Let me first describe how we got down from the cliff I left us hanging from last week. In the event, our journey home from Portugal was uneventfully smooth. As I write that, I am struck by just how low our expectations of air travel have sunk. What ‘uneventfully smooth’ means, in 2023, is that our drive to Lisbon was easy, as was returning the car and transferring by shuttle bus to the airport. Because everything was so hitch-free, we actually arrived at the airport over four hours before our flight was scheduled. All of the waiting for the check-in to open, queuing and processing took about two hours, so we had another two hours to kill in the airport departure lounge.

We boarded on time and then sat on the tarmac. After 15 minutes, the pilot announced that we were not being given clearance to fly yet, because of ‘heavy air traffic over Europe’. (In Hebrew, he actually said: ‘…over France and Iran’, but I assumed, and very sincerely hoped, that was a slip of the tongue and he meant Italy. ‘Heavy air traffic over Europe’? If only they had asked me, I could have advised them that air traffic is, indeed, heavy over Europe in mid-July. It is slightly disconcerting that this appeared to come as a surprise to air traffic control at Lisbon airport.

We sat on the tarmac for an hour, and then, after taxiing to the runway, sat for another ten minutes while two other flights landed. Thankfully, the air conditioning was working throughout this time. The result, unsurprisingly, was that we landed almost an hour late. So, there you have your answer. Spending four hours in an airport, then experiencing a 70-minute delay in departure, resulting in an arrival time an hour later than scheduled, is what constitutes ‘uneventfully smooth’ air travel in 2023.

Our last few days in Penamacor were low-key, but very enjoyable, although we all spent most of the time wandering around saying: ‘I don’t know where these four weeks have gone?!! We only just arrived!!’ In our last week, Lua seemed to have recovered from her lack of discipline when walking off the lead with me. Bernice cleverly worked out what had caused it.

One morning, on our walk, we had encountered a woman with two dogs, one a very friendly and lively dalmatian. Lua, who was traumatised as a puppy by a very cruel owner, is very much of a nervous disposition; when this dalmatian, off the lead, came loping towards her, she fled; the dalmatian, thinking this was a game, gave chase. Eventually, Lua ran all the way home, and my troubles with her began there.

However, as I say, I tried to take her for a walk again during our last week, and she behaved as beautifully as she usually does. On the Sunday and Monday morning, Tao decided that he wanted to join us on our morning walk. This represented, for Lua and myself, a trade-off. We both enjoy a vigorous walk of several kilometres in the morning, which, obviously, wasn’t possible with Tao. However, what we did get was an endless string of adventures. First, I got to stand lookout on the stretch of lawn in front of the sports hall, which, I discovered, is actually Tao’s pirate ship in disguise, complete with main mast (flagpole) and crow’s nest (retaining wall) from which I was required to keep an eagle eye open for any passing giant octopus.

We were also required to run races (me, with my two artificial hips, took inspiration from Andy Murray) to the tree at the side of the sports hall. Lua, unsurprisingly, won these races convincingly. We were then able to cool off by swimming in the lagoon, which I had previously heedlessly walked over every day, labouring under the delusion that it was a concrete platform. We even managed to work in some nature study, discussing the variety of shape and colouration of different trees’ leaves, and the way lichen always favours the same side of the tree.

A good walk with Lua is a great way to start the day, but a good walk around Tao’s ever-bubbling mind is a large part of the reason why we continue to put ourselves through these ‘uneventfully smooth’ journeys two or three times a year.

And then, all too soon, it was Tuesday, which was Ollie’s first birthday. We had a family celebration that included music and bubbles and decorations and individual frozen yoghourt cupcakes and blessings and wishes. Ollie was largely unmoved, although he gave his absolutely undivided attention to everyone’s blessings to him. He spends a lot of his time focussing with intensity on what others, especially his big brother, are doing. He is definitely taking it all in.

Then, there we were, saying our goodbyes, and then it was Wednesday, and we were unpacking in Maale Adumim, and then it was Sunday, and we were off to Zichron to catch up with Raphael, Esther and Maayan. Initially, Raphael was just a little wary of us in the flesh, rather than on the phone, but very, very soon we were back to our usual relationship.

He, of course, has changed while we have been in Portugal. His progress in walking and talking over the month were very noticeable. These Portugal trips involve a curious kind of not-really-catch-up, where, over the course of our month abroad, we watch Ollie ostensibly closing the gap between Raphael and himself, and then, when we return, we discover that Raphael is not where he was when we last saw him.

So now we switch back to the more normal routine of weekly visits to Raphael in person and a weekly video chat and story-time and puppet-show with Tao and, we hope, increasingly with Ollie.

Micha’el and family are, God willing, planning to come to Israel in the late autumn. We then plan to go to Portugal next in February–March, where, because it is a Jewish leap year, we will be able to stay later into March and, for the first time ever, celebrate Tao’s birthday with him. That’s something very special to look forward to.

Here’s Tao, enjoying Ollie’s birthday frozen yoghourt and fruit,

Raphael, enjoying a walk,

and Ollie, rejecting Tao’s doctor’s scissors in favour of one of his best-loved dance tunes.