June 22, 2011
TIME, as Steve
Miller so presciently sang, keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ into the
future. And the timescale for embarking on our Great Adventure seems to slip
further into the future every week.
We remain
determined to make it happen – it’s just a question of when. Having agreed that
we can’t really leave our families to their own devices over Christmas, it
hardly seems worth going abroad before then and having to drive back with all
the argy-bargy of getting the dog inspected by a vet 24 hours before our return
sailing etc etc.
Particularly when
my husband has decided to set up a consultancy business so he can do some work
online while we’re away. Particularly when we’re renovating a smaller house, which we can let
out and keep as an insurance policy against the need to downsize when we get
back. Particularly when we’re both still working. And even more particularly
when we may have to help my father-in-law put his belongings in store so he can
let his house to pay his care home fees. In short, we just ain’t ready.
In the meantime
we’ve inspected dozens more camper vans – driving all the way to Newbury for a monster
motor home show this time. Even more mind-boggling than the trip to a
dealership, all it did was make us realise that the models we’d had in mind
shared one insurmountable drawback – they were too long to fit on our drive and
we would have to scale down our ambitions.
An afternoon
spent saying excuse-me and squeezing past other couples in and out of so many
little doorways to inspect every conceivable internal layout was exceptionally
hard on the feet, and quickly palled, I have to say.
And the dog –
bored stiff on his lead all the time, poor creature - didn’t help when he
decided to nip the nose of a passing baby border collie. Cue glares from doting
owner, and hasty retreat, whilst hissing furiously at husband ‘I told you not to let him near any
puppies!’
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