I match my van now.
I’m parked in my friend’s drive. They don’t know I’m here. They’re expecting me tomorrow. It’s a big drive. There is a fly in here. Gilbert is sparko.
Today has been full of marvels. Cresting the hill down to Robin Hood’s Bay just after dawn, the sea suddenly dark and grand. Following the bright river of road across the moors, rusty bracken, grass brighter green because it’s wet, the way a pebble is before you get it home.
A sudden thought. The last time I drove the roads to the beach, I was going to my mama. And I belted out Country Roads all the way.
That fly is going to be very annoying. He’s quiet and then he buzzes again, just as you’ve forgotten he’s there. He’s a big fucker. Warkworth, Northumberland
I’m showing you the highlights. But I’m not on this long and winding road to mend anything. I’m on it to take time.
Time to remember, to sit with how frightening things got; time to get distracted by a field of sheep backlit by a tangerine moon. To stand still on cold beaches in a warm coat with a young dog who is trying his best, and watch the sea. Time to let go of the grip I want to hold on everyone I love. To let the stress leave my body, to sleep under two duvets with the rain falling on the cold tin roof (or tonight, with the wind flapping curtains on closed windows).
I need to try to live in the loss a bit, instead of running away from it so fast I can’t get my breath.
So anyway, sure, I’ll share some of the highlights.
Crab sandwich in a tiny pub on the beach. Rob bringing tea and toast & marmalade in the neon dawn in a wet orchard. Dorothy next door bringing me a Tunnocks Tea Cake with my cuppa, at half eight in the morning. Miles of farm lanes with skeleton trees. Making camp on a headland with the lights of ships in my windscreen. Chicken curry in a Moomin pan. A rhombus of dark chocolate for afters. Gilbert pressed against my legs under the blanket. Life is beautiful. I miss you, mum. Eyemouth
I’m showing you the highlights. But I’m not on this long and winding road to mend anything. I’m on it to take time.
Time to remember, to sit with how frightening things got; time to get distracted by a field of sheep backlit by a tangerine moon. To stand still on cold beaches in a warm coat with a young dog who is trying his best, and watch the sea. Time to let go of the grip I want to hold on everyone I love. To let the stress leave my body, to sleep under two duvets with the rain falling on the cold tin roof (or tonight, with the wind flapping curtains on closed windows).
I need to try to live in the loss a bit, instead of running away from it so fast I can’t get my breath.
So anyway, sure, I’ll share some of the highlights.
Crab sandwich in a tiny pub on the beach. Rob bringing tea and toast & marmalade in the neon dawn in a wet orchard. Dorothy next door bringing me a Tunnocks Tea Cake with my cuppa, at half eight in the morning. Miles of farm lanes with skeleton trees. Making camp on a headland with the lights of ships in my windscreen. Chicken curry in a Moomin pan. A rhombus of dark chocolate for afters. Gilbert pressed against my legs under the blanket. Life is beautiful. I miss you, mum. Eyemouth
Heading home in a cab from the Albert Hall where we did our final night of @letterslive. It has been a beautiful couple of shows. I am so lucky to be in this little family. Old friends and new, we were all starstruck by John Kerry and we all fell in love with @jessphillipsmp .The behind-the-scenes guys are total legends.
Tomorrow I leave London and head north on the first leg of my big trip to the Highlands, and back down the west coast.
My first stop is Newark to visit my friend @rooboyd. Maybe we shall have some Moomins.
Lots of Love, see you down the road, Loo xx
Heading home in a cab from the Albert Hall where we did our final night of @letterslive. It has been a beautiful couple of shows. I am so lucky to be in this little family. Old friends and new, we were all starstruck by John Kerry and we all fell in love with @jessphillipsmp .The behind-the-scenes guys are total legends.
Tomorrow I leave London and head north on the first leg of my big trip to the Highlands, and back down the west coast.
My first stop is Newark to visit my friend @rooboyd. Maybe we shall have some Moomins.
Lots of Love, see you down the road, Loo xx
Heading home in a cab from the Albert Hall where we did our final night of @letterslive. It has been a beautiful couple of shows. I am so lucky to be in this little family. Old friends and new, we were all starstruck by John Kerry and we all fell in love with @jessphillipsmp .The behind-the-scenes guys are total legends.
Tomorrow I leave London and head north on the first leg of my big trip to the Highlands, and back down the west coast.
My first stop is Newark to visit my friend @rooboyd. Maybe we shall have some Moomins.
Lots of Love, see you down the road, Loo xx
Chapter One and Two. With Gilbert the Dog and an Unscheduled Breakdown. Participants from India, Texas, Germany, Turkey, Slovenia and Raunds. Thank you. Love LooLoo and Gilbert the sleeping beauty. Cloughton
My darling friend @rooboyd made an embroidery of me as a Moomin character from Moominvalley in November. Isn’t it MAGIC? She’s got my fringe down.
Now I have been emotionally blackmailed into reading the first chapter this Sunday night from the van somewhere near Scarborough. Please come and say hi. How about 8pm? Love Loo and Gilbert
#Moominsatbedtime #Moominsontour #MoominvalleyinNovember #Dollyontheroad #areyougoingtoscarborough #areyougoingtosanfrancisco #vanlife #roadtrippin #roadtripping Scarborough, North Yorkshire
Short episode of Moomins! 7.30 tonight. From the heavenly village of Shieldaig, near Lochcarron. I’m on Glasgow John’s Wi-Fi. See you there xxx
When I took this photo I panicked for a split second that there was a sheep on my bonnet.
#omar #dollyontour #dollyontheroad North Yorkshire Moors
We drove west along the north coast of Scotland into the dazzle of a sunset and made it to the beach just before the sun slipped down behind a band of cloud.
There was a smushed marigold on the tide line. I walked the quarter mile to our bit of the beach, where a scree of giant pebbles meet the sand. On my phone is a picture of mum sat here with a towel on her head.
I put the marigold on the rocks. The Mexicans call it the flower of the dead and use its bright colours to guide the spirits of their lost ones to their shrines on the Dio de los Muertos.
I ran my fingers through the fine white sand and let the sea and the sky do their thing.
We drove west along the north coast of Scotland into the dazzle of a sunset and made it to the beach just before the sun slipped down behind a band of cloud.
There was a smushed marigold on the tide line. I walked the quarter mile to our bit of the beach, where a scree of giant pebbles meet the sand. On my phone is a picture of mum sat here with a towel on her head.
I put the marigold on the rocks. The Mexicans call it the flower of the dead and use its bright colours to guide the spirits of their lost ones to their shrines on the Dio de los Muertos.
I ran my fingers through the fine white sand and let the sea and the sky do their thing.
We drove west along the north coast of Scotland into the dazzle of a sunset and made it to the beach just before the sun slipped down behind a band of cloud.
There was a smushed marigold on the tide line. I walked the quarter mile to our bit of the beach, where a scree of giant pebbles meet the sand. On my phone is a picture of mum sat here with a towel on her head.
I put the marigold on the rocks. The Mexicans call it the flower of the dead and use its bright colours to guide the spirits of their lost ones to their shrines on the Dio de los Muertos.
I ran my fingers through the fine white sand and let the sea and the sky do their thing.
An unusual Live.
Chapter Five of Moominvalley in November. Featuring Glasgow John loudly washing up, Frosty the Jack Russell, Sam’s feet and Gilbert.
With viewers from Iran, Pakistan, Brazil, Bavaria, Idaho, Hong Kong and Milan. Shieldaig, Loch Torridon
Shout out to Gilbert, who would now like to be known by his official title, Prince Gilbert. We have been joined by my oldest pal, @spamelahamderson, who just peed in her own shoe. @birkenstock
Tbf this morning at five I peed on my pajama leg. But it was windy.
POSTSCRIPT
Sam has just confessed to peeing on the bib of her dungarees once while out on a dog walk. She’s an animal. Gairloch
See you at 8 for the first chapter of Moominvalley in November from a pub car park between Scarborough and Whitby! #moominsatbedtime #dollyontheroad
Chapters Three and Four of Moominvalley in November. Featuring Fillyjonk and Gilbert the Gildog. Thanks for joining me outside a dark empty field where the Highland Games are held. Directly after the Live, Gilbert went on an extensive slurping marathon under the covers. I checked. He’s licking his paws. TFFT. Love you! See you next time! XXX Braemar
Wow. Emilia @byporrelli sent these beautiful, hand-made – & gold-leafed no less – notebooks. They arrived in the post just in time for Dolly’s maiden voyage.
I was so touched by your note, Emilia, and sorry to hear of your loss. What a kindness you have done me. Thank-you. xxx
The road trip is almost done. I have found my way back to the valley, to Charlotte.
Today, a golden November day in Gwynedd, we walked up the hill behind Buarthau, putting our feet into hoof marks from the herd of cows who were brought down for winter last week.
Gilbert had a fight with some dead bracken. His little face has two bright red stripes on it. He looks like Adam Ant, or Action Man.
This was the valley at seven this morning before the fog lifted.
Right. Time to light the fire. Nant Gwynant
Days of old friends and new friends and friends of friends. A dash to the badlands of Carlisle to get a windscreen-wiper motor, a stay with my novelist friend Sarah in an arts and crafts cottage on a steep hill in Kendal, stuffing our faces with Köpoğlu (aubergine, tomato & garlic salted yoghurt) from Cafe Olive and making her daughter peal with laughter at my silly voice for Gilbert. Today’s journey is avoiding the M6 on farm lanes over the fells. Down to Flintshire, where we made Chuck Chuck Baby another lifetime ago. This is a broken bamboo screen made by @tomphilipson1 at @thefarmersarms_ an incredible arts collective in a Tudor pub that you mustn’t miss if you’re anywhere near Ulverston. They make ceramics too. I may have spent all my pocket money.
Yesterday I drove through Glencoe, across Rannoch Moor and over the Highland Boundary Fault Line that separates the giants from the gentle lowlands. A surprise night in @commucci’s little stone lodge near Loch Ard in the Trossachs. Today I find dear pals in Glasgow and Tuesday I make my way south through Galloway Forest Park towards England. This was the view from my pillow yesterday morning.
Hugh McDiarmid via @typhooncolquhoun:
“The rose of all the world is not for me.
I want for my part
Only the little white rose of Scotland
That smells sharp and sweet—and breaks the heart.”
The sun ain’t gonna shine any more.
Today just outside Inverness is one of those late autumn days when the day doesn’t really break. Clouds so thick you want to turn up the lights. I’m in a farmhouse and am listening to the wind and a crow. Gilbert is very happy that we are still. Last night was my first wash in a week. An ecstatic bath. But I feel the road along Loch Ness and south to Loch Lomond calling. Beinn Eighe
I’m near now.
Stayed the night in the very lap of luxury, at the metal and wood clad recording studios built by Grace Maxwell and @mredwyncollins on the hillside at Helmsdale. The windows are all sea.
It was beautiful to sit and laugh and talk with Edwyn after four years. I missed dearest Grace. Gilbert was exemplary apart from drinking from the milk jug.
We are four Dolly hours (she goes much slower than most cars) by mountain roads from the village on the North West coast where we always went as children.
Gilbert watching crows.
Lots of people have been incredibly kind and gone way out of their way to help me and Gibbers to do this journey.
Some ‘this trip wouldn’t have been possible withouts’…
Piers, who made sure the gas and electrics weren’t going to kill me and dresses up as Batman on the weekends.
Trevor and his trusty blue rope – thanks for shaving off a bit of tree and gently yanking me out of a mud bath in Warkworth.
Dave, from the tiny fishing harbour of Eyemouth, who made the van doors close again. Can someone please buy his garage, as he wants to retire?
Beth, whose family-run company @fuellagoon makes thermal covers for camper windows, even geriatric Leyland Daf Convoy ex-minibuses, and who sewed them for me at the very last minute, because everything was very last minute.
Big Steve near Eyam, who rebolted the lever thing that lifts the bonnet up and let Chris play catch with Ted the coolest Jack Russel we’d ever met.
And finally, If you have a van – or are converting one, go to the brilliant, brilliant guys at @autoterm.store who sell and fit the toughest van heaters in the metaverse. I think they were designed for Latvian tanks and Dolly was a frozen shell until that heater went in. Now me and Gilb are warm as toast in the three seconds before toast goes cold. It’s made her into a room, a place to sit out storms. Like yesterday’s, on a blasted headland. It rocked us like we were in a boat on big seas. I probably shouldn’t have googled ‘can campingvans tip over in the wind’.
Thank you all so much. Gifford, East Lothian
