Life on hold but hopeful

I have been sitting in my van, listening to the rain. There has been a lot of rain and I am told there will continue to be so. It was, after all, inevitable after the pronouncements of drought by the weathermen. But the rain falls on the metal roof of the van and I sit wistfully, regarding my reclaimed cedar cladding and watching the rain run in rivulets down the windows.

 The tendency to introspection engendered by the atmospheric and moody (Literally!) charm of rain is much portrayed in popular culture of all types, but sitting in here, the picture of Me Old Dad looking down at me with amusement, the longing for adventure is poignantly underlined by the tip-tapping of huge rain drops outside, like a thousand unsynchronised tap-dancing weasels on my roof. I look longingly at the steering wheel, reminded that the DVLA (the government dept responsible for all matters automotive) still have not given me the go-ahead to drive.
I have no idea if driving would be a challenge for me yet. I suspect not. Mostly it is brain stem stuff and automatic, but perhaps my still-addled attention machinery might pose some level of risk. Hard to say until I try and until I get the letter from their medical panel, I suppose I can't try.

So, I sit in my van and I potter. I make a new cupboard with the remainder of the ancient planks and admire the beauty of the woodgrain. And the rain falls. And I Imagine it is sea-rain, driven off the Atlantic after a long day's paddling about in my kayak.

My Sit-on-Top Kayak. My favourite toy, by the sea at Putsborough

 When I got my van, it was a ex-railway crew-van, with all manner of industrial gadgetry inside. It all had to come out. And gradually, I have built it into a comfortable mobile beach cabin and lodgings without spending any significant cash on doing so (except for the £450 I got from the sale of the van's Predecessor which the kids affectionately named "Venus" after an astronomical event a few years ago - it is a Transit, you see).

But given my recent gift of New Perspective, I am eager to rejoin life. There are things I am impatient to do, like get traveling and "doing stuff!". There are beautiful woodlands to explore.

Lower Woods, Inglestone Common, Gloucestershire.

 There are distant, historical towns to visit, where we can walk at twilight and perhaps eat dinner in some rustic restaurant where they only seem to serve dishes containing duck or goose.

There are moody sunsets to be watched as they fade to dark, when we can retreat inside the van, draw the curtains, make some cocoa and read the papers before going to sleep, with the rain pit-pattering reassuringly on the roof, as we drift off cocooned snugly in warmth and comfort.

And in the morning, after a hearty breakfast, the rain will have stopped

there will be a walk along the beach and the space will get into my head and all will be mellow and happy.
But first I have to get back to full health and to be allowed to drive.
It won't be long. And then, there is Stuff to Do and I am going to jolly well do it! You just watch me!