Sometimes
it’s hard to leave. The truck still needs attention and even small jobs
take time. Get tools out… Sit on the floor and stare into a cupboard
trying to work out the best way to build shelves when the doorway is
too small to fit the wood needed to build it… Take measurements… Come
up with a plan that might work, maybe… Make tea… Loose tape measure…
Set up workbench… Search for tape measure… Take measurements. Again…
Realise that the screws recently bought from B&Q are 4mm too long
so drive back to Dante’s big orange hellhole for the fourth time in
less than 24 hours.
Though
a job could be done leisurely in a field somewhere just off the road
after a camper-cooked breakfast, there are lures that lead down an
easier route, even if that means not moving at all: access to mains
electricity for power tools, a garage to work in out of the rain,
wireless internet and kitchen with a well stocked fridge.
It’s all an excuse though. I am stalling, despite
all the plans, the money, the effort and the dreams. Leaving isn’t
easy. There’s still a desire for adventure, a full commitment to what
we are about to do, whatever that may be. It’s just not easy to leave
my sister, my mother and my father knowing that I may not see them for
a year or more. Stalling seems easier than saying goodbye.
