Twas the long drive before Christmas....

Living abroad led us to migrate temporarily back to our homeland at Christmas when the children were little. This traditional transition was very in keeping with biblical precendents except we travelled in a Renault Scenic and the purpose was not to be counted for a census but to visit relatives. We also followed the GPS of course and not a star. Sometimes there was a rain god that would actually cause it to rain around us as we progressed, it seemed. 

This annual migration was often fraught with strife. Having been left with the task of looking after the children and loading the car while spouse was at work one year, I gave up trying to fit everything into the space available for transport and gave the children some of their presents to occupy them. 

There was the year I bought a frozen turkey in Waitrose at 6.30 am in the morning in Kent and put it in the roof box to keep it cool as it defrosting while we drove up the motorway to Bourton-on-the-Water where we had rented a cottage. Rather than descend upon an unsuspecting relative as the family grew we took to renting a space where everyone could visit us. On this occasion we had a magical Christmassy moment on arrival as the little river had a blue-lit Christmas tree which had probably been erected by the local residents' association. It was also the year Granddad accidentally broke the bed in the children's room in the holiday cottage and we had to find a DIY store that was open to mend it before we left for New Year. 

There were good energies in this particular cottage and unfortunately quite a lot of mould. Upstairs it was empty and a bit spooky but if there were any ghosts the downstairs ones were friendly. 

Over the years I have sensed different energies in different cottages we have stayed in and I still don't completely understand why. Once, not in a Christmas visit, in Deal in Kent there was a very steep staircase and some very strange energies that were accompanied by a banging from the cellar which the owner warned us about on their welcoming tour. He showed us the empty cellar and told us not to worry if we heard any noise as we could see for ourselves it was empty. The hot water stopped working half-way through our stay and the banging was probably more to do with a heating system failure than any supernatural presence. It was, nonetheless, disconcerting.

The year we rented a converted barn somewhere in the West Country not too far from Bristol, we did the Christmas shopping at the end of our journey. This was fine other than we had nowhere left to put any shopping in the Scenic, despite its size. Therefore we stored the food shopping on top of our two children who were sitting in the back seat.

'Are you okay back there?'

'Fine', said two muffled voices behind large plastic bags, one of which had a turkey foil box sticking out of it like a chimney.







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