A memory of a change in camping style.

John said to Jesus: “we saw someone casting out devil’s in your name, and he isn’t following us so we told him to stop it!! ”

But Jesus said: “don’t tell him to stop it, for there is no man who can do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me. For the person that is not against us is on our side. … and whoever offends one of these little ones that believes in me, it is better for him to be drowned with a millstone round his neck!!!”

Mark 9: 38 – 42 ( think again Sandy when being critical!)

Dad was not into change.  If it did happen, it was gradual and at his pace which annoyed mum who was wise but could be impulsive. (Can you say wise and impulsive together? Our Mum!)  Dad was afraid of debt and everything was saved for and then bought, more times than not, from a retailer or second hand from someone advertising in the newspaper.

It was while camping in our tent year after year with our same neighbours, who we became friends with, that dad and the neighbour used a word     “skuldbult”.  This word is Afrikaans and means spending money you don’t have, to keep up with the Jones. (That expression just means you want to look rich like everyone else).  It was quite common to go walking through the camp site and chat to people and Dad would quickly come to the conclusion that alot of what he saw was “skuldbult”.  I wonder now if it was his way of coping with jealousy.

Well, our friend’s gran died and they didn’t come camping anymore and then Dad must have saved enough to buy our first 4 birth Sprite Caravan.  I distinctly remember the wedding pictures of the children all displayed on polished wooden tables as Dad discussed the price and agreed to buy our van from an elderly retired couple (like us now😉). The van  had red/maroon bunk beds, the table and benches made up into a double bed. Then the walls were cream with wooden cupboards.  This was now to be our Volvos new towing companion instead of the trailer.  Dad had saved and we were thrilled.  I wish I had pictures but I don’t.  What I am left with is a love of living in a van.

Bugzy is doing fine here in Spain.  She is cool enough and snug enough.  A memory of a childhood van played out in the enjoyment of being a traveller as apposed to a holiday maker, in a small but comfortable motor home.  This morning we left Devesa, a campsite we spent much longer at than expected. The city of Valencia turned out to be intriguing and Bugzy and Bess were well cared for.

  After a last cycle ride this morning.  We have travelled inland, up and away from the coast.