And we know where you live. 

Give or take a few hundred square miles.

Still, things got better. 
Southern Spain just made it above freezing point, (although we later realised that was because Dan had driven off with the caravan hand-brake still on) and we managed to get a Fort Knoxy-locky type affair for the (now burnt-out) caravan, courtesy of one Dave Smith.  Older readers will surely remember the Smith Brothers Sidecar team from the 1980's - 90's.   My self (with passenger Malc Jackson) actually lifted the European Championship by beating them by about one-half of a gazzilionth of a second at Assen in 1992.  Luckily, they haven't held it against me, and Dave now lives and works in southern Spain with his family.  And what a family - it’s worth having Dave’s wife Doris drink all our beer just to have a competent person on the stop-watch.  But of course she's female, and we understand how confusing more than one button can be.  (Just Kidding Doris - keep drinking the beer!)  Moreover, it’s also always a delight having their absolutely charming daughter Danni around with her camera.   When she remembers it.  Still, it's just nice having Danni around - she gets to look more like a passenger every time meet!

Quick plug here for the Smith Family business - If you need stuff moving around Europe (or anywhere, for that matter), check out:

We invested in several (more) cosh's, bats, alarms and things securitorial. ( <-- made-up word).  No greasy pikey was going to be stealing MY charred remains.  No sir-ee.  I also bought a new watch. (Only 5-Euro’s, including knackered battery – you just can’t go wrong).

Still, things got better. 
A measly 130 Euro’s in motorway tolls while we spent the whole afternoon circling the ever-visible circuito Cartagena (with no indication whatsoever of how to actually get there) seemed a snip.  We eventually got shown the way in (down a muddy foot-path type affair) by a local moto-cyclisto. 

It was an Interesting circuit.

But soon a very wet Interesting circuit.
And very cold.
It actually WAS warmer AND dryer at Mallory Park whilst we were at Cartagena.

It was almost a relief when the circuito  'security' invited the local dog population in to come and play.  Oh! How we laughed, standing in the freezing cold watching Dan chasing wild hounds all over the circuit, foaming at the mouth.  Dan, that is.  Meanwhile our testing hours evaporated.  Unlike the well-moistened track surface.  My, the afternoon just flew by.

Still, things got better.
Turned out the nocturnal knob had also swiped my bag with all my gadgets in, including my shaver.  This of course meant I had an increasing amount of facial insulation, which was helpful.  And since it was the world’s noisiest, face savaging shaver I've ever had the pleasure to have purloined, (this shaver had a safety record worse than Sweeney Todd) - there is a high likelihood that Mohamed did in fact cut his own throat the following morning.

Har Har.    That’ll learn ‘im.

And then we only crashed three times, so that was good.  And the bike didn't look too bad after we hosed the several tonnes or so of bright red mud and hard-core off it.  But then it froze to the paddock, and it went dark (soon after breakfast). So we went shopping instead.
Whereupon the local Mafia tried to box us in outside the nearby supermarket.  But they soon bottled out when we tried to ram their car and they realised we already had pick axe handles at the ready too.  One just doesn’t encounter these sort of spiffing japes at Oulton when wandering down to the local Tesco's to buy a loaf.
AND it didn't rain at all on the last day.  Which was a bit of a shame really.  Meant we had to rather laboriously chip the ice off the circuit that morning.  At least it didn’t get REALLY dark until about ¼ -past lunchtime.  But that was tricky to gauge with no watch.  Slightly trickier using a watch with no battery – although presumably it was right at least twice a day.  Still, we managed 2 or 3 laps, which was nice. And it was only a slightly embarrassing spin when the bike ran out of fuel.  And it’s a hilly circuit, so we got nice and warm pushing it back - Result!

But things soon got better.
We had some bikes and a 'ped to deliver for my accountant at their holiday place 'en-route' home.  'En-route' turned out to be several hundred miles in the wrong direction, but Dan took some lovely pictures after we got stuck in the snow trying to find our rendezvous.

Still, at least we eventually made it home. 

Even at 10-30mph after the turbo packed up in N.Spain, it only took us 6-days.  And we learned a little about Turbos. (They're nasty when they don’t work). 

Seafrance tried to steal some (more) money from us because we missed our boat, but since one of their country-'men' (???) had already stolen everything, they couldn’t.  So we learned a little about Seafrance, too.  (They're nasty when they do work).

And all our beer froze, freeing us from any potential worries about drinking and driving.
So that was good.  No turbo however meant very little heat, which now that all our fingers have dropped off from frost-bite makes typing just a tad challenging.  But the fuel economy of the van improved enough to pay for some voice recognition software. 

Swings and roundabouts, as ever.

I'm Still manually inputting info from my last 4-5 phones and PC's.  And now with all manner of untold gems and secrets at large.....