Today feels like the day we really started to get our shit together.  We’re getting used to life in the van, it feels like we’re prepared and we haven’t forgotten to switch something off, like the gas, or inadvertently broken anything.  Only two days ago I drove over our little Aldi footstep, it’s not broken but it’s mangled body and twisted leg is a source of shame and a reminder of the first few days where we just muddled through.

Twenty-five years have passed since Kerry and I took our first trip together to Morocco, the planning for that trip was basically zero.  No insurance, no backup plan, no cameras, no way of contacting home barring scattered internet cafés, essentially no money, no return ticket and pretty much no idea.  We loved it, that was freedom.  Of course, we got a lot of things wrong, it kind of ended in a calamity and it didn’t seem to be such a big deal when we had to scarper home from Africa with barely a penny. 

Fast forward a quarter of a century and it’s funny that I had so many nervous moments in the build up to this trip, I wouldn’t go as far as anxiety but some real flashes of trepidation. Then I reminded myself that hundreds of thousands of retirees do this every year and I should stop being such a massive fanny.

We still planned the shit out of this trip though, all contingencies were covered, multiple months of cholesterol and hypertension medication were ordered, insurance was bought and backup plans were put in place.  It didn’t save my favourite Aldi step but now we’re actually travelling, those worries are all forgotten.

We dropped out of Luxembourg today, turned off the sat nav and meandered through the Moselle Valley in Northern France, it was rather charming until an incident with a bus on a single-track road.  Turned all navigation systems on not long after and have parked up in the centre of Nancy after some good advice from the guy who told us about the free public transport in Luxembourg.  We vowed to take any suggestions onboard and if you have any please say.

Nancy is a gem, it couldn’t be more French, there’s something stunning around every corner, the fair was in town and we wanted to sit in every bar and grab something from every boulangerie.  We were too busy wandering around to do much of either but we did buy some Raclette Frites and a fancy chicken mustard pie. I used to get called a posh twat at work because I liked honey roasted ham and I wonder how Neil feels about my choice of food at the fair. 

It feels good to be getting back into the flow.