3 days work has been completed from the inside of my over-heated metal box, given temperatures of late 20s to 30 degrees outside. I have taken the suggestion of a friend to do some paddle-boarding before! work given that we are an hour ahead of the UK, the sea is beautiful and calm and the beaches empty, so no-one needs to see my unsteady attempts to do the stand-up thing rather than reverting to kayak mode.
I have also taken the opportunity of cooling off at lunchtime by diving off the rocks at the beach, spending 20 minutes or so there, before returning back to my desk.
After work yesterday I cycled to Trogir and the medieval walled centre was worth the visit. Full of restaurants and cafes in amongst the narrow little streets, and very slippy, shiny paving stones, worn down by so many feet over the years.
It is a beautiful spot, and the weather is perfect for being outside, but working?…. As this same friend commented about possible difficulties with focussing on work from such a holiday setting, tbh I am finding combining the two abit of a challenge. I can focus on the work, it’s more the fact that I can’t enjoy this location in the way I thought I would be able to. Consequently I am now contemplating heading home sooner than I had intended. My next task will be to decide on the route back, whether I will stay somewhere halfway for a few days, and to not combine work with driving slowly but surely north. Fortunately the project I am contracted to is in a bit of a waiting for decisions from elsewhere phase, so deadlines are not in place. From the employer’s perspective, if I don’t work, they don’t pay me, so given these two factors, I have flexibility.
Life in new lanes found me today at a complete parkup on a motorway, still despite my advancing years a rare event, with a helicopter having landed further up so we were there for a duration. I was once again sitting pretty, not quite ‘on’ 😊, but due to the toilet on board, and the fact that the sun was shining, I had a coffee in my mug and was finally heading to where I have wanted to go for a long time. Lots of German, Belgian, Dutch holiday traffic, so everyone was outside of their cars, walking dogs, sharing conversation… Without the sun, it would have been perhaps a different atmosphere.
Given that it’s cost a few hundred pounds to renew my blog site domain name for the next 3 years, and what better could I be doing, I decided to type my first post for almost a year since my last trip over the channel – as I was happily waiting. That was just south of Cologne, heading for this journey’s 3rd stage destination of beyond Stuttgart.
I have had to re-assess my capacity for hours driving, as my original aims were to drive after work on Friday the 5 hours down to Canterbury, board ferry at 6am in Dover, then drive from Dunkirk across Belgium, Germany, Austria, Slovenia arriving in northern Croatia by Monday, including a shortish diversion to meet my son and girlfriend near Cologne on my birthday!!! Notwithstanding the only 2 hours sleep I had after the Stage 1 drive, prior to which I had had to put my trust in the satnav at 11:45pm leading me through dark roads, up what seemed like steep climbs in the middle of nowhere, to arrive at the council-provided official motorhome parking area. To boot, a warning light suddenly appearing and I didn’t want to find my glasses and process it whilst driving until setting off the following morning. Fantastic though Canterbury, and thanks from me, Blue and the 20 or so other vans there for the provision. The following morning, or 4:30am middle of the night, engine ignition revealed the warning to be that Adblue was needed. Thankfully after initially going through the plan to have to buy a 10-litre container of it somewhere in Dunkirk and buy another funnel to get it into the inlet on the van, my brain came up trumps with the memory of the fact that there are Adblue pumps on service stations. Sure enough, the first one I passed on the way to the ferry port had the very thing, easy peezy, stress alleviated, and better still removal off the problem list henceforth.
Notwithstanding also (1st notwithstanding was para 3 and sentence number 2) my determination to be almost the slowest vehicle on the autobahn, cruise-controlling at 58mph, resisting the all nationality and non-lorry vehicles dash to the southern coasts, by constantly reminding myself that I am time-rich and cash-poor. Because it is exciting being part of the throng of like-minded movement, seeking the mirage? of a paradise beach.
The contract I started last December is still continuing and I am delighted to be remote working, doing the most enjoyable and rewarding work of my life, so it’s coming with me on this trip as I give digital nomadery a shot, and join my new tribe – the primarily young, cool, north american vanlife vloggers.
I had originally booked a ferry from Venice to Patras for May, but cancelled this due to the amazing achievement more than 3 months ago of a Ukrainian family actually getting their visas through the shambolic British Homes4Ukraine scheme. They duly arrived to my house 11 May, and continue to establish, as best they can, a life of sorts in the UK given what Putin and his cabal have done to their country and the lives of its you and me equivalents.
Who would have predicted that 2022 would have followed a 2-year pandemic which completely upturned the world (at least my one); bringing a repeat of a Nazi dictatorship, but with the addition of nuclear power plants and the red button, even if it hasn’t gone for another holocaust of ‘others’ as a rallying, unifying, justified and worthwhile cause which recent history shows any population can be sufficiently brainwashed or rendered fearful enough for their own lives to buy into. The threat is there for us all with the slippery slope of the rise of governments appealing to usually right-wing populist simplistic tropes to maintain their ‘world-beating’ position, the gradual, imperceptible watering down, or actual removal of opposition or balancing structures of state, and the re-definition of patriotism as allegiance to the government because it is one and the same as one’s country.
Well, stepping off the soap box again ……, so there I was 2 weeks ago, contemplating going to theTwinwood vintage music festival – see my post about it from last year – when the thought suddenly presented itself that instead of paying for that over the Sat-Mon bank holiday weekend, the money and time could instead go towards crossing the channel and heading for Croatia to finally achieve some of my planned 2019 career break eastern leg.
I am delighted, and aware as ever of my life’s fortunate time, place and, still there just opportunities and days for the seizing, to be driving once again on these roads through beautiful countryside, marvelling at the engineering and infrastructure investment, this time of Germany. The A61 and A8 motorways I’m on are to be recommended – the great viaducts across wide/high vineyard-covered valleys, a volcano-area, lots of forest and just space! And in addition, my 2nd night spent on a motorhome stellplatz (small dedicated motorhome car park) provided by the town/village council – this one for 6 euros at Weilheim an Teck, last night was free. Onwards and will presumably be upwards tomorrow as I aim for a stellplatz behind an inn in Austria south of Salzburg. So that would be day 3, meaning day 4 brings me to northern Croatia to a small town called Duga Resa and a campsite stop for the luxury of two nights, with hopefully a train visit to Zagreb.
I can certainly recommend the radio station SDW giving fantastic driving companionship right up my street with mostly American/British classics from the 60s onwards all day. Belting out the below with a shoulder shimmy for you Dad …….’ interspersed with listening to stuff like an interview (of course in German) with someone who’d just been to the Robbie Williams concert in Munich, and the station playing him singing Angels with the crowd. Loving the exercise my brain at least is getting, and thinking as I drive and sing about the parts of my life spent with things German.
This has been my first visit since June 2019, before Mum’s cancer returned and finally overcame her. I have not experienced grief and sadness like this even at her death last March, and since the ending of my marriage.
The house has had 2 short visits last year, and now this September, but everything is more or less as she left it, down to the beach equipment, the crockery she assembled, her larder cupboard, the bathrooms she had done and equipped for everyone to use and so it goes on with every room. Mum you’re so missing from your special place, your achievements here, the home from home you created, just you, so far away in this beautiful part of France.
It is day two now, and despite trying to get the endorphins going with an online exercise session!, the sadness is continuing at the moment. I think I will stay here though as planned for the next 3-4 days to live with the grief, because in a way I feel it’s overdue and it is revealing, I feel, all that she meant to me subconsciously. It remains to be seen whether I will able to take joy from this place again like she would no doubt want.
The story of her ownership of this house began after she had unexpectedly lost her husband, George, was concerned about her savings as the values fell significantly at a point in 2002, and an old friend who lived in this village happened to be selling the property, Laborie, within Mum’s available funds.
Against all our (I and siblings) advice, she had made her decision and purchase it she did. There followed many years of journeys out here at the age of 62, on her own, first with Ryannair from Blackpool or Liverpool to Nimes, then Nimes airport to Nimes train station, then a train to Ales, then the local train to St Ambroix, then a taxi or perhaps pick up from her friend for the last 7km journey upto Courry. Bringing stuff out like bedding/towels in her suitcase. Ryannair stopped flying from up north to Nimes, so she flew from Luton, the train line from Ales to St Ambroix was replaced by a bus, she eventually bought her friend’s little car and parked it at Nimes airport, where each time she arrived, she had to get the car park attendants to jump lead it!
Over time she removed all the wallpaper and replaced it with white paint, she installed 3 bathrooms, via her commissioning of the local French trades of course – imagine that with ‘O’ level French – one of them replacing the little room housing an internal septic tank when mains drainage came to town. For a few years it seemed like every time you arrived, you never knew if there would be a leak from the old macerator toilet or its piping, or the original salle d’eau upstairs. That does raise a smile.
It’s as if this house embodies so many of her attributes – she was indefatiguable, determined, capable, undeterred, positive, strong, and then welcoming, hospitable, wanting us all to share in it all with her. And for the last 10 years she was able to share it with her partner Jack, who engaged with it lock, stock and barrel, and she loved and was proud of it even more. See photos of the inside at post from 2 years ago: https://lifeinnewlanes.com/french-durrells-house-via-brief-stop-at-montpellier/
My family had lovely times here with her and their messages from one particular stay – got to be approx 12 years ago – Mum had put on the wall in the living room:
Proof of vaccination or recent recovery from covid
I used the French ‘Tousanticovid’ app (from Google Playstore) which is like our NHS App. This will scan the NHS Vacc or Test QR code and load the details into the app. I scanned the paper printout of the vacc certificate from the NHS App.
The French ‘legal declaration form’ I downloaded from the French gov website linked to from our gov site travelling abroad pages; this is a form you just tick boxes in and sign to confirm that you haven’t been in contact with anyone with covid in the last period of time – think it’s 2 weeks
In the Caen port my vacc pass (I handed them the paper version) was scrutinised and compared to my passport; others travelling via Eurotunnel were simply waved through on saying they were vaccinated – I think the same for the ferry at Calais. The border guard stamped my passport, so assume the clock is now ticking down from 180 days for this period of travel in the Schengen area.
I have put a ‘GB’ sticker on the back and done the headlight beam thing.
Re Critair sticker – I got this for my previous van but forgot for this one so will ensure I don’t drive through any cities that require it.
Proof of destination in EU and return journey to UK
I was not asked for either of these and neither were my three other relatives/friends as part of their respective journeys. As of yet I haven’t organised for any tests for returning to the UK.
My sister bought a test from the UK and brought it with her for her return journey and got it certified via video that she was the one doing it, for inputting to the Passenger Locator Form, which she said took ages to do.
Taking food into France (EU)
Despite understanding that dairy, meat, fruit and veg from the UK are not allowed into the EU, consequently giving away the contents of my fridge after the festival, but keeping my hidden UHT carton, I needn’t have bothered as no interest was shown on either side of the channel. The same has been reported by my sister crossing by ferry from Dover.
Round & about
Mask wearing is required indoors and even requested in tourist outdoor spots like the villages on L’Il de Re. People are compliant re indoors certainly, and 2/3 compliant outdoors when it’s requested via a sign.
Showing the vacc pass is straightforward via the French app and is scanned in every restaurant/café I’ve been into, otherwise no entry.
Infection rates in France in the area I’ve been visiting are lower than the UK and dropping, and the vacc numbers are going up. It has become a requirement now for all health & social care workers, plus other civil servants to have at least one vacc dose. Hospital staff suspensions due to vacc refusal have been reported today via radio news.
I have not felt concerned about Covid at all, probably due to being outdoors, levels of mask wearing, and requirement to show vacc pass.
Apart from the very obvious lack of other British vehicles and the sound of English in comparison to previous years, as well as the above, everything else is as before, and people have been very friendly. There are lots of French mhome/vans on the road, also Dutch & German, although there might be less of these – difficult to tell given where I’ve been since Il de Re.
Today is the first day of my life outside of permanent employment, which I describe as semi-retirement. The past 6 months of work has been ‘something else’. I want to record here, that I was part of the NHS Digital and multiple other org team which built the Covid Vaccination National Booking System – a rollercoaster of pace of work and a privilege to be completely unexpectedly involved in.
But having come close to death (my parents and pandemic) in the past year really for the first time as an adult – how fortunate had I been! – catching Covid at Christmas and emerging so thankfully back into my previous good health, crystallized the decision that while the going was good, I could financially, and therefore should, free myself sooner of the 9-to-5, 27 days annual leave a year, in order to be able to do different things.
Travelling in the flesh, rather than via the TV or internet, in hope that the vaccination programme and other covid-reducing measures will release us from lockdown, spending time with family and friends, new pastimes such as gardening, and who knows what await. Seasonal work, some contracting, are certainly not ruled out.
My April to do list has been constructed, and first campervan trip to the Lake District has been booked for some weeks. The gardening started yesterday by a completely unpractised use of a lawnmower cutting its own power cable despite my clocking (obviously half-heartedly) that I needed to be keeping the blades away from it! I have long recognised that I learn by reading repeatedly about the theory of stuff, but the fragments of knowledge only come together to complete the jigsaw once the doing starts. And I certainly learn by the ‘I won’t do that again’ type of doing. 🙂 Fortunately where the cable was cut was reasonably close to the plug end, so I can move this, and get mowing again. Happy Days.
Time to record some changes with a post as I sit in my new, used, home on wheels, with its few-days maiden testing voyage to the sunny climes of Norfolk having been successfully achieved.
I have finally downsized, parting with my beloved 7m Monte2 in exchange for a 6m Citroen Relay-based van from british manufacturers ‘Wildax’, most likely to be known as ‘Blue’.
Just as my house building project was coming to an end, I would not have normally wanted to add into the mix the part exchange of my second home, along with making a final decision about whether I was crossing the Channel for a 3-week annual leave road trip as planned from 28/8. But my target vans become available so rarely, added to which this one was being sold from Skipton, just 20 or so miles from Harrogate. It would appear the van had my name on it, as it turned out to be one that I went to view at a Kendal dealer the previous year!
The completion of the transaction and handover did bring a tear to my eye, and with Stephen the broker obviously not able to empathise, we agreed that to him Monte2 was just a commodity – another “tin of beans”. For me it represented lots of memories of good travelling times with family, had been a great home while travelling last year, and a great office during the last few months while my house was being knocked about. Of course I know it’s just an inanimate object but I’m not ashamed to hereby state my affection and gratitude for it, with hope that it will pass to a next owner who will value it as much as I have.
So have the risks I ran in swapping my ultra-reliable, everything-working Monte2 for an unknown potential more trouble than it’s worth , materialised? So far no! Delighted with everything but will acknowledge that shutting the sliding door and putting it into reverse takes some heft. And, always looking for improvement ( or “never satisfied”) I’m already deciding the hacks that need doing to it. But out of all its great features, the best has to be ………. the WINDOWSILL.
As for the other significant accommodation, 6 months on from a lockdown-interrupted realisation of my vision, it has finally been achieved. It’s not a Grand Designs, but still significant for a house described by my brother-in-law as one that someone decided to build to make use of a pile of bricks left over from building the rest of the estate. Similar to making some kind of tart with leftover pastry. Well, I declare myself delighted with the final result – some compromises along the way,- external unwanted but necessary soil stack which can be disguised with some kind of trellis and climbing plant, or quite frankly, just becoming invisible to my eye within a short space of time, and a genuinely unexpected monstrosity of a chip shop flue pipe (log burner) sticking out through the roof, which cannot. The trees in my garden do hide it from my view to a certain extent, but not that of my neighbours’. I was relieved to find that my immediate ones did not see its appearance as a hostility-declaring incident , as they still cut my front lawn for me a few days after installation.
I also discovered just last week that there is proper access from a public path at the back of my garden, which I had been totally unaware of. Given that my modifications had knowlingly closed off access to the garden other than through the building, this was a fantastic completely unexpected bonus.
Annual leave week one covidly-morphed from a drive down to Lake Maggiore to building flat-pack furniture!!! – yes I know it was a difficult choice to make – but also doing more enjoyable home setup stuff such as being able to order sofas, rugs, pictures etc. I do feel I have been extremely fortunate to have the resources to be able to create my home just as I want it to be, and this creative work to be able to engage in, during social distancing. Just as well I now have all this new space, to take the incredible amount of stuff which came out of Monte2, and which I am not intending to try and stuff into Blue.
Since my last post, I will admit to having passed a significant birthday also, which should have been celebrated with a disco, only to go the covid way of all such plans. But moving swiftly on – what more can I say, other than it’s time for me to go to France now via the virtual immersion offered by the Tour de France on TV. Missing greatly my adopted country, and hoping for lots more opportunities for campervan travel across that water in the coming months and years. An Italy ski trip has been booked for February with a great gang – let’s see whether covid or yet another government brexit-induced episode gets in the way.
The above does reflect what small part of the planet in human/societal terms I come from, that I have enjoyed such a good life thus far. The challenge continues to keep anxieties about the bigger picture checked, and to maintain joy instead but I will record them here because they are part of my thought life also. I understand and wish it could be other that my good life has in part been enabled by the inequality in the world, the past and current exploitation of peoples and the environment. I do fear for the planet and all its life, plus that of younger generations because of climate change. I fear the rise of populism, and the decline of those institutions and political systems which although flawed, have on balance been forces for good, in the face of the huge challenges which are already here but undoubtedly going to increase. And all those things are interconnected. I hope and pray that leaders from across the spectrum, with a genuine wish for justice and the flourishing of all people, global as well as local strategic vision, courage, determination and competence, will come to the fore or be further empowered to work together from top down, bottom up, middle across. I hope and pray that I will know and have the courage, if and when it’s necessary, to stand for what’s right, rather than pretending I haven’t seen.
“ For evil to flourish it only requires good men to do nothing.” Simon Wiesenthal.
