The decision

Although the hotel outside Rome airport looked remarkably similar to a 60’s tower block in Skelmesdale; the restaurant, where we sat pondering our future, was very good. The suggestion of ending our travels after 6 months had snowballed from a whisper to a clear decision…, we had thoroughly enjoyed the adventure but we both felt it was time to go home; two realities had transpired over the last 6 months. Firstly we are never going to ‘retire’ and secondly travel is much more acceptable in five star accommodations and in smaller bursts!

We left Rome at nine o’clock on Monday morning and arrived in central London 24 hours later…the Mercedes which had taken so much ‘stick’ in the snow & ice of the Alps and struggled on the ferries of the Mediterranean, now proved its worth. The journey went smoothly and even in the dead of night she was a joy to drive. Naturally we discussed at great lengths our decision to halt OGGY but with our home rented out…what were we to do?

Our first task was to assist our siblings who had found a property and needed help with further research; plus it did seem as if the worst of the recession had passed and we felt it was time for us to go back into the ‘market’; what or where this will mean for us, only time will tell. I never thought the day would come where I had tired of travelling but living out of a suitcase for 6 months had started to take its toll.

We are regularly asked the same question; “where was the best place you visited?” Frankly there is one day that really sticks out above all others.

No, it wasn’t the paradise island of Bequia in the Grenadines…

Bequia's clear waters

and as usual the sunset...













Nor the stunning and peaceful Sardinia where the excellent food and wine was the norm and not the exception…

Valleys and beaches of Sardinia























Or the breathtaking views of snow clad mountains on Pont du Soleil

FOG skiing in Les Gets




















Not forgetting the boys visit...

















But we are getting close…

Even the day we skied 60 km, with our Italian friends, to Champoluc.

FOG in Alagna



It may have been -25oC at the peaks and the pistes tested our skiing ‘skills’ to the maximum but watching my friend skiing with his daughter and grandson under the back drop of the Matterhorn. Unfortunately there is no photograph of this moment as it was too cold to take my gloves off to retrieve the camera…, but this image has been imprinted on my memory forever…





However the memory that will remain with me forever was the Sunday Service at Sandhurst Military College with our two sons; no words will ever give justice to the feeling that cascaded through my mind that day…

FOG dressed to the 9's for the Sandhurst Ball



We were returning anyway this week for the Sandhurst Ball, which before the days of PC used to be the Father’s dinner. A scare of Swine Flu had put the event in doubt but our journey across Europe was not in vain and we booked in our ‘usual’ hotel just outside Camberley. It was now half way through their course and the change in these young men was remarkable. Although confident, fit and maturing, the experience had not affected their ‘core’ character, nor had the thought of leaving these shores for Afghanistan…, their morale was high. The dinner was a fantastic experience for us ‘Civvies’ and we didn’t let our son down…, we were the last guests in the bar, much to our son’s approval!



MOG and youngest awaiting drill...


However the funniest moment was at 07.00 hours the following morning being ‘drilled’ by a Colour Sergeant and then ‘marching’ to the chapel to the stirring sound of the Military Band…, we did try our best but the cadets humbled us by showing us how it really should be done, or should I say, humiliated us! Dear old FOG managed it in high heels and was rewarded with a blister for her efforts…!




Our son was captaining the Sandhurst 11 against an invitation MCC side and sitting in the pavilion, with Old College as a backdrop, hearing the sound of cork on willow…; well it doesn’t get much better than that…














Youngest in action with bat and ball...he hit his first half century...










Proud Mum...



I suppose this should be the best moment of the trip but our eldest was missing and it was that occasion of all being together that made the Sunday Service in February so special.








We had stayed in 46 different places, driven over 12,000 miles; skied for 10 weeks virtually non stop, seen the unknown part of the Caribbean but guess what…? It just re-emphasised what we already knew…, it didn’t match up to our little bubble in central Cheshire…

Cheshire Plain...our home is here!




It seems we’re home birds after all!















The Facts-Old Gits Gap Year will be undated shortly with our experiences and where we stayed.

However if nothing transpires well maybe OGGY 2?