What is she on about now?

Am I getting too old for this??

First off, anyone waiting with bated breath can sigh with relief now - come on, it's only been 2 weeks since I arrived and I've been very busy. ANd if you are on facebook you will have seen the photos and highlights of last weekend at Acoustic Festival of Britain.

But what, you may be wondering, happened after day 2 of the journey??

Ok, you've persuaded me. Day 3 took me from a nice little b&b in a small town in mid France up to Boulogne Sur Mer where I did after all meet up with Rod eventually. In Boulogne in fact, because the convoy parted company on the second night when I peeled off the motorway to find my bed for the night, and he carried on, and on, and on, and found nowhere to stay, all fully booked, causing me to reflect on that being a major reason for my erstwhile journey planning these past couple of years - to avoid precisely that scenario when at some unholy hour of the morning one gives up and sleeps as best one can in the car/van since there is not a room to be had. So I proceeded to catch him up but no thanks to the satnav which refused to help me find the petrol station near where I stayed. I also cleaned the van with a most satisfactory jet wash which fetched off the headlight defectors which have been on the van for 7 years almost and have long turned black and which my mechanic declined to attempt to remove on the grounds he might damage the headlight glass. Simples - 2 euros in a Blue Elephant car wash in France, sorted.

Anyway, Boulogne. I had booked the F1 with some trepidation but figured the lack of private shower/loo which is smaller than most people's wardrobe was possibly worth the 10 euros or more I'd save from the Premier Classe. I can now report that the room is almost identical and has a washbasin and there are plenty of loos/showers but also plenty of rooms..........hey I saved 10 euros. But it wasn't walking distance to town but then walking back was no joke to the Premier anyway. Rod and I sampled a menu du jour and he rushed off to check in at Dunkerque, an hour past his destination the following day but that's where the nearest late booking was. I rest my case (on a bed in the F1).

I left without breakfast (another 5 euros saved) as still full of menu du yesterday, got awarded an earlier than booked crossing, departed, arrived, whilsted down the southern end of the UK and arrived at my mum's. Sorted. Incident free, pretty much. Sorry.

So, a day of listing stock on Amazon and catching up with Mum, then off to the MIdlands via the M27 services where I would meet my supplier of festival blankets. Eventually. Text messages and calls to someone waiting for an email don't always get through.

And so to Long Eaton, my daughter, son in law, and Dave the cat.

3 days in which to empty the van and repack it with some of that and the rest from the storage unit, where opening the door causing one to stand well back and say "bugger". 9 solid hours of moving stuff up and down, in and out, and the van is more or less ready for the first festival. I'm still knackered from weeks of rushing around in Spain, packing the van, riving for four days and then more driving to get to the midlands, 9 hours of van/storage unit shenanigans takes its toll and then a whole day of building the stall and setting it up......everything aches and muscles spasm painfully throughout the night. Am I getting too old for this? It's becoming a theme, believe me.

To be continued.