Tag: Permanent Road Trip

From Wage Slaves to Living the Dream – Our First Book in Print!

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We are delighted to announce that our first book is now available on Amazon, just  in time for Christmas! Continue reading “From Wage Slaves to Living the Dream – Our First Book in Print!”

Paradise Found! Camping La Chassagne, Auvergne, France

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Paradise Found!

I tend to fill the kettle and leave it on the hob the night before. In the compact living space of the caravan, this means that all I need to do is lean out of bed to reach the knob to switch it on for my morning coffee!

The occupants of the tent next door were up early; it was 07:30. The smell of toast wafted into the caravan. I love the morning smells of a campsite. In Britain, the delicious smell of bacon frying…

My reverie was interrupted by the shrill screech of the smoke alarm. I shot out of bed. The kettle was still cold! It seems that half asleep, in semi-darkness and without my glasses, I had turned on the grill rather than the hob. Crumbs in the grill pan explained the smell of toast as they heated up to the point of near combustion… Thank goodness for the smoke alarm. Otherwise maybe WE would have been toast! Continue reading “Paradise Found! Camping La Chassagne, Auvergne, France”

A Change of Heart – & A Change of Direction!

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Ruby gazes wistfully out of the caravan window. “It’s too hot to do anything!”

The temperature in Brittany continued to hover in the mid 30°s. With hardly a breath of wind, I found it too hot to do anything. The poor dogs were expiring.

Then we met a Dutch guy who lived in Portugal, our planned destination. He said that the temperature there was breaking records and pushing an unprecedented 50°C! Continue reading “A Change of Heart – & A Change of Direction!”

Beacon 6 & Black Magic in Brittany – And All Because the Lady Loves… Poole to Penthièvre, France

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The Exquisite Light at Poole Harbour

6am and our ferry ‘Barfleur’ slid across a Poole harbour so smooth that it seemed almost solid. The water glistened like a jewelled mirror, just as it had on so many wonderful days when we had flown across its surface on our windsurfers.

Poole Harbour is a very special place. The light is exquisite and unique. Everything seems keen and in focus. Even the air surrounding you seems to shimmer with the brilliance of a magnesium flare; sharp and clear, as though it is charged with its own strange energy.

Poole is Europe’s largest natural harbour and its excellence for windsurfing is partly because it is shallow – so shallow that in the huge expanse of water, you can stand waist-deep almost everywhere! Needless to say, large ferries need to stay in a well-dredged shipping channel to avoid grounding. Professional pilots are employed by large ships to guide them safely out of Poole harbour.

A small boat accompanied us across the harbour. “Do you think that’s our Pilot boat?” I asked Mark. “I doubt it.” He replied. “It’s got ‘Captain Cod’ written on the side!” Continue reading “Beacon 6 & Black Magic in Brittany – And All Because the Lady Loves… Poole to Penthièvre, France”

A Brief Bark Around Britain – The Thames Path, The National Watersports Festival & ‘A Bit of a ‘Do”!

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My wardrobe reflected my lifestyle of the last two years. And meet our Lagonda!

We had to go to a ‘Do’.

My schoolfriend’s mum – my “Other Mother” – Mrs H – had invited me to celebrate her 80th Birthday.

It threw me into apoplexy.

My entire wardrobe reflected a lifestyle which, for the last two years, had consisted of living in a catering-size Corned Beef tin with the many paws; sixteen of them – and generally muddy or sandy ones at that.

When I said it, I really did mean it. “I haven’t got a THING to wear!” Continue reading “A Brief Bark Around Britain – The Thames Path, The National Watersports Festival & ‘A Bit of a ‘Do”!”

We Pack Up Our Troubles & Climb Back Into The Bubble!

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“Oh to be in England / Now that April’s there” It was a bit wet and windy, to be honest!

“Oh to be in England /Now that April’s there…” wrote Robert Browning in his poem ‘Home Thoughts From Abroad‘. Like us, he happened to be in Northern Italy at the time.

However, on April Fools Day, after two years on the road, we arrived back in the UK. Never mind the chaffinch singing on the orchard bough, we were finding it quite novel to be staying in a house, rather than a caravan.  Continue reading “We Pack Up Our Troubles & Climb Back Into The Bubble!”

Zen and the Art of Caravan Maintenance – From Garda to Gressoney, Italy

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Camping Margherita – Gressoney St Jean

Mark made a sly, nocturnal foray on to the roof of the caravan with a set of clippers.

The following day, we found a note on the caravan requesting our presence at the Campsite Reception. With our history of evictions, we were more than a little worried. Continue reading “Zen and the Art of Caravan Maintenance – From Garda to Gressoney, Italy”