Let the Adventures Begin Again

I thought our first blog of the trip was going to be super boring, a rant about how unhappy we are to have left home and how difficult it is to adjust to meaningless wandering with no schedule again. I should have known better. With nine dogs to keep things interesting, including four very naughty puppies, how could our first day be anything but an adventure?

Today’s adventure took place in Belgium, at a rest stop near Brussels. Using our trusty European Truck Stop app, Travis was able to find a place that had multiple reviews stating an open gate that would lead to a big free area where we could run the dogs off leash for a few hours. As usual, the information was reliable and the dogs spent a happy twenty minutes or so running around and doing their business while Trav caught up with his girlfriend Georgia and I moped around feeling irritable. Eventually, we figured it was time for feeding, since we’d been on the road all morning and had made everyone skip breakfast since it was too busy at the truck stop we spent the night at to safely have all the dogs out at once. Everyone seemed calm, the area seemed secure, so Trav went back to the caravan to get feeds and I stayed to watch the hooligans.

Within minutes, Zima, typically, decided to lead her brothers on a scouting expedition through the wooded areas surrounding our clearing. I followed at first, calling half heartedly to them and glancing back now and again to be sure the older dogs were with me. After getting caught in a couple of pricker bushes, I stopped and realised that Nibble had remained where she was at the gate, intently watching for Travis’s return. Nervous about leaving her where I couldn’t see her when the general public could wander in at any time, I backtracked, reasoning that the puppies wouldn’t get far by the time Travis returned with food, and hungry as they were bound to be, they’d return quickly at the sound of a shaken food bowl… this method worked at home when they wandered out of eyesight after all.

I confidently shook a food bowl and called for Zima and Dobbie a few times, then waited without concern to see the four of them flying towards me, eager for their late breakfast. After a minute or two, I took a few steps towards where I’d last seen their white tipped tails and shook the bowl a little more ferociously, adding in Slade and Balkan’s names and a slightly panicked “PUPPIES,” which we’d used to round them up their entire lives. The adults chowed down while I walked deeper into the woods, and the thorny branches now springing up everywhere. I tried to remind myself that there wasn’t really anywhere for them to get off too, and that they had probably just wandered slightly out of hearing. Travis went in the opposite direction while I started shaking the food bowl constantly and we both called, increasingly desperate and irritated, for our brats. Three or four minutes later, we regrouped where the older dogs had finished eating and agreed that he would take them back to the caravan, change into pants to protect himself from the thorns, while I headed out into the cornfields just behind the woods. Travis’s annoyance was plain, he hadn’t wanted to let them all off at once anyways, and I was trying to cover my concern with a airy comment about how they’d surely be back as soon as we went looking for them properly.

I followed the trail the puppies had created in the tall grass until I reached the cornfield. There was no sign of them anywhere, and only the rustling of the cornstalks breaking up a rather deafening silence. Even the sounds of the nearby highways were muffled in all that corn, and I wished I’d brought Wasi along to keep me company. I wandered back and forth for a few minutes, trying to make a game out of my panic by pretending I was a tracker of old. I scanned the ground for paw prints, confident that four still clumsy puppies would have left an easily followable trail in the deep, impressionable dirt. It took me a few minutes, but I did eventually stumble on a paw print that clearly belonged to a Slade or Balkan. Success, I thought, check me out, tracker extraordinaire! It bothered me a little that there was only one clear print, and none of the jumble of tracks you’d expect from four dogs running together. But I followed the prints I could see every few feet, shaking that food bowl, confident I would stumble onto them at any minute.

Twenty minutes later, with scratches covering every body part, and an itch spreading across my legs and arms from god knows what was on all those thorns and stickers, I broke free of the corn field to a clear walking path. A field of cows were to my right, with an open meadow to my left before it turned in to what appeared to be a Christmas tree farm. The paw prints I’d been following were long gone and after so long struggling along the edge of the cornfield, I was able to orient myself only because the highway was now directly in front of me. The puppies were no where to be seen. I struggled to hold back tears and to silence the berating voice in my head that was reminding me that if they were gone, it was my fault. I spotted our truck stop back to my right and after a few more shakes of the bowl and desperate calls of “PUPPIES,” I headed back. I was trying to reassure myself that they were all microchipped, all had dog tags with Travis’s phone number and our social media tag line, hell they even still had their haltis on so someone would pick them up and get in touch. We’d planned to spend the night there anyways so surely they’d either be found or wander back in at some point in the next few hours.

I braced myself to walk back into the thorns edging the cornfield, wondering if this rest stop had a shower because I was going to need one to wash off all the sweat and whatever poison those prickers had got me with. I could feel blood dripping from the scratches on my legs and sighed at the thought of a pair of my favourite pants gone. It’s crazy what you think about in a crisis isn’t it? About 100 yards along the field, I ran across the start of fencing the truck stop was on the other side of. I glanced up at some trash cans and saw a flash of white… Zima and all three of her brothers were happily digging through what they could reach on the ground. She must have smelled me, because before I could say anything, she looked over and let out a happy bark. All four of them bounced over to the fence line, tails wagging, clearly pleased with themselves and not the least bit stressed from their adventures. They were lucky a fence was between us, because I was torn between overwhelming relief and a very strong desire to beat the lot of them. In the end I just stared for a minute while I took ten deep breaths before shaking the bowl again so they’d follow me and starting along the fence line towards the gate. I had to come off the fence for a while to fight my way back through to the clearing, and I ran into Travis, who promptly jumped over the barbed wire surrounding the corn and went off to round them up. It took me another three or four minutes to fight through the thorns and stickers, and, helpful bitch (literally and figuratively) that she is, Zima reappeared a minute or so in to lead me out… easy for her to do since she could duck under the majority of what was holding me back.

If you’re wondering, there’s no point in scolding them since they had, after all, returned. So we fed them, made a lot of comments to each other about how they’re never coming off their leashes ever again, took stock of our injuries and took them back to the caravan for water and their crate. Exhausted, mentally and physically form the ordeal, I sat down on the sidewalk and was promptly surrounded by happy, not the least bit apologetic puppies. Zima climbed in my lap for a snuggle and I started to laugh… while we definitely will not be repeating this experience (I hope), at least it had forced me to think about something other then missing home. You can always count on the Travelling Menagerie for an adventure!

Six Month Reflection

It’s almost impossible to believe that today marks six full months of travel. If you had told me this time last year that I would be in Bulgaria, having been on the road for 26 weeks, been through 15 countries, seen countless incredible sights, made so many wonderful friends, and managed to add seven more dogs to my Menagerie (oops), I would have rolled my eyes and told you you were crazier then I am, and that’s saying something. Yet here I sit, tucked in the little caravan that has been my home for the last six months, and I have done all of those things and more. It’s weird to contemplate how different my life is then I thought it would be a year ago, and more, to really grasp how I feel about the changes.

I “knew” travelling with all my animals around Europe with no plan and little money was going to be challenging. Everyone knew that. But I had no idea just how plain hard it would be. I could never have anticipated the stress involved with not being able to afford campsites, food, gas, and vet care. I couldn’t have known how often we would be coasting in to a truck stop on the last fumes of gas, or what it would be like to not be able to find any rest stops as the last rays of sun were setting behind yet another mountain. When we lost phone service and reliable WiFi we faced a generational challenge that I know our parents would have laughed at… but you can’t find truck stops on a map!!

The reality of six large dogs and five cats cooped up in a tiny caravan and car is actually brutal… there is nothing fun or exciting about it. It’s dirty, hairy, smelly, and crowded. No amount of vacuuming or wiping down can keep the sheer volume of animal at bay. On the days when there’s no place for off leash walking, the dogs pick fights with each other and the cats to work off energy. Or they bark incessantly until your head wants to explode and you can’t think straight.

I’ve struggled with nightmares and insomnia for years due to PTSD, but on this trip sleep has become a distant memory. The few hours I do catch are often interrupted by high beams at truck stops, drunks throwing up in front of the caravan, or dogs and cats simply stepping all over me in an effort to find a place to lay down. And the fact that I haven’t had any sleep doesn’t stop the fact that they all want breakfast, potty breaks, and walks at the crack of dawn. There’s no option to just throw the door open and let them run around the yard for a bit like back home… it requires fully getting up, getting dressed, putting on leashes, yelling for everyone to shut up and sit down so you can do all those things, and then being dragged out the door and across a parking lot to the nearest grass so the business can get underway. This is rain or shine, snow or blazing heat, day and night. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve closed my eyes and wished myself back to England in my great big house with my huge fenced garden and a husband to lean on when it gets to be too much for me. That’s not an option out here on the road so we just get on with it, albeit with plenty of griping and swearing at the animals and at each other when Trav and I have reached the end of our ropes.

Other challenges are more unexpected. Laundry has been our biggest shock. Laundromats such as we have back in the States are not a thing through much of Europe, especially not in small town, rural Europe where we spend the vast majority of our time. We can go a month between finding laundry options and while I have enough clothes to get through it, poor Travis suffers. More, the bedding suffers. Usually I would change sheets once a week at minimum… I’m used to hair but this is a whole different ball game and it drives me crazy. Showering is another issue. In countries with good truck stops we did okay, but when we entered the Balkans, things weren’t so easy. Here in Bulgaria we have access to a house and shower, except it’s winter time, and the pipes freeze regularly. We’ve gotten real good at washing by baby wipes or showering in 60 seconds when there’s enough hot water to do so. They claim that not washing your hair too often is actually good for it… well mine is being put to the ultimate test; I’m not sure I’m impressed.

The reality of life on the road is that there isn’t a lot of what you see in the photos or on those travel shows. We sight see once in a blue moon and in some counties have missed the best sights altogether because they aren’t practical with dogs in tow. It’s not one big adventure day to the next; most of the time it’s just trying to stretch the last few dollars to feed us all until next month’s pay check and be able to afford the gas to get us to the next country or safe place. It’s wondering how to cook food with no stove and no place to start a fire, and how to stay warm with no electricity when the temperatures drop below zero (the animals are real helpful there)! It’s never knowing where we are or where we’re going next, and often not being able to read the signs that are directing us there. It’s a lot of communication by hand and Google translate and often knowing that neither party has a clue what’s been said. It’s hard and it’s depressing and it’s frustrating and it’s often lonely even with each other and the animals for company.

But all that being said, I wouldn’t take back a single moment of the last six months. We maybe be living rough, we may be taking the longer, tougher road, but damn are we living life to the fullest. No one can say that we haven’t taken the bit in our teeth and ran with it.

I’ve bathed in a lake in Denmark and stood on the spot where two seas meet. I’ve traversed most of Poland in an attempt to enter the Ukraine (which admittedly failed). But I’ve walked the castle in Krakow and gazed through the gates of Auschwitz. I’ve ridden native horses in the Czech Republic and watched traditional song and dance at one of their local village fairs. We made friends there, from both the Czech and from all the way from China. In Austria we may have seen some of the worst of life, but we also saw some of the best. I drove Standardbred racehorses and summitted my first mountains. I rode in ski lifts with my service dogs and danced on the streets of Hallstatt with Wasi. I saw Vienna through my family’s eyes, rediscovered Austria’s beauty through them when it had all gone a bit sour. The friends we made it Austria will be ones we keep for life: we’ve revisited some already and have others coming to see us next month! I finally made it to Italy, and the magic of Venice. There’s more to discover there but at least I got a taste. A dear friend joined us there and made it all the more special.

Entering the Balkans, we had no expectations, no ideas of what life would be like here. In Croatia we were introduced to Rakia (ewww by the way), perfect beaches and the friendliest people around. Bosnia and Herzegovina stole my heart with its unexpected charm and harsh mountain beauty. There I rode horses free across lands littered with the ruins of ancient people’s. The recent tragedy only made the people’s determination to move forward all the more inspiring. We lived in a town that had been at the center of the war, where houses still bore the bullet holes and bombed out craters of the violence. Our hosts there has experienced the war first hand, one on the front lines, another having to give up his eight month old daughter to keep her safe. The shadows of what they lived through was often still visible in their eyes and their hard exterior, though when you got to know them, they were people just like us who wanted peace and prosperity just like people everywhere. They shared their stories and it was impossible not to feel their pain. It was humbling and frightening and inspiring all at once.

Our time in Serbia was too short but we reunited with one of the friends we made in Austria and he shared life there with us. We met his family, had dinner made by his grandmother (amazing by the way). We helped move a (very large) pig and played with some piglets. Our friend shared his family’a story with us, how life had improved for them but there was still more they hoped to do with the house. We talked about the protests in Belgrade and how politics are the same no matter where you are in the world. And again it was brought home to us how very alike people are, no matter where they may be… we’re really all the same at heart.

Now we’re in Bulgaria. In the last six months we’ve rescued two dogs and successfully rehomed one. The second dog has a home waiting for her when she weans her puppies. Somehow I’m once again raising a litter of six puppies born on my bed, nearly seven years exactly since my Nefsi was born. I was just divorced then too; how’s that for life coming full circle? My own dogs and cats are happy and healthy. Wasi will celebrate his one year birthday tomorrow; he will have spent exactly half his life living on the road. That’s one well travelled pup! We lost our precious Sami but we’ve never forgotten her, not even for a moment… she’s still apart of our Menagerie in spirit.

I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know where we will go when our time in Bulgaria is up, or how we will get there. Outside factors have made life all the more difficult right now; especially financially, but I imagine we will get through it. I long to return to England, to my horses, my friends, my life there, but I know it’s not possible right now. There’s so much more to see, so much more to do, and we’ve finally gotten the hang of this life on the road so I suppose we should take advantage; lord knows I’ll never do a trip quite this way again! But it’s certainly been one hell of an adventure so far, and I’m glad it’s not over yet!

DOG RESCUE: Gabrova

As most of our followers already know, we were only a few days free of Kova before our second rescue dog entered the picture. Upon arriving in Bulgaria and meeting our hostess Dee, it quickly became clear that we had one major thing in common: animals. Specifically, animal rescue. Less than a week after we arrived there, we were asked by Dee and her friend Krissy if we would be willing to step in and save a street dog that had been running around the village for a few weeks.

My instinct at the request was initially to say no. First of all, we’d already seen what having a seventh dog along was like with our travels, and it was exhausting. Though we hoped to stay in Bulgaria for a few months, I was concerned that if the host arrangement didn’t work out, we’d be stuck with another dog on the road. Second, the dog in question didn’t meet the criteria Travis and I had agreed to when we acknowledged we were willing to rescue animals on this trip; namely, she was not starving nor was she in what we would consider crisis since a couple locals were feeding her twice a day. So I was reluctant to say the least.

Two things convinced me to change my mind. The first was the news that the Kmet (the village mayor), who hates dogs, had decided the dog in question was a nuisance and had arranged to have her picked up by local animal control and transport her to the shelter. On the surface, this may seem like a positive option for a dog, it gets them off the streets at least. But animal shelters in Bulgaria aren’t like animal shelters elsewhere… the reality was that this was a death sentence for the dog. The second was the first picture of the dog I saw. It was, for a moment, like looking at a ghost.

Nearly a decade ago, I rescued a puppy in a national park in Kentucky. I named him Zilpo after the park we found him in. He was one of the best dogs I’ve ever had, and ultimately, he lived his life out with Travis’s family after I joined the Air Force. We lost Zilpo only a few months ago, far too early. When I saw this dog’s pictures, it was like looking in to Zilpo’s sweet face again: I couldn’t say no.

We went to pick her up on a Saturday night. She was waiting with Krissy in front of the apartment complex, and she came straight to me, shy but sweet. In the first glance, I once again balked… she was very clearly very pregnant. To be honest, in that moment I almost backed out. Seven dogs temporarily is one thing; but puppies? In my tiny caravan? And an intact female who would not be able to be spayed promptly with my intact Wasi who is quickly becoming very aware he still has his balls? It was a recipe for disaster. In the end though, it was the very fact that she was pregnant that swayed me to follow through: if the shelter option has been a likely death sentence before, it was a 100% certainty she, and her puppies, would be dead within the day if we sent her there now.

I named our new rescue Gabrova on the five minute ride back up the hill, for the region of Bulgaria we are in. I call her Gabbie. She spent the first night in the car since it was too dark to try a pack introduction. I barely slept that night, worrying she was too cold and too pregnant. The next morning I woke up, put her on a leash, and brought her in to the caravan. It was a risky introduction, completely unlike me. But some instinct told me that it would be okay with this dog.

And it was. Gabbie was the perfect mix of submissive and stand her own ground. My other dogs took to her like she’d always been a part of the pack. Only Wasi was initially a problem, because he fell head over heels and abused her constantly. She put him firmly in his place until he got his hormones under control. The other dogs barely seemed to notice she was there. Even Moomkin liked her straight off.

Over the next few weeks, Gabbie stole my heart. She is sweet, faithful, silly, and just plain wonderful. In all my years of animal rescue, only Syn has been a foster failure. I am very good at rehoming the animals I take on. With Gabbie, it was a daily struggle to even consider finding her a new home. She just… fit. So you can imagine my heart break when the perfect family came forward for her. I was torn completely in two. I didn’t need a seventh dog by any means, but I love Gabbie, fully and completely, in a way I rarely do even with my own dogs. It took all my common sense, and the fact that it truly is the absolutely perfect family to convince me to commit to letting her go.

Gabbie’s new family is waiting patiently for her in Scotland. They keep in touch and are already as in love with her as I am. I know she will be happy there and that I made the right decision. I’m trying to savour every moment I have with her now, since I know one day soon I will have to give her up. In the meantime, I’m not only getting to love Gabbie, but I’m also getting to love the six healthy puppies she gave birth to on the night of January 2, into the early hours of January 3. Sadly, I only had 48 hours with tiny puppy number seven, Zagora, who was just too small for this great big world… but at least I got that with her.

To bring this story full circle, one of Gabbie’s puppies will be returning back to the States with Travis to live with his family there… because I am 100% positive that Zilpo was born again in this litter, and we’re getting our very own version of A Dog’s Tale. It’s a fitting link in a rescue tale that almost didn’t happen because she didn’t “fit the criteria.” Gabbie brought us new life in more ways then one, we will always be thankful.

Happy New Year

I know I’m late and that I’ve been absent for a few weeks. Suffice to say, when I can’t get my happy pills, just waking up in the morning and dealing with my dogs tends to be all I can handle in a day. That and the fact that my thoughts always turn rather morose during those withdrawal episodes kept me from wanting to write and bring everyone down with me. But I’m happy to report that good old Bulgaria has an unlimited supply of Zoloft and I have stocked up for the foreseeable future and after about a week back on them, I’m feeling much more myself again!

The last few weeks have been mostly quiet to be honest, so I haven’t missed much. We’re nicely settled in to our routine here in Gabrovo, though admittedly that routine has including a rather hermit-like existence for myself as I’ve been on puppy watch! I’ll go in to more details on her own post, but suffice to say that we have our second rescue dog of the trip, along with the seven adorable puppies she gave birth to yesterday. I know, what in the hell were we thinking. Stay tuned!

Our holidays here in Bulgaria were wonderful, aided by the fact that our hostess has already become more family then friend. We were included on all the festivities, and they even bought us some Christmas gifts. I managed to watch White Christmas on Christmas Eve, my personal tradition, and made everyone some American chocolate chip cookies.

Christmas morning Travis whipped up some an awesome American breakfast (we shared lots of home with our friends this holiday!) of pancakes, eggs, and bacon and of course, mimosas! I engaged in a game of monopoly with Sky, which I was obviously winning before we gave up. The kids were thrilled with their presents and I was so touched when we got ours. We also spent lots of time FaceTiming back with our own families back home, and I admit to more then a touch of homesickness.

The week between Christmas and New Years was marked by warmer temperatures and mostly by me complaining about the overwhelming amount of mud in the caravan. I can deal with a fairly high degree of mess/dirt, obviously, or I wouldn’t be able to travel like this with my animals, but even I have my limits. Mud, especially of this heavy, clay variety that sticks to everything and doesn’t easily brush or vacuum off is enough to make me break out into a full blown panic attack, which I did multiple times. Thankfully, Nefsi may be retired from public access work but he’s still on point at home and he was able to bring me around before I lost my mind. Wasi is doing his best but his idea of disruption is currently to launch himself in to my arms and slather me with slobber… a would be effective tactic except I hate dog kisses and it makes me even more strung out. We’re working on it, he will get there.

For New Years, Dee and I struggled to stay awake until midnight and ended up cuddled up in her bed with six dogs and who knows how many cats about two hours out. However, thanks to Wasi’s insistence that he could also fit (he couldn’t) and his repeated attempts to do so (I still have the bruises), we weren’t able to succumb to sleep before the year changed. We rang it in with sparkles and lots of noise and then hightailed it to bed.

Now we’re a few days in to 2019 and I’m taking a moment to look back over the last year. It’s been a long one, with some incredible highs and some seriously low lows. I want to say the ups outweighed the downs but honestly, I think it probably came out pretty even. All things considered, that’s better then expected so I’ll take it. I do know that I’ve had one incredible experience after another this year, from filling a lifelong dream of riding racehorses in Newmarket, England to taking the leap and embarking on this insane tour of Europe with my furry family in tow. No one can say that I’ve let PTSD take life away from me, that’s for sure, and since that’s my daily goal, I’m satisfied. This coming year I’m hoping to find a bit of the opposite of what I found this year: less questions and more answers, less drama and more peace, less restlessness and more stability… most of all, though, what I’d like to find in 2019 is a home to call my own, where I can reunite my horses, safely house my dogs and cats, and never have to worry about losing it all again. So here’s to that!

P.S. I also want a really good vacuum this year… my life in the caravan would be so different with a really good vacuum 😂!

Pet Food

I feel like I’ve found a home here in Bulgaria, after only 24 hours. Our hostess, Dee, is basically me in 20 more years… she also has six dogs, countless cats, and she moved to Bulgaria so she could have horses again. Her lifestyle is simple and uncomplicated and revolves around her son and her animals. This is the life I want to have, one where it doesn’t really matter how dirty my floors are because I’m not inside enough to notice.

We spent the day watching the dogs enjoy their freedom here for a few hours before we embarked on an adventure to find pet food. Feeding the animals has easily been one of the most challenging parts of our trip. In England, my dogs were fed a custom dog food made specifically for each of them individually. Six different bags were delivered every month, along with their cups already measured to serving size. The dogs had beautiful coats, normal bowel movements, and were happy and healthy. My cats were on Royal Cabin Ragdoll, also a custom made food for the breed.

For the first month of travel we had stocked up enough of their custom food that we had no issues with feeding. We knew we’d have to switch eventually, but figured we wouldn’t have too many issues finding a new, quality food. How wrong we were. Pet food is different in every country, and the prices vary from super cheap to insanely pricey. We’re on a budget obviously, so were looking for decent quality without breaking the bank.

We learned quickly that switching dog foods was the fastest way to dogs with constantly upset stomachs. No matter how hard we tried, we often couldn’t find the same brand to keep the food consistent. In fact, there are only two brands that we can find with absolute surety no matter where we are: Royal Canin and Pedigree. Now I love Royal Canin, but the pricing is often crippling, especially because usually it’s found at a vet’s office. Moreover, finding consistency within the brand has been challenging, and finding the Ragdoll feed specifically has been impossible. We went a few rounds with it early on, but we ended up with more upset stomachs and a screaming bank account.

After nearly three months, I had to admit defeat. Pedigree is everywhere, they sell the exact same type in all countries, they have a puppy food for Wasi, and the price doesn’t break the bank. I wince every time I feed, because I’m a pet food snob and would never have imagined feeding my precious animals such a low quality food. But with consistency has come calm tummies and much happier dogs. The cats have to settle for Whiskas, another brand that sells everywhere in the world apparently. They’re less impressed with their lot then the dogs, but they eat it so that’s something.

Even though these two brands are sold everywhere, normal people don’t have six large dogs to feed, and finding the big bags is always hard. We spent over three hours this afternoon, driving from pet store to pet store trying to track down the big bags so we wouldn’t have to buy a million smaller ones (one 15 kg bag lasts us about 5 days, imagine how many small bags we’d need). Eventually, we stumbled on a store that had two bags of adult, one bag of puppy, and lots of Whiskas for the cats. The store has agreed to stock those bags for us every two weeks while we are here, so score for having a regular supply! I wonder if we can talk Pedigree and Whiskas in to sponsoring us, we could be the spokesperson for them literally around the world at this point!

Country 15

Short post.

We have made it safely to Bulgaria, our 15th country of the trip! The border crossing from Serbia to here was the easiest we’ve encountered so far, mostly just a smile and wave after stamping our passports.

Our hosts are lovely, a British lady and her young son who are living the dream life here in Bulgaria with their dogs, cats, and horses (they have as many as we do)! I already feel super comfortable here, as these are definitely my kind of people. There’s another Brit and her two daughters living nearby; its made me a bit homesick hearing their accents and wishing for England.

Oddly, I’ve found the three kids we’ve met to be very entertaining. I’m not a kid person, as anyone who knows me is aware, and usually I tolerate children rather then enjoy their company. Maybe it’s just the British accent that has me so charmed but I was genuinely enjoying talking with them and learning about their lives here. It helps that they range from ages 8 to 11, the age group that I generally find to be the most tolerable. It will be interesting to spend more time with them.

It’s FREEZING here, the coldest weather we’ve encountered so far that we’ve had to sleep in without heat of some kind. Tomorrow we will sort that aspect out, as there is no way I can sleep in the caravan without a heat source other then the dogs and cats as the temperatures dip the deeper in to winter we get! But for tonight, I’m going to force all five cats to sleep with me and snuggle the dogs as close as I can. Wish us luck we survive till tomorrow!