Driving Home

Took a load more photos of Covarrubias this morning before we left, such a picturesque place, but, to be fair to our day, most of it consisted of this - Spanish motorways, so different from English ones. For a start, the lack of traffic (in this part, anyway), and the central reservations lined with oleanders in pink and white profusion. And then, our car, the bow of the Laser protruding over the windscreen, and the mast between our seats. And Mike endlessly driving, and me endlessly reading - an ancient copy of Perelandra, by CS Lewis, what a book, so full of truth, what an imagination, what skillful writing.

And then, home. As we approached Mourão, with its castle on the hill, the town was haloed in crepusculars. The feelings of grief at leaving those I love and a home we made, all mixed up with feeling that this also is home - it's too weird to think about. 

And then our friends here insisting we go down to the town sardinhada (barbecued sardines, peppers and pork, with bread and sangria) for the feast of St Peter and St Paul, dancing and hanging out together, how could we refuse, though the car isn't even unpacked?? Just wonderful to see them all again... and then walking home in the bright moonlight.