Coming home … almost but not quite to Narnia!

Yesterday we left Figueira da Foz bathed in early morning sunshine. 

A lift had been organised to take us to Porto airport, scheduled to arrive at our hotel at 8.00 am. 8.00 arrived and no car materialised. Just as we began to be concerned a car turned up, not the scheduled vehicle but the private car of our designated driver. He had been unable to collect the car we would travel in as it was locked in a garage at his place of work! After a short discussion he agreed to give us a lift to his works garage where we waited for about 20 minutes for his colleague to turn up and unlock the garage! Fun and games!

Phil dozed in the back while the driver chatted to me about anything and everything. However, I still have no idea what his name is! I must find out for next year and also improve my Portuguese instead of relying on his good English. 

As a rule I enjoy time spent in Porto airport; it’s not too big, not too crowded and has a pleasing collection of small shops and restaurants. We usually manage a light lunch or at least coffee and a croissant while waiting for our gate to be announced. Yesterday, the information and the instruction ‘go to gate’ appeared almost as soon as we were in the main concourse.

So we duly ‘went to gate’ and waited … and waited … and waited. For well over an hour! Had we known that nothing serious was going to happen and that there were precious few facilities on that side of this final passport control we would have remained in the main concourse a while longer. But there we were, with only a measly coffee in a paper cup and an egg, cheese and ham bagel to sustain us!

Eventually we boarded, the plane took off, and we arrived at Manchester airport in a rain storm!

Then we tramped for what seemed like miles from arrivals to the railway station (making up for steps we had not counted up earlier in the day) where we hopped on a train to Manchester Piccadilly. Actually it was going all the way to Edinburg but its first stop suited us fine. A tram took is to Ashton where our daughter kindly collected us. This was a much faster airport to home journey than the occasion when we made the mistake of catching a tram from the airport to Manchester Victoria, chugging along slowly and seeming to stop every couple of hundred yards along the way! You live and learn.

This morning I woke to sunshine, mostly blue sky, snow on the distant hills,

the ford on my running route overflowing,

a fallen tree blocking another section of my route,

and a temperature hovering around -1°. Yes! -1° !! And it’s forecast to get colder. Roads going from here to Yorkshire and Derbyshire have already had problems with snow! 

Storm Claudia has apparently gone on her wicked way but Winter appears to have moved in. 

The aftermath of a holiday always involves washing and putting away the clothes you took with you. I also took a bus-ride to Tesco to replenish our supplies of … just about everything.

We’re home! 

Oh, and here is cartoon by Sempé (see yesterday’s post), which I dedicate to male friends who have described participating in teacher-bating events of this kind.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!