“And so it goes.
From the cluttered, smoky, chickens, nettles,caravans and rusty old motors.Lumpy tracks and car catching brambles out to the small town and its black and white face by the side of the sea. Its cheery shop windows in the pouring rain.
My shopping basket full of good things.
My head tired and weary.
Looking forward to the comfort of hot china, steaming, in the cupped palms of my hands.
The driving, in the chilling rain, on winding tarmac, over wheel-caught toads and rabbits, through dark alleys carved through pines, with the fleeting glimpse of moody water.
Somewhere to make a base.
I don’t know.
Go to Germany – sell Millie.
Return and buy a better motor. Another taxi?? Call it Maxi, Max for short. And spend a year in Britain. Why not?
(No response from Survival International.)”