Let’s get the embarrassing bit out the way. I abandoned the last 2 days riding. Was an easy decision. It absolutely pissed it down on Friday night. Biblically. Whilst at the freak show (campsite pub) I had unwisely made the decision to let some air in my tent. Bad decision.

Also, whilst at the same ‘pub’ as if to prove everything I had just written in the previous post wrong, I meet Hajo and Marion. And to be honest, I’m not sure I’d even be writing now if it weren’t for them. Sure, meeting them made me abandon my open tent to go back to theirs for a nightcap. But also, I’d do that again a million times. What an amazing couple.

They were brilliant, lovely, and just the best of us all. I’m a wee bit emotional even writing this, as they did, literally, look after me.

They both work for IKEA Germany, and they love the company. Changes in that family (the ikea colleague one) have been for the worse and so, yesterday, as I had breakfast at their chalet (we’ll come back to that) Hajo was preparing to go and join the picket line. Power to the people as you all know I will always say.

Anyway. After a tough day on Thursday and the feeling of alienation at the site. And my post deriding it. These 2 (3, they have an amazing dog, ‘wooky’, too) show up.

They are keen to speak English and more than keen to remember their holidays in Scotland. And even more keen to take me back to their chalet and show me this:

I derided the folks that live on that campsite, and I stand by that in the main, but there is always an exception.

And this couple are, well, exceptional. So welcoming, so interesting, so vibrant. And, so kind. I went back to theirs, had a beer. As the heavens opened in a big way. At that moment I cared less. What an amazing end to a bad day. They insisted I come back in the morning before my ride, for breakfast. Easy decision.

When I got back to my tent, it wasn’t absolute disaster, but not far off.

I slept. But everything, except my clothes (not my riding ones I’d left out to ‘dry’) were wet. It didn’t stop pissing it down all night. And, as I packed my tent up in the pissing rain in the morning, I was broken.

I made my way to their chalet for breakfast. Thank God.

Before I write more. Something of them.

Hajo (Hansjorj) is a beautiful man, he’s one of the leaders (shop stewards) at the local IKEA. He’s a no nonsense man, just straight up beautiful. Marion is flamboyant, she’s an artist, also works at IKEA, and runs an art teaching business.

She draws, she paints with acrylics, and she is good. On the site, she recently took delivery of a caravan. I don’t use the word gypsy, but I guess we would call it that. She is so proud… it is her new art studio, and I loved getting to see it:

When I arrive at theirs at 08:00 the next morning. Hajo tuts, winks and nods as Marion explains to me the idiosyncrasies of their shower (which I feel, and don’t blame them, I had to have. I was drenched. The campsite shower block being about 15 metres away). He knows I know, but I listen intently. The dynamic between them just lovely and reminiscent of so many successful couples I have met.

Oh, I forgot Wooky. What a beautiful dog. I totally adored him. Not like my Hastings, but not far off it.

Breakfast, as you saw, was amazing. It was everything. Well…. Not quite, because they had made me a goody bag for my journey with lots of fruit and cookies and also a gift. I have a tear in my eye writing this. It was amazing. Sort of broke me. But being with them was the best. I hope I get to meet them again.

The weather was appalling. I was wet, my gear was wet, and as much as Marion wanted to drive me in her van, I knew I had to ride/

So I rode to the Netherlands. 10 miserable miles. And bought a ticket to Brussels. I’d had enough. And meeting Hajo and Marion, was, I. My mind a fitting end to my adventure.

It took me 4 trains to get to Brussels MIDI. Through some iconic (1) town. Guess which one? And that was that.

I’ll end this trip by saying this. And it’s not pretty.

A friend said, ‘fair play for putting myself out there’. Maybe that’s true…

Maybe getting away has just compounded my loneliness. I don’t want to say I’m lonely, but I’m aware I am a bit like a puppy dog, with big, intense eyes, every time someone speaks to me. Hoping I might have a conversation. Hoping something meaningful might happen.

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. Searching…just searching. I’m fucking knackered.

So, to end. This trip. It’s been about a few people. Not places.

So to David, Thierry, Eric, Hajo and Marion, I thank you. I really do, you have made this something great.

Xx

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