And…We’re Back

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Back on Cornish shores…

Because we have a newly blind elderly dog, who has shown remarkable bravery and flexibility in dealing with his disability, we decided  to make other arrangements in travelling to and from Spain. This has meant long journeys down through Brittany and back a couple of times this year and the road home is becoming an old friend, albeit a warty, boring, expensive one.

So, as we needed to get home by mid-November at the latest, we once again girded our loins and set of back through France to catch the ferry at Roscoff. Only this time we planned to do it in one day and without the caravan. It took a ┬ámammoth 13.5 hrs to do 1200km with a total stoppage time of 1.34 hrs. This would have been ten minutes less but I had a traumatic time trying to get out of a locked toilet on an Aire, to the bemusement of a very sweet Frenchman who looked most concerned when I finally broke free. Needless to say Himself, already grumpy with the cost of the tolls, was not impressed with me ‘wasting daylight’! This was then followed by a six hour, nausea inducing crossing, from Roskoff to Plymouth and 90 minutes further driving into the heart of Cornwall. Still, at least we made it home in one piece if not with all dignity intact as, unlike Himself and The Eldest (who is a Merchant Navy Professional) I am not a good sailor.

The Kids were pleased to see us. The Daughter yapped solidly for an hour without drawing breath and The Youngest, very well trained from childhood, had chilled the wine ready for me. The house was spotless, if you ignored the bathroom and toilet, where it looked as if a new life form had colonised in our absence. The dogs were ecstatic to see their human counterparts and even more so to go to sleep in a bed that was not moving forwards!

We are both spending time catching up with friends and those members of the family we like (come on admit it – there are always some family members we would rather not spend time with or talk to) and getting ready for Christmas. Oh, and Himself has bought a new motorbike. A big one.

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But I Don’t Wanna Go…

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Our time here is drawing to a close for now, later than normal, and it is getting harder and harder to leave. This year we have seen the seasons change and the snow on the Picos melt and return.

The house has undergone significant changes with the installation of a wood burner in the sitting room, the water supply sorted out, improved electricity, a new shower and a new roof. We have cleaned and decorated and have made a home.

The dogs have thoroughly enjoyed themselves and we have watched our little Girl Dog grow into a fun-filled young lady and overcome her shyness with strangers, as well as be amazed at how adaptable and downright brave our Boy Dog has been in coping with the challenges thrown in his way.

We’ve spent time with The Eldest and met his lovely girlfriend. We’ve had friends come and visit us which has enabled us to show off the wonderful Asturian countryside, beaches, mountains and people.

We’ve also travelled to France and returned briefly to England all of which has served to show us that here is where our hearts are happiest. Here we can be who we are, freed from the constraints we have made for ourselves in the UK.

However, we have to go. I have promised Himself that I won’t make a scene and cling onto the gate posts (nor sob piteously as the car heads out of Spain) but will be calm and serene secure in the knowledge that we will return in the Spring. Please?