David Williams, Captain Dave, Dave, Dad, Chicken legs.

March 27th 1938 - May 28th 2026.

Whoever you knew him as here is his life story in ,mostly, his own words, spelling mistakes and all…

Here is the condensed version.

...and here is the full story ...so make yourself a cup of or pour yourself a G&,T . Get comfortable and enjoy…

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My Life Story.

I notice the disturbance in the water is an overturned crab furiously trying to right itself, then, in a flash, an Eagle with talons extended and wings outspread is gone, calm returns.

I’m reclining in the cockpit of my craft moored in a quiet cove adjacent to nature reserve on an island thirty miles offshore in the Pacific Northwest of the United States anticipating the 4 o’clock g&t gathering here shortly, the Corvid epidermic is easing and I’m wondering if it would be worth writing an account of the life of a British working-class chap in his eighty’s, living off a state pension, who left School at 15 with an insatiable desire to travel.

So, if you’re up for it, here it is

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“Part One” .... Zero through to 50.

It’s been an interesting life so far, despite not necessarily in the way I had imagined, nevertheless I’ve sought to make the best of what has been presented to me.

I was born in Oxford in 1938 one year before the WW2, my father worked at the Morris car factory then converted to produce aircraft for the Air Force, my sister was three years my senior and my mother looked after us all.

In my earliest recollections I believe that I was a quiet child and not too rebellious, at around the age of ten I distinctly remember the occasion when I realised I had a stammer, an affliction that never really goes away, but after the age of 21 and with gaining confidence in life I realised that “I didn’t give a toss” and from then on I had it under control.

Academically I was always average in class but definitely better in anything to do with art and handicrafts, at thIrteen I won a place at “Rycotewood College” for rural crafts, but due to being in an Orthopaedic Hospital I missed the whole first term, but nevertheless the curriculum suited me perfectly.

In an interview with the education department careers person during the last years of my schooling I was advised to take a job with the then “British transport” as truck mechanic, due to my stammer so alleviating the need to converse.

I had no employment offers when I left my education at fifteen, so left for summer camp in Ireland with my boy scout troop, on my return my mother had set up an interview with a small engineering company in Oxford.

I began an apprenticeship with “King and Sons general engineering” in Oxford Centre it was a Dickensian establishment run by the “old man” (A tight fisted old bastard) 49 hour weeks, till 1 o’clock on Saturdays at the grand wage of 18 shillings or $3 for these times. But despite that I gained an enormous amount of knowledge and skill for the year I was there.

What finished it for me, was the day holding a length of 3 inch diameter metal shaft to a red-hot rivet in the stokehole of an oil-fired boiler, whilst my colleague was beating the hell out of it above me, and later asking the old man for dirt money due to the oily residue in the stoke hole, he reluctantly offered me one shilling a day to compensate.

I immediately applied to the “post office telephone department” for an apprenticeship application, a decision I’ve never regretted. I completed my apprenticeship and in time became a technical officer, that served me well in New Zealand Australia and United States.

I met my wife to be “Maggie” whilst installing extra switch boards to the Morris car factory telephone exchange and she being an operator, Maggie was the love of my life and we married after an interesting courtship, June 6th 1959 both 21.

We moved into a 16 foot caravan situated on a flower growing market garden, without electricity, water or drainage connections ... happy times.

I have always been curious and with a compulsive desire to “look over the hedge” so it’s little wonder the way my life has turned out.

My first explorations other than family holidays at the seaside, was, at every opportunity, “Youth Hosteling” on bicycles with my mates all over southern England.

By now the bug had bit and there was no going back, so at 16 with a friend with on bicycles we ventured abroad, catching what must’ve been one of the first trans-channel aircraft services, the plane carried 12 passengers and two cars, flying from Lydd in Kent to Le Touquet in France, we made it to Paris being overtaken on the way by the “Tour de France” The cost was 12 and six pence for the flight and half a crown for a bicycle.

The next year I convinced my future best man to hitchhike with me through France to see how far south we could get, we actually made it to Cann but running out of time we boarded a coach in Nice to Paris, it was a two day journey and felt travel sick after the first mile (always suffered from travel sickness)

The following year being without a partner I managed to find guy from the church social club that owned a new Vesper Scooter 125cc ... so wasting no time headed directly to the south of France.

By this time I was with my (wife to be) and having just purchased a new Ford van we toured car camping through France, a bit of Italy and Switzerland during the holidays.

And so it goes on, honeymoon on the Costa Del Sol Spain by my van and another year by train to the island of Elba just off the Italian coast.

So now for the “ big one,” we decided to emigrate using the assisted passage schemes offered by Australia and New Zealand, £10 for Australia £25 for New Zealand on the condition of two years residence, we chose New Zealand embarking “Northern Star”of the “Shaw Savile”shipping line at Southampton docks in the spring of 1963 stopping at The Canary Islands, Cape Town, Durban, Perth, Adelaide, Sydney and finally Auckland ... Worth every penny.

At arrival in Wellington the winds were so strong an enormous hole was torn in the bow of the ship while docking, we travelled onward by train to Auckland where we were housed in ex army barracks until we could find our own accommodation.

We were one of four couples that became friends during the passage due to our four birth cabins that split the men in one and the women in the other, it made for an interesting five weeks, but ensured that we weren’t totally isolated in a new land.

We Both worked for the government in the telephone department, My wife as a telephone operator and myself as an engineer, we stayed for nearly 3 years before travelling on to “Surfers Paradise” on the Queensland Gold Coast, our New Zealand stay was varied and interesting but too long to talk about at this time.

We flew to Brisbane without plans other than getting to “Surfers Paradise” and after a fifty mile coach trip down the coast checked into a motel while looking for accommodation.

To find work I went to the nearest phone box and dialled the telephone exchange, I was hired the next day and started work immediately, I worked partly in the switchroom and often on the road servicing equipment out in the “whop whops” driving across rivers in a Holden pickup, and maintaining equipment in a building the size of an outhouse beside a school, where the kids arrived on horseback. Great time, great guys, sad to leave.

Mags on the other hand had a more difficult time to find decent paying work so took a variety of jobs, one serving table in beach side hotel where the dress code was a bikini. We had a lot of fun met a lot of expats and spend as much time as we could on the beach.

We stayed the winter of sixty five and the following spring, there was more to see, more to do, so I applied to the US embassy in Brisbane for immigration into the USA. ( I had previously applied for immigration into the States when I was 18 years old, to no avail )

We were extremely fortunate, the embassy said that if we applied within the next two weeks we could apply under the European quota as we held UK passports, Australians were under the Asian Quota and took years.

Taking the overnight 500 mile non-stop coach to Sydney § we boarded the “Oriana” stopping in Fiji before landing in Hawaii as immigrants, The next stop was supposed to be San Francisco but due to scheduling we had to divert to Vancouver Canada to start it’s to cruise to Mexico.

Little did I know, while steaming past “San Juan Island” in 1966, what my future in the Area held for me.

We disembarked in San Francisco and a friend ( ex NZ tele operator ) had already arranged for an apartment to rent from contacts in her family, it overlooked “Ocean Beach” on 48th Avenue off “Geary Boulevard” that led directly downtown SF, The following day I used the public phone on the beach and asked for the employment department, ( thinking this was getting to be a habit ) after an interview I was hired as a maintenance technician in downtown San Francisco at $98 a week, and assigned by the boss a short fat Italian, behind a big desk, in a small office by the name of Mr Papapietro who told me in no uncertain terms that as I was to be working the red-light district, and that fraternisation with the girls was not allowed on company time.

Later on I worked “Chinatown” and finally the “financial district”

My job required a US driving license,The testing centre was in the panhandle of the golden gate park San Francisco. Neville my new Australian friend generously agreed to meet me after work to loan me his car for my test. I was understandably a trifle anxious as my job depended on it, I consider myself a competent driver but never driven a car with the steering wheel on the wrong side, in a car I had never driven before, in a city I was unused to, in rush hour traffic and only only a crash course in the California Highway Code. I drove so slowly, pre thinking every move, crossing three lanes of traffic, parking on steep hills ( big deal in SF ) and three point turns, and reverse parking, I believed I’d failed for driving so slow … but passed 98 out of 100 whew !

After a month we found that “Ocean Beach” was too far out of town and moved to a Studio apartment closer on 20th Avenue, Maggie with her sparkling personality never had a problem securing work, and was hired as a receptionist/telephone operator in a large real estate office, just a block away on Geary, refusing to give anybody an outside line unless they said “please” not “gimme” first ... it worked, and she was held with high respect from then on.

We had toured around a little and thought it would be nice to try the mountains around Lake Tahoe we bought a building lot and prepared ourselves to move, but in the intervening time I noticed an ad in the San Francisco paper requiring technicians for a private communications company downtown so decided to apply as a last ditch before moving to Tahoe.

E.D Jones was basically a sound engineering company with just a smattering telephone communications that had recently acquired a contract with LM Ericsson, a huge Swedish company for private telecoms systems. The technical specifications had been translated into English by the “ British PO telephones “ and they were a little out of their depth.

I was extremely fortunate to be in the right place at the right time, my recompense was greatly improved and LakeTahoe was put on hold.

Before we arrived in San Francisco I had always fancied Saucelito just north of the golden gate was a place to reside, but found it to expensive, Mill Valley was a little further north and found a great rental to settle down for a while, we had decided that after 10 years of roaming around it was time to try for offspring, Michelle arrived in due course and was delivered at the French Hospital San Francisco, Maggie‘s water broke early one Saturday morning so I dropped her off on my way to work to a job that could not be postponed, a weekend communications cut over of two floors in the “Alcoa building” in the financial district. I looked in to see Maggie and the new addition to the family on my way home, the baby was in a room with a viewing window, I picked out Michelle straight away being the only white child in there.

After some time we decided to give NZ another go, “ mistake” so packed up together with the 1960 Ford Falcon to be shipped to Auckland. resort, next stop uk staying with family and visiting friends, then off to NZ in a BA 707 with Michelle still in diapers stopping at Athens, Tehran , Delhi disembarking for a few days in HongKong to recover then off to Port Moresby New Guinea staying with Kevin and his wife from Surfers Paradise, onward to Sydney to Nev and June late of SanFrancisco ( never let a journey go to waste )…. Finally Auckland and renting a bungalow in Merangie Bay on Auckland’s North Shore we lasted six months and pulled up stakes ( finding out dreams don’t always fit with reality )

We sailed for SF together with our belongings packed in the hold, “ Green cards “ in passports, in Honolulu we hired a Mini Moke strapping Michelle together in pushchair securely into the open back seat and toured the island beaches, sampling fresh pineapple at the Dole plantation and finishing at the Honolulu beach hotel for a slice of coconut cream pie.

Before leaving Auckland I had been invited to return to my previous position with EDJ in San Francisco as well as another in Redondo Beach Los Angeles witch I declined, so work was not going to be a problem.

Our financial reserves were just about blown, and staying with friends longer than absolutely necessary ( even best friends ) is bad manners, so we found a delightful small house in Ross tucked away in an exclusive Marin neighbourhood for $37000 and we arranged for a “ 12 month lease option “ with a $2000 deposit, being near broke I approached my Boss EDJ and he generously stood guarantee for a 2K bank loan. I did some remodelling to suit us and it was one of our most settled and happy times, good friends, good job, so time to complete the family, Nicole arrived in due course and life was the best it could be.

Four years had elapsed and we were poised to return to the UK, for reasons not fully supported by myself although my work was becoming insecure due to national and world events, and Maggie seemed determined.

We made the most of journey by flying to St Tomas in the Caribbean via Porto Rico where we boarded a small twenty passenger aircraft the pilot taking the front seat, Maggie became terrified and was forever reluctant to fly again …. Job offer …. Bank home.

We were greeted with rain at Heathrow and gratefully met by brother in law Mike who dropped us off for a temporary stay with my family in Oxford while we searched once again for another home. Having no more than a general idea as to where, other than on the coast between Southampton and Lands End. So after purchasing an almost new Mini we set off leaving the girls in the tender care of their grand parents.

At Southampton we turned right and made for the coast road this took us through the New Forest turning up memories of “ youth hosteling “ long ago. Lymington is a thriving vibrant town with a long history set between the forest and the sea, the busy High Street sets on a hill with an old Coaching Inn at the centre, we checked in for the night ready to explore the area on the morrow, it ticked all the boxes and the search began once again as we the Estate Agents office.

The cottage was designed by “ Edwin Lutyens “ one of a group of six rural dwellings designed for a friend, £16,000 seemed a lot then, but not today.

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INTERVAL.

1974 - 1988 we can't find anything he wrote so we are attempting to fill in the big gap!

1974 we arrived as a family in the New forest . Setting up home in Kings Huts in Pennington. The family was made complete with the arrival of Scruffy the dog. All five of us would fit into the family car, a (now vintage) Beetle. Scruff occupying the rear window. Years later we would all, dog included, squash into an MG BGT Nikki and I would travel with our heads bent to one side to fit in!

Dad started working for Plessey around this time. He got a company car which he said was the best car he ever had , a custard yellow Ford Escort. He was with them for 10 years or so. Everytime we drove past the Christchurch branch we all turned our heads towards it and blew raspberries at the building!!

After around 4 years we moved up the road to Milford on Sea to the Old Bakery which was exactly that.. My parents converted it into a small but perfectly formed 2 bedroomed house. It was recently on the market this year (2026) with the same kitchen and bathroom my Dad installed in 1979. Even the daisy print net curtains in the kitchen survived!!

The Strip was another Milford property which was converted by my mad parents. It was apparently once an actual pig styl! Name has been changed by subsequent owners...can't think why!!

Meadow Sweet in Boldre was my mums favourite. It had an old road running through the garden which was reputed to be haunted by an old stage coach which sank in nearby Hatchet Pond. As my room was on the ground floor my Dad wanted to stand outside my window after dark and bang two coconut shells together to sound like ghost horses! My Mum persuaded him not to.

Next project was Clock Cottage in Lymington. This was originally a work shop of some description. It had a very impressive lounge with a walkway across the vaulted ceiling that ‘health and safety’ would probably have nightmares about.

This is where the clock's were made in a workshop in the garden providing more than enough sawdust for our rabbits and guinea pigs! There was also a Peacock who would visit from next door called Fred.

By now Dad has blown the final raspberry at Plessey and was now making clock's for a living with his friend Paul. Along with visiting craft fairs and a Sunday Covent Garden Market pitch he had a clock shop on the picturesque cobbled Quay at Lymington. Later there also be another shop in Sonoma California. I remember Covent Garden the best as I would often accompany him , help set up then wander around London most of the day!!

The last House of Williams was Markwells a small 2 bed Flat in Lymington. Plan to convert the attic into a 3rd bedroom were thwarted by council red tape as the ceiling was a quarter inch too high for a spiral staircase!!

We had many lovely family holidays during this time around Europe. Whilst staying in the South of France we popped over the border to Italy for a Pizza one afternoon…as you do!

Around this time their marriage broke down and my Dad moved back to California. This is were he picks up the story again.

Grab a fresh cuppa and maybe a biccy or two here is Part 2!!

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Part Two (post marriage).

It’s my 50th birthday in the spring of 1988 and I’m about to board a Pan-American flight to San Francisco, my marriage of close to 30 years had come unhappily to a close. I had no plans for the future and wondered what it would bring. During the flight I imagined a clean sheet of paper before me, to write any future I chose, so with $100 in my pocket and nothing in the bank, it began.

My wife and I had lived in various countries around the world, returning 15 years previously with the addition of two Californian daughters, so fortunately I had a few contacts left over there.

Bill, a lifelong friend offered the use of his Toyota “ pick up “ and Mike, temporary accommodation at his home in Oakland.

As I have a practical turn of mind and useful with my hands I managed to pick up a few handyman projects from referrals, then Jack, another friend with a small holding in the Marin hills offered me the use of his granny annex. That enabled me to look around for accommodation in the nearby wine growing Sonoma Valley, an area in which I was familiar.

Needing a steady income to live on and for commitments in the UK I scoured the newspapers for employment, managing to find a job as “window shutter” installer with a San Francisco Company having a branch in Santa Rosa, just 18 miles north of downtown Sonoma, It was interesting work, paying well and covered the greater Bay Area, the bonus was meeting the many interesting people from all walks of life along the way.

By now I had been in the states for a couple of months and had found a small apartment in the town of Sonoma (ultimately staying for seven years with another seven years at Toni’s place). By now I had scraped enough money together to purchase Bills Toyota and to buy tools necessary for my Shutter work, so as money was tight I built my own furniture for the apartment, very satisfying to be getting by at such little cost.

So, I had secured a job, an apartment, and transport, companionship was next on the list, and at 50 years old I hadn’t dated for 30 years, that’s an awful long time in anyone’s book, so the difficulty was to know where to begin, ( especially as American lady’s are different ) I had managed to open a few conversations during my travels, but the few dates I achieved got me absolutely nowhere.

Then Flo happened, the proprietor of the local Sonoma movie theatre, I fell into conversation with her at our PO Boxes, I knew her by sight as I often caught a movie on a Friday night, we talked intensely for some time, and parting promising to give her a call, which I did after a couple of weeks, she was a little pissed off as I hadn’t called earlier, goes to show how much I was in tune with current dating procedure.

It turned out to be a wild ride that lasted three years ending with a bang, she was 10 years my junior, highly intelligent, a recovering alcoholic, late for every appointment, totally unpredictable, and a heavy smoker, but a hell of a lot of fun, we attended film festivals in Las Vegas and travelled through France together (which is a horror story in itself).

Although she had her own apartment, most of her time was spent in mine as it was closer to the theatre, I got used to her tumbling into bed in the early hours, totally unconcerned for my early starts. I was accepted into her immediate family of five siblings and included in all the celebrations, and began to feel part of a family once again.

I fell for her completely and was heartbroken when it came to a very dramatic end, ( another horror story worthy of many pages of copy) May 1992

So once again I am looking for a partner, Toni was a part time projectionist at the theatre and full time therapist at the local hospital, she was unattached so I invited her out to dinner on the coast, being 16 years my junior and at 54 myself I wasn’t sure how it would work out with the age difference between us, but work out it did for the next 12 years together anyway.

Toni lived with her mother and two sons on the family property situated at the edge of town, it consisted of a log house on acreage with a large unused barn, which I later rented and converted into a workshop and small living accommodation, this was a very convenient situation for both of us that worked extremely well, I was in my element and happily took care of the property maintenance.

I purchased a Volkswagen camper which I completely overhauled taking to the road at every opportunity, we covered most of the USA, but Baja was our favourite for the warm seas and kayaking. Altogether we travelled over time from the top of British Columbia to Belize after touring Mexico.

The big trip was shipping the camper together with folding kayaks in a container to the UK, then travelling from Nord Cap at the very top of Norway to the very bottom of Greece, taking five months.

I valued Tony’s spirit of adventure, being game for anything proposed however wild it seemed, but all good things come to an end and it was sadly time for me to move on, but on friendly terms.

At 62 I opted for the early US pension that secured my freedom for .... Whatever? Now most of us have a bucket list, so I pulled out “living aboard a sailboat”, now the question of where in the United States would be best to locate? So I decided to take the camper and drive around the entire perimeter of the USA and Nova Scotia, to see if there was a better place than where we had previously kayaked in the Pacific Northwest, it took me 4 months, and decided while driving out of the northern Cascades towards Seattle that the San Juan islands was the place for me.

I have owned sailing dinghies but never owned a boat with an anchor, so was pretty green when it came to full-size yachts, well, I persevered and found a pretty little 28ft Cheoy Lee sloop for sale in Seattle for $15 K, so putting down a deposit I returned to California selling everything I had and returned to Seattle.

As there was at least two days of sailing between Seattle and Jan Juan islands I decided that some expertise would be very sensible, so I called my friend Colin at his business in London, to my relief he arrived within days.

The only navigational instrument left on the boat was a marine chart, so as replacements are extortionately expensive we visited a local supermarket “ back to school. “ section for a 12 inch plastic rule and compass, we headed out overnighting in Port Townsend marina on the Olympic peninsula, the following day found us in open water and disorientated in the “straight of Juan De Fuqua”, I saved the day by, on the horizon, recognising the tall buildings in Victoria on Vancouver Island and we corrected our course accordingly, the wind picked up resulting in a heavy swell, I began to feel distinctly unwell, thinking, what have I got myself into?

It’s now Summer 2004, my friend Colin has returned home, I’m on a temporary berth in the “ Port of Friday Harbour ” marina, I have no connection with the island and “ I’ve burnt my boats ” in California so I’m starting with a clean slate once again, I have to establish myself, first by obtaining a post office box, bank account, boat registration and boat insurance, etc, etc. By the fall I had moved into a “ live-aboard “ slip on the extremity of the marina facing a nature reserve, a lovely location.and just minutes from the town centre. In the following years and I cruised the Canadian Gulf islands with my friend Toni joining me on many of these explorations.

The weather in these latitudes are very similar to England, so winter living on the boat full time was not a bundle of fun, especially when it rained continually, so for the worst of it I travelled south in the camper to find sun in California, one time I meeting Walter, a Friday harbour friend in “ Slab City “ then continuing over the border at Calexico onto San Felipe in Baja, camping on the beach. In later years I drove the coast road to Sonoma leaving my vehicle at Toni’s, then catching the non-stop flight to Heathrow out of San Francisco, sleeping on the floor of my daughters small apartment over a pet shop on the south coast, keeping in contact with the family, and when my ex-wife developed cancer staying with her.

After five years living aboard my 28 foot sloop an opportunity arose to purchase a 26 foot cabin cruiser at a considerably reduced price due to its “ Iffy “ engine, it was “ on the hard “ on the neighbouring Lopez Island, so with Jim‘s help we managed to wrestle it back to Friday harbour to an abandoned moorage I had previously commandeered, over time I fitted the boat out to live “ off the grid “ with solar panel, propane tank and petrol generator.

Over the following 11 years to the present day a group of like-minded adventurous souls of both genders have formed a tight little group, gathering promptly at 4 o’clock at Jim’s cockpit or mine to share two hours of interesting conversation and friendship over G&Ts, we call ourselves the “China Cove yacht club “ ( Walter hauls up a dozen large bottles of gin from California ) that sometimes lasts the Summer.

My friendship with Toni continues, so in recent years during the autumn we have travelled extensively again in Europe with my little Renault Kangaroo I converted into a camper, year by year upgrading to more comfortable Airbnb accommodation.

My friends are for life, so I’ve kept in occasional touch with Flo, and in Aug 2018 I noticed that the temperature in Cloverdale California where she resides was 108° I emailed her and she flew up to stay aboard awhile enjoying the social camaraderie, and 70°

I am the proud father of two daughters both born in California, one living on the same High Street as myself in England with a successful dog walking business, and the other in a semi rural location East of Cleveland Ohio.

Nicky is a chip off the old block, with an outgoing personality like her mothers and is extremely adventurous, I keep telling her she should write a book of hilarious stories while“ waiting table “ around the world.

She is a managing partner of a little boutique restaurant, which enables her to have the daytime to herself and the animals, starting with the rescue rabbit, two barn cats, two dogs, two horses, and one enormous pig called a Henry, constantly being fattened from the restaurant waste bucket ( Henry is not for eating and the word bacon in is banned )

Three years ago an opportunity arose for her to achieve her lifetime dream of owning property for herself and the animals, it comprised of nearly 3 acres and a barn, stabling for three horses and a sizeable tack-room at one end and due to the absence of sewage or water connections the price was attainable, so with determination she went ahead and with a little help from the “ Bank of Dad “ managed to raise the deposit.

The barn now called “ Barnia “ was without a residential permit, but with her personality and determination she achieved all the necessary documentation, ( not necessarily before she moved in )!

So this is when I was summoned from my boat in September to drive the 2500 miles with the few tools in my possession to begin making the “Tack Room” in Barnia habitable, it took about three months and I’ve never been so cold in my life, the only time I felt warm was in the shower or under the electric blanket.

We sourced 90% of the material from the recycle store, only purchasing plumbing and electrical hardware new, we designed the project using the “ as you go method “, recently a septic tank has been installed together with a well.

I currently have a two month stopover in Ohio, that apart from the pleasure of staying with my daughter and satisfying her construction demands around Barnia, we have a joint project going on. Another of her dreams and I must say I rather like the idea myself, is that whatsoever is coming “down the Pike” she will never be without at home, I so we envisage a tiny home on wheels in the shape of a “ Vardo “ Gypsy caravan, so in the spring of 2019 we picked up a custom-built trailer frame I had ordered from Toronto, the project is ongoing.

Nicky’s old VW camper in which she has travelled extensively suffers with a case of terminal rust, so rather than see it scrapped it’s now situated in a prime corner on the property, this year I added a small deck, and upgrade of the accommodation for my transient accommodation

Plus the Karsie —>

As the years roll by I have settled into a pattern that seem to suit me, spending my winters hibernating on the south coast of England, a month in the Spring and Fall with Nicky and driving between the Pacific Northwest and Ohio.

Life is sweet at the moment and I’ve never been so well off in my life, one never knows how long it will last so I’m attempting to make the most of it while it does.

But I have noticed that timber is heavier and I try to avoid dropping tools, also hills are definitely becoming steeper, do you think it might be due to climate change?

Hopefully to be continued ...... Christmas 2019…….Dave.

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This is where he signed off in 2019.

Life carried on with him dividing his time between Chardon Ohio, his boat in Friday Harbour and flat in Lymington.

 He and Nikki ,with a little help from the Amish, created a beautiful apartment from the hayloft in Barnia on his Ohio stops. I had many picture and video updates of machinery my Dad was fascinated by!, They visited a fair few coffee shops together and many a cake no doubt.

He also enjoyed feeding and watching the birds on his deck whilst relaxing in his favourite chair. 

 We hope you enjoyed his story.

If you have tales of your own please feel free to share them here.  We would love to hear them.

RIP Dad, David, Captain Dave,Dave, Chicken Legs.

March 27th 1938 - May 28th 2026.