April to June 2023
This piece gathers a few short posts from spring 2023. Work had taken over. Health had improved. Money was still tight. Then, somehow, we made it across the Channel and gave Karta a few days in Germany.
Back to the blog
By the end of April, I had to admit that the blog had gone quiet.
The reason was simple enough.
Work.
The HGV job had taken over more of my life than expected. Driving grain lorries, learning routes, dealing with farms, mills, ports, traffic and early starts left less room for writing than I wanted.
I missed it.
Not writing for a while always leaves me feeling slightly disconnected from myself. This blog has never been only a blog. It has been a notebook, a pressure valve, a record of family life, and a place to say the things that do not fit neatly anywhere else.
So I made the usual promise.
Write more often.
At least once a week, if possible.
The promise was not really for anyone else.
It was for me.
What a difference a year makes
A year earlier, things had looked very different.
I was overweight.
My blood pressure was far too high.
I had become type 2 diabetic.
My cholesterol was heading the wrong way.
The trinity had arrived and frightened me into action.
By spring 2023, the picture had changed.
I had lost weight. I had changed how I ate. I had used fasting, low-carbohydrate meals, walking and a lot of stubbornness to pull myself back from the edge.
I looked better.
I felt better.
Most of all, I felt as if I had done something real.
Not another plan.
Not another reset post.
Not another promise to begin tomorrow.
Actual change.
That mattered.
Nürburgring or bust
Then came the Germany idea.
I wanted to arrange a trip to the Nürburgring with Rhona and Karta.
Karta needed something.
He had seemed stuck for a while, and I wanted to give him a proper experience. Something away from routine. Something with cars, noise, travel and a bit of wonder.
The problem, as usual, was money.
Crossing the Channel with the car was expensive. Hotels were expensive. Fuel was expensive. Food was expensive. Every part of the plan seemed to need money we did not really have spare.
So I did what I usually do.
I started devising a plan.
Sell a few things.
Trim a few costs.
Keep the trip short.
Make it work somehow.
It was not sensible in the strictest financial sense.
But not every important thing is sensible.
Sometimes a family needs a small adventure.
We made it
And somehow, we made it to Germany.
Only for a few days, but that was enough.
We visited Motorworld in Cologne, stayed on the city's eastern side, and found a few decent meals along the way. Our food plans took a slight hit because most supermarkets were closed for the holiday weekend, but that was hardly a disaster.
The main event was still ahead.
One evening, we drove out to Adenau and Nürburg.
The Nürburgring.
The Green Hell.
For Karta, it was something special. He loves cars, and the place delivered exactly what he needed. High-performance machinery everywhere. Cars heading to and from the circuit. That particular atmosphere you only get around places where history, danger, and noise are baked in.
For a while, he seemed ten years old again.
Excited.
Lit up.
Fully present.
That alone made the trip worthwhile.
After a few hours at the Ring, we returned to the hotel in Rösrath, slept properly, ate breakfast, and then went back to the track for a full day before heading home.
The trip was short.
It was not cheap.
It cost more than £300, which was a lot for us.
But it was worth it.
What comes next?
Of course, as soon as we got home, I started thinking about the next one.
That is how my brain works.
Germany had given me a glimpse of what future trips might look like. Car museums. Factory tours. Proper road trips through Europe. Porsche. Mercedes. BMW. The Ring again. Maybe even a broader tour centred on places that matter to us.
It would need planning.
Careful planning.
The sort that starts with money, time off work, ferry prices, fuel costs, hotels, and all the boring stuff that makes the good stuff possible.
In the meantime, there were other things on the calendar.
Goodwood Players Classic.
Festival of Speed.
Work.
Truck driving.
Bills.
Family life.
The usual mixture.
But Germany mattered.
Not because it was perfect.
Not because it was grand.
Because we made it happen.
After everything that had gone before, that felt like progress.
Until next time,
adieu.