Back To Normal?

Coming back from summer holiday is always... interesting. We have a fairly set routine: empty the car, put any perishables away promptly, switch on hot water [and heating if necessary] then sit down together with a cup of tea and the Post Mountain - 95% of which is usually irrelevant, the remainder either renewal notices or "proper" communications from family and friends.My car tax and breakdown cover run out at the end of August so I always know I'll have them to pay.

Then over the next couple of days I sort and unpack. The complication is that we always go away the instant that Holiday Club finishes. So I've come back to a dining table covered with felt pens and glue sticks, left over frogs, pipe cleaners and corks. And my enthusiasm for them has waned a little. I work away slowly, sorting and packing so all is ready for next year. 

Because we've "self-catered" for a fortnight, there is always leftover food. So lots of salads to eat, with all sorts of random ingredients. Plus this year, after the party, I froze a container of leftover sandwiches, and another of fairy cakes. Lots of easy meals to look forward to. 
But there have been a few hiccups. Yesterday morning Bob couldn't find the clean clothes he wanted. There was plenty of fresh laundry, but I'd put the basket down in the wrong place before we left. Perhaps when I'm packing, I should leave two complete, clean outfits on the bed, all ready for us on our return. 
The other issue was money; the day we left, we stopped at the motorway services for a snack and Bob said "I think my wallet is still on the dressing table. We decided we could manage with my cards and cash, and didn't want to add 140 miles to the journey by going back to Dorset. All was OK on holiday 
On our return, he went straight upstairs and it wasn't there where he thought he'd left it... After checking the house thoroughly we went outside - the wallet had been in my car all along! Fortunately it had not been taken. All's well that ends well. 
I wrote just three holiday postcards - but forgot to post them. I hope the recipients do not scrutinise the postmarks too carefully, as they didn't get into a letterbox until the journey home, when we stopped at the M11 Stansted Services. 
At least with this sort of holiday I know the airline won't lose my luggage,and I don't need a passport or foreign currency. It was wonderful to be away - but its lovely to be home again.