Homeward bound

Finally back in UK waters after a long and rather queasy journey from St Malo. Sophie is esconced in the TV room, Greg has just bought himself a set of Top Trumps, Kate is sleeping and I'm working my way through a bottomless cup of coffee.

The ferry crossing was already delayed by an hour from the previous run being held up. Then someone drove their caravan into the side of the car deck, and a rival ferry company decided to cancel a sailing to the channel islands resulting in this ship being packed to bursting with caravans and motorhomes. Departure from St Malo, which should have been a respectable 8.10pm, ended up being about quarter past ten, and our ETA in Poole is now about 2 in the morning. The seven hours between then and starting work will have to be evenly divided between sleep and driving the 160 miles between Poole and Leicester. Now you get why I'm pleased Kate was able to get to sleep.

The first half of the crossing was rather bumpy - blankets and sick bags were being handed out in equal measure by the crew. After Guernsey though the ship has been much more settled, and it's quite pleasant now: much like travelling in a very wide train carriage.

We've not been the only ones suffering travel delays today. I got a text earlier this evening from Zoe saying they'd only just got home from their trip to Prague after spending last night sleeping, or not, in the airport. Having got onto the plane for their 3pm flight to East Midlands an oil leak left them grounded until a lunchtime flight today to the less convenient Birmingham. Hope the allotment has coped all right with all of us out of the country at the same time.

I will try to post some photos from our trip while Kate drives us home. For now I can report simply that we're all in love with Brittany. Last night there was a bit of a do on Carnac plage - Sophie learned some traditional Bretton dancing, joining in with a family of locals despite having no idea what instructions were being called out by the musicians, and Greg got over a bout of tummy pain to sit on the beach and watch an excellent firework display over the bay. Sophie ended the evening by turning to Kate and asking, "Mummy, can you actually cry with happiness? This is the best day of my life ever!" She decided later that it was just the best day of her life so far - reserving the possibility that the birth of any future children might eclipse a night of folk dancing and fireworks. But if her memories of childhood holidays can maintain second place against that possible event, I will consider this aspect at least of my parenting to have been successful.

There've been some tears, and some arguments, over the past two weeks. We'd be hardly human if there hadn't been. But it's been, overall, an excellent holiday: one that leaves us with happy memories and some sense of acheivement too, whether from scraping through conversations in Carnac market using twenty-year-old schoolboy French (me) or trying out scuba diving in the campsite swimming pool (both the kids). The kids' verdict? French people are lovely and friendly, France is great, and even the food is worth going back for. A return visit to Brittany is well on the cards, but not next year: they've already spotted somewhere is Holland they want to go to for 'Family Holiday 2009'. Pity none of us speak any Dutch at all...