Despite our best efforts to leave, we are still in the UK, and may realistically still be here for Christmas. That's assuming our families will have us, having said goodbye too many times already. The stress of trying to stick to a fixed date had removed all joy and excitement from the preparation, and had started to sour the trip before it had even begun. Completely counter-productive of course, and we're now back on track with a vengeance and a smile.
Oddy the truck has been playing up. Again. I've chosen to see it as endearing - for now. She hangs two inches lower on the passenger side (should I be worried about my weight?) and now requires two replacement leaf springs, and also good look at the front diff which is leaking too much oil, even by Land Rover standards. Something makes an odd sound when we hit 40mph too, though we've no idea what that is. Maybe we'll never know. Oh, the joy of Landies.
We've decided to take an off-road driving course together, including winching and recovery skills. A rather sensible decision no doubt, though for Huw I'm sure it's just another chance to get his oily overalls back on and play at being in the army for two days. Our off-roading experience will appear in a forthcoming issue of Land Rover Owner International magazine: I shall definitely post here and make you all buy it that month, have no fear.
What else? We're slowly reaching the peak of the mountain of paperwork: visas, health insurance, truck insurance and carnet de passage all ordered neatly in my ridiculous filing system, one by one. The rest of our maps and guidebooks have been ordered and should arrive shortly, subject to postal strike.
Lastly, we are desperately seeking a lodger to complete our Brighton home. Does anyone know anyone?
So these final bits and pieces are keeping us here. Frustrating, yes, though I'm not really complaining. I never expected, for example, to get to know Babsie's baby Freya Rose so well, to hang out with my girls on our annual festive blowout, or to see my grandparents again before leaving. Good always comes out of bad somehow.
