Five years ago, Craig and I were happily retired, bumbling around Europe in a motorhome. Life was a rolling buffet of wine, cheese, and sat-nav arguments. Then Covid arrived, and the world pressed pause. Mum’s dementia pulled us home, Mac n Tosh passed away, and suddenly the house felt emptier than Craig’s sock drawer after laundry day.
I went back to work, enjoyed the challenge, and then one day we looked at each other
and asked:
- How do we live our best life now?
Answer: Lets Go Travel.
Mum died last year. Dad followed more recently. Only yesterday we stood through his funeral. Losing your parents is very sad and very emotional but it also reminds you of how precious life is.
Now we’re off again – older, wiser, slightly creakier, and with joints that sound like b
ubble wrap. A one way ticket to Bangkok for a walkabouts. How long for – who knows but retirement No. 2 starts here.
But first, Manchester Airport.
Manchester Airport
Manchester Airport has always been one of Craig’s favourite places to commentate on, like a one-man nature documentary delivered sotto voce while pushing a trolley.
We hadn’t been there ten minutes before he leaned in and said, “Ah. Pint-at-six people,” nodding gently towards a group holding lagers with the calm confidence of men who consider this a perfectly reasonable time to hydrate.
As we moved on, he clocked the duty-free perfume counter. “This,” he whispered, “is where hope goes to die.” Seconds later, a woman sprayed something aggressively floral in our direction. Craig now smelled faintly of Dior and poor decisions. He took it well.
At security, while we shuffled forward, Craig provided a running update on queue dynamics. “These ones are professionals,” he murmured, watching a couple dismantle their bags with military precision. “They’ve rehearsed.” Behind us, someone dropped a shoe and sighed in a way that suggested this wasn’t their first loss.
At the gate, a man sprinted past in flip-flops, boarding pass clutched like it was legally binding. Craig followed him with his eyes. “Gate sprinter,” he said. “Always confident. Never early.”
Then there was the man at the departures board, standing completely still, staring at it as if it had personally betrayed him. “That,” Craig said quietly, “is the face of a man reconsidering everything.”
Most shops were shut, but then again it is New Years Eve and our flight is the last flight of the year to leave the airport. The pub was open, so we headed over for a celebration drink.
We sat with our beer — which tasted pretty good considering I don’t usually like beer — and a bag of sweets, watching it all unfold. We laughed. Proper laughed. Not mocking, just enjoying the theatre of it, the shared recognition that the world is ridiculous and, for once, we were in the mood to notice.
The couple next to us sat there like a postcard nobody asked for – him nursing a warm beer, her still in full curlers as if she’d escaped mid-perm and decided the pub was as good a hiding place as any. He was talking. Probably about a beach party or cars. Or something equally exciting. She, however, had transcended. Because she wasn’t listening. Not even a little. She was deep in a crochet trance, looping yarn like a woman possessed, while a string on mother-of-pearl discs clattered together with every enthusiastic stitch. The whole bar kept turning around – not because of the romance, but because she sounded like a wind chime in a hurricane. We still don’t know what was more impressive – the curlers, the concentration, or the fact she managed to ignore him and the rest of the bar and the entire acoustic performance of her own accessories.
There was also the small matter of us. Two people in our mid-fifties, apparently meant to be learning how to knit, take up fishing, or perfect a sourdough starter and complain about the weather. Instead, there we were with backpacks and travel insurance, quietly pretending this was all perfectly sensible. Mutton dressed as lamb, perhaps — but very comfortable lamb. Well-fed. Slightly smug. And on our way to Asia.
Curtain Call
So here we are: a new day, a new year, a new start, and a new country waiting patiently on the other side of security.
Retirement No. 2 begins not with temples or tuk-tuks, but with queues, perfume clouds, and Craig muttering thoughtfully about the price of a bacon bap.
Bangkok awaits. But for now, Manchester Airport has reminded me of something important: adventure doesn’t start when you land — it starts when you’re laughing together at the world exactly as it is, carrying with you the people you love, even when they’re not coming along.
So here we are: a new start, a new year and a new country waiting patiently on the other side of security. Happy New Year Folks, see you in a few days.
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We were wondering where you were! We guessed you were looking after family though and sorry to hear of their passing. We have had similar issues, so sympathise.
Glad to hear your motorhome is still around. We re-imagined ourselves (far better than ‘retired’) to our long-term plans to travel in our Live-in truck a couple of years or so ago, although we tend to find an ideal spot in the European sun and sink in (for three months at a time – sigh). But our eldest lives in Northern Thailand, so we know very well how wonderful it is to travel there too. I love the contrasts of the main cities to the country or islands, the food, the smiles and the total chaos of it all.
Very glad to have you back writing. While there are plenty of travel blogs around. . . it’s rare to find one so well written. Hats off.
Thank you for such a thoughtful message. You were right — family needed us for a while, and I’m sorry to hear you’ve faced similar times.
Your live‑in truck life sounds wonderful. Three months sunk into a sunny European spot… that’s the dream. And with family in Northern Thailand, you’ll know exactly why we love it here — the food, the smiles, the chaos, the calm.
Really glad you’re still out adventuring too. And thank you for the kind words about the writing — that means more than you know.
Hats off to you as well.
Wow sounds like a great adventure I couldn’t believe it when I saw an email from you guys it seems such a long time ago when we were reading your blogs and also travelling full time. So sorry to hear about your parents and Mac and Tosh, our Max sadly passed last September as well. We are off to Morocco for the first time since 2019 having been 5 times 2025-19. It will be sad without our loyal companion. Enjoy your trip.
Thank you so much — it really does feel like a lifetime since the old full‑time travel days. Life took us on a very different kind of journey for a while, and losing our parents and our furry boys was incredibly hard. I’m so sorry to hear about your Max too. They leave such a big space behind, don’t they, those loyal little souls.
Morocco sounds like a beautiful return for you, even if it will feel different this time. Five trips is a glowing review in itself, so maybe we’ll have to follow your lead one day and finally see it for ourselves.
Wishing you a wonderful trip and sending a big hug from the road xx
Hello loving the write up ! Eventually found comment box yea !!
Hooray — she found the comment box!
Miracles do happen.
Thanks sis, glad you’re enjoying the write‑up… now don’t go losing the comment box again, it’s your new best friend.
Big love xx
Great you’re off again. Looking forward to the new twists and turns.
Our motorhome is now for sale so we can justify long haul.
Thank you — it feels good to be back out in the wild again.
Selling the motorhome is a big step, but I completely get the logic… long‑haul suddenly feels far more “justifiable” when there’s no van sulking on the driveway. A new chapter for you too, then — exciting times ahead.
Here’s to fresh twists, new horizons, and whatever mischief the road throws at us next.
Big hugs xx
I’ve missed your blogs! I still have a link to all of your wild camping POIs.
Have a great trip and enjoy the sun.
Thank you — that really means a lot.
Hard to believe those wild‑camping POIs are still out there doing the rounds… little digital breadcrumbs from our muddier, windier days. We’ve missed writing too, so it feels good to be back sharing the chaos again.
Here’s to sunshine, new stories, and maybe one day adding a few more POIs to the map.
Big hugs xx
I haven’t read your post yet but I’m already delighted to see you’re writing again.
More later…
Hey Kelvin!
Love this — enthusiasm before even opening the post is the highest compliment.
Take your time, enjoy the read when you get to it, and I’m just glad to have you back with us again.
More chaos coming… later
Though sad at your losses, absolutely delighted that you are travelling again and sharing it with us. You write so eloquently and humorously. We have often wondered about you over the years. We still use your bumble motorhome free stops!
Safe travels. Martin and Dawn
Thank you, Martin and Dawn — your message really touched us.
It’s been a tough few years with the losses, and stepping back from travelling felt strange after so long on the road. But the pull to wander (and to write about the chaos we create along the way) never really went away. It means a lot to know we were thought of.
And I love that you’re still using the Bumble free stops — little echoes of our muddier, happier van days. One day we’ll be back adding more to the map, I’m sure.
Safe travels to you both, wherever the road takes you next.
Big hugs xx
Brilliantly written Joanne!
We did wonder what had become of you guys. We always enjoyed your blog.
Very sorry for your losses, your dad’s antics always made me laugh.
I’m following on Instagram, looks amazing although the pictures moved too fast for my ageing eyes lol !
Thank you so much — that really means a lot.
It’s been a strange few years, and losing dad was a huge blow… though I’m glad his antics are still making people smile. He’d be delighted to know he’s remembered for mischief rather than manners.
We’re slowly finding our feet again, and it feels good to be back writing and wandering. Instagram, on the other hand, seems determined to test everyone’s eyesight — even mine. I promise the blog version moves at a much more civilised pace.
Really lovely to have you with us again.
Big hugs xx
Good luck through Thailand and beyond. we visited the North for a month last year look forward to your posts such a joy to read. Hope you get back into motorhome travels as you in the past were our travel agent on wheels helping us decide places we were to visit in our camper So good luck and gappy travels …… from India
Thank you so much — that’s really lovely to hear.
Thailand has already swept us up in colour and chaos, and knowing you enjoyed the North for a whole month makes us even more excited for what’s ahead. I’m glad the posts still bring you joy… it feels good to be writing again after such a long pause.
And your “travel agent on wheels” comment made me smile. Those motorhome days were some of our happiest, and I’m sure we’ll circle back to them when the time is right. The van might be parked for now, but she’s definitely not retired.
Sending big hugs and gappy travels right back to you in India xx
How lovely to see you back and blogging again.
Thank you — it’s really lovely to be back.
It feels a bit like dusting off an old part of myself, and I’m so glad you’re still here reading along. Plenty more stories to come.
Big hugs xx