Roland Ladley's Blog, page 6

I’m off for a lie down

We’re both exhausted, which is a little unusual for where we find ourselves. We skied today at Abondance, which is a small, independent resort down the valley (you have to drive there). Provided there’s snow, it’s lovely, with a few decent runs, a delightful cafe with terrace and great views. Today it was perfect, especially as it still remains half price in comparison to a 5-hour pass in Chatel.

on the ferry

But I slept pretty much immediately when we got back although, after a bath, I do feel a little shaper. C, on the other hand, is ok, but that’s after a really poor health day yesterday, which followed a full day’s (fabulous) skiing on Friday in Chatel. Sorry … I’m probably losing you. Backtrack, Roland. We travelled over on Tuesday after a night with R&C in Dover (for which thanks, as always). The car was pretty brill, we stayed in basic B&B hotel in Dijon that night, and then drove onto Chatel on Wednesday. Thursday was a bedding-in day. Friday was our first ski and we skied hard. And then Saturday, after a bus trip down town and back, C spent most of the afternoon asleep feeling wretched. She’s ok-ish now. 

our first day skiing. Just fab

Let’s see what happens tomorrow, which is a rest day (we don’t ski every day, you probably know that by now). My tiredness is probably down to a very minor chest infection which won’t go away. C’s might just be exertion after, let’s face it, a pretty mad month with Christmas, moving … and and and. Again, let’s see what happens. But, it is fair to say that we feel, as we always do, incredibly privileged. Who gets to go skiing for four weeks? And, this time, gets to introduce their grandson to the snow at February half term? Us. How lucky are we?

We would be feeling v smug if our house in Bristol had been let, which it hasn’t – that is it was, and now it isn’t. There doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason as to why. This sort of thing just happens, although it is a first for us. Fingers crossed with this, then.

Perhaps another reason I’m shattered is because I have spent every spare moment writing. I’m currently 10.5/70k words into Running on Empty, my ghostwriting book for my mate Guy. I have found it (nicely) all consuming, but not without considerable effort. I’m nine books the better and know how this thing works. But do I?

the kitchen window view

Writing a novel is pretty linear. You have some ideas, some plots and characters. You launch them from your head onto your laptop. Yes, of course you need to write in a way that entrances those who read your work. And, yes, you need to be on top of quite a lot of grammar, even if you do have a decent proofreader, which I now do. At some point the plot(s) needs to come to a conclusion, and that takes an element of nous. But, overall, it’s a linear thing. It’s hours upon hours at the keyboard, followed by hours upon hours of editing. But it’s linear. Trust me, it is.

Ghostwriting isn’t. It can’t be. Because there’s a second person who holds the story. And you need to extract that in a way which gives you the tools to write something they want written in a way which readers would want to read. There’s trust there. A relationship to be built. You have to know what to keep and what to leave behind. And then, and this is the hard part, you have to write something. And you can’t make it up. A decent length memoir is like writing four Phd theses, but in a conversational way which won’t bore your audience stupid – as most Phds do. It’s a blooming skill, let me tell you … and I have absolutely no idea if I’ve got it right.

today’s coffee stop

And that’s a bit of a thing. Because our publicist tells us she has a preferred publisher who is excited by the prospect of a book and is taking it to a board meeting in early Feb. I could have told them the story is worth telling. It’s a fabulous tale and needs to be told. But, and it’s a huge but, do they want me, with my particular style, to tell it? I dunno. I guess we’ll find out soon enough, at which time I will have probably spent close to 50 hours spilling my soul onto electronic paper.

So that’s why I might be shattered.

Anyhow. I’ve started chapter four and I’m talking with Guy tomorrow to get some stuff to finish that chapter. I hope we’re 7/20 chapters in by the time C and I get home. That’s a stretch target. Six is more workable. As you can see it’s quite a thing. 

Stay safe, all of you. We’ll do our best to keep our limbs intact.   

And, we’re off!

We’re packed. I’m pretty sure the new Focus is smaller than the old one, which I know is unlikely. Although, we do have the kids’ ski kit and some of Henry’s toys. So that may be the problem. And we have to make allowances for three extra sets of skis should, during half term, we have to go anywhere which isn’t covered by the skibus. As a result we have put the top box on … which meant getting a new set of roof rails (Ford originals for £75 from FB marketplace, which I was really happy with). Anyhow, we’re set. We’re staying with R&C tomorrow night (thanks again, guys), catching an early Tuesday ferry, overnighting in a b&b in Dijon and should arrive in Chatel on Wednesday. Notwithstanding catastrophe we’re there for four weeks. And the snow is great. And the weather has settled. Absolute bliss.

winter tyres off the old, onto the new

The past week has been a muddle of work and sorting. The sorting is the house. We just about have it where we want it, although there are a good deal of things we would like to make happen over time. I have to say that C has made it really cosy and it has quickly felt like home. I love it. C loves it more. She’s already talking about not going away in the summer so we make the most of the place. We’ve walked and run. The walk took us across the fields to the village (about half a mile). There we abused the local cafe which is fab – pricier than Greggs, as you’d expect, but v convivial. By chance I spotted a chap wiring what looked like a manuscript. Low and behold, he’s a writer! We had a chat about things writers talk about. It was a brief but wholesome interlude. 

The running is much better than expected. C is managing the hills. And I’m loving the constant x-country opportunities. The views are pretty exceptional and, now the rain has gone, it’s just perfect being out in such clean air. Long may that continue.

working … in my study

The writing is motoring along. First, Guy liked chapter 1. And he has passed it around some of his pals and there’s a general thumbs up. That is such a relief. He came and saw me on Thursday (it was great to see him) and we had a Zoom call with his niece, the publicist, and Rob, the film maker. From there we were all given our marching orders and Guy and I got on with devising the right sort of synopsis (which Tori, Guy’s niece could use to find a publisher). And then we explored chapter 2 … which I have just just finished. What a story. I’m absolutely loving the job and it’s much more fun than I thought it would be. But, at about 8 hours a chapter (of which 1.5 hours is with Guy) spread over three days, and 20 chapters long, it’s going to be a tight fit to finish by mid-April. But we’re on it.

And we’ve already had people round for supper (P&K) and been to them (which was lovely, as we met some new people), and C is lining up a host of visitors, which is great. On the downside our letting agents had found a tenant for our Bradley Stoke property, only for them to pull out. Mmm. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Don’t worry we won’t be coming to any of you for a sub. But the sooner the place is let, the better.

Got to go. One more sleep until we’re off on holibobs. Stay safe everyone.  

I had to change the brackets on the garden gate in the old place. It was a sod of a job

Well that’s a surprise

This blooming cold

First, this blooming cold, or whatever it is, is damn persistent. I still have a bit of a rattly cough and a head full of stuff. Neither of those are a problem, but the post-run damage is a pain. Absolute tiredness. I was on the phone earlier and all I wanted to do was sleep. But, a cup of tea later and I’m ok. And I know that I’ve not had it anywhere near as bad as some, so I should be thankful for that. Keep safe everyone.

The new house is just fab. And we haven’t seen the best of it as the weather has been so poor. I’ve just about sorted the shed (actually a stable) and the main rooms are pretty much done. The large study-come-walk-in wardrobe is miles from being finished, so that is next week’s job. But the place is warm and inviting. And our almost favourite occupation – watching a film post supper – is perfectly met with the sitting room and its three sofas. Yes, three. One each, and one for our imaginary friend.

Big sis, little sis

If you follow me on FB/Insta you’ll also know that the dear old Focus, now 117k miles down and 17 years old, has got a new(er) sister. The electrical fault, which I wrongly assumed I had fixed, returned mid-week. For the second time she just wouldn’t start. There’d be a noise, like the fuel pump working, and then nothing, not even any lights on the dash. As before, I tried five or six times to start her … and then, vroom. She burst into life, as if nothing was wrong, and why were we worried?

We couldn’t go on like that. The code reader gave a general fault and I assumed that it was damp which had penetrated something. As an intermittent issue I had to guess that a garage would struggle to find it. So we were in ‘buying a replacement’ territory. In a rush, too. We had Mary to take back to Godalming and, a week later, Chatel beckoned. I already knew we wanted a 1.0 ecoboost/equivalent engine, we just had to find the right car. Two days later we were driving away from a distant garage in rural Somerset with an unmarked, 63-plate silver Focus, 1.0 ecoboost, with 45,000 miles on the clock. And, thus far (we’re in Godalming) she’s been fab – 50 mpg on the way down here with three up + luggage. I’ve got to do something about winter tyres, and we need to get some roof bars so we can manage five sets of skis when we all meet in Chatel, but hopefully that’s done. Typically the old Focus got us down to the garage and back without a blip. I’m not yet sure what we’re going to do with her. 

An, as yet unedited start …

And new news … about the ghostwriting job. Job, of course, is a misnomer as I’m not charging for my time. But it looks like it’s certainly going to keep me busy.

I spent a virtual hour and a half with Guy (the chap I’m writing for) on Monday, with a view to getting everything I need for the first chapter, and a promise to have something with him a week later – this Monday. I had absolutely no idea if I could translate his story into words which he might have wanted to put down on paper, if he could type (which he can’t) and form the sentences into a readable narrative (which he assures me, he can’t either). I started the same day and it’s taken me until today to scribe 3,500 words which I think meets his intent. We’ll find out next week if that’s the case after I share it with him.

But that’s not all. Since Guy asked me to ghostwrite his memoir, rather than me write a story about him – which would have meant accompanying him on part of his journey to South Africa – I have been a little nonplussed about the whole affair. I’m an imagineer, not a ghostwriter. The first is immersive, the second, responsive. I wasn’t even sure I could make a good stab at it. But, do you know what? The story is so engrossing and Guy’s personality so open, I’ve really enjoyed it so far …

… and, as for exposure. Well then. Guy’s niece is going to market both the book and the one-hour documentary. And his niece’s resume is pretty startling. She has reach everywhere. She was Bryan Adam’s publicist for his latest book, plus countless other v well known clients (Monty Don, Ai WeiWei, David Bailey, Charles Sattchi, just to name a few). She’s talking about a media explosion in September, with international TV and radio exposure. And she’s going to find a publisher, which is more than I’ve ever done (to be fair, Kindle took Fuelling the Fire from me and kept it for five years selling over 5,000 copies). But traditional publisher. Nah. 

All of a sudden, then, rather than helping an old pal write a book which might reach a limited audience of Army pals and those with an interest in Parkinson’s, we might be onto something much bigger. Hence the blooming book has to be good. And that, of course, is the billion dollar question. I have no idea. If it were one of the Sam Green books, I’d have some confidence. But a memoir penned for someone else? Give me a break.

Anyhow, it’s given me a focus. I’ll know by the end of next week whether or not the focus is short lived or not. I hope it stays the course, but I will not be surprised if Guy looks for a replacement. 

Stay safe everyone. 

Bleh

We made it. Just. It has been a series of highs and lows. The highs revolving around our family and the best bits of the move. The lows centred on illness, exhaustion and the weather. I don’t think either of us have ever felt this tired. And it is quite clear to me that my days of manual work are well and truly gone, although every day seems to consist of lugging and tugging about boxes and things, with my back screaming for relief. If we don’t do this again for another 10 years, that will be too soon.

But we made it – although I pen this in our spacious kitchen, sitting on a sofa (don’t you know) surrounded by boxes and paper. We’re not there yet. But we are getting there.

We look less I’ll than we felt

Christmas was as fab as it might have been. We arrived ar the Birmingham AirBnB about the same time as Rebecca, Steven and Henry. Smack in the middle of the city and just a 15 minute walk from the Bull Ring, it was spacious, warm and modern. However … Steven was unwell with a poorly tummy, and Henry had been up and down all week. What we know is that when he’s not well, he’s not happy, and we do all seem to get a bit. Anyhow, we walked into the Christmas market, which was lovely, and then woke up on Christmas Eve with a view that we would all do our last minute shopping. But. Steven was still poorly (he did make it into town) and I started having awful stomach cramps … although as a brave boy, I did take Henry off on my own so everyone else had some space. He was fab. But I was not happy.

Birmingham was fab

The rest of the day was a blur to me. Steven had now developed a head cold as well as a poorly tummy. And I was never more than a dash from the loo, feeling wretched. Christmas Day was slightly better and C cooked an amazing lunch. But by the end of the day none of us were feeling great. C spent the night with her head over a bucket and neither Steve nor I were right. Henry reminded us that he wasn’t feeling his best (although his reaction to presents was something I’ll never forget), which was understandable but a bit miserable. Boxing Day was a right off for C. I was unwell again, and then Bex started feeling poorly. Ugh. 

We all parted our separate ways on the 27th. Bex, Steven and Henry on their family tour by train. C and I heading home where we still had a long list of things to get done in the old place before we were due to move on the 30th. To complicate things I developed a cough which then became a chest infection. C now had a cold and her tummy wasn’t right … and then, all of a sudden, my tummy came back to haunt me. How does that work? It was all pretty wretched, especially as we had so much to do. 

Enough of the illnesses. So many of our friends have been unwell. A lot of them much more poorly and for a more prolonged time than we suffered for. And none of it was that bad that it prevented us from moving up here to Uley on the 30th – and immediately falling in love with the place. We had come from a four room, small, two-floor, end of terrace, to an eight room bungalow, where the main rooms are twice as big as our originals. The place is heated by groundsource and airsource heat pumps and solar thermal on the roof. It is warm and, because it’s an eco house of sorts, we’re not uncomfortably trying to conserve every ounce of heat. As such it’s toasty, which is lovely considering the Godawful weather. And the views are to die for. We’re v lucky. And it’s going to be fab. 

Views are great

Then we had a houseful. On purpose … but not without trepidation. Alasdair and Annie came round for NYE, and we popped over to Peter and Karen (aka The Landlords) for supper. C cooked a delightful meal for all of us, and we just about made it to midnight. By which time I have never felt so tired. 

But, early doors on the 1st I drove to Penkridge to collect Bex, Steven and Henry, with the ambition of a family gathering on the 2nd. Henry, now right as rain, was a delight and loved having all the room. And goodness, what a difference ‘having room’ makes. Our four years in Bradley Stoke was an opportunity which turned into a bit of a marathon. I loved it there but, in the end, it just wasn’t big enough. On the 2nd we were joined by Jen and James (+ Cassie) … and C’s sister, Annie. And the house – all on one level which is just brilliant – soaked it all up. It was easily our best family day for as long as anyone can remember. Brilliant, just brilliant. And worth all the effort.

a houseful

I took Bex, Steven and Henry to Gatwick on the 3rd and since then C and I have been heads down getting this place sorted. Except … heading out in the car with the five of us on New Year’s Day the old Focus had a fit. In her defence she had been sat in a v exposed place to some quite horrendous weather and to proclaim her frustration, all of her engine management lights went on and I feared the worse. But she started and the lights went out after a short while. And she made it to Gatwick. But the fault persisted. I had two v early – and v nervous – starts on the 5th and 6th, working down in Bradley Stoke. First was to meet the two Poles and a van (who brought our furniture up here and were fab); and second was a meeting with our electrician. I couldn’t miss either appointment. And, in any case, we were due to drive to Chatel later in the month. What to do?

two Poles and a van

Well, the fault persisted but, other than mildly reducing acceleration, the old girl was fine. How fine though? Would she, at any time, not start? We couldn’t cope with the jeopardy of having a broken car and we started talking about finding a replacement. And then I had an idea. There is a persistent fault on the black and green LED trip computer screen which, significantly, is always worse in the wet. Perhaps a new instrument cluster might solve the problem?  I removed the panel (to make sure I could) looked on eBay (about £50 with no guarantee) and eventually spoke to a local scrapyard. We went there today and for £15 extracted a replica from a broken Focus. And here’s the funny thing. Since I’d taken the panel out and put it back in again, the fault’s gone. And I have a spare cluster. Hopefully that’s it? Who knows.

this might do the trick

That’s us for now. We still have a good load of boxes to unpack. We’re seeing Mary on Monday and I’m starting my work on ghostwriting a book for a pal of mine, more of which later, on Tuesday. Hopefully, weather permitting (there’s v little snow), we’re off skiing at the end of next week for a month. That’s the plan, anyway. 

Stay safe everyone. And if you get the bug, maybe keep away from vulnerable people until you’re feeling better? It is knocking some people sideways for a v long time.  

2022 Cat’s letter

Hi everyone, as always see below this year’s cat’s letter which Roland and Claire send separately to all their family and friends. We wish you a very happy Christmas and a successful new year.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Deck the halls …

You would have thought it was all sweetness and light up here? All fluffy clouds, choirs of angels, an abundance of Whiskers and scented litter trays? Yes, there is lots of that. But there is also disappointment. You can see it in the faces of the senior team. Pete ‘of the gates’ is not his usual welcoming self. He’s more emphatic. Less inclined to be generous, if that makes sense. And he now has a clipboard. There’s an overwhelming feeling of melancholy. That no matter what we do, what opportunities we provide, you still seem to make a hash of it. Look at it from up here. We see war and strife, hunger and poverty. There’s corruption and greed. Disease. And there’s a disregard for the place you call home. We are trying … but we could do with a little help.

It’s fair to say that the Ladleys think they’re doing their bit. And, bless them, they do try. 2022 has been quite a year for all of them and it’s not over yet. They’ve managed to avoid major disaster and, I have to say, are cheery enough with their lot. I keep an eye on them while I’m doing my best to keep the pesky rodents under control … so I may not have the full story. But here goes.

Bex, Steven and Henry finished off in Seoul mid-year and the adults both took teaching posts in Riyadh, where the sun is relentless and the Daiquiri’s adorned with pretty umbrellas, but no alcohol – boo!). The move wasn’t without incident – more of which later – but they quickly settled into a very good school and are loving the challenge. Henry (who is now two – where do those years go?) has a lovely nanny and is free to reign over the compound on his scooter … or bob about in the pool, which is right outside their front door. They’ve made some more lovely friends and look to exploit the holidays to quench their thirst for travel. Henry already has more air miles than a city exec, but he remains more fascinated with trains than planes. We are very proud of their ambition and commitment. 

Jennifer and James have been the most stable of the lot. They’re still in Gloucester (with a new kitchen) and James holds the fort with a good job in programming. Jen may well be, at last, making some progress with her ailments. Still short of a spleen and a chunk of her pancreas, she was pretty poorly in the autumn. But a feeding tube seems to have set her straight. She remains stoic against considerable odds, moving from dog accessory maker, to computer art, and now all fingers and thumbs with crochet needles and wool, delivering some pretty spectacular garments. Still with two cats and a dog, the menagerie – of which I include Jen and James – are as happy a group as you could wish to meet.    

The adults have had a bit of a year. After skiing in Chatel, Mum and Dad took Doris (the van) to Ireland for a month in the Spring … and then Spain in the autumn for six weeks, where they attended a nephew’s wedding on Ibiza. Forever striving to be unconventional (and with an eye on their carbon footprint) they travelled the final leg of the journey – including an overnight ferry – by bicycle. Dad was all, ‘isn’t this fab?’. Mum’s like, ‘how am I going to get the creases out of my dress, you idiot?’. They can report that Spain was spectacular, and it is definitely next autumn’s getaway.

In May they took their friend Mary to Italy for another wedding, which was wonderful … apart from the bout of covid that beset them all. And, in the summer, having promised to fly to Saudi with Bex and Steven to provide child care until a plan was in place, Dad’s mum got very poorly and so they stayed behind for a few weeks – with Henry. It’s a complicated story, but involves visas and suchlike. Grandma was OK a couple of weeks later, but the minor trauma of looking after the elderly and the young concurrently, followed by a month in the fan oven which is Riyadh, wore their batteries down. Let’s face it, they’re not getting any younger.

Throughout Mum continues to knit and steady the ship. Dad taps away writing (book 8 in the Sam Green series is To She Who Waits), longingly hoping that one day he will sell some books that mean something. Anything, frankly. But the biggest news by far is that they are moving. At last. Their two-up, two-down in Bradley Stoke has been a darling of a home, but in the Henry-era, it’s not big enough. They’re not moving far. Friends of theirs have an estate in the Cotswolds (it’s as grand as it sounds, let me tell you) and Mum and Dad are taking a cottage there. Mum’s looking forward to living in the country and having more room (three beds, a study and utility room!). Dad’s determined to tell everyone ‘we’re moving to Dursley’, because there’s nothing more conventional than the Cotswolds, and he can’t be having that. Their new address, which is live now, is at the bottom of the page. And, excitement of excitement, after AirBnBing it in Birmingham for Christmas with Bex, Steven & Henry, they’ve got Jen and James and close friends around their new place for New Year. Build it and they shall come! 

Me? Well, I’m OK. I don’t take back my opening sentiment, by the way: you’ll all idiots in my book. Well, not completely. Thankfully you did get rid of Trump and Bolsanaro (my mate Pete is so looking forward to meeting them on the steps one day – he has a speech, a wagging finger and What3Words location to disdainfully hand out). Closer to home I’ll keep my views of the British political leadership to myself, but I have to add that it’s marvellous to welcome the other Majesty a couple of months ago. Leaving aside her corgi obsession, she’s already proving to be an asset … we’re all on our toes a little, which is no bad thing.     

Stay safe. And have a lovely Christmas and an incident free New Year.

Now:

Courtyard Cottage, Owlpen Hall, Owlpen, GL11 5BX

Roland: 07795 314423 Claire: 07585 667106

the.wanderlings@gmail.com

Second hand man

It’s a bit on the chilly side, no? This morning we walked through the local nature reserve (ending up at Greggs, which surprised me) and the view was delightful. Our little house is keeping nicely warm. The beading insulation is doing its job and whilst we have the heating on, I don’t think it’s working as hard as it might. We have built up quite a saving with our energy company (because we’re often not here) so that helps, as does the £66 a month we’re getting back from the government. Clearly this needs to be better targeted so that people like us, who can afford it, don’t get the benefit. That will come I hope. Anyway the big freeze is about to end on Sunday (up to 13 degrees?) before it chills again for Christmas. Sorry … I write all of this as a day doesn’t go by without the image of some poor homeless veteran (or, indeed, anyone) freezing in a shop doorway somewhere entering my mind. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

We have cleared quite a lot of the house, with five trips up to the stable. It’s been complicated because we have to keep stuff here for C and I, and also for the kids (Bex and Steven and Henry) who arrive tomorrow, and then onto Christmas where we’re all gathering at an AirBnB in Birmingham … before we finally move to Uley on 30 December. Anyhow, we are getting there. C has packed all the boxes and I have lugged and carried them to designated places. When the three Poles and a van turn up in early January there should be nothing left other than furniture. That’s the ambition. 

There is still a lot to do. Every room needs touching up. We have an electrical test scheduled for Monday with our new, friendly female sparky. The garden is sorted (the odd paving slab relaid) but, inevitably, there’s some little bits to do out there. It all takes longer than you plan. 

C’s been cooking for Christmas: fridge cake, something to do with parmesan and biscuits, the cake, etc. She has, as she always does, been piling up some goodies. I think we both agreed that this year we’re going to step back a little and try and spend less, and that includes presents. Whilst we are better off than most, the house move isn’t free and we’ve had a number of pretty eye-watering bills (like a new boiler in a house) and one or two more to come. Getting this place ready for letting is also not cheap, either. You can put those costs against tax, but you only get 20% back … so it all adds up. But, I do think we work very hard at making the pennies turn into pounds. Internet (motorhome) pals of ours still run a detailed budget like we did when we were living in Doris (£50 a day, pretty much all in) and we remain committed to that sort of fiscal policy. Hence Greggs. 

hence Greggs

We’re also into second hand stuff now more than ever – it’s as much environmental as well as financial. I won’t buy anything new if I can get it from FB marketplace or Gumtree. We needed a new airer for the back garden as our previous one had rusted. A nice chap near Ikea had one for sale. Perfect.  We get – I certainly do – a good deal of pleasure making ends meet, recycling and fixing things (a carriage on the Christmas train set; the arm on a tiny smoking man) and saving. Does it make me boring? Sure it does. At times it can drive C a little nuts. But she does incredibly well running the housekeeping account. I often remind her that it was her saving, when we were in Doris, that allowed us to take excursions to Turkey, The Bahamas, multiple skiing trips, New York, Washington and Tunisia, among others. Our kids are always telling us to splash some cash. Maybe they’re right. Maybe. 

got to keep Doris’s panels free of snow

We spent today in Doris, sorting things. Bex and Steven use her as a studio apartment when they come here (Henry sleeps with us). C’s put up some Christmas decorations and I started – in lovely, cold sunshine – on a long snagging list we had put together whilst we were in Spain. One of the ‘lifting’ kitchen cupboard doors is loose; the wooden seating has worked loose and the hinge slops around. So I took it apart and filled the screw holes with decent wood filler. Hopefully tomorrow the screws will now tighten.

door fixing …

Which brings me onto … tomorrow. I’m due to pick the kids up at 7 pm from Gatwick (I shall drive via Mary’s). And then all hell breaks loose. C found a really decent second hand micro scooter for the lad last week (like the one he has in Saudi). As a result I bought a ‘No Fear’ adult scooter for £15 yesterday. You know what? No fear is not an apposite description. There’s a lot of fear associated with scootering, I can tell you. Small wheels and tall man. I’ll be in more danger than Henry, I think.

My next post will be from Broadmead A&E I feel.

Oh … and I did our tax returns

Stay safe.            

How much?

It’s been a bit of a time, in that we have continued to pack and sort and move, whilst trying to keep a few other balls in the air. First the house we own (which we are renting) needed a new cooker and three new heaters. (It also needs semi-redecorating and some other peripheral stuff doing.) Anyhow, I broke the cooker. Well, I didn’t break it. I sort of, not fixed it, if you know what I mean. We didn’t want to leave the nearly new, expensive cooker for the tenants. It wasn’t a decision made on cost, but on complexity – easily the cheapest option would have been to leave the almost £800 cooker in place, rather than take it out, wrap it up and leave it in the garage cooking nothing. But it requires degree-level qualifications to operate and we were worried we might over-face our tenants (whomever they may be) and end up with a broken NEFF … and some angry tenants. So we bought the simplest of cookers from Currys and, in half an hour, I took one out and put one back in again.

[image error] before I broke everything

C then turned it on to ‘burn off the smells of a new unit’. There was a smell and, after 10 minutes, the house fused. I took it out again, had a good look at my handiwork, couldn’t see a problem and put it back in again. C stuck it on and it worked … fine. But there was that lingering doubt, you know? We had an elusive electrician due sometime at the end of the month. And he would check everything (it’s the law) and give, among other things, the cooker the thumbs up. But C wanted to use it between now and then, and I wasn’t happy about just leaving it there. So we phoned ‘electricians R us’ and they had someone round the next morning (at £120 per hour, would you believe … this was likely turning out to be an expensive decision).

Emma was her name. And she was lovely. She took everything apart, found a loose earth wire, put it back together again and charged us for an hour (having spent two with us). And she also agreed that she would do the electrical check on an exact date (which our elusive electrician was currently struggling with) for half the price of our original quote. Result! So maybe it wasn’t so expensive after all?

new lungs for the old girl

Along with plenty of other pushing and pulling, including changing the oil and filter in the Focus (a treat for passing her MoT; total cost: £28 plus 40 minutes of my labour), we spent a day up at our new place with P&K sorting out space in their garage/stables complex. One outcome of which was a whole stable freed up for C and I to use as a shed. Fabulous. As a result we’ve driven three loads of gear up … of probably eight, between now and when the three Poles and their van turn up in early January. So that’s all looking fab. 

The other good news is that there is snow in Chatel (we’re about six weeks short of getting on the ferry) and the slopes open this weekend.  And the current batch of cold weather has us getting in the mood. One job between now and when we move is to wax and edge our skis. We’ve promised ourselves new pairs for years, but what with one thing and another we haven’t got around to it. This year, with the costs associated with moving home, we’re sticking with a hot iron, a rusty file and a tub of wax. Hasn’t let us down so far!

and we made a Christmas tree

We’re now at Mary’s for a couple of days to help with her birthday party (on Sunday) and I’m popping up to see mum tomorrow (Saturday). Then, next week, it’s back into the groove … because on Friday evening I’m off to pick up Henry! (Oh, and Bex and Steven.) My world will then be complete.

Stay safe everyone. 

It’s all blooming go

First the good news. Actually it’s all pretty good … in that we’ve spent the last five days working relentlessly together in a small space and we’ve only almost got divorced once. Two chiefs, I’m afraid. And I’m rubbish at taking orders, which is not a good trait. (C reads this so I wouldn’t dare comment on her ability to do the same.)

Task one … sort garage

The Focus passed her MoT. Some work was required on the front suspension (£250 + VAT) and we got two nearly new winter tyres fitted on her front on top of that. That was as good as I could have expected and she seems set fair for another trip to Chatel in January and, hopefully, beyond. But it was better than that. First, as she was due her MoT at the beginning of October when we were at a wedding in Ibiza, delaying her beyond her due date means that next year we get to MoT her at about now, which is a much better time for us. Second, Sam’s garage in central Bristol is proving to be fabulous. They are efficient and knowledgeable. The girl at the front desk (actually it’s just a table at the entrance to the garage) knows as much about cars as anyone I know, and they are polite and efficient. They also fit nearly new tyres, which is perfect for a car which might not make it through another year. We put on winter tyres because of Chatel … and they come in at £35 a pop with plenty of tread. I think that’s good news. Finally, it meant we weren’t without a car (and scrambling around to get a new one, inevitably making poor decisions under pressure) when we really needed the time to …

just the start of the stuff from the attic

… start packing. Our new place is a three-bed cottage on friends’ of ours (Peter and Karen)’s estate. I choose my words carefully: it is definitely an estate. The place is lovely, nestled on the edge of the Cotswolds overlooking the Severn estuary. It’s a bungalow – sort of – definitely not in the traditional Privet Drive sense. And the floorplan is at least twice what we have now, which is what we need. And there’s 90 acres to roam in. We are letting and renting, which obviously comes at a cost to us (bigger and better place means more cash), but it’s all workable in the Roland Ladley spreadsheet sense. Why not sell and buy, you ask? Many reasons. First P&K’s place is not for sale! But seriously, it gives us huge flexibility, should we need it (which we may not). And, frankly, buying and selling probably costs in the region of £30k … and, we couldn’t be completely sure that we would be happy in the chosen area (unless we moved up a bedroom in Bradley Stoke, but even then we couldn’t legislate for our new neighbours). 

snow in Chatel already

And the beauty is, the cottage was offered when we were in dithering mode. As such it has sharpened our desire and we have got on with it. Otherwise C reckons we wouldn’t be doing anything before next summer. It would just drag. 

Which brings me onto moving as a short term occupation. Goodness it’s a pain in the neck, isn’t it? Our attic was jam packed … in an orderly, but still very full way. It has taken us three days, some sore backs, many trips to the dump, the charity shop and a full re-sort of our garage (which we are keeping), and we are just about there. Just. Did I mention frayed tempers? If not, should have done. Anyhow, the attic is empty, less Chrimbo decorations, and we are much closer to being ready to move. There is still, however, a lot to do. 

[image error]

The garden has some work needed (relaying paving slabs etc). The fuse boxes need upgrading (there are new rules for rented properties, and we need an electrical test which, thankfully, lasts 5 years). The curtains need replacing. The place needs touching up. We are taking out our new and v expensive oven and replacing it with a simpler, cheaper version. We need three new heaters upstairs. And I need to seal the kitchen floor. But, looking to my wallet, it’s not as bad as all that. We bought most of what we needed today (B&Q, Currys, Dunelm Mill and Amazon) for £550. Which we can place against tax. (Hurrah.)

We intend to take the cottage from 30 December, which may seem like an odd time to move, but it means that Bex, Steven and Henry can have their last few days in the UK – before they fly back to Saudi – in a bigger house, rather than squatting in Doris. I’ve booked three Poles with a van for 5 Jan (£250, that’s good, isn’t it?), and the man from the estate agents came around this morning and thinks he’ll have tenants just after that. (Which would be nice.)

Anyhow. That’s us. We are off to supper with Al and Annie tomorrow night to compare French/Spanish motorhome trip notes, and either side of that it’s heads down on packing and sorting. We will look back on this time with fondness, assuming that we haven’t moved into separate properties at either end of the country at that point.

Stay safe and keep warm; the temperatures are dropping.          

Red letter day on Monday

In some ways it’s been a good period for democracy and centrist politics. Doubtless with lots of support (much seen, but a lot unseen), Ukraine looks like it’s giving Russia a bloody nose. I stand by my prediction that there will be regime change this month, although I am running out of days. What that country and its army (and Zelensky) has done is something close to miraculous, although I think we all overplayed the actual operational strength of the Russian army. Long may that continue.

Doris all lonely in Calais

Boris Johnson is out of politics for a while, maybe forever. Hurrah! Sure the Tories may turn to him to bolster their chances in an election sometime in the future, but I think the last 18 months have completely scuppered any chance of a revival anytime soon. Truss’s attempt to run the country along libertarian grounds has been blown out of the water and what we are left with is the same old worn out ministers, but now wearing different hats. I have no doubt that a number of them bully their way through office, which might be acceptable if they were competent and hard working and not in it for themselves. But, I’m not a fan of leadership by sharp diktat – or throwing things – as it doesn’t get the best from people. But it grudgingly works for some. But not Raab, Williamson, Baverman and Patel. And Sunak has shown his colours too, hasn’t he? Watch him under interview pressure. He can quickly turn into a sourpuss.

loved a couple of stops on the way back through France

On the downside we’re all suffering (a £55bn black hole) from Truss’s dally into economic policy madness. Which brings me onto Brexit. The UK is being shown as having the worst recovery in the G7 and whilst some of that can be put down to Truss’s choices, the underlying weakness is closing down free trade with our closest neighbour (and the ability to slip labour east and west to fill gaps in the job market). But, for the first time people are talking about the elephant in the room. And that conversation is gathering pace. It’s unlikely that we will rejoin the EU, certainly in my lifetime, but we may well come back to the Customs’ Union. That’s what I’d like to see.    

In the US the Democrats have done well in the midterms which, at one point, seemed unlikely. That’s down to two things. First President Biden is actually doing a good job. I like him. I know he’s old and prone to gaffs, but you really sense he wants what’s best for the US (and the world) and is prepared to reach for it. His support for Ukraine has been outstanding, taking much of the world with him and making a real difference. He speaks his mind on things that matter to him (Taiwan and China, for example) and seems less inclined to worry about what people think. The other plus is that Trump, who is a despicable man, looks like he has blown his political career. Most of the leaders he supported in the midterms, failed. And his proclamation about running for president in 2024 has been met with scorn on both the left and the right. He is a spent force … and he might be in jail soon. Hurrah squared.

My missing Spain face

Bolsonaro has lost in Brazil. He was Trump on steroids and already his left wing replacement (Lula) has wrapped his arms around the Amazon rainforest … which leads me onto climate change. COP27 has yet to come to a close and we are nowhere near panicking as much as we should be. I’m all for Stop Oil and XR. I know they’re a pain in the arse when, at the moment, all of our nerves are shredded. But when you’re in one of their traffic jams think about your kids … and grandkids. The suffragettes blew up buildings, set fire to stuff, carried out all sorts of terrorist malarky. And yet, today, they are revered. Rightly so. I sense that those fighting today will end up with the same accolades. Afterall, after the recent autumn statement Insulate Britain have won their battle. We may be beginning to see sense.

So, overall, it seems the madness of popularism may well have run its course and run its course quickly. Common sense may well have prevailed.

back to English breakfasts

We are back, at Mary’s, until tomorrow. And then it’s all hands to the pump. Kids are back from Saudi in mid-December for Christmas, which is literally a few weeks away. We have a house to pack up and prepare to let. There’s a whole lot of other stuff to do and I have yet to start book 9. I’m normally 60/70k words in by now. Am I worried? No. I pulled off of Black Bulls and White Horses in a single Spring in 2020, so I can manage it again. Why am I late? Well, Sam Green came to a bit of a sticky end by the time you finished To She Who Waits. And our summer in the UK was rubbish … and a break was needed. Spain managed that.

Finally we have a hurdle on Monday. Our 16-year-old Ford Focus is due its MoT on Monday. And I’m not confident. If she fails with a fix-list as long as your arm I think she’s destined for the scrappy, I’m afraid. We’ll then be in a mad rush to find a replacement. We have some ideas and some money saved. What we don’t have is the time. There’s a lot to do. 

winter’s coming

Anyhow, keep safe everyone.

On our way home

You’ll have noticed that I have stayed off politics. There is too much of it. Climate change, the US mid-terms, the state of the current Tory party, the economy and cost of living crisis leading to (likely) further austerity measures. Hancock in the jungle. The Qatar world cup. Iran. And, of course, Ukraine, where a people are putting everything on the line for us. There is so much happening, all of which I have a view on, none of which you want to hear.

loving the Costa Brava

What have we been up to? Well, we’re now in France. Indeed we’ve just had lunch at the Millau aire (pronounced, meeow, apparently) overlooking Norman Foster’s absolute masterpiece of a bridge. An hour later we’re ensconced by a beautiful lake just off the only decent bit of free autoroute in France, the A75, which joins Montpellier and Clement-Ferrand. We plan to stop here tomorrow and then head up to Calais in three days. It’s all v relaxing.

Meeeow bridge

And, it’s fair to say, we’ve fallen in love with Spain as a motorhome destination. The people are lovely, the coastline is accessible, the weather better than anywhere you can drive a bus to, things are inexpensive and there’s a lot to see. The Costa Brava, which we have just left (which included a fab 35-mile cycle from the excellent Greco/Roman ruins at L’Escala to the upmarket, Spanish Saint-Tropez-lookalike of Roses) is ideal. Sure, it’s not quite so MH friendly in that there aren’t that many aries and the rocky bits of the coast are more difficult to get at, but it is v beautiful. That bit of coastline was a fitting end to our Spanish odyssey and, notwithstanding an act of God, we’ll be back next autumn. Hopefully for a bit longer.

beautiful stop by a lake

As I said last time, we have got into the groove. Doris has been perfect, the two, 100AH li-ion leisure batteries are, for me, a life saver (happy to take questions on that). I just don’t worry about power anymore. And, you’ll be pleased to hear, the new starter motor which my pal John and I fitted a couple of months ago has been spinning like a good un. I have spent some time cleaning all the marks off Doris’s bodywork and oiled all of the things which need oiling. I even found time yesterday to service the bikes, a job I was expecting to have to do when we got back.

Which brings me onto December. There’s a lot to do. Both the car and Doris need an MoT. We need to downsize our kit again and prepare our stuff for our move to our new place in early January. At the same time our current place needs sorting for rental, which isn’t uncomplicated. And there are a raft of other things which need tackling – our tax returns, which I do myself, are one of those. Bex, Steven and Henry fly into Gatwick in mid-December and immediately hand the lad over to us so they can have a three-night break (yippee – and I mean that!). And then it’s Christmas … and then we move … and then we go skiing. And during that time I have to link up with my Army pal, for whom I penning his travelogue. 

cafe culture = bar culture

So the break has been sorely needed. Sure, we count our blessings every day. We are so much better placed to live our lives than most people. My retort to C when we’re feeling a bit down is, ‘we could be rushing back so I can get into work’. That. of course, is not really on the list. As such, how lucky are we? 

Stay safe everyone.