I started this blog in 2013, picking it up in earnest in July 2014 when we left the school and started our travels. Then I wrote every day. Every. Day. In 2014 you didn’t have mobile signals and your phones couldn’t do hotspots. The only way to get WiFi was to find some. Writing the blog became a passion – finding a WiFi signal (think: the butt-end of Sicily in the winter of 2014) a scourge. I posted sitting outside tourist information offices and closed down hotels. I used the Fon network in France (a sister company with BT), but that was unreliable. Anyhow, I did it. Every. Day.

Book 9 in the Sam Green series made it into print!

I can’t remember exactly when, but at some point, probably 18 months later, I went to twice a week, and then every week … and, latterly, when I can be bothered. The thing is, writing was my job. If you ignore the blog, I’m 10 novels and 1.3 million words in print. I guestimate that there are another 1 million of my words out there on WordPress, recounting our lives as we went from fulltiming in Doris 1 (July 14 to Jan 16), to Doris 2 (Jan 16 to Dec 18), to living in our 2 up, 2 down in Bradley Stoke (Jan 19 – through the pandemic – to Dec 22), and finally our rented cottage near Dursley (Jan 23 to date). Over 2 million words, quite a few of them spelt correctly and many of them in the right order. 

I have also run a small leadership consultancy business, which is still ongoing (I am mentoring 2 senior teaching staff and am due to carry out a team 360 on a small business in December). And me and C helped our Jen with her dog accessory business for about 6 months. Oh, and I taught at a state school in Brissol for two terms, something which has indelibly left a mark on both my conscience and my emotions.

We had a lovely time in Scotland

C has had bladder cancer, surgery, and rung the bell – although she needs another inspection next summer. I have had a prostate cancer scare, and I think we might be through that – although, as my PSA level is still raised and I do have a growth, I need a further check next Spring before they close this thing down. C has had other ‘women’ issues, requiring additional surgery, as well as breaking her wrist. And I have two hernias and a benign lump on my abdomen which shouldn’t be there.

I lost my Dad, then my brother (full-blown covid) and then my mum. C and I then lost Mary – last year. Our Jen has had all manner of  health issues, including major surgery for a precancerous growth on her pancreas, which has led to her being immuno-compromised and disabled. Bex and Steven have moved from Wolverhampton, to Barbados, to Seoul, to Ryiahd. 

And, of course, both girls have married to men we love and we have a grandson, who is just the fabbist thing imaginable. 

Henry is FIVE!

None of those things have stopped us doing what we do. Fulltiming was a dream. You’ll need to look back over the blog to be reminded of what we did and where we went, but it included non-motorhome trips to the US, Bahamas, Tunisia, Istanbul and skiing every year in Chatel – sometimes for up to three weeks. But the freedom of living without things, and moving when we wanted, was the best. Latterly, more housebound, we have used Doris regularly (mostly French/Spanish Med coast and Scotland), and travelled elsewhere without her, including SE Asia, Seoul, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Greece and Dubai.

I remind you of this, not, I hope, by way of bragging, but to remind C and I, and – where the caps fits – anyone else, that travelling is an exceptional way of playing out the last quarter of your lives. We have been immensely fortunate to be able to semi-retire, become digital nomads (I have made some cash in all of these endeavours), keep working at our fitness, look out for and love our family and friends, whilst getting out there. This year we have skied in Chatel, had 11 days in Rhodes, spent a month in Scotland in Doris, and are coming to the end of 9 weeks in Spain. All while C dealt with her cancer. Sure, it’s not free. But you may remember that when we moved into Doris one, we sold nearly everything (apart from property, which looked after itself – paying off mortgages and fixing things), and with a military pension travelled on a budget of £50/a day, which included fuel and ferries. We were brutal with the budget, and continue to be.

Walking, even when at home.

I think my point is two-fold – both of which are self-evident, but when has that stopped me from an opportunity to lecture? First, we know that we are lucky. We know that we have each other, and whilst that’s not always a bed of roses, it has never let us down … and will not. C and I are creatures of compromise (with each other), blessed to be with a fellow spirit who doesn’t want a seat on the village council, a vegetable garden, or to play in the local darts team. We manage in a small space and require very little, other than sunshine or snow to keep us keen. And we countlessly remind ourselves how lucky we are.

Spain has been fab

Second, life must be about experiences and not things. Surely? We have some nice stuff, for sure. But not too many. Doris is 15 years old. We live in rented accommodation. We don’t have an expensive car; or fashionable clothes (C will ask me to retract that). But we do have history full of things we’ve done, places we’ve seen, and people we’ve met. We’d rather be in the far corner of a foreign place, making fools of ourselves in a language we don’t speak, than shopping in Tescos. Experiences. Not things. 

I get that many of you don’t see this. Nor want it. Living in a small space on top of each other – every day, especially in poor weather – amplifies the negatives as well as the positives. And that some of you will think that this kind of privilege breeds that kind of arrogance. Not everyone can afford to just downsize and bugger off … what about our families? We fully understand. In the meantime, we have made this choice and, thus far, we have no regrets. And we do do our best to do the family thing.  

Anyway. 

Benidorm, believe it or not.

Scotland for a month (Jun/Jul) was fab. We were blessed with the best weather and whilst we worried about C’s upcoming scan(s), and my back was a mess (which I wrongly linked to my prostate), we met up with old army pals and very much enjoyed the northeast coast. 

Spain had been brilliant – very reminiscent of our first, 8-month trip to Sicily/Greece, in Doris One. Nine weeks is a long time and it really feels like fulltiming. And, surprisingly, we are looking forward to getting home (via Paris to see Notre Dame), seeing family (with a trip to Brussels Christmas market by train with the elder kids and Henry), and then Christmas with C’s sister and Jen and James. And then we start again …

Doris has been fab. Things have broken and, thus far, I have managed to fix them all. Her new 300AH li-ion battery has been brilliant and she hasn’t missed a beat, other than a diesel spill having been overfilled. We have roughed it with beachside hippy colonies and lavished ourselves in campsites. We have skinny-dipped and drunk a lot of cafe-coffee. And we’re still talking to each other.

Have I written this as my last blog? Is this the end? I dunno. Maybe. Possibly not. We are currently just north of Blanes, by a lake next to Banyoles, and are heading back into France tomorrow – and back onto the coast for our final views of the Med. I have not started book 10 in the Sam Green franchise, but I do have the makings of a plot. And, at one point, I thought I was practising to play the bass guitar. So I do need to find a focus for 2026, to complement our travels … which will not be blogging every day!

In the meantime, stay safe. I think the Epstein saga is Trump’s dying breath as a politician. He is nothing without his base (they are the only reason the GOP suffer him), and I think Epstein, tariffs (and the economy), and bulldozing the East Wing, have severely undermined MAGA’s confidence in their icon … and we’re not there yet with Epstein, as the FBI files will be much worse than the ones released by the estate, unless they’ve edited them. I think he’s a spent force. And here, Labour have taken two big guns and shot off both feet. I don’t think anyone could have handled their first year and a bit any worse. It’s not that they haven’t got sensible policies, it’s just their comms are staggeringly bad and forming policy by public reaction to soundbite is no way to lead a country.

Doris just being fab …

Oh well. At least we’ve managed to keep climate change below 1.5 degrees above pre-industrial norms … 

[I’ve just reread this and it all sounds a bit self-congratulatory. Sorry if that’s the case. And, for the record, we have moved to a lovely aire – which we have stayed in before – at Sete. We’re here for a couple of days before we start moving north, via Paris, to pop into Notre-Dame … just as the temperatures drop by 12 degrees!]