It’s been a long winter, cold, grey and wet in my imagination. And though I’ve been camping in the winter in former years, it was difficult to get motivated this time round. The terms off which I’ve been blogging – it’s about travel; caqmpervanning; and recovering from grief – meant that I denied myself the joy of writing to you. I could have had a blast of politics, what with Trump getting more unhinged by the day, and the difficulties of Labour in terms of UK, but I’m considering taking those thoughts onto Substack.

I did consider sharing my travel plans for this year, but it felt premature. I’ve now booked my crossing for May; and made reservations for campsites during French public holiday weekends, so it’s all looking like go. to make sure all is ready, time being what it is, I’ve taken two nights at an old favourite (Broadhembury Caravan and Camping Park, near Ashford) to shake the van down and see what I’ve forgotten. It’s glorious weather, if a chill breeze; and the night temperature outside was down to 4degC. The electric throw was a godsend, and the diesel space heater came in handy too. As is usual, I went to bed early and slept through for two hours more than usual. I’ve been told there’s a physiological explanation for this, to do with melanin production in the outdoors or something. Above my pay grade. in the end, I’d forgotten to pack a pair of shorts, and had the wrong kind of coffee filters. Nothing a quick trip to the Designer Outlet centre, and Asda, couldn’t sort out. I had remembered sunscreen. Fortuitously.

To be fair, much of the winter seems to have been about body maintenance: mostly mine. Type 2 Diabetes is reasonably under control, and the team at Guys referred me to Pulmonary Rehabilitation. This turned out to be a six ek course of physical exercises, designed to build muscle and improve stamina. nine the state of my biceps, as revealed in a photo last summer, not before time. It was suppose to be twice a week, but as one day clashed with Tai Chi, I was excused on the grounds that the latter was pretty good. The up-shot was, after lung-function tests and whatnot, my lungs aren’t getting worse: I’m now signed off until next February. All I have to do now is find time to exercise. I’m sad in a way, as I enjoyed the company; and to be honest, it gave me an excuse to talk about myself, an acknowledged failing.

Maintaining Willma has been another theme, and preparatory for long odysseys. The annual maintenance suggested tyres were getting old; and knowing the MoT test was due shortly, I got her reshod. A drawback of pretty oversize wheels is the cost of new rubber – over £750 for mid range brand, which they claim are good in the wet. Given past experience, especially in torrential downpours in the Var, I figured that being prepared means I’ll have a summer of fine weather. The starter battery was showing signs of tiredness, so got RAC Service in to put a new one on. I’m keeping fingers crossed that’s it. Just the MoT test this week, which should be fine.

Having kept you in suspense regarding the plan, I can reveal – drumroll, maestro, please – the first night will be here at Broadhembury, ready to catch the 7:50 crossing. it saves about an hour but should add a measure of piquancy to the trip, and may help assuage some of my regular, and increasing, anxiety about these matters. Lunch on the autoroute – Aire d’Urvillers – then down to Châtillon-sur-Seine for two nights. There’s a museum there which contains the “Trésors de Vix”, a Gaulish burial site including a humungous cauldron, said to have inspired Goscinny and Uderzo’s portrayal of Getafix the druid in the Asterix books. Another five-hour stint takes me to Lac d’Aiguebellette for two more nights. It is claimed this is the warmest lake in France, fed by seven hot water springs. in late summer it has been known to reach 27degC. And from there, leaving it a bit loose, but the following weekend meeting up with family and friends at Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne once more. And that’s enough planning for now. AI suggested I might enjoy the chateaux of the Loire. Watch this space.

So the second night, sleep disturbed. It sounded like someone was knocking pegs in at indeterminate intervals. And, although snug in the bed, it was cold – put me off my 2 o’clock wee break. Woke up to 0degC outside temperature, frost on the grass. Deploying the cab heater, it took two runs to get the van up to 22deg, by which time I was brave enough to emerge from my cocoon. Slowly, I took down the canopy, switched off all the systems, washed and showered myself, then the crockery, and got ready to come home. Nearly forgot to turn the gas off – must find a way to remind myself of that one. All in all, a successful trip, most things worked as planned; a few little things of the list, but nothing much.

Got home to find a letter on the mat from a parking firm, saying I’d parked illegally at Trosley County Park, where I go every Monday. checking the records, it looks as if my annual season ticket had expired, unknown to me and without a reminder from Kent County Council. I do think these firms are a bit of a scam, and the tone of their letters is verging on extortion. And trying to check online is nearly impossible, says Angry of Dartford. on top of that, I find water dripping down the back wall. After examination it looks like it was the overflow from the header tank, so the ballcock valve needs a bit of attention. No sniggering, you at the back. now I have lowered the water level, the drip has stopped. Normally I would shut the water off, but didn’t bother for a short stay.