And then you go home.
Home to start taking down the obviously Christmassy things, leaving up all snowmen etc out because it is COLD and WINTER and SNOWMEN are not Christmassy.
And then you fall into your bed trying to forget the wheelchair episode and the delayed flight, and sleep till 9am.
And then you get up and head down south to see your sons, daughter-in-law, and your little granddaughter for the weekend, and you hear all about Christmas, and the fun they had together and you open presents just arrived from Diana in New Zealand.
And you watch the little girlie play and dance and sing and you read a story or 2 and help do an (impossible) puzzle for toddlers.
And you see your youngest son back to uni, hear all his news, and hopes and dreams (well some of them), cut his hair, and clean half his kitchen. Be a Mum.
And then you watch your daughter-in-law attempt the new Keep Fit programme for the PS3 and you all fall about laughing at the end when it says "you have worked off 82 calories" and reach for a snack instead.
And you sleep.
And you come home via Ikea because there is a 50% sale off their sofa covers, and yours are cream, and the sofas are guaranteed for 20 years, and OH YES you will need new covers.
And you get home, and carry on taking down Christmas, while opening all the cards waiting for you. And the gifts too.
And you sleep.
And you have coffee with great friends, and then you sleep some more, only sleep would be better without the appalling cramp in your leg.
And so normal life returns in this place where there are no mountains, where it is COLD and where I have Stuff To Do.
Thank heavens for friends.
But I miss my family. I miss the mountains.