Finally, skin grey and hair stiff with dust as if we had been substituted hoover bags for pillows in a pillow fight GS and I took off in separate cars of the coast. Since we couldn’t find a hotel in Shoreham we booked into nearby Bramber, a beautiful of settlement with a ruined Norman castle.
No sooner had GS skidded in at 8.30pm and about to snap off the top of a well deserved cold beer secreted into our room when the phone went.
Power had gone off in the villa. You could hear the rucus all the way from Italy. ‘You can imagine the chaos not having power causes’ said GS trying to placate our irate guest.
‘ I don’t have to imagine!’ was his candid response.Half an hour later with an evening of emergency calls and shouting ahead of us we went downstairs to find the dining room plunged into darkness. ‘Chef’s left’ said the barmaid slinking towards the door herself.
So instead we galloped next door for a delicious meal at the Maharajah Bramber Tandoori. https://maharajahofbramber.co.uk
Forewarned, the next day we were sharpish for breakfast. Just as well as some layabouts thinking they could show up ten minutes late were turned away as GS guiltily drained the final dregs of watery coffee. My poached egg was also watery and the sourdough muffin looked suspiciously like a crumpet to me but the bacon was thick and flavoursome although with the stress behind us, the stress eating has to stop. Thinking we had time to relax I took GS on a post breakfast wander to historic Bramber, a haunt of my misspent youth
Then it was a fast, cool train to Gatwick, and easy flight to Valencia and soon being spoilt rotten as part of a party of house guests at at one of GS’s rowing friends villas. It was hot, far hotter than Italy, hot enough to drain the energy from your bones. The view from the villa terrace was over the swimming pool out across the valley to a mountain opposite. Half way up on a ragged outcrop was a castle and in the evening light things glinted apparantly the wreckage of a plane crash. That, conducted from under the shade of the terrace was enough sight seeing for us. GS and I were so stressed from the move our eyes were out of stalks and we could barely string a sentence together. It was just so fabulous to be with friends, chatting, playing silly games, falling asleep and not packing and hauling boxes but gradually returning to normal speed.
One morning we had coffee on the beach next to a moody sky sea stirred up from end of summer storms.
One day we went on a pilgrimage in homage to one of GS’s favourite sitcoms – Benidorm.
Benidorm was incredible – banks of tall distant tower blocks, yet a clean sea and everywhere we went absolutely delightful people (and the cleanest loos ever) who couldn’t do enough to help. It was high 30’s way too hot for anything but a serious wilt and a swim, but not the last swim of summer!
We were spoiled rotten with delicious food and great company all week but soon we were on the way back the the airport. FCO Fiumincino, my old haunt, for Breakfast in Rome
