So over the years we have spent blocks of time apart, but 18 months ago vowed that we would stop that, or at least reduce the periods we had to be apart significantly, but having added Brexit and Covid into the mix, the last 12 months has proved to be the most complicated yet. In fact it has actually has seemed to become more challenging the more time has gone on. When I left Provence 6 weeks ago, heading back to Exeter to collect our youngest from Uni, the plan was quite simple.
When I left, the signs were all good, the levels of the virus were dropping in France, vaccinations were going well we and both been double-jabbed and surely the signs were that France would move to the green list, meaning by the time Andy returned, the quarantine and tests would no longer be needed. The plan seemed sound, but we should have known better. To say that it was frustrating was an understatement! Once again we were going to have to be apart for much longer than planned and more importantly Andy would not be able to see the boys, or visit family and friends either.
We were destined to have to spend more time apart, when this had never been the plan. I hunkered down and just got on with sorting the garden out, spring-cleaning the house from top to bottom, perfecting my bread baking โฆ. I may now be able to give Andy a run for his money in a bake-off โฆ.
He spent his days cycling, pottering, reading, walking Millie and seeing friends, simply marking time and slowly but surely, ticking the days off. In the end, it has turned out to be a really tough few weeks, with the planets aligning to create an almost perfect-storm of problems, in both countries. Anyway, amidst the chaos, the time has passed and it has been so lovely to see the boys, catch up with them and learn their plans for the next few months.
So far, so good โฆ. You get a sense of place, a feeling of progression and can simply sit back and watch the countryside flash by and change as the miles pass under the rails. So here I am, just approaching Hungerford now on the first leg of the trip from Exeter to Paddington, a little town we used to visit regularly many years ago, when we lived in Wiltshire, spending a happy few hoyrs fuddling around the antique shops. I love walking through the cities, so had planned my route between the stations in London, looking forward to a gentle stroll under the warm August sun, enjoying the sights and sounds of the capital.
