After a bit of a manic week, it’s time for some downtime. A day off earlier in the week took us home to MOT my trusted steed, the Ford Focus. Despite hardly being used this year and slowly getting dirtier and dirtier the old faithful passed with flying colours. We’ve had the Focus from new, almost 11 years ago. It’s one of those cars, touch wood, that’s solid and fits like a pair of comfy old slippers. So, after a 24 hour whistle stop home, we headed back to the caravan and work. Working a 46 hour week our lie ins are now almost non existent. After having to get up early for the MOT, that was our last chance of a lazy morning till the weekend, a week of gardening, bin runs, toilet cleaning and welcoming new arrivals, planting hanging baskets, hanging artwork, attempting to fix the heating and spending time with new friends, come Friday night and we’re well and truly shattered.
With threats of needing to go food shopping after our Friday shift, we fall out of work and into our compound, kicking off our steel toe caps and sinking into our chairs in the awning.
The rain continues to thunder on the canvas roof, after last week’s cheeky bit of sunshine, rain has taken up residence once again in the New Forest. With no food in for tea, we really haven’t got the energy to battle the Friday evening rush hour traffic into Christchurch for our weekly supplies. So it’s a mish mash tea, fridge gravel, anything that’s in that needs eating all thrown together. Food shopping can wait till tomorrow morning. Whilst vegetables on their last legs sizzle slowly in the wok, pasta bubbles in the pan, I climb into my pyjamas. It’s not yet 6pm but it feels so good wearing comfy clothes. One thing we’ve noticed since starting the job, we hardly wear our own clothes. We probably survive on about two outfits. We are either in our uniform or our comfies, or as one Warden told us, “You’re either in your boots or in your bed.”
Tea snaffled, pots washed, feet up, time to crack open the prosecco, another gift from a lovely friend. Life is good.