Some holidays are sad to say goodbye to, but I wasn't sad this time. I hadn't made any fond memories of the chalet, although it had been a good place for sleeping. Nick and I spent the morning with his parents. They caught up on the village and family gossip, while I did a bit of writing. When we got married, Nick's Mum told me that she wanted to be a good mother-in-law and not like the Les Dawson caricature. Both she and Nick's Dad have always been fantastic, and I love them both. When I met them, they were a middle aged couple. Now, they are an elderly couple, and we are middle aged. I worry that we should spend more time with them. they sent us off with bellies full of sausage sandwiches, a bag of small gifts, and money to give the children.
We drove home to number 13 of the Collings & Herrin podcasts, Billy Bragg, and The Killers. I got away with all of this because Nick Slept for a couple of hours. His choice was Joy Division, which I tuned out, my mind on the writing plot. Towards the end of the journey, we played some Morrissey and agreed that his work has gone down hill. I imagine that Morrissey will be pained if he hears about our views, but maybe more pained that a pair of fat forty-something uncreatives are listening.
The house was still standing when we arrived, the kids seem to have behaved themselves and been happy. I had the peaceful feeling of being glad to be home. Nina borrowed Dave Gorman's old Dave Gorman Collection DVD which I had never seen, so we enjoyed it together, and felt like family.
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