10,000 Miles - Part Four

Bright and early the next day, we enjoyed a full English breakfast in massive proportions and then hauled ourselves and our luggage to the car for the next leg of our journey.  We were heading to Pateley Bridge where my parents last lived but on the way we planned to visit “something”.  We didn’t know what the “something” was going to be but we knew we would know it when we encountered it.   That amazing man of mine made navigating the motorway look like he’d been doing it all his life and soon we were rolling alongside a big lorry which was so close I could see the scratches on the lug nuts. 

Around lunchtime we rolled into Knaresborough where my parents had lived and owned a business for a few years.  We moved here when I was eighteen during the summer after I left school and before I headed to college in Wales, (we don’t “graduate” senior school/high school in England but we had a heck of a time celebrating regardless!)  I was, I admit it now many years later, quite resentful.  I was forced, yes, forced I tell you, to leave my home town of Oldham, my friends, my social life and, worst of all, my boyfriend, simply because my parents wanted to start their own business!  I was not happy about it and determined that they would know this, every stinking day!  I was pretty consistently in an incredibly bad mood and demonstrated a complete lack of graciousness in acknowledging that the empty nesters might want to fulfill some dreams of their own having dedicated their last eighteen years to my dreams.  Eventually even I was bored of myself and I finally learned what this village had to offer and grew to love the views and its picturesque nature.  Knaresborough is quite small with a High Street (equivalent of Main Street in America), lots of little shops, several pubs of course, a castle and Old Mother Shipton’s Cave.  Perfect…Old Mother Shipton’s Cave was our “something”. 

 

Old Mother Shipton was born to humble roots but was famous because of her predictions for the future.  Royalty visited her to understand the fate of their kingdoms and people came from far and wide to hear her words of wisdom.  For example, if this bridge in Knaresborough falls three times it signifies the end of the world.  Just for the record, it has fallen twice so if it falls again we may all be in trouble.  

Of course the logical answer to this impending doom in England is to name the local pub accordingly, hope for the best and down a pint in case the worst comes to the worst! 

After following the instructions to the letter at the Wishing Well we walked through a beautiful park and were able to see Knaresborough viaduct from a variety of angles.  I have always thought the viaduct and the river do not have a bad side and I enjoyed taking lots of photos.  We visited Knaresborough’s castle and then realized it was time to head to Pateley Bridge to meet up with my wonderful friend Rita and her companion, Frank.

I learned from my Dad that once British gentlemen and ladies reach a certain age, they no longer have girlfriends and boyfriends, they have companions.  About three years after my Mum passed away, with my Dad and I by her side holding her hand and becoming even closer than we already were, my Dad met Rita  She quickly became his companion, probably because she is fun and adventurous and strong in a way that she does not see which makes her humble and unassuming. 

In that cruel and surreal way that life has sometimes, my Dad died two years later with Rita and I by his side.  To say that Rita is a cherished part of my life is an understatement and when she traveled all the way to America to meet the man of my dreams and attend our wedding I was overjoyed.   That was three years ago and we had not seen her since even though we had exchanged many cards, emails and phone calls in the meantime.  Add to all that the fact that we had reservations to stay in my parents’ house which was renovated into a Bed and Breakfast after I sold it and this was going to be the most emotional leg of the trip for me.  Having said that, it was still a surprise to me when I promptly burst into tears when we drove into Pateley Bridge.  I was a weeping fool by the time I was hugging Rita and trying to tell her how happy I was to see her!  I pulled myself together in true English fashion…stiff upper lip and all that…and we headed to Fox House...more to come!

10,000 Miles - Part Three

When we arrived in Manchester my amazing hubby climbed into the right hand side of the rental vehicle and promptly started driving on the left hand side of the road without skipping a beat!  Before I knew it we were in Oldham, the town where I grew up.  Although I lived in Oldham from the age of seven and have many pleasant memories, the years I remember ever so fondly start when I was about eleven.  At that age I entered the austere portals of The Hulme Grammar School for Girls and for the next seven years was spent in a whirlwind of learning, socializing, and living what was a relatively carefree life among people who became friends for life.

Naturally then the first stop was back to school!  School breaks for summer later in England than in America but there were no students in session that day as there was an extra day holiday in honor of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.  Everything you have heard and all the jokes that are made about England and Europe having lots of holidays are indeed true.  When there isn’t a legitimate reason for a holiday in England we simply call it a Bank Holiday and everyone goes to the pub to celebrate.  It is quite a system and after centuries of doing this there have been no complaints so it continues without interruption.  Despite the holiday, my very good friend Caitlin, with whom I went to school and who now works there, arranged for us to tour the scene of many a great memory.  This is where we really noticed those horrible creatures known as boys that were separated from us by the great “Iron Curtain”.  This is where we spent hours of brain power trying to break the uniform rules just enough to be daring and not enough to get caught.  This is where another of my lovely friends,  with a penchant for challenging authority, taped a slice of mushroom into her biology book instead of drawing it and later had to discard her notes because her notebook had a runny substance dripping out of it and a smell the rest of us could no longer stomach (you know who you are and that still makes me giggle!)  We are now known as Old Girls and under other circumstances that might be quite offensive but it was wonderful to go back.   I had to get used to the fact that we moved freely in the Girls School AND the Boys School.  This was not allowed in my day and some may remember from a previous blog that those that tried introduced the detention process to a previously law-abiding environment.  On the surface, not much had changed although I remember the “Iron Curtain” as being much bigger than it actually turned out to be. 

Once we left school, with promises to meet at the pub later of course, we drove by the house I grew up in and then headed to a small village that was also the scene of many a good pub crawl.  This time we enjoyed it for its scenery.  We only saw the whites of my usually unruffled hubby’s eyes once when he came around a corner and a car was facing him.  He jumped and, with a semi-accusing look as he realized the car was parked, asked, “You don’t park in the direction of traffic flow???”  I sheepishly admitted that in England when you see a spot to park you pull into it, wherever it might be…sorry darling!  

We were famished by the time we got to the pub, my old haunt that hadn’t changed a bit!  Caitlin and a couple more friends joined us and we started to catch up over a pint and Steak and Guinness Pie.  The boys grew restless and asked if they could go outside and with lots of warnings about the road and traffic coming from a different direction, etc. they were finally released to go “not far” and “not to cross any roads”.  After a while, my youngest stepson reappeared and handed me a beautiful flower; we were distracted and I admired it and hugged him and placed it on the table.  Over the course of the next couple of hours the same thing kept happening until suddenly it struck me to ask where the flowers were coming from.  I can only blame it on exceedingly good beer that we hadn’t thought of this earlier but at this point four boys eagerly told the tale of the lovely huge grassy area they found to play hide and seek.  It was like a park with beautiful bushes and flowers apparently.  That is until the owner of said “park”, which materialized to be her garden, came out of her house to let those boys know in no uncertain terms that she was calling the police!  Jailed in another country?  Hauled off while the parents sat in the pub?  Stealers of flowers and tramplers of grass?  This was not the memory we were looking to make!  The bunch apologized profusely and when she heard them speak, curiosity got the better of her and she asked where they were from and what they were doing in this small town in England?  Before the evening was over she had told them where in her garden they could play and watched and waved from her window until they returned to the oblivious and clearly irresponsible parents.   We headed back to our Bed and Breakfast finally and decided we should clear out the next morning before we were arrested…more to come :o)

10,000 Miles - Part Two

The day we left London to head North was probably the rainiest day we had in England but we were full of anticipation to see my brother and meet one of my nieces for the first time.   It was First Class all the way to Milton Keynes, a far cry from the train rides I remember as a college student heading home.  Coffee, tea and bacon butties kept arriving for breakfast and we relaxed in style and surprisingly for not much more than second class seating.  I got a giggle from my coffee cup and a big boy grinned from ear to ear as we picked up speed and zipped through the countryside averaging 172 miles/hour.  We went from the sublime to the ridiculous at Milton Keynes when we piled into the taxi that would take us to our hotel and where we would rendezvous with my Big Bruv.  The two cases we had with us would not fit into the boot/trunk/storage area so we shoved one in and put the other on the floor leaving two boys with their knees around their ears.  

The drive wasn’t long and when we pulled up Big Bruv was waiting in the rain with his more hesitant daughter sheltering under the awning.  None of the boys have met their uncle before (long and boring story!) so I was not surprised to hear someone, who probably didn’t realize they had said it out loud, say “That’s your brother???”  I am not sure that I have sufficient words to paint this picture accurately.  My Big Bruv is seven years older than me, grizzly looking, in a wheelchair, and covered in tattoos; the simplest description of me in comparison is that I am not!  We have made different choices and followed different paths in life, my brother and I, but we do share our sense of humor.  We laugh at the same things and tend to have a live and let live approach to most things in life, including each other.  His daughter, my niece is lovely and clearly has a good head on her shoulders and there is no doubt she will be successful in life.  Once the boys had closed their gaping jaws and we got everyone settled and introduced I handed my brother a coin collection that had miraculously survived each of my parents’ moves over  the course of 35 years, being shipped from England to Colorado five years ago and then back again in the luggage for this trip.

Big Bruv told the story of the coin collection to four boys who were mesmerized either by the tale, or his accent, or the tattoos, or maybe all three.  I believe it was 1972 but could be wrong and Leeds United, Dad’s favorite football/soccer team, won the FA Cup.  Petrol/gas stations in England were offering a coin representing each team and a handsome album in which to keep them every time a certain number of gallons of petrol were purchased.  There are about twenty coins in total and the final coin, representing Leeds United, is the biggest and designed to be prominently displayed in the center at the top.  At the time Dad travelled a lot and consequently bought a lot of petrol.  Every Friday for weeks, my 10-year old brother would meet Dad in the drive and ask him to empty his pockets where my Dad had mixed in the collector coins with his change.  Big Bruv would sort through and then proudly fit the new coins into their slot. It took many weeks to earn the coins and finally the most coveted coin of all but that last Friday when he handed it over, my brother pushed it in to the display and cherished the collection for years to come.  It is a little the worse for wear now but all the coins are there and it is back in the hands of its rightful owner.

 

We didn’t let the rain slow us down and went bowling; Big Bruv was eager to let the world know that he beat his Sis and demanded photographic evidence was provided. 

This is what I thought of that!

We ate and we talked and then the boys swam in the hotel pool and we talked and then we ate some more and then the boys took it in turns to see what speeds my brother’s wheelchair could reach in the hotel lobby!  It was a late night but a good day and after sharing breakfast the next morning we said our goodbyes and once again headed North…more to come :o)

 

10,000 Miles - Part One

Where do you start when you visit three countries in two weeks?  We traveled approximately 10,000 miles by plane, another 850 by train, over 160 miles driving on the left (which I submit is the RIGHT side of the road!) and another 100 or so on the OTHER side of the road.  Not to mention the countless footsteps exploring small villages, cities filled with noise and energy, and everything in between.  How do you capture all those moments that bombard the senses?  What words can describe the feeling of being transported back in time at the Tower of London, or the utter beauty of Le Louvre and the stab of illogical fear when they locked the gates to the German castle behind us?  To say it was a whirlwind is an understatement and yet in the best tradition of fabulous experiences it took us so far from our everyday world that when we returned it felt like we had been gone for a couple of months.

We arrived in London the weekend of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.  I was seven the last time I celebrated a jubilee and distinctly remember the street parties and my Mum making me a new dress in red, white and blue.  I felt a familiar sense of nostalgia when we walked off the plane and were immediately greeted with big smiles from girls dressed head to foot in red, white and blue.  They presented four dazed boys with flags and pins and coerced them into signing a book of good will messages to the Queen herself.  They seemed quite amazed that a welcome party had been ordered for their arrival and we will wait a few years before breaking the news to them that the girls were not standing by solely for their visit.

Hungry in only a way that traveling for a day can make you, I asked for the nearest English breakfast and we received directions.  I may have lost some of my stiff upper lip over the years because the gentlemen saw the look of disbelief on my face and reassured me it was very good.  We found the café easily and at 7:30am in London, five Americans and a Brit sat down in a Thai café and ate their first English breakfast of the trip.  Let me amend that; one American had spaghetti for breakfast and pronounced it the best he has ever had.  Who knew we had to travel so far and find that Thai café to experience the best spaghetti in the world?!  Within a couple of days another member of the party would start to ask at every meal if baked beans were served with EVERYTHING in England??  I consider this to be a rhetorical question. 

The next two days were an immersion into all things English in the capital.  We took the Tube to the London Eye and saw the city from every angle.  My adorable husband proposed to me at the top of the Eye and everyone was relieved I accepted or the next 15 minutes locked together in a capsule on the way down could have been the longest of all our lives ;o)  

The dungeons followed which was more designed for children than adults yet reminded me of some of the more gruesome parts of English history.  We spent almost an entire day at the Tower of London, including the Bloody Tower (pardon my language) breathing in the history and reveling in every moment of being part of its present.  The castle and walls are a living, breathing part of history that we were encouraged to touch, walk on, understand, and enjoy, as long as we didn’t go on the grass!  We took a boat up the Thames mere hours before the Queen would lead a pageant of 670 boats on the very same river and had much better weather for our trip than she did for hers.  Sitting up top we took photograph after photograph like crazed tourists, deliriously happy, slightly jet-lagged, and seemingly always hungry.  When we left London to head north it was amid a persistent drizzle but it did not hinder our spirits or our progress; we were eager for the next leg of the English chapter…more to come...