Have you been here before? I don't mean here visiting this blog. I mean here in this world. I sometimes get a strong feeling I have lived before. A feeling that I lived a full life. Maybe more than once too.
The last time was a good comfortable life in which I wanted for nothing, was quite wealthy and was a good husband. How I earned my livelihood isn't clear to me but may have involved being creative. I feel I lived to a good age and died in my sleep.
What a weird subject to be writing about. But the feeling is strong within me just now and it is a good feeling. Comforting even.
I don't wish to sound morbid but the thought of dying does not bother me. I think it is because I was here before and believe I shall be again. It will be me, but not me. Someone better, kinder, wiser.
Or is it just my mind playing tricks?
John.
Sunday 25 February 2018
Is Hub Finally Unplugged And On his Travels?
Have I done it? Have I changed the name of this blog? Did you have any trouble finding this? Was it really that simple to change my blogs name? If so I will just carry on with things as they are. My purpose in the name change is simply to more accurately describe what is happening with me these days.
Would you be kind enough to let me know in the comments section if things are still the same? I would appreciate that so much. Thank you.
Would you be kind enough to let me know in the comments section if things are still the same? I would appreciate that so much. Thank you.
Friday 23 February 2018
One Van And His Dog.
Here is the link to my new blog. I am still working out how to use it. I will however still be posting stuff on here it is just that I think the travelling about also deserves a space of its own.
My mind as you may be aware jumps about like a kangaroo on a barbecue. Barbeque? Hence another blog. My mind has the staying power of a lost sock in a tumble dryer.
Anyway, please take a look if you care to. Or not. Let me know what you think. Or not if you don't want to.
I shall now put up the link. I bet it doesn't work.
https://bain646.wixsite.com/one-van-and-his-dog/blog/
Crikey!
My mind as you may be aware jumps about like a kangaroo on a barbecue. Barbeque? Hence another blog. My mind has the staying power of a lost sock in a tumble dryer.
Anyway, please take a look if you care to. Or not. Let me know what you think. Or not if you don't want to.
I shall now put up the link. I bet it doesn't work.
https://bain646.wixsite.com/one-van-and-his-dog/blog/
Crikey!
Wednesday 21 February 2018
Boot, Socks, Kettle, Underpants And Two Towels.
JB’s Vauxhall Astra update. Number 33.
Oh boy am I excited! My arctic sleeping bag arrives tomorrow. It is ex-army. It was last slept in by a soldier. Possibly a big hairy Marine commando with a huge weapon? Marine commando's use deodorants these days though. So, it should be fine. I just hope he kept his toe nails clipped and had regular access to a bath?
Maybe it belonged to a lady soldier? Gosh! Now I really am excited. Maybe she slept naked except for a touch of Chanel Number 9?
As advised by some people I bought two towels today. See, I do take your comments on board. Micro towels they call them. Dries four times faster than a normal towel. I don’t know why they are called micro towels? I bought a big one for myself and a giant one for Mia the German Shepherd. Bloody dog costs me a fortune! I am thinking of taking her back and exchanging for a Jack Russell.
I also bought some new walking boots. Partly paid with a gift voucher my son Cedric gave me for Christmas. Last Christmas that is, not the one in about ten months’ time. Cedric isn’t his real name by the way. His real name is George, but I can’t get in touch with him to ask permission to use it. He told me, "they have some nice boots in there Dad but the woman behind the counter is a bit miserable". When I went into the shop I knew immediately who he meant because she did look miserable. When I got talking to her though she was a nice lady. Very friendly and polite. Just a shame about her face, but nobody’s perfect!
I went into Robert Dyas and asked a tall thin bloke with glasses for a travel kettle. He took me for a long walk right to the back of the shop (I wished I had put my new walking boots on) and showed me a plastic electric one. I told him I wanted one for a camping stove. He got a bit huffy and said I should have asked for a camping kettle. I squared up to him and asked if he wanted to fight me about it, but he just looked at me as though I was mad, so I left without buying anything. Serves him right! Robert Dyas will probably go bankrupt now. I already have a kettle anyway. I wonder if it was Robert Dyas I spoke to? Tall chap? Thin? Glasses?
I also went into a pound shop and bought six pairs of top of the range socks, three pairs of rather fetching underpants and a face cloth. Spent £9.98p. So, it can’t be a genuine pound shop can it? Not that I’m complaining. They way I look at it is I saved myself two pence.
At the rate I’m going I won’t have any excuses not to get travelling soon.
Thanks for listening.
Monday 19 February 2018
Making A Mesh Of Things.
I went to see the bloke in the next village who makes dog cages. Not that I wanted a dog cage as such. What I wanted was a mesh gate for the back of the van. My idea was to have the tailgate open at night in fine weather, so me and Mia the German Shepherd could stay cool while sleeping but remain safe inside. If Mia saw a rabbit outside she would probably be out of the van chasing it in a flash. I would probably be the same if a good-looking bird passed by. The mesh gate would give us both time to consider our actions. Thereby preventing Mia the GS from having an accident and me avoiding a night in the police cells!
“How much would it cost to make and fit a mesh gate to the back of my van?” I asked the dog cage maker.
“They are £255,” he said, then, probably noting the look of shock on my handsome, remarkably youthful face added, “My prices are much better value than…” and he reeled off the names of several other dog cage makers worldwide.
“I can’t afford it now,” I told him, and then lying through my teeth said I would come back when I had saved up some money.
“Yes, money is a problem for everyone these days,” he said, and began to tell me the story of how his wife had taken nearly everything he had worked for all his life. “She came home one day and said she didn’t love me anymore,” he told me, “She told me I had to move out. I said there is no way I am moving out. She said I had to sleep in the spare room. I said I’m not sleeping in the spare room. I told her we have got a big bed and we could easily still sleep in it together if we kept to our own sides. In the end she moved out. Left me with the kids. I have brought them up on my own. It hasn’t been easy.” He looked at me through sad eyes and paused to catch his breath.
I took the opportunity to commiserate with him. “Women,” I said, they can be a bleedin’ nightmare, can’t they?”
He didn’t like me saying that at all. “She was a good woman,” he bristled indignantly, “She had a hell of a lot to put up with. I kept being made redundant from jobs. What woman is going to put up with that?”
“Anyway,” I said, “I hope things are going all right for you now?” At this I got into my van and started the engine.
He leaned through the window, “how much was you expecting to pay for the gate?”
To be honest I was thinking it would cost about fifty quid, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I said, “Oh, about £150.”
“Wait there a minute,” he said, and went into his workshop. He reappeared with a piece of mesh. “Here, you can have this. I am sure you can make something out of it?”
“That’s very kind of you,” I said, “how much do you want for it?”
“You can have it,” he said, adding, “just let me measure the back of the van. He took some quick measurements and went into the workshop again. I saw the spark and heard the crackle of a MIG welder. He came out with a metal frame. “Careful with this,” he said, “it’s hot.” He then went into the workshop again and came out with two pieces of metal. “You can make some brackets out of this,”
“You must let me give you something,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
I offered him a £20 note and he reluctantly accepted it. I got into my van and started the engine.
“Wait,” he said, “I have had an idea.” He went into his workshop and reappeared a few minutes later with a short piece of metal. “Here you are,” he said, “with this you can have your tailgate open but locked at the same time.” He demonstrated how it worked. “Nice meeting you,” he said, “but now I must get on and do some work. See you later.”
I came home and cut the mesh to fit the frame he had made and joined all the bits together with cable ties. I bent the bits of metal and made two brackets that fitted into some conveniently situated holes in the bodywork. ‘Voila!’ I now have a mesh safety gate. From £255 to twenty quid. Amazing!
Voila? Yes, I parley French. Bonnet le douche!
“How much would it cost to make and fit a mesh gate to the back of my van?” I asked the dog cage maker.
“They are £255,” he said, then, probably noting the look of shock on my handsome, remarkably youthful face added, “My prices are much better value than…” and he reeled off the names of several other dog cage makers worldwide.
“I can’t afford it now,” I told him, and then lying through my teeth said I would come back when I had saved up some money.
“Yes, money is a problem for everyone these days,” he said, and began to tell me the story of how his wife had taken nearly everything he had worked for all his life. “She came home one day and said she didn’t love me anymore,” he told me, “She told me I had to move out. I said there is no way I am moving out. She said I had to sleep in the spare room. I said I’m not sleeping in the spare room. I told her we have got a big bed and we could easily still sleep in it together if we kept to our own sides. In the end she moved out. Left me with the kids. I have brought them up on my own. It hasn’t been easy.” He looked at me through sad eyes and paused to catch his breath.
I took the opportunity to commiserate with him. “Women,” I said, they can be a bleedin’ nightmare, can’t they?”
He didn’t like me saying that at all. “She was a good woman,” he bristled indignantly, “She had a hell of a lot to put up with. I kept being made redundant from jobs. What woman is going to put up with that?”
“Anyway,” I said, “I hope things are going all right for you now?” At this I got into my van and started the engine.
He leaned through the window, “how much was you expecting to pay for the gate?”
To be honest I was thinking it would cost about fifty quid, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I said, “Oh, about £150.”
“Wait there a minute,” he said, and went into his workshop. He reappeared with a piece of mesh. “Here, you can have this. I am sure you can make something out of it?”
“That’s very kind of you,” I said, “how much do you want for it?”
“You can have it,” he said, adding, “just let me measure the back of the van. He took some quick measurements and went into the workshop again. I saw the spark and heard the crackle of a MIG welder. He came out with a metal frame. “Careful with this,” he said, “it’s hot.” He then went into the workshop again and came out with two pieces of metal. “You can make some brackets out of this,”
“You must let me give you something,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
I offered him a £20 note and he reluctantly accepted it. I got into my van and started the engine.
“Wait,” he said, “I have had an idea.” He went into his workshop and reappeared a few minutes later with a short piece of metal. “Here you are,” he said, “with this you can have your tailgate open but locked at the same time.” He demonstrated how it worked. “Nice meeting you,” he said, “but now I must get on and do some work. See you later.”
I came home and cut the mesh to fit the frame he had made and joined all the bits together with cable ties. I bent the bits of metal and made two brackets that fitted into some conveniently situated holes in the bodywork. ‘Voila!’ I now have a mesh safety gate. From £255 to twenty quid. Amazing!
Voila? Yes, I parley French. Bonnet le douche!
Wednesday 14 February 2018
Swapping The Dog For A Budgie.
JB’s Vauxhall Astra update. Must be about number 30? Let’s call it 30a for clarity. (that’s a good word isn’t it?)
It’s done. The Astra. It’s ready. It’s a camper. Got the electrics sorted. Got me awning ready. I made some privacy screens too. I made them out of paper. Bloody stupid idea that. They are for the inside though. I'm not that daft! If the weather would improve I could be off on my travels tomorrow. I could…’cept having doubts now.
It’s small isn’t it, the Astra? Big enough for little ol’ me that’s not a problem. But Mia? The German Shepherd? She is bloody big! And it is always raining these days…and Mia has got this thick fur coat and when she gets wet… and the size of her paws! When her paws get wet they act like giant sponges and suck up puddles… and she comes indoors and shakes herself and it’s like a typhoon has hit!
Yeah, so doubts assail me all the time now. Assail? I don’t know where these words come from? I didn’t have much of an education. Good word though assail. I wonder what it means?
So, my plan is this: (that is a colon. A bit pretentious. I mean, who uses colons these days especially in the wrong place?) Get rid of Mia the German Shepherd. Yeah? No, bear with me, it’s not as heartless as it sounds. Get rid of Mia but provide a home for something smaller. A little rabbit perhaps? Or even better… a budgie? It could be a straight swap. It will save such a lot of hassle and wet towels. As you all know from bitter experience wet towels are a major cause of condensation in campervans. It’s a win win for the small creature and still gives me a bit of company.
I am sold on the idea already about swapping the dog for a budgie. There are other things in its favour too. With a budgie (not sure whether to get a boy budgie or a girl budgie but I can think about that later) its food takes up very little space and taking it for a walk would be a doddle. I can just tie a piece of string around one of its legs. Sorted.
Of course, none of this would be necessary if it would stop raining but it doesn’t look like it is going to any time soon. Do you think I would need to keep the budgie in a cage or should I let it fly free in the van? Mind you if it was flying about it would probably shit everywhere? I shall cage it. What grit would you use in the bottom of the cage? Have you got a budgie? What do budgies eat? Do they drink water or milk?
Thinking about it, budgies are a lot of hassle too. Maybe I should just stay at home with Mia the German Shepherd?
This rain is really getting to me.
 |
| No Mia that is my bed. Your bed is in the front. |
 |
| I made some screens out of paper. Not a success. |
Monday 5 February 2018
A Life (Not) Well Lived.
Do you ever find yourself in a kind of mental turmoil? That's me at the moment. I can't seem to concentrate on one thing at a time. My thought processes jumping around all over the place. Never stopping to think anything through before the next thought interrupts. It is making me unhappy. Not that anyone would know there was anything wrong because I still maintain my (normal) "hail fellow well met" persona.
I suspect it is the legal process regarding my childhood that I am involved in that is causing this problem. I have been allocated a lawyer by the survivors association and my case is being prepared.
I wish that it would all just go away. No I don't.
I think, hey, I survived whats the problem?
I think, no, I didn't survive.
I think, if I had never been in that place I would have been a different person than the young man who went off the rails.
I think, if I had never been sent to that particular foster home?
I think, I would never have had a criminal record.
I think I would have been able to maintain a loving relationship.
I think lots of what ifs?
But then, maybe I am just who I am supposed to be and none of it really hurt me at all? It just is what it is. I mean, when you think about what some kids have been through. Are still going through today. When you think about war and famine in the world. I mean, what is my problem?
I lived, live a life of ups and downs but don't we all?
Why should I be compensated for it? I know why. No I don't.
Yes, lots of turmoil in my head. What's it all about?
I know.
I don't know.
I want to write more about this. No, I don't.
My mind is like my habitat, cluttered. Needs a good tidy. Tomorrow. I will do it tomorrow. Or not?
Tricia, just sent me a text. There is lots of hot water. Would I like a bath? Haha. How apt. But yes, I think I would. Hot water? Some of you know what a luxury that is for me, considering my alternative lifestyle.
Good night.
I suspect it is the legal process regarding my childhood that I am involved in that is causing this problem. I have been allocated a lawyer by the survivors association and my case is being prepared.
I wish that it would all just go away. No I don't.
I think, hey, I survived whats the problem?
I think, no, I didn't survive.
I think, if I had never been in that place I would have been a different person than the young man who went off the rails.
I think, if I had never been sent to that particular foster home?
I think, I would never have had a criminal record.
I think I would have been able to maintain a loving relationship.
I think lots of what ifs?
But then, maybe I am just who I am supposed to be and none of it really hurt me at all? It just is what it is. I mean, when you think about what some kids have been through. Are still going through today. When you think about war and famine in the world. I mean, what is my problem?
I lived, live a life of ups and downs but don't we all?
Why should I be compensated for it? I know why. No I don't.
Yes, lots of turmoil in my head. What's it all about?
I know.
I don't know.
I want to write more about this. No, I don't.
My mind is like my habitat, cluttered. Needs a good tidy. Tomorrow. I will do it tomorrow. Or not?
Tricia, just sent me a text. There is lots of hot water. Would I like a bath? Haha. How apt. But yes, I think I would. Hot water? Some of you know what a luxury that is for me, considering my alternative lifestyle.
Good night.
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