Saturday 29th June 2023

All good things come to an end.

And it was time to come home.

We woke at just before seven, with our flight leaving at half eleven, giving us four hours to pack our overnight stuff, have breakfast and drive the 6km to the airport.



Not even we could get lost in that short distance, could we? We had showers, got dressed, and one last sweep round the room, we went downstairs to load the car and have breakfast. I left behind my small camera bag, bought in Portland, Oregon, in 2015, and has been a great buy. But the stitching is failing now, and is uncomfortable to wear, so that'll save room.

Also left behind were my old walking shoes, too worn out now to be of much use except in a town, certainly not in a muddy wood or on a chalk down.

We had huge amounts of room.

After breakfast we followed the sat nav to the main road, then to the next junction and within just 2km of the airport, I took the wrong turn.

I will say in my defence, matching what was on the screen to what I saw out of the car was difficult, but we found ourselves in an area of industrial units, and the only way out to the airport was blocked by roadworks.

But there was a diversion.

After a few minutes of doubt, we emerged at the airport, found the hire car return and were there.

Phew.

We dropped the keys off, and went to the terminal, joining the queue at the British Airways desk. Two hours before flight time, the desks opened and we began to move, getting to the front in about 20 minutes.

No delay at security, turn left to go through immigration to have our passports stamped. And we were at the gate.

We used the last of the change to buy some snacks, then waited, watching people, at which airports offer the best people watching.

The flight was called, but we hold back. I mean we have allocated seats, so why worry? Other than to have an overhead space for my cameras. Some carry on bags are so big now they really are suitcases, just to avoid the checking in, so the race is always on to secure a space for your oversized bag or case.

We wait to get on, then I find a space for my bag down the plane, but those behind me struggle, but they all stow their bags, the engines start and the air con starts pumping. It was going to be 32 in Valencia, and was already very warm.

Doors closed, the plane pushed back, and that was that. A short taxi to the runway, engines roar, and we leap off down the runway, jumping into the air, circling low over the city before flying off across the sea.

The flight was uneventful, flying mostly above or through cloud.

Two hours later, we were above England, and on approach over Windsor Castle, preparations of the coronation are well under way, with a huge stage being set up and a village of marquees already put up. And it is the taxpayer who is footing the bill, not Charlie.

Oh no.

We land, and have to wait for a space to disembark, and when we do, we were two of the last off. But not to worry as the taxi driver was held up in traffic, so we stood on the top floor of the car park, in defiance of the signs saying no spotting, watching aircraft come and go.

The driver arrived, as we loaded the car he had a gasper, then it was all in the cab for the last leg of the journey home.

Traffic was heavy, but we only got held up in one place, and me sitting in the back seat alternated between checking the football scores and snoozing.

Either way the journey home flew, and soon we were in Kent. and getting nearer home with every mile.

At least it was a sunny day, if not warm. !3 degrees in Dover, 31 in Valencia!

We get home, there was a mountain of mail to sort through, four loads of washing to do, and someone had to go to Tesco.

I went..

It was mad, but with a scanner I was able to get round fairly quickly, and got home by half five.

We put the shopping away, and I prepare a meal similar to what we had in Spain: salad, ham, olives and wine. Lots of bread.

But we were pooped, really.

And on the tellybox, Norwich crashed to another defeat to add to the sense of gloom. One win in ten games now.

Bed at nine, chilly to be back home. But good to be in our own bed.