Day 2. Worrying. Nothing much to report.
Well this is going to kill the following if it keeps up, I mean - most people only read these travel reports so they can be horribly fascinated by my trials and tribulations and be very very glad it's not happening to them. Second day of nothing much to report, if you don't count the satnav which clearly has developed an aversion to major cities where it might actually be useful as it switched off just short of Bordeaux, following it's practice run in Madrid yesterday. Hmm.
Clearly some things don't like travel or change as I now find my UK phone has gone on strike sporadically since I arrived this evening and has difficulty finding a network. The best it can do is something named 20888 but even that disappears in between texts. It SHOULD be on orange, which is not too hard for my Spanish phone to find but then again, that's a smart phone and the UK one is clearly stupid. The lengths I have to go to to find something to write about eh?
For form's sake, this is how the day went. I left Vivar del CId after a pleasant but simple breakfast and a nice cheap bill, bidding farewell and hasta ano qui viene to Laura on the basis that more than likely, all being well, it will be same again next year........then I zizzed up the alternative to the motorway with tolls as far as I could, after which it is one after another and I don't care how small a charge each carries, it all adds up and it's a pain in the bum having to get out and go round to get a ticket and pay the toll. I met up with Rod who is also driving back in his car (which has been at my house since last august but that would be to digress so I'm not explaining why) just short of Irun and off we went in convoy, me in front on the basis that my van is easier to see than his car on account of it being a) a van b) bigger and c) tastefully and uniquely white with a big green bookworm. When the customs men pulled me just over the border it was slightly consoling to observe him questioned as well. I got the usual intake of breath when I obligingly open the back door (after standing well back) but thankfully to date they mostly seem to think it's nto worth the time it would take to watch me unpack it all and perhaps they don't really want to see a grown up cry either. The only other slight occurrence of note was in a section with roadworks we were overtaken by a works vehicle with a display on the roof facing the traffic behind it which began to announce "obstacle", upon which we slowed down awaiting who knows what, which never materialised, so eventually we overtook and tootled on our way. What was that about then?
My billet for tonight was chosen for it's character and price since there was nothing else appealing and affordable in the usual perameters of 2nd night stops, it appeared to be about 20km to the east of the motorway but I don't think my satnav agreed as it took at least three quarters of an hour to reach it, also at variance were some of the place names signed back along roads a bit bigger than the ones I'd just come along, and some of those places were quite possibly en route.........however, I'm here, and full of character it is indeed, quaint old French stone house in a small quiet village (apart from whatever sped past here 10 minutes ago at enormous speed, and one dog which had a good woof around the same time. Comfortable room and friendly host with whom I sat and chatted in the courtyard until 9.30. Rod has apparently made it as far as Tours on the basis that he started later than me this morning and didn't want to drive so far tomorrow, so looks like I will be calling for him again on my way past, as it were.
Do understand that I really don't mind uneventful journeys, truly, but I have learnt that generally one can be lulled into a false sense of security when it appears to be going this well. Yesterday when the worst I could report was the one bar in the village being shut I did contemplate resurrecting a list of the en route disappointments in which that would certainly have figured, but the only other one which immediately sprang to mind was getting a room with a bath (to my great excitement) only to find the buggers had removed the plug. For those bemused by such apparent over-reaction, you need to know that baths are very rare in Spain - but I have one in my present house so the novelty has worn off.
Today in my idle musings I once again compare France to Spain in various respects, wonder how I was ever moderately fluent in French when I can barely remember how to say please and thankyou now and how Spanish just seems easier somehow including pronunciation. I wonder where I would chose to live given a completely free choice and which trouser leg of life might have deposited me somewhere other than where I am now. But mostly I just make mental lists of all the things I need to do when I reach base and ready for festival no. 1 (Acoustic Festival of Britain, Uttoxeter racecourse) and trying to work out if this is my 3rd or 4th year there. Which reminds me, how good is this? The first year I did festivals not markets in the summer, the 2013 season began with Napton and on my last market day in Trapiche two days ago, a bloke came to the stall while I was talking festivals to a mate and what is he wearing but a Napton festival t-shirt, he used to be one of the organisers. Small world.
And on that note, I shall finish off for today...........