Priorities Fail...

Today, as we left San Sebastian, I entered a dark place of self-loathing. And it was all the fault of Brittany Ferries. Basically they went on strike the day we left home in Edinburgh. Our ferry to France was with DFDS, so that was fine, but coming home we were due to leave from Bilbao tomorrow (Tuesday) morning, sailing during the day and overnight to Portsmouth, for us to drive back to Edinburgh on Wednesday. Except they were still on strike 10 days later, and our Tuesday sailing had already been cancelled.

Our choices numbered two. We could go to Bilbao as planned, and there was a sailing still landed for Thursday morning, so we stay two extra days, and I phone work to let them know I won't be back in on the Friday as planned; or we could drive back through France to Calais where P&O were honouring BF tickets for the hop to Dover.

Now this whole trip I've simply not been able to switch off from thinking about work, and even more than usual have been worrying about going back in only to find I screwed something up etc etc etc. I don't know why I get myself worked up about these things, nor why it's so bad this time, but I do and it is. So paranoia set in, not wanting to rock the boat (if you'll pardon the pun) we plumped for the drive back through France, stopping overnight in Azay-le-Rideau in the Loire (which we knew from a previous trip) to break the journey.

It was driving back that we found out the ferry strike was over. Our Bilbao sailing was still cancelled, but it meant that the Thursday sailing would DEFINITELY go ahead. And of course by now we'd booked the Loire hotel, and cancelled Bilbao. And I started giving myself a mental kicking about it all. Why on earth had I insisted I had to get back for work? In the grand scheme of things, in this life, what difference does one more day make? I was less diplomatic in my language. Essentially I'd ruined the end of the holiday with one of my (few, but strong) hang ups.

Of course, I may have some crap to deal with back in the office on Friday (and I can already tell you I won't sleep on Thursday night), but I can't let that dominate time I'm AWAY from the office. Priorities. Eejit.

It didn't help that it had been a gorgeous day, and pottering about Basque villages between San Sebastian and Bilbao would have been fab, but Azay helped soften the blow with its pretty exterior; a lovely warm welcome at the hotel; seeing a couple of kingfishers on the river running through; and a very pleasant meal.

All of that was topped off by finding there was a late night sailing from Caen with BF, being 2 and a half house closer of a drive than Calais, which we could change to, meaning a whole day to potter about doing more touristy things, and sleeping on the boat instead of some Travelodge. I think Mel is slightly put out by not getting the whole of the Bilbao crossing refund with this option, but she's also now getting to visit the Bayeux tapestry, so swings and roundabouts.

Anyway, tomorrow's another day. I need to sort out my priorities a bit better - holidays always become a bit of a time for introspection for me, even more so on this one with the trip to Lyon and all of the memories of a young pillock with a million and one dreams.

Oh, and the day did give the weirdest moment of the trip. In a service station off the Autoroute, music playing, and I'm certain I can hear the band singing "Wye Aye Man". When the lead singer starts blabbing on about the Tyne it's clear French radio is playing some Geordie folk band. They really are rather eclectic on the airwaves here.