Out of the Frying Pan...

Well, that was a trip! SO much happened both in Greece working with the refugees and after I got home, there was zero time to keep up with the blog. You know how it goes... if you stand still for a minute, your life takes off without you. And boy, did it ever. I guess the universe hadn't wrung enough out of me when I had to systematically dismantle and pare down a four bedroom house, because now I had to yank what was left out of storage and find some place to live pronto. The daughter came home from her placement year for the summer and had nowhere to live. And I had to plan my return to Europe, back to the camps, so it was a good, if expensive, interim plan. Then just as suddenly, summer was over; she went back to Uni in September and I pared down again - to the nubbins. Sold the sofas, two beds I had 'acquired' and pretty much everything else that wasn't an heirloom, nailed down and/or didn't move out of my way fast enough. Gave away half of what was left over from the last move too. The charity shops love me. :)

I had been donated a camper to continue the work, which was awesome (thanks Joel!) and gave notice. Tragically, becausethings weren't stressful enough I guess, just days before I was to move into it, the yard where it was being serviced was vandalised. The camper was stripped (yep, inside and out - even took the windows and the wheels, the bastards) and then toppled it and completely destroyed my not-gonna-be-home anymore. I was shocked to the core at the random and unnecessary violence of it all. To top it off it was on a SORN and uninsured. Terrible blow and me now homeless, with a cat and a shed load of camping gear. Crapola.

So I did what anyone would do, moved in with my uber-generous friend Liz (again!) while I worked out what the next steps were going to be. Meanwhile my friend Paula got up a gofundme campaign to try and raise funds to replace the camper, which was mildly successful (so many people to thank for their generosity), raising about 10% of what was needed.

In the end, I traded my Fiat Panda (worth about £1000) to a guy who knew a guy from Northeast London whose name is Mohammed Ali (not even kidding - not even middle eastern - his parents adored the greatest boxer of all time is all) for a 19 seat LDV minibus (worth about £2000). While we stood in the cold, pouring rain waiting for the keys, he told me he'd do that because he believed in the work we're doing over there, helping people who's babies are sleeping in the dirt. Makes no difference if it was my baby, your baby, his baby or a Syrian baby, no babies should be sleeping outside in the dirt in Europe in 2016 for pity's sake. So very kind he was, a really decent, lovely chappie. Then I sold the seats to another sweet ex-refugee fella from Chad who runs his own minibus business out of Heathrow and whom I met in the parking lot of a pub on my way back from Bournemouth where I was visiting the daughter and discussing plans for the holidays.

Meanwhile, back in Canada, my dad's been very poorly this last year, so we (the offspringers and I) decided we'd go to the folks for the holidays in case it was his last Christmas. Without being morbid, we didn't want to have any regrets. My mum is happy we're coming and is looking forward to help with the Christmas baking. Yum. It'll be SO exciting to all be together for the holidays - the very first time in all these years my kids and I are going to be with my parents for Christmas. In the snow, in Canada - how magical!

#refugee #Syria #Campervan #Greece #Europe