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."