It’s been hectic

G’day all, The following posts may help to explain why I haven’t been visiting your pages or replying to likes or comments

In April we had decided to go to the New South Wales, Wagga Wagga Grey Nomads Easter … Stone the Crows festival … this was our third time attending the fun filled five day Easter break.

Once the festival was over we called into my Aunt Tup’s farm, where I stayed on for a further two weeks, while hubby returned home with the caravan, so he could take over from our friend and our daughter, the chore of tending to our two dogs, the cat, our two pet sheep along with countless feathered friends that share our little corner of the world.

Hubby then made the five hour trip back to the farm to collect me when my two weeks were up. I had only been home a week when I received a call from my friend Patricia, telling me her brother Joe was gravely ill, and she was going to go visit him in the UK as soon as she could get a plane ticket.

I had actually accompanied Pat on a trip to visit Joe and his wife Norma, twelve years ago; staying with them for an exciting month. Realising this wasn’t going to be a happy fun visit I asked who was going to accompany her, and was shocked to hear she was going alone.

Not believing what I was hearing I said to hubby that no one should have to make a trip like this alone, he was the last remaining member of her immediate family. The upshot being I offered to accompany her again if she would like me too, and within twenty four hours of that phone call we are both on a plane to the Uk.

The following is a daily diary of our trip

Day 1.

Well here I am in good old England, Sunday 3rd May. Their time and date … A Sunny day

 Leigh, (by the way, he told me he doesn’t like being called Leigh James, prefers just Leigh), drove Patricia, Bill and myself to the airport,  while we were all sitting having  farewell coffee,  a sudden thought flash, prompted  the question …Guess what I forgot to pack ?…  The astonishment on their faces when told … slacks or jeans … was almost worth the ruddy inconvenience, not to mention extra expense, or, for that matter the personal rubbishing this omission was going to cause.

The first leg of the flight, from Melbourne to Abu Dhabi (an airport a couple of hours drive from Dubai) took about 14 long hours, Pat slept, I dozed here and there, this being a tad unusual for me, but under the circumstances of the past couple of days, not surprising. The two hour wait to catch the adjoining flight on to Manchester was taken up getting through customs, on arrival, and again ready for departure. This final leg of our journey took about 7 hours, again sleep eluded me, not, so Pat.

The arrival itself was uneventful, Susan and John were there to meet us as planned, and they drove us straight here to Norma and Joe’s home, a charming brown brick semi detached house, snowy white lace curtains in the front window that overlooks a bed of brilliant bluebells bathing in the afternoon sunshine. I having holidayed here once before with Pat twelve years ago, then Pat again with her hubby only two years ago, were greeted with a delightful warm welcoming hug, a much needed coffee break, and a chat to bring Pat up to date on Joe’s condition, after which it was off to the hospital.

Understandably It was a mixed emotional time for Patricia, the joy of not only knowing she had arrived  in time to say good bye to her only brother, but to have him alert enough to recognise and greet her, a sad albeit bitter sweet moment. I also was recognised but of cause there was no verbal exchange, he needs his remaining energy to   just keep going. We visited with him for only an hour or so and again returned to Norma’s, and what was to be our home for the next couple of months.

It was a unanimous vote that resulted in us all enjoying a light dinner of toasted cheese sandwiches, Pat’s favourite English cake and a cuppa of our choice, finalising in more family chat before sleepily heading off to our respective beds, it had been a very long, tiring, emotionally charged twenty four  hours.

            I’d been allotted the upstairs bed room, accessed by climbing a rather narrow staircase consisting of fifteen steps, not exactly climbing Mt Everest, but would definitely turn out to prove a muscle toner by the end of our visit. It had, I was led to believe been Norma and Joe’s room prior to his health starting to fail, transferring to the ground floor being easier for both of them.

The room itself wasn’t large as far as some bedrooms go, although had a very feminine cosiness that was welcoming, cream textured paper covered both walls and the rather low slightly domed ceiling.  Apricot sateen like drapes incorporating a delicate rose motif, frame a lace covered window, that when pulled apart allows the morning sun to take full advantage of the large dressing table mirror on the opposite side of the room, to not only reflect the daylight streaming in, but to softly identify and complement the double bed’s dainty floral counterpane, a mid brown leaf pattern overlaying a bone coloured carpet unobtrusively melding this little room into a suggestion of peace and tranquillity.

To be  coninued


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