Offloaded

And so we are home.

Home in an on the taxi rank sort of way, you might not be surprised to hear.

We collected the dogs from Lucy’s house, where they had forgotten who we were, and barked at us until they remembered, after which they were embarrassed, and grinned toothy grins at us, sheepishly.

Getting ourselves home and settled took all of the rest of the day.

I don’t quite know how we managed that. There seems to be a very lot of faffing about involved in a homecoming. I always imagine strolling in to the house and looking around it with satisfaction and thinking how lovely it is to be back, but of course what actually happens is quite different.

What actually happens is that we lug half a ton of luggage and recent purchases into the conservatory, which fills it. Then the dogs mill about excitedly under our feet and need feeding and emptying and to be reassured that we are still happy to be dog-owners, which we usually are, depending on how well they have behaved in the car and whether or not they have rolled in anything nasty in our absence.

Then there is the unpacking, with piles of things to be sorted through and put away in cupboards, and the holiday shopping, which has to be inspected whilst you try and remember why on earth you thought you might need a one of those, and where the heck you are going to put it now. Then of course there is the perennial laundry.

There is always a lot of that.

There was a very lot of unpacking because I did not start packing until just before we left, and then just flung more or less everything that we owned into the suitcase in a frantic panic. It weighed so much that Mark could hardly drag it out of the car park, and when we got into the hotel we just we dumped it with the concierge to be brought up to our room on a trolley.

We had packed for every conceivable kind of weather, pretty much including torrential rain and snowstorms, and then purchased some more clothes during our holiday. Number One Daughter had given me a voucher for some new dungarees, which I spent, and then wore the new dungarees instead of the old familiar ones. This is always a brave thing to do. New things are scary and I would not have liked to have put them on without being sure that I had a back-up pair of safe ones on hand just in case I couldn’t bear them for any longer than breakfast and had to dash back up to our room and peel them off in a hurry.

Fortunately that did not happen this time. This time I wore a soft, comfortable pair of new dungarees, and to my relieved satisfaction I liked them very much, so everything was all right.

Breakfasts in the hotel were jolly good, by the way. They have instantly outdone the Midland because the Midland has stopped its breakfast waitresses serving coffee at the tables and installed a horrible instant coffee machine which I loathe.

The Clocktower hotel staff bring the coffee, and somehow manage to sound pleased to be doing it. I have got no idea how they manage this, they are all as cheery as the staff at Disneyland if you are wearing as badge that says It’s My Birthday. I don’t believe anybody could bear to wear one of those for longer than about twenty minutes. That is as long as anybody can stand everybody who passes saying Wow! That’s so amazing! Have a really, really great day!

The staff at the Clocktower seem to have attended the same hospitality course. It is very impressive. I consider myself to be offering first class customer service if I manage not to tell somebody that I think they are a prat. I am afraid I am not always successful at this.

We put the laundry on and dragged everything else up to the loft to be put away, and then sat with a companionable cup of tea and cleaned our shoes, as a shiny present for ourselves next time we go anywhere. We wrapped them in tissue and put them away in their boxes ready for next time, and pegged the washing in the garden even though it was the end of the afternoon.

We sighed with relief and came out to work. Somehow we even managed to be late.

It has been the most splendid few days, but I am not sorry that they are over.

It is lovely to be back.