The arrival home from Toronto last week was a bittersweet affair. Toronto rocked. I loved it there and felt very at home, thanks in no small part to the melange of lovely people at The HarbourFront Centre and beyond, who were so welcoming and supportive of our endeavours. We brought back a few souvenirs (IceWine goodies, maple syrup, the obligatory Toronto-skyline-fridge-magnet) and left some behind for our hosts (scales, shirts, metric weights, printer, assorted stationery – in a dire attempt to reduce our baggage allowance by  25%!). After a 7-hour talkathon with my flight companion Annette, Craig picked me and crates up at Heathrow and so began  a dizzy drive back to Brum. It was now time to catch up with those left behind. 

Early next day,I picked up excitable Things 1 & 2  in their ‘Welcome Home Dad’ jester hats and drove headlong into my jetlag, as far as I could reasonably get in the direction of Mexico. The remainder of the Rose Bunch were ensconced in a house near Rock on the Camel (estuary) but I was too tired to remember anything of the first night. The following day – a grim, damp, foggy excuse for a holi-day – saw us heading  up coast past Boscastle, scene of freak flooding a few years past, to visit my dear school-chum Dave and family in their lovely new pad overlooking….. Tintagel and Lundy, apparently. Soon enough, though, asthmaboy Jacob and I went on our travels(via medical helpline and a clinic in Bodmin) to Treliske Hospital in Truro, where we saw out the remaining 3 days of our vacation. The service was excellent, accommodation clean enough, food passable, amenities quite satisfactory for 5-year old tastes. Room with a view too, for as the clouds lifted one could sniff the joy that was on offer out there.

As the weather improved, I got grumpier and grumpier. I realised that stealing the leftovers of my sick child’s hospital grub was not enough to sustain me so I snuck out past the nurses’ reception desk one night and mooched into town for a pint and a burger. 

Here’s the West Front of Truro Cathedral that night, also by chance the location for a version of the Rice Show last year.

Needless to say, Jacob is better now and bouncing around like a crazy thing, armed with a rattlebag of assorted inhalers. A return to Dave’s on the way home allowed us to sample the fog-free uninterrupted views of the coastline complete with seals swimming below us.

Ps. Lest it causes concern with readers; yes, I know that NHS hospital accommodation is not  strictly speaking ‘free’. And I know that it is not my entitlement, as a mere parent, to steal food from the mouths of innocent poorly babes.  Jetlag sometimes brings out the worst in humanity.