Having spent time sitting contemplating the sheer magnificence of mountains, I was left wondering what it is about them that calls mankind towards them in worship. Why do we feel the need to draw and paint them, to write poetry and songs proclaiming their magnificence. Why do we struggle up the ascents simply to slide … Continue reading “MOUNTAINS AND MEDITATIONS”
April 2018 – Shrublands Farm, North Repps Hidden in the comfort of our metal gypsy wagon, I watch a pair of pheasants pick their way around the sympathetically camouflaged green painted toilets towards me. Stunningly marked, such creatures are better enjoyed thus – still wearing their feathers. It saddens me that this brace, these comrades … Continue reading “Beauty and our inner beast”
We had often talked of wild camping. To motorhome owners this is a foray into the savage, untamed wilds of lay-bys or car parks – without electric hookup! It is ridiculed by the macho backpackers who venture into the real wilderness….but hey ho, we can feel as though we are being brave in our metal … Continue reading “Wild Camping”
As “Conscious Folk” we have considered our impact on this planet. This is not a “is global warming man-made” discussion….where I sit right now mammoths roamed in a tropical jungle and an ice age formed the landscape. This is just a tiny piece about how after all that, people are messing it up. … Continue reading “Our tiny blue planet…”
NOW is no good to a story-teller or a poet…. How do you grow an imagined rhyme when all there is is present time? NOW is not where stories are born – NOW must be torn from the mind To find that blurry-eyed state where the hero’s fate is written – For heroes are not … Continue reading “THE POWER OF NOW….or later”
Winnats Pass Derbyshire…the nice lady from Rowter Farm had said something about Winnats Pass and Sparrowfoot…. “Yeah yeah” we said, too excited about our break in Derbyshire to actually listen. It was something about there being one way to the camp site that we were not to attempt in a motorhome. Especially an old motorhome. … Continue reading “Sliding tyres, roads…and snakes.”
Choosing a camper-van/motorhome is like choosing a family dog…so much depends on your lifestyle or personality. And definitely on the depth of your purse. Maybe you want a big butch beast of a van- one that scares the hell out of minis on the motorway. One that you can’t park within city walls due to … Continue reading “Choosing a van…”
This was written in an ECO campsite. What makes a camp site into an ECO campsite ? Maybe not allowing dirty diesels in would be a start….we half expected to be met by placard waving save-the-earth types as we chugged our way along the backwoods, dirt track lane. No, we were met by a delightful … Continue reading “SITES”
En route to Wales, we invented a new game: we like to wave at other vans/motorhomes – we like it better when they return our cheery salutation. So, we began counting. It went poorly to begin with. Then we decided that if a fellow “house-on-back” traveller waves first, it counts as two points. We were … Continue reading “Waves and flashes…in Wales”
It started as an innocent word, thrown into a sentence: the first drop of rain that started the flood, the tiny ripple which led to a tsunami….one innocent word thrown into a sentence. And with that final straw, the camel’s back snapped asunder and the world ended. Just saying!!!!! via Faux pas — trudiwordpress
Dear Traveller, one of the worst things that can happen whilst being away in the van is finding that also sharing the journey, sitting grinning inanely out of the windscreen, is a diarrhoea and vomiting bug. Murderous! Especially if there are no toilets nearby!! See, we have an agreement....no solids in the van toilet. Not that diarrhoea is solid but....you get the idea. How many holes can one dig without leaving the area looking like a mole army battleground? A toxic mole army battleground at that. The dreaded D/V struck us both whilst we were enjoying a peaceful weekend in the Suffolk countryside in an orderly and pristine campsite. Just making it outside at dark-o-clock to throw up right outside the van door is not conducive to a romantic break. Nor does it endear one to one's fellow field-sharers. Then there is the hurried trot (sorry!) to the camp toilet block ....again and again. Probably leaving a well-worn trail in the camp site's beautifully manicured grass. Never mind what we left in the impossibly clean facilities. Well....we came home. Having invented a new high number on the Bristol Stool chart, we did not want to share our new found infamy.
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