This is a rather nice - especially since only taken with a mobile phone - photo of sunset over the sea from Ulrome, taken in September this year. Tomorrow - Monday - we travel up (God willing) to clear the caravan - a caravan we've had since 1988, on a site we've been on since 1980. Since then - when Elaine was pregnant with Andrew - we've holidayed on the same site three to five weeks a year, every year. And we've never got bored.
Now, the caravan is old and tired and we just cannot afford a replacement. If we could, it would make no sense to place it on a site that is at least five hours' drive away. So, reluctantly, we've taken the decision to sell the caravan - for a pittance - and leave the site behind.
It won't be easy. It has so many memories, almost all of them happy. (One or two miserable ones when Elaine was at the lowest point in her first illness.) Memories of Jo and Andy as children. Memories of Mum and Dad and a generosity that daily seems to me to be more amazing than I'd ever realised. Memories of arriving at 'the van' to find the fridge stuffed with chocolate (have you seen my figure?) It's hard to believe it's over. And I don't imagine, really, that we'll ever get back there.
And though I try to sit light to 'things', I'm a softy, too. It will be heart-wrenching to leave. Thank you, Lord, for more than 30 happy years of holidays. For Mum and Dad. For everything.
Sunset at Ulrome - in every conceivable way