As I finish packing, cramming the last few items in an already full case, I reflect on all the travel difficulties we’ve faced over the last few years. In 2019, plans to see our children in Maine were in full swing. A kennel had been booked for elderly Bruno, our French rescue dog, flights to the US reserved and hotels booked at Heathrow, Boston and Portland. But then Covid hit and I was forced to cancel everything. Virgin Atlantic at first refused a refund until, eventually, themselves having to cancel the flight, they gave us our money back. For the two hotels booked via Booking.com and Expedia, I never did get a refund. Fast forward to today. I’ve booked directly with each hotel, and I’m about to print boarding passes. We no longer need a kennel as, sadly, Bruno passed away. But still problems have overwhelmed us at every stage - from anxiety over mandatory pre-departure Covid tests 24h before, to digital Esta forms, to new biometric passports, threats of airport disruption, no trains and insufficient baggage handlers, etc. Thought holidays were supposed to be for relaxation. Will we finally get to see our children in Maine? Wait for the next exciting(!) episode…
19th June 2022
Last night I was watching clips of Paul McCartney at 80 on the BBC. It struck me that, despite melodic diversity, his lyrics touched the essence of the common man. And then the news came on about the rail strikes and my heart sank. Why can’t the ‘common’ man see how foolish it is to listen to strong union leaders? Don’t they remember the chaos of the Arthur Scargill years when the country was brought to its knees by self-aggrandising men? Compared to bus drivers earning c.£22,000, train drivers earn c.£54,000. And for such workers to earn even more, the British public must suffer yet again? Another news item caught my eye. A scheme offering emergency, interest-free loans to people with nothing, who would otherwise be turned down. It’s backed by the government but run by credit unions and other lenders. That, alongside generous payments to the financially vulnerable to help with heating costs, should be headlined and lauded. That’s what a government is for: to help the person “wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door.”
12th June 2022
Authors are always told: write about what you know. But as you grow older, the experiences you’ve lived through become ever more complex. Are today’s children happier than when I grew up in the ‘50s? Are their mobile phones any substitute for the imaginative play shown in the film link below? People thought differently back then. I didn’t have to make any ‘special’ friends. I simply played with all the children who happened to live in my road. In the school holidays and weekends, I was sent out to play and told to come back at tea time. We all played elaborate games with a minimum of playthings. If no-one had anything, we ran up the gulleys which surrounded our road and played in the dirt on bombsites. At 5 I went on my own, on the Midland Red bus, to my dance school - 5 miles away. Looking back, I don’t believe it was any safer back then. Most things which happened locally were never reported, so we lived our lives in carefree ignorance. Sometimes there was a rumour of a ‘dirty old man’ in a raincoat…..but we all just giggled and ran away. So, my memories, blurry with time, compete with my love of wartime adventures, as told by my father, plus my humorous adventures in France. My life so far has been an eclectic mix, as reflected in my fiction and non-fiction - sometimes serious, sometimes funny, but I hope always interesting! As Joni Mitchell said: you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.
5th June 2022
A week of marmalade sandwiches, street parties, Diana Ross, and Prince Charles paying an emotional tribute to ‘Mummy’. For once it didn’t matter that England lost a football match. Throughout the UK, the people came together as one to laud what’s never happened before and may never happen again: a British monarch ruling for 70 years. Pomp and ceremony are what we do best. From Trooping the Colour to the crowds lining the Mall, and the spectacular red, white and blue Red Arrows display - it made us all, from whatever background or ethnicity, proud to be British. I was 5 when Princess Elizabeth was crowned in 1953. Every child back then received a coronation mug, and many were the street parties where sandwiches, jelly and tea were in abundance. I don’t know how the amazing photo below was done, but what an iconic image it is. It seems to say that, despite all the hurdles and difficulties over the years, you finally made it. Oh how I wish that I, too, after 70 years had an opportunity to say to my younger self “don’t worry; it’ll be all right in the end!”
