to admit this mornings early doors skinny dip was definitely preferable to conventional washing!

This is a part of west coast Algarve I have not explored before. While Barbara was here we did a little of it just above Sagres. We found a lovely surf beach full of topless young things and surfers of various ability skimming down the short sharp steep waves. The motorhome had to be parked some way away though so we headed inland across the rural tracks and enjoyed a night in empty but beautiful countryside.

This place though .... well in some way it is a bit poignant as I know just how Barbara would have loved it. Next time Barbara. Next time.

Flood

"Bow wave?" I thought. CLUNK .... JERK ..... DEAD STOP. "Shit!" I loudly exclaimed as the enormity of our sudden and unexpected dilemma dramatically hit home.

The weather, it being Easter n all that, had turned very wet. We were on our way down to the coast from the hilltop village and tourist stop of 'Monchique'. All in all things were going very well. We had enjoyed bike rides, swimming and snorkelling. A real highlight had been wild camping alongside a rural track in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the wild colours, sounds and scents of a flowering Portuguese spring. Such delights had been ours this last couple of sun blessed weeks. But now, Easter Sunday, the rain was tumultuous so we were happily and slowly wending our way to lower and drier levels.

There was a flood under a bridge which at first glance did not look too bad and certainly no worse than Sadie and I had forded through before. 

"Slowly does it" I thought as Sadie crept along. 

We were halfway through when I noticed we were making a bow wave in front of us. Now, the noticing of a bow wave being pushed up in front of a vehicle designed to travel on dry land is good and sort of OK. Unfortunately; 'the noticing' is a sluggish psychological process which is usually some way behind the action taking place in front of your eyes. This of course is not good, not good at all! Sadies big five cylinder diesel engine relies totally on receiving large quantities of dry clean air. Her air intake was now below the bow wave and had efficiently sucked into her engine a healthy slug of water. This had immediately stopped her dead. Simultaneously my brain, which contains years of knowledge and useless information about engines, registered with alarm the catastrophic consequences of said slug of water entering such a precision reliant mechanism as Sadie's large hot five cylinder turbocharged diesel engine

I turned to Barbara and said gloomily. "That's the engine well and truly f****d then!"

I kicked off my footwear and stepped outside to assess the situation. The water was knee deep and lapping at Sadie's entry step. I noticed a youngish tall guy beckoning me over while at the same time speaking into his mobile phone. As I paddled out of the water toward him he said in good English. 

"You got rope? My friend coming back, he pull you out." 

Sure enough edging toward the water a few minutes later was his friends Jeep complete with wife and young child sitting bemused inside. The ropes were soon attached and Sadie emerged from the flood onto the dry road.

That, however, was not the end. Listen to the rest of this story and then tell me who is one very very lucky old codger!

Turns out these two guys were lorry mechanics and really knew their stuff. In seconds Sadies bonnett was up, air hoses were being disconnected and a soggy wet air filter was pronounced as 'No good, need buy new.'  I was then instructed to sit in the drivers seat and occasionally give the engine a flick with the starter motor. They meanwhile rocked Sadie back and forth with her in 5th gear. 

"You must put in 5th gear!" They shouted in unison" 

Sadie's engine was finally cleared of water and able to turn over easily and start. And miracle of miracles she did start. She burst back into life and I just about burst into tears. I could not believe our good fortune. Easter Sunday, a foreign country, a flooded bridge out in the countryside and two Guardian Angel lorry mechanics there on site to assist the crazy tourist who drives a motorhome like he thinks he's got a Sunseeker luxury powerboat!!

I was instructed to drive slowly to our destination, about ten kilometers, and then go to the Mercedes Benz main dealer the next day to finish the job properly. I thrust a generous Euro note into each of their protesting hands before limping slowly away in Sadie with her compromised non turbo charged engine. The air hoses, and turbocharger had been left unconnected to drain out and dry.

I was shattered both mentally and physically when we reached 'Alvor', our stop for the night. To be then cared for and have dinner cooked for me by Barbara was very very special. Especially after she had been suddenly and dramatically told her shared holiday home was, in effect, f****d by her host, a thunderously doom and gloom bearded ancient idiot motorhome driver. An experience that was deeply traumatising for her as well. Thank you Barbara.

We were at the Mercedes Benz dealer early next day. They were excellent and remarkably good value too. Yup! The miracles just kept coming!  I mean .... Mercedes main dealer? Good value? Hah! in the UK you'd need to take out a mortgage if you so much as coughed in one of those places! But here in Portugal we left 2 hours later with a fully functional, fully checked, electronically diagnosed, and all thumbs up raring to go Sadie.

Another day and another story but more to the point. Another example of ..... There is summmat, out there, lookin after me. All I can do is say ..... Thank you soooooo much.

Barbara and I had a bet as to what the garage bill would be. We were happily both way out with our guesses. Even so Barbara was the loser being off the mark even more than me. She was quite happy to stick to the agreement and duly paid for the celebratory meal.

Sadly Barbara is now safely back, courtesy of Ryanair, to her country cottage near 'St Andrews' in Scotland. I can truly say we had a wonderful three weeks and both Tanya and I are tonight missing her a lot. Sadie seems somehow empty.

Special K (with chocolate curls!) & tripping up.

I could not help but laugh with Barbara again as her face convulsed and tears rolled down her cheeks as she recalled the 'tripping' incident of the previous night.

We were at 'Sagres' parked behind Phil and Linda's Burstner Motorhome. I'd first met Phil and Linda last year in Spain. A few days ago in 'Alvor' they had recognized Tanya and called us over. We met them again at our wild spot near 'Lagos' where they assisted in fending off the continuous begging from the local 'travelling people'.

Phil and Linda were enjoying their 'meal in' as we set off to sample an evening meal out at the local 'Sagres' surfers beach restaurant. We knocked on their door on our return, the agreed signal for them to join us shortly for an evening drink.

Now a motorhome is simply a house condensed into a very small space. Upon entering Sadie our immediate task was to 'move' things, which loosely translates as 'chuck stuff on the bed'. This of course to make room for our guests. I lifted the basket of 'stuff' which lives on the bench seat, swung round to take two paces toward the bed. Next thing I am sprawled head-first upon bed with head half in basket. Blue, denim jean clad legs, according to the convulsed with laughter Barbara, were waving around horizontally and alarmingly.

"What the ..... who the hell put my toolbox there .... First rule of motorhoming is NEVER EVER BLOCK THE FLOOR SPACE!!'' 

This was my furious repost as I regained my feet and stupified, stared vacantly at my toolbox neatly placed on the floor in front of the bed. With pointed wagging finger this now very angry bearded apparition rounded on the culprit only to be faced with a Barbara doubled up with laughter, cheeks glistening with tears and not far off an incident involving the lower regions.

Phil and Linda then announced their arrival at our open doorway which meant the whole story had to be re-canted by the virtually incoherent with mirth Barbara. Phil joined me in the highly male ritual of 'Hmmmph!' Which is the delicate and nigh on impossible transition of male red rage anger into desperate and futile face saving justification when faced with overwhelming, and frighteningly mysterious, female humour. Linda meanwhile 'getting it wholeheartedly' was by now laughing too as the sorry tale of the fuming angry horizontal leg waving bearded motorhomer unfolded.

Overall it was a good start to what turned out to be a lovely evening and a farewell to our friends as they started to head North the next day.

We meanwhile headed for the local 'Supermercado' to stock up the dwindling food supply. All went well until I made the mistake of allowing Barbara freedom to roam. She found the breakfast cereal aisle. I knew immediately we were in trouble as her unmistakable whoop of delight echoed around the supermarket. I arrived as the shelf was being cleared of the unavailable in the UK 'Kellogs Special K with chocolate curls.'

Special K with Chocolate curl (SKCC) addiction is a growing problem across Europe and Barbara, a vulnerable victim, and totally unaware of the lethal and lifelong consequences had tucked into her first milk soaked bowl of SKCC a year ago in Paris. This unexpected fresh exposure brought on a total relapse undoing all the good work SKCC anonymous had achieved over the past year.

Strong action was needed. A threat to report her to the GNR (Portuguese gun toting police) was thankfully enough to allow me to replace all but two boxes. These days, due to the explosive expansion of SKCC use across society, two boxes per shopping trolley is tolerated by the GNR. However; the strange and far away look in her eyes plus the way she clutched tightly to the supermarket trolley reminded me of the injuries I sustained the last time I tried to touch those two allowable boxes.

She is now doing OK after phoning her SKCC anonymous buddy. It's a bit like handling an eggshell first thing in the morning but once she has consumed her morning fix she becomes the Barbara I know from an un-addicted past life. The daily scrumptious Greek yoghurt recommended by her buddy seems to be helping too with her relapsing only once so far into more than one bowl a day.

But overall, and pushing aside for once, the joint crazy humour we both enjoy, Barbara, Tanya and I have been enjoying a wonderful sun blessed time here in the Algarve. She will be missed.