We stood on the stern of the ferry, watching the grey coast grow thinner and thinner, becoming little more than a line separating the sea from the sky. It was our way of saying goodbye.

"That's it. For another year, at least," I said. Together, we turned away and headed for the hatch that would take us below decks. A break in the clouds let the sun through, blinding us. Instinctively I turned back and caught a glimpse of patchwork green hills and wine-dark sea.

"Typical. Just as we're going," my daughter said.

We raised our fingers in a final farewell salute.