Adjusting to Freedom

I am very fortunate to have a friend willing to provide accommodation for several months. That the accommodation is so pleasant is an added bonus. Today I have been adjusting to my new reality. I have cleared the van of materials and packing so that it is now ready to continue being worked on. Sheets of ply and strips of wood areĀ  neatly stacked in the garage, my tools are accessible, once again.

This afternoon I wandered up the hill to visit the friendly neighbourhood store, Tesco. It is a just over half a mile away and that makes a pleasant walk on a sunny afternoon. I was struck by the surprising liberty of the moment. The day is, and has been, mine to fill as I like. The evening similarly is mine. My hosts have gone up to spend these two days on their yacht on Windermere after a troubled day yesterday. They had two border collies, both about twelve years old. Lady has been ailing since I arrived, although not, I hasten to add, because I arrived. Last night she died. She was buried in the garden, light provided by the LandRover’s headlights. No Police turned up so either the Neighbourhood Watch had gone to bed, or burying things at night in the car headlights is not considered unusual.

Curved dry stone wall, Queensbury

As I walked up the hill, I noticed an old, and neglected, stretch of dry stone walling of unusual quality. Not only was it of particularly fine construction, but it was also curved. Sadly, these walls are little appreciated now and the lifetimes spent building them long forgotten. The coping stones have been taken but it was still a fine sight.


Towards Bradford

The view across the valley towards Bradford was a lovely piece of Yorkshire countryside and looked bright and cheerful in the sunshine.

I reflected, as I walked past some houses, on just what it means to be free of a house. I saw in the window of one a collection of china pieces and outside another a couple sitting in their garden. Both good in the way that they unite a person with a place, a house. I have chosen to free myself of that attachment and I am just beginning to fully appreciate what that means. It is a huge step that opens an incredible vista of possibilities. It renews my desire to press on with the build of the motorhome so that I can start to make forays at the weekend, living in my new home on wheels. I believe that this next twelve months will fly by launching me into my own version of the Grand Tour. The prospect is thrilling.


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