We are on the taxi rank.
The holiday is over.
I don’t really mind this, apart from the washing. There is lots and lots of this, because of sheets and towels and similar items, all of which is the inevitable consequence of a week away.
I don’t mind because I like being back in our house. We have got a lovely comfortable bed and a beautiful bathroom. We have got these things in the camper van as well, but it is nice to have a change. I thought about it when we came home this afternoon, and thought how wonderful it is to be happy with life wherever we are, how awful to dread coming home.
Also it was rather nice to be reunited with the dogs, who barked their heads off when we came in, as if we were burglars, and then ignored us and went back to sleep on the sofa, so they must have had a nice time with the Number Two Daughters.
We were on the beach at Blackpool when we woke up this morning, and opened our eyes to the astonishing discovery that it was raining.
It has not rained for weeks. Blackpool usually has a grassy strip along the front of the promenade, but it has gone now, dried to a sandy yellow by the incessant sun. I had not realised quite how much the rain washes everything clean until now. The pavements have been sticky, the railings on the promenade caked with guano, and the camper van has been coated in the black grime that plagues us in the house during the summer months.
When we were in Istanbul, the authorities came through the city and hosed all the streets down before everybody got up every morning, and I suppose that if we were a drier country we would do the same, but of course since we do not have very many hot summers, it is a bit like investing in snowploughs when you are not Norway. There is just not enough weather to make it worth the bother.
The rain this morning seemed beautiful. The air was cool, and damp, and smelled sweet and clean instead of leaving a dusty taste in the mouth. We sat in bed with coffee for ages, and watched the raindrops splashing on to the parched ground, and for the first time ever it seemed to be magical.
It did not rain for very long, and by the time we had eaten breakfast it had faded to a fine mist, which we thought would not stop us from going out. We went for a walk on the beach and jumped in and out of little waves, and collected interesting stones. We put all of these back before we left, not because of qualms about the environment, but because we have already got hundreds of interesting stones brought back from previous trips to beaches, and we think that perhaps we would like to declutter a bit, or at least refrain from cluttering any more.
In the camper van I sorted the fridge out whilst everybody else puzzled over a Verbal Reasoning Test.
Oliver has got to do one of these for Gordonstoun, and nobody knew what they were, so we looked them up on the mighty Internet.
They turned out to be little puzzles that you have got to think about and follow the instructions carefully.
Everybody enjoyed them very much. They covered sheets and sheets of paper with laborious workings-out, and squabbled enthusiastically about whether Jim had more than Maureen if Maureen had twice what George had got but less than Henry.
I cooked some burgers and listened contentedly. They are all terribly competitive, and I was not sorry to be too busy to join in.
In the end we packed up and headed for home.
We stopped on the way at B & Q for some paint, because the children are going to paint their bedrooms some time soon.
That will be good. It will be nice to have everywhere feeling fresh and clean again.
It is good to be home.
Have a photograph from our holidays. Oliver is the one in the blue hat.
