The vast majority of these posts are composed as I gaze, largely unseeing, through the window of the office at home. (Bernice always refers to it as my – i.e. David’s – office, although I am always telling her that she is only too welcome to use it whenever she wants.) This window affords me a view of the patch of scrub that lies at the back of the houses on our almost circular road, and, beyond the houses on the far side, the land rising towards the Mount of Olives. Jerusalem, over the distant ridge, is almost completely hidden from view.

More rarely, I will have slid open the frosted windows that closes in the balcony of our bedroom in Penamacor, and I will be gazing, largely unseeing, at the not unimposing ruins of the tower of the castle, on the far ridge of the saddle of land on which Penamacor rides.

But today, I am gazing, largely unseeing, through the porthole of a Boeing 737, as we cruise smoothly above the Mediterranean. The ice cream castles beneath us are bathed in strong sunlight, and could not be more different from the heavy blankets that rained on us this morning as we carried our cases to the taxi. In the space of five hours, we have indeed looked at clouds from both sides, which makes today a very special day.

I am gazing through the porthole and my heart is already in the West, where Micha’el and family, so he tells us, are all “very excited and waiting to see” us. My heart is also in the East, where Esther and family are holidaying in Sri Lanka. How well it worked out that they and we will both be out of Israel at the same time, so that we won’t miss any opportunities for our weekly visit to Zichron.

My heart is also in the centre, our home, Israel. A few hours ago we walked down the sloping corridor from passport control to the departure lounge at Ben Gurion airport, a corridor now lined on both sides by posters of the 134 abductees still being held hostage, each picture giving the name and age of the abductee. Every picture is heart-wrenching, but some are particularly so. Here is the baby, ???? The original text gave his age as 10 months, but a piece of paper has been stuck over this, updating it to 1 year. There is ????. Someone has pasted on the side of his poster the notice announcing his death in captivity. How fitting it is that everyone leaving Israel should carry those images with them as they go.

Because Micha’el and family came to Israel for December, we skipped a trip to Portugal, and this is our first visit since last July. I had been thinking that perhaps, given that we have both  celebrated a birthday since our last trip, we might travel a little more light this time, and, indeed, when I surveyed our boxes of ‘stuff for Portugal’ a few weeks ago, I was quietly optimistic. Naturally we would have to take two suitcases, but perhaps they would each weigh 15 kilo, rather than 22.8.

I had, of course, forgotten Bernice’s extraordinary power through the final bend and into the home straight. For the last couple of weeks, every day it seemed that she had another errand to run in the mall, and, half of the time, when she returned home, it was with another few outfits for one or other of the boys, outfits that the shop practically paid her to take off their hands. The other half of the time, it was with a toy or a game that Tao had particularly enjoyed when he played it in Israel, or that Ollie will adore – you can’t, after all, expect him to only have Tao’s hand-me-downs to play with.

Not that I disagree with Bernice. She has her late grandmother’s nose for a bargain and eye for the perfect gift, especially when buying for our children or grandchildren.

Last Thursday, I weighed all of the boxes, and added in the estimated weight of the last minute items that we would be packing – cheese, a couple of items for Bernice and myself. I estimated that this would come to 43 kilo. So much for travelling light!

Last Friday morning saw the next stage in our preparations: the grand assemble. This is when I unpack the contents of all the boxes and bags onto the sofas in the salon, dividing them as I do so into two piles, designed to be of roughly equal weight, bulk and nature. So, half of the bumper packs of bags of bamba (a peanut puff snack that is the Israeli child’s staple diet) go into each pile. That way, if one case is lost, everybody gets half of their toys, clothes, treats or whatever.

The bamba occasioned our first discussion of the day:
David: “You don’t honestly think we’re going to take all this bamba, do you?! It will fill a suitcase by itself!”
Bernice: “If we haven’t got room, then leave some of it out.”
D: “It’s not just a question of room. By the time we unpack, it will all just be sawdust.”
B: “Then leave it out.”
D: “No, we’ll see how it goes.”

Once everything was laid out, it was time for the second ritual discussion.
B: “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was going to be so much.”
D: “Don’t worry. It’s not too much.”
B: “We don’t have to take everything.”
D: “Don’t worry!”

The next step was the bringing down of the empty suitcases. As happens every time, somewhere between the wardrobe that I took them out of and the sofa that I lay them down on, the suitcases magically shrank. Lying next to the piles of stuff to be packed, it began to look as though Bernice might be right. However, experience has taught me that however much we have to take, it always ends up fitting into the suitcases leaving no room for any other single thing, and the combined weight of the suitcases is always 46 kilo.

30 minutes later, the sofas were empty, and the cases had weighed in at 24 kilo and 20 kilo respectively. A little juggling between cases brought the heavier case down to 23 kilo. Then on Sunday (yesterday) a few last-minute additions came to mind, with the result that, when I weighed the cases for a final time, they came in at 22.5 and 23 kilo. At those weights, weighing on our bathroom scales is challenging. The full cases are too bulky to rest them on the scales without them touching the floor, so I have to first weigh myself, then pick up a suitcase and endeavour to clamber back onto the scales and retain my balance without wobbling so that a reading is possible. Of course, when I am holding a suitcase I cannot see the reading, so I have to wait until I guess that the reading has frozen and then get off, hoping to get a valid reading.

Last night, it took me several attempts before I managed a valid reading. At the airport this morning, the cases weighed in at 23 kilo and 23.5 kilo, but we all know that the airport scales always weigh heavy. Fortunately, the check-in clerk did not bat an eyelid, or Bernice and I would have had to start eating cheese.

In fact, we are going out with less than usual, because we only have one carry-on trolley this time. This of course made our journey to the airport – taxi to Jerusalem and train to the airport – easier than usual. Coming home we should be able to fit the trolley inside one of the almost-empty suitcases, and board the plane with just our backpacks. As always, we spent some time this morning discussing how much longer we will be able to keep up travelling this heavy, but, meanwhile, we seem to be managing.

The effort is, of course, worthwhile, to see the pleasure the boys get from their gifts, and from the shabbat kiddush grape juice, and the delight Tslil takes in her silan, tehina, botz, and so on. We, similarly, can’t imagine going four weeks without good cheese, and wine from duty free. I also can’t contemplate going the first two or three days without granola, until we can do the shopping and I can make a batch. Micha’el is, fortunately, considerably more ascetic, in dietary matters at least, and hardly contributes to our luggage weight.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some rest in preparation for the three-hour drive this evening. Next week, I hope to be updating you with all the latest exciting news from Penamacor.