Song of the day: “Leaving on a jet plane” by John Denver. I’ve had this in my head every now and then during the course of the past couple of weeks, which isn’t all that strange, I’ll admit.
So I’m back home, naturally…although it was debatable for a while there. Turns out that my flight home was canceled due to the airport strikes in France. Didn’t see that one coming, that’s for sure. Here I was already mentally going over everything that had to be done before my flight the next day, and wham, there was the SMS, followed by an email, telling me that I had to cancel or reschedule a flight…which wasn’t all that easy considering I got the mail after seven PM and the offices closed at six. Then the next morning the lines were so busy that they advised to call later, which I did, multiple times, until I finally got through the next day and sorted everything out.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Last time I wrote while sitting on the grass in Kent, so let’s see if I can take it from there.
I had a wonderful walk through lush pastures and fields, climbed fences and hedges, soaked up the richly scented air, took pictures galore, and plucked a whole bunch of wildflowers just for the heck of it.
It was a good time to settle in the three dogs we brought there, and the cats. I think they will be fine, in time, seeing as they’re reunited with their mistress, and it was good for me to see them settled and say goodbye at my leisure.
Had times that I was seriously bored out of my mind with nothing to do but socializing in the evening (what can I say, I’m a workaholic and if I don’t put in at least a 10 hour work day, I get itchy), but still, it was a novel experience.
Did fill most of my days cooking, most of the meals worked out marvelously, which is never a bad thing. Also, I liked the challenge of cooking with hardly anything in store. It means applying creativity and frugality. Basically I recycled every single leftover, and used it in a new meal, meaning that except for some lettuce and some icky French cheeses, the fridges were empty the day before my departure. That’s when I made an actual list and had my host buy some stuff for a proper goodbye meal. All in all, it worked out fine…but boy did I drink way too much wine during my stay there. Those Brits sure can drink. Hah.
But anyway, my flight toward the Netherlands was incredibly early. Somewhere round seven, meaning I had to be at the airport at five, leave from the house at four, and thus get up a quarter to three so I’d be ready. Rushed through breakfast too much, of course, so when I had to fiddle with the navcom my stomach started to seriously complain, forcing my driver to stop by the side of the road so I could empty myself of the contents…better by the side of the road rather than my host’s new Land Rover with its cream leather seats, right? *snort*
This flight went without a hitch. Took about fifty-five minutes to reach the airport in Dusseldorf/Weeze, and I needed to wait there about twenty minutes for Cousin Ed and Tenant to come pick me up. Was a happy affair in total, especially tenant who got choked up, of course. There were long talks on the way to their new place, which was almost an hour’s ride.
First thing we did, (after food and unpacking a bit) was take a wonderful walk in a nearby park where dogs were allowed to run free. A good place there, in particular basically the whole park was accessible for tenant’s wheelchair. And everything was so wonderfully green again.
Was a tad late getting to bed again (I’ll sleep when I’m dead, we might as well say, right?) and the next day getting started was more than a little difficult. No helping it, though, a visit to Sally was in the plan, so we packed up tenant and the dogs, drove the distance, took a small walk near a big pond, and then went in the care home that is at this time Sally’s home.
It was startling to see her that way. They’d taken her out of her bed for a change, and she was sitting in the general area with her sister, who was feeding her lunch. So sad, not to mention shocking to see her now very frail body hang in this huge black chair, her head lolling to the side and her eyes swollen shut. There was little left of the boisterous woman I remember, that is to say, nothing was left, just a suffering shell. There seemed to be some recognition on her part, but communication was iffy at best. Neither Tenant nor I could hold back some sniffles as we sat there, watching her being fed. In the end, Tenant preferred to be rolled over to the window so she could look outside, and Sally’s sister and Cousin Ed had to leave to speak with the staff of the home, leaving me alone with her.
We talked a bit about the past, about her favorite food and grandpa and the dogs, and then she dozed off a bit. When she woke up again, she was a bit clearer and some more talk led to her laughing just a moment before pain in her chest hit her. She moaned pitifully then, which was hard. So I sat there, and held her hand and told her to squeeze if she wanted. She did.
It is a horrible thing to witness, I’ll admit, and watching her suffer I couldn’t do anything but whisper to her: “It’s okay. You can let go now. You did what you had to. You can just rest now. Just go to sleep and drift away,” which had her cry in relief, I thought. She calmed down soon thereafter, and with the promise of a painkiller she was soon driven away to her room so she could rest.
A difficult afternoon that, but we didn’t have long to linger on it, since we drove straight through to tenant’s daughter for a quick visit. Son in law was having an exposition, so after lemonade and cake (which we’d brought along) we spent some time in the gallery looking at portraits by him. Tenant really loved it, especially our visit to his art studio with smelled of oils and turpentine. It was fun.
Once home was when I got the news about my cancelled flight, so between everything, we planned a visit to the place where I lived several years of my childhood, way back when. It was really close to where Cousin Ed and Tenant live, so it seemed like a nice trip to make. It was.
First Cousin Ed and I took a really long nightly walk with the dogs, though. It was dark out already, but the night wasn’t too called, so we walked for about an hour and a half, talking of the things that had changed and the things that were still the same.
For a while now Cousin Ed has been wondering about maybe doing a visit to Spain, if only to see the last of her dogs, which grandpa is taking care of, but when I showed her some pictures, she changed her mind. It’s a sad sight for sure.
Anyways…the next day we had our outing.
For several hours we wandered through the dense beech forest that lay around the old estate that used to be home. The impressive lawns. The estate gardens and in the end even the massive villa that has at some point in the past few years been turned into an apartment complex.
We had a wonderful long walk through the woods, despite tenant’s wheelchair. There were moment where we feared we weren’t going to make it through the mulled forest earth, but I managed to lift and drag her through without incident. She did have a few scared moments where she moaned for big brother, but we got through it in one piece. Thankfully.
We met this really nice lady who lived there and we talked for a while before she offered for us to come with her into the main lobby.
It was rather wonderful, actually, to see the inside again. Where used to be the huge dining room with the endless white table-cloth tables used to stand, there was now a fancy lobby in which we got tea and a cookie as we talked and compared the changes to what I still had in my mind.
As I sat there, staring outside, I could still see the young people walking outside in their early eighties outfits, their long sleek hair, and the tents from when the workshops used to be, and all those memories that spun through my mind like some faded movie. Strange how you can recognize color schemes and shapes from so long a time ago, isn’t it. And the smell, despite all the changes, a hint of the old smell was still there. Amazing.
It was a wonderful afternoon.
The next day there were several activities planned for tenant, so Cousin Ed and I were on our own. We decided to go to another place where I used to live, to the heath fields close to the woods I used to call home. First we checked out the old village though. That is where I came upon my former stepfather, who works at townhall. There was some initial discomfort when we first recognized each other, and exchanged the usual pleasantries, then, as we went for a walk along the docks of the river, we both relaxed enough to show an interest in each other’s lives. It has been many years since I last saw him, and the resentments I used to feel have thankfully disappeared. Strange how time does that, isn’t it? Guess the distance of time does work miracles. Now there was just curiosity as to the man he has become, and enjoying the few discoveries I made during our talk.
We talked a bit about the younger sibs, who are his kids, and how there are genetics at play that remind me of him sometimes, which made him smile proudly, as it should.
Within a short time we said our goodbyes, though, that being his lunch time and all, and I was off to meet Cousin Ed for a drink before we headed up the mountain for our walk.
As for the remainder of the day, we visited Cousin Ed’s brother, who was happy to receive unexpected visitors (we picked up tenant first, seeing as she is rather fond of the man) and with whom I had a nice long talk about literature. Had crackers with cheese and tea, and plenty of talking in this cute little yard at the back of the house. His pride and joy, apparently.
Arrived back at the house before nightfall, big brother had sorted most of my new ticket out, all I had to do was reach the airplane company to sort out the remaining mess of a refund. Regretfully, due to the strikes, we didn’t manage to get a flight until Friday, and since the airport I arrived at only had a flight out on Sunday, my plane left from Köln, a good 161 km away from tenant’s and Ed’s place…that meant getting to bed on time and forfeiting the swim we had planned on, darn it. Really was looking forward to a swim at a big pool.
But okay, got everything packed, stocked the loads of licorice the family ordered into my backpack, had to leave behind some stuff to make room, and were up and about at five in the morning.
Arrived at the airport in time, made my flight and was back home just a couple of hours after noon. Yay. Big brother and grandpa were waiting for me and drove me home to the doggies in record time. The first moment I called them from my chair on the terrace they were a bit startled, but then they recognized me and came storming at me. Poor Knight slipped in his rush, and slammed into the table, but then he plunked his behind onto my lap and refused to budge for a solid fifteen minutes regardless of the heat. So that about sums it up, doesn’t it.
The whole strike thing made the adventure a lot more expensive than planned, of course. I had planned on spending maybe 100 bucks on food and treats, and ended up spending more than four-hundred due to car rental, mostly, and food and treats, of course. A week’s wages gone without a trace, but what the heck. It’s not like there will be a lot more opportunities to see both tenant and Sally.
First thing I did once the dogs calmed down was take a nap, and then we had to go out the grocery store because big brother and grandpa just used everything up and didn’t get anything new while I was gone, grrrr. Didn’t get to bed until after two in the morning, of course. Too many doggies to pet and correspondence to day, I guess.
So today was the first day back home for really, with the first day back at work, and it was okay. Nothing too strenuous, just the usual.
And that, sort of, concludes today’s blog. I gotta go.
