In England we again had no stops, but the roads outside the terminal were heavily congested with trucks stacked up for miles, both moving and stationary - all trying to get to France. As far back as Ashford the traffic was stationary or slow moving with police controlling access. We thanked our luck that we were not attempting to go to France that day.
Tim was very well behaved both coming and going. He saw the vet in France without a qualm and was passed as all clear. The charge was 49 euros, which I think DH said worked out at about £27. Tim must have remembered last year, for he seemed to recognise the mill when we turned into the long drive, and he certainly knew when he was with a mile or two of home!
In two days we've moved from 37 degrees C to 17 degrees C and it feels cold here! I stood in my kitchen last night and wondered where I kept everything. Knives? Forks? Where were they? Pans? I was so attuned to the kitchen at the mill that it took a real thought process to recall where things were. I woke up wondering why I was on the wrong side of the bed, and then remembered: in France I sleep on the left, in England I sleep on the right. A bit like the driving, really. In reverse, of course, in case you are wondering.
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