With the rain starting to fall more regularly, we decided it was time to head off again. After a quick hike up the M11, we once again found ourselves at Stansted Airport, this time travelling with longtime friends Jon and Jo, who would be staying with us for the first week.

After an uneventful flight (my favourite kind) of around three hours, we landed in Salerno on the Amalfi Coast. We had decided against renting a car, so we hopped on the transfer bus into the city.

As far as cities go, it isn’t that big, with a population of only about 100,000, but it feels a lot larger as everything and everyone seems to be stacked on top of each other. Our host met us outside the building where we would be staying for the week, a recently renovated two-bedroom apartment within walking distance of trains, buses, and the all-important ferry port.

After dropping off our luggage, we took a stroll through the city, catching our first proper glimpse of it: narrow streets flanked by tall buildings, all wrapped within a lively promenade that runs shoulder to shoulder with the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Lunch turned into an early dinner, followed by an early night. We were ready for a busy week that Rachel had wisely blocked out so she could enjoy the full tourist experience as well.

After a light breakfast and thoroughly confusing the barista (me with my poor Italian, and Jon with his blend of Spanish and English), we had to settle for whatever we were given. It wasn’t quite what we ordered, but it was a lesson learned, at least in theory.

We boarded the train to Pompeii late in the morning for a relaxed one-hour journey. Once we arrived, we booked a mid-afternoon bus to take us up to the volcano. In the meantime, we set off on foot to explore Pompeii, which is set in some truly beautiful countryside.

It is a sprawling site, complete with ancient villas, temples, and intact mosaics. Considering the city was buried under volcanic ash for more than 1,600 years before being rediscovered in the 1800s, it is in remarkably good shape.

We wandered the uneven main road, fed by narrower side streets, and with just a little imagination, it wasn’t hard to picture this as an affluent Roman city. The bones of some truly impressive buildings are still clearly visible as you walk along the ancient Decumanus Maximus.

After grabbing lunch on the go, we boarded the bus for the 30-minute twisty climb up to Mount Vesuvius, followed by a further 30-minute walk to the crater. Unfortunately, by the time we reached the summit, the crater was mostly shrouded in cloud.

Vesuvius still ranks among the top ten most deadly volcanoes, having erupted catastrophically in 79 AD and again in 1631. But today, as we perched on the edge of the crater, we saw only a few faint plumes escaping into the mist along with the unmistakable smell of sulphur.

https://www.airbnb.com/l/r7WdYFIR

Rachel had her summer team meet-up, so we pointed the car south on Bank Holiday Monday for a late afternoon rendezvous over dinner with our youngest (and blondest), whom we hadn’t seen since his Athens visit in June. Needless to say, we had plenty to catch up on.

After traveling for four years, I’ve gotten pretty good at finding and negotiating accommodation deals, and had managed to secure us three nights at Easthampstead Park in Wokingham, Berkshire. The site dates back to 1350, when it was a hunting lodge and part of the Windsor estate. Around 500 years later, the beautiful stately home that stands there today was built.

Rachel needed to be in Crowthorne mid-morning the next day, so after dropping her off, I headed to the Wellington Farm Shop, a great spot for brunch. Whenever I’m back in the UK and in my old stomping ground, I meet up with Paul, a real wizard with anything mechanical and an adrenaline junkie, for a catch-up that, as always, is colourful and entertaining.

That afternoon, I stopped in on Colin and spent a few hours catching up with him as well.

With Rachel out each evening for dinner with her team, Christien had invited me over for an evening of good food and great company. He’s an excellent cook and always entertaining.

The following morning, after taking advantage of the hotel gym, I met up with Andy for a good walk around the scorched grounds and a proper catch-up on all things political and everything wrong with the UK—over coffee on the rather splendid terrace.

Next was a visit with Steve at the Aviator at Farnborough Airport. Even in his early sixties, he’s still a consummate sportsman. We hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, but as with all good friends, we picked up right where we left off.

Then it was off to my chiropractor for a quick adjustment, followed by another walk around the hotel grounds, this time with my brother, catching up on his life.

That evening was a repeat of the night before with Christien, who somehow managed to outdo his previous evening’s culinary delights. As ever, there were plenty of laughs.

After a late checkout and what had been a truly rewarding trip full of connection and conversation, we headed back to East Anglia. Rachel, though exhausted, was in good spirits after what had clearly been a productive three days with her team.

We’d arranged to spend Seb’s birthday weekend with him and Ally, so with Christien arriving Thursday evening (juggling work commitments), and Rachel and I arriving Friday afternoon, we were ready for what had been billed as a competitive family game of paddle tennis.

Unfortunately, Rachel, still recovering after being in hospital earlier in the week, was sidelined, but thankfully on the mend. The game ended up being less competitive and more just good fun with the Watsons.

Chris and Lesley, who were out of town, had kindly offered us their enchanting house a home full of great energy and entrusted us with the care of Floss, their very friendly border collie.

The next morning, we took Floss out for a walk, joined by Christien, who was staying with Seb and Ally, and brought along Arlo, their springer spaniel with boundless energy. After tiring out the dogs, we headed into York to meet up with Seb and Ally.

We arrived at Roots, the restaurant Ally had chosen for Seb’s birthday. It wasn’t really my thing, but what was, was the walk that followed through the city of York.

Founded in 71 AD, York boasts some of the most beautiful buildings in the country, with York Minster, one of the largest medieval cathedrals in Europe, at its heart.

We also passed through The Shambles, a famously narrow and winding street said to have inspired Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter books. Unsurprisingly, it was packed with tourists from around the world, all weaving their way through its magical shops and storybook atmosphere.

It’s been hot here along the coast of the Peloponnese. Basically, if the wind blows from the north during the summer months, it keeps the temperature in the low 30s, which is manageable. But if it blows from the south, through the mouth of the Argolic Gulf, up from the Sahara, it pushes the needle into the low 40s. After late morning, everyone disappears indoors and only reemerges once the sun has set. Still, it’s interesting how life just continues—no complaints, just quiet acceptance.

For our part, we’re still enjoying our early morning routine, followed by a late-morning trip to the Évita Beach Club for a couple of coffees under the shade of the trees, looking out across the gulf toward the other side of the Peloponnese and chatting with the locals.

We slipped into the rhythm of Xiropigado very easily. If we weren’t still committed to our nomadic lifestyle, we could have quite happily stayed. But as they say, all good things come to an end. After saying our goodbyes to all the wonderful people we’ve met here, we set off the next morning for Athens to catch our flight back to London, only to discover it was delayed by five hours. (We could have had that final swim after all!)

Arriving late threw us out of step for a few days, but with most of the UK enjoying a rare stretch of unbroken sunshine, everyone seemed in good spirits. Soon enough, we were back to our walks along the banks of the River Ouse, exchanging good mornings with familiar faces. One afternoon included a walk around the interesting Hinchingbrooke House, of Oliver Cromwell fame now, somewhat surprisingly, a state school.

After one failed attempt, we finally managed to plan a weekend in Cambridge with Rachel and Keith. With the weather set fair, we made our way to the city for a mid-afternoon rendezvous. Once the cars were parked and our bags dropped off at the weekend’s accommodation, we set off exploring, catching up as we walked along the River Cam.

The best way to take in the beautiful schools and colleges is by boat, so we hired a punter. Cambridge dates back to the 9th century, though the University of Cambridge, the first of its academic buildings wasn’t established until 1209 by a group of scholars. The stretch of river that backs onto the colleges is less than a mile, but it’s packed with one architectural masterpiece after another, with only a few modern intrusions.

We opted for an early dinner at the rather excellent Mercado Central, which we all thoroughly enjoyed.

The next day, after Keith and Rachel completed an early 5K parkrun (having failed to convince us to join them!), we headed off for breakfast, which by the time we found it, was more like brunch. Still, it was well worth the walk.

From there, like a small herd of goats, we spent the rest of the day roaming the city. Rachel and I have visited Cambridge a number of times, but this was the first time we truly wandered on foot, which really is the best way to appreciate it.

After a quick freshen-up, we headed out again for dinner, recounting the day’s exploits and all agreeing it had been a wonderful weekend.

Keith and Rachel left early the next morning, having further to travel, but Rachel and I decided on one last long walk along the river before heading home.

We’ve moved on from the apartment where we’d been staying for over a month. As lovely as it was, we were starting to grow roots and besides, they had new guests coming in. With only a few days before check-out, we found a charming little villa owned by an incredibly warm and welcoming family. It’s a bit further back from the sea, but even quieter and still only a 5–10 minute walk to our regular swim spot, where the “morning crew” of older locals, just a little bit older than us hang out. Hah—we love it!

We had our first visitor for tea: Demetra, one of the morning regulars and our self-appointed Greek teacher. I don’t think either of us will ever be fluent, but it won’t be for lack of trying!

Wherever we go, I always try to get a local take on life. I gave up long ago on the filtered narratives pushed by mainstream media. Rachel and I first started coming to Greece in the early 1980s, back when the Drachma was still in use and the country leaned more towards communism. Even then, we found the people to be genuinely welcoming. Things have changed here, as they have everywhere, but to me, the warmth and authenticity of the people remain unchanged.

We’d left the weekend open, unsure whether we’d have a car. But on Friday morning, Giannis messaged me with confirmation, and amazingly, I managed to book what turned out to be the last available apartment inside the castle. With a couple of overnight bags packed, we set off just before midday for Monemvasia.

There were a couple of route options, but we chose the longer part-coastal, part-mountainous one. We’d been told how beautiful the coastline of the western Peloponnese is, with its swathes of white beaches carved into cliff walls, set against dramatic mountain backdrops and it didn’t disappoint. It was absolutely stunning and well worth the extra journey time.

The climb over the mountains was a bit arduous in our tired but dependable little car, but still a pleasure, thanks to the bursts of colorful flora and wild terrain along the way. I’ve said it before: half the joy of these adventures is the journey itself. And as a fellow traveler once said to us, the harder a place is to get to, the more it’s worth seeing and experiencing.

Back on the coast, some three and a half hours after setting off, we rounded a bend and were met with our first glimpse of Monemvasia, a spectacular fortress town carved into the backside of a rock, invisible from the mainland. At first, it just looked like a big rock out at sea, accessible only via a narrow causeway.

Once across, we had to wait for a parking spot to open up along the roadside leading to the castle gates. No vehicles are allowed inside the old town, and even if they were, the narrow, cobbled streets wouldn’t permit it. It’s essentially a medieval city, founded by the Byzantines in the 6th century, with stunning architecture that seems to grow organically out of the rock.

After meeting our host George, a fountain of knowledge and great recommendations, we headed to one of his suggested tavernas for an early dinner: delicious food with panoramic views over the tail end of the Peloponnese.

As the sun slipped behind the mountains, we made the climb to the fortress above the town, passing a tiny place of worship carved into the mountainside before reaching the summit to take in the views. Wandering around this once-impregnable stronghold eventually brought down by siege, was both humbling and awe-inspiring.

The next morning, we were up early for a swim in the crystal-clear waters that lap the base of the castle, another unforgettable experience. After a hearty brunch and one last stroll through the old town, we made our way back to Xiropigado, with a quick detour to Nafplio to revisit our favourite restaurant. It didn’t disappoint….again.

I’ll be honest, I was selectively sociable before starting this chapter of my life. Unlike Rachel, who’s always enjoyed chatting with anyone and everyone, I’d often avoid eye contact if I didn’t feel like interacting, just to sidestep a conversation.

Now though, I make a point, both at home and away, to acknowledge people as I go about my day, and it’s incredibly rewarding. After a month of greeting most of the villagers daily, they’ve become eager to offer us tips, tricks, and little bits of local knowledge. We’ve gradually gotten to know each other, and it’s a connection I never would have made in the past.

We’re still “temple running.” There’s something about these ancient places, a kind of energy, that’s become a bit addictive… or maybe that’s just us. It helps that each site seems to be tucked into truly stunning, often tranquil surroundings. But getting there is half the fun: winding through sleepy villages (many of which appear abandoned, though it’s usually just the quiet afternoon lull), cruising along new, mostly empty freeways, or navigating narrow roads that cling to the coastline. Before we know it, we’ve driven two to three hours without even realizing.

Olympia lies on the opposite side of the Peloponnese from us, so we set off in the late morning, making our way through Astros and onto the A7 for the first 120km, then switching to more scenic village roads for the final 60km. We arrived about two and a half hours later and found a spot under the trees for our little car before heading into Zeus’s sanctuary, created between the 10th and 8th centuries BC.

Olympia is undoubtedly one of the world’s most significant ancient sites. Every four years, the Olympic flame is still ceremonially lit here, next to the altar in front of the Temple of Hera, using a parabolic mirror. Though much of the site was destroyed by earthquakes, there’s no denying the powerful energy that still lingers, especially as you approach the remains of the Temple of Zeus.

We spent hours wandering the grounds before heading into the museum, which is beautifully curated and full of treasures unearthed from the site, from the remarkable statue of Hermes carrying Dionysus to the reconstructed eastern and western pediments, each telling its own mythological story. A great day.

Another two-hour drive brought us to a different valley in the western Peloponnese: Ancient Messene, which may well be Greece’s best-preserved ancient city. Founded during the Bronze Age, it fell under Spartan control, was later freed by the Thebans, and eventually became part of the Roman Empire.

This site, too, has a strong aura. Unlike Olympia, there weren’t many olive trees offering shade, and although similar in scale, it was tougher to walk around in the heat, but well worth the effort. It was fascinating to see how the city had been repurposed over time: first a religious center, then political, military, and finally an artistic hub under Roman rule.

You can’t help but wonder how people from different eras would have interacted if they had coexisted. What a meeting of minds that would have been.

On our way back to Xiropigado, we made a slight detour for dinner in the old town of Kalamata, deep in the region famed for its olives. It was a little rushed, but a nice way to round off the day.

We had originally planned to move up and across into Albania, but the pull of the Peloponnese has proven too strong—so here we are.

We’ve settled into a beach routine: yoga and some stretching first thing in the morning, followed by a slow amble down the hill to our very welcoming swim spot. I’m a creature of habit, so I follow the same 1.5km swim route every morning. After a good swim, we spend about an hour or so on the stony beach catching a few rays before heading back up to the apartment around 11-ish. The middle of the day has gotten a bit too hot for us, unless we’re out exploring, which we’ve been doing most weekends.

The Mycenaeans, who predated the Athenians, were a formidable force that dominated much of southern Greece around the second millennium BC. In the northeastern corner, the famous Lion Gate forms the entrance to Agamemnon’s fortress and a royal palace that once overlooked the now-ruined city. On our travels, we’ve seen some incredibly elaborate architecture, but places like Mycenae stand out as the early foundations upon which future civilizations were built and improved.

Barring the occasional olive tree (for which the region is famous), there wasn’t much shade at the site. And as always, we seemed to be strolling through the ruins in blazing sunshine. Thankfully, Rachel now travels with an umbrella, and I’ve finally adopted a hat—a first for me!

What’s fun, too, are the people we meet, full of enthusiasm and wonder, as they share their own adventures with us. We love that energy.

Heading toward Sparta took us eastward, into the foothills of Mount Taygetos. Sadly, the ancient city, once powerful and dominant, went into steady decline after a series of battles and was ultimately leveled by a powerful earthquake in the 4th century BC. In the 19th century, a new city was built over the ancient ruins.

About 5 kilometers from there, high in the mountains, is Mystras, a medieval Byzantine settlement. Many of the buildings remain intact, with beautiful and surprisingly well-preserved artwork inside the numerous ecclesiastical structures. The site is laid out across three levels, with a fortress occupying the highest point. The lower level includes the remains of the palace and several impressive churches, both inside and out. The mid-level is largely taken up by a sprawling monastery, where some of the dignitaries would have once lived.

It was a good challenge wandering around this medieval center, and we happily spent most of the day exploring and trying to get a sense of what life would have been like.

Not that I’m usually a fan of guides, as I prefer to experience things with my own eyes, but what the Greeks do so well is offer warm, genuine interaction at these ancient sites. If you’re curious, someone is always willing to share more context and insight. We haven’t experienced that everywhere we’ve traveled, and it’s much appreciated.

We’d decided that we’d missed our window to explore the islands off the mainland—something better suited for spring or autumn. So, after quite a bit of deliberation, we chose to stay closer to the mainland and head west along the coast into the Peloponnese. Inspired in part by Race Around the World (which we’d watched back in the UK), and with help from our new host, we made our way across town to the bus station to catch what turned out to be a very comfortable two-and-a-half-hour ride. The journey followed mostly empty freeways that hugged the coastline, and thanks to the help of another passenger, we even managed to get the driver to drop us off at the top of the road where we were staying.

Xiropigado is a small coastal village of about 360 people, perched on the western edge of the Peloponnese, roughly 150 kilometers from Athens. Like the rest of the village, our apartment is built into the eastern slope of Mount Zavista, and we’re only about a 50-meter walk from the sea!

There are a couple of small markets in town, each selling local fruit and vegetables, yogurt, cheeses, and just about everything else we needed. Along the little port area, there are a few restaurants—and that’s about it. It’s quiet, local, and exactly what we were looking for.

We found a lovely little swimming spot, and over time, we were welcomed by the older locals who come down early each day for a dip. They’ve been eager to practice their English and exchange Greek phrases and local insights with us in return. It’s been a really warm and genuine experience.

There’s so much to see in the Peloponnese, but we’d already been in Xiropigado for nearly two weeks before we managed to secure a rental car from the neighboring town of Astros. That allowed us to begin exploring on weekends.

Our first stop was Nafplio, located on the eastern side of the peninsula. When Greece became an independent state in the early 1820s, Nafplio was its first capital. But for me, it’s the old Venetian architecture that holds the most charm—its piazzas and historic buildings watched over by not one but two impressive fortresses clinging to the hills above. There’s even a small Venetian fortress, Bourtzi, sitting in the middle of the harbor, which only adds to the fairytale feel of the town.

We explored the cobbled streets and stopped in at a restaurant we’d had our eye on earlier—it didn’t disappoint.

Next, we visited Epidaurus, located in the northeastern Peloponnese and surrounded by towering spruce-covered hills. The ancient theater there is still used today for performances and is renowned for its acoustics. Epidaurus was one of the earliest examples of a healing center, operating for over a thousand years and even employing early forms of anesthesia. Unsurprisingly, it’s closely linked to Asclepius, the Greek god of health.

https://www.airbnb.com/l/YR0emh4n

We were certainly exploring the city—our average step count was nearly 20,000 steps a day. With temperatures in the mid-30s, it wasn’t always easy, but we were all really enjoying ourselves. We’ve always found the Greeks to be warm and welcoming, and Athens was no exception.

We spent time wandering through the historic sites around the Acropolis, taking in sweeping views of the sprawling city and the sea beyond. One afternoon, we decided to take the city tram to visit Lake Vouliagmeni. City trams are always a great way to see the real side of a place—far from the usual tourist hubs. This one took us from the city center, through busy neighborhoods, down to the port, and eventually, after switching lines, along the coast as far as the tram would go. From there, we hopped in an Uber.

There’s an entrance fee to access this natural thermal spa, where loungers and cabanas sit neatly in the shade around the lake’s edge. The setting had a distinctly high-end feel—unsurprising with a Four Seasons just around the corner—but more importantly for us, it still felt relaxed and welcoming. The lake, fed by both the sea and an underground spring filtered through a complex cave system, felt strangely therapeutic. It was the perfect, peaceful way to spend an afternoon.

Later, we ate at one of the bustling seafood restaurants farther down the coast before heading back to the apartment, where even Christien had run out of energy. Rachel and I had been running on fumes, so we were grateful for a quiet evening chatting at home.

Christien had a lunchtime flight the next day, but not before a final stroll through the weekly market followed by another exceptional breakfast—yet another spot he had picked. He’s 4–0 on restaurants this trip; every one of his choices has been excellent!

The rest of the week after Christien’s departure was fairly low-key. There’s always a bit of a hollow feeling when friends and family leave. We didn’t make it to the Ancient Agora right away—after another long day of “temple running,” a shaded spot for drinks and people-watching won out.

But the following weekend, after more trekking through the city’s open-air museum, we finally made our way to what was once the heart of the ancient city, with its parliament, bank, and civic center. From a distance, we had spotted the Stoa of Attalus—a long, rectangular building—and up close, it was even more impressive. Once a marketplace and social hub, its side rooms would have housed artisan shops, essentially an early version of a shopping mall. Today, it serves as an important museum.

As we walked around the site, we got a strong sense of what life might have been like back then. Towering above it all is the Temple of Hephaestus, perched on a high point overlooking the city—a beautiful structure, solemn and enduring.

There’s so much to like about this city. We loved being able to walk freely, discovering new layers each day. Athens felt genuinely welcoming—but then again, we’ve always found Greece to be like that.

It was an earlish start for us, with a pickup at 5:00 a.m. Although we’d booked a taxi, we both agreed our driver seemed more suited to robbing banks. He was fast—getting us to Stansted in about an hour, the drive just a blur.

We thought that by taking a weekend flight, the airport wouldn’t be too busy. We were wrong—it was rammed! On this occasion, I was glad we’d arrived early. The flight to Athens took about three and a half hours, and we touched down in the Greek capital around 1:30 p.m. (GMT+2). After clearing customs and collecting our suitcase, we met the driver our hosts had arranged to take us to the apartment.

It’s always great when you get a driver willing to share a local take on things that fall outside the tourist radar.

We’d booked our apartment last minute—which, nearly four years into this adventure, no longer feels scary like it used to. In fact, it seems to work well for us now. We chose this apartment because it was right in the heart of the action, with all the attractions, great restaurants, and coffee shops within walking distance.

What struck us first was how green the city is. Yes, like many cities we’ve visited, Athens has its share of “brutish” concrete apartment buildings, but here they somehow fade into the background.

We quickly settled into a routine. After our morning exercise, we’d head to the National Gardens, which sit opposite the Presidential Palace. It’s a beautiful way to start the day, and crucially, the gardens are shaded by a canopy of magnificent old trees—especially important as Athens is currently in the middle of a heatwave. As you walk through, you’re serenaded by a variety of birds, many of them part of the city’s thriving parakeet colony.

Christien flew in later that week for a long weekend, and together we set off to explore the city. With the heat, sightseeing is best done in the early morning or late afternoon. One evening, we wandered through quiet side streets toward the Acropolis. You can see it from almost anywhere in downtown Athens. It sits high on a plateau, glowing at night, but this particular afternoon it stood bold and golden against the cobalt sky.

I must admit, I expected the Acropolis site to be larger, but really, it’s all about the Parthenon. Built around 440 BC, like most significant buildings here, it was erected in tribute to Athena. Beside it is the Temple of Athena, and just along the fortified walls lies yet another ancient structure. Greek mythology was always my favorite subject in school, and I’d forgotten just how revered the goddess Athena was. I can’t think of another capital city where one individual is still held in such high esteem.

Christien had picked out a rooftop restaurant for dinner, which came with a welcome breeze and fantastic food.

We continued our tour of the historic sites, including the Acropolis Museum—an impressive modern building that took nearly a decade to complete. Its glass façade offers unobstructed views of the southern side of the Acropolis, and the building itself is constructed over an archaeological dig site. As one of the guides told us: “Wherever you dig in Athens, there’s a story beneath the ground.”

https://www.airbnb.com/l/O54SHgPV

Six weeks have just flown by.

I had to be in Guildford for a couple of weeks over Easter, and Rachel and Keith kindly invited us to base ourselves in Cobham. They have such a beautiful home and always make us feel so welcome.

We didn’t do too much eating out as we normally would. Instead, we enjoyed relaxed evenings at home, joining soirées with their friends—some we knew, some we didn’t. Christien popped over to see us, and we spent a lovely morning wandering around the splendid Painshill Park. Back in the day, it was apparently fashionable to hire a hermit to live in the park as an attraction, which made us all chuckle—especially when we learned he was eventually fired for spending too much time in the pub.

It was all great fun, as usual, and it’s always tough to leave while also trying not to overstay our welcome.

Back in Hartford, we knew there was always something needing attention. The first few weeks were spent tackling the garden. I’m an outdoorsy person, so although it can be quite arduous, I really enjoy adding new plants and replacing some of the old. Mum loves her garden, and we wanted to leave her with a space she can enjoy with her friends over the summer.

After removing the old greenhouse—Dad’s lab, really, but not a place Mum spent much time—we decided it should go to someone who would bring it back to life. So Jon and I, with Rachel’s oversight, packed it into a van Jon had borrowed and took it back to Braintree, where an excited, green-fingered Jo was ready to take charge.

The shed also needed replacing, so that was next on the list. We had planned to be on our way, but we’d been talking about painting the hallway (up and down) for a while. Somehow, we experienced a bit of “scope creep” and ended up having most of the inside of the house painted—something that took a team of three painters working nine hours a day for fourteen days to complete.

Although it seemed like a great idea beforehand, it quickly became an ordeal. We were all squeezed into a couple of rooms, with Mum and me at each other’s throats, and Rachel—as usual—skillfully playing peacemaker. It was all down to me being incredibly unreasonable, feeling like we’d disrupted Mum’s life too much with all the changes.

It was time to disappear.