Wednesday 21 August 2013. Day one hundred
Having spoken with Lorraine by phone last night about mum and dad’s concerms around ageing, IHT, power of attorney and the potential impact of care fees, an unprecedented meeting has been arranged for midday today.
I drive in to mum and dad’s on the scooter. Whilst there I print off some information from their computer. Then we all head off to Truro in dad’s car to meet up with Lorrie who will be taking time off from work to attend.
It is a lovely day, sunshine and blue skies as we travel down the A30 that I had driven over just a few hours before when road testing the Saab. The run along the A30 does the Mondeo some good as when I drive it hard, the exhaust first emits clouds of black fume and this steadily decreases until she runs clean. THe car has surprisingly good pace and after I work out how to set the cruise control, we are motoring along at seventy five miles per hour.
We arrive in good time, get seated and order drinks. Much time is spent perusing the menu. Then Lorraine arrives and dinner once ordered is quicly served up. Dad and I each have haddock, chips and peas. Mum and Lorraine each choose a light bite meal of lasagne.
Once we had all consumed our food we got down to identifying the issues for mum amd dad and looking at what can be done. We shared a lot of detail which will help shape the actions that we take in the future. This is especially true in so far as it concerns things like ‘expression of wishes’ matters.
Our family meeting broke up and Lorrie headed back to work. Before she went I asked her about her plans re work and retirement and it seems that years back Lorrie had poor advice from H whic led her to cease her contributory pension scheme at that time. Whilst she has been paying in to the contributory scheme in more recent years, those lost years represent something that she will never be able to afford to buy back. Privately I think to myself that I it would be great if Lorrie could perhaps get a redundancy offer or even a reduction in her working week.
The drive back to St Austell saw us call in at Carr’s Audi where mum and dad were keen to look at A1’s and A3’s. People who buy an Audi today need deep pockets. Used cars start at a figure above ten thousand pounds and a new A3 cannot be bought for less than about eighteen thousand pounds! In my humble opinion buying new vehicles today is a fools game; convince me otherwise if you will.
The remainder of the return drive was very ordinary. Back at their bungalow at their request I set to getting their Lasting Powers fo Attorney set up using the online software that is available via the government website. This job proves to be time and paper consuing. Each of the documents to be completed is twenty pages long. There are four such documents to produce and print. After printing three and a half documents the printer ink expires. This affords me time to return to the van for supper.
Niki produced the Asda curry in a hurry meals for supper. My chicken dish was spicy hot. Niki’s Jamaican dish was also a spicy number. As for the flavour, I could taste coconut in Niki’s meal but my own was devoid of any particular flavour. The saving grace has to be the conveience of these dishes and also their very low price. Why else would thousands of people buy them every single day?
After supper I head back into town, first to Asda to buy a replacement ink cartridge and then to mum and dad’s. With the new cartridge installed I print out the final part of document four. We now have all the documents we think that we need and they are ready to sign. With time getting on I tell mum and dad that I need to return tomorrow to finish the paperwork and also to ensure the documents are signed in the correct order and that the date details are correct.
On my way back to the van I buy a couple of ice creams; Niki had earlier requiested an ice and it only seemed fair to get one as she had patiently dealt with her cold whilst waiting for me to get this paperwork done. played three rounds of solitaire with the deck of cards and lost each time. Niki has been getting her hands out every time. The difference? I turn three cards each time whereas Niki turns but one card each time.
IN the morning we would be packing up the van to leave. Sarah and Jacob will visit us on site. We will pay our bill and say our farewells. We will go to mum and dad’s to finish their power of attorney documents. Then we will head for England and a place for us to rest for the night. I manage just a few pages of “A Reluctant Boating Wife” before my eyes close and my kindle crashes onto my chest. Niki and I exchange kisses on the cheek. An attempt to reduce the risk of infection transfer so that I might avoid catching “the cold”. It feels as if I am asleep befoe my head properly settles into the pillow.
This has been our one hundredth day sleeping in the van on this trip. Where oh where does the time go? A look back through these notes will surely tell the tale dear reader.
Brigitte Travels – Quite A Bit Further – 100 to 109!
Thursday 22 August 2013. Day 101.
We have enjoyed staying at Doubletrees and being looked after by Dennis Retallick and his daughter Sue. The first packing up job sees me unload everything from the garage in order to load up the scooter. I dry the dewfall off of the scoot before running her up the aluminium ramp and into the garage. It is a tight fit and the front wheel of the scooter needs to balance on the sill of the far doorway before she is pulled back onto her main stand.
To prevent her moving around as we travel a tie down strap is secured across the front part of the scooter floor. At the rear of the scooter I wedge a block of wood under the rear tyre and then cinch down on a second tie down strap. This one, carefully wound around the rear rack tightens down the rear wheel onto my block and prevents the bike from side to side or forward and backward movement.
Now I have to slacken the allen keys that hold the handlebars on the bike that Tass and Simon gave me. With the handlebars at ninety degrees the bike fits into the space between the scooter and the back panel of the van. There isn’t much room to spare and it is hard to ensure the bike doesn’t move about too much as we are travelling. The system I devise works after a fashion but is a flawed solution. I shall need to improve on things. Later when driving the van I am conscious that the front end of the van seems unusually light, another load issue to resolve. Perhaps I need to drain the grey water tank and take a few other load balancing measures.
With Niki away doing the dishes I complete my chore and secure both locker doors. After a shower I meet up with Dennis and we share a chat, He is a self made man who started Highway Garage in St Blazey Gate, that business is now run by two of his sons. Dennis also has a place at Bodelva which one of his sons runs as a tyre business. There are houses rented out. Dennis will soon be celebrating his eightieth birthday where he loves to be, at home. Daughter Sue runs the site on a day to day basis. It is to Sue that I turn to settle our bill. We have had a fine time here relaxing with a great view out across St Austell bay. It is a shame that we won’t be here to see the Red Arrows tonight with the kids and grand children.
With the van stowed away we await the arrival of Sarah and Jacob. They fetch up and we spend time chatting in the van over a drink and a macaroon. Jacob enjoys most of his macaroon. Sarah wolfs hers down in a few bites. We get a very brief recap of her date with Justin, the car-salesman.
I phone mum about the possiblilty of Sarah and Jacob coming over and we agreed that they would not for fear of passing “the cold” on to mum and/or dad. Sarah needed some time alone in town to research and if possible buy a woman of the year prize for one of her group members. I suggested that we take Jacob in the camper and then meet up at gran and grandpas. Sarah set off. Jacob as pleased as punch sat up in his car seat in the front of the camper.
First off we went down to St Blazey Gate and topped up the van with fuel at Barrie’s filling station. Then we drove up to mum and dad’s at a leisurely pace.
When we arrived at mum and dad’s I could see that dad’s car was out. I went in to see mum and also to get started on sorting out the last of the paperwork that we thought that we would need. Mum was concerned about dad because he had spent the morning stressing about where we were. Even now, as I type this, I am unsure whether his distress was centred around a concern that we would be late getting away to our next destination, or whether having called Brian in readiness to have him available to witness and sign the documents, dad felt a sense of duty to get the documents done in good time.
I got on with the work I had to do including placing phone calls to the insurers of our scooter. By the time that dad returned from shopping, it was lunch time. Pasties were bought from the butcher’s shop and mum made Niki a salad (to eat outside on the lawn). Jacob, who had been sleeping in his buggy, follwing a walk around the block with Niki, awoke and Niki and I entertained him for a short while before Sarah reappeared.
Sarah and Jacob headed off home in the Saab. A longer sleep for Jacob. Work on preparing for Slimming World on Saturday for Sarah. With a work related trip to Exeter taking up her Friday, Sarah will have a very short few days off this week and limited quality time with the apple of her eye.
At around two I ask mum when Brian is likely to turn up and get the response that Brian is waiting on her call. I immediately request that she phone Brian who duly appears. The round of paper signing then starts. Errors are made and I head back to the computer to reprint pages that need to be replaced. Eventually all four documents are signed and dated by donors, certificate providers, attorneys and witnesses. Letters to Dennis, as the person they nominate to be told are also printed out.
The final stage of the exercise, we are using the online option, designed to save time and effort, is to print out yet another twelve page document for each of the LPA’s. This repeats almost all of what the first document says and contains but also adds in details regarding the payment of fees.
At just before five o’clock I declare that the work is complete. As an interesting aside I google what a Solicitor might be expected to charge for this work. £450 plus vat for one LPA, £750 plus vat, a discount for two!
We’re on the road with an unknown destination. Progress towards Exeter is quite swift and we agree that it would be good to see Mart. Niki starts texting away and discovers that Mart is on his last night shift. We agree that we will meet him at eight thirty sharp for breakfast at our van at Wyke Farm. We manage to squeak in at Wyke at eight thirty five and fetch up in a large field with only three other units there. We were supposed to go into the camping field but as it was well away from the facilities for which we were paying I thought “Sod That!”. We got the van level, had supper and an early night.
Friday 23 August 2013. Day 102.
We were up in good time and got cracking with getting the full English breakfast cooked. Mart announced his arrival with a text message to Niki who set off to find him.
Over breakfast we caught up on news. Mart is once again the owner of two boats. One is a hull that is in need of fitting out. The journey back from Wales where he bought her was something of a nightmare – the trailer broke on the motorway, necessitating a full recovery. The second boat is something of an unknown. Mart will collect her on Sunday next.
Sandy from Bexleyheath has hold of Mart’s attention. They see each other on a fortnightly basis and according to Mart Sandra, a teacher, shows interest in boats.
With breakfast over and news shared it is time for us all to move on. Mart will be heading home to bed. We are heading towards the M25 and Mildenhall.
By the time we hand back the electronic gate card at the site and drive the short distance back to the A303 it is heading up to eleven o’clock and traffic is becoming very heavy everywhere according to Lynn Bowles, the traffic reporter on BBC Radio 2. Our first challenge is to work out whether to risk joining the M3 because there is a reported hold up where the M3 joins the M25. We keep a close on the flow of traffic and decide that we will chance the route rather than seek an alternative. We get through with a minimal delay.
On the M25 the maximum speed warning signs are in operation at the traffic pinch points where major routes join London’s largest car park!
We jog along at around sixty and things run pretty clear all the way to our turn off at junction 21A. Junction 22 is the scene of much traffic chaos if the reports are to be believed. It makes me glad that we have the alternative route around Royston to use.
Arriving at Paul’s the weather has gone from the brilliant sunshine of Hampshire to a dull overcast day. Aussie Michael is here camping in the recently acquired caravan which is sat at the top of the garden. The garden has seen some recent work. The piles of debris that used to litter the hardstanding by the shed have largely disappeared. A battered brazier is evidence to the fires that have burned the rubbish. The garden has itself had a makeover. The once huge bushes that were engulfing what remained of the lawn have been tamed. Cut back and cleaned up the place looks positively enormous.
Michael bless him has a pot of bolognaise sauce cooking and we are invited to share this for supper. Great grub washed down with a bottle of Argentine Red wine.
Saturday 23 August 2013. Day 103.
The day we took the Mazda to Thetford to try to buy a printer from Curry’s and failed. Traffic queues. A mix of rain and overcast skies.
Supper we prepared salmon for us and Michael.
Sunday 25 August 2013. Day 104.
Michael sets off early in his taxi to BSE en route to Manchester and Edinburgh. The search for a repair to Paulie’s printer goes on. I watch the MotoGP from the Czech Republic and the F1 GP from Spa in Belgium. In the early afternoon we drive to Haverhill and get stuck in a two hour queue of traffic on the A14 about two miles outside of Mildenhall. Two tandem riding cyclists had been seriously injured when they collided with a vehicle perhaps as they attempted to cross this busy dual carriageway.
By the time we get back Paulie and Luke are there. We meet Luke for the first time, discuss news and wait for supper to cook. We end up watching a Disney character thing on C5.
Monday 26 August 2013. Day 105
Monday feels like a lost day to me. I know we had a chinese meal for supper. In the afternoon I took Niki and Luke to Newmarket shopping. Paul went off to collect the laptop for the presentation on Tuesday. I spent much of the evening opening the presentation and producing a printed copy for Paul.
Tuesday 27 August 2013. Day 106.
We set off from Mildenhall for Grove Park, Nursling near Romsey in Hampshire. John and Kate’s new abode. Lots of driving. Queues on the M25, queues on our choice of a diversion through Ricky and onwards.
Supper provided by Kate and then dix mille. Kate split her shin and bled rather well fortunately on the ceramic kitchen tiles and neither on the white carpet nor the pale cream rugs.
Wednesday 28 August 2013. Day 107.
At eight thirty we trooped off to the swimming pool. This involves walking along the ground floor corridor of Paget House where the viewing panels let into the walls give almost the only clue to the former use of the buildings here. Grove Place was a private school. As we walk along the corridor PIR detectors activate the lights just ahead of us. John gleefully points out a ceiling mounted black box with an led glowing red. “Watch that” he says, “It will soon change to green”. As the led changes to green the doors we are approaching swing open for us. John chuckles. Outside we are facing an expanse of lawns, trees and paths leading towards the original house. We follow a path towards some yew trees which encircle a circular pond complete with a fountain and bowl atop a sculpted cherub and dolphin base. Past the house we glimpse the pool and fitness complex. A modern building with huge glass windows and glue laminated beams it houses a fifteen by five metre pool of depth 1.2metres. There is also a jacuzzi. Across the corridor the fitness room contains all manner of treadmills and cardiovascular kit. As with all aspects of Grove the standard looks high.
The pool is being used by one other person. This lady is briefly introduced to us by John. As chair of the residents association she is according to John a former school teacher. I’m not sure if he knows this as a matter of fact. I muse about chairing committees and meetings and feel relaxed about no longer having any roles beyond son, husband, father, grandfather, brother, friend.
The water is very warm bordering on hot. The swimming feels good. My shoulders work as they should and feel almost repaired.
Trip into Romsey for a spot of lunch sat outside in the sunshine where we were much bothered by wasps. The cafe provided a bug bat which eventually arrived at our table. By gently wafting the bat into the path of the wasp with the button pressed the bat becomes a death trap for the wasp. Should it fly into the metal grid it gets a shock and incinerates the body part that contacts the grid. We set off to find Romsey Hardware store planning to buy five of these devices! That is a measure of how impressed we are. The hardware store is sold out.
Then on to Broadlands home of Lords Palmerston 1,2 and 3 and Louis Mountbatten and now his grand daughter Lady Penny Brabourne.
Back at the apartment people get their heads down for a power nap. Penny and I set off back into Romsey when Penny gets the news that the hardware store has received its resupplies. By the time we arrive there are only two bats left and we buy them both and place paid orders for a further two bats.
Our dinner in the restaurant is served at seven. When we arrive it is clear that others are finishing their meals and must therefore have arrived for an earlier start. Five thirty is the first time at which dinners can arrive for supper. Seven is the latest! Using the order that we had placed yesterday the chef and his small team produced a meal of a high standard. I dined having ordered roasted mussels in breadcrubs and garlic as my starter. The sirloin steak main course arrived with chpis, sliced, grilled mushrooms and peas. There is also an optional side dish of dijon mustard and or garlic butter. My dessert ended up being pineapple upside down pudding which came with custard. Wine again of a high standard is relatively inexpensive. John and Penny had white wine. Niki, Kate and I tucked into a bottle of red. Joy of joys, no money changes hands in the restaurant. A book is used to record purchases rather like the tuck shop might have been run in the private school here years before.
With two hundred units on site? we estimate that there are approaching one hundred and twenty people living here. To be eligible to buy an apartment one must be of a certain age and one must also be able to afford the monthly service charge. In John and Kate’s case, a two bedroom apartment costs five hundred and sixty pounds a month. For this they have the use of all onsite facilities and there is a twenty four seven emergency on-site response team, there is a visiting nurse service and there may be other services available that, in the short time we are here, we do not hear about.
Thursday 29 August 2013. Day 108.
At eight a tap on the door signalled “time to go swimming”. The contractors were already swarming all over the gardens, cutting lawns and trimming trees. In the laundry the two women at work there were cheerfully finishing off the ironing of yet another order. As we passed what I guess is the staff kitchen the smell of cooking bacon signalled someone’s breakfast being prepared.
After our swim we returned to the apartment to find Kate up and on the computer in their office/gloryhole. Penny, having repositioned the truckle bed into a spot where it did not get illuminated by the hallway lights whenever anyone used the loo in the night, remained fast asleep despite Kate and I both entering the lounge/diner/kitchen.
As Penny woke up breakfast could be got underway. Porridge and toast for me. Penny and Niki shared some scrambled eggs. John and Kate went light on breakfast as they were due to lunch with some other visiting friends at twelve thirty.
We packed up our kit, stowed it in the van and said our farewells. Driving out of the driveway we set our course for Havant. We needed to find an Asda to buy Leith’s beef burgers with chorizo and chilli! Having shopped in anticipation of our ferry crossing we drove up the south coast through towns that I knew only as places on the map.
I had it in my mind’s eye to visit Beachy Head for a cup of tea and to take in the view. We arrive here at around four thirty, pay to park and get the kettle on. An elderly Irish musician introduces himself through the driver’s window by asking “How many miles to the gallon do you get from a camper like this?”. We estimated that we get around twenty seven miles from every gallon of diesel that we burn. Our conversation turned to France and journeys that we have done in common and then places that Niki and I might wish to see. The grave of the Red Baron – Von Richthoffen – just outside Albert near Franchvilliers? and Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest at Birtschgarten.
Niki and I walked up to visit the lighthouse, now a guesthouse.
Then it was time to journey on and a wake up call – we haven’t bought a replacement gas cylinder for our empty! A mad search for fuel stations selling calor gas ensued and at the fourth attempt we found one selling Calor who had what we needed – at a price – twenty four pounds, fully twenty percent more than the gas we had bought at Doubletrees! And yes I bought it. The need for a full Calor gas cylinder outweighing the fully twenty percent extra charged here. If anything this episode has strengthened my resolve to change out the cyclinders at the first opportunity next year!
Was that it? Was that the last thing that we would need before we set off for France? With those thoughts coursing through my mind we headed onwards to Dover as the early evening twilight began to give way to darkness. We spotted a sign saying that a town that we were about to pass through was one of the “cinque ports”. As neither of us know what the phrase means we noted it down for further research as and when. Our sally around the coastal roads of the south coast of England came to an end as we approached Ashford. Now a key terminal on the high speed rail link between London and Paris, this part of the Kent countryside has been immensely altered by “le train”. Huge warehouses are clustered onto an estate. Houses have been built close by both the motorway and rail links. I could only guess at the jobs that those who have come to live here perform.
From here to the Channel tunnel terminus the motorway is alive with vehicles straining to get somewhere at speed. If not the tunnel, they speed onward to Folkestone or Dover. We plod merrily along knowing that we shall be in Dover with time to spare. Once we arrive in this bustling port town we spot a camper van parked up on the port car park. Checking the parking tariff I can see that we could park here for up to eight hours for £5-40. We head away in search of fish and chips and end up with a Chinese take out.
Back in the car park we tuck in to our Chicken and cashew nut, crispy chilli beef and special fried rice. This could have been fabulously good, it was not. Compared to the Chinese meals we have eaten on this trip this one was the least palatable. Too much sugary syrupy sauce and too much food colouring are identified as the main culprits.
The camper van that we had parked next to seemed to contain a man and three boys. The man busied himself cooking a one pot meal of mainly pasta. Meanwhile the boys were amusing themselves with the sort of balloons that comedians use to make trick shapes. Once supper was served and eaten they moved off presumably to board their appointed ferry.
This left us as the sole camper van on the vehicle park. Passing Police vehicles were disinterested in us as were the occupants of vans which parked up. Close by is the entrance to a marina and I guessed that the van drivers have vessels moored here.
With less than seven hours to our allotted departure time, we turned out the lights and drifted off to sleep. The almost constant noise of trucks arriving and departing the port proved just bearable. There were a few minutes it seemed between one vessel docking and disgorging trucks and the arrival of a second and third and so on vessel. The night hours here are busy, busy, busy. I had no idea the volume of trade that arrives and leaves this way from Dover.
Friday 30 August 2013. Day 109.
I woke about an hour before five. Eventually Niki woke up. It could have been my fidgetting about. Then the alarm sounded on the phone announcing that we should now wake up. Our breakfast routine would wait until we were on the dock a short mile or so down the road.
Happily we had not been clamped in the night. Our windscreen was ticket free. The van started and we pulled out. Entering the dock we followed the signs towards the P&O check in. The there was an almighty screeching and grinding noise from the offside front wheel. The spring steel brake component had failed completely and driving even a few yards made a noise that signalled “Stop now!” I inched up to the P&O desk and paid the balance of our crossing fare. Then we screeched and squealled our way to line 193 where we were to await our call to board.
I checked the wheel and there were bright metal shards all over the place, probably lead from the wheel balancing weights taped to the inner rim of the wheel. There was nothing to be done at this place lest I make matters even worse. I decided that if the worst came to the worst, I would pull onto a car park or refuge in Calais port and strip things down then and there.
The crossing took one and a half hours during which time I gave myself over to catching up on the last week or so. Falling behind with this journal, I am reminded, is a huge mistake. I find it so hard to recall the events of even that last few days. Nonetheless I write and fill in some of the gaps and fill the time. In between times Niki and I have a Costa coffee each whilst commenting on how Costa is attempting to cement itself as another word for coffee in the way that Hoover and vacuum cleaner were once interchangeable. We race through the iPaper crossword with only a couple of teasing clues to slow our progress.
We are amongst the last to go down to the vehicle deck. The tannoy system giving its multiple language alert warning to be on guard for moving vehicles is at best annoying. Re-united with the van I am re-united with our brake problem. We inch forwards off of the ferry and arrive onto French tarmac. The brakes are no longer emitting their deathly noise and so I decide to drive onwards. I take care to avoid using the brakes and manage to cover several tens of kilometres before, on a downhill section, I am forced to brake to avoid ploughing into the rear of a slow moving vehicle ahead of us. The brakes seem to work as they should.
We stop for fuel. I check the discs. Everything looks to be fine. We journey onwards. We have abandonned any plans to go to Croatia. I don’t need to add any more miles or kilometres to my tally on this trip and with the brakes the way they are what we need is a site with hard standing where I can whip the wheel off and more fully investigate the problem.
We resolve to head for Albert via Fricourt where we plan to find the cemetery that we have been told holds the remains of the Red Baron.
Our lunch stop in a layby overlooking the countryside of the Somme gives us a clear view of the fields and valleys below our elevated spot. Such a location would have given any army a commanding view and an excellent field of fire. I wonder if this place was the scene of any fighting in the 14-18 war?
The drive to Fricourt led us to the German cemetery set apart from the French and British cemeteries. Thinking about it now I suppose that the distance between them could be a guide to the distance between the opposing front lines at the time of one or more critical battles?
Outside of the German cemetery there is a multilingual noticeboard which sets out to explain that there are four cemeteries linked with the burial of Von Richthoffen. It seems that he was buried here in plot number 1177. However in 1920, after the war, his brother Freddie? had his remains dug up and reinterred in a grave in Germany (further research needed). Imagine our frustration at having driven here expressly to find the grave of the Red Baron only to find that he had been spirited away a long time ago! A quick internet search would likely have saved us the journey but somehow there is a kind of ironic amusement to be had in not finding his last burial place.
It is also about now that Sarah’s text advising me that she has sold the Saab to Veronika arrives. A wall of feelings hit me. I phone Sarah to try to understand why she has taken this action without reference to me. Her explanations are plausible from her point of view but neglect to consider my involvement. The disussion ended badly. It becomes a conversation I wish that I had never had.
Sarah texts me to say that she had spoken to Veronika and that if I want to have the car that that will be OK. Stuck here in France with a van with dodgy brakes and with no one who wants to go out of their way to help me to retain a car that I would love to own I respond that in the present circumstances keeping the car is impractical and that Sarah should proceed with the sale to Veronika. I remain gutted.
We pole up to the Camping Municipal in Albert. I had confused it with the site in Peronne. We occupy pitch seven, close to the office and also close to the sanitaires. We get a wifi connection from the van and I am able to scan and email to Sarah all of the car documents that I hold. It seems cathartic but in reality it is not.
Supper is taken with a couple of cans of cold Guinness.