On the move again

A typically lousy night before travelling: I was awake before 02:00, despite not needing to be until 05:30.  We're always the same.  Still, we'd time to relax at Folkestone, Eurotunnel having cancelled our shuttle, and despatched the next one late.  But since we practise a two-hor shift pattern on long trips, we each get a chance to snooze.  Of the journey, more anon.

The last few days have been quite busy, with the obvious stuff like getting the laundry and garden as up-to-date as possible.  I'm not sure how the very young climbing courgette seedlings will take to being potted up and plonked out in the cold frame after their cosseting indoors in the propagator.  But the fuchsia plug plants have come along well, and now hardened off a bit, ought to be OK outdoors.  At which rash comment, along comes a cold snap.  The weather was good enough for me at least to get the grass cut, to plant out the primulas from containers to borders, and to get a few nurtured perennials into their new homes.

Meanwhile, I'd rashly fixed a get together with a former colleaguie who was visiting London on business from his base in Botswana.  We met for afternoon tea in The Canteen at the Royal Festival Hall, and reminisced until we were hoarse.  We worked out that we hadn't met for fully 32 years, so could have chewed the fat until midnight.  Great to share some memories, and news of mutual friends.  Less fun was the crowded rush-hour train home, though.  I'm glad I don't have to do that every day, and more so that Martyn could do the station shuttle for me.

As for today's journey, we had a mix of weather, including thundery sleet showers as we approached Paris, some fine sunny views in the north and also south of the Loire.  We arrived a bit later than usual at our regular Auvergne flophouse, thanks to long spells of rain, countless lots of roadworks and a couple of rather spectacular accidents.  Just north of Orléans, a car appeared to have rolled, leaving a lot of debris across the roadway, along with an alarming amount of reddish sawdust...  Another had finished up on its roof in the ditch somewhere in the soporific Sologne.  In view of the appalling standard of driving we've seen today, spectacular accidents come as no surprise.  The good news is that the Ateca is refined, responsive and frugal at motorway speeds (though the north wind can't have hurt).  But I can't remember how to reset the clock, and the handbook is precious little help...