Day Sixty Five

Last night, it seems I may have put my powers to good use.  In fiddling with the key, it occurs to me that it’s quite loose in the casing. Could it be that simple?  Is it not starting easily as the key isn’t connecting the way it ought?  I put the theory to the test, sure enough, held in a certain way, it works. 

This morning, the motorhome starts first time, and again throughout the day.  The relief is palpable.  I strike again it seems, succeeding where professionals and clever clogs Chrissy have failed.  It’s the bloody key, I’m sure of it.  Even Chris is convinced by day’s end.  He’s subsequently banned from touching the key – it’s my new job. 

It’s our last day in Gotland.  I’m really sorry to be leaving.  We spend the morning getting ready and organising ourselves to be back on the mainland.  In the midst of it all there’s an issue with the gas connection powering the fridge. 

Here we go again. This issue though, thankfully is a quick fix.  Once again we’re lucky to be put in front of the queue and a lovely man fits a new part – we’re good to go in under 30 minutes.  Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could take the stress of another issue.

Gas supply sorted, we settle back on the beach, get the bikes out and ride into Visby for final drinks.  I have an excellent coffee that will keep me up until next week, Chris a special local beer that takes 6 minutes to pour; it’s a fluffy masterpiece.  

The town square is buzzing and we watch with amusement trucks zipping through the narrow streets.  One brave driver even on his mobile as he negotiates houses, awnings and eaves.  If anyone is going to wipe out centuries of history with a vehicle, I’d rather it was a local and not us.

Eventually we ride back, one last pass between the ancient wall and sea, to laze away what’s left of the afternoon, beachside on a picnic rug, spying on water birdies through binoculars.  

The shallows hold partially submerged rocks just off shore, affording the many varieties of birds protected spots to rest, sleep, bathe and go about their birdy business.  Even a few land birds drop in for a sea bath, carefully fluffing themselves with minimal submersion. I practice photography via binoculars.

Late afternoon sees us depart for the Gotland ferry to Oskarshamn, another 3 hour hop. Ferry rides are quite handy.  It’s a good time to catch up on the blog, stress free travel and a good exuse to eat Kottbuller for dinner.  We arrive just as the sun starts to set.

The motorhome is still starting with a gentle touch.  Much relief for us both and a pinch of smugness on my part.  All those service boys, a fancy computer  and Chris, who can normally fix anything. And who fixes it? Me. Ha. Shades of last year’s water pump issue all over again.   Female logic combined with a personal motto of “failure is not an option”, together with an A type, forever asking “but why” personality…it gets the job done everytime.  πŸ˜‰

Buc, my father, would be proud.  It’s he who taught me to strip things down, use tools and solve mechanical issues.  Very handy skills to have. 

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