Roland Ladley's Blog, page 10

I have Ford Focus bum …

it must be April 1st

Bar-be-queing one minute, building snowmen the next. It’s not that shocking, though, is it? That’s British Spring for you. What is shocking is that the polar caps have been subject to extraordinary variations in temperatures recently, in the last 10 days the Antarctic had a +40 degree increase in average temperature for this time of year. It is pretty mad. And who knows where this is leading? One view I’ve read is that the changing climate is at a tipping point and it’s not going to be long before we see wholesale changes in temperature (like that recently experienced at the poles) which then becomes irreversible.

And yet there’s a war on. And covid numbers are the highest they’ve been (one in 13 of us had it last week, apparently) since the beginning of the pandemic. And inflation’s a bugger. And fuel prices are forcing many to choose between heating and eating – and please don’t recount the story of your nan living in a house with single glazed windows, an open fire and plenty of jumpers, because we’re in the 2020s and we live in a first world country where we shouldn’t be forcing millions more people into fuel poverty. There are options. And, of course, we had His Johnsoness in charge. With Patel and Rabb and … I don’t need to finish that sentence. It’s a worry. It really is. Hopefully Johnson will be undone by partygate. But I sense that breaking the rules whilst others couldn’t attend the funerals of their loved ones and lying about it repeatedly (including to parliament), will be considered to be frivolous in view of the multiple calamities which we now face. So why would we want to change our leadership at this critical juncture?

Because Johnson is not a serious politician. He is journalist. He has no sense of policy, no stamina, says what people want to hear and thinks more of himself and his position than he does this country. He wouldn’t understand servant leadership if it hit him between the eyes. He needs to go. And we need a grown up in charge. Otherwise … it doesn’t bear thinking about. But I’ve been saying this for months and nothing has changed. I’m a bit exhausted by it all if I’m honest.

we couldn’t afford flowers

We’ve had a bit of a week. I’ve been working through edit 2 of book 8, and I’ve started the long lead interviews for my army pal’s non-fiction book. We’ve continued to run/walk, and Thursday/Friday we drove to Colchester to attend – and to take mum to – my aunt’s funeral. It was always going to be tricky because mum’s not good outside of her own environment. And she’s not comfortable meeting people. And, and this was a big and, there are family tensions which were going to be laid bare by all the rellies being in a small space together.

Well, we made it. Just. Mum was prickly and there was some underlying tension at the crem and afterwards at the wake. But nobody did a Will Smith, and there were no cross words. In fact it was fun and great to catch up with everyone. It was, however, a long day (the funeral was in Great Yarmouth and we drove home to Bristol afterwards). Hopefully we won’t have to do another one of those for a while.

surviving aunt’s, uncles and cousins on my mum’s side

In terms of ‘what next?’, we have Mary with us for Easter and then we are due to attend a memorial service the following weekend … after which we very much hope to head off to Ireland for the first time (if you ignore two tours of Northern Ireland, the shouty bit, in a previous existence). Our plan is to spend the whole of May there in Doris. That’s the plan. And we are soooooo looking forward to it. I’ve got a couple of improvements to sort in her (always looking at ways to make things better) and then she’ll be set. Really can’t wait.

Anyhow, stay safe everyone. There are many reports of covid hitting people multiple times and just as many where the disease hurts more second and third time around. So look after yourself.

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

It is fair to say that we’re both feeling our age. I was under the weather as soon as we got back from France, to the extent that I took an LFT. C followed me on a couple of days later. So she took a test. Both were clear. And then I took another test yesterday as I was still feeling a bit mis, and C’s mood has improved but not by much. The view is that ‘if you’ve got cold symptoms you’ve probably got covid’ hasn’t been backed up by our tests and it’s accurate to say that we have managed our run and walk regime, although C’s head is still not straight … a sort of perpetual brain fog which is one of the current lurgy’s symptoms. Oh well. If this is as bad as it’s going to get.

i am a man of routine

But with that and my upcoming 60th birthday I made a bit of a pledge. I’m three careers down: army, teaching and now writer (and some consultancy). All three I’ve tried my best at, with the latter proving to be a lot of fun but without major reward. In terms of current commitment, I have this biography to pen for my army pal over the next 12 months, and book 8 in the Sam Green series to publish this summer. The old me would look at all that – and I know I’ve rehearsed this argument with you a number of times – I would still be unconvinced that I’m contributing enough. It is the self worth question … again.

However … deep breath … I am 60 tomorrow. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not a bad age to say, ‘do you know what? I’m actually retiring.’ That doesn’t mean I won’t write. It doesn’t mean I won’t pen this book for my army pal. It also won’t mean that I won’t do some leadership consultancy if the conditions are right. What it does mean – and I am trying to be very certain about this – I am going to stop worrying about whether or not I should be making more of my life. I am going to help people. Of course I am. And I am going to write another book, or two. Because I enjoy that. But I’m going to banish the introspection. I am retiring. Tomorrow. That’s me done.

Looking spanky …

In that vein we have done lots of non-work work. I’ve finished edit one of book 8 (still no title). I’ve almost finished my read through with C. She’s a v good verbal editor; it just requires a lot of concentration. I will then crack on with edit two before I dispatch the draft to my beta readers, hopefully at the end of April. Whilst C has been degunging all our gear post skiing I have cleaned Doris, including her roof, resealed the rear roof light (which has crazed even more – the roof light will need replacing in due course), tidied the garage, arranged some interviews for my non-fiction book, sorted the garden, checked the levels on the Focus, and cleaned Doris’s seats.

In addition we went to see Jen and James on Friday. They’re in good form. Their downstairs, which has been knocked through, still needs completing and I spent some time with James helping him sort their kitchen which had arrived flat packed. They hope it’ll all be complete in the next couple of months.

might need a new roof light soon

And we’re looking forward to a walk in the Black Mountains tomorrow – my birthday and mother’s day. As you know, Mrs Sun has been all over us like a rash recently and it’s going to stay that way for a couple of days. I’ve picked a hill we’ve not done before. Much of the Beacons will be busy, but hopefully not the hill I’ve chosen.

We’ve got a funeral to go to on Friday (an aunt, bless her) and then we’re off to see R&C the following weekend. Doubtless the time will be filled with thing. But it’s not going to be filled with that deep-down dread that I should be doing more. I’m 60, after all.

Stay safe everyone.

We’re back, hurrah!

And so it ends. Our last day’s ski was Monday and, surprisingly, there had been a couple of inches of snow overnight. As a result the conditions were perfect … until the afternoon. We found a new place for lunch where we treated ourselves to a sandwich and chips (a nice diversion from our usual baguette picnic) and then, after lunch, we tried to ski again. But we were thwarted by the temperature which had all but made the lower slopes unskiable – certainly for us purists. Perfect conditions in the morning, to rubbish, sand-like snow in under an hour. And with temperatures remaining high and no snow forecast, it doesn’t look great for the Alps over the next month.

our last morning mmm chips

On Tuesday we woke to a nuclear dawn, the skies full of Sahara sand. We packed, tidied and were out of the apartment by 9.15, reaching our hotel in Troyes mid-afternoon. It was another Premier Class jobbie – cheap and cheerful, but again with a fabulous breakfast. We spent the next morning counting the buzzards on the motorway fences, which is a bit of a habit of mine (we easily made ten in a couple of hours), before stopping for our booze shop short of Calais. C, bless her, misread the tax free allowance and we soon realised we had bought too much fizzy. And, as they charge duty on everything if you go over the top, we left 4 bottles of cheap fizz on the roadside.

heading home after a nuclear dawn

DFDS were as quietly competent on the way back as they were on the way out, and we made it to Richard and Caroline’s (in Dover) in time for a cuppa. We’ve not seen them for over two years and it was fab to catch up. We left them on Thursday for mum’s and have made it to Mary’s for the weekend. I have to say both of us are exhausted, especially as the two and a bit hour journey from mum’s to Mary’s yesterday took over five hours as both the A12 and M25 were blocked.

mum …

I’m also not feeling my best, to the extent that I took a LFT yesterday just to check I didn’t have the lurgy. Currently the antigen says ‘no’. I hope so, as I’m in close contact with two elderly ladies. It did cross our minds not to come to Mary’s, but we always try to make a difference when we’re here … so it’s a balance. Fingers’ crossed in the meantime.

Anyhow, we’re home tomorrow (Sunday) and then we have a 4 week window before we’re back down to Godalming to pick up Mary for Easter. For me this gap is a time where I will start my engagement with the people who can help me write Guy’s story (the army chap with Parkinson’s – I’m ghost writing for him?). I have a long list of folk I need to get in touch with. That will keep me busy, for sure. We also have plenty of admin to do and, after Easter, we hope to take Doris away for a bit. One option is Ireland, which we haven’t done before – if you ignore two postings to the north. The other is Scotland. We’re thinking all that through.

Thankfully we seem to have brought Mrs Sun with us. And she’s been accompanied by all manner of birds making a fuss about Spring. Which is fabulous. Frankly anything to keep our minds off Ukraine.

Stay safe everyone.

Still loving it …

We were in our favourite cafe on the slopes. It way out of the way. Actually it might be in Switzerland. It flies the Swiss flag – a white cross a red background, which is also the colours of the region, Haute-Savoie (the haute means high). So it might not technically be in Switzerland, although the border does run along the mountain ridge. It’s the same cafe where, two years ago after one of my boots broke, and a member of staff lent me one of his boots to get off the mountain. You can only get to the place by skidoo, so I guess he had a ride home. I don’t think that luxury would have been afforded to me; it was ski down … or walk. Bless him, whatever. I returned the boot the next day (and a bottle of wine) having bought some new ones.

mmm, Mt Blanc in the distance, mid left

Anyhow. It’s in a lovely bowl, always in the snow and, whilst pricey, the coffee is fab. What’s my point? Well, it’s one of language. I was paying in cash and only had a 50 euro note. I said to the guy, who was my age and was always happy and helpful, ‘Pardon. Je n’est pas petit.’ He smiled and said, ‘Moi aussi‘. Lol. ‘Tres drole’, I replied. Anyhow, he had change for a fifty … and we went on our way.

Our second fave coffee shop is in Chatel itself, and we always go there whenever we’re in town. Which is often. I sort of know the madame who runs the place, and I flirt with her whenever I can. Anyhow, I was recounting my lack of French to her in the Swiss cafe … and its amusing consequences. She thought it was hilarious. Apparently, she told me, I should have said, ‘Je n’est pas trop petite‘. It’s not a mistake I will make again.

We have had a fab time skiing. Mrs Sun has been omnipresent and there have been times when we have been close to getting burnt faces. We’ve recently lost the cold air and it has got warmer, which means the snow is receding and at lower levels its becoming more and more bare. Today we skied down the valley, at the small Abondance piste. We like it there (10 euros on a Saturday), but the snow is now very slush puppy and at times it was like skiing through sand. But, our technique has held and, even if we say so ourselves, we are feeling very proud of ourselves. We plan to ski again, for the last time, on Monday. After then, unless this part of the Alps has more snow, it’s going to become more and more difficult with more skiers using an ever shrinking piste. Again … we have been so lucky.

For the record I have managed to run twice, both times up to the top of the local chairlift. It hasn’t been my/our usual every other day, but we’ve been out on our pins every day which has meant some exertion or other. The problem (or not) is that there are no flat places in Chatel apart from the bottom of the valley, which is 100 metres below us. Just walking to the shops requires effort!

mush mush

We have a hotel booked for Tuesday evening, somewhere in the middle of France. And a ferry planned for Wednesday evening. Our pals, R&C, have v kindly agreed to put up with us on Wednesday night before we head off to see mum for a night and then onto Mary’s. We hope to be back in Bristol on Sunday evening. Assuming we get away on Tuesday without incident, it will have been a fabulous just under three weeks in the most magical place with weather to match. We have counted our blessings every day.

Stay safe everyone …

viva La France

Thanks mum

My mum gave me some money for my birthday. I am 60 this month. I know, I know, how time flies when your having fun. She was specific that I spend the cash on something Alpine. A cuckoo clock, perhaps? Well, maybe not. In the end I hired a set of Nordic Skis, boots and poles. What could possibly go wrong?

no words

We’ve had a fab week actually skiing, finding two new areas and, yesterday, a great day back up on the Chatel piste. The weather has been absolutely fab, but that has meant the snow is receding lower down and many of the slopes have been supplemented with blown powder, which acts differently under ski than normal snow. It gets pushed around the slopes into piles, exposing ice … so you have to concentrate. The good news about Chatel is that high up the real snow has remained solid and we’ve still managed some superb skiing. And we are very pleased with ourselves. Both of us can now ski … like skiers. Down anything, looking good. My ambition has always to be able to ski like ‘Austrian ladies’. It’s a long story, but in short we used to ski in Alpbach, in the Tirol, and there were always these Austrian women who skied down anything, reasonably slowly, under control with their knees seemingly strapped together. That’s my ambition.

I’d like to think I’m getting pretty close. You’d have to see for yourself.

the views

We’ve also walked … a lot. Our best day was Thursday when we walked up the far side of the mountain. Mrs French Sun was out with us again and the snow, the blue sky, the cold air and the views – well, the views. It was a special day. We picnicked by a stream and C caught sight of an ibex. All told it was fab. Yes, we picnicked. As you’d expect we take sandwiches on the slopes, tea and some chocolate. We find a spot with a view and chomp away. When skiing we do, however, always stop for coffee; our one luxury between runs.

Anyhow. Back to Nordic skiing. Today I hired some kit, we drove down to the Nordic area, C took a folding chair and some soup, I put the special boots on, clipped in my massively long and very narrow skis … and promptly fell over. How difficult can it be? Well it turns out that it is counter intuitively difficult. I’d rented the skating Nordics, like you see on the big-thighed people racing on the telly – not the ones which follow in tracks with herringbone undersides. And let me tell you it’s nothing like skiing. When you downhill ski your planks are parallel. Or, as a beginner, your feet are shoulder-width apart and your toes point inwards. It’s called snowplowing. With Nordic skis, which are the slippiest things I’ve ever come across, to get moving your toes point outwards, like a duck.

I could get used to this

The second fall did for me. It hurt a lot. When you fall on downhill skis, there’s a slope and you mostly fall upwards … and there’s nearly always some snow to cushion your fall. Nordic skiing happens on ice … like concrete.

I did mange two laps of a 300 metre circuit. C said I looked like my mother, which was a tadge ironic considering she was paying for my pleasure. Mum waddles very slowly everywhere due to really poor feet and the aftereffects of a stroke. I was skiing just like her. Feet pointing outwards, shuffling forward like a hopeless Charlie Chaplain. And there were plenty of really competent skiers of all ages showing me how’s it’s done. We had croque-monsieur and frites for lunch as a consolation. Thanks mum.

10 more days of Chantilly cream

Anyhow, we’re technically half way through a really fab stay. At least another 5 days (proper) skiing and 5 days walking to go. We both feel alive … and genuinely counting our blessings.

Stay safe everyone.

Just fabulous … if you ignore the news

We made it. And it’s fabulous.

just fab

But I can’t go on about how much of a good time we’re having without mentioning Ukraine. What a mess. What a disaster for the Ukrainians. The poor souls and, and I know a number of you will gulp at this, I also feel for the Russian military. Not all of them. Not the ones planning the operation, or those knowingly committing crimes. Just the poor lads and lasses who joined the army for a rouble and are now dying for the cause of a madman, invading a country where many have relatives, or where they and their loved ones go on holiday. I hope some good will come of all this. Maybe Putin is spent? Hopefully.

ooo, going abroad

It has distracted me and rightly taken the shine off a perfect first few days here. But we are doing our best. As General Melchett once said – ‘Goddam this Chateaux Lafitte’.

We left early doors on Monday. We normally stay at our pal’s house in Dover, but they had a houseful and the last thing they needed was an early start caused by a couple of very excited holiday makers. In the end we left Bristol at 3.30 am (I know, I know), made Dover by 6.30 and, because of Storm Franklin, caught an early ferry by catching a delayed one, if you get my drift. We used DFDS because they were the same price as P&O but were giving away free meal vouchers. We normally manage to catch a return ferry for just over £100, depending upon the time of day. DFDS did the deal for £160 (the cheapest unless we travelled in the middle of the night) and the breakfast was fab. 

breakfast was fab

We had booked a bog standard hotel in Dijon for Monday night. At £45, including a fabulous buffet breakfast, it was a treat. Sure we could have done with more room, a view, a terrace, a mini bar, a bath … but what do you expect for £45? It worked well. French tolls cost just over £65 and the motorways were, as they always are in France, smooth and unbusy. And, of course, the 17 year-old Focus behaved impeccably. We arrived in Chatel, having stopped off at Lidl, early afternoon. Oh, and for the record, unleaded prices are about the same as UK. Diesel is 10% cheaper.

The apartment is, in our opinion, the best placed in Chatel, high up on the sunny side of the valley and a short walk from the ski bus. It has pretty much been empty for two years, but it was like meeting an old friend. In fabulous weather (it’s set fair for the next 10 days) we walked on day one (all the way to Switzerland and back), followed by a day of, even if I say so myself, exemplary skiing, followed by another walk into town to our fave coffee shop, followed, yesterday, by another fab day’s skiing. We normally come skiing in January, which is considered low season, although Chatel (which is part of the massive Porte de Soleil ski area) doesn’t distinguish between seasons when it comes to passes. This year we can ski in Chatel on a 5-hour pass (our preference) for about £35 each, that’s up 15% on 2020. That may seem a lot but, in comparison to Meribel (£44) and Alpach (£40), it’s good value.

However, yesterday surprised us both. There’s a small ski area (Abondance) down the valley which we use on a Saturday because, in the low season – which does exist in Abondance – day passes are 10 euros to encourage people to come. If you think this is confusing … just wait.

Anyhow, we learnt yesterday that, both the French and Belgian half terms do not run out until the end of next week (we wondered why it was so busy on our first day’s skiing). As a result there were no 10 euro passes, which had actually gone up to 15 euros. Ordinarily, the cashier lady said, we’d need to buy a full day’s ticket for about £25 … but not just at this minute. See, there’s a race on the mountain and the main run was closed and, as a result, we can still get up the mountain for 15 euros, but can’t use the main drag until later. 

The problem, we thought, was that restricts our skiing to the peripheries – which have one pretty violent drag lift. But we bought our tickets and … had the time of our lives. Normally, in January, Abondance is an austere place. The single cafe doesn’t open and the wind blows. And the run(s) we usually use are interesting, but repetitive. Not yesterday. The place was buzzing. The violent drag wasn’t anywhere near as tough as we remembered and it opened three fab runs which neither of us remembered. The cafe was excellent and the food and drink cheap. And the music was loud and atmospheric. We had a lovely day and look forward to going back soon. 

And there we are. 

Wells comes everywhere

Today is a walking day. Tomorrow we ski … whilst Ukrainian women are taking up arms, making petrol bombs and being outstandingly brave. How lucky are we?

Stay safe.  

Almost across the Channel

It’s been a busy time, especially as we are currently up to our elbows in ski socks and knee braces. Our ferry leaves at 8.30 tomorrow morning and we’ve decided on a 3.30 am start. The good news is we have booked a hotel in Dijon tomorrow night so we have split the French bit of the journey. I’m sure it will all be fine. This time around we been very particular about what we take with us. Normally, even with the back seat down, we’re overflowing. However, because Brexit restricts what foodstuff you can carry – and other self imposed restrictions – it looks like the boot might have some room in it, and the car will be lighter. Hurrah! We have got all the paperwork ready – there is no need to complete a covid test, but there is still a declaration form to fill in and other stuff. I think we have the Ts crossed etc.

it’s rubbish, isn’t it?

The army pal of mine with Parkinson’s came and spent a few hours with us on Friday. He is quite an extraordinary man. If you leave aside his battle against the disease, his life is one great adventure, with so many stories of trips (and jobs) into jungles an deserts. I think I’m well travelled, but I clearly am not. His next journey, from Sierra Leone to Cape Town, is going to be his toughest – he struggles to tie his own shoe laces, so you can imagine what difficulties lie ahead. There’s a film crew going out three or four times to capture his travels and help him shine a light on Parkinson’s in Africa. He wants me to join him for the tricky bit, around the Congo, and travel with him to get a sense of the journey. I’m up for that, but it does depend on timings. C and I do have immovable things in the diary.

My next decision is how to tell his story. Should it be biographical, or autobiographical? I am going to start to write it as a snap-shot biography, focusing on his journey through Africa, planting historical anecdotes where they make sense. That means I can start to write it from this weekend … when I first caught up with my pal post his diagnosis (which is 9 years old). It may be that a first person account reads better, and I am happy to do that. I just need to work out which suits both the narrative and our time. I’ll keep you posted.

For the record, I fitted a new car battery and that seems fine. And then I backed the poor old Focus into a tree. The one in our front garden, that’s been there forever (in my defence I was thinking about something else). That’s another dent in our very dented car. Thankfully she’s not pristine …

Oh, and the wedding. Bless them. We were always going to travel down to Devon on the day but the 80 guests who were staying at the hotel on the Friday night had to be relocated because there was no power. Then there was no power in the village on Saturday … so the church was lit only with candles (and chilly). Post service the hotel still had no power, so we had a glass of fizz in the church until, by the luck of social media, a local offered a very lovely house for the wedding party. It had electricity … and then it didn’t. The hotel served some drinks and then the caterers did their best to relocate, but it was slow. C and I, still covid-concerned in a smallish room with a lot of people, did our best to get around and then pulled away. It was a sad spectacle and did feel for them. Although, to be fair, the church service was lovely with some fab music, so there were some positives.

colder than it looks

And more storms are coming? What with Johnson unlikely to resign over partygate, even if he is given a police fine, I feel now is a good time to push off to the Alps for three weeks skiing.

How lucky are we?

Stay safe.

Some light …

Something to look forward to …

Isn’t the weather just bloody? I don’t know whether it’s good or bad for this time of year, but apart from three of four days it feels as though we’ve been under the clouds since November. As you know, the good news is we’re out of here on Tuesday skiing. Between now and then I would say the weather can do its worst, but we’re off to a wedding on Saturday in Devon. Bless them … it’s not going to be much fun if it hoofs it down.

Happy Valentine’s!

Just as I was beginning to feel that my writing days were coming to an end (we’ve spoken about this) with my foray into Amazon Ads hardly delivering anything helpful, on Monday an opportunity comes my way. An army pal of mine has Parkinson’s. He’s been suffering with the disease for 10 years. In order to raise awareness (and some cash for charity), prior to Covid with huge courage he set off to drive from London to Cape Town, down the west coast of Africa. He made it as far as Sierra Leone before Covid scuppered his plans. At that point he left his camper in Freetown and flew home. Anyhow, he now intends to complete the journey starting next month. This time he goes with a much wider audience and a film maker in tow. By way of introduction you might like to look at the video which has been made here: https://vimeo.com/654973780/a496706ead.

How does this involve me? Well, he phoned me on Monday after advice for writing a book about his journey (Parkinson’s means he doesn’t have the motor skills to type). The long and the short outcome of our conversation was that I agreed to ghostwrite his story. I have book 8 in the Sam Green series to publish by the summer, but then I was considering what to do next. This – ghostwriting for my pal – is a perfect tonic. There’s no fee (it’s all for charity) but it might involve some travelling, which is right up my street. And I always had an ambition to pen something travelesque – and I’d hope this would be a sort of Bill Bryson does Africa with Parkinson’s. Perfect. My pal, his film maker and I are meeting up to discuss strategy on Friday. I’ll keep you up to date.

For completeness, the car wouldn’t start when we got back on Sunday. The battery is kept full with a solar panel, but she’s got old bones and couldn’t be bothered. Anyhow, she started on Monday and I’ve got a new battery to put in her tomorrow. I’ve spent the last couple of days sorting out Doris, editing book 8 and doing general admin (I had to sort some complications with my small teacher’s pension, which kicks in next month when I’m 60 … God forbid).

And, finally, I think I’ve decided to cut the number of times I publish this drivel down to once a week. I’ve been at it for almost 9 years and, mostly because Covid has restricted our movement, it’s all been as dull as dishwater. So, to stop you from sighing heavily twice a week, I’m going to cut down publication so there’s less to bore you with. I will continue to use it as a diary, and I will continue to bleat about politics when my frustration levels are high. But you will be blessed by having to read less of C and I’s adventures. I think it’s for the best.

In the meantime, stay safe. I had a long chat with a ex-teacher pal of mine this morning. She’s tested positive for the disease on Saturday and has had a rubbish weekend with it and is still not right now. So much for enjoying half term!

this time next week?

Good and bad

So that’s that then. We’ve had our last night in Doris … for a while. We had a lovely time at the Jones’s and also at mum’s. She’s in good form and is managing the reasonably complex task of being frail and living on her own with aplomb. We are v lucky as she causes us very few problems. And whenever I phone her, which I do daily, she’s mostly content. Then onto Mary’s where we always have a good time, including a walk around Godalming (Britain’s happiest town, apparently – with the number of top-marque German cars in the drives, I’m not surprised) followed by a lovely lunch with a pal of hers.

one final walk

We’re staying here for Sunday lunch and then off home. I got a pretty full week next week, what with books, marketing, admin and some jobs to do on Doris. We have a trip down to Wells planned mid-week, a wedding to attend on Saturday and then we’re off over the Channel, the first time in over two years. I think it’s probably the longest time either of us have been divorced from the continent and, now that France looks set to remove the need for a covid test of any description, it should all be plain sailing. I can’t wait, both for the sense of adventure, and the skiing and everything that comes with it. We are, as I said last time, immeasurably lucky. Let’s hope no speed bumps are encountered on the way … and that we come back with all our limbs.

Of course, there are one or two existential threats which could unhinge everything. Russia’s pending invasion of Ukraine is one of them. I’m sure you’re clear on this, but the US’s weakness, caused by drastic partisan politics and submission in Afghanistan, the UK’s inability to effectively lead it’s own government, let alone a nation, and the EU’s mixed messages, provides the perfect opportunity for Putin – the vulgar narcissists, who cares only for his regime and not his people, nor those of his neighbours – the opportunity to strike. And this has nothing to do with so-called NATO expansion.

There are conflicting views as to how far Putin might go, but eastern Ukraine looks in peril. And all we will do in return is impose sanctions which will undermine any remaining quality of life for the poor and lower-middle class in Russian, and those parts of Ukraine which will succumb to Russian influence. From my perspective it’s all a disaster. And it’s just on our doorstep. One further major negative outcome could be sanctions against Russian gas. That might have some affect on the politburo … but it will certainly further impact on energy prices here in the UK, just when a lot of people are really struggling. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Ho hum.

coffee time in Godalming

And the cost of living crisis is, I feel, going to hit hard and huge. We’re all going to suffer, but no group more than the poor. I know it sounds like an urban myth but I firmly believe that many people will have to chose between heating and eating. I think I might have mentioned two years ago, when covid hit us, that we needed to be aware of inflation. Of course our kids have no idea what this means. They’ve lived through a time when the cost of living has remained flat. Those of us in our 60s remember only too well when mortgage rates were in double figures and retail prices doubled every five to ten years – and our parents had it worse still. I can’t see it getting any better any time soon. What we need here is strong leadership. And you know I’ll say that is missing here.

So … for us the short term, with hopefully three weeks in Alps coming up, looks fab. For many, it all looks v bleak. Again. How lucky are we? The answer, of course, is ‘very’.

Stay safe everyone.

The luckiest couple in Suffolk

Run, cycle into Diss, and then run. That’s our three days since Sunday, staying at the fab campsite seven miles north of Diss. I gave Doris a clean, made up some new Amazon adverts, and did some more editing of book 8. Today we popped along to see my uncle (Sandra’s dad), who lives in Weybread, popped back into Diss, and have just walked around a lovely nature reserve killing a little time before we head off to old army pals, Phil and Denise’s for a night. How lucky are we?

As I doom-scrolled last night I was reminded (politely) by Google of a photo from six years ago … that is two and a bit years into our travels at the time we were wholly ensconced ‘full timers’ (living in a van, full time, without a permanent address). We had just got to the point where we thought that living in Doris One (a Dethleffs Van II) was asking a bit to much of ourselves. It was tight at the best of times, and not always comfortable. And so we had starting looking … but only in a cursory way. In fact, on a Sunday trip down the M5 where there are five decent motorhome depots over a 30 mile stretch, we had almost turned around prior to the last leg (to Wellington) and headed back up to our campsite. But we didn’t. And the rest is history.

Yum

There were over 200 vans in the showroom, but Doris 2 stood out like a sore thumb. Why? Because she’s bigger than anything we ever expected to own. And she’s a Hymer – pretty much the top marque of German motorhomes before you jump and buy a Morello. C remembers’ standing inside, down one end of her, by the bed-over-garage, looking back at me and laughing. It seemed there was so much room. Against Doris One, she was huge (4.5 tonnes and 22 ft long). But, against American equivalents and some of the larger British vans from, say, Autotrail, which can reach 26 ft long, she was perfectly manageable.

Sure there was a price to pay. But, if this is what we were going to be doing for the next few years then why not do it in style? So we did. And, six years ago yesterday I have a photo of C sat on Doris Two’s big rear bed putting our clothes away. Followed by another ten or so, pre-sale photos of Doris One. It was quite a moment.

Six years later and, I have to say, I love her as much now as I did then. She has been through a lot. Taken us to some special places which, pretty much without question, are places where you might not want to take a larger van. She is (holds his breath) bombproof. And, yes, there are plenty of things which have broken, things which I have always spoken about in here. But, other than replacing the satellite dish, I have fixed them all. I’m even changing her oil now. And we have improved and improved her. When we bought her she came with £10,000 worth of extras (yes, £10,000). We’ve added a decent towbar, a long awning, and Li-Ion batteries … about another £5,000’s worth. All of her light are now LED. And there are a myriad of other things we have sorted. She is, for us, pretty perfect. Going away in her is a pleasure, the only issue is that we sometimes forget how lucky we are.

And that takes me to a reminder, for myself, of what we have planned for the rest of 2022. Hopefully in a couple of weeks we are skiing in Chatel for three weeks. We’ll take the car for that. We hope to go to Scotland in Doris for all of May, maybe a bit longer. We have a big fat Italian wedding to attend in June. We’re going for two weeks (fly and rental car to Pisa, Siena and Florence), taking Mary with us. And then Bex, Steven and Henry come home for the summer. After which it seems likely we’ll be heading for Saudi as live-in child chair for about two months.

our latest stroll

That takes us until the autumn. Christmas will be at home and then the skiing season will start again in January. Between Saudi and Christmas C and I have discussed moving house. Very likely letting the one we’re in, moving north (where rental prices are cheaper) and finding a bigger, more appropriate place. Location? Probably between Jen and James in Gloucester, and Steven’s family in Wolverhampton. That move does nothing to dampen our ambition to travel, not mine to write. It will just give us slightly more room … and hopefully a view.

That’s it from the luckiest couple currently in Suffolk. Stay safe, please.

Stay safe.