Why is it that when we get to bed late we always seem to wake early to compensate? At least it gave us time to pack all our stuff, lose one or two important items and then find them again several times, and give the place a bit of a once-over before setting off to bid our fond farewells.
It was actually a very civilised ten-thirty before we finally found ourselves full of coffee and barrelling down the motorway in direction Lagarde, cruise control set at one-three-zero, and barely another car on the road. While motorway tolls are said to be relatively expensive we console ourselves with the thought that on a per kilometre basis if the same toll were to be applied to the Gateway Bridge, it would cost about thirty cents to cross.
I have marvelled at the efficiency of the system before, and hadn’t finished marvelling this time after five and a bit hours on the road counting a couple of rest stops, when we arrived to begin our trail of fond helloes.
First there were snacks with Jacques and Maggie, then dinner with Grahame and Aileen, after all it was still “eat with your neighbour weekend” so it would have been rude to avoid them.
The boat looked as though it had spent a hard winter under some sort of animal pen, and the inside still packed for winter but with our travel gear half unpacked resembled a small recycling transfer station, so we cleared the corner of it which had our bed in it, and decided that tomorrow we would be up with the sun and into sorting out the mess.
None of it mattered though, we are home.
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