From despair to where
A long silence, I know. Back from holiday, I struggled to adjust to real life and fell into a bit of a deep funk - and not in a Parliament kind of way.Port Isaac is a pretty special place, still, despite the attention it gets because of a popular ITV prime-time drama series. The last time I was there would have been in the mid/late 80s, I think. We were in the harbourside pub and the fishermen had just accidentally caught a huge leatherback turtle in their nets.
No turtles this time...just a big old slate-covered house with a steep garden. It's been a while since I have slept so well - we did a lot of walking, so I felt pretty healthy, despite the vast amounts of tasty Cornish ice cream I consumed. I did feel rather sad while I was there, occasionally. North Cornwall was our most popular holiday spot through the 80s, so being there reminded me of family holidays, and of course, my parents.
Back in real life, the house sale appears to be drawing to a close, and I hope that contracts will be exchanged very soon. I am beginning to find the whole thing rather a drag. This weekend I'll be helping to clear the place out, which is going to be tough, but better now than later.
At home: yet more plumbing hell! We are having to totally destroy our bathroom flooring to get at the source of a leak that is damaging our neighbours' ceiling. Not. Happy.
Labels: plumbing hell
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