Every visit back home has felt different.  If someone asked me ‘how does it feel coming back?’ I’d find it impossible to give the same answer from one trip to the next.
All I know is that there is something very relaxing about being in a familiar place where everyone speaks the same language as I do.
I catch myself preparing to speak, forming phrases (in English mind) and then mentally kicking myself – no need to stress, it’s easy, just say it!

We got back yesterday. I drove to Suffolk from Folkestone and found for the first time I needed to remember to drive on the left. That must be the result of driving more often recently in Catalunya.
While I complain a lot about roads around Barcelona I had to admit that the M20, the M25 and the A12 were all horrible to drive on. Too busy and full of impatient lorry drivers. There were not enough service stations and it was a huge relief to get onto quiet country lanes after Ipswich.

Looking for a coffee stop we eventually came off the main road and stopped in a random and, to me, unknown Essex town of Witham.
Discovered it was where Dorothy L Sayers lived and died

Found a good old traditional pub with a sunny garden out the back – the White Hart

which had a wonderful ladies toilet with photos and quotations in each cubicle




I asked Pep to check out who they had in the Men’s but there were only blank walls and a condom machine! 
Men of Essex not expected to be interested in the thoughts of Clark Gable or Cary Grant.