Got up, went out. The usual pattern. The usual clothes. We have been living like gypsies. I get out of bed, put on socks, dress on top of nightie, jeans, jumper, coat and boots - without even thinking. Making a decision about what to wear takes time, which is at a premium. so we wear the same clothes day in day out. I haven't been naked for three days - preparing ourselves physically as well as practically for the trip.
The caravan is looking good. I can see it finished in my mind's eye, I can imagine overtaking us on a Spanish motorway, seeing ourselves reflected in the mirrored, buffed up aluminium surface. I imagine it in slow motion. I have restored the front, the back and part of one side. The transformation is attracting interest. Today, I conversed with a couple who could remember the caravan 'the first time round'. Prestigious in those days, it seems. I imagine a cocktail cabinet, or optics dotted around the confined space inside. Bill came and chatted about Spain and architecture - I think he rarely has the chance to talk of these 'high minded' topics amongst his social circle. Yesterday, a 95 year old man recited love poetry to me, something he had written for his wife. He tells me she isn't interested in the same things that he is. A cyclist stopped just to see what was going on and we chatted for a while about destinations and hard work. It's good being amongst the people, and lovely to share these revelations.
Cleared out the girls' room. After panicking for months that the electrics in the loft were faulty, we found out the extension lead had been unplugged. Paul didn't even have to change the fuse. I went through the room methodically. Clearing the products of childrens long forgotten activities from under beds and cupboards. A hard job. I sorted - to children we know; car boot (saleable) and charity shop. Some things have to go. Not recyclable. There will be more rubbish than recycling this week. It will be a first.
I had a bath tonight. I had forgotten what my body looked like.
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