We could hear the aircraft taking off and passing overhead but couldn't see them! We sat a bit longer; I read my book, Ruy and Mateo had a game of bashing each other with huge bamboo poles that had been dumped on the beach by the recent heavy rains. I waited for the yells of pain, but none came. Romy sat with me and we planned what we'd do during the week with Grannie.
Then suddenly, the clouds parted and the sun shone forth - our karma was good after all. And we'd waited long enough on the beach, got sand between our toes, resisted the urge to get wet, eaten up what we'd brought - apart from Grannie's share, of course - so we piled back into the car and drove to the airport.
And after what seemed like an endless wait (but which was all of half an hour), there she came, safe and well, through into the arrivals area. I'd forgotten the camera, of course, and not for the first time in the week that followed!
It was great to have my mum with us again though it made the year since the last time she came seem to have suddenly flown by. We had a very easy journey home and arrived back to one of FR's famous tortilla de patata though FR himself was out at a meeting of the Tooting Popular Front (I'll explain another time!)
In the days that followed, we stopped chatting only at bedtime or when I had to work. We took leisurely strolls either with Darwin in the olive groves or around town on our own; we stopped here and there for coffee and tostada (toast, which we had with tomatoes and olive oil) in the mornings before the children came home from school. We went to Priego de Cordoba, to Almedinilla and to Montefrio; we had pizza to take away and lunch out and little pasteles. We ate and chatted and walked and played and it was lovely. It went far too quickly. And I kept forgetting my camera.
But you can see, we didn't have blue skies or sunshine...
But big smiles and glad to be together for a little while.
And then suddenly, it was Friday and going home day. We had almost the whole day, though, so we made the most of it and took the scenic route back to Malaga, via a beautiful reservoir, called Lake Bermejales.
There, on finding there was a dolmen - a single chamber tomb dating back to neolithic times, so 5 or 6 thousand years old - Ruy and Romy immediately launched themselves into a Neanderthal role-playing game and we didn't see them (though we could hear them) for ages and ages.
And as, by this time, my poor mum had developed a dreadful cold - she asked me not to photograph her...so I took this one of Romy instead, looking rather grown up for her eight years, I think.
And suddenly, it was time for us to get her to the airport; drop off her suitcase and wave a brave goodbye. I know she left feeling really rather ill with a streaming cold but she was very brave. We have enjoyed having her with us. It's such a shame my dad isn't well enough to come too and such a shame that he is in need of so much of my mum's time, care and attention when she gets home again. It's a hard life being a carer and sometimes, I really don't know how she manages it. I just hope that she's had a good rest and that not having to do anything and only think about herself for a while will have recharged her batteries.
We look forward to seeing them both when we visit the UK at Christmas.