Are we there yet?

Going back to visit friends where we used to live means a sometimes harrowing trip round the M25 and even though they've done the journey a hundred times, it's not made easier by the constant stream of 'When will we get there?' from the kids. The answer is always 'When you see the windmill!', which is only a few minutes from most of our usual destinations. It was so foggy today that we couldn't see it at first then - suddenly - it appeared as if from nowhere and we knew we were nearly there, about to have a lovely afternoon with good food and good friends, some of whom we hadn't seen since before we had our children.

Like the fog, the years just seemed to melt away.