Better late than dead on time

Almost a year ago I embarked on what was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime with my sister. We had planned a spectacular road trip, starting with family in Birmingham and continuing with a road trip to Scotland with our cousin Lynne and my childhood friend Janet. We had spent hours online together planning the details of the journey and were so excited for it. Unfortunately, Anne had a health crisis right before she was supposed to leave on the plane from New Zealand so she stayed home. It was shattering for both of us, but more so, obviously, for Anne. She hasn't been back to England since we left when she was eight, so it was deeply disappointing for her. 

I forged on, discouraged that I would now be making the trip (which had mostly been planned for Anne's benefit) without her. I was, of course, happy to be seeing family and Jan, but the absence of Anne's joy was a bitter pill to swallow.

I arrived at Birmingham Airport via Iceland. We usually fly to England with Iceland Air as they have the best prices and convenient airports. This time I bid on last-minute upgrades so Jeff and I both flew the longest legs First Class. Did I sprawl across the seat and take full advantage of all of the perks? You betcha I did! I even moved my carcass to where there were two empty seats next to each other so that I could sprawl across both of them! 

Lynne picked me up at the airport and spent the next few days spoiling me to death. We went walking several times along the lovely bucolic paths that wind through the area in which they live. We drove out to see the aunties because I couldn't wait until our planned lunch date on Monday to see them. Poor Aunty Marg had injured her hand very badly when her kitchen cupboard fell off the wall and it wasn't healing well. But she was still as ornery and lovely as ever. Uncle Fred had died since my last visit and he was sorely missed. Aunty Con was as chipper as ever and filled my head with stories of her life with Uncle Dick. I love these ladies so much. 

On Sunday Lynne and I went to church. I wrote about the service on facebook and I am going to just quote that, because I wrote it on the same day and I was so delighted by the whole thing that I can't improve on the sentiments:

Only my Mormon friends who know me well will appreciate how happy church attendance made me today. My cousin and I walked to church and it was a long enough walk that I knew I wouldn't be able to wear dress shoes, so I donned my trusty walking shoes and a pair of pants (because even I can't wear walking shoes with a dress) and off we went. I sat and enjoyed watching people file into this small chapel, listening to the Brummie accents and feeling quite at home. Then right before the meeting, one of the men on the stand asked if anyone played the organ or piano. I hesitantly raised my hand because, you know, wearing pants, but no one else seemed to care so up I went. So today I played the organ in church on Easter Sunday while wearing a pair of not very dressy pants. And several people came up to me afterwards and thanked me sincerely for playing, And no one mentioned the pants or even looked at them.

Then the first musical number was In the Garden, sung a cappella by a German mother and daughter. They sang the first verse in German and the mother cried. The second number was a duet sung by a young husband and wife, The Old Rugged Cross, accompanied by guitar. And no one raised an eyebrow. It was glorious. I sing these two hymns frequently with my Alzheimer's groups and it always elicits emotional connections for them, but I have never heard them in our church before. 

And last, but not least, my dear cousin sitting next to me.

Best Easter Sunday ever.

And that remains one of my best memories of my journey.

We met up with the aunties and cousin Mandy for lunch in a very noisy restaurant. It was deliciously uproarious. Here is Con, listening intently.

Margy and Pat.

Lynne had been unsure of whether or not she would be able to join Jan and me on the trip as well, as Richard had been very sick after their trip to Dubai, but he was recovering nicely so I was hopeful that she would change her mind. Then several other family members got sick and she decided she needed to stay and take care of them. I was disappointed again and feeling guilty for being completely selfish in worrying more about my own disappointment than everyone else. Guilt is not a pleasant companion. 

Jan was very brave and agreed to drive her car, as the original plan was for Lynne to drive Richard's car. She had little experience driving such long distances as those we had planned. Steve had done most of the driving, as husbands are wont to do. Steve had also passed since our last visit and was sadly missed. We left on Tuesday morning, April 18th, by way of the M6 north toll road. Jan decided toll roads are a good thing because there was much less traffic than the regular motorways. Less traffic is good. Our destination was the Lake Country and then on to Carlisle for the night. 

We stopped off at Ullswater Lake at Glenridding and did a smallish hike. Jan does a lot of tramping and is prone to leave me in the dust, hence the many photos of her back as she walks ahead of me. 

Ullswater Lake is the second largest lake in the Lake District. It's not very populated but is a popular destination for those with sailing boats and, of course, trekkers. We started at Glenridding, which suffered severe storm damage in 2015. The effects were still apparent in some places.

We begin our walk.

I rather loved these sheep.

I felt rather lucky to be here in the Lake District again. Life slows down here and everything is green and mossy.

There she goes.

And I am huffing and puffing in the rear.

And the view from the top was lovely.

And there were lambies.

After our wee walk we drove to Monkcastle for the night, where we had booked an airbnb flat. It was a grand country house on a farm of sorts and we think our flat was a converted stable. We had meant to stop and buy some meat for our dinner but hadn't passed any likely places, so were a bit puzzled about what we would eat for dinner. Luckily, the nice host offered us some fresh broccoli rabe from her garden, so we cooked it with some of my gluten-free pasta that I had brought along and enlivened it with butter from the fridge. It wasn't exactly gourmet fare but it tasted good to our hungry tongues.

The flat was adorable and we happily retired to our separate bedrooms after a walk around the property. I read for a while and noticed an intermittent beep from the hallway. Jan had removed her cochlear implant so was undisturbed. As I tried to fall asleep the beeping grew more insistent and it was clear that I was to get no sleep until I fixed the noise. I finally narrowed the beep down to a smoke alarm in the hallway, which was right over the stairwell. I tried calling the host, then knocking on their door (it was after midnight by then) and nothing was giving me joy. I attempted to stand on a chair and reach the alarm to take out the battery, but decided it wasn't worth risking my life. Jan was still sleeping and oblivious and I kind of hated her for it.

The next morning, after no sleep, we told the host of the problem and she was mortified. I was almost delirious from lack of sleep but the good thing is she refunded our money. It's just as well Jan was the driver, so we set off for Glasgow and the beginning of our Scotland adventure via Carlisle and Gretna Green.

Nana Files Day Four: a mishap or two

Seven o'clock arrived just as promptly as ever and we made a quick start on the morning by playing outside. It was sunny and windy and cool. The girls discovered the joy of wall sitting.  And we kicked balls around. 

We took a morning break from the TV, much to London's disgruntlement, and listened to children's songs on Alexa. There was much singing and dancing.

It was a nice overcast day, so after nap (Scarlet slept for three hours, I think I am wearing the little darlings out) we set off for the first park again in the wagon. I felt pretty energetic, much less achy than I've been for a while, so I figured the exercise was doing me good. We were almost to the water tower when I realised that one of the girls' water bottles was missing. Miss Scarlet must have biffed it over the side. Casualty number one of the day. I decided to wait until the walk home to look for it, as we were more than halfway to the park.

Miss London was full of smiles on the swing again.

And Scarlet rampaged all over the play structure, waving at everyone she saw. The girl has never met a stranger.

We had gotten a late start on the adventure, thanks to Scarlet's long nap, so it was after five when I finally talked London into leaving. I had promised her that we would stop by the lake to feed some bread crusts to the ducks, so we went home a different way. We were walking on the path by the lake and I was thinking to myself how nice it felt to be walking and not be in any kind of pain when BAM! I hit the ground, making a very inelegant and primal noise as I fell. I lay there for a moment, feeling all of the pain that had been absent a moment before, and a nice lady came up and asked if I was okay. I checked myself over, noting bruised knees and palms and wounded pride, but nothing apparently serious. She helped me to my feet and I hobbled off. 

We stopped a few yards on to feed the ducks and a couple of geese who were, of course, voracious in their feeding and so London hot-footed it back to the wagon and Scarlet chased the birds. Scarlet threw an 8.5 on the Richter scale fit when I made her get back in the wagon and then I noticed that my favourite Vista balloon cap was gone. I had put it on Scarlet's head because the wind was nearly at gale force and I thought it would help protect her little face. I was reluctant to allow another casualty of the outing so I retraced my steps and luckily it was lying in the middle of the path, just around the corner of the lake. 

On we went. Pretty soon, Scarlet had had enough of being in the wagon and so had London, so London pulled the wagon while I held Scarlet's hand. The going was veeeerrrrryy slow.

We made a detour back to the highway where the water bottle had escaped. I figured there was a slim chance we might find it on this part of the route. We arrived at the intersection and I scanned back down the road where we wouldn't be walking in case it was visible. Nope. Then London said, Look Nana, the top of the water bottle! I couldn't see it at first and doubted her, but then I saw it, sitting on the grass on the corner. It was only the top and it had obviously been run over by a car, but what are the odds of it being right there where we joined up with the highway? Bizarre. Sorry Sam.

The highway was a wind tunnel, it was ferocious. We were walking into the wind, poor Scarlet was facing it and there was not a thing I could do. She pulled her coat up to her face and sucked madly on her thumb. The poor dear was terribly tired but was such a trouper. 

Neither child took much convincing at bedtime. 

Me, I took three ibuprofen and watched the latest episode of Mercy Street then went to bed. I feel better than I thought I would this morning, just some stiffness in the parts that hit the ground, so the damage must not have been too bad. Either that, or I have mad recovery skills. 

If you know me, you will be surprised at this next photo. I think it's the first picture I have ever posted of a cat anywhere. Mad Max and I have a tenuous relationship. He claimed my stomach a couple of nights ago and I was okay with it until he started attacking my nice new watch that my honey gave me for Valentine's Day. Then he was ousted. 

I'm not sure who will be happier to see Mommy and Daddy, Max or the girls!

Day 1: Groggy in Glasgow

My first view of Scotland was breathtaking. It was through the window of our Icelandair Boeing 757 and the veil of grittiness in my eyes from watching movies all night. 

I loved Glasgow airport, it's not too big and customs was easy-peasy. As in, do you have anything to declare? No? Off you go then!

But drama happens.

In the weeks before we left on this trip, I spent countless hours preparing a folder containing a detailed itinerary, tickets to various attractions, receipts, and maps. I had rented a little Fiat 500 from Europcar through a third party company called Auto Europe and I had double-checked that everything was covered in the rental price, including insurance, because we had been taken by surprise by added charges in previous travels. Imagine my horror when the lady behind the Europcar desk refused to let me take the car unless I paid twenty pounds a day for insurance coverage. That would have more than doubled the cost of the car. It took about 30 minutes on the phone to Auto Europe to find out that for an extra $30 we could be fully covered by them for the whole trip. Win for me, especially considering that I managed to remain polite to the Europcar person throughout the encounter. 

And. 

This was the car we paid for:

And this was the car we got. It might look the same, but it's a Kia diesel and has four doors. It is still very maneuverable and easy to park. We have decided that we probably wouldn't have fit our luggage in the back of the Fiat.

It was an uncertain day weather-wise, which, as we have learned, is the norm in Scotland and northern England. 

If you don't know, I always drive when we travel to countries where driving is on the left side of the road. It was how I learned to drive so, theoretically, it comes back to me fairly easily. So here I was, twenty-four hours without sleep, driving on the wrong side of the road with a manual gear shift, getting lost every time we got to a roundabout because Jeff was trying to navigate for me using my Mapquest printouts and failing miserably, trying to decipher all of the unfamiliar road signs in a city that does its best to hide street names on the sides of the buildings, and having small and frequent moments of panic. It was with much joy that the person who was renting her flat to us through airbnb was able to talk us (over the phone) into her road. It was with great gratitude that I parked the car in a very small space between two other cars.

This street, known as Pollockshaws, was a short walk from the flat and later we found a wonderful organic bakery and several good restaurants on it.

We took a short nap and then I dared to take to the streets again. We visited the Botanic Gardens and, it being Saturday, lots of families were out taking in some fresh air and enjoying the gardens.

We have been to better botanical gardens, but the greenhouses were pretty spectacular. There was a whole chain of greenhouses attached to each other, all with different themes. I found a little bit of New Zealand in one of them.

And these pitcher plants were in the "killer plants" greenhouse, which was the best show of carnivorous plants I've ever seen.

Proof that we were there.

On the way back to where we had parked the car, we heard bagpipes. 

Bagpipes are like honey to our ears, so we followed the sound to this school.

And this young man was piping his heart out by the front door. I think it was a back-to-school night or some such thing. He gave Jeff permission to take his photo.

We drove back to Torrisdale Street and ate dinner at Buddy's BBQ and Burgers, where I ate poutine for the first time. It was delicious, and there was enough for dinner the next night. Jeff had a burger. Of course. 

I had pre-paid for tickets that evening to the Scottish Fiddle Orchestra, which was to be at the Royal Glasgow Concert Hall in the middle of downtown Glasgow. We nixed the car and took the train into downtown. The station was just across the wall from the flat, so it was a short walk on that end. Which was just as well, because after the five-minute train ride, we couldn't seem to get our bearings in the downtown area and find the concert hall. Most people that we asked didn't know where it was, and the ones that gave us directions were wrong. After walking hither and yon for about 30 minutes we finally arrived, hot and sweaty, just in the nick of time.

It was a perfect concert, the audience was well-behaved, and the icing on the cake was that Princess Anne, who is the royal patron of the orchestra, was attending the concert. My first time ever in the presence of royalty! I'm not much of a royalty-chaser, but I like Anne for several reasons. She is thrifty, and actually wears outfits more than once. This website has an interesting look at some of them. She is patron to over 200 organizations and carries out over 700 royal engagements and public appearances every year. She has been known to be grumpy in public, but also has a sense of humour. Apparently, she hasn't changed her hairstyle in several decades. What's not to like, I say. This is a fun little article about her.

But I digress.

Many of the numbers were foot-stomping and hand-clapping kinds of songs. Some were sentimental melodies and I'm pretty sure the old gentleman next to me wiped tears from his eyes a time or two. A mezzo-soprano and a tenor joined the orchestra for some songs. But the best part was when the First Troon Boys Brigade Piper Band joined in.

The photos stink, but I have included a YouTube video of the two performing together a few years ago.

There were six piano accordions in the back row. 

And two Scottish dancing sisters.

And sometimes the accent of the announcer was so broad that we couldn't understand a word he was saying. But we understood most of this poem when he recited it from memory:

McAllister Dances Before the King

Clansmen, the peats are burning bright,

Sit round them in a ring.

And I will tell of that great night

I danced before the king.

For as a dancer in my youth,

So great was my renown,

The king himself invited me,

To visit London town.

My brand new presentation kilt

And ornaments I wore;

And with my skein dhu,

I rapped upon the door.

Soon I heard a Lord or Duke

Come running down the stairs,

And to the keyhole put his mouth,

Demanding who was there!

"Open the door!" I sternly cried,

"As quickly as you can.

Is this the way that you receive

A Scottish gentleman?"

The door was opened; word went round,

"McAllister is here."

And with the news, the palace rang

With one tremendous cheer.

The King was sitting on his throne,

But down the steps he came.

Immediately the waiting Lord

Pronounced my magic name.

And all the ladies of the court

With pearls and jewels bedecked,

Did blush and tremble as I bowed

To them with due respect.

Slowly at first, with hands on hips,

I danced with ease and grace.

Then raised my hands above my head

And swifter grew my pace.

At last no human eye could see

My step so light and quick.

And from the floor great clouds of dust

Came rising fast and thick.

The Kind was greatly moved and shook

My hand in friendship true.

"Alas," he said, "Although a king,

I cannot dance like you." 

And the the gracious Queen herself

Came shyly o'er to me,

And pinned a medal on my breast

For everyone to see.

Her whisper I shall ne'er forget,

Nor how her eyes grew dim.

"Ach, where were you, McAllister,

The day I married him!"

But the best part was Auld Lang Syne at the end when the whole audience crossed arms and held hands and sang along. It was a fitting finale. 

One curious thing was that no one gave a standing ovation at the end. I have often thought that audiences in the US have devalued standing ovations by giving them too readily, when one should be reserved for a special honour after an outstanding performance. This audience of reserved Scottish men and women were obviously beyond moved by the performance, but only stood to sing the final song. I tend to relate to that reserve even now, after living most of my life outside of the UK. 

And one final photo of the railway station as we waited for our late train.

There's something that I really like about railway stations late at night.

Freecycle and two lovely chairs

You know me, always with an eye for a bargain, so when I learned about Freecycle a few years ago I was very interested in joining our local group. The only catch was, you had to have a Yahoo account, as Freecycle runs in Yahoo Groups, and Yahoo and I can't seem to get along, so it never happened.  

Well, I've been so active in bartering and garage saling (the correct spelling, according to Wikipedia, the Fount of All Knowledge) lately that I decided to have another go at it. I somehow managed to navigate the perils of Yahoo Groups just enough to register and get on their email list. To this day, I have not been able to remember my moniker and password, so all I can do is respond to emails, not post anything. 

But I did score two heavy wooden kitchen chairs, made in Yugoslavia, a couple of months ago, with the intent of re-finishing them and taking them out to Vista House. A coat of de-glosser, courtesy of Bethany, five coats of light yellow satin wall paint, and three coats of polycrylic finish later and my lovely chairs are sitting with me out at the house and my heart is happy every time I look at them.

Too bad I didn't take any before photos, but trust me, their varnish was ragged and they had seen some rough times. I should have primed them, hence the many coats of paint and still they were not hardy, so further hence the coats of polycrylic, which is my new secret weapon.

Before the coats of finish, I applied some whimsical transfers that I had floating around the spare bedroom.

Really, I did! 

Proving my husband wrong, once again!

They fit the bird theme quite nicely, and all they cost me was a bundle of hours and about $25 for the can of finish and a good paintbrush. But, as Bethany kindly pointed out, when I use them for my next project, they will be free.

And free is a very good price.