Home again, home again, clickety click

After a swot and hetty journey through France, a day in East Hill with June and a quick dash up motorways to Kings Sutton, where we met Steve, had an all-day breakfast in Banbury, a quick visit to Gemma and Clive Hi Guys, we did a quick dash down motorways to Portsmouth and caught a 9pm ferry home to a welcoming Hazelbank. Thanks for your support Steve. Yesterday we were both bushed, but Mum wanted to make the old washing machine work and I had some letters to write, so we each did our bit and watched telly in the evening.
Our cross Paris taxi ride was not without its panic as we got snarled up in some sort of student rally within sight of the Gare Du Nord and our driver taught us a few new gallic words. June, Mum and I dragged/carried our bags for the last few hundred yards and lauckily we were directed up the escalators to the waiting area for the Eurostar. More drag/carrying of our heavy bags up and down the platforms until we settled near the rear of the train. Talk about a speed ride. We were soon away from Paris and under the Channel, and in no time at all were arrived at Ashford, where again, I made a cardinal error. Seeing a flight of stairs looming up, I moved towards what I thought was a downstairs travelator, only to discover that it was not one and instead, was a steep escalator. I can remember trying to guide a trolley down an escalator with a load of stuff bought from Ikea when everything ended up in a heap at the bottom. This was similar, although June took much of the weight of our trolley and baggage. We still ended up in a heap with the escalator humming away, Mum screaming Hugh Hugh and the now folded up escalator steps smacking me in the back. Mum had the sense to bash the red button and we scrambled off with only a gashed leg (Pour moi) which was bleeding slightly and embarrassment all round. Our taxi driver (Ron) was waiting at the gates as we were a bit late, but we got back to June's otherwise unscathed. Was my face red after we had crossed the Thames under the Dartford Tunnel, next day as we were both busting for the proverbial and I turned into an MSA (which I hate, as the signs are so confusing) I drove into the lorry section and could not get out, finally finding myself back on the M25, but FACING THE WRONG WAY!! So we go with the flow and up and over the lovely bridge, arriving at a garage in Dartford town where we were able to relieve ourselves, before again heading towards the tunnel. 29 miles of useless journeying, a now relieved Mum and Dad and the rest of the M25 without a map (which was the cause of all my road mistakes, as I was trying to remember where and how, to get on to the A5), I knew it went near Silverstone (only a few miles from Kings Sutton)) Instead, I went on to the Aylesbury turn which is more confusing than I remember it. Mum did not want to join the M 40 to go past High Wycombe etc so we eventually got in to the Tring By-pass, which now also by-passes Weston Turville and then up the Bicester Road past where Pete and Jan used to live until we arrived in Bicester, then joined the M40 at junction 10 and with the use of ours and Steve's mobile phones (he had arrived at the bunglow at Noon, the appointed time) and he was able to guide us through the maze of lovely little villages in that part of South Northamptonshire, until we arrived at our soon to be, new home. What a journey!! We were almost persuaded to pay an exhorbitant amount for all the carpets, but decided to let him sweat a bit before making an offer. It is good quality and would save having to take it all up and get new stuff, but he wants about £1000 for it!! He is leaving all his plants in pots, which saves us from bringing up all ours in Wootton, and also a very unclean cooker which makes Mum shiver. We will have to use the microwave oven until I get round to cleaning the oven and repair or renew a broken part of the eye-level grill. There are other things he is leaving but we will have to see what we need not take before making any decisions