The Journey Home

Sound filled the room at 3am this morning, rousing me from fitful dreams and causing me to stumble across the room to reach the phone it was coming from. After squinting at the words and fumbling with the screen for a few moments, silence reigned again, and I rubbed my eyes. Half an hour later I had woken the children, had a shower, gathered our things together, and sat along with everybody else, wondering what to do until the airport transfer coach arrived a little after 4am.

We double and triple checked the passports, and made sure my other half had downloaded the flight confirmation to her phone. We finally made our way out into the darkness of the mediterranean morning, and gathered at the pre-designated place for the coach to emerge from the darkness. While making conversation with each other, we watched bats and stag beatles fly around nearby street lights. I looked at my watch and realised that 3am had been 2am at home – and debated the rest of the day with my other half – to go home and sleep, or to go home and attempt to stay awake. That these words are appearing on the internet signals that we have stayed awake – or at least attempted to.

Aside from my other half totally and utterly freaking out (which is normal – she is petrified of flying), the flight passed without incident. I sat next to Miss 17, and my other half sat with the younger children, who had taken turns on the outward and homeward trips to have the window seat. Guess who lost his new hoodie (bought expressly for the journey home) to Miss 17 at the airport – it didn’t occur to her to pack anything other than t-shirts for the last week. I very much doubt I will get it back.

We departed a little after 8am, and landed back in the UK an hour later. After rendezvousing with the taxi driver for the transfer home, we slumped into the back of a Mercedes van and struggled to stay awake. Two of the children flaked out within minutes of setting off.

The remainder of the day has been a bit of a slog – getting home, washing clothes, cleaning (fruit had been left in the bowl in the kitchen – causing a biblical fruit-fly infestation), going grocery shopping, and generally bringing the house back online.

At the time of writing it’s just gone 6pm in the evening, and I’m struggling to stay awake. There are so many stories to tell of the last week, but I want to do them justice – so they will have to wait.

I fear I may not make it much past 7pm. Somehow Miss 13 has been awake since 3am, and is doing fine – I’m not entirely sure how.

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