Dilemmas come in all shapes and sizes. Decision making put upon us. Sometimes brought about by our own volition. Sometimes by uncontrollable outside forces.
Daily life is full of them and not always a choice between the lesser of two evils. Pleased as punch when the right one is made. Sad and frustrated when not.
When two people are involved, especially if differing opinions of a possible outcome are forthcoming, then the possibility of right and wrong can come into play. Pointing fingers; laying of blame. “Didn’t I warn you that would happen!”
Fortunately for Mr & Mrs S, joint decisions don’t come with that sort of baggage. Acceptance of whatever the outcome being key. No need to worry unnecessarily. Why build a mountain where only a molehill exists?
Even before we set off, a number of decisions needed to be made. The most important one (for Mr S) was whether, or not, to take Scoot. At 100kg, would he hinder our very steep (so we’ve heard) uphill climbs in Norway? [a real fear born from Beastie’s backwards slide going up Mount Nemrut in Türkiye.] Would the weather ever be suitable? [we’re really fair-weather bikers] With limited availability of wine outlets in Norway and Sweden, plus the extortionate cost of alcohol in general, the decision was made more easy; or should that read more palatable? The thought of stashing away up to 100kg of wine for the duration a no brainer!!!
For Mrs S, it was all about what clothes to take. What footwear to take. Just how many seasons are we likely to encounter? According to what’s secreted inside her on-board cubby-holes, it seems all four.
Since Brexit, it’s been against EU regulations to take any dairy, or meat products across from the UK. We’ve ignored that ‘precept’. Justified our decision on the basis that everything we bring is for our own consumption and in any event, never leaves Beastie’s inners, until inside ours. However, to minimise the possibility of confiscation, or even worse, a whacking great fine, before entering Le Shuttle, we’ve previously emptied the fully loaded fridge and freezer of said items and concealed them until over the border. A real bind. But a necessary one. Today, after never previously being searched, we agree to take a gamble. Come over all blasé. A question of Que Sera, Sera.
We get off scot-free . . .
And now, after a very tiring day’s travel we’re happily pitched up at Recreatiepark Klaverweide, Netherlands. 308k up the road from Calais.