I would like to tell you that we’ve arrived back home, the caravan has been emptied and cleaned, all of its contents are back in the house, I’ve done wash load after wash load, gotten our belongings out of store from the man cave, our clothes are back in the dressing room and we’re ship shape.

But I can’t! After doing a runner from a start up campsite we aimed for Camping Vallee de la Selune, Normany, which was the first campsite we stopped at on the way out. The first day of our trip was spent exploring Mont-Saint-Michel back in October 2020 so we have done a full circle(ish).

Camping Vallee de la Selune is run by Dave, who Steve nicknamed Chatty Dave for an obvious reason, who was more than pleased to see us back. We asked if we could stay until Sunday when we aimed to get a ferry back home and of course the answer was ‘of course’! This was welcome news to hear as it was Monday 5th October and most French campsites close at the end of September. Luckily Chatty Dave, who has run his campsite for 27 years makes his own rules which is somewhat reflected on his Tripadvisor Reviews. Here are Steve and Dave catching up.

Whilst at the campsite we met a great couple Nicolet and CJ from Holland, travelling in their motorhome staying for the same week that we were.

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Speaking perfect English, we exchanged lots of stories with an informal arrangement to meet at 5 at the bar each evening. We did want to go out for a meal together, but nothing was open locally. That, of course, didn’t stop us! We shared meals and Chatty Dave prepared a tapas selection for all of us on our last night, before final pack down and travel to Caen to catch the Sunday afternoon ferry. Naturally, when anyone asks us to strike a pose, we do! That’s not CJ to Nicolet’s side but one of Chatty Dave’s friends known as Scooter Pete (go figure!). CJ was the photographer.

During our year, we had crossed 10 borders or so, each without major arrangements or requirements. Sometimes we required Covid tests and sometimes they were free or very cheap. The most expensive country for Covid tests was France except for one. The most difficult and most expensive border crossing was back to the UK. Checking various websites, we needed, prepared and printed out as much as we could, rather than faff about on mobiles:

• Certificates of Covid Negative tests with QR codes for each of us
• Certificate of Travel from France to the UK with a good reason for leaving
• Passenger Locator Form for each of us to enter the UK
• Pre-booked and paid for Covid Tests in the UK for Day 2 and Day 8, as we were not vaccinated – they weren’t available when we departed last year
• Stella’s Spanish Pet Passport up to date with jabs
• Our Passports
• Our Ferry Booking

Packed up, walkie talkies at the ready checking all the rear lights on the caravan worked, we were waived off by Nicolet, CJ and Chatty Dave, as we left the final campsite stop of our year’s adventure, where it had all began. The year had passed so unbelievably quickly.

We captured being sent on our way by Nicolet, CJ and Chatty Dave on our dash cam. The noise in the background is our not very happy Poacher engine. Keep going old girl, keep going. The car not me!

We drove to Caen without problem, getting there a little early, without an immigrant in sight or worry of an unwanted passenger.

Happily, all of our paperwork, printed out in our mobile office in the caravan, was in order. We hadn’t forgotten anything and formalities over we boarded the Mont-St-Michel Ferry. The Ferry holds 2,200 passengers but I doubt there were more than 200. The engine sounding no better, more like a lolly stick stuck in a fan.

Whilst Stella had to stay in the caravan for the duration of the crossing, we had to find a way to while away 6 hours on the ferry, departing 4:30pm scheduled to arrive 9:15pm. Heading straight to the bar we watched the entertainment. Unfortunately for the performers the ferry was quite empty and the audience was sparse but they were professional troupers and kept us entertained. Thank you Daniel and Lexi. Apologies to Steve as I always forget to distance.

We arrived Portsmouth, checked which side of the road to drive, and made it home to our drive playing Ronnie Lane’s The Poacher. The poignancy is that this is the tune we played at Steve’s 60th birthday party to end the evening when he and Teddy hugged like only two men who’ve known for a long time, can. Steve used to be the DJ in Teddy’s pub and they used to go fishing together in Ireland, even catching and setting a joint Rudd record, so they had quite a long standing friendship. It’s their tune.

Eventually, just before midnight, we arrived, not at the house, just the drive. You see our wonderful tenant Gail invited us to stay on our own drive at our own home until the expiry of her tenancy which is next Saturday 23rd October. It works out really well as campsites in France close at the end of September, which is why we were fortunate to stay with Chatty Dave. Gail has organised a welcome back party for us on the 22nd, she formally moves out on the 23rd and on Sunday 24th we move back in. To say I can’t wait would be a total understatement.

If we could do a turnaround and spend another Winter in the sun, we wouldn’t hesitate, but until Brexit sorts itself out we dance to the 90 out of 180 Schengen shuffle.

My thanks to Steve who did all the accident free driving, and carried out all of his blue duties without fail. I would never have done this trip or thought about it without him. And, he couldn’t have done it without me because there will have been no-one to stick their head out of the window, check the traffic and yell ‘GO’.

This is my final post on our Big Year Adventure, our arrival back home, but settling back in and how our life has changed will hopefully follow more quickly that it took to publish this post.

Arriving home – well, in the drive!

https://youtu.be/afWgfJ3DYzU

View from the living room window

The last post

Well we’re back in our house and free to leave. Ten days of isolation, parked up in our caravan-car-port, sitting in our drive and garden, and drinking wine under our gazebo. Does seem a bit ridiculous, the UK is a threat to us, not us to the UK. Covid cases are three times worse than when we left, people have been locked down, living under all sorts of impositions, we’ve been sitting in cafes, bars, beaches, climbing mountains, rambling over ruins, socialising (sensibly) and nowhere have the numbers been so high and sustained as the UK. Just to add insult to injury, every other border we’ve crossed has been an antigen test (between free and 28 Euros) and we’re over. The UK one involved more paperwork, locators, declarations than we’ve done in a year, and then it was £90 each on top for the day 2/8 tests, and could have been a lot more ! And to boot we got calls from the government reminding us of the criminal offense should we dare step outside our garden.

First impressions were that nothing’s changed, but after a few days it’s obvious it’s got worse. Prices have rocketed, diesel is in short supply apparently (although I’ve got 20 litres of French Diesel for emergencies, and some Montenegrin 2 stroke for the mower). Anyway, lawn’s mowed. We got first dose of vaccine on our first day of freedom, and on our second Gail our tenant organised a party for us, which as you can imagine was ever so slightly organised by Blanche, so ended up as a four piece band on our front garden, barbeque, and much merriment on a cold and dark October evening.

Stella’s settled, she remembered to get her cup for feeding time, bring slippers in the morning, attempt to catch a Salamanca squirrel, and do all those things that a Labrador needs in its routines. She even jumped into Brenda’s car, expecting a walk, and it took two grown men to physically extract her, so excited was she to be back, and has almost forgotten that she’s got a Spanish passport now. (due to Brexit long story!)

We’re catching up on family and friends, and excuse us if we don’t get round to your place in the immediate future, we do need your drive measurements though, were doing the longest drives first. The new grandchild Loe is a cute little bundle, George and Lydia made it for the band, with new found levels of maturity, and it’s so good to be entertaining again, albeit we’ve noticed its two or three times the price for a bottle of wine than we’ve been used to.

On a final and hopefully humorous note it’s strange to be in a house again. I feel we’ve been transported to Lilliput, like Gulliver there’s a strange sense of disproportionality. I go to make tea, the kettle is three times bigger that the low wattage caravan one and boils immediately. The huge toaster takes 4 slices, and actually toasts not dries the bread. Cheese graters are no longer the size of a playing card. We can walk into the fridge, play table tennis on the dining room table, the bed is the size of a football field and there’s more than two rooms.

We didn’t realise it, but over the last year we have perfectly miniaturised our and lifestyle, and implements.

We’ve unpacked, all is back in order, but ready for further downsizing, we don’t need stuff, except maybe the PA, Records, Fishing and Camping gear, and of course Blanches hair straighteners at a pinch.

Clothes are hanging on rails, more than two towels are at our disposal, and I can now choose from an array of clothing, rather than the four T shirts that made it back, one as yet unworn, I was saving that for best !

Ciao from both of us, we’ll be back on the road soon no doubt x