Old age is a bit of a bugger, but if we are lucky, it catches up with all of us eventually. We recently spent a week with my dad who at 91 physically can't do everything he would want to do and what he can do, to his frustration, takes more time and effort than he would like. He is of course from a generation that just gets on with it and he keeps busy doing the chores he can do around the house. His speciality is pot washing. In answer to the question 'Dad, where are you going' the answer usually will be 'I'm just going to tidy up in the kitchen'. The dishwasher is loaded after every meal, there are no pots to wash, but a few minutes later we'd hear the familiar rattle from the sink. He is like a pot washing ninja, somehow always finding a cup or glass to wash, quite where they came from remains a mystery to me. 

Apparently the age of 25 is a turning point, it is the end of youth and early adulthood and is the transition to serious 'adulting'. This, according to my youngest daughter Meg, who has just set off on her latest great adventure, travelling through Africa. In the heady days of her youth, she set herself the target of visiting all 7 continents by the age of 25, with Africa being her final continental challenge. To plan, fund and travel to some of the most remote and beautiful places in the world, is an amazing achievement at any age but to have done this when she is so young I think is just incredible, and I'm a very proud dad. 

With the polar plunge completed our ship the Magellan Explorer headed towards Deception Island which is part of the South Shetland Islands. The island has this unusual name because it gives the impression of being an island but it is shaped like a horseshoe with a protected natural harbour. The island is an active volcano, as you land on the shore steam rises as the cold sea laps onto the black cinder beaches. Although the surface of the beach is warm to the touch, dig your hand a few inches under the surface and it's unbelievably hot. Due to its location and sheltered bay Deception Island has a chequered history, it was used as a shore based whaling station, where whales were brought to be processed and the oil stored in vast tanks, some of which remain to this day. After the end of the whaling industry the base was used by the British during the war and then as a scientific research station until the volcano erupted in 1967 and again in 1969 after which the base was closed. Some of the wooden buildings on the island and an aircraft hangar remain but are very dilapidated. Deception Island had quite a different look and feel to it compared to the Antarctic continent and surrounding islands but it has a fascinating history and it's not everyday you can say you've sailed into an active volcano. 

There are many remote areas of the world, but it is hard to describe the isolation you feel in Antarctica. We had left the nearest civilisation over 2 days ago and we were now approximately 700 miles away from Ushuaia. The only people we would see over the 10 days of our trip are the 91 guests and 60 crew on the ship. There are no vapour trails in the sky, no background hum of traffic, no mobile phones ringing, no birds singing. This is a remote and harsh landscape but with stunning and simple beauty. For a lot of the trip I found it difficult to take everything in that I was seeing, it's not too strong an expression to say I felt in awe of my surroundings. People have asked me what the most memorable moment was of the trip, that's really difficult to say because every day has its own special memories, but the times when we just stopped, put the camera down and were present in the moment, the vastness and drama of the landscape and the silence and tranquillity will last with me forever. It was a real privilege to be here.

I love Barbados and my thoughts often turn to how I could fund my own little villa out here in the sun. I'm not talking about something along the lines of an £11 million mansion in Montecito but I am thinking of following in the Duke of Sussex footsteps and writing a book. It's at the early stages of planning and I've decided to call it 'Thas nowt but a Reyt Mardy Arse'. Just for clarity and in case the Dukes lawyers read this blog, the title is not a commentary on the Dukes recent publication, but more referring to the main revelation in my

Messages had started to reach us from outside camp that the weather was cold and wet on the north coast of Spain and snow was falling across the Pyrenees. As we contemplated our return journey we started to get that feeling you have when you are nice and warm in bed and you really don't want to step out into the cold but you know you can't stay there forever. We didn't want to leave our cosy little bubble on the Med, especially as our planned route home took us across the Pyrenees and up the very wet, West coast of France. On the plus side at least the cold and wet weather clothes we had brought with us would get an outing. 

The weather and temperatures during our stay in Spain have exceeded our expectations, we came loaded with jumpers and jeans, but the only things we needed were t-shirts, shorts and the odd fleece for those cool evenings. But, when it rains, it rains! Black clouds stacked on black clouds that make the daytime feel like night, deep rumbling thunder that make the walls shake and lightning that goes on forever across the dark sky. All this accompanied with torrential downpours. We had a couple of days of these storms, during which it's all quite cosy sat in the MoHo, except that it's no good trying to watch TV, talk or sleep because the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of the van makes it impossible. 

We crossed into France via the EuroTunnel and headed towards our first campsite South East of Rouen where we had a lovely pitch on the banks of the Seine. Les Andelys is a beautiful little town and the impressive Chateau Gaillard stands high above the river. The Castle was built to protect the Norman frontier by Richard the Lionheart, who among his many titles was Duke of Normandy, I don't suppose he had much of a hand in doing the building work, but how did he have the time to get that organised alongside the crusades? On our second day on site I thought we might have been heading for our own crusade, as the sky darkened and a strong wind rocked the van from side to side, this was followed by torrential rain and then hailstones. I had visions of us slipping off the pitch into the Seine and floating off down the river. Then as quickly as it started it stopped and the sun came out. It wasn't until we met a couple later on our trip who told us about the hurricane and tornadoes that had left a trail of destruction  through the Calais region, I think we had caught the back end of it and we were lucky to have not travelled a day later.

Three weeks! Are you sure? I'd been waiting 14 long months for the Motorhome to arrive, there had been many false dawns along the way as promised delivery dates came and faded into the distance. Then at the beginning of August our dealer called to say the MoHo had arrived. Well the joy lasted for about 30 seconds as he then went on to say, we just need to wait for the paperwork to arrive and then we can register the vehicle and you can collect it. Ok, so how long do you expect that to take? I asked, well usually about three weeks. My protestations appeared to drift over the salesman's head, as he said yes three weeks is really good, during the Covid lockdown it was taking up to three months! Then of course the next penny dropped as I realised where we were heading, it was pointless to collect the van a week before we could register it on a 72 plate on 1st September. So three weeks became 4. It was as though Christmas had arrived, the presents were sitting under the tree but I had to wait until the end of January to open them. Despite the swirl of emotions going round my head, pragmatism took over and we agreed on a collection date of 1st September. We did though arrange to have a sneaky peak at the big shiny present a couple of weeks before we collected it, just to make sure it was as we remembered it after all this time.

They always say keep your eye on your belongings when you are relaxing on the beach, but little did I realise that I was going to be the perpetrator rather than the victim of a mobile phone and t-shirt heist. After a day of sunbathing Meg, Ellie and her Partner Ben, had all drifted off to a beach bar and Mrs Riley had headed back to the apartment. Assuming even I couldn't mess this up, I was left in charge of the straightforward task of packing away the towels, kindles, sun cream etc in the beach bag. So as my thoughts turned to a nice cold beer or two from the fridge, everything that was left on or around our sun loungers just got scooped up and placed into the bag. As I set off back to our apartment I was confronted by a guy asking me about an iphone. Part of me was thinking bloody hell, these beach hawkers standards have improved, they used to just offer towels or sundresses. But no he was quite insistent that I had his iphone and for good measure his airpods and t-shirt. Looking back the confusion had started because assuming everyone had gone from our lounges the iPhone guy had left his t-shirt, airpods and phone on the end table while he played beach football and without any thought I'd mistakenly assumed Ben had left his phone  etc. After reaching an understanding of what the problem was, I had a good rummage around in the bag and there it all was. We had a good laugh about it, well I did, I'm not sure he was fully convinced.

Well if this is a taste of retirement I'm all for it! Winter sun, white beaches, clear blue sea and reports of frost and snow from back home. I'm not officially retired until April, so I'm taking the view that I'm on a retirement training course. It's best not to suddenly stop when you finish, but unwind slow and steady, and if ever there was a culture to help you achieve that Barbados has to be top of the list. Is it wrong to admit that I felt a bit of a warm glow as people started to return to work after the Chtistmas break? It could have been the sunburn taking effect, but I think it was more the knowledge that I've only got 46 days left to work when we get home. 

I hope everyone has had a fabulous Chtistmas, as always it flies by, but for me it's been nice to spend time with family and friends. I've had so many lovely presents over the years, but one that always sticks in my mind was a 6ft by 4ft sheet of varnished chipboard. You are probably thinking poor lad, but I didn't have a hard childhood, it's just that sometimes the simplest presents are the best. As a child I was a massive fan of Subbuteo and the chipboard enabled me to keep my green cloth pitch flat and smooth and it meant I could play at table level rather than scrabbling about on the floor with an uneven pitch. 

It's been a while since my last blog, but I have been busy, not just looking after the chickens you understand, I've been exploring the world of South Kesteven! For those of you that are non the wiser, South Kesteven is a district in South Lincolnshire and probably one of the great undiscovered areas of the country.

Well it's been a while since my last blog, but nothing much has changed, who knew a year on and we'd still be doing the 4 point check every time we leave the house, keys, phone, wallet and of course mask - 'has anyone seen my mask' was a question that I don't think I'd uttered until about a year ago, now it's one of my top three most frequently asked lock down questions. Not that anyone of course wants to borrow my mask, (unlike the car keys or my credit cards), it's more a matter of principle and a mental agility test to see if i can remember what I was wearing the last time I stepped out of the house. This usually results in a hunt through the pockets of clothes that have been thrown into the washing machine before I just give up and put on a disposable mask on instead. 

Friday and the end of our annual narrowboat adventure, in some ways it comes as a bit of a relief, the thought of returning home to a comfy bed and eating and drinking normally (you will have probably spotted that we have slightly overindulged on food and drink). I can't wait to see Oscar the dog and check up on the chickens, oh and of course it goes without saying seeing my wife and daughters. I will miss the camaraderie, the boys chat, the beer and the slower pace of life on the boat; but it's not over until the fat lady sings and we still have lots to do.

Thursday morning was beautiful, cold but with the sunshine starting to break through the trees. So following breakfast we set off on our journey returning to Stone, leaving the Staffs & Worcs canal and back onto the Trent & Mersey.

There was a bit of a debate between Captain Neil and Sous Chef/Commander Stevie, about how long the journey would take. The best way to calculate distance and time on the canals is to use Nicholson's Guide, which shows you standard mile markers and the locks you have to pass through. Added together these give you lock miles, eg if the journey was 12 miles and you pass through 3  locks then you are travelling 15 lock miles. Divide this by 3 (mph) and it tells you how long your journey will take, in this example 15 lock miles = 5 hours. The calculation for today indicated 7 hours but Captain Neil was clearly expecting us to get a spurt on (within the speed limits of the canal of course) predicting 6 hours. Well the proof will be in the arrival time as they say. I'll let you know who was closest.

Wednesday morning and we awoke to rain, nothing too heavy, the drizzly stuff, you know, wet rain. Our day's schedule is to turn the boat around just beyond our overnight mooring in Penkridge, then head back to Stafford, approx a 3 hour journey. The Captain has granted the crew shore leave for the day, to explore the pubs of Stafford. We have visited Stafford before and have some favourites to revisit. 

Yesterday, by October standards was a very busy day on the canal, it might have been the sunshine that brought all the fair weather boaters out, but this meant that we had a few delays at the several locks we passed through. Although we helped several people to fill and empty the locks, the knock on effect was that we lost time against our schedule and we had to miss our planned stop at the Bod in Baswich. We did however make it to Penkridge in good time and had a few beers in the Littleton Arms, before returning back to the boat for meatballs in goulash sauce and some red wine.