New Plans

The date of departure has been pushed back a week - hopefully we shall be leaving about the 17th, and we breath a sigh of relief for the extra time. After the general outrage of having to notify banks, mortgage company, insurance companies, fill in forms, modify the house, and store our horde to 'allow' us to let our own home, we have decided not to - we will live on less when we're travelling instead. I can now spend my time finishing the caravan and planning our route.

Farms on helpx (www.helpx.net) have been selected and emails sent. Galicia, Portugal, and Granada, goats, pigs, horses and dry stone walls beckon. We will restore, clear, build and garden in return for free food and accomodation. I have even applied for work in a hotel and bar, an incentive to improve my rubbish Spanish. All we do now is sit back and wait for the replies, and see what we are offered.

I bumped into Fred again today, all spruced up with his too big shirt and jumper over his extravagant neckerchief. Today he recited a poem about death, and told me of his time as a dispatch rider in the war. I ask him to see his poetry some time, the quality of it is astounding, and he remembers every line and delivers them with passion belying his 94 years. He walks off slowly with his one walking stick for support, looking like the slightest breeze will blow him over - such spirit in such a fragile frame.

I am back to work on the caravan and realise I now have time to polish it to near perfection. Tomorrow I will rebuild the bathroom (not at all as grand as it sounds) and buff the upper panels. The girls work in their caravan school house, contented.