At Waitrose this morning, I chatted with the woman with the two dogs. I told her we were heading back to Sweden tomorrow. I said that I’d hoped I’d see her so she wouldn’t think I’d suddenly died. Or been abducted by aliens. When I explained we were driving home, she told me about her holiday last year.
She and her husband drove to a wedding in Tuscany. His stepdaughter was getting married and, rather than just fly over and back, they decided to make it a big road trip.
They drove across France, entering Italy via the Alps. They visited Como and Florence and many other places. She said it was the best trip she’d ever been on. I told her how much I loved Florence and we agreed that Lake Como is a truly beautiful place.
I’m going to miss our chats. While I say a lot of hellos at the ICA, it’s not like I actually chat for any length of time. Well, unless I run into Jim the Poodle Man or Handyman Harald.
Anyway, having shopped for the few things we needed for tonight and the journey, I headed back to the house, trolley in tow. I’m going to miss the trolley. It’s a bit bigger than mine in Trosa and has a pattern on it. It’s also the first time we’ve stayed somewhere that actually had a trolley. It saved me trawling the charity shops for one.
Walking through the backstreets, I realised there was one thing I wouldn’t miss about Lymington: The dominance of machine over man. This street scene is typical.
Back at the house, I made a vague attempt at organising things before tomorrow while Mirinda went and had her hair done before joining Sophie for a final lunch together at their favourite pub.
And it didn’t rain. I hope I have the same weather for packing the car tomorrow.
