112. Spain again

Conil de la Frontera, Cadiz, Spain

Made it to the bottom of Spain.

Uneventful trip with the Disco not missing a beat. I don't for a moment believe it has cured itself as EGR valves don't heal but it does give us time to consider our options for how to fix it.

Roman Driving

Detail from a painting by family friend,
Florence Atkins, painted at the time,
of my Mother and Grandmother
Glendhu Bay, NZ

Stopped for lunch on the way and ate in the caravan which my mother loved as that is what she used to do in the nineteen fifties, when she was a girl and they too had a big caravan. She sat smiling and reminiscing which was lovely.

Roman too was delighted as we were in the truck park and was very impressed with all the rigs, coming and going so we were treated to the sound effects of air brakes and starters, reversing beepers and big engines changing through hundreds of gears. I hadn't realised what a full-on job truck driving must be until Roman's extensive demonstration.

Again arrived late at the campsite, in the dark, after nine pm. Nothing was a problem for the security chappy, thanks to his good nature and Google translate which we both talked to and it translated smoothly (for once). 

My Mum's house is about fifty metres away which is ideal, particularly as an escape pod for her in the unlikely* case that things get heated in the Giantavan.

*Sarcasm alert. Today is Iris' turn for meltdowns. Everything is so unfair