In the end, the Turkish border was a breeze. We were through in less than an hour, with very little drama-which doesn’t make for a funny blog, but them’s the knocks. The border guards hadn’t got the memo that they were meant to be surly and intimidating. They laughed, joked and seemed to enjoy their jobs enormously. One called me Queen Elizabeth, another took one look at our densely packed boot and cupboards and decided we didn’t need to go to X-ray. Phew. Our V5C was carefully inspected at least five times, which gave us a warm glow and made the race to get it worthwhile. Mr G managed to sort out van insurance and a Turkish toll vignette close to the border, and we were off.

Our hotel is on the Asian side of Istanbul, on the edge of the Bosphorus. It’s a bit of a way into the city, but it meant we didn’t have to negotiate the narrow, packed streets of central Istanbul. On the drive in we skirted the city, and parked up in front of the elegant Ottoman era building without shouting at each other, tooting the horn, crashing or crying. 

We made it. 2985 miles, ten countries, 16 stops and one errant V5C later we arrived in Istanbul. We’ll definitely enjoy an #Icecoldinistanbul tonight.