Farewell to Altamura

Quite a palaver getting packed this morning to come home. We always travel out wearing our boots because of the possibility that our luggage could be delayed and we’d not be able to do the walks … and usually we grit our teeth and travel home in them as well. Not this time. The case was closed and strapped up when I picked up the first boot, smelled the distinct farmyard smell of the remnants of yesterday’s mud, and felt my gorge rise.

My case now weighs more and bulges horribly - but the boots are double wrapped and packed and I’m travelling in trainers.

Today’s photo shows a private courtyard in the back streets of old Altamura. There is a beautiful marmalade cat, and it’s sunny and peaceful. (We later met a much fiercer little cat making the strangest clicking noises at teasing pigeons on a roof).

Now we’re In Gatwick for a brief night in the Premier Inn for an early flight home. Time for bed, said Zebedee.