Cold but Snuggly

Wild camping, or being off grid as far as electricity goes can sometimes be challenging. In particular as winter approaches and requires a big draw on my twelve volt batteries just to keep warm. New technologies, for example; Lithium, largely solve the problem but are horrendously expensive. I'm afraid my budget will only stretch to the standard, albeit well tried and tested, Lead Acid batteries. Used correctly and sensibly these give me all the power I need but do need charging either by the solar panel or by driving so the engine charges them. What this way of life has made me aware of is how as a householder I took electricity  plus all its gadgetry for granted. I am a very enviromentally friendly user of electric power now. If I'm not then Foxy10's control panel in her lofty position above the door, simply bleeps at me and promptly turns all power off. She says to me. "I'm moving to emergency save the battery mode and you can go freeze yourself!"

This morning's bleep was the second such case. The first was during two days of heavy rain while Barbara was with me. Not the best way to introduce a sophisticated member of the feminine persuasion to a cold dark wet SW Ireland. I can assure you Foxy10's engine was promptly started and batteries re-charged.

The problem does have a solution. As usual it means more expense as Foxy10's batteries are well past their two/three year sell/use by date and need replacing.

Right now though I am snug and warm at my son's house where Foxy10 is plugged into mains electricity. These days I regard the infrequent times I am 'mains connected' as a real luxury, something to be appreciated and used sparingly and with caution. I mean .... I might get to like it too much.
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Well this has been a remarkable Autumn. All the way to Ireland and back to Wales over a six week period with virtually no rain, very mild, and with gentle breezes. Bearing in mind the simple fact that travelling Westerly, ie; toward the Atlantic, historically has meant wet, wet and more wet, a moment or two of reflection upon such good fortune and benevolence from Universe is called for and will be given.

I move on Eastwards tomorrow. I Leave behind my contribution to the renovation work on the large X pub my Stepdaughter and partner now live in. I take with me matt white paint liberally distributed over hands and overalls and fond memories of evenings in front of the large log fire with toddler Mabel cuddling up to Tanya who, incidentally, was more affected by the crackling of the sizzling logs in the fire than by the firework displays going on all around.
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On to visit Cousins in Gloucester and other friends. The weather turned very cold but Foxy10 is snuggly warm. Definitely an improvement on Sadie Changing the batteries has solved the power shortage problem too. Waking up in the morning with a zero tempature is still not nice but the speed at which Foxy's efficient little central heating boiler provides snuggly warmth is impressive.

Mind you; hot or freezing cold, waking up on 'Trump' morning and hearing the news was pretty damm tough. After the shocks of (thwarted) Scottish independance, Labour devastation, horribly insensitve right wing Tories and Brexit I should be used to it by now. To me the pattern seems to be full scale revolution via the ballot box. I hope and pray it stays that way and does not move into full scale blood letting, which, recent history has showed us, is always a possibility.

Maybe I ought to get my motorhome re-sprayed in camofluage green and brown just in case I gotta hide away in some thickly wooded valley deep within that awful place called Europe. 

Ho Hum Eh!

Ireland

"I know him, its Pete!" Exclaimed Barbara as she unexpectedly gripped my arm from her perch on the high stool next to mine. I looked and listened with increased attention to the heartfelt rendering of 'Margarita' by Pete plus guitar at the front of this intimate gathering here in 'Dingle music shop', Southwest Irelands capital of traditional Irish music.

At the end of the concert, and in particular the hauntingly beautiful fiddle playing by well known artist 'Maire Breatnach' (try the cd:- Voyage of Bran) Barbara made a beeline through the crowd and by the time I caught up with her both Pete and herself were, with astonishment, meeting up again eight years on from their last encounter in far off Liverpool.

I love this world I inhabit where Universe and its infinite creative magnitude continually presents unexpected and beautiful moments. A moment where  two people meet up again and discover that previous lost contact was not the imaginary scenario created at the time but instead merely an internet glitch.

I wonder, in this age of communal electronic wizardry, how many times such a 'glitch' ends a supportive, beneficial or indeed loving contact between two people?
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From Dingle to 'Blennerville' and its restored and working windmill. Also, and I feel more importantly, its museum giving the history of emigration & famine. A very familiar theme in both Ireland & Scotland (called the clearances in Scotland and still evident in the empty Glens and hills.) but somehow, here in Ireland, made very 'now' as we continually bumped into Americans back in the 'old country' to see how their recent ancestors lived.

Here's a quote from Stephen De Vere from Limerick. A steerage passenger in 1847 on one of the 'emigree' boats. They became known as coffin ships.

"Hundreds of poor people huddled together without air, without light, wallowing in filth and breathing a fetid atmosphere, sick in heart, dispirited in body. The fevered patients lying between the sound in sleeping spaces so narrow as almost to deny them the power of indulging, by change of position, the natural restlessness of their disease:..... living without food or medicine, except as administered by the hand of casual charity, dying without the voice of spiritual consolation, and buried in the deep without the rites of the church".

Sound familiar? Think Mediterranean refugees happening now. Then, as now, caused by ruling elites, corporations, religions or family's placing greed/profit as a value way above mere human being.

I am reminded of one of my farmer customers in Gloucestershire of many years ago. His greeting was always the same and as true now as ever. His was an old, bent, tough as his stout leather boots body when I dealt with him. As he leaned on his thumb stick and turned his weatherworn cattle dealer face toward me he would say;

"Whaats about then Steve my boy. Keeps goin around dont it".

It certainly seems so. Just round and round and round. Names and technology may change some but the roundabout is still the same.
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Barbara has now flown home with good memories of her Irish visit plus a highly satisfactory rating, agreed by both of us, in regard to living and travelling as a couple in Foxy 10. We were lucky with the weather too. A couple days of heavy rain on the 'Kerry Ring', offset by visiting the 'Skelligs Chocolate Experience', with dry, mild sunshine & cloud the rest of the time.

Highlights:- Overnighting on the edge of 'Muckross Park' Killarney in the middle of a night-long confrontation of rutting and roaring red deer stags.

The 'Skelligs and The Blaskets' visitor centres. Veritable mines of information of a way of life, and of being, desirable in its simplicity and yet awesome in its harshness and isolation.

And finally:- Treasure hunting on the beach with Kaden for mother of pearl shells which Barbara deftly crafted into necklace pendants for Justine, Keith and birthday girl Aunty B.

I will stay on for a time and help out where I can with Grampy sitting duties for my lively but delightful Grandson Kaden.

"Grampy Steve, Grampy Steve. I need a pee, can we go to your motorhome to have a pee. Tanya can come too Grampy Steve".

The fascination of a motorhome chemical toilet with electronic flush eh! Gets em all the time!

"Come on then .... no Kaden, just press the flush button once .... no don't hold it on .... yes OK you can put Tanya on her lead .........".

Music & a lazy Sunday

Not the best of mornings just now. I'm having a slow 'coming to' morning after a special night out at Strathkiness Tavern where Birthday girl Barbara and I enjoyed a delicious meal. A local ad hoc group of Scottish folk musicians and singers gather in the bar every Monday night which is where we retired to after the meal. They even, without too much persuasion, coaxed a song from Barbara. All in all a very enjoyable Barbara Birthday and continuation of the Scottish Fiddle, Accordian and folk music scene in general which has been the underlying theme of my 2016 yearly stay here in Fife.

I accompanied Barbara to Cupar last week where she was playing at the local park bandstand with the 'Billy Anderson Kilrymont Accordion and Fiddle band. During the concert I walked Tanya around the park and got into conversation with a couple enjoying their lunch in the sunshine.
"Oh yes!" I said in answer to their question about renumeration for playing in such a prestigious band.
"Think twenty then add three zeros".
"Really". They answered, sandwiches paused in mid air and eyes firmly fixed in my direction.
"Yes, three gigs with zero payment and one end of season cheque for twenty pounds". I replied.
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The weather here has been fantastic with virtually no rain for the last three weeks. The garden has been modified and tidied, the shed painted and lots of time  spent sitting out front in the sunshine. This cottage is not called 'Sunnybraes' for nothing.
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We are now moving west where rain has once again welcomed us. We have resigned ourselves to sharing rain and sunshine as we head toward a ferry to Belfast thence onward to Ireland and Grandson Kaden way down in Co Kerry. Barbara is travelling with me so Foxy10 is getting a good two person shake down. I have to say she is doing really well giving us both the familiarity and quality expected of a high quality French built Rapido plus greatly improved social area, quality of ride and overall warmer and cosier Motorhome.

The fridge is functioning perfectly now too after my earlier visit to Knowepark Motorhome dealers near Livingstone. They seriously blasted out the gas burner flue at the back of the fridge with an air hose. Lets just say the amount of sh*t that headed for the atmosphere was a pretty good clue as to why Mrs fridge was struggling to operate efficiently. Thanks guys. Good job done.

Simple pleasures are great. Today has been a simple pleasure/lazy Sunday. Wild we are, at the end of a tiny no entry road not far from East Kilbride. The day has been a mixture of sunshine and showers with us enjoying a late breakfast, leisurely showering/grooming before walking to the local garden centre for lunch. Tanya got a treat while we were there too. A sensibly sized knitted woollen coat for the cold nights ahead. Our afternoon proved productive with Barbara generously donating her needle skills and shortening curtains plus elasticating headrest covers. I meanwhile delved headfirst into the large underbed garage area to re position a light fitting.

All exciting and simple motorhoming pleasures designed specifically for the clinically certified elderly wandering itinerents of this world. Who, incidentally, at the end of this 'simple pleasure' day really appreciated a  delicious 'motorhome cooked' fish and veggie kedgeree supper accompanied by good music on Radio 2.

All in all a most enjoyable day.

Mirrors, Confidence & Grandaughters

I saw the plastic skid across the road via my rear view wing mirror which did not seem to be damaged at all from the impact with this 'other' mirror. I also saw the 4x4 slow and stop.

"Shite" I muttered as I brought Foxy 10 to a stop in a conveniantly situated car park. I was driving the narrow and busy road along the Eastern shoreline of  Loch Lomond. I left Tanya inside Foxy 10 as I walked back to the stricken 4x4 to be met by a scowly faced and not in a good mood lady driver. Such a face put me on my guard .

I'm learning the hard way that Foxy10's wing mirrors have the potential to be lethal weapons. They sit on the end of extended arms which are conveniantly at the height of virtually all other similar sized vehicle mirror assemblies.

"Wing mirrors eh! A hazard of modern day motoring don't you think?" My jovial testing of the waters only whipped up stormy waters and increased scowliness.

"I've been driving this road for 20 years and never had an accident in all that time!!". Came testily at me from the reddened, scowly and not amused face.

"Well I did notice you were well out in the road, not leaving me much space". I replied deciding I may as well attack as there was going to be no shrugging of shoulders and 'ah well, these things happen' end to this incident.

I re-assembled her mirror with help of Gaffer tape (your not a motorhomer if you don't carry Gaffer tape) while she wrote down my registration number and requested my name. I, with difficulty, held back the 'fer f***s sake lady, its a wing mirror, get over it'. I could not however; resist the temptation, when asked frostily for my post code to reply by pointing to Foxy10 and uttering the immortal words "I live there lady, I'm of No Fixed Abode". The scowly face stared, turned purple, muttered something incomprehensible, climbed back in her 4x4 and drove off.

Could take a while but I got a feeling there will be an insurance company seeking me out sometime.

The day did improve. Ten minutes further on Cashell, 'Forest for a thousand years', welcomed us with dull but dry skies. My dear wife Kate lies here. A pleasant walk up the steep forest track was enjoyed by Tanya and myself before some silence and reflection in this most beautiful of spots overlooking Loch Lomond, its islands and Luss Hill beyond. A hill Kate and I walked many times.

The day remained benevolent saving the rain until we were safe and dry inside a once again rolling Foxy10. And rain it did. All the way to our destination of West Sands alongside St Andrews famous golf links where the skies cleared and granted us a warm, dry and patchy blue sky evening. Oh! So good to be once again walking barefoot amid sun, sand, waves & wind.
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Several days later now and I think I have writers block. Or maybe as I listen and be with family, friends and old work colleagues I realise my life, compared to theirs, even though on the outside my life looks escapist and glamorous, is, in reality nothing more than an old man living on his own with a small dog in a white van and doing little else. Pretty boring really. Not to me you understand, I still enjoy the lifestyle even though as the years go by I am finding it increasingly difficult to relate to the pace and tumult of quote; normal life. Unquote.

My recent trip into Glasgow is an example of this.  The Crown Plaza Hotel, right on the waterfront opposite the BBC and the Science Centre graciously allowed me to stay overnight in their car park in order I might attend the labour party hustings with Jeremy Corbyn and Owen Smith. Never mind the politics. We'll stay well clear of that minefield. 

Affecting me was the fact a guy, not disimilar in looks and of the exact same age as myself was up there, centre stage, giving it his all and fighting for the second time a leadership battle against his own party plus every dirty trick that party can think up and throw at him. I'm not him, I know that, but I am of the same generation and like him have walked the same history. I returned  to Foxy10 humbled. I needed some quite and reflective time to arrive back at myself. I needed reminding that brilliant white light only happens through every colour of the rainbow playing their equal, unseen, individual and vitally important role.
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After such excitement plus various appointments with Doctors, Dentists and Vets it was time for a couple of days out wild. Especially as being continually and soundly thrashed at Dominoes by my grandaughter had pushed my wise and skilled grampy self confidence to a previously unheard of low. I suppose I just have to be thankful that Becca, the youngest of my Scottish grandaughters is as bad as I am at playing the Blues Harp. Not a nice sound but a wee compensation!!

'Wild' equated to a beautiful Woodland park tucked snuggly under the steep and dominant Ochill hills. We were between Alva and Tillicoultry enjoying the stunning views across the river Forth. The area is riddled with good walking paths liberally spattered with good quality doggy sniffs. Tanya was in paradise.

Confidence returned. Fridge is nearly empty. Babara and St Andrews here we come once again but this time for a longer stay.

Foxy10 has arrived!

Foxy10 is also a Rapido. Shinier, newer, different and veeeerrry nice to drive. The changeover process was not easy but armed with good information and after doing all the research Barbara accompanied me on a 4 day trip to Great Yarmouth and Nottingham to view the two Rapido motorhomes that were 'best fit' to my criteria. Barbara supportive as ever was the perfect foil to my anxieties and worries over this big decision. Especially when I became rather enthusiastic over a brand new Rapido PSV. These are conversions of large delivery vans complete with the big sliding door on the side. This V36 conversion was the best I have come across and for a time I was convinced and really wanted it. They are smaller though and serious compromise would have been the name of the game if I had gone down that route. We talked it over and decided to go on to Nottingham and view the other motorhome, a Rapido 776ff. Well; Oaktree Motorhomes came up trumps. An immaculate vehicle, roomy plus all the storage space I need to continue my fulltime and much loved four season motorhome life. 

So, and to cut a long story short, here I am again, back at the beginning of my journey, deja vu. I am Once again staring at a huge shiny white thing on four wheels while at the same time psychological mind, with accompanying fear and horror, is noticing the gaping black hole in my bank balance. Ahhhh well. Live life to the full eh!

Saying goodbye to Sadie was mentally and emotionally hard. The time was right though. She had high mileage, was 12yrs old with developing 'issues' (let's say no more on that one) and needed an easier life. I am just so grateful for the wonderful home and amazing adventures she bequeathed me these past 5 years. Safe journey Sadie. May your wheels roll on and continue to give pleasure for some years yet.

I am currently overnighting here in Wales below the 'Garreg Ddu' dam at the 'Elan valley' visitor centre. A lovely flat grassy area where for £2.00 they tolerate 'responsible and sensitive to the surroundings' wild camping. Rain is the 'in' thing here. 1830 millmetres per year as compared with London, 595 and Endinburgh 676 millimetres. Tanya and I did receive our share of it on our resevoir/hill walk this afternoon. But spoil our first night out wild where cooking has been involved it did not. All went extremely well with my bacon, egg, onion, mushroom, nut and wild rice Paella. I'm now sitting in the swivelled round drivers seat, feet up on the generous bench seat with cup of tea close at hand on the fancy folding and move anywhere pedestal table. I tell you, it is most comfy indeed. Unfortunately, and in this respect Foxy10 is the same as Sadie, there is no maid to do the washing up. I do however; have a double sink..... wooooohooooo.... which as yet, I cant quite figure out whether it is an advantage or not.

Tanya is settling into her new home too. We've still some work to do on organising her travelling seat and she has forgiven me the first attempt which unceremoniously collapsed depositing her neatly half in and half out of the passenger door pocket where she had to stay uncomfortably wedged in until I found a conveniant lay by to pull into.
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I knew it would'nt last, the good fortune with Foxy 10. We've hit our first major problem which requires a trip back to Oaktree Motorhomes at Nottingham. Because I am wild camping most of the time my large fridge runs mainly on gas. It has its own little burner which does 'stuff' to the refrigerant gas which in turn keeps the fridge cool. A gas burner has an exhaust which is vented to the outside. Unfortunately some of that smelly and decidedly unhealthy exhaust emission is leaking inside Foxy's habitation area. Not good. Not good at all. I was plagued with fridge 'incidents' during Sadie's life. Now it looks as though the theme is going to continue with Foxy 10.

I'm due at Oaktree Motorhomes August 8, just over a week from now. Meanwhile I guess it's going to be a week of overalls on to give Lloyd and Emily a hand renovating their large listed building X pub here in Talley, Carmarthenshire. I think I am down for paint stripping tomorrow.

Oh boy! ...... Oh Joy!
(Smiling really ..... !)

Reality & Sadie has to go!

A wee reality check here. This motorhoming life is good and I love it but it also comes with its own set of obstacles and problems equalling, shall we say, more normal ways of living in this topsy turvy world of ours. Take this morning for instance. I'm at a small French Aire on the edge of 'Riberac' which between the storms last night I discovered has a dead campsite, a working abbattoir and from my short damp walk about the place not much else. It's still raining this morning and the ongoing investigation into Sadies LH front rattle has uncovered rather more serious problems which, and I touch wood here, will hopefully hold together until I get back to the UK. Not good and definitely decision time. So I swich my attention to Mrs Sat Nav and request she please calculate a 'speedy' main road, route North. "Route not found" is all her curt and precise feminine vocality will spit out. In a fit of petulance plus a small dose of 'poor me' I reply to her. "Thanks. Thanks for nothing. Like thanks Mrs S N for Not being there when I need you!"

There is one bright light. I've plenty of gas and need to lighten Sadie by jettisoning some water. What better way to do it than via a long hot shower. Then it's North, using good old paper maps again, unless, Mrs Sat Nav decides to wake up and navigate once we actually get moving. One can only hope and invoke Universal power to be kind and Universal mischief to lay off some.
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Well I am happy to report Universe has been kind to me today. Mrs Sat Nav did come back to life shortly after we started moving. However; she also had a fit of petulance and promptly directed us down the smallest road possible even though she was set for fast main roads.
So a bit more TLC (ie: re-setting her' bits') for the lady resulting in faster and less bumpy (equalling less rattles) main road travel. I much prefer our normal meandering and easy going pace down small roads but they are rougher and put more stress and strain on Sadie.
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Even better news now. I have stopped the omminous "I'm gonna seriously crack up on you in a minute' cracks and rattles. The structural problem I have unfortunately uncovered is still there and no less serious. But it is, I think, fixable. I cannot fix it permantly while on the road but with modified philips screwdriver, my well honed skills as a contortionist and a robust dialogue of poetic unrepeatable language I have effected a successful temporary fix.
Phew!!!
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So now here we are in the middle of a more relaxed morning at 'Haute Peniston'. Breakfast dishes are unwashed, as is myself, but with major disaster averted, for the moment, I have eased off slightly from panic mode. I am gazing out at the 'Moule' (mussell) farms comprised of rows and rows of stark black upright posts only viewable at low tide. Mr Moule and his numerous mates live and grow on these very posts. The morning is dull, misty in fact, but improving as the day ages. The tractors arriving early and towing their 'Moule farm working boats' woke me whereupon tea was brewed and slowly sipped as I leisurely watched the activity from my comfy bed.

Yes. I will miss you Sadie when you go. Yes. I am afraid so. She has to go. A decision had to be made and that decision is to trade Sadie in for a later model. I tell you I feel like a traitor just writing this down. Unfortunately the time has arrived. Sentiment has to be put firmly aside. I'll have enough of a job coping with difficult sentiment as I take the hit of a vastly reduced valuation due to 'the problem', which is, without doubt going to be picked up by any competant trader. It will mean severe compromise on my ideal 'Sadie number two. I could perhaps effect a quick fix, sell privately and maybe gain a few thousand. Ethically though; that is not me. Whatever I gain is not the immeasurable thousands I gain from having a clear, unfettered conscience.

I did call in to a French Motorhome dealer and had a look around. Veeeeery nice & much cheaper too. Need to research that option a bit more.

OK. Time for action. Not hurried though. My only deadline today is this afternoons Vetinary appointment for Tanya. She has to be checked and 'certificated' before we board the Cherbourg to Poole ferry next Monday evening. Then a few more clicks (kilometres) to 'Maure de Bretagne'. Which is where I am this very moment writing up this blog. Nice little Aire here. A Tanya Aire. In a park with a lake so loads of doggy sniffs. France in general from my observation is definitely looking a little run down. Certainly more so than when I first started my regular visiting five years ago. I admire the French workers in their struggle and I have a lot of time for how their country runs and how the population are more evenly distributed between rural and city. What to do I don't know but I hope they can sort it out without resort to too much violence.

Ferry booked so back in UK late Monday night. Bit of a different and uncertain time ahead of me but I still hope somehow to get round all my Grandchildren before years end.

Keep breathing deep & easy Steve.
Y'know y'self that if you do
Confusion plus all his mates pack their bags and leave.

Catholic, Budhist plus Meccano

'Montferrand'. Nothing special. Just a tiny 'Cotswold' like hamlet somewhere between 'Rocamadour' where I left this morning, and 'Eymet' where I am headed. "Ile est tranqueeeel". We are parked up in a tiny space by the church. There is nobody around and it is a very still breathlessly warm evening. Humid too. There is a tall wall and Sadie is tucked up against it. Above the wall, presumably the bottom of someones garden, is a bamboo grove towering above us. The bamboo is musically knocking against its neighbour as the birds flutter about its depths. Apart from musical bamboo, and now at nearly ten pm when the timer has stopped ringing the church bells, it is so quiet I can still just hear the humming of the bees nest inside the window of the old building not six feet from Sadies open window. The only slight block on this picture of perfection ....... the washing up is still to do. Ah well; it was a lovely meal and there is enough for tomorrow night too. Best get on with it I suppose. It is one of my rules. Washing up done and everything put away before bed. You just never know when or if you may have to make a hasty get away. It has never happened yet but the night I decide to leave the dishes...... Well; I don't think you need me to tell the inevitable end to that story.

'Rocamadour' was where we had left. Fascinating Rocamadour clinging to its cliff with the steep ziggy zaggy walk down from the Chateaux, where we were parked, to the beautiful pilgrimage church and touristy town below. It is a walk where the Catholic 'Stations of the Cross' are at every sharp turn. They are common all over France and Spain depicting very accurately the human journey. The fact we pick up our cross, burden, or life problems and then, if we don't learn to let them go as and when they make us fall, or as friends and family advise or try to help and support then sure as sure is sure, we crucify ourselves. They are an uncannily accurate depiction in respect of substance mis-users.

It was very wet when we arrived so wet gear came out and we enjoyed a good nose round all the 'tourist tat shops' as I call them, plus a time of reflection in the beautiful chapel and of course back up ziggy zaggy path with more reflections assisted by the well illuminated 'stations' at every zig and zag. Yes; I've certainly picked up a few cross's, or rucksacks as I prefer to call them, on my life's journey. Thankfully, for all the reasons so well alluded to by 'the stations' I have thus far managed to avoid martyring/crucifying myself. However: there is still time......!

The rain was persistent. All books on my Kindle are now read. All DVD's watched, tea consumed, washing up done and still only half past seven. Nothing for it then but to delve in the rear cupboards and pull out Barbara's birthday present to me. 'Meccano set in a tin'. On opening I saw there were three packaged sets with labels on pertaining to the item to be assembled according to the instruction sheet. Hmmph! That is not how Meccano works. I felt much happier when contents of said packages had been randomely dumped with satisfyingly muddled rattle in bottom of tin.
"Now let's see what we can create eh Tanya!"
The picture is of my 'Harly Meccanoson airo Batmotrike'. Not bad eh? I even plonked a piccy of it on facebook with the caption. 'It is official. Now I know I am bonkers'. There was a quick response from a 'facebook friend' questioning the word 'Now'. Cheek eh.

Another Pilgrimage to a place close to heart and mind and now almost an obligatory stopover on my way back to the UK. PLUM VILLAGE. Buddhist monastry and Mindfulness retreat/training centre. I stay at 'upper hamlet', the mens retreat centre which is also home to Thai himself. (Thic Nhat Han)

I practice and read the Dharma (teachings) regularly in my own individualistic way and have done so  for many years. Their psyhcological common sense and wisdom strongly informed my years of counselling practice. I was offering meditation/breathing meditation long before it garnered the fashionable term 'Mindfulness'.

However: the opportunity, for a short time, to practice/be immersed with the 'Sangha' (community) is always a privilege. This visit was no exception. Wonderful meeting of minds, exquisite organic veggie food, walking meditation in warm sunshine and beautiful surroundings plus a spirit enhancing bonus. Thai himself, now a frail wheelchair using stroke affected elder, appeared amidst us, his Sangha, at evening meditation practice. For me this was a deeply touching, very special and practice encouraging unexpected gift. Thank you Plum Village.

I have promised myself once the Tanya and I meditative practice time completes its full course then Plum Village will see me for a full term Retreat.

Bergerac right now. Thunder, lightning and rain hammering on Sadies roof. It has been a wonderful day though. Very very hot & some sadness as we drove away from Plum Village. Reality however; quickly stepped in to address any lingering sadness. Yup you got it. Bloody annoyingly loud "I'm sure that windows gonna bust" crack started up again as soon as I moved.
"Well Tanya. Which bit can I remove now to see if that makes any difference?"

James & then Paradox.

"This is much better Tanya" I said as I emerged dripping from the cool deep pool at the edge of a swiftly flowing 'River Gardan' not far from the 'Pont du Gard' (famouse Roman viaduct). We were once again wildcamped. This time riverside in hot hot sunshine and completely alone.

Four nights on the campsite at 'Beauerecueill' was handy for 'Aix en Provence' but the combination of having to keep Tanya on a lead, (got told off three times. Once with pointy waggy finger), being surrounded by other campers, and having to negotiate busy roads every time you walked outside the site reminded me of why I mainly wild camp. To be fair it was a nice campsite with good showers, WiFi, electric and, a real bonus, Maggie, another solo motorhomer from the UK. We had a couple of real good chats and the world got smaller as we realised our paths virtually crossed many years ago. Does the name Bob/Rob Hussey ring any Bells Richard?

The campsite was purely for conveniance anyway as my reason for visiting the area was to call and see Nephew James who, as luck would have it was that very weekend moving into a more suitable apartment in readiness for wife Fran to join him in July. My toolbox came in very handy and by the time I left late last night the charming, spacious and typical French apartment was definitely looking a bit more like home. Curtains were up, Ikea lamps assembled and kitchen a total mess. The mess, however; was excusable being as it was after a beautifully 'made by James' 'Niccsoise salad' (hav'nt a clue how to spell it but I know good grub when I taste it) plus apple tart.

There was also the unfortunate little incident too, involving washing machine, waste pipe, and a two hour walk round Aix en Provence whose itinery included the Irish bar plus Burger and chips. Believe me we had earned that 'comfort grub' and were of course totally unaware of what awaited us upon return to the apartment. Which, as you may have guessed, was a very wet kitchen floor.

Baffled and cross we set to with towels to cleaning up before water drained through to the ground floor apartment below. We then investigated.

Now, at this point I would like to point out that said washing machine had been plumbed in by one highly skilled and competant civil engineer currently employed to project manage the complete plumbing system of a nuclear power station. He was ably assisted by a certain elderly gentleman of dubious motorhome fame who has a history of successfully plumbing in more washing machines than he cares to remember.

Our thorough, exhaustive, by the book, and detailed investigation soon uncovered the problem. The waste pipe went into a small cupboard under the kitchen window and there it stayed. The dam thing had been neatly cut off allowing all waste water free access to cupboard and kitchen floor.

Question:
Do you think we should maybe have checked before switching machine on and disappearing into Aix' for two hours?
Answers to James please but basically I would be very worried if I were you. Very very worried!

Motorhoming is a funny business and one which is often full of 'opposites' or paradox. Yesterday was a good slow and peaceful day which lasted right through to an early doors swim/morning wash followed by breakfast outside in the warm sunshine. Finally, at a leisurely pace, off we go again heading for 'Gorges l'Ardeche'. Fortune however; for this day, had no intention of granting us a second peaceful agenda.

First off my experimental sat nav settings got madame in a right tis so she took us down a 'just tooooo narrow' lane. OK: I forgave, negotiated my backwards escape, paused to intimately modify her ladyships settings and continued successfully on our way.

Next up had me muttering both to Tanya and myself.
"Why and what is that orange light glaring omminously at me from the dashboard?"
Stop again. Lunch this time along with investigation via Sadies operators manual. Turns out my brakes;- 'have reached limit of safe mode of operation'. In plain english that means they'll need sorting in the next couple of weeks. OK I can live with that but the day was not yet over. One more suprise was still on the agenda.

A rough bit of road and 'CRACK'. A loud ominous sound issued forth from somewhere front and left. For two days now multiple stops. I've looked, I've listened, I've pondered, I've moved/undone/tightened/untightened/lubricated etc etc. All to no avail. The only thing I've achieved is to establish that Sadie is not broken (yet) and wishes now to have regular 'crack' sounds as part of her modus operandi. That plus the rattle under the dashboard which for five years has defeated all my attempts to silence, is now, I guess, what I'm gonna have to put up with while driving.

All this while slowly meandering up the beautiful Ardeche Gorge. A time of mindful paradox indeed

Phone, a divorce. Cyclists, sun & rain.

My new phone was a hairs breadth away from being flung out the window last night. I used to be 'up with it' as far as computers and mobile phones go but just lately I've come to realise 'tecchie world' is so far ahead of me I don't even understand what has gone wrong when it goes wrong, why it has gone wrong, how to fix it or how to stop my pissed offness turning to anger and then depression. Hence phone has been switched off for a whole day.

It's all to do with Mrs Sat nav. Basically our relationship is over, we've split and she's b*******d off taking all maps with her. Oh! and she sabotaged her workstation too which has left me with only one option. Trusty old paper maps and frequently getting lost. Which funnily enough has a familiar feel to it. There are bonus's though. Paper map equals stick to major roads. The N340 to be exact. Big traffic jam so we dive off down a side road and come upon the charming 'Castellet la Gornal'. Complete with empty and ideal car park under the castle ramparts giving views over the large lake of 'Riu de Foix'. 
There was a second bonus too. A restaurant with fast Wi Fi connection where I was able to re-load some maps back into a re-installed Mrs Sat nav. I'm sorta hoping this younger and updated model will be less troublesome. (Please feel free at this point to act out, with passion, the statement:- 'Ha! don't this guy ever learn'.) Lets just hope she does'nt talk to the X Mrs Sat nav eh!

The whole map thing was upsetting as I was about to negotiate Barcelona and did not fancy my chances using a paper map clipped on the window plus magnifying glass to read it while dancing clumsily down narrow streets full of busy, foreign and aggressive city centre traffic.

I had only recently, during my latest visit to Lenny and Wyms lovely country villa in the Almond and Peach orchards North of 'Gandia', loaded fresh maps onto my new phone. So you can see why I was tearing my hair out when 'Mrs (now departed) Sat nav' decided, all on her own with not a word of warning, to update and ditch all maps.

Right now however; I am very peaceful, calm and happy. Who would'nt be, having your own home on wheels parked overlooking a mirror calm lake on the edge of the very civilised town of 'Banyoles'. I've cup of tea on the go, Tanya is fed and snoozing on her 'drivers seat bed' and in a minute I'll decide what to do. Shall it be Wash dishes first or myself? I'm slowly wending my way to France via 'Cadaques' a place I love and although reaching it means travelling extremely twisty mountainous and very slow roads, it is a stunning way to enter France from Spain. Weather is forecast to be dull, dare I say it, even raining, for the next few days so there is no hurry.

Talking of mountains I was atop a steep pass over the mountains yesterday on my way here to 'Banyoles' The pass was on the border of the 'Garoxta' and 'Barcelona' areas of 'Catalunya'. We had stopped for lunch and as I parked up so did another car with two English speaking Dutch ladies. The one, with camera in hand, set of briskly down the steep hill while the other explained to me they were waiting for her 69 year old husband to finish cycling up the pass. She went onto explain that it was now two years since his heart attack and after driving up the pass ahead of him she was not too confident he would make it. She said the last part, which I was due to travel down, was extremely steep. Well he did make it much to his, his sister, and his wife's delight. I duly clapped and cheered as he topped the rise very out of breath but in good shape and with an ear to ear grin on his face. They all joined me in Sadie for coffee and chocolate cake. I felt kinda underwhelmed in the presence of this super fit 'year older than me' guy and it did'nt help as he explained this was a practice run ready for the real race in a couple of days time. When they left Tanya and I set off for an hour long walk along the wooded ridge. I was knackered when we got back!

"Ah! This is'nt what we want is it Tanya." I said as I looked despondantly at the mist and listened to the rain hammering down on Sadie's roof here in 'Cadaques'. It was, however; exactly the weather as forecast. Furthermore it is forecast for the whole week over Spain and France so no chance to drive out of it. Funny how situations turn. There's me seeing Zoe (niece) complaining of sunburn back in the UK and Ry (X wife still good friends) travelling on the Kennet and Avon canal in her home, a canal barge, in glorious weather. All compliments of Facebook.

I cannot complain though. Just four days ago we were in very hot sunshine too. Naked on a designated 'Nudista' beach in a bay and holiday resort that went by the exotic name 'Temple de Sol'. We came across it purely by chance as we diverted off the main road for a lunch stop. Lunch was quickly put together and off we headed down a rough track to the most deserted end of the beach. On 'Nudistas' I usually observe, as a solo elderly male appearing among the numerous pairs of glistening and basting mounds of flesh that I am initially seen, even though clothed at this point, as threatening, predatory and voyeuristic. Never been a problem for me just an observation. I am soon stripped, beach umbrella raised to give Tanya shade, and I am in the sea enjoying a gorgeous cool, and favorite thing, naked swim. The basting female bodies once they witness this seem to lose interest but fidgety (and mainly with their 'bits') glistening unhealthilly brown/orange males restlessly stroll ankle deep in the gently lapping waves. They tend ever closer toward my end of the beach demonstrating to their respective females their courage in respect of 'I can do the cold sea bit too you know'. In all I suppose we were about one and a half hours on the beach swimming initially then eating lunch. In all that time, and I could see virtually the whole bay, not one other person went any deeper than ankle into the sea. What a missed opportunity is all I can say. For me one of life's great gifts is a cool naked swim in a clear blue Med sea.

I am afraid there will be none of that here in Cadaques this year. The driving rain and green wild foamy sea are not the seductive deliciousness this area usually affords me. A shame as the stunningly beautiful coves are a definite walking and swimming favourite of mine.

"On to France tomorrow then eh Tanya."

Technical problems & jippy tum

"Do you want visit Castle? Juan is leaving right now if you wish to go".
"Errr yes I will please, are dog's allowed?" The answer from the lady behind the counter in the 'Alhama de Granada' tourist office was affirmative so off I trots behind Juan.

Well the castle was nothing special and it turned out that our Juan only had 20minutes before knocking off time. Also he wished for us to be as fascinated as he obviously was by individual bits of castle wall which revealed to him amazing details of the castle's history. However; his verbal enthusiasm was in Spanish, rapid Spanish, in fact extremely rapid Spanish. This was definitely lost on me and, judging by their faces, on the other two couples on the castle tour with me .

La Manga lay behind me.  My impromptu  decision to hurtle down the fast A7 to Nerja for my birthday turned out not to be one of of my better decisions. I made it alright all 335 k in just a few hours. I was so pleased that once parked up Tanya and I headed for a favourite restaurant at Buriana beach where we enjoyed a good meal. Tired, full and happy we strolled slowly back to Sadie only to be told by our motorhome neighbours I had left the lights on (lots of tunnels on the A7) equaling flat battery, inner rage and despondency. There was not even enough juice to unlock the doors. Fortunately my contingency plan, ie hidden key, worked and we were thankfully soon safely inside. This was rather necessary as by now I was getting painful and urgent 'urges and surges' from my lower regions. A night of intimacy with my small but functionally adequate toilet followed. Morning arrived and was met by a bleary eyed, bowelled out me. Thankfully as day progressed so stomach improved. Plus a very helpful local gave us a jump start enabling me to charge up my battery. Nerja though, was turning out not to be the place I wished to be for my birthday.

I put  my finger on the village of 'Competa' up in the hills behind 'Nerja'. "That's where we're going Tan. We're going to celebrate my birthday in a lovely Spanish mountain village". Turned out to be a good choice. A lively and steep white-painted village reached on twisty mountain roads. The population comprised a mix of Spanish, foreign locals, a large proportion of whom are British (who all spoke highly of the friendly community based atmosphere of 'Competa') and a regular influx of tourists and holidaymakers.

We soon found a good spot to park and I have to say I had a very pleasant Birthday enjoying a good meal out (with no ill effects) at' Restaurant Perico' right in the village square where, over coffee, I enjoyed people watching/listening while Tanya enjoyed tit bits from neighbouring tables. I also nearly bought a new phone from a helpful lady phone shop owner. I wanted dual sim cards so I could use a Spanish sim card to enhance my Internet availability over and above my UK contract. In the end I decided not to being fearful of losing stuff like sat nav maps and passwords during swap over.

Next morning we were on our way cross country, read even-smaller, twisty, mountain road type cross country with fabulous views, to 'Alhama de Granada', which is, if you  recall where I left you a few paragraphs ago. On the Castle tour which by now had come to an end but not before we, that is the two rather wealthy looking tall Syrian couples on holiday from Switzerland (not refugees .... That's for sure) and myself were passed over to a portly local gentleman carrying an enormous key who informed us he would now show us around his traditional Spanish, early century house which he was slowly renovating. Two hours later, tired, hungry and gobsmacked at the maze like aladins cave being sensitively and painstakingly restored that we had just seen we emerged back onto the street.  We then had a photo shoot with the large key being inserted into the eighteenth century door as the focus.

That is when I dropped my phone. With a sickening 'smack' it hit the pavement.  Screen smashed and nothing worked. Now I have to say I give myself quite a bit of credit here. I had a brief moment of stomach churning dread then simply put it in my pocket and muttered to myself; "Ah well, shit happens!"  Funny though isn't it; the mischievous games Universe plays.  There was me nearly bought a new phone the day before and now here I was one day later the proud owner of a smashed phone.  Universal chaotic quantum mischief is what I call it.

I am back in 'Nerja' right now and have just enjoyed a smashing Sunday lunch after a good sea swim, with, I am happy to add, no ill effects from either. I'm killing time until my phone is repaired back up in the hills at 'Competa' where I went back to as I decided to take 'Universe's'  hint and buy a new phone. Life, or let's put it another way. Life plus today's fast moving high technology is never simple though. Yes swanky spanky new phone but, as I find always seems to be the case, nothing of importance (like sat nav maps or passwords) ever swaps over to the new phone, or is backed up as you thought it was. Hence me here in Nerja waiting for my trusty old phone to be repaired when hopefully I will be able to access 'other stuff'. No guarantee of course plus I have to work with the Spanish timescale which is very different from the UK.  "Ah no, cannot now fix for Friday. I fix next Wednesday.... maybe".

Ho hum eh!

Tim, Heather, meditation & fast boats.

"They've arrived Tanya." I stepped outside Sadie, carrot in one hand and peeler in the other, to welcome nephew Tim with girlfriend Heather. With puzzled look on his face Tim said. "Wasn't sure it was you what with the big Range Rover outside plus large dog as well as Tanya".
"Ah yes" I replied. "It's been some day and it's not over yet, come on in and I'll explain while I finish expanding last night's curry for us all".
As we tucked in to my 'expanded' (and ... May I add ... rather delicious) curry plus three grain rice I explained my 'different ' day little knowing it was by no means over and that before it ended Tim and Heather would also be fully involved in its hilarious twists and turns.

The day had started peacefully enough with a meditation on the beach in warm early morning sunshine.

'May the day be as it is
May I neither like or dislike
May I just be with 'is' as it is'.

I tell you. Those words sustained me as the day/night developed.

Mark, a local resident who had become a good friend to us, had, the evening before, mentioned he was taking his boat out to a local island next day and would Tony and I (of Tony and Pam my motorhome neighbours fame) like to accompany him. Sure enough next morning Mark turned up in his Range Rover and departed with Tony and myself on board. Pam, bless her, very kindly offered to dog-sit Tanya who was quite happy to oblige. Not only had Tanya taken a shine to both Pam and Tony she had also fallen completely in love with the shaggy rug in their motorhome. The doggy sitting was only going to be for a couple of hours anyway ..... or so we thought at the time.

On board Mark's sleek and very new speedboat complete with sink, fridge and snug fore cabin three guys could be seen taking snapshots during the three knot cruise through the marina and out into the Med proper. Then 250hp roared appproval and accelerated us to 50knots creating a curved creamy wake behind and eliciting whoops of joy from me. Boy that was fun! At such speed we soon fetched our craggy island destination where we  anchored up in Crystal clear water.

A wee note here. Tony, a successful self made man with good lady left behind  kindly minding Tanya, was for the day out with an equally gregarious self made  likeable Irishman whose good lady happened also to be away for a few days. Boys stories exchanged thick and fast as Mark produced fishing rod plus bread. Fish were all around and consuming in a frenzy every lump of bread apart from that which clung to the fish-hook. I'm still not sure about the convincing tale Mark would have us believe of intelligent college educated fish telling each other which bit of bread NOT to go for. Sounded too much of a fisherman's excuse to me. Needless to say no succulent fish for supper were landed giving Tony and myself ammunition to unmercifuly fire into Mark for the rest of the day.
Another exhilarating 'this is what I'm built for' 50knot power plane had us Marina bound, but more to the point ..... Marina bar bound.
I am teetotal, have been for several years now and don't expect any brownie points for it. My two companions on the other hand were not. I watched these first couple of civilised and deserved beers perform their allotted task of effortlessly pushing aside any 'I'm never going to drink again' or, 'I'll just have one or two' boundaries which may previously have been firmly slotted into place.
It was agreed, as we clambered into the Range Rover the Irish Bar, within walking distance of home was to be our next destination. "Uh-ho; this is not going to be a few hours", I mused to myself. The company was good though and we were also going to eat. No problem.
That was when I got the phone call from nephew Tim requesting a visit as they were on a weeks holiday with hired car and not far away. I was delighted at this 'stuff happening' and attracting more 'stuff happening'. Good ol'Universe piling it in thick and fast.
Mark and Tony were soon installed on high bar chairs at the Irish Bar while I departed complete with Range Rover and Simba the labrador, who is, to Mark's credit, a highly accommodating and tolerant doggy. I was to return at nine thirty to collect (read - attempt to collect) Tony
As I arrived at our motorhomes Pam, with puzzled face greeted me and also displayed high levels of tolerance and accommodation as I explained my arrival with big posh motor plus dog but no Tony.

Tanya meanwhile ignored me after giving me a 'Where's my bloody food' look.

I departed to Sadie to feed two dogs plus expand the curry in readiness for Tim and Heather's arrival.
Some day so far eh?

Ten pm arrived and all was agreed. My guests were staying the night and accompanied me with Simba the Labrador in large Range Rover down to the Irish Bar. I think we all knew there was not going to be a quick get out clause to this one. Tony and Mark, by now in high spirits, were of course delighted to see new guests arrive who were quickly furnished with drinks and, most impressively to me, welded themselves effortlessly, youthfully and pleasurably into this 'different' situation.
The bar quickly ran out of the preferred Vodka plus Tony wanted to call it a night having already abandoned his plan of moving on early the following morning.
Into large motor we all pile (yours truly was driving) and twice circumnavigate large roundabout as Mark from rear seat behind me in between expletive loaded comments such as: "I've never sat in the back of this feckin thing and the fecking roof's knockin my head" insisted on being dropped off at his next favourite bar. Meanwhile to my left Tony is imploring me; "Home, home to Pam, please just take me home to Pam".
Mark plus the ever tolerant Simba duly bundled themselves out and barwards head. Tim and Heather also clamber out to enjoy time together while strolling back to Sadie.
Tony is delivered safely, albeit a bit wobbly, back to Pam whereupon snoring is almost immediately heard from rear right hand corner of their trusty Hobby Motorhome.
Large Range Rover is parked up on Mark's driveway and I walk back to clear up Sadie and prepare the large drop down double bed for my guests. Expecting them back at any moment I complete all tasks with not a sign of them. "Awwww, that's lovely". I sigh. "Young lovers eh; probably snuggled up together on the beach", thinks I with tired but pleased smile on my face. I leave the door unlocked and clamber exhausted into my bed at one thirty in the morning.

End of? ..... Oh no! ..... read on.

Two o clock I am outside clad in dressing gown welcoming a highly jovial Mark complete with happy and thankfully somewhat more sober Tim and Heather.
Curled up making love on a beach be dammed. Mark had espied them as they exited Range Rover and dragged them into the bar with him. I have to say they did not look too unhappy with the way their first night with respectable elderly Uncle Steve and his motorhome had turned out. It took another half hour of hilarity before Mark finally decided which way home was and tacked his way one leg to the other in said approximate homeward direction.

Phew! Was I glad to finally feel my head hit the pillow. Last thing I remembered was my morning meditation. "Yup", I muttered, "I been 'is' with plenty of 'is' today alright.

Heather thrashed us all at Boules next day. She and Tim worryingly also disappeared off out to sea in my blow up canoe. They did return and so did Mark. Sober as a judge, smart, amiable and chatty as ever over a mug of coffee. He was especially interested in exactly where I had spotted the large fish during my morning snorkell/swim.
Sshhhhh ..... don't let on!

Tony and Pam? They did move on the next day and I unashamedly admit to being sad watching them go. Three weeks together sharing this lovely La Manga beach. A very special time. Safe travels guys.

More from La Manga

Oh boy: it felt so good as I cut through the gentle choppy waves while watching the shallow undulating seabed below me. I kneel, American Indian fashion, in the centre of my blow up Sevlar 2 man canoe. I thrust it forward with double paddle and revell in the pleasure of upper body and arms working hard as we cut through the warm blue sun kissed Mediterranean. I was never too far from shore where Tanya for once, and gratefully, had not been unceremoniously dumped into the front of the Rocky rolly thing that actually goes into that wet salty stuff that is just not me. No; Tanya was happily ensconced with Tony & Pam by their motorhome parked next to mine here at Colladus beach on La Manga peninsula. This, 1st for this year, canoe excursion was followed by another 1st, a good snorkelling swim. As I walked back up the beach feeling pleased with myself I was also a little ashamed for having not swam for so long. I think some of that unnecessary shame is down to last year during the time I was anxious about my health. On one occasion when swimming in the sea I remember I became terribly tired, lethargic and very cold very quickly. It knocked my confidence somewhat. But no problem this time. The opposite in fact. I became ravenously hungry which, as it happens, was highly appropriate as my new friends Tony, Pam and latest arrival Russ were busily preparing the barbecue ready for a long slow late afternoon/evening of gastronomic gluttony.

Hold on, wait a minute .... s'not all fun you know. My part of the deal was, seeing as I had the spade, digging the large deep latrine hole behind the bushes. Well we are motorhomes and we are wild camped (albeit in an area known as millionaire villa land) but we are also environmentally aware and responsible with toilet (or black water) cassettes whose contents, one way or another, need a home. Tooooo much information did I hear you say? Well; you may be right but I can assure you of one thing. When we leave here there will be no evidence left to indicate we were ever here.
..........
RAIN ..... OH NO!!  A whole twenty four hours of it. What a change. No barbecues  and no swimming as the temperature has dropped too. In fact we are considering moving on. Russ left yesterday and I may see him today as I am going to the dealership where he is getting a repair done to his motorhome. I have a water pump that is playing up and letting me know in plenty of time that it ain't gonna last till I get back to the UK.

Outside, in the rain, I also have a very wet inflated canoe which is to be deflated, carefully packaged and stored. Difficult enough when both canoe and environment are dry. Gonna be real messy doing it in the wet on wet sand. I am not looking forward to that task.

Right now though. Breakfast complete with large mug of tea and heating on. Mmmm: cosy. Tanya definitely thinks so. A soaking during her  early morning walk left her cold and shivery so she is now, after wolfing down her breakfast, fast asleep under her snugly 'looks like sheepskin' blanket
........
Never did find the dealership for my water pump. I guess I either did not read or enter the Sat Nav co-ordinates correctly, or I just did not see it. Tony did say they only had a small sign. Not to worry, there is always tomorrow. I did find a bank and now have Euro cash once again plus I managed a Mercradona supermarket re-fill of my fridge, fruit bowl and store cupboard.
In the end I was just too tired and it was too late to go somewhere new. So back to favourite beach at the tip of La Manga strip we headed. The place is beginning to feel like home. Especially as I espied Tony and Pam's motorhome still there. (Their blog:- www.snugglywuggly.Wordpress.com) They promptly invited me in for tea plus a good gossipy catch up and welcome back.
Weather looks good for the next few days. Y'know what ...... I might just stay a little longer.
..........
Yup. This place is still growing on me. I'm Sitting with Tony just now discussing our hilarious morning 'expodition' across the shallow waters (read mud up to thigh level and clinging to blow up canoe to stop disappearing completely into its sticky and stinky embrace) between the South and North ends of La Manga strip. I tell you .... the picture is not a good one. Two silverhaired and elderly, 'should know better' gentlemen struggling through muddy swamps while clinging desperately to a blow up canoe, with Tanya the dog in it by the way and none too happy at the way things were going. We were also scaring the be-jesus out of the local Flamingo flock. Tis a wonder no one saw us and called out the helicopter rescue. And, this is the good bit, the only bit of solid dry land, an island with a fisherman's hut/clubhouse on it, had a rather large, noisy, and to us ferocious looking dog running around on it. No landing on that!

The sun was out though warming our backs and I'm happy to report we did eventually make it to the safety of a solid beach. We were however; rather glad to finally see our motor homes snug and safe by our beach ably guarded by Pam.

The one thing I fail to understand though, is why Tony is so adamant he'll never go canoeing with me again? Is it something I said?

Barbara & La Manga

Picture it in your mind. A two week holiday in the sun. Away from all the stress of everyday life and plenty of time to relax, enjoy and slow down. I needed all the first week to do that 'slowing down' which then gave a few days of true relaxation and rejuvination. But then ...... day twelve dawned and the realisation there were only two days left before the inevitable return to stress, rush and pressure of everyday life. I remember such holidays well and don't get me wrong, they carry many fond memories of loved ones and good times. Always though, that 'far too soon' return to stress, pressure and for me, Migraines with their own particular and very specialized line in lowness, despair and gloom.

With such a background you can maybe sympathetically understand my present bliss. I am very near the tip of the 'La Manga' peninsular. It is a narrow 19 kilometre stretch of built up sandbank with Mediterranian on one side and the shallow inland sea, 'Mar Menor' on the other. As you travel up its length leaving the mainland behind it progressively becomes less 'commercially touristy' built up. Right here where I am, at the 18 kilometre mark there are empty buiding plots and posh villas galore. Most are closed up either for the winter or are for sale or rent. Sadie is perched right behind one such villa sporting a faded 'Si Vende' (For Sale) sign. Very posh it is too but completely shuttered up and like it for several years as the very smart, and I imagine, expensive, monogrammed spiky cast iron railings are literally falling away in great lumps of rust.

The beach is right outside Sadies door and gives out to a shallow sea where you can walk out to clusters of rocks where numerous Flamingos do their stuff as I  binocularise them. Sunshine for the last few days has been wall to wall albeit with a cool northerly  breeze. The whole beach is empty, just the odd couple now and again walking by.

Bliss comes in as I sit quietly and peacefully taking all this in knowing there is no twelth day. No looming fixed return or 'move on' day. No rising dread starting to infect and cloud the mind. I can stay. Stay right here where I am by this beautiful beach until 'Universe' decides in her own good time to move this Nomads life on one more notch. 'Universe', I think will prompt me in a day or so and is probably going to be either laundry or food shop.
Haaa .... life is never THAT perfect eh!
...........
I came South, to 'La Manga' after dropping Barbara off at Alicante airport for her flight back to Scotland. We thoroughly enjoyed our two weeks of togetherness and fun with a sunshiny mix of town, countryside, mountain and beach. We travelled between and around Barcelona and 'La Marina', a lovely wild beach side stop where there were other motorhomes and a good beachside cafe/restaurant. Very conveniant as a last stop too being just South of Alicante.
.........
Universe has now 'sort of' spoken. I have today moved but returned again to my private little beachside haven. I've had a day of hunting. Not in the conventional sense more a hunting/searching for. Laundry was number one and fairly easy as just down the road are two big posh Marinas. There are always laundries around Marinas here being no exception. I decided on the 'get it done collect tomorrow' option rather than self service. More expensive but easily countered by the fact I am not paying campsite fees.

While close to the Marina Tanya and I walked across to the 'Puerto office' to enquire as to the chance of buying a top up of water for Sadie. Got a definite down the nose look there with a curt reply. "Ees not posseeeble without you ave Nautica club membership." It was the reply I expected but if you don't ask you don't get which, as it turned out got me a full tank of water later on. We had stopped further down the peninsular and happened to spot a gardener/maintenance guy washing down a deserted shopping/eating Mall. "Well" I thought. "There's an opportunity too good to miss". Sure enough, five minutes, five Euros, the right question and hey presto a full tank of water.

Feeling very pleased with myself I resumed the hunt and headed across the street to what is always the shiniest shop on the street, the 'Farmacia'. Since my 2005 Angioplast (Heart attack and one stent) I take a pill called 'Ramipril' of which I am getting short of having at this point in my travels gone well past my two months UK prescription allowance. Armed with empty pill carton and UK repeat prescription form I head in to do battle.

Hmmmmph! No battle. White coated lady pharmacist merely looks at box, taps computer keys, disappear out back and promply returns with a 28 day supply. "That will be €2.50 please and is that enough or do you require more"? Ridiculousy simple and so so cheap. Where medication/drugs are concerned I am afraid I have to agree with the 'Rip Off' Britain school of succint revelatory education.
......... 
Still here at La Manga. Beachside and Sadie slowly taking root. Helped Irish Mark haul his boat up the beach yesterday and like most Irishmen he then talked... and talked .... and talked. But fascinating hearing his story and so nice to hear a success story of a wealthy couple of entrepreneurs who, through hard work and a bit of luck are now happy posh Spanish villa owners and about to start building another one.

I have other company too. Russ is, like me another solo motorhomer and on his first few weeks of trying wildcamping. He is an x Paramedic and now 'living the dream'. He is good company.

Well it's no good. Time to upload this blog. I mean I have a lot to do. Move my chair for a start as it is just starting to become shaded. Can't have that now can we.

Bliss, rain & Veterinaire.

Bliss. Gorgeous body rejuvinating dreamy bliss. I was horizontal on my comfy bed and slowly coming too after a well deserved afternoon nap. 

"Y'know that's the first time I've used the sun cream this year."

I sleepily mused  to myself remembering yesterdays equally blissful nap in the sun where my face later gave good warning via the mirror of not yet being fully acclimatized. I gave a lazy stretch and decided another few minutes of bliss were perfectly in order. That is when the first raindrops noisily hit Sadie's roof.

I stumbled and crashed outside Sadie, still not fully awake. I threw cushions and doggy bed back inside. I stuffed folding chair underneath and leapt back in pulling the door shut behind me with a bang. This was no messing about .... "I'm slowly coming to get you rain" .... Oh no! This was instantly, and out of nowhere, an incredible thunder plump of violent wind and heavy rain. In the few seconds it took me I was soaked to the skin but now, inside and with the rain thundering down on Sadies roof, I gleefully and while still dripping water watched as other motorhohomers on this Aire at 'Simat de la Valldigna' were equally caught out and getting thoroughly soaked. I mused to myself once again as I towelled down and changed.

 "Serves you right for getting the sun cream out eh!"

The rain is needed in this dry but fertile Orange growing valley north of 'Gandia'. The Cistercians monks recognised its potential centuries ago. The refurbished remains of their large and magnificent monastery was well worth the visit.

The plan on waking this morning was to move on but as usual plans have a way of losing solidity and, like melting butter, going with the flow of a hot swirling pan. Consequently the warm and sun blessed morning found bike, Tanya in green bucket and myself cycling the back roads and maze like tracks through Orange groves headed for the neighbouring, and larger village of, 'Taverness'.

There was 'reason' behind this buttery swirling plan fluidity. Tanya was wearing one of my shorty sports socks on her right rear leg. She had an abrasion on her foot pad which was causing her to limp. After two days of treatment and cleaning it did not seem to be improving and Tanya herself was starting to look a bit down in the dumps. I suspected an infection and had enquired as to the nearest vet from one of the local dog walkers. "Taverness, dos Veterinairia." She said smilingly to which I replied. "Ahh gracias senora." I was chatting to another English motorhoming couple as this exchange took place and they were most impressed at my grasp of the language. I just shrugged and kept very quiet. Why let them know I had just used virtually the only two words of Spanish I know.

With further enquiries in Taverness consisting of pointing to Tanya, saying 'Veterinairia' and looking helplessly around, I was soon pushing my way through the engraved glass doors of a smart, very modern 'Veterinair' surgery. This is where things operate slightly differently, and from my perspective better, than in the UK. None of this ringing for an appointment or having to be logged in on the computer, which always has a glitch just at that point or an operator who says: "I only started yesterday, I need to go ask ... etc etc". Oh no sir! Here you are met by no less than two attractive young female vets who escort you straight to a consulting room where Tanya is thoroughly examined and suspected infection confirmed. She is treated, complete with injection in the bum, there and then and prescription written out for purchase of required meds from the local pharmacy.  All done and dusted in fifteen minutes for a very reasonable fee of €20 plus €9 at the pharmacy. Oh! And senior lady veterinaire was most impressed by my use of sports sock and velcro attachment band. "Clean sock each very day." She advised, to which I smilingly, and genuinely, returned praise for her good grasp of English bearing in mind my own apalling lack of Spanish.

The plan for tomorrow? Well move on of course ..... unlesssss .....
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We have moved on, a little further North toward Valencia on my way to Barcelona airport for a week Sunday where I will collect Barbara. I'm looking forward to that.

And Tanya?  ... Well I'm pleased to say she is better than she was and hopefully the ongoing course of Anti-biotics will soon effect a full recovery.

Now is my smoked Haddock done?

Headaches, rivers & Alemi.

On my way from Santandar through Spains central plains I committed a motorhomers cardinal sin on a very wet night while camped in the middle of nowhere. There was a rain swollen river ten metres away where I proceeded to empty my black water (toilet) cassette directly into the fast flowing swollen brown torrent. River, although extremely busy, was well aware of such a disgusting action being Inflicted upon her. A big no no in basic river and human lore. She immediately took umbrage and swift revenge followed. On my 'black water' cassette is a plastic sliding cover flap. Sometimes this can slide a little too easily which is exactly what it did this time. Only it did it rather well and slid completely off and away into the swiftly moving watery arms of river. Was I cross? Well yes I was but there was nothing could be done and I could hear loud and clear; 

"Serves you right" being shouted mockingly at me by river.

My black water cassette still functioned but not quite so effectively. I determined two things. One; I would never again break the rules as far as emptying black water cassettes goes. Two; I determined to make a temporary cover out of wood or plastic as getting another one was out of the question until I returned to the UK.

So I am at 'Cullera' motorhome stopover with my handy bit of plastic from the local Chinese, we've got everything, bazaar. This was going to be modified to fit my toilet cassette. Only it was not happening quite as easily as I had envisioned. After drawing blood from number two minor cut I decided to abandon and think again. I called Tanya and we set off to walk around this huge free campsite. I ended up chatting to Colin from Weston Super Mare. I regaled him with my tale of misdemeanours and woe and was astounded when he said. 

"I've got one of those covers in my van. Been there for two years it has. You're very welcome to have it".

Never does it cease to amaze me the capacity of  'it'  to take away and then return. There are quite a few UK vans here. Even so, the chance of randomly meeting a fellow English speaking motorhomer with a spare Thetford cassette sliding plastic cover in his van has to be near zero on the scale of probability. As I've said several times before in my various blogs. I'm some lucky old codger who is, I am sure, being looked after by ... 'someone' .... just don't ask me who, what, where or why.
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I'm having a slow morning here at Cullera. A slow 'headache recovery' morning. Not as you maybe would presume though. There is no rowdy alcoholic night on the tiles to regale you with even though I am one of about two hundred motorhomes on this huge beachside wild camping spot. We've chosen to be on the edge of it, next to the beach in a quiet spot where Tanya can run free. The sun is out, it is 20° and altogether rather pleasant, even with a headache.

My headache is a cheese headache. A Pizza cheese headache to be precise. Very nice it was too cooked up in my little oven to crusty brown edge perfection. I  share the crunchy edge with Tanya but woe betide if there is tomato on it. That guarantees an off tummy Tanya the next day. No problems this time though, it's myself suffering.

Poor me you may say. Not at all I reply. You see there is an upside to my headaches these days. Very unlike my twenty five years of blinding, barbed wire round the head, debilitating migraines. Migraines which plunged you headlong into periods of deep 'black dog' mental lowness, lethargy, depression and sometimes worse. Where paracetamol, aspirin and the likes had no effect and where you became accustomed to grinding your teeth, digging heels in and going on because, well I had to. There was family, job and all the usual pressures of a young to middle age, always short of money, family man. My intimate relationship with such migraines persisted right up to my heart attack (that's another story) in 2005. They then miraculously disappeared. I was literally born again. A new life which came with a clear, pain free head.

That is why now, when I get the occasional self inflicted headache I am reminded how fortunate I am to no longer be under any pressure to 'perform' be somewhere or, dare I say it, get out of bed. It reminds me of those difficult years when life itself, at times, had little meaning or value.  

I cannot stress highly enough the beautiful sense of wellbeing greeting me now on waking even if I am headachy and dull brained. You see; I know there is nothing, absolutely nothing, preventing me from stopping completely to allow headache, in its own time, to have its fun and then be on its way. This is usually a three to four hour process, with help from paracetamol which, since my heart attack is now effective.

So please forgive me if ever you have specific plans, deadlines, or ideas which involve me and I appear a little vague or elusive. Enough said eh!
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Burriana and 'Alemi' the new 'Mexicana Fusion' restaurant owned and run by Jurate and Sergio. I spent three days in and around Burriana eating very well indeed at the restaurant. It is early days yet but custom is steady enough to cover overheads and I feel the quality of the food itself will ensure a steady increase of loyal returning customers.
I have also yet to find anywhere with tastier or juicier Mandarins than those picked directly by Sergio and myself right on the edge of Burriana. Yuuummmmy!
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While in that area bike was employed and a wonderful day was had in and around Valencia. The Opera and surrounding exhibition buildings were just stunning.