The sun rose quickly over the trees this morning, a ribbon of mist, cutting through the ever changing colours of the leaves, today they are red, orange and saffron yellow.
Whilst we prepare to leave the aire, the coaches are arriving one after the other, with yet more visitors for the world on Monet. Two of the coaches contained school children, their excitement piercing the air as they snake their way off to discover about the great man himself.
We consign the, ‘where to stay aire’s book’ for northern France back in the drawer. Freeing Marge of her waste water, the sun warming our legs while we wait, the French motorhome owners gather in their usual clan. As they talk, they release their dogs to freely foul the ground, a common practice in France.
When we leave we feel a little sad. Today, our destination is Dieppe ferry terminal. We’ve had a real adventure, mere tourists, holding up the everyday lives of Spanish and French people, why they try to go about their daily business.
On route to Dieppe, we pass by fields, split into market gardens, the rows of lettuce, cabbage, leaks and onions, a pallet of green. At Rouen we stopped off at a large supermarket, to stock up with wine (as we didn’t get the chance to yesterday).
Then we travel the last few miles, arriving at the ferry port in good time, allowing us a chance to take a walk along the quayside. The church on the hill was clearly visible in the afternoon sun. The temperature was 30c.
Down at the fisherman’s dock, the familiar sight of the scallops in their fluted shells , were being unloaded by the sack full, from a fishing boat that had just tied up.
It was nearly check in time for the ferry, so we took and deposited one last book into the free library by the car park, and joined the vehicles already in the queue for the waiting ferry. After we passed through passport control, it had to be Marge who was stopped by immigration. Happy that we were not smuggling anyone out of the country, they ignored our hoard of wine and waved Marge on.
We were one of the last vehicles to be loaded, but Marge’s heart sank when she saw we were to drive up the ramp to an upper vehicle deck. Luckily, John waving and pointing, managed to convey to the load master, that Marge was old and her clutch a little worn (a little white lie there). Result, Marge was reprieved, and we were given the end space on the lower vehicle deck.
Installed on board, with a much needed coffee in hand, the ferry slid away from the dockside. We remembered our arrival in Dieppe 32 days ago. It was dark, windy and raining. All in all, we have had very little rain, so count ourselves lucky.
We got talking to two English lorry drivers, a campervan is a lorry drivers nightmare, but I (Angela) have driven since we set off on our second day in France, and know how to drive to be the lorry drivers friend, but we won’t miss them. Saying that, there’s still the M25 to negotiate. But tonight, we are staying in Newhaven, we have Marge’s electrical problem to be aware of, where if her headlights are on, her cooling fans don’t work, so we will wait until daylight to set off towards home.
As we admire the setting sun, we raise a glass to Marge and the adventures she will take us on in future.
We are back in England, ''The Margery has landed" as Neil Armstrong would have said had he been with us. We are tucked into the port staff car park behind the lorry park, and ready for a good night's sleep.
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