Chapter 3- Arrival

e-mail long ranged castle Finally we were driving up a potholed, muddly farm path to our new home. Sam excitedly commented on the rabbits in the cages by the farm house but I didn’t have the heart to tell him they were dinner for the farmer in the coming months. It could have been 13 century France apart from the sign to drive carefully as children might be playing. IMG_3772 I had been given some photos of the barn and had looked at them a thousand times trying to imagine us living there. I had Googled everything about Campgast and its surrounds but there wasn’t much as it is such a tiny place. The main feature was the Ecoles de Pilotage or gliding school and grass runway at the bottom of the lane. The hamlet was shuttered against the cold as we pulled into the driveway of Rue De L’Ecole. Both Sam and I were shattered as we had had only a few hours sleep. We stumbled inside and were greeted by a lovely warm fire. The owners of the house thoughtfully left information about local markets, firewood and general grocery and internet details and returned to England the following day. We were alone. By evening I broke into tears. I felt foreign, cold, and homesick. As a child and from a large and noisy family I was always being brought home form other people’s houses by late evening. a knot in my stomach and just wanting the familiarity of home. Here I was at 47 bawling. I hadn’t made much headway with the other English family next door and I felt I had done the wrong thing carting Sammy to this wintry place. Sam started to cry too and when I asked him why he was crying, he said it was because I was. I knew then that I had to pull myself together and make the most of things as he only had me to rely on. I knew we were both very tired, so I snuggled him into bed and put Bec Runga on the CD player. I think we played it most nights after that.      ]]>

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