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Happy Birthday Tom

We’re waiting to receive a letter that was sent by one of the Courts to our house that’s not our home. The letter has been forwarded to us, at our current location, but La Poste doesn’t hurry where forwarded mail is concerned. So, this is one of those times when patience is of the essence.

Today, rather than updating by posting much of a sameness, I’m dedicating this post to my wonderful husband.

Tom turned 66 years old today, it is his sixth birthday in France, his fifth birthday as a hobo in France. Since 2007, Tom hasn’t celebrated two birthdays in the same house. In fact, he hasn’t celebrated two birthdays in the same French Department! Two of Tom’s last five birthdays were celebrated in our tent, one of his birthdays was spent in our ‘old girl’, the car, just driving!

Thank you, Tom, for always getting us from A to B during our travels, no matter how far we need to go. You have always enjoyed driving and, by golly, that is just as well!

Thank you for your persistence and courage, we have never once heard you say you couldn’t go on, even if you have thought those words and remained silent. There have been far too many times when we thought we might lose you. You have suffered dreadfully through the pain of gangrene, amputations, and severe chest infections associated with emphysema. But, you never complain.

Thank you for your love, care, and your stalwart support when I or one of the lads has been below par. Despite your vulnerability and your breathing difficulties, you have never complained about the long driving hours, or about searching for firewood with your foot swathed in gauze and bandage, or battling the sometimes bone-chilling winter cold, the miserable damp, the biting insects that love our tent and our blood!

Thank you for your humour, dry, sometimes not quite fitting the topic, often a one-off comment that throws us into howls of laughter and huge rolling tears of mirth! How do you always manage to do that when we’re at our lowest ebb?

Thank you for never comparing how comfortable we were in our house in the UK with how uncomfortable and unsettled we are in France. Comfort, of course, is not just about materialism and physical well-being, it’s also about peace of mind

Thank you for loving this beautiful country as much as we do, and for surviving our sometimes cruel lifestyle. Next year, Tom, we hope your birthday will be spent in our own home, your castle.

Many happy returns, sweetheart, you are a husband, father and grandfather in billions. We love, cherish and appreciate you more than words could ever say.

Now, we promised you a birthday treat, a decent square meal. We have the oxos in their square silver foil coats, 2 litres of bottled water, the hobo stove and a new bottle of camping gas. There’s an Aire de repos just 10kms down the road – let’s go! 😉

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Rogues, Thieves And Hobos!

Christmas 2011 and the New Year period of 2012 were settled times for us. After the rather nasty Storm Joachim had ploughed its way through France and into Germany, wreaking havoc along its entire path, we were able to clear Sue’s garden of minor debris from the trees, and we headed for the beach at Saint-Georges-de-Didonne. Although he was still plagued by night time coughing, and unable to walk further than 100m without stopping to rest, Tom was feeling, and looking, much better; driving short distances presented as no problem for him. However, little did we know, but it was only a brief respite.

Nearly every day, coat pockets filled with ‘doggy poop bags’, we would pile into the car – Tchica sitting regally in the back seat with the lads, Elmo in the boot after we had removed all the furnishings. Tchica is one of the most laid-back RottieX bitches we have ever met, in fact, she and another Rottie, Amber, Sue and Rick’s bitch, are up there on a pedestal for us! Although, we have been very lucky, Alf the hound in the Tarn et Garonne, Leah and Susie in Les Eyzies, Forest and Hector in Brittany, there’s very little between them all where good, gentle character and obedience are concerned; each of them has a special place in our hearts.

Elmo, though, must be the naughtiest, most wilful, exceptionally mischievous dog of all time, and we love him to bits!

I nicknamed Elmo ‘El Nino’, after the Peruvian translation for ‘the naughty boy’, a weather cycle that creates all manner of problems around the world, when we first looked after him and Tchica during the summer of 2011! That’s what Elmo is, a constant series of whirlwinds and hurricanes that simply don’t dissipate until he falls asleep, exhausted, each evening! He is an absolute rogue of the first degree, a rascal that oozes unconditional love and affection for all man- and woman-kind! Elmo is the dog that all children should have as a play-pal during their early years, particularly. I expect readers get the picture by now, Elmo is the dog we would have loved to be a much-loved part of our family unit, if only circumstances had been different for us.

During our years as hobos, there have been many other pets that we have met, cared for, loved, and that have loved us in return. One of those pets was a very large, overweight, black Sam. We had been recommended to young Sam’s owners as ‘excellent sitters who enjoy walking dogs’. Absolutely correct! So, during the summer of 2009, we were called on to look after Sam in the Dordogne, and to exercise him until he attained the sleek shape he needed to be to live a long, healthy life. In the six weeks I was with Sam, my menfolk were ‘sitting’ in different regions in France, we walked an average of 12kms to 15kms each day. Sam lost weight, so did I! But, we were both much healthier for that weight loss and muscle toning. End result, a happy, bouncy Sam, and two happy owners who arrived to remove Sam to their new home in the UK, and to continue with his exercise regime.

Sadly, some two years later, and long after our son had painted and decorated a lot of that same property in the Dordogne, unpaid, in return for the owners putting a roof over our heads for a period of 5 weeks during the winter of 2009/2010, one of Sam’s owners emailed me to ask if we had ‘removed tools from the property, forgetting to let him know’! In other words, had we stolen the tools, including a rather large strimmer! I still have the email, and my emailed response, in which I reminded him that our ‘old girl’ aka our Citroen, could not carry his ‘missing tools’, we always have a car that is filled to capacity with all our worldly hobo goods! I also informed the guy that we had been hundreds of kilometres away from his French property when his tools had, allegedly, been taken – a fact I could prove. Additionally, I reminded him that he and his family, and their friends, had spent holiday periods in the property since we had last been there, I have the chatty emails letting us know when they were in France with Sam.

Pete, you know who you are, we are still waiting for your apology. We are hobos, not by choice or deliberate design, but through circumstances that are beyond our control. We are not, never have been, never will be, thieves.

 

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