Up early with the alarm again to get some breakfast in before our check-out at ten. Finished off my leftover rice between packing then had more fruit (I wanna say peaches but they didn’t really taste like peaches) and Greek yoghurt, then yoghurt and jam again. Gotta include the healthy options. That makes eating junk okay, right? Once we were all checked out we packed our baggage into my car so that we could go for a final wander around.
Since the tide was out we went down onto the beach to see what we could find in the rock pools. Kel didn’t even make it to them because the wet sand started seeping into her shoes, so I didn’t go too far over them myself. I didn’t see anything interesting anyway. Saw one very small fish and accidentally touched some squishy thing when trying to pick up a shell, eek. It was an ugly shell too. Wasted effort. We saw some rabbit-shaped signs saying “follow the rabbit to the warren” when we got back off the beach, so we figured we’d do that despite not knowing what the warren even was. It turned out to be a big golf course type area. But of course we didn’t find that out until we’d climbed many steps and hills. Oh yay, exercise.
We followed the roads back into town (forget those hills) and hit a little artsy café for a drink stop. Seeing as I’d already been eating and drinking so badly this weekend I figured I might as well have an energy drink as well. Hey, the last one I had was the first I’d had in forty-two days. Not that I’d been counting or anything… Coming out I accidentally nearly walked into somebody and then fell in a drain in my agitated state of apology. Seriously hurt my foot doing it. Why do I always manage to stupidly injure myself on holiday?
We went back to the car then to start our drive back. Stopped to get petrol first, then hit my Disney playlist. I know that motorway traffic’s always crazy, but I expected it to at least be better than Friday traffic… Apparently no. It still took about five hours. It wasn’t helped by our stop at the services for food and a toilet break. Our pit stops in America were always a quick in and out, but we had ridiculous queues just getting both into and out of the services car park. Madness! Even though it was a real ball-ache I knew there was nothing we could do about it, so I amused Kel with stupid comments to bypass the frustrations. At least I got a cheese and onion pasty and a chocolate eclair out of it.
It took five and a half hours altogether to get home. Bloody M25. I was appropriately mollified though to find out that we had homemade lasagne for tea and eclairs for pudding (too many eclairs, Gaston!) Plus it was nice to get to unwind after the long drive. So besides the traffic troubles, Folkestone was a lovely short break and definitely a nice change of pace. Certainly better than what would probably have otherwise been a weekend of attempts to write and watching John Leguizamo movies. So… where am I going next?