Goodbye to the Pelican Post motel... well not just yet. The car boot wouldn't shut. While I got out the laptop and looked up the local BMW dealers (such a girlie!), Richard got out the toolkit and took apart the mechanism. (R's note for the grease monkeys out there: the catch had bent about 2mm out of true and once bent back, problem solved). Thirty minutes later, it was mended, big brownie points for him, and off we tooled to the motorway and then south to Sanibel Island.
It wasn't that much further south - two and a half hours drive - but definitely warmer. You drive in tourist convoy across a long long causeway onto Sanibel, which had been recommended to us by friends as both beautiful and fashionable. It was gorgeous - but seemed that every spare inch had been developed into perfect beach houses and lawns - and it made me think a bit of a tropical-style Edward Scissorhands.
We definitely went up-market with the hotel, the West Winds Inn. Our room was sparkling clean and I was so relieved to see the brand new beds and shiny white bathroom, I realised our last stop had been rather on the grotty side. (Though to be fair, only half the price!) The most perfect thing - the pool - whay-hay for Tom as he literally ran and jumped into it. Then, in true Tom fashion, came up wailing because he'd forgotten to shut his mouth on the way into the water. I knew it was typical Tom drama, but the dad standing next to me thought he was drowning... Two minutes later, Tom Mum and Dad were all splashing about in the pool having a grand if exhausting time. He slept very thoroughly, and so did we.
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