Poole

This is blog 44 of our trip. And what a trip. Where had we been these last few weeks? There were times when we thought Marge wouldn't make it, but she proved us wrong. Thank you, ye of little faith. Sorry Marge.

Keen to make the most of our last day we sorted ourselves out in record time and arrived in the nearby coastal village of Barfleur just after eleven. Right coffee anyone? Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't you? Yes, Marge. It is our last day. Sitting by the harbour whilst the tide crept in unnoticed, in no rush to leave the small town which is famous for being the spot where William the conqueror set sail for England in 1066.

After a walk around the narrow streets and onto the stone covered beach to collect scallop shells, we bought our last baguette of this trip and moved Marge to a spot behind the sea wall where there were lots of other vans. The waves rolled in and the swallows swooped in the clear sky. The sun gained heat and we soaked up as much of it as we could. 

With just twenty miles to drive to Cherbourg we chose to travel the coastal route, a road we've cycled many times. The waters of the channel a green blue sparkling in the afternoon sun. You would have thought we were by the Mediterranean. Cherbourg would be the end of the road for us, Marge and our trusty tea towel which has accompanied us all over France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. Threadbare didn't really describe it. Thank god, that thing's an embarrassment. So are you sometimes Marge!

At a quarter to three we arrived in Cherbourg. Marge had landed under her own steam. Charming. You were ready to give up on me, weren't you? We were just worried about you Marge. Now let's fill up your fuel tank. How much! 

At six fifteen the Brittany Ferries vessel Barfleur slipped its mooring. As always when we leave France Angela had a tear in her eye. We'd travelled just over two thousand miles, eaten around thirty-five baguettes, spent £133.00 on overnight accommodation, which equated to just over £3.00 per night. Eaten more pate and camembert than we should have, developed a passion for apple lattice, met lots of interesting people and seen some amazing places. Oh, and as for you Marge, we've spoiled you with over £600 of only the best diesel. 

The car ferry berthed in Poole at nine forty-five and we were home by ten twenty-five.

The next morning at home our garden was a blaze of colour, the spring bulbs Angela planted in October bursting forth wild and crazy taking over the raised beds. They looked great. The last six weeks had flown by. That aside, there is so much more to see. It would be a great shame if we didn't experience our own country and others that laid beyond our shores before it is too late, which is why we have returned home planning to do just that, setting off again in a couple of weeks' time, if our poorly car is up to it. If not, we'll be calling on you Marge once you've been checked over. To our followers, we hope you've enjoyed accompanying us and Marge on our travels.

Cheers until next time!