Our First Big Adventure

This time next week we'll be rolling in to Santander for the ferry crossing back to Plymouth. It's been an epic adventure, and surprisingly we're still getting along. Most of the time. 41 years of marriage, but we've not spent more than 3 weeks together constantly in the past, and certainly not in a 14m² space! Hilda, our motorhome, has lived up to expectations. She's caused us a few moments, like her engine light has been on since the Algarve (apparently the particulates filter is furred up, Paul is on it...) and she's had an alarming crack in the windscreen for nearly as long. Stuff to sort on our return. But motorhome touring? Brilliant. We've explored Portugal and a bit of Spain thoroughly and seen so many great places. The nomadic lifestyle suits us, always moving on to somewhere new and potentially exciting.

Surprisingly,  I have missed home, the people there more than the place, pretty badly. My Dad has been in hospital following a fall for about a month now. He's been frail for ages, but of absolutely sound mind. I'm not sure what happens in hospital, but he becomes delusional. These delusions are very real to him; he could still remember some after his previous long stint and had trouble separating them from reality for months after. They largely centre on one of my sisters. In her mid sixties, she was being sold off as a bride to a "man so handsome he could have been a film star" and now seems to be imprisoned for bank robbery. Her real life is remarkably dull by comparison, involving a great deal of hospital visiting at the moment! I have wrestled with feelings of guilt, at being absent, and mourning the dad I left in his own home the day before we left. The one that loved to wind me up so that we'd have a lively debate (argument) and amuse with funny stories. I'm not sure that man will be there when I get home.

I've missed Lily too. Her physicality, the hugs, her chatter. The word Nanny. How much we take for granted when we have it.

And yoga? Well, intentions were good but the reality has not matched up. I've struggled to find somewhere flat to put the mat! No, that's not just an excuse... We've parked in quite a few carparks (unsuitable for obvious reasons), clifftops (different reasons), wet grassy fields. My mat is covered in mud (and a little chain oil as it lives in the garage with the bikes...) and grass stains. I set up yesterday next to the van and got barked at incessantly by the neighbouring folks' white poodles. I managed, but it ruined the vibe a little. Consequently my knees and hips are stiff. We've done some cycling and a lot of walking, many many steps and hilltop castles. On Saturday we've got a 6 hour trek through a gorge in the mountains here. I calculated I've missed over 36 hours of yoga, you'll hear me creaking on my return.

So it's with mixed emotions that we enter our final week away. Sorry its coming to an end, excited to be going home, already starting to think about the next time...

See you at yoga soon!