April 22

Yesterday it started, The Netherlands announced no getting together until August 31. I have known for a while we probably weren’t going to go to Europe in June for our celebratory adventure. Today the reality struck like a hammer on an anvil. I awoke to an email from AirBNB; our accommodations in Paris July 12 to 14 was cancelled and I would be getting a refund. Today I began the process of cancelling the rest.

Westjet is offering a twenty-four month window to use travel bucks. Waiting until they cancel or until we are closer to our flight time made the most sense. I concentrated on Airbnb, then Hotels.com. What took hours and hours of planning and searching, exciting times back in December and January, took a morning to undo. I go to the Euro-tunnel Website and find out our pass is valid for one year we can rebook but no refund is available… I hope we can go in one year. I hope we can afford it. We are the lucky ones, my wife’s nephew was booked for a wedding in Puerto Vallarta in May, no refund available; only credit.

The dreary day kept us inside. Scattered showers coated the landscape with a glimmering sheen. Dampness encroached on our mood and I headed for the kitchen to prepare another meal. I miss eating out, sometimes it’s nice to let someone else do all the work. I have taken on the role of chef. I think it is more important that Krista works and earns money, someone needs to; Besides, I am getting pretty good at cooking. Baked fish and chips gave us a delicious English traditional meal. We won’t get the real thing in London this year.

I shook my melancholy and decided I need to keep my walking streak alive. Brad was up for another walk, My wife bowed out, she had a chill. We walked our familiar road down toward the hi-way. One month of walks, tomorrow is one month of writing my journal. I never thought we would be in this much chaotic calmness when I first documented our abandonment of Big White. That first walk with our dear friends in the dark and uncertain night of our ski home feels like an eternity ago.

As we walked down the road I felt some change burning a hole in my pocket. I asked my friend if he felt like walking through the Dairy Queen drive-thru for something to do. We agreed to see if they would serve us. The homeless guy that walked through the parking lot said they wouldn’t. I knew better. A dipped cone and a DQ bar later we were on our way home. I felt bad for the homeless guy, he couldn’t get served. Why did they treat us differently? Inside my heart I knew why.

Back at home I decide I need some musical therapy. I start by playing The Pretty Reckless and enjoy the new rock they represent. They were the reason I booked Pinkpop in the first place. As we wind down the night I revert to the music that always soothes my soul; Led Zeppelin. Every day is better because we still have Led Zeppelin and ice cold beer.