Today is always the second worst day of the holiday.
Today we pack and try to clean the house. The latter is always a problem, and I always have trouble getting Herself to do it properly.
Tomorrow [the worst day] we load the car and hit the road. We have an overnight stop in Caen, and while I know they have the Interweb there, I have a problem with adapters – I don’t have any. So you probably won’t hear from me then.
Sunday we mooch around Cherbourg and then board the ferry. The ferry has Interweb but you have to pay through the nose for it. You definitely won’t hear from me then. We should be home sometime around Monday afternoon, God and bribable custom’s officers willing. I’ll probably be too knackered to use the Interweb so you may not hear from me then.
There are a few things I am looking forward to about going home.
The main thing is greeting Sandy.
Then there is my armchair with its personalised arse shaped indent which makes afternoon naps so cozy.
Playing tennis with Sandy.
I’m also looking forward to just being in my own place where I don’t have to worry about nagging Herself to keep it tidy.
I suppose I have to include the family?
Playing chess with Sandy.
An Interweb connection that doesn’t suffer from PMT.
Having a bit of craic down the pub.
Decent tea bags.
Did I mention Sandy?
What will I miss?
The warmth. It’s building up to midday here and the sun is cracking the rocks. Beautiful. It’s going to be a real scorcher. Again.
Driving. I’ll miss the excellent road system and the almost complete lack of traffic. We were in a fairly big town yesterday and didn’t get stuck in traffic at all, simply because there wasn’t any.
The water pressure. I swear I could fill an Olympic swimming pool in five minutes flat from the pressure here.
The boulangeries. Fuck but this lot know how to bake bread and delicious wee savories.
To be honest, the only reason we are starting back tomorrow is because I have the ferry booked and paid for.
I suppose there is always next year?