Relocation, relocation, relocation

Sherri packed in work (for good this time), left school at little early any by 5:00 we were in Hull ready to board the Pride of York. Considering it was the middle of December, the crossing was as calm as you could have wished for - though Zeebrugge was a shock, foggy, -5 degrees and everything covered in hoar-frost. Things went well enough until Sally SatNav blotted her previously good record and took us towards Paris; by the time I realised what the game was - it was two late! The three hours spent crawling around the Periferique were a lesson never to be forgotten - Hell on Earth. Eventually we got on the E6 and 53o miles from Zebrugge, and several hours late we booked into a hotel in Chanas - knackered!
The next day went better and by 2:30 we were in St Rafael having passed some fine looking cliffs on the way down - the most interesting of which (consulting Jingo Wobbly) were at Orgon, looked well worth a visit some time soon.
In a re-run of last year the rain started when we were about an hour from the pad - never mind though - a couple of days rest are what we need for starters.
Then the sun came out - lovely stuff!