‘In the time we had been away from Bansko, the snow in the mountains had melted, allowing us to reach a rustic campsite in Pirin National Park’
As I sat watching fat droplets of rain run down the motorhome window, their rhythmic sounds reverberating on the roof, I couldn’t help but feel safe. It didn’t last long, though, as gradually a new sensation began to percolate from within, one of anxiety tinged with fear, which admittedly, is not something I’ve had to contend with much on our travels.
It wasn’t an easy decision to come back on the road following the unexpected passing of my Dad – five weeks back in the UK long enough for us to settle into a routine there and almost forget the life we had created living full-time in our motorhome.
Clichéd as it might sound, that’s what he would have wanted us to do, to keep living life, making the most of every opportunity and creating the sorts of memories with our children that he and Mum