"We have lots of plans for an autumn trip, which one comes to fruition depends upon the Hunter Close house sale. There is an offer on it, but until contracts are exchanged there are no guarantees. Plan A is to drive through Corsica and Sardinia then return via Lake Garda and the Tyrol. For that to work-in with campsite closing dates we would need to be across the channel by mid-September. Not sure things are going happen so quickly. A later departure date would mean some permutation of our plan B which involves a trip down Western France to San Sebastian then across the southern foothills of the Pyrenees to the Costa Brava. Somehow in all of this we need to schedule a visit to Lisbon to see Sarah and Rob, who will be settled into their flat there by early October. If the Hunter sale has been completed by early October we will drive the moho to the Algarve and take the train from Faro to Lisbon. If we need to come home earlier because the house is still on the market we will head back to the UK by early November then fly out to Lisbon in early December for a long weekend. So, a more succinct way of putting all of that is, actually we have no bloody idea what we are going to do!"
A further week of Buxton - chilly-dull interspersed with drizzle, momentary flickers of sunlight interspersed with thundery downpours - cabin fever rages. Luckily our sad, meaningless existence has been brightened up by visits from two of our kids. Laura arrived a couple of weeks ago for a day or two. We managed a walk up to Solomon's Temple in-between the showers.
When the sun comes out Buxton can be lovely. Sadly that happens on less occassions than anywhere else in the country apart from perhaps Lerwick. We've arranged to have our house valued.
Laura is moving apartment in London so we gave her a lift back. The journey was atrocious, taking almost seven hours, due to a series of minor accidents on the M25 which brought the traffic to a complete stop every time. Our visit co-incided with London's wettest August day since the Roman invasion. Apart from getting soaked while packing the car with Laura's belongings we have returned home with most of them. Her need to de-clutter results in our house's re-cluttering. It does not seem fair, particularly as we are countenancing a move next Spring.
The last time we took Laura to London we drove there and back in one day. I concluded I was too old for 400 mile round trips.We booked the cheapest Travelodge we could find. It happened to be in rural Bedfordshire near the M1. Well, a year ago it would have been in rural Bedfordshire, it transpires that the villages north of Bedford itself have been designated as 'garden villages' ripe for development to solve the nation's housing shortage. The view from our window once would have been pastoral rolling acres, the acres still roll - with an enormous half-built Barratt estate stretching as far as the eye can see. Gill seemed quite taken with the view, watching the brickies at work and admiring the skill and artistry of their hod wielding. All the while over a brunch-bar breakfast we moaned like buggery about our Burger King supper of the previous evening.
It's years and years since we ate at a fast food place. We were forced into Burger King because the food at the main cafeteria looked as if it had been re-heating since lunch. We wondered about a salad from M&S Food - the sensible choice - but for some reason we decided that a hot meal was essential. Big mistake. The Burger King food, though not actually hazardous to health, was so tasteless and mediocre I wondered if ditching the food and munching the packaging might have been a more delicious option. The place was utterly god forsaken; staff and customers alike resembled rejects from an audition for Shaun of the Dead II. So appalling was the experience that the Greggs next door seemed like an alluring prospect.
The day after we returned home Sarah and Rob arrived for a visit. It may be their last before they head to Lisbon in September. Between the showers we managed a couple of walks. The Pennines do not really do summer. At best sunny days in August feel like mid-May or early October elsewhere. The cloudscapes can be magnificent and watching their shadows scud across the viridian hillsides holds an endless fascination.
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| Gill manages a Leprechaun impression. |
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| Cloud watching |