Decisions, decisions

It seems to me, looking back (and today is a day for looking back and forward) that all the big decisions in my life have been taken with great ease, without question or prevarication. Which university, what degree. My first proper full-time paid job. Establishing a company. Getting married. Even the current set of major decisions – sell the house, move to France in a caravan – have felt instantly clear and right.
It’s the little things that take the time, produce paroxyms of uncertainty, paralyse with doubt. Which books to keep, what clothes to take, where to find a home for our favourite plants and shrubs. Other decisions are informed by technical and practical considerations – which vehicle will pull Lotte on her great journey, for example, is being determined by things like gross train weight, payload, mass in running order, mediated by UK importers of left-hand drive vehicles.
I think I may have omitted to blog yet that we think we have sold the house and – all being well – will be leaving Lewiston on 8 November. Before then we will need to decide on our short term itinerary at least – we’d like to avoid getting to the end of the street and being unsure whether to turn right or left. This is a decision that will be informed more by the vagaries of concluding missives (we may need to remain in the area for a few days) and the availability of campsites in northern Scotland in November than by any uncertainty as to the direction of travel (but we may need to go north in order to get south – up to Inverness to reach the A9 – reculer pour mieux sauter!)
Another thought for the day: there must be 50 ways to leave your loveshack.

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