I am finally home (later than advertised) but my body is in shock. When we left the south of England spring had definitely sprung and shorts had even made an appearance (not on me, I hasten to add). 600 miles and 12 hours later and we were driving through thick snow and the car's temperature gauge was reading minus 5 - this on the day the clocks were going forward for British Summer Time. Um hello? Summer? The snow in the garden has melted today but even so...
The dogs are looking round at the bare concrete floors and wishing they hadn't left their winter coats all over the PIL's nice carpets and the part whippet is shivering reproachfully as if to ask why we haven't got any of those nice warm white things on the walls like the PIL.
Good question (I grew rather fond of them myself) and one I intend to ask the husband only he has disappeared to the airport to fly south already, faster than I can say 'So whose idea was it to buy a renovation project again?'
In the mean time I have moved my computer next to the Aga (only source of heat) and am planning on staying in the kitchen until Spring follows me up to the Highlands.
I promise a more writery post once I've acclimatised.
P.S. Oh but it is nice to be home at last, being cold aside :-)