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Time flies! Suddenly I find that it's over a week since we travelled back to the UK. 

Our booked Chunnel crossing was at 0950 last Sunday. We left Bergues at 0700 and were checked in at Eurotunnel by 0750 having been offered (and accepted) a place on the 0850 shuttle. However, when we arrived at the queuing lanes for boarding a few minutes later we found the gate open and an arrow telling us to proceed, so we did. I'm pretty sure we found ourselves on the 0750 shuttle, which had been delayed by a coach having got wedged in a doorway. We watched as it inched back and forth seemingly endlessly, until it finally extracted itself, making room for us. A couple of minutes after we boarded, we were off. We were back in the UK about an hour and a half before we were due to leave France. 

If it hadn't been for the lunch date with younger son and grandchildren (and the small matter of the pesky Schengen rules), it would have been tempting, within half an hour of hitting UK soil, to turn around and head for Spain. This was not the weather we wanted:

Windscreen wipers on crazy speed, spray a-go-go and dark as if it was twenty minutes beyond sunset.

Lunch was expensive and disappointing and the service was awful. Two days later we went to Wetherspoons where we had better food for a third of the price and with good service.

It was late by the time we got home, so Bertie was left as he was, for unpacking on Monday. That we did, but nothing got put away. Tuesday morning came around and we were still in bed (because it was still early!), just about to get up and go for a run, when the phone rang. It was the central heating technician (our boiler broke again back in July and despite efforts, it wasn't fixed before we went away) asking if it would be okay if he came around forty-five minutes hence. Panic stations!

The kitchen was presentable by the time he arrived. The rest of the house was very much not. Five days on and the boiler is still broken. It's a good money saving situation, but not so great from the point of view of comfort. Still, at least we have two vehicles that are fitted with heating, and one with a shower. 

Other points from this week:

My first run back in the UK (something of a mud-fest), I had two dogs (separately) run at and around me, ignoring their owners' shouts. That was 100% of the dogs that I encountered. In the preceding two months in Germany (a country with perhaps even greater dog ownership than the UK) we had not one single dog approach us. I've commented before that the norm in most places in Germany is that dogs are kept on leads or under close control, and when the owner sees you coming, they will ensure the dog is on the opposite side of them, firmly to heel, or stopped. 

When in town on Wednesday, stood with one toe on the road at a zebra crossing, a car cut straight across us. In two months in Germany not once did we have to stop at a zebra crossing; every single time we approached one (and there are a lot of such crossings in Germany) the traffic would stop in anticipation. German drivers clearly have it well drummed into them that bikes and pedestrians have right of way, and they abide by that rule. They also stop at junctions with side roads where there are no crossings (as also became the requirement in the UK earlier this year), although as a Brit I couldn't bring myself to just walk across the road to claim the right of way, each time waiting until the vehicle had stopped for me.

Rose tinted glasses, of course. I'm sure there are lots of negative things about life in Germany of which we, as tourists, are blissfully unaware. 

I ran along the canal on Wednesday. Just one muddy wallow, but it has been allowed to grow rather more wild than is the norm. It was more like a trail run than a tow-path. A triumph that I only got nettled once.

From this morning, lots of mud around, but no water in the ford.