Date: Saturday 9th Jan 2021
Location: Welsh Border
Specifically: Shropshire
Mood: Meh
*DEALS WITH ADULT THEMES AND CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT SOME
PEOPLE MAY FIND OFFENSIVE*.
You would think that after taking early retirement and spending the best part of two years on the road, any sense of worrying about a daily routine would have long since disappeared. That by now I would be very firmly in what I call ‘holiday mode’, the feeling you experience for a couple of weeks a year when you don’t care what day or time it is because you can do what you like, when you like, and with whoever you like. But it seems this is more difficult than I realised, in fact I’m starting to think it’s almost impossible.
For someone like me who had always hated being anywhere on time I’ve often wondered how I managed fifteen years of it (or forty f you count all of it since I left school). But I suppose if you love something enough you can cope with the downside. Nothing is perfect after all.
But it’s strange that, even after all this time, I still do everything according to the timings I’ve been brought up with or gotten used to in the workplace. Mum prepared dinner for one-o-clock on the dot. When I left home I had dinner at one-o-clock - although now, in a radical leap into the abyss of time I have now changed this to 12:30! (Wow! Or a thousand gasps as they used to say in my American comic books). Mum did ‘tea’ at 5:00 p:m. Soon as I got the chance I (reckless fool!) did ‘tea’ at 5:30 pm (then felt so uncomfortable I changed it back to five pm. Work began at 7:30 am. I still aim to start work at 7:30 am (notice the clever use of the word ‘aim’ where I’m trying to give the impression I start the day early but don't actually get doing until dinner time) although if it helps to give you a more positive of impression of me, when I do start the day later than intended I feel guilty about it! Well whoop-te-tah, someone give that man a retirement bonus and a good quality timepiece!
All this isn’t a problem up to a point, having a routine keeps you organised, focused and gives your life a purpose. But where it does cause difficulty is on days like today. I’m out enjoying the countryside walking around Ellesmere, viewing the remains of ancient buildings, snapping photographs. All very enjoyable and healthy stuff. Except that I’m always conscious of time. I keep clock watching (or mobile watching no one seems to have a watch these days) and unless I’m actually out with someone I find it next to impossible to stay out when ‘lunchtime’ is approaching I always have to get back for 1:00 p.m which means returning to where I’m based not just back to Hymie. I suppose all I can do is force myself to stay out, get myself used to an alternative routine but imagine being a dirty stop out just because you’re not back for afternoon feeding time!
OTHER NIGGLY KEEPING TRACK STUFF!
On the subject of other niggly things linked to time, numbers, data and general 21st century rat race capoocha I am currently getting very annoyed with gauges, meters and words that end in ‘ometer’. I’ll start with the obvious.
ThermOMETER
I have nothing against Eskimo’s yeah? How they choose to live is up to them. If they want to live in igloos thats all fine and practical. They utilise snow for building, make warm clothing from animal skins and entertain themselves on play-stations bought from Walmart. Sometimes obtaining food can be a problem particularly in the frozen wastelands of Canada, the Arctic Circle and Yorkshire where locals fear they will die from covid before the pubs reopen. Thankfully most Eskimos are able to survive by catching fish, storing dried food and nipping to the shops for takeout and family buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Sorry - getting a bit carried away with Eskimos, igloos and snow. I’ll get to the point of all this in a mo just bare with...
One final thing before I return to my thermometer rantette (love that word, it sounds like a 50s rock n roll band!) Both areas that I’ve mentioned i.e The Arctic Circle and Antarctica are famous for having big poles bang in their centres. Over the years a variety of people have put together expeditions costing many thousands of pounds in order to travel to the poles. Once in this vast desert they trudge through densely packed snow and ice, their belongings pulled along on a sledge led by a team of corgis (low on cash at this point so it was either that or a pair of wellingtons and a rucksack). As if this wasn’t frighting enough, they then have to negotiate glaciers, avoid deep crevices, dangerously steep ravines, biting winds, frostbite, wild animals, confusion and disorientation. When they finally arrive at the pole they take a few selfies, stick a little flag in the ground saying ‘we were here’ then turn around and go home again. I’m sure someone will explain the ‘why?' of this activity but for me I cannot see the point of going through one of the most inhospitable places in the world just to say "I was ere". If it’s inhospitable you want just visit Skelmersdale wearing a suit.
In fact during a recent visit to Cathartica (or whatever those icy windswept places are called which are home to penguins, polar bears and a Beatle’s song about being a walrus) I notice they also have a rent an igloo scheme for people who are adventurous enough to try something different but too stupid to go somewhere warm. For next to nothing they get to spend two weeks in an igloo living the life of a real Eskimo, enjoying activities like bashing holes in the ice with tiny pic axes to catch dinner, hunting for Arctic Fox and wacking baby seals over the head. For anyone who fails to pay rent on their igloo the landlord simply cranks up the heating and melts the accommodation while the occupants are still in it.
Right!!! Now back to my moho!! So as I was saying Hymie was really cold. He’s put up with some foul weather since we left Grasby Court and that bloody obnoxious twat of a neighbour. But the present weather had been a bit too much for him. Woke up this morning and nipped outside only to find this! Poor Hymie!! He’ll need a good scrape down before we can travel off into the sunset.
FUEL GAUGE
Right!! If I’m not sick and tired and in bed up to the back teeth! What is it with fuel gauges!? I mean, how difficult can it be to design something that monitors petrol usage accurately!? Y’see what I’ve found is this. Drive somewhere on a full tank. Use half a tank on your journey and the petrol gauge indicator is at the half way mark. So far so good. But start up for your next journey and the indicator shows less than halfway, as if you drove about 25 miles in your sleep. Maybe I’ve just been buying too many piece of shit vehicles.
SpeedOMETER
Still cream crackered, in case you were wondering, and still waiting for a part - something linked to the gear box as I recall. Couldn’t be just a fuse could it? Oh no only the full bloody monty will do for Hymie (I’m whispering in case he hears me and takes a fence).
How exciting! Not one but three lots of BIG news for you today what I am sure you will be faskilanated by innit!
Lets kick of with accommodation
You remember how I said at the outset of my adventurings that I would never in a million years buy a motorhome (much less live in one!) and go travelling around the country and how after a conversation with a friend I changed my mind, bought Hymie and ran off into the sunset. Well a similar thing has happened again (Doesn’t help that I’m impulsive either). Sean and Ali have been kind in allowing me to stay - a blessing during the lockdown. But now it’s time to move on. Except, of course, that we are now in lockdown again (doesn’t feel like it’s ever ended since it began anyway). A friend just happened to mention that she’d seen some apartments available on her way to work one morning. My first reaction? Not interested, I bought Hymie to travel, not to stay in one place. But as she’d sent a couple of pictures I felt it couldn't hurt to take a look. I was impressed, they looked classy and affordable. I had assumed that if I ever did want somewhere permanent again it would be a house. I didn’t have enough to buy a house, not even a real one, and I certainly do not want another mortgage.
Of course what my friend wasn’t aware of, is that I've recently been experiencing a nagging little voice whispering “What if..." as in 'what if' anything happened to Hymie that required long term repair? Even during his recent service and MOT I had to stay in private accommodation, or 'what if’ I got sick? or 'what if' I get too frail for this kind of lifestyle? I did hear about a guy recently in his 80’s who was coping well and I’m sure there must be others. But my problem is that I suffer from a number of debilitating conditions, vexatious posterius, acute indolencia and extended periods of profound asininity. Long story short. An apartment might just be the answer (even though I wasn’t aware I actually had a question (!)
Want a quick look see?
Here’s my current favourite. This one is in Ellesmere.
Long way to go yet though. Will need to have a good look round but I’ll keep you (blog) posted!
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