Menoffulating; Courie Doon

To courie doon is the Scots equivalent of the Danish hygge. It's not necessarily seasonal, but there's no doubt that the onset of the darker, damper seasons encourages one to courie doon!

I need to buckle down and get more videos made, not least about what stage The Grey is at on his internal arrangements. The layout is now more or less set, and I am at the fettling stage. I am deciding what doors, if any, to affix to the shelving, thus creating cupboards. The kitchen arrangement needs a little refinement. The utility area is incomplete. The ceiling needs finishing off. It's like any home—the care and repair are never-ending!

I did purchase some new cushion covers and a sheet and duvet set to suit the mood of courie-ing doon. So here I present you with the setup of my bedsit area in the living quarters - day and night modes.

It's safe to say I'm thriving on van life. Yes, I know there are some of you, dear readers, who shrivel at the thought, but as a solo senior, I shrivel at the thought of having bricks and mortar in which nothing but an accumulation of stuff becomes suffocating and acts like an anchor, nay, concrete shoes.

Over the next few months, on the few days that I spend in The Hutch, I intend to prepare it for the market and seek to sell it by the end of 2025. That's the plan for now, at least. Life, as we know, lays its own plans and may not always match our own, but I am enough of a free spirit to let that unfold as it will. What I do know is that living in The Grey has brought me a return of some flexibility in my old joints, an increase in vitality, and a sense of being part of a wider community again (after several years of focus on caring and being isolated by the events of 2020). It has afforded me the chance to do what I do best - travel and learn. Not a day goes by without me learning something entirely new or being reminded of something long forgotten. It can be as simple as a new word or more profound, such as a deeply meditative moment by the shore. I have been able to revel in nature in a way that had been closed off to me since repatriating to the Bonny Land from OZ. Yes, L'il Ren (remember her?!) took me places, but mostly, it was to and from the father's place to attend his nursing and aide. 

Anyway, I was in courie doon mode as I worked my way back to Aberdeen. After Loch Lomond, I moved to Killin. That's for tomorrow's post!