Homeward Bound.... I wish I was

We came back our holidays today. 

Tooli spotted this sign when we were driving up.  It's so rarely she spots her name in print (other than other people's names), that she told us last week, that she wanted to stop and grab a photo on the way back. 

At at Arrochar we did just that. 

We also grabbed a roll with lorne sausage and potato scone and a cuppa.  We had been up since 7 and were quite exhausted. 

Why is it, that the departure of a holiday is always more stressful than the arrival?      I mean, I get stressed enough with any movement from the norm.  I ignore everything that is happening and Himself organises around me.   Then I follow him like a little lapdog and we get there. 

On the way back...  we have to de-cruse the house, clear our mess up, tidy up - pack the bags, and decant from the house to the pier, from the pier to the boat, from the boat to the slipway,  from the slipway to the car park. 

There were at least five other houses leaving today.  Boathouse, Pier House, Birchwood (us), Oakwood, Garden House and Forge.  All the luggage, all the unused food, all the rubbish bags (All the rubbish has to be removed from the island). 

I'm pretty hopeless, I have neither the strength nor the stamina.  Himself roped Tooli into helping, and they formed a chain from the pier to the boat, and loaded everything, then another line formed at the other side and stuff was lifted (around me, whilst I manouvered myself up the desperately scary stairs). 

I left them to it, and took wellies and bags to the car and brought the car closer - I had to sit for a couple of minutes to get my breath - the slip way has about a 1 in  3.   Nightmare. 

I came back, walked to the slipway, picked up four of our bags, and clambered back up the walkway to the car.  I felt quite proud of myself that I did not collapse in front of everyone. 

We noticed, that despite everyone chipping in, Someone took all the bin bags to the car park, but left one sitting.  I recognised it as ours (don't ask).... and I got Si to remove it, all the while, whilst staring daggers at the freak who left it there.   He hadn't even help to load or unload his, or his wife's or his kid's crap. 

So we drove, and Tooli felt sick, so we promised a stop quickly - Sadly there was an antique tractor fest on at Loch Fyne, and there were 3 million cars in the car park, so we battled on to Arrochar, filled ourselves up, and then forced himself to make a stop, so that Tooli and I could Negotiate the roundabout, and get ourselves in position. 

I didn't call Tooli, for me.... I just wanted a gaelic name that no one can say... Truth be told, I should have stood there, and we should have dragged himself over too and we both could have pointed.   

So we got down the road, and now we can't move anywhere, because there are bags dumped everywhere and we ate a massive chinese.

It will be an early night, and then I will start filling in the missing pages. 

oh, it's nice to be back, but boy I did love that place.