This is yet another update post that I am afraid I can promise will make for an entirely uninteresting read. Having only recently returned home from Devon, where I was tasked with the job of helping my maternal grandmother reduce her book collection following on from the death of my grandfather, I soon headed off again, visiting my paternal grandfather in Lincolnshire.These trips are due in part to my being about to leave the country for an extended period of time, but have more to do with the fact that I feel I have neglected to spend any alone time with my grandparents over the course of the past five years. We have never lived especially close to our relatives but lately all of our reunions have tended to coincide with deaths within the family, unfortunately. We have become a quintessential example of the nuclear family; only, instead of meeting for births, marriages and funerals — nobody seems to be in a particular rush to marry or procreate. I would hazard that our name is about to die off!
My grandfather moved to Lincolnshire fairly recently from nearby Northamptonshire. Prior to the move, the previous house had been a family home since my father started secondary school, so the move was emotional for more than just my grandfather. Similarly to my maternal grandmother, this move was brought about by the death of a grandparent and it saddens me to think about the slow progression of time. I don’t seem to be getting older for I am young enough that the march of years passes me by, but that isn’t true for all of Earth’s inhabitants.
My stay was brief but action packed. We drove around the Norfolk Wash and visited churches and friends’ houses as well as points of geographical and historical interest. There was a lazy trip around the local town and an evening out for dinner and drinks with some members of his girlfriends’ family. The rest of the time was spent discussing my imminent plan to walk along the coast of Spain, from Bilbao to Lisbon. Of all of my relatives, my grandfathers’ response to this has been the most encouraging — he is quite envious, and as such has taken on an interest in my adventure that far outstrips the interest of anyone else. He convinced me that I ought to take drawing materials, and ultimately this decision has lead me to realise that I would love to make a book chronicling the walk and the stories of those whom I meet along the way.
Three days have passed incredibly quickly, and I now find myself back in Cheshire writing this up with only a sixteen hour turnaround before I head to the Isle of Wight. Everything is freshly washed and packed, and I am in the process of finalising ferry times and finding the address of the couples’ house in which I am to stay for the coming week. I am briefed with the task of creating a website for them and their campsite but I have little idea of what shall follow on from this — ideally I would like to stick around and witness Cowes Week first hand before heading for Spain but I am open to any opportunities that come my way.