travel

Home From Home

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Staying in someone else’s home is the topic I chose for our writers’ group when it was my turn this week. It covers a wide range of experiences from world leaders being the guests of royal families, to school children going on sleepovers, so I am expecting them all to have come up with a piece.

I have stayed in many homes, sometimes those of strangers. As the eldest in the family I was often farmed out to make way for visiting friends and relatives. Looking back now, senior me would be appalled at the thought of sleeping on a stranger’s living room floor with several friends. Last week I did sleep in an office; modern working from home means spare bedrooms have become offices. However, the sofa bed was very comfortable and I did have exclusive use of the shower room next door, except when boys were having showers or going for a …

How kind were the many people who put me and friends up on various travels. Nowadays I prefer to be the hostess not the guest and we have had many people to stay over the years.

Whether you are staying or having visitors, the bad experiences are more fun to write about.

Worst Sleepover

My younger son and his best friend, plus a boy we had never met, were taken to the speedway by BF’s Dad. They enjoyed the evening and the sort of takeaway food you can get away with when there are no mothers around – this fact is relevant to the story.  They then came back to our house to get settled into sleeping bags in our son’s room.

At 3am our bedroom door was flung open and son announced that the ‘other boy’ had been sick in his sleeping bag.

Worst Christmas – also involving vomiting.

My friend and I left Perth, Western Australia, having cadged a lift across the Nullabor Plain with a family friend. Our final destination was Tasmania. My friend being a laid back Aussie country girl assured me her various relatives would be happy to put us up. Our first stop was her aunt in South Australia for Christmas. They had an apricot farm near the Murray River and another aunt lived across the road. They also owned a shop down in the town – relevant fact.

They welcomed us in the lead up to Christmas and we planned to leave on Boxing Day. Christmas Eve proved eventful as the aunt across the road was having a miscarriage and my friend commandeered our driver to take Aunty to hospital. I was left alone to look after her other children, who I had never met before, in a house I had never been in and feed them.

Christmas Day was very pleasant, but that night my friend and I were awoken by the most horrendous noise. Our driver had food poisoning… what we subsequently discovered was that other visiting relatives had noticed one of the freezers in the family shop was dodgy and had warned each other not to touch the chicken.

We set off for Melbourne the next morning with my friend assuring our poor driver he would be fine. We made it, but I succumbed to the food poisoning the following day.

At some stage we bade farewell to our driver and went to stay with another aunt and uncle in a posh house. After a couple of nights we took a coach to Sydney where we stayed in a Girls’ Friendly Society hostel. We had to sign back in before midnight, even on New Year’s Eve. We then returned to Melbourne for a planned second short stay with the aunt and uncle before our flight to Tasmania, but they had mysteriously disappeared on holiday!

With no money set aside for accommodation we wandered into a respectable Christian bookshop in the city and asked a young shop assistant if she knew any cheap accommodation. She replied that her father had just gone away for a few days and she would be delighted to have some company to stay as she did not like to be alone.

What are your best or worst experiences of staying in someone else’s home? Take this quiz to find out if you are a good guest.

Your host is lactose intolerant, vegetarian and teetotal. Do you arrive with

A  a homemade vegan cake you have made especially

B  a lovely bouquet of flowers

C  a bottle of wine, box of chocolates and pork pies from ‘our lovely farm shop’.

One person in the family has to get up very early and catch a train to work. You always wake up early so do you

A  Check the night before what time they go out the door, so you do not get in their way. Hide under the covers not making a sound in case they worry they have woken you up.

B  Dash in the shower and hope you are out before they want to come in the bathroom.

C  Get up to make a cup of tea for both of you and take the chance to have a nice catch up chat.

Your host is cooking the evening meal, do you

A  Peep round the kitchen door say ‘You don’t want any help do you’ and retreat quickly.

B  Ask if there is anything you can do and keep out of the way of the cooker and the cook while you peel the potatoes as requested.

C  When the cook says ‘No you go and watch television, I don’t need any help’ insist on helping and showing how you usually do the potatoes and catching them up with all the latest events in your life.

All Cs, I am away that week, sorry, though I do like chocs and wine…

All As and Bs I’ll just check the calendar…

All As  You are welcome to stay

Tuesday Tale – Sky High

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SKY HIGH LIVING

NO MORTGAGE NO RENT

Find out what it’s all about at our coffee morning

TODAY

The large poster greeted us as we stepped out of the station. I nudged George.

’Hey let’s go to that, it could be the answer for us.’

I fingered my new, cheap, engagement ring.

‘Tams, the last thing we want is to live in a high rise block. I thought you wanted a house with a garden, that’s why we came out here to look.’

This was the latest outer suburb we were visiting in our search for a home.

‘Free coffee and cakes and a lift to our exhibition centre.’

The voice startled us. At our side was a bloke who looked more like a scientist than a smarmy salesman.

‘Don’t look so worried, we’re running a shuttle service from the station today, it looks like rain so why not hop in and start your home hunting at the Sky High centre.’

‘How do you know we’re house hunting?’

‘Hopeful people have been arriving all morning since that article in the Guardian last weekend.’

At that moment the heavens opened and we jumped gratefully into his mini bus, smiling and nodding at several other passengers.

We were surprised to arrive ten minutes later at a huge aircraft hangar.

‘You will see inside that later, but first the introductory talk.’

George groaned ‘I knew there was a catch, bet it’s one of those timeshare things.’

As the rain was torrential and there was nothing except fields around the hangar, we didn’t have much choice. We were parked near some outbuildings and the driver held a golf umbrella over our heads as we all clambered out and through a red door. The room we entered was large and bright and full of people helping themselves at a table laden with a selection of cakes. George had three and would have gone back for more if they had not announced the presentation was starting. Behind a small stage a screen lit up. I wondered if the chap addressing us was a comedian in his spare time, perhaps I had seen him on television. Was this all a big joke?

‘Don’t worry, I won’t subject you to a long sales talk, I’ll cut straight to the exciting part. Airships, solar powered airships, how we should all be travelling, not on planes and cruise ships guzzling resources. Some folk even live on those huge cruise ships, good idea to get away from the world, so could you live on an airship? Yes. Our airships orbit the earth just like the International Space Station, only bigger and lower down. Imagine working from home sky high, looking down on the countries you have conference calls with. Or being part of a fantastic project to study the future of airship life, silently gliding through the clouds.

‘That’s just pie in the sky’ said a voice from the back.

‘Hardly, we were all meant to be on the moon by now, what happened to that idea? Our plan is the realistic one. But the big advantage for you young people and a few mature folk is it’s all free. We do offer a gold package for those who want a life of leisure, but most of you will be working as part of the team, according to your talents and experience. Growing vegetables in the sky garden, technical maintenance of the ship, part of the medical team… this is going to be a mini world.’

‘How many airships have you got in orbit’ asked George ‘and how come we have never heard of them?’

‘Prototype One, which is manoeuvring unnoticed above peaceful parts of the earth. The news media are only interested in toy rockets being blasted up and falling down or exploding, not in positive stories. That’s why we will be running our own radio and television stations.’

I nudged George, I worked for a little local radio station as the general dogsbody.

‘How big is this airship, how can if fit a whole space commune on board?’ asked the voice from the back.

‘You will soon see and bear in mind it can be expanded once up in the sky. Now it’s time for the tour of Sky Galleon One’s interior.’

We were led to a door which opened into a sloping tunnel as if we were boarding an aeroplane. There were gasps of excitement as we stepped through the round doorway into a large light atrium, the centre of the four storey vessel. We were each given a small electronic device with a screen to show our location on a 3 D map and more importantly, one button to press which would guide us back to the atrium from anywhere. Thus we were free to explore until summoned by a signature tune.

‘There will be crew members dispersed on every deck to answer your questions.’

George, with his technical and scientific expertise, was busy tapping surfaces, opening cabinets and marvelling at the lightweight constructions of cabins and furniture. I was entranced by the lush sky garden and the lovely personal apartments, so spacious compared to our cramped flat. Then we walked up a sloping passage and arrived at another floor where we were surprised to find a theatre and a dance hall. George saw a sign for the observation deck and rushed me down a spiral walkway to arrive at a glass floor. Presumably there was ground underneath, but the glass rested on an aerial picture of paradise islands in an azure sea.

A tune started playing on our devices.

‘Oh this is on Mum’s playlist I exclaimed – Up, Up and Away…’

George raised his eyebrows ‘A bit cheesy, but appropriate I guess. Do you want to be up, up and away?’

‘YES.’

Back at the atrium there was a buzz of chatter, then we were called to attention.

‘We won’t go up and away until the galleon is attached below the dirigible. Now for the only time you will see what it looks like close up suspended in the hangar. Follow me.’

The hangar was even bigger than I had imagined from the outside, but the dirigible took up most of the vast space. It floated silently, gracefully, shimmering silver, how impressive it would be in the sky.

Two weeks later we were staring up at it from the airfield. Firmly tethered with our stately galleon below barely resting on the ground. We walked across the grass and up the gangway with the others, who like us had signed up on that very first day. Our ten day induction course was over, now we must learn the reality. Some opted to go to the top deck and look out of the picture windows, while George and I sat by the glass floor of the observation deck looking at grass, then the airfield and gradually a toy town.

At dinner that evening in the communal hall we chatted and found out more about each other, fifty people to get to know, all with interesting backgrounds, we would not get bored.

And we didn’t, as the weeks passed there was always more to learn, new parts of the galleon to explore and the beautiful earth to see fairly close up. Then there was our cosy apartment to retreat to. It wasn’t long before we and another two couples became part of Plan B. We were expecting a baby and put under the close care of the medical suite.

I don’t know why we had not thought about it before, but one day I said to George ‘We better find out about ground leave, we’ll have to take the baby to see his grandparents, they won’t be content with just our Facetime calls.’

When we three couples were together we mentioned the subject and the chap who was in training with the flight engineer looked worried and awkward.

‘Did you read your contract properly when you signed up, it’s not that simple.’

‘Surely when we get back above England we can just land back at the base’ I suggested.

‘You can put a balloon in the air, but not necessarily catch it.’

‘They were landing airships a hundred years ago, what’s so difficult.’

‘The sheer scale of this ship. Keep this to yourselves, but I’m pretty certain they are not ready on the ground for a landing and certainly not on board. But there is no need to worry, the ship is totally sustainable, we won’t run out of solar power and food production is going perfectly.’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKkNlwpajNk&t=26s

THE FIFTH DIMENSION – UP UP AND AWAY…

Tuesday Tiny Tale – A Spare Room

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‘Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own Mum with Dad in the Antarctic?’

‘Everest base camp.’

‘Wherever, I know it’s somewhere cold and far away.’

I was of course looking forward to the peace and quiet. Naturally I had the normal worries about Amy going off to Australia for her gap year, but I was sure she had inherited her father’s adventurous but capable spirit. She was going with Lizzy her sensible best friend, inseparable since nursery.

The first week it was strange, but friends at work suggested a few outings, glad to have a break from their own husbands who showed no inclination to leave Ealing, let alone go on adventures broad.

I had always had Amy and Ben keeping me busy when Kit was away. Now Ben was grown up, in theory at least and teaching English as a foreign language somewhere nearer to Everest than Ealing.

The new girl at work was very quiet, but apparently she was highly regarded down in packing, where I used to work as a part timer when the children were in primary school. She was dexterous and quick and could pack anything. The company specialised in delivering high quality food in designer biodegradable boxes. We would source and deliver any request from romantic ready dinners to Tower Bridge birthday cakes.

I had progressed to tasting and testing and then upwards to the busy office, where we would source unlikely ingredients and make sure no delivery was ever late. I don’t think Kit or the children ever appreciated what a high powered and stressful job I did, especially in the last half a dozen years with all the world’s troubles affecting supplies.

Our boss likes to look after his staff, it’s why I have stayed so long. I was the first to agree we should hang on to Flinty, the new girl. What I didn’t expect was to become a foster mother.

 When the boss said ‘You have a spare room now you’re an empty nester?’

I replied ‘…sort of.’

Flinty had never revealed much about her life and everyone in packing seemed to have heard a different version. Her family lived up north, her mother had gone off to Spain to find herself, her father had just gone off. She was house sharing with uni students, she was house sharing with drug addicts, she was living with her boyfriend’s parents, an aunt had taken her in.

Whatever the truth, it now seemed she was not living anywhere and there was no longer a boyfriend. All she needed was somewhere to sleep for a few nights and HR were going to look into finding her somewhere. She came home with me that evening.

I wasn’t sure how to be a landlady, was I in loco parentis or was she just a lodger? I made us both dinner, thinking of the cosy TV meal I had planned for myself. While it was in the oven I rushed up to Amy’s room and grabbed her personal things and some of the clothes in her wardrobe and stashed everything in Kit’s office that had one been Ben’s bedroom.

Flinty was happy with the room and approved of Amy’s décor. I was thankful I had persuaded Kit last year we should absorb the box room into our bedroom and create an en-suite shower room. Flint was very happy to have exclusive use of the family bathroom.

The next morning we established she would help herself to breakfast, especially as she started work earlier than me. She also assured me that she did not expect me to cook for her and she would ‘sort herself out’.

Over the next few days I realised this meant endless ready meals, mainly eaten in her/Amy’s room. She really wasn’t too much trouble, except for the bin filling up with the ready meal packaging and the washing machine being on when I was in bed. It wasn’t for long, I consoled myself and I only had to call the police once.

I don’t know how the angry ex boyfriend found out where she lived, but she was not pleased to see him, hysterical in fact. The poor neighbours wondered what all the shouting and breaking glass was about and also called the police. We were quite impressed how quickly they turned up. I think old Audrey next door had mentioned guns. The main thing was they took him away and I made coffee for the three of us as the nice woman police officer stayed for a good while. Strangely she had apparently met Flinty before and was surprised I did not know ‘what was going on.’

Flinty retreated to bed as soon as the officer had left. The next morning she sat eating her cereal as if nothing had happened and was soon out the door and off to work.

I checked my phone, not expecting any messages yet from Kit. It was long agreed that I would only hear if there was an emergency when communication was so difficult, so I got a fright when I saw a text message home tonight, broken ankle, don’t worry.

Kit had a charmed life, no harm ever seemed to come to him. At least he wasn’t in hospital and an ankle was hardly the end of the world, but what a time for it to happen. I messaged back to get some idea what time he might arrive, then I had to get myself off to work.

No mention was made of last night’s adventure, if Flinty had told them down in packing, the gossip had not made it upstairs. I got one text from Kit and decided I could just get home before he arrived back.

As I walked up my garden path the front door was flung open, it was not Kit, but Amy.

‘Mum, we’ve had burglars, my room!’

Before I could explain I saw a police car come round the corner followed by a taxi. It was the police woman from last night.

‘Nothing to worry about, this is just a welfare visit.’

Kit was hobbling up the garden path behind her.

Flinty disappeared, she did not return to our house and was never seen at work again. Somehow that made it harder to explain to Kit and Amy what had been going on, when it was as if she had never existed.

The police officer questioned me as if I was hiding her and questioned Amy and Kit as to whether they were involved in ‘all this business.’

Kit questioned Amy as to why on earth she was back so soon. It transpired that she had realised she didn’t like travelling, especially when Lizzie met a chap in the first week and decided to cross the Nullabor Plain with him in his camper van.

I was left to try and explain to the neighbours.

Saturday Short Story 1000 – On The Bus

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Joy had news for our art group, she had her new bus pass… at the age of eighty.

We all had something to say.

About time too, wouldn’t be without mine.

Why did you wait so long. I am looking forward to getting mine, but I’ve got to wait another thirty years.

Are you serious, you have never been on a bus?

‘Unless you count being born on one.’

Our imaginations went into overdrive…

‘At least my mother used to say You must have been born on a bus every time I left a door open.’

Buses have doors these days Joy, the Routemaster has been out of service for twenty years.

Our group varied in age and athletic ability and conversation progressed to discussion of various forms of transport from bicycles to E-scooters and back to cars and buses. Joy was joined at the hip to her car, but it transpired that Joy and the car had both failed their MOT.

‘I didn’t say I was actually going to go on a bus, the bus pass is just in case.’

You must at least have a go.

We all had bus stories, Mandy was expert at manoeuvring her double buggy and six shopping bags on board and I exclaimed how lucky she was to have floors that lowered and space to park. No folding up McClarren buggies for her. Maggie’s bus journey to the hospital to have her baby was equalled by Ron’s travelling from Land’s End to Berwick upon Tweed, using only his bus pass.

The next day I stood at the bus stop with Joy. She had reluctantly agreed to a trial run with moral support. We were at the second stop at the beginning of the route so Joy would be eased gently into the experience. The sunny spring day belied a sharp east wind and I prayed we wouldn’t have to wait long, having told Joy we had two frequent routes to choose from.

 ‘Why are we going into town, aren’t all the shops closing down?’

‘Not all of them, anyway that’s where the bus goes.’

‘How long do we have to wait?’

 ‘Not long, look at the bus ap on my phone, you can see the bus coming up the hill.’

 Joy peered at my phone screen, failing to see the tiny toy bus shaped arrow moving along the map. We were so busy looking, a bus sailed by before I had a chance to put my hand out.

 I always have my bus pass safely in my pocket, ready to produce immediately I’m on board. I hadn’t thought to prepare Joy for the operation. The next bus soon came along, but she spent five minutes fumbling in her handbag for her purse, then five minutes fumbling in her purse for her bus pass. It would have to be that grumpy driver.

I always head straight for the back half of the bus, or better still, upstairs on a double decker, smugly glad I don’t yet have to sit in the front seats with their little signs ‘Please offer these seats to elderly or disabled passengers’. Not actually forbidden so Joy happily plonked herself down in the front seat. I tried to tactfully urge her further back.

‘What was wrong with those seats?’

‘They’re for the elderly and…’

‘How old do you have to be, I’m a pensioner.’

‘But a spritely one, it’s only your eyes that failed the MOT.’

She crossed over the aisle and pulled down a folding seat.

‘The elderly won’t be wanting these ones.’

‘We can’t sit there, that’s the space for wheelchairs and prams.’

‘At least you didn’t make me go upstairs.’

Fortunately the bus soon started filling up with baby buggies, walking sticks and crutches to prove my point.

‘Goodness, how many more walking wounded are coming on board, oh surely she’s not allowed on board with that!’

A lady in a large designer motorised wheelchair/scooter contraption had just about made it up the ramp the driver had put down for her, but it looked as if she was also having her maiden bus trip. Grumpy bus driver set off looking firmly ahead, ignoring the fact that the embarrassed woman was having great trouble manoeuvring into the permitted space. Her face flushed with embarrassment, she pressed buttons and moved a few inches in each direction, ramming a passenger next to the aisle. Her ensuing panic resulted in her being firmly wedged in, preventing anyone getting on or off. I looked across the aisle at the emergency door and back to the window next to Joy, where a sign said In Emergency Break Glass with Hammer. Iwondered where the hammer was.

One passenger did get on and manage to squeeze by, or rather climb over the poor woman. To my horror it was our local ‘character’ Davo. We locals did not need to use the politically incorrect descriptions that came to mind with Davo. Just the mere mention of his name ‘Davo was in the shop’ or ‘Davo came up to our table in the restaurant’ was enough to illicit sympathy and horror.

‘Joy’ I whispered urgently ‘do not look that chap in the eye.’

Unfortunately he started talking in that bellowing voice of his to a young chap behind us, who obviously knew how to wind up Davo for entertainment. That’s when the baby, who had been sleeping peacefully strapped to his mother’s chest, started crying. By this time we had arrived at the stop planned for our disembarking, handy for the few shops in town that hadn’t closed down. It turned out the wheelchair was literally jammed and the driver was radioing his base for help. Luckily it transpired that Davo was an expert at smashing windows and opening emergency doors and the driver couldn’t reach us to stop him.

It was a long way down, but Davo helped us descend, albeit in a rather undignified manner,  bellowing ‘Age before beauty’ before assisting the young mum and other passengers.

Once safely on the pavement, Joy tapped into her phone. ‘Thanks goodness my nephew put the local taxi number into my new phone.’

Thursday Train Tales

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You can read previous train tales here.

Tuesday Train Tales

Be careful what you say, the gods are always listening.

‘Don’t come out again in this awful weather, I don’t need a lift, it’s much quicker on the train.’

It is March 2020, we are about to go into lockdown, but at Southampton Hospital it’s like entering a busy airport terminal with shops and a huge Costa Coffee and other eateries. The only precautions against the new ‘Corona Virus’ are instructions to use hand gel. We and I have been visiting my husband every day.

Now, on a miserable wet late afternoon I manage to find the right bus to the station and saunter in looking around for a window with a human being behind it, so I don’t have to bother with a ticket machine. An androgenous person in a uniform approaches, I wasn’t expecting a welcome party.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I just want a single to Bournemouth.’

‘There are no trains to Bournemouth.’

‘WHAT!’

‘Tree on the line.’

‘So when might there be a train?’

‘Not sure, do you still want to go to Bournemouth?’

‘YES.’

Luckily the platform west has a café and waiting area, now full of grumpy commuters. I am not there long when there is a sudden exodus to the exit, I follow them as they all pile onto a double decker bus, asking if it’s going to Bournemouth. No one actually says no so I rush upstairs and grab the last seat. It is dark and still raining, the windows immediately mist up. If this ‘Corona Virus’ really is so infectious, this is when I’m going to catch it.

I can’t see a thing, no idea where we are, but presumably on the motorway. After a good hour the lights of Bournemouth appear. The train journey takes only 28 minutes if you get a fast train, a fast train being one that mainly stops where I want to go.

There are many good reasons for going by train, keeping traffic off the roads, enjoying a faster smooth journey, looking at the scenery and into people’s back gardens… and of course people watching and eavesdropping.

Autumn 2024 and we are leaving the Isle of Wight. Our lovely little B&B is only minutes from the ferry. This time we have looked on line to check if the trains are running smoothly. They aren’t, it’s Sunday engineering works.

At Lymington we disembark and have plenty of time to file out to the car park and get on a comfortable replacement bus which leaves at exactly the same time as the train would have done. We enjoy a pleasant ride.

At Brockenhurst all was not going well. Confused people were hanging around outside the station waiting their turn to consult a chap with a clipboard and a phone. His jacket says ‘Bus Replacement Service Director’ or some such words. Also ‘on duty’ was a fed up South West Trains chap who wandered off at intervals and returned to make remarks such as ‘Don’t travel on a Sunday, I don’t know what they’re playing at’ and ‘Tell your friends Not to travel next Sunday.’ A young woman in a light blue tabard was trying to be helpful. These light blue people don’t seem to actually belong to the railways; at Bournemouth I had wondered if they were students on work experience as they were very young. I think they might be employed to pass on information, give stress counselling and to take the pressure off other staff.

In the meantime the Replacement Director was doing a grand job in an impossible situation with passengers going in different directions and not enough buses. He promised he would get us taxis if there were not enough bus seats. At one stage a coach turned up already full, turned round in the car park and looked like it was going straight back out again. The Director suddenly grabbed an elderly lady by the arm, frog marched her over to the coach and returned empty handed to address the crowd.

‘I know you’re all going to hate me, but that lady was traveling alone and had been waiting a while to get to Southampton, so I took an executive decision to put her in the only empty seat.’

We couldn’t argue with that and nobody did. We gradually herded ourselves into groups according to destination. A few taxis turned up and some left as The Director remembered who had been waiting longest. In the meantime more passengers drifted in or were dropped off by loved ones expecting to say farewell to them.

A black van with no windows turned up and our Bournemouth group was summoned forward, surely we were not going to be piled in the back of a van like prisoners? It turned out to be a luxury mini bus with tinted windows and curtains. There then followed a tour of the whole of the New Forest as we visited every tiny rural station and halt, seemingly only accessed by narrow winding lanes. At each one we dropped off or picked up someone. It was more than an hour before we arrived at Bournemouth station. The train journey takes 26 minutes. We got home safely, but had not even glimpsed a train all day, let alone been on one.

Did I venture on to a train ever again? Yes, but that’s for another episode…

Have you had any interesting journeys lately?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Lies

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Lies, all lies. Secrets and Lies? No, if I had any secrets I wouldn’t have needed to make up all those lies to sound more interesting on Facebook and WordPress. Today I looked back at the first post on my new blog, Millennium Me.

‘Born as the new millennium started I owe it to the world, to history, to set the design for Twenty First Century Woman. Now in 2016 I know the world is at my feet.’

Okay, so I was born in 1978, nobody could tell from my avatar. It had started as a joke on Facebook where everyone was presenting their oh so fabulous or exciting lives. How do we know any of it is true?

I clicked onto my second blog post.

‘When I left school I vowed never to sit at a desk again. The jungle would be my office, orangutans my colleagues, the desert my holiday breaks.’

My desk job was only meant to last a few months till I had enough money to start my adventures, but every time I thought of leaving I would get one of those persistent colds I’m a martyr to.

2018 and my blog was really taking off.

‘Who would have believed I would celebrate my eighteenth birthday on top of Mount Kilimanjaro, especially after losing my right leg to bone cancer.’

I spent my fortieth birthday quietly, my knee was playing up again so I went to Toby Carvery with Joan from the office, she was glad to have a break from looking after her mother.

2019, romance was in the air and I had more followers than ever.

‘February 14th 2019 – When Your Parents Disapprove of Your Lover.

We were married in a tribal ceremony; just because it was not a recognised marriage in Britain or the catholic church, who cares. We were made for each other, for life, me and my Zulu Warrior.’

2020 and the world wide pandemic found me isolated in KwaZulu Land, truly isolated…

‘I can hardly bear to write that the love of my life has been brutally murdered by an Xhosa warrior.’

I spent all the various lockdowns working from home, one of the handy things about an office job. I had to kill off the Zulu warrior as I have never been further south than the Isle of Wight and I don’t know a lot about Zulus. I was also beginning to get quite a few South African followers and they might have started to get suspicious.

In 2021 I trekked north across the African continent.

‘I spent my twenty first birthday with a Bedouin tribe, never imagining I would find love again. But it was not to be. I was not prepared to share him with his other three wives and I set my goal for the oceans.’

In 2021 I decided after all that lock down business that I needed a holiday, explore some of my own country before venturing abroad. I would have been more adventurous, but I thought taking Joan to Scotland on a coach trip would do her good after the death of her mother.

‘My first blog post for 2022 finds me out on the ocean wide and the oceans are wider than I ever dreamed. Despite having just completed ten rounds of chemotherapy after the return of my cancer, I was determined to take up my place on the round the world yacht race using only seventeenth century navigation techniques. Luckily the other three crew members are experienced.’

The Poole to Cherbourg trip did me a world of good. I loved the open seas and I wasn’t seasick at all during the four and a half hour trip. A chap even chatted me up, but there wasn’t time for a shipboard romance as I had to keep an eye on Joan with her dodgy hip.

In 2023 I have been pondering whether I should wind up this blog. I am beginning to run out of ideas, Liedeas I call them. Revealing that I had just realised I was a Lesbian, or perhaps bisexual had not been a good idea. I received some nasty comments from certain extreme religious groups and also from the LGBTQIA+ community. I think I may have got some of the initials wrong, or at least the right initials, but not necessarily in the right order.

Perhaps I should go out with a bang, reveal the lies, how I fooled all of you…

      

Silly Saturday – Summer Solstice

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Hurrah it’s the longest day of the year; but that doesn’t mean you cannot join in the fun if you are in the southern hemisphere. One of the features of the new WordPress BLOCKS, which not many people are aware of, is the fifth dimension, which only works twice a year at Solstice. Simply click on a picture and you can be transported to that place. A square picture will take you there in the present, a round picture will take you to the exact moment the photograph was taken. Got it? Just make sure you read the complicated WordPress instructions on how to return…

River Avon, Christchurch
Whitby, North Yorkshire
Salisbury, Wiltshire
Ironbridge, River Severn, Shropshire
Bournemouth, Dorset
The Forth Bridge – don’t forget to take your letters to post.
Westminster
Cornwall
Think carefully before choosing this one.
Come in for a cup of tea.

How did you get on? Tell us which was your favourite place.

Silly Saturday – Paddington Pangolin

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 5 Comments

Police are searching for a pangolin believed to have entered the UK illegally. They have appealed for information as to the whereabouts of Penny Peters, head of Pangolin Preservation Project. She is alleged to have smuggled the pangolin in her hand luggage on the last flight back to Britain. Her parents, Polly and Peter Peters, speaking from their home in Surrey, denied their daughter was involved in any sort of crime.
‘Penny loved her job teaching English as a second language and she loves pangolins, but when this virus business started we urged her to get the next flight out. She insisted she couldn’t abandon her pupils or pangolins.’

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Latest Update

Our reporter tracked Penny Peters down to a secret location and she agreed to an exclusive interview.
‘Yes I do know where Paddington Pangolin is, but he will never be safe until he is proved innocent.’
‘What is he accused of?’
At this point Ms Peters broke down in tears.
‘Sorry, sorry, it’s all been so stressful… let me start at the beginning. I rescued him from a wet market, I can’t reveal where for fear of reprisals. I smuggled him out on the last flight out to Heathrow. Then we jumped on the Heathrow Express; I was surprised how easy it all was. But when we arrived at Paddington Railway Station we were surrounded by an angry mob accusing this poor innocent pangolin of starting Corvid19. He fled in panic and I was terrified for his safety. I spent days searching the streets of London for him, wondering if he would find enough ants. Finally I found him in St. James’ Park, he had wanted to see The Queen, but she had already left Buckingham Palace to isolate at Windsor Castle.’
‘That is an amazing story, but surely the general public will only believe you if they actually see Paddington Pangolin?’

Latest Latest Update

Penny Peters agreed to be filmed with Paddington Pangolin on condition their whereabouts is never revealed and that we show the film on national news to expose the plight of pangolins. Tune into the ten o’clock news…

Au Revoir or Adieu?

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 17 Comments

Whether you jet set on business or love going on cruises, you can’t have failed to notice there are more hazards to travel lately. Your cruise ship may weigh anchor and keep all the passengers hostage – in quarantine because of Coronavirus, which we now have to call Covid19, though that doesn’t slip as easily off the tongue. If you’re lucky you may get to have your own videoblog as self appointed spokesman to your national television channel and the folk back home. If you’re unlucky you will have a cabin without a balcony, a government that will not evacuate you and test positive for the virus.

Queen Mary copy
Is flying any better? You may not be allowed on the plane if you have a temperature, you may not be allowed off the plane until you can be hermetically sealed and sent off to a quarantine centre; though that could be the start of a pleasant fortnight’s holiday if a nice hotel has been commandeered. World wide plague is not the only hazard for fliers. Storms hurling themselves across the Atlantic to Europe have caused mass cancellation of flights, but that is better than the Ryanair passengers on a flight from Prague, that in hindsight should have been cancelled. Thrice, pilots attempted to land at Bournemouth Airport as passengers screamed and hyperventilated. They abandoned the attempt and with petrol running low were diverted to Brussels from whence they returned to Prague…

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Although I hardly ever go anywhere outside this kingdom I can give advice on ocean liners and airliners. Cyberson 2, builder and pyrotechnics expert, has often worked at Southampton, sending up fireworks to farewell passengers on their trip of a lifetime, or often their twentieth or perhaps their last… The first time he worked there, one of the regular workers on the docks described the arrival of an ocean liner ‘The first thing that happens, they bring all the bodies off.’ Whether this is due to the age of the passengers, the vast amount of food provided or terminal boredom, I cannot say, but it sounds like a good way to go. Perhaps if you pay extra you can have a burial at sea. My longest voyage was on ‘The Pride of Bilbao’ from Portsmouth to Bilbao and back again on an off season excursion, where the only hazard was the live entertainment.

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Storm Dennis was not the only problem at Heathrow Airport on Sunday as ‘technical issues’ created chaos. Whiteboards, marker pens and extra staff were drafted in to ensure chaos continued. When I worked at Heathrow I won’t pretend I was not occasionally envious of passengers jetting off somewhere exotic, but mostly I was glad I could go home and would always advise DON’T even THINK of flying at Easter or Christmas. One Christmas Eve, working in Singapore Lounge, the evening flight was delayed, putting Christmas on hold in Singapore and Australia for those who celebrated it. I cringed as a young colleague said in a loud voice in front of the passengers ‘That’s ALL I need.’ We would be late finishing, but she only had to get home to Osterley Park and none of us were going to miss Christmas.

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Singapore Airlines treated their customers with oriental respect and had letters printed out and delivered to them explaining delays. When we worked in British Airways lounges catering staff were left to soothe disgruntled passengers. The huge lounge in Terminal 1 catered for the many short haul flights, very different from the serene atmosphere of quieter business lounges. There was an endless  surge of passengers, the buffet bars constantly replenished, platters of sandwiches devoured instantly. I only worked there a couple of times, but one weekend a story came from our colleagues. There was a strike on; passengers kept coming in, but none went out. Then the British Airways staff abandoned the desk leaving the catering staff to deal with the ever increasing braying mob; in the end they called the police.

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What were your worst travel experiences? You can tell us about your good journeys, but that might not be so amusing…