motorhome

Gentle Sewing Warrior

| Mairead

(Here’s the craft shop again)

I went back to visit the craft shop yesterday and was really glad I did! I met Julie (pronounced differently, a bit like Shew-lee.) She and two other artist friends opened the shop just three months ago. They make and sell their work and each month they feature a different artist from the area. Julie gives sewing classes on Thursday evenings, hand sewing, machine sewing and pattern making. She also teaches knitting.

(And again)

We chatted for ages, her English is very good, thankfully, because we were covering more than just small talk. Julie talked about the protests last November in France and that although she agrees changes need to be made she has found a different way to protest. A quiet and gentle way.

(Hello, Julie!)

She teaches using her passion for fabric and stitch and her belief that we don’t need to have lots of clothes, just one or two good pieces. If you know how to make changes to the clothes you have then you don’t need to buy more. In that way we cut down on the damage we are doing to the earth and we save money.

(Here’s the shop opening times in case you are in Auxerre)

Things are quiet on the streets of Auxerre. Julie says they may only be able to stay open until Christmas, it is expensive to rent a premises in the city. In my ideal world Julie’s shop would be thriving, people would be queuing out the door to learn these skills. Studies show that making things, crafting, sewing, whatever it is, lowers your cortisol. Stress raises cortisol levels in your body and too much cortisol is bad for you. Julie is like medicine, I felt great in her company.

Loving Auxerre, Mairead.

Ps She’s on Facebook and Instagram. Maybe you could give her a follow?

The end is in sight…

| Mairead

(You might be able to make out the motorhomes in the distance?)

We have found a lovely spot beside the river Yonne and after all my talk yesterday about the magic of constantly moving on we’ve decided to stay a second night. Yesterday was very hot and today is wet and cool. Perfect day for short walks and long sessions working on the book. I’ve just finished the first draft of an introduction and I feel the end is in sight.

(Can you see that house has a boat tied to the garden gate?)

One of my draft readers (you know who you are!) suggested I add a bit of background, like our ages, how we met, etc. So I’ve been wandering around down memory lane uncovering how we met and why we travel together all these years later.

(Our view… sigh)

I’m having a little less success with the blurb about the book section but I’m tired writing now so I’ve stopped for the day. Just noticing that reminds me of all the times I kept going when I was tired and ended up with a head full of mean thoughts about myself. Rest is an underrated medicine. You know those new signs on the motorways that say Tiredness Kills? Well it’s not just for driving, tiredness also kills your spirit and shuts up the tiny, still voice inside you that wants to mind you. Rest.

Mind yourself, Mairead.

(That’s us in Gurgy!)

Back to Work!

| Mairead

(Beautiful strange sky last night in Gron)

I stopped doing nothing today and started working on the book correcting all my typos and writing an intro and a blurb for the amazon page. I’ve had a lot of help from my review team, for which I am very grateful. Thank you lovely people! There’s a possibility my grammar will improve, because if their help. If nothing else, I’m increasing my usage of commas. See if you notice a difference.

(Half timbered houses and old wood decorations in Saint-Julian-du-Sault)

We moved on from Gron this morning just 30 minutes down the road to a town called Saint-Julian-du-Sault. But first, I nearly forgot to mention the ham and cheese pie from the lady with the dictionary in Gron was absolutely divine! Go to her shop if you can!

(Pretty old sign post)

They have a lovely free parking spot with all the facilities at Saint-Julian-du-Sault. We arrived there around 9am and worked until noon. Then we spotted a map showing a walking route into the center of town. Always hoping to increase our step count we followed the map. There were loads of photo opportunities and a coffee opportunity.

(Three little ducks in front of the washing house)

Then we moved on. It’s hard to describe what it’s like to be able to move on at a moments notice. There’s something magical about it. It’s highly addictive and we might be addicts. We rarely stay in a place longer than two nights but we also rarely move on after only a couple of hours. This trip we have started doing just that.

(Look at the details!)

We’ll probably slow down eventually but in the meantime, we might get as far as Switzerland because Denis has spotted a Swiss science tour, that he wants to visit.

From the banks of the Yonne River, which is as good a place as any to tell Yvonne that I sent her mail… Mairead.

(Here’s Saint-Julian-du-Sault and you might be able to see Gron to the north?)

Lazy Sunday

| Mairead

(There was a bug hotel next door to the car park)

It’s Sunday… and we finally have nothing to do! But first let me bring you up to date. We travelled yesterday for most of the day to the banks of the Canal D’Orleans via the city of Chartres. It was hot. Over thirty degrees by the afternoon.

(You might be just able to make out Chartres Cathedral in the distance?)

We left our overnight spot at the town of Cambremer in the morning and headed for Chartres, famous for it’s cathedral. Also famous for it’s blue glass and a crypt and a steeple (two actually) with steps up to the top! We had our lunch in the car park just thirty minutes walk from the cathedral and changed into hot weather clothes. I got out the sun cream and the water bottles and… and we decided to get back on the road.

This is one of the reasons why I love Ireland, more than I used to, just because we travel. If someone had paid me a thousand euros yesterday I could not have walked for 30 minutes in that heat. Even though I really, really wanted to see the ancient glass – no one has been able to make the same colour glass despite modern technology. I really wanted to visit the crypt – probably nice and cool down there. And I really wanted to climb the tower – maybe not the climb bit but definitely the looking around at the top bit. It’s never too hot in Ireland to walk for thirty minutes. We turned up the air conditioning and drove on.

(Nightfall in Vitry-au-Loges)

Vitry-au-Loges is a small but perfectly delicious town on the banks of the Canal d’Orleans. We arrived at about four in the afternoon and closed all the shutters to keep our little home cool. It did not work. I went out to the bench beside the canal to find somewhere cooler to write to you. It was not. Then I completely forgot to take any pictures. The heat makes me forget stuff. Sorry… there’s one in the darkness but it’s just not the same.

Denis cooked dinner, my mother-in-law rang and I hadn’t the heart to tell her I’d like some of the “terrible weather” she was experiencing in Cork. We went for a walk and I accidentally took the only picture of that lovely town. By morning it was overcast (thank you clouds) and cooler. We emptied the cassette (not the musical kind) filled and emptied the water tanks and set off for the day.

(The church in Gron)

Then we had nothing to do! For some reason long forgotten we had picked our next parking spot just 90 minutes down the road. And here we are in Gron. We parked and went for a walk and happened upon the combined butcher/delicatessen/mini-market. We like to give business to the small shops in the towns we visit especially when we get to stay for free, so we decided to buy their dish of the day. A very appetising sounding lamb stew.

(Walking path to the town)

The butcher welcomed us and called out to his wife (I’m assuming it was his wife but I really have no idea) who came out to serve us. By now the smell of the stew was mouthwatering. She soon realised we were not in fact native speakers and went back inside… to get her dictionary! This is the very first time we have ever had this experience in France. This is a great day. I will remember this day. This day could mean I no longer have to butcher (pun intended) the French language. This lovely lady could be the new wave of French people being happy to butcher English. We could all communicate in a version of English French English. It could work. We might lose our fear of getting the grammar or pronunciation wrong and just connect. Our gestures and eyes and mixed up words could do all the work. I am very excited.

(Our dinner!)

When she had finished looking up the dictionary she was able to explain that the lamb stew was over. Over? Gone. Finished. The lovely smell was their dinner. If only the whole new wave of communication had started last year they might have realised we were falling in love with their dinner and invited us to share it but no. Maybe next year. We bought a ham, cheese, egg and cream tart instead though so now we have our own dinner.

(My snood-in-progress)

Sunday afternoon, day 3 in France, it’s raining outside (oh happy day!) and we finally have nothing to do. And we do what we remember our families did on a Sunday afternoon in Ireland in the 60’s… We turned on the radio (kinda, it’s Seth Godin reading his book Tribes on the Audible app) while Dad read the newspaper (sort of, Denis is playing Zelda on his Nintendo switch) and Mammy knits a jumper (almost, I’m crocheting a snood – it’s like a scarf.)

Wouldn’t it be interesting to think that in fifty years from now people will still choose to sit together listening or making or playing games on Sunday afternoons when they have nothing to do?

From gloriously rainy France, Mairead.

(That’s Gron in the blue circle)

On being in France with nothing to do…

| Mairead

(That’s where we got the fresh water)

We’re here! We docked on Friday at 4pm (thats 3pm Irish time). As I mentioned a couple of days ago I’m going to document what it’s like to arrive in France and have nothing to do but I’m not sure this is it… Maybe I’ll try again on Sunday.

This has been a lovely exercise (thank you Aileen!) and I’m thinking I’d like more mental exercise… so I’m going to turn on the comments and see if I can persuade you to help me explain what travelling by motorhome is really like. I know it’s probably a pain for you to ask a question in the comments or maybe it’s scary (like taking all your clothes off and running down the street?) but it’s just you, me and a few people who’ve been with us since the Garda check in Rosslare. What could go wrong?

(The garages with gas app…)

Back in Greystones I had a great idea (does it ever get old?) to sterilize our water tank. We have a 120 litre tank for water. Drinking water, showering water, dish washing water and flushing the toilet cassette water. I am a little concerned about drinking the water from it so I buy bottles of water at the supermarket and drink them, boil them for tea, cooking etc. Then I started to wonder about drinking so much bottled water…

(One can buy washing machines in French supermarkets… we can’t )

Anyway I thought I would take a step in the right direction and get the tank nice and clean. I looked up the internet and found motorhome people were using vinegar to clean their water tanks. I’ve been using vinegar for cleaning at home for months and for weed maintenance in the garden (it works great on brambles, powerful stuff) so I stopped searching for other solutions and bought a few litres. The process involved pouring the vinegar into a three quarters full tank of water, going for a long drive, emptying the vinegar water and refilling with clean water. On Thursday morning I filled the water and the vinegar and we drove to Rosslare. The water sloshed around doing it’s cleaning as we drove and then again while we sailed to Cherbourg.

(Or coffee machines… we use manual)

On arrival we had to find a place to empty the vinegar water and take in clean water. So we drove around the corner to the motorhome Aire at Cherbourg port. That’s when we realised all the water was still in the fresh water tank, it needed to be in the grey water tank to empty it. It took us an hour to empty from one to the other and out to the town drain and then refill but while we were waiting we met a lovely couple from New Zealand and as always happens we shared tips.

(Or amazing cakes… we didn’t)

Then we needed something for dinner – as we have to turn off the gas while parked on the ship, the fridge warms up overnight, so to guard against salmonella we stock up when we arrive. We plotted a route to a supermarket in Bayeux, about 60 minutes from Cherbourg. On the way we remembered we were low on gas. We use gas for cooking, heating the cabin and the water and for powering the fridge when we’re not plugged into land power. Last year we had a refillable bottle installed which means we don’t have to bring enough gas bottles for the whole trip – gas bottles have different connections here so we can’t swap a bottle when we buy a refill. Of course when you don’t have to bring the gas – it’s available at certain garages – you forget about it. We forgot. No problem, we have an app, found a garage, plotted a new route. Groceries and gas on board it was now 7pm. We were hoping to be further south beside a forest eating bbq steak, by now. Never mind, we’d drive for an hour and find a nice enough place and maybe cook the steak inside.

(The crêperie was in the middle of a huge garden, reminded me of Mount Usher in Ashford)

It was twilight by the time we reached the town of Cambremer. All thoughts of cooking inside or out had evaporated but we’d seen a sign for a crêperie and it was open for another hour. We parked, walked and ate the most amazing crêpes outside as night fell.

(We left early this morning after a walk through the town)

This is what it’s like when you have nothing to do, you do whatever really needs to be done in that moment, you muddle through, you make decisions in the moment and you realise there’s nothing to stress about, only decisions to make and then move on. We’ve been doing this motorhome thing for four years now and it’s still a thrill when we arrive in France and we remember there’s nothing to do… except take the next step. What if we didn’t have to wait until we arrived in France?

Sitting by the Canal d’Orleans thinking of you, Mairead.

Ps. I keep forgetting to show you the map…

Autumn 2019 To France

| Mairead

(Our picnic spot this afternoon…)

Hello you! We’re off to France and we’re taking you with us. Are you ready? The Garda in Rosslare checked that there were only the two of us in the van so you’re safe to come out now. As it’s France, there’s probably going to be beautiful picture opportunities and the food is definitely going to be amazing. I might need to talk about facilities (I mean toilets) but I’ll keep it brief. Something tells me rubbish bins and recycle bins might be a problem this time, I’ll let you know. One thing for sure Ruby is in tip top condition since her visit to the motorhome mechanic in France in June so we don’t envisage any drama there. We have an idea the route will take us left at Cherbourg and then south east as we search for parking with a view.

It took two hours longer than we planned to leave the house. And in spite of having those two extra hours I still managed to forget something. Nothing important. The list of important things is very small: passports, money, cards, phones and Denis’ computer. Oh and the motorhome. We have remembered all the important things.

The something I forgot was my phone’s tripod. I had this great idea that I was going to YouTube some crafting. I’m great with the ideas. This isn’t me blowing my own trumpet, it’s just true! I have no problem coming up with ideas for new projects. I do, however have a bit of a problem finishing all my projects. Well, let me rephrase that, I used to have a problem finishing all my projects. Things have changed.

(Yes our picnic spot is at a petrol station… 30 minutes from home)

You might remember the book from the last blog? The one I was afraid I wouldn’t complete? Well, I didn’t complete it. Are you shocked? Would you like to hear the whole story? As always I have buckets of time today and tomorrow because today we’re driving to the harbour (Rosslare) and tomorrow the captain of Stena Line is doing the work of sailing the ship across the Irish Sea and then the English Channel to Cherbourg.

Ok back to the whole story… It’s about a woman who was great at thinking up new ideas and she was great at imagining them being very fast to finish. The beginnings were fantastic. Full of the sheer joy of anticipation. Imagining idea after idea finished in no time at all. But the endings, they were terrible, full of angst and recriminations. Every little or big idea took way longer than she imagined. Too long, she thought. This will never be finished, she cried. She became disenchanted, disillusioned, disappointed, disempowered and distinctly sad. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had this experience but being distinctly sad can bugger up an idea and scupper a project. The longer the project took the sadder she got and in the end she nearly always gave up.

(I didn’t sleep well last night with all the excitement and so… I was up for sun rise! Isn’t Ireland only gorgeous?)

You might need to go back a few posts to remind yourself of how worried I was about not getting the book project finished. I was afraid, no, mortified that I might give up. So there I was in June, newly back from my travels ready to finish the book when I got another idea… actually I got a few ideas and a retreat.

(Can you see the boat with the water skier behind? That was 7.08am today (Thursday) in Greystones!)

I’ll tell you about the ideas and the retreat tomorrow but first I want to tell you that I found a way to recognise that having loads of ideas is actually a superpower… as long as you follow the rules: 1. One cannot turn all their ideas into projects and 2. Projects take longer than one initially thinks, a lot longer. I will be finishing the previously mentioned book project on this trip and Denis says there’s probably ten hours left in it… of course we all know he’s a bit too optimistic for my liking. So, there’s probably about thirty hours left in the book project. I’ll be starting it on Monday.

(And here’s sunset, 8.17pm Rosslare)

In the meantime I promised my friend that I would tell her what it’s like to arrive in France and have nothing to do, nothing at all (she had a hard week at work). I’m taking the weekend off all ideas and projects so that I can tell her and I’ll tell you too.

Wish me luck, Mairead.

Last day in France

| Mairead

(Cherbourg marina)

This morning we drove from Bayeux to Cherbourg. We will park all day in the car park near the Maritime Museum, Denis will work and at 6pm we will go to the port and queue for the 9pm ferry to Ireland.

(This is the theater)

Although we have been in Cherbourg numerous times arriving and leaving by ferry we have never walked around the town. Today is different. I set off to find the tourist office. Cherbourg is huge but the old part of the town is right next to the port and not a long walk.

(The pilot’s building)

The tourist office is located overlooking the water near a yacht marina and close to shops, restaurants and cafes. The streets behind it are car free and nice for a ramble. But I didn’t ramble for long. I found a fabric shop and lost track of time dreaming of all the things I could make if I only had a scissors.

(The journey leads us home)

It is hard to believe the journey is nearly over. I don’t like endings, I much prefer beginnings. In the beginning it felt like this trip would go on forever. Nothing goes on forever. In the beginning it felt like this day was very far away but that’s just a memory and waiting to leave is the only real thing. Here and now. And it’s always here and now. Even with such a long trip stretching out in front of me I was always just here and now. This makes me feel a bit better.

(Goodbye road)

If I’m always here and now and I like the beginning so much maybe it would be helpful to think of this here and now as a beginning. The beginning of the Ireland trip. The one where we stay in a house that’s way too big for us but it does have a shower and toilets and a washing machine and surprise – there’s a bath. The trip to hug family and friends and talk about Ruby, her breakdown and her recovery. The trip where we find a way to keep what we loved about being away. (Except for the croissants, we really have to break up with the croissants.) The trip where we intentionally spend time with each other.

From here and now and a new beginning, Mairead.

(Cherbourg: free parking near the ferry port all the motorhome facilities, shops and cafes nearby.)

Bayeux is Beautiful

| Mairead

(Bayeux Cathedral)

This is our last full day in France and we are spending it in the town of Bayeux. I think I read somewhere that this was the only town in Normandy that survived the Second World War. Imagine, it’s 1944 and the war has been going on for five years everyone is fed up but the allies have a plan. They will land on the beaches of Normandy with loads of troops and tanks and trucks and weapons. Then they will make their way across France neutralizing, killing or capturing the enemy.

(There are 4,000 soldiers buried in Bayeux in a beautifully maintained cemetery)

The day came, D-Day and they landed on the beaches less than 10 km from Bayeux. There was very little resistance to begin with and they were able to make this town a base for the troops and the war machinery. Very soon they realised they had to build a bypass, the first in France, to protect the old town from the war traffic as they made their way south and east to finish the war. Finishing the war took a lot longer than they planned. There were a lot more deaths and there was a lot more destruction. In the end it was the allies who were responsible for the destruction of the other towns in Normandy. War is a messy thing.

(River Aure running through Bayeux)

We arrived at the motorhome parking beside the Museum of the Battle of Normandy in the morning and I went wandering. There was a walking tour brochure in the tourist office called Vieux Bayeux (Ancient Bayeux) with a map and lots of information plaques dotted around the town. I spent a couple of very enjoyable hours following the little discs on the ground and reading the information on the plaques.

(Vieux Bayeux walking tour map)

Bayeux is most well know for the Bayeux Tapestry, a huge panel (over 200 feet long) of embroidery work that’s nearly a thousand years old. It tells the story of an earlier war. War is very popular in art.

(Old ceramic road sign)

Bayeux is a very busy town with lots of tourists and lots to see and lots of souvenirs to buy. English is spoken everywhere and there are English signs in every shop window. It could be because this is the 75th anniversary of D-Day and this is a nice place to come to remember those who have died. Walking through the war cemetery in the afternoon was a sobering experience. The most common age on the gravestones is 22. War is extremely sad.

(Pretty little water wheel near the tapestry)

There’s a huge supermarket near the cemetery and in the late afternoon I dropped in to stock up on supplies for our last day. I didn’t realise I had forgotten my purse until I was in the queue for the checkout. I experienced some panic wondering what to do. I had enough change for the bottle of water but the rest I would have to leave. The queue moved slowly forward as I practiced what I would say in French about forgetting my purse, being very sorry but I would have to leave these items but take the water…

(Beautiful shopfront near the cathedral)

Do you speak English? No… I muddled through but it’s ironic that I’m panicking about such a small thing so close to the war cemetery. If I stop panicking about the small things will I have to start panicking about the big things?

(Artist studio)

There’s an organization called The Commonwealth War Graves Commission set up in 1917. They look after the graves of the 1.7 million people buried in France after the wars of 1914-1918 and 1939-1945. There was a plaque outside their cemetery in Bayeux that made me cry. It said their “founding principal is to honour each person equally regardless of rank, race or religion and to do so forever.” Forever. We don’t do this for the living.

If we did, there would be no war. Mairead.

(Bayeux: Overnight parking €4 with rubbish and recycle bins. Very nice public toilet near the museum. Supermarket past the war memorial graveyard.)

And then there were two…

| Mairead

(View from the castle ruins… very familiar)

Two more sleeps until we leave France. I found another lovely place to spend the night. Actually we arrived around 10am so we spent the day here too. I didn’t realize it at the time I was choosing it but this town reminds me of Cashel in Tipperary, where I grew up.

(On top of the rock)

Domfront is a Cité Medieval and is built on a huge rock outcrop on an otherwise flat landscape. And so is Cashel. It was only when I was standing looking over the walls of the old town that I made the connection. The scene in front of me was not unlike the view I knew so well as a child looking over the wall at the Rock of Cashel into the town. There’s a long street in the distance called Friars Street, it runs at a slight incline. It has shops and the church and here was something very similar in Domfront, France.

(Ruins of the castle at Domfront, also familiar)

When I started reading the tourist information stands dotted around the town I realised Domfront is probably as much English as French. Some memory of history class reminded me the kings of England were also kings of northern France. Think of the region of Brittany. Domfront is in Normandy (to the east of Brittany) and the Normans although originally from Scandinavia, invaded England from Normandy. So this place has seen a lot of battles and a lot of blending and mixing of nations. As has Ireland.

(Gateway to the town)

Maybe that’s why this place feels so peaceful. It really does. We both felt very calm as we walked around the old town towards the runs of the castle. But maybe it’s just familiarity. The castle walls are made of grey stone, probably granite, very different from the finish of a Château or the red stone of the walls in Portuguese Silvas. But very like home. The roofs of the houses in the town are topped with slate, most French roofs have red tiles.

(Grey stone, this could be any town in Ireland)

Intentionally choosing this town even without knowing its history or its story reminds me of the time Denis choose to drive to Beja when we needed a garage. Or the time we drove into the motorhome dealer in Benet when we really, really needed a garage. Our brains take in far more information than we are aware of and then they offer it back to us when we seem to need it.

(Higgle-de-Piggledy houses)

It’s not always a given that I listen to the quiet internal voice because it’s hard to believe what’s not in front of my eyes. But the alternative is to work everything out and try to control the results. I would prefer to listen more to that quiet voice because it was right to bring me here. To a familiar place for the first time in a long time.

I love the unusual but maybe I’m getting ready for the familiar, Mairead.

(Domfront: free parking, motorhome facilities behind office of Mairie. Public parking. Best croissants in France!)