We all do things without a second thought. Tasks we’ve done so many times before, we can do them in our sleep, given half the chance. We switch into autopilot. Switch our minds off. Switch them back on again once the task is completed. Having no real memory of actually doing it.
Each morning Mr S’s usual job is to do the breakfast wash-up. This morning is no different. A pleasant five minute chore, washing, drying and chatting to another camper. The loo is next door. So, I leave the bowl and contents on the floor outside. Go and do what’s necessary before getting back to Beastie, to prepare for our off. Today we move on.
Our planned journey is not too long. After an hour we stop and do a small LIDL shop. A further hour up the road, we’re making good time. 100K+ under our belts. Lunchtime beckons. We pull over. Mrs S opens the cupboard. “Brian, where’s my lunchtime plate?” “Isn’t it there?”And my coffee cup?“Where’ve you put it?” I don’t know, isn’t it in it’s normal place?” “And my egg saucepan? And the rest of the items you took to the wash-up this morning, including the bowl?” . . .
200K later and we’re back in the same spot, having gone back to retrieve the bowl and it’s full contents. How or why my brain hadn’t re-engaged a mystery. I usually put those items away in the cupboards too! Doh!! Just didn’t register. Early signs? . . . .
So, it’s after six by the time we roll on to our pitch at Camping Green Lawn, Skravena. A journey of 387K. Our longest in one day to date.
We’re warmly welcomed with the assistance of Google Translate, by Georgi whose large back garden we’ll be staying in. It’s a calm sunny evening. Perfect for a bit of al fresco.
In the near eastern distance, Mr S notices an unusual cloud formation has started a series of intentional manoeuvres. Like a gathering cross border army flexing its muscles before the big push. A silent intimidating language designed to strike fear. A single lightning flash gives the all clear. Attack. A yell of thunder follows suit as the potency of its built up energy gets released. A few rain drops the size of fried egg yolks are hurled forward, like grenades clearing the path forward. Now it’s full force gathers pace. Then suddenly explodes across Georgi’s back garden like a supersonic low flying jet. A cyclonic rush follows its path. Demonstrates its strength. Howling out “Gang way – we’re coming through!”
Fifteen minutes later, it’s past and like an army of soldier ants has moved on to torment its next victim.
The sun never stops shining, so al fresco it is. Ellen our green campervan neighbour is from Norway. But not for long. She, and her two rescue dogs are due to pick up the keys to her new home tomorrow. She’s an ex singer in a rock band. Now a kind of philosopher, who helps people deal with certain life issues. What it’s all for and about.
This morning we leave and wish her a good life.