I'd be lying if I said it wasn't difficult leaving Alison & Roberts lovely home in Oxenhope, Yorkshire. I had enjoyed ten days of very comfortable accommodation with wonderful company. Tanya too was settled and very 'at home' having taken over Vita's bed and got to know all the local sniffs.
In particular, after my initial diagnosis of Oesophagal Cancer and while I am still unsure of full detail of its severity, the fact I was within familiar and much loved wide family support took on extra significance. My vulnerability to the cataclysmic shifts of emotional wellbeing such delicate ground bequeaths is difficult to manage.
This morning I mused on such facts and vagarities of the human condition as I rested abed and supped my early morning tea while viewing the wide sunrise vista of 'Lower Middlemoor'. I was parked on the grassy, and famous horse racing moorland just above 'Pinkers Pond' and just a few clicks away from 'Middleham' itself with its impressive castle.
"I do just love this wandering lifestyle of mine." I mused.
Which is probably not the best thing to be reminding myself of just now being on the cusp of a Poison, Slash, Burn NHS process. (Chemo, Surgery, Radiography) This upcoming entry into the realm of Cancer treatment undoubtedly heralds an end to my much loved independant wandering motorhome lifestyle.
What such a life shifting event also does is to focus me acutely on the joy of right now, right here in this very moment. A reminder to work and practise even harder on that quiet meditative focus over the next, and final, few weeks I have left of this lifestyle.
That is why when I left 'Oxenhope' I quickly converted my emotional vulnerability (not good when driving a 3.5ton motorhome on busy roads) into my favourite task of driving the, 'not designed for motorhomes' minor roads heading high and deep into the north Yorkshire moors. The strategy worked. Emotional equanimity and wellbeing duly returned. However; nothing in this world is permanent and I am well aware my emotional roller cancer coaster, has not even left the fairground pay booth yet.
And so we roll on deeper and higher eventually stopping for lunch at the 'Tan Hill Pub' boasting its status as highest Pub in England at 1732ft. Later I pause again, pulling in to a conveniant veiwpoint. I pulled out my comfy beach chair and drowsily continued my musings.
Earlier I had passed columns of thick smoke issuing forth from the practise of burning clearings among the heather clad high dales to encourage and maintain Grouse numbers.
"Never mind that we are at precipitously critical levels of CO2 in the atmosphere. The wealthy must have their Grouse killing fun pandered to no matter what!" I angrily exclaimed as I flung Foxy10 around the next bend.
As I rested in my beach chair the mornings smoke induced anger had dissipated but the reality of Global warming hit home. I was at an elevation of 1700ft and it was November the 2nd in the high and desolate North Yorkshire moors. To be sitting out in such a high and beautiful place in windless and gloriously warm afternoon sunshine was Lovely yes; but also surreal with accompanying feelings of planetary unease.
On the other hand maybe it is not so unusual and was just Universe granting me a few final special memory moments to sustain me on my future, as yet unknown, but definitely different journey.
Who knows.
