So, we’re back, and now people say things like “We thought you were to be gone for at least 6 months. Why are you back so early?”, and suddenly the giant epic journey begins to shrink before my eyes, as if I had eaten one of Alice’s little cakes.

But the younger half of the family insists on talking, most mornings as we walk to school in Islington,  about every element of the trip, as if to console itself that we did indeed go to the Tropics.

“Which was your favourite flight?” Lucien will ask. Or “What was your favourite/worst hotel” and so on, through fishes, sharks, meals, guides and the rest of the whole mad assemblage of people and animals that we encountered in our journey around the Francophone world.

As for me, my feet have got blisters fromthe novel experience of wearing boots (poor me) and my eyes are blurring at sudden overuse of Blackberry and PC (shame).  At odd moments of the week, I find myself in the library, looking for books on New Caledonia, or leafing through The Times in order to stumble upon stories from St Pierre et Miquelon. The other day on the tube I actually pretended to be French. Total madness.  But even though I have heard no news, information or communication from the Dom-Toms,  I know it’s going on out there, that strange, secret  parallel French world.

And the other day, after 31 flights, 40,000 miles, 20 different bedrooms and a hell of a lot of baguettes,  I actually caught myself saying to Mr Millard “let’s go back. Soon.”

Le Tricoleur in Les Tropics

One of us wants Cheerios, the other is dying for a long hot bath

With only three more days to go, no-one can talk of anything else. When are we going to be home, and what we are going to do when we get there? I have already done an online shop at Sainsbury’s, timed perfectly to arrive within about two hours of us touching down at Heathrow. Cheerios, Marmite, Anchor ’spready’ butter, Cheddar cheese, Darjeeling tea have all been ordered. And – with not a little nostalgia – a box of croissants. Interesting what you miss the most. 

In ascending order of family seniority here is what is currently of key importance to the Millard Clothiers, after 90 days away from chez nous.

1. Lucien (4) “Eating food from Sainsburys”

2. Honey (6) “Seeing Disney (family dog) and not having mosquitos”

3. Gabriel (9) “Going online”

4. Phoebe (12) “Having friends over for a sleepover”

5. Mrs Millard (ageless) “Having long hot bath”

6. Mr Millard (infinite) “Being in quiet room on  my own without the kids”

This of course is very revealing. We have all been together, in varying degrees of luxury, for too long now. We need to find our own space, whether it be at school, nursery, work or indeed in the bath. The children want to return to the normal round of identifiable food from Sainsburys, no mosquitos, and no fried wasp’s larvae (a local delicacy here in La Reunion), easy access to the internet, and school lessons.

The adults want to have a bit less time with the children and, er, easy access to the internet. Only Mrs Millard, probably, will miss the constant interaction with Les Francais. But hey! yesterday a nice French ‘mec’ (bloke) in a bar likened her to Jane Birkin. And for that, she would willingly spend ANOTHER three months in the French overseas territories. Next stop, Mauritius for a night of seven star luxury and then home sweet home. A bientot.