Journey

Travel is exciting. The processes we go through when planning, packing and setting off on a journey is all part of the ritual. How many outfits to take, what time to set off for a timeous arrival at check in. How many books to take - all part of the preparation for an adventure. My first couple of trips as a youngster were punctuated by travel sickness. Travelling through Wales on the backseat of a coach in the early sixties proved too much for my stomach. Similarly, my first flight on a BAC111 to Jersey from the then Speke airport also set me off. I am relieved to say that I improved with time.

My longest flight came in 2000 when I took my two children on a visit to my cousin in South Africa. Fourteen hours - far too long really but we all coped well. Unfortunately we had a four hour stop-over at Paris Charles De Gaulle, with a courtesy meal that affected my son. On arrival he had food poisoning from some less than fresh crevettes and spent three days very sick until we purchased some suppositories that sorted him out. 

The South African adventure was fantastic. We spent three days at the Pilanesberg game reserve, having close encounters with hippos, giraffes and twin cheetah cubs. We barbequed, swam in the Indian Ocean at Umhlanga near Durban and met real Zulu tribesmen and women who performed a dance in full costume on the lawn in front of our accommodation there. 

It was the first of many adventures with the kids. Two years later we headed off to Egypt. The Valley of the Kings, Temple of Luxor, Temple of Karnak,  Temple of Philae and the Aswan Dam. I liked to educate them through travel. They longed for a simple beach holiday but I am not that kind of Mum. 

The next trip was to Sorrento on the Amalfi Coast with visits to Pompeii and Positano. I love Italy. My parents took me to Venice where I returned on honeymoon. We went to the Lido and a gondolier lifted me on his back and ran with me across St Mark's Square. My new husband was flabbergasted and asked. "Where do you know him from?" Silly man - but it was so exciting!

My more recent trips have been without the kids in the company of the man in my life. We have been to many of the Greek Islands in the last decade. We began in Kefalonia, then Crete, my favourite. As you can already tell, I am a big history buff. The Homer poem about the island of Crete caught my imagination in grammar school and was always a future destination. I was not disappointed - the museum at Heraklion was incredible.  The ancient city of Knossos, although rebuilt in simulation, was incredible. 

I loved the beauty of the harbour in Kos and the ruins in Rhodes. Greece is so lovely. The weather is usually hot but not too humid, the food is lovely and there is so much to see. No doubt we will return - Covid put the blockers on most foreign travel but I still have long list of destinations to tick off. 

Journey

It’s a cliché I hear,
‘travel broadens the mind’
but I’m happy to know
that our travels abroad
enhanced our education.
The journey often long,
patience tested,
rewarded on arrival
at our far-flung destination.

What we have experienced.
the things we have learned,
the grandeur, the majesty
of ancient civilisation,
the diversity of people,
the wonders of creation.
Looking outwards
to understand
the global situation.

To those who do not travel
who stay insular at home
I recommend a journey
to Paris or to Rome.
just to breathe another’s air
walk in another’s shoes,
A single step begins
a journey to your own imagination.

Spot press - Baby arrived this morning

Thanks for reading. Adele

Read More

Jets - Comet or Jumbo?

It was a very grown-up thing to be doing, again I was reminded. Perhaps my mother expected me to ‘kick off’, to use modern parlance, though I never had done before and any slight attempt on my part to be anything less than perfectly behaved would have met with her cross face and a warning tap. I hated that face. Something strange happened with her mouth and her eyes, transforming my otherwise glamorous, attractive mother into an old-looking scary witch. Of course, it’s not a look I was overly familiar with. I was born flawless and had impeccable, lady-like manners by the age of two, apparently.  So, here was my sensible, six-year-old self waiting patiently in the departure lounge of Ringway Airport – Manchester International these days – clutching my chosen toy from the airport shop, a Comet aeroplane, the same sort of jet that we would be flying on. Soon we would be embarking on the real thing. Air travel, and I was grown-up enough.

I was going on holiday to Jersey with my parents and uncle, my father’s brother. I sat by the window with my toy Comet resting on its stand, placed on the pull-down table in front of me. We were airborne before I knew it. The mosaic I could see through the window was actually the ground so far below me and I was fascinated but what thrilled me more than anything was the miniature salt and pepper shakers we were given with our in-flight snack.

Many years later, I found my first Atlantic crossing filled me with apprehension. I hadn’t been up close to a Jumbo Jet before and I couldn’t imagine something so huge would make it off the ground. It did, but I found the physical force of take-off a little worrying. Trust me to be making this trip when the popular aeroplane disaster movies were fresh in my mind. I was travelling alone to stay with family in the U.S.A. and would be met at the airport.  It was a relief to arrive unscathed.

     After our honeymoon in Jersey, we made return trips and it became a favourite place of ours before we had our children. We returned for a family holiday which was their first trip in a plane and a grown-up thing to be doing. I had come full circle.

I think I might need a refresher course in ‘lady-like’. If my mother is watching over me she might agree, as long as she’s not doing that cross face.

 

 

 

 

Here’s Simon Armitage, our new Poet Laureate,

 

Thank You For Waiting 

At this moment in time we’d like to invite
First Class passengers only to board the aircraft.

Thank you for waiting. We now extend our invitation
to Exclusive, Superior, Privilege and Excelsior members,
followed by triple, double and single Platinum members,
followed by Gold and Silver Card members,
followed by Pearl and Coral Club members.
Military personnel in uniform may also board at this time.

Thank you for waiting. We now invite
Bronze Alliance Members and passengers enrolled
in our Rare Earth Metals Points and Reward Scheme
to come forward, and thank you for waiting.

Thank you for waiting. Accredited Beautiful People
may now board, plus any gentleman carrying a copy
of this month’s Cigar Aficionado magazine, plus subscribers
to our Red Diamond, Black Opal or Blue Garnet promotion.
We also welcome Sapphire, Ruby and Emerald members
at this time, followed by Amethyst, Onyx, Obsidian, Jet,
Topaz and Quartz members. Priority Lane customers,
Fast Track customers, Chosen Elite customers,
Preferred Access customers and First Among Equals customers
may also now board.

On production of a valid receipt travellers of elegance and style
wearing designer and/or hand-tailored clothing
to a minimum value of ten thousand US dollars may now board;
passengers in possession of items of jewellery
(including wristwatches) with a retail purchase price
greater than the average annual salary
of a mid-career high school teacher are also welcome to board.
Also welcome at this time are passengers talking loudly
into cellphone headsets about recently completed share deals
property acquisitions and aggressive takeovers,
plus hedge fund managers with proven track records
in the undermining of small-to-medium-sized ambitions.
Passengers in classes Loam, Chalk, Marl and Clay
may also board. Customers who have purchased
our Dignity or Morning Orchid packages
may now collect their sanitised shell suits prior to boarding.

Thank you for waiting.
Mediocre passengers are now invited to board,
followed by passengers lacking business acumen
or genuine leadership potential, followed by people
of little or no consequence, followed by people
operating at a net fiscal loss as people.
Those holding tickets for zones Rust, Mulch, Cardboard,
Puddle and Sand might now want to begin gathering
their tissues and crumbs prior to embarkation.

Passengers either partially or wholly dependent on welfare
or kindness, please have your travel coupons validated
at the Quarantine Desk.

Sweat, Dust, Shoddy, Scurf, Faeces, Chaff, Remnant,
Ash, Pus, Sludge, Clinker, Splinter and Soot;
all you people are now free to board.

by Simon Armitage

 

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

 

 

Read More

Lighthouse - La Corbiere

One good reason for having an airport in Blackpool was that we could fly to Jersey in just under an hour, collect our pre-booked hire car and arrive at our hotel in time for morning coffee. So sad that those times have gone, but glad that we made the most of it when we could.

At the extreme south-western point of Jersey in the Channel Islands, stands La Corbiere lighthouse, tall and majestic above the rocks. These rocks have been the downfall of many sailors over the centuries. The most recent casualty, in 1995, was the Saint Malo, a French catamaran, which is thought to have tried to take a short cut along the Jersey side of the lighthouse. It became stuck on rocks then beached when the tide went out. Everyone was rescued and the Saint Malo was eventually taken along the coast to St Helier harbour for repair.

The lighthouse is built on the highest of the rocks on that stretch of the Jersey coast and was the first in the British Isles to be constructed of concrete. It was lit for the first time in April, 1874. A causeway through the rocks links Corbiere to Jersey at low tide and is a walk offering great views in all directions. The area is popular with artists and photographers for the unspoilt, rugged coast and dramatic rough seas.

My first glimpse of Corbiere Lighthouse was breath-taking.  I was stunned by the beauty and the atmosphere. Just to sit quietly and watch the sea, listen to the birds and take it all in. We returned many times during different stays in Jersey. On one visit, a South Island Cruise gave us the opportunity to see the other side and witness how choppy the sea can be, even on a calm day. It is one of the best places ever to watch a sunset, simply spectacular, and I hope, sometime in the future, we’ll be there to watch it again.

 

I found this poem by Leah Renee

 

La Corbiere

we sat and watched the sea slowly rise
relentlessly beat those weathered rocks
covering the coast before our eyes
as hands discover sandy pockets
radiant rays of red smear the sky
tint the white washed walls of Corbière
heat of the solstice sun sheds our shy
scent of midnight lilies fills the air
fingers dancing with one another
twirling and leaping without a sound
too close to breathe but never smothered
all the while still glued to the ground
still watching whitecaps roll through the sea
with my white washed lighthouse next to me

 

Leah Renee

 



 

 

Read More

Exposure - it gets absolutely everywhere.

In 1966 – my parents took my brother and me on our first flight ever.  We left Liverpool’s Speke airport on a BAC111 for Jersey for a week of sunshine and fun. It was on that beautiful, almost continental island that I experienced my first exposure to two other things: Sunburn and The Tummy Bug! 

I remember the year so well because my skin burned while we were all by the swimming pool watching Everton beat Sheffield Wednesday 3 – 2 in the FA Cup. Dad sent the 'boys in blue' a telegram before kick-off and my parents would probably have noticed my skin turning lobster if they were not celebrating into the early evening.  

The source of The Tummy Bug was less obvious. Dad had hired an open-top Triumph Herald and we trundled round the island from our St Helier base at the 30mph maximum speed limit. We took in the wonderful scenery; rocky coves, sandy beaches and the remnants of Nazi occupation during  WW2. I also learned a little French but the most lasting memory is of being confined to bed with a bottle of Vichy water to help me through the dehydrating symptoms. It tasted like fish.  

Since last Thursday, The Fylde Coast and other parts of Lancashire have been affected by a water-borne parasite (No, I don’t mean The Prime Minister, who has been on his holidays) Cryrtosporidium, also known as The Tummy Bug.  What began as a shocking revelation, (we never have problems with our water supply, except the obligatory hosepipe ban every time the sun shines for more than two consecutive days) soon deteriorated into ca complete shambles.  Panic buying began in earnest as supermarkets struggled to restock rapidly dwindling supplies of bottled water.  Never before has so much, needed by so many been provided by so few.   

Of course, our British supply of clean, drinkable water has never been free but as I write, the infestation has lasted a week and despite their stalwart efforts, United Utilities have only managed to reduce the level of risk and not eradicate it.  So we face the double whammy of boiling kettles and running up increased power bills or buying it in bottles. I am reminded that the CEO of Nestle is quoted as saying that human beings do not have a right to free water and whether or not he was taken out of context, it has certainly been the case here this week. Usually, for a mere £36 a month, my family can have a luxury that is not available in many other parts of the world: Clean drinkable water.  

This week reminded me of one of my favourite poems, The Rhyme of The Ancient Mariner. “Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink.” Here we are, living by the sea in one of the wettest parts of our lovely island, having to drink bottled water! Of course I avoided the Nestle Pure variety because of its dubious origins:  India and Pakistan have little enough water without it being diverted and sent over to the US and Europe, depriving poor people of their only free natural resource.  I also avoid drinking Evian which is naive spelled backwards. Not that I think someone is taking the mickey, (it is possible that the connotation is purity but nevertheless, I think the Swiss have enough money.) I have boiled many kettles, filled jugs and placed them in strategic positions around my domain.  It is almost like being on holiday abroad. The weather has certainly perked up.  

In Egypt in 2002, I was exposed to a rather vile variety of The Tummy Bug that my family now call The Mummy’s Revenge.  I was sent to the local doctor because it laughed in the face of Imodium. It was 45˚C in the shade (a June heatwave even for the natives) and we were cruising the Nile. Expose to strange bugs, insects, heat and dirty water is no deterrent to The happy Wanderer. I thrive on adventure. But this is England, for goodness sake chaps and it just isn’t cricket? Besides, the sun is up now and this intrepid explorer wants some ice in her Gin and Tonic.

 

 

 

 

 Water, water  - please! 

There’s “water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink!”

We’re boiling kettles by the hour to pour them down the sink.

There’s a bottle in the fridge door and another for my teeth.

There’s Volvic on the top shelf, Buxton Water underneath. 

Although it rained all Summer long, the land on overflow,

supply up here in Lancashire is running very low,

we're parched as peas,

we’re on our knees for precious H2O. 

Come on you water boys! Come on United Utilities!

I can’t drink tea from dawn ‘till dusk, I need to chill my G and T’s.

This cryptosporidium may be a nasty little bug

but if I catch the blighter in my sink, I’ll squish him with the plug!


Have a good week.   Adele 

Read More