Chelsea Flower Show

Chelsea Flower Show

May 26, 2012

            While we are living in England, we want to be sure and do all the quintessential English things.  Things that the English people do and not necessarily the tourists do.  Things that you read about the Brits being all over an event and a big deal and such.  Things like the Chelsea Flower Show which we have heard about for years and years as being such a big deal.  So naturally I got tickets to attend and according to some of my ex-pat friends, I was lucky to get them.  I did join every organization possible like the Royal Horticultural Society so I got my tickets through them.

            Haven’t quite figured out the timing yet of special events as to when the Royals go and the Beautiful People and the Rich and Famous.  So far, we have managed to miss them by a day at most of the events.  We attended the flower show on the last day.  Missed the Royals by a mile this time as they went on the first day.  OK.  I’m making notes for next year on the timing.  So far we have only managed to see The Earl of Wessex otherwise known as Prince Edward and we might possibly have seen the Duke of York, otherwise known as Prince Andrew but we needed binoculars to see if it was him for sure so not sure he counts.

            Back to the Chelsea Flower Show.  We had to schedule an event on top of it, naming taking our driving theory and hazard perception tests that morning.  Very happy to say we passed.  Could have been a really dreary day at the flower show had we not passed.  So we did not get there at the opening but wandered into the show sometime around 11 a.m. or so.  We have discovered that events, like many in most countries, are a good opportunity for vendors to sell stuff.  Usually it is related to the theme of the event, such as selling boots and saddles at the Windsor Horse Show and selling tractors and garden tools at the Chelsea Garden Show but it is a place to buy and sell and sell and buy and buy and buy.  Being the good ex-pats living in country that we are, we support the local economy – a LOT.  At the Windsor Horse Show, I bought a pair of boots.  At the Chelsea Flower Show, I bought a hat.  See how good we are!

            After we waded through the first rows of vendors, we finally got to some exhibits of flowers and carefully prepared designs of gardens.  It was quite difficult to get close enough to see it very well and so it continued on down the row.  My husband and I are having an ongoing debate now on what exactly is an English garden.  Is it well-manicured and flower beds just so and everything maintained and clipped and trimmed and in its place?  Our next door neighbor has a yard like that.  Or is it a higgledy piggledy hodgepodge of plants that seem to have no pattern but just grow and grow and there might be paths through the hedges and flowers and there might not be but just a riot of plants haphazardly growing happily in the brief spurt of sunshine.  Our garden is kind of like that but we don’t know if it is because it was supposed to be like that or because there were renters in the house before us that didn’t care about the garden.   The designs we saw at the flower show could have gone either way!  So the debate continues.

            We finally got to the big building of plants and went in to see what they had.  Wow, first we came upon the carnivorous plants.  Ohhhh, I want some.  I could really use some in my house for the flies that get in whenever the windows are open.   They were wonderful.  And then we wandered around the building seeing a lot of familiar plants but in more glorious colors and blooms than usual plus a great many plants we didn’t know.  That part of the show was wonderful.

            Finally we needed to get something to drink and decided we had to have a Pimm’s as it is also the English thing to do.  Got our Pimm’s and then there is nowhere to sit.  People are hanging onto chairs and tables as if their lives depend on it and others are seated on the ground which there is no way my arthritis will allow that and be able to stand again.  My husband is sure he read there is pizza somewhere so now becomes the Chelsea Flower show Pizza Hunt Marathon.  We finally track it down long after our Pimm’s is gone and by then we have traipsed from one end of the show to the other.  Luckily there was a place to sit and eat the pizza and then we had the opportunity to see the other end of the show as we came out of the food court.

            We were only there a few houses and decided we had really seen most of the exhibits and most of the flowers.  We had oohed and ahhed at the exhibits, exclaimed over the sculptures, slavered over the wind chimes and bobbin’ robin’s and drooled over the insect eating plants so time to leave.

            It was a good experience and a good show but I have to say that it wasn’t as spectacular as I had expected from all the hype.  A good day at any flower show would rival it.  Now I’ll probably lose my membership in RHS for smashing it but I am glad we went and we’ll go again next year if just to drool over the carnivorous plants again.

Cliveden House

     Our women's club had a short tour of Cliveden House yesterday as the end of year tea since our year ends in June when school is over and many women are packing up and moving on to new assignments with their spouses or back to the states.  Have to admit, had not really heard of Cliveden House before and I was unable to attend the lecture on it before the visit.  But WOW.  Sure wish I was uber-rich because how wonderful and fun it would be to live in such a place and have such famous people as friends and neighbors.  Of course there is a downside to being so rich, mainly probably in finding good help and having neighbors erect their homes to spoil your view (this from Nancy Astor).  But still, would be fun to try it for awhile.

     We bused down there (arg!  Had just spent 12 hours on a bus the day before and my knees and back and hips have yet to recover). but luckily it isn't far.  We started our morning with a tea in one of the drawing rooms or parlors.  Then we divided into groups of 16 and we got Gary as our guide.  It is a National Trust Property as well as being a working hotel so the guides are National Trust volunteers (or maybe paid, not sure which).  Gary was a great guide as he wasn't adverse to telling us some of the rumors and scandal that was associated with the home and people over the years.  Spices up what could be a dull and boring rendition of history and furniture and people.

     The Duke of Buckingham acquired the estate early on - 1660's - and used it as a hunting lodge and mainly for entertaining his mistress who happened to be someone else's wife.  Hollywood made out that the Duke and the husband had a duel on the property with the mistress holding their horses dressed as a page.  Reality has it that the duel was elsewhere with the wife/mistress ensconced in a nunnery somewhere but the result was the same in that the husband was wounded and died later from his wounds leaving the Duke free to take his mistress home with him and pack his own wife back to her father.

     The house burned down a couple of times taking everything with it so that the only part surviving since the first building is the patio outside the main lodge.  As a result, most of the items in the house are products of auctions and hunting down period pieces but without the actual known history behind them and without belonging originally to the house.

     In 1893, William Waldorf Astor bought the house.  His mother died there so he built a wall around the 300+ acres of the grounds and it was said that Waldorf owed the land and was "walled off" - play on words.  but he gave the property to his son, Waldorf Astor when he married Nancy Langhorne.  Nancy proved a bit of a stubborn rich lady complaining about her neighbors house which spoiled the view so she asked him how much it would cost her to tear down his house.  He refused and asked her how much to tear down Cliveden!

     Many of the rich and famous of the time came for visits but during the war, it was turned into a hospital by the Canadaians after the Brits thought it would be too cumbersome and expensive to convert.   After the war, the rich and famouse continued to visit including Christine Keeler and Charles Profumo who created the scandal that brought down the MacMillian government in Britain.  You'll have to go read that one on your own.  All spy versus spy and loose women type of affairs.

     Finally the house was used for students for a period of time for the University of Stanford from 1969 to 1983.  In 1985 it became a hotel and is reputed to have the most expensive afternoon tea in Britain.  We did not receive this tea.  And I saw that the most expensive tea was only 49 pounds.  surely somewhere in Britain can beat this price for expense.  BUT then there is the Platinum tea which has:

""THE PLATINUM AFTERNOON TEA...

A true indulgent treat, the Platinum tea has been billed as one of the world's most expensive afternoon teas with truly special ingredients.

Presented by Executive Head Chef Carlos Martinez you can expect a lavish spread that includes world's most expensive ingredients and side dishes. Priced at £550 per couple, it includes 'white truffles at a £2,500 per kilogram, Beluga Caviar at a staggering £4,000 per kilogram and Da Hong Pao Tea, which is harvested from one thousand year old plants and is so rare that it costs over £2,000 per kilogram. The afternoon tea is washed down by a glass of Dom Perignon Rose, dubbed the King of Champagnes'. It also comes with 'Cliveden House Chocolate Cake with Gold Leaf' paired with Kopi Luwak, the world's most expensive coffee.

Another most expensive snack of the menu is the hotel's legendary Platinum Club Sandwich priced at £100 which will appear in a mini canapé version""  

So not sure anyone can beat that price after all.  Rooms start at only 385 pounds a night but you can go all the way to 1720 pounds for a cottage for the night.  It does include breakfast.

We had a very lovely time being shown around the house and getting the history and tales behind the tapestries and suits of Armour and the carvings and looking at the Thames and the valley below.  It is a beautiful place.  

     As I mentioned, our tea was not the Platinum Afternoon Tea but it was delightful with some wonderful sandwiches, some delightful cakes and some candy crowns.  Many of the cakes were decorated with the U.K. flag.

     As it was raining most of the day, only a few of us walked down to the chapel where Nancy Astor is buried but unfortunately, it didn't open until 3 p.m. and we had to leave.  

     So much more hisotry of Cliveden house than I can relate here but it is a grand and magnificent place and well worth a visit.  One can dream and imagine all the intrigue and drama of the past and wonder how much drama and intrigue continues to this day.  Another very enjoyable outing with the American Women of Surrey.

And The Ride Home was The Best Part of the Evening

And The Ride Home was the Best Part of the Evening

            Last evening my husband and I attended the Diamond Jubilee Royal Gala Concert at Royal Albert Hall.  Don’t get me wrong from the title; the concert was lovely so I’ll start at the beginning.  It was a long day for both of us as my husband was in meetings almost all day and working on specs which is, to me anyway, at best, hard to keep awake while looking at dozens of drawings.  I’d been running errands all day, doing some quilting while trying to keep the cats from sitting on the quilt (it is impossible to move the quilt under the needle if I’m trying to move one or two cats along with it!), cleaning, doing business on line, etc. etc.  So both of us were tired before we left the house.

            We had to go into London by train and I had forgotten my senior rail card (yes, heavy sigh, I am that old) so we both had to pay full price for the time period (not as bad as going in the early morning rush hour).  We get there in plenty of time for the concert but we were late for our reservation at Elgar Restaurant inside Royal Albert Hall.  They were able to seat us anyway.

            Elgar Restaurant does not win any awards for ambience or looks!  They had so many tables squeezed into the restaurant that my hubby had to pull the table further away from the wall for me to be able to get to my seat and then push it back in so he could sit in his seat without bumping the person at the table behind us.  However, the food was delicious and good food can make you overlook a lot of other faults. 

            We finished in time for a stop at the toilet which had a queue out the door which seems to be common worldwide.  However, explain to me why there were two gents’ toilets within sight of each other practically and only one ladies toilet that I saw on that floor!  Poor hubby then has to walk down to the ground floor to pick up a program which we had forgotten. 

            We’re seated at Gate 4, Circle P, Row 5 and Seats 6 & 7.  Oh my gosh, pretty much the “nose bleed” section.  It was very high up and a long way to the ground floor.  Also, unfortunately for us, we could only see half of the orchestra and leaning forward barely got us a glimpse of the guest soloists.  My bad.  I had chosen the seats because we’d never been there, it was a musical concert so I figured seeing wasn’t as important as hearing, and they were cheap.

            Royal Albert Hall is magnificent.  It is in a circle with rows and rows of red chairs and red fabric and red lights but while it might sound like I’m beginning to describe a bawdy house, it is very beautiful and very tastefully done and the acoustics are fairly good.  At one end, behind the orchestra, were the huge pipes of a pipe organ.  Not sure I’d ever seen pipes that big.  Would be very interested in going to hear that.  The seats weren’t too very comfortable though, a little on the snug side and not because we are large people.  A lot of the people around us who were definitely skinny people were fidgety too.  And as we were on the end of the row, every time someone came for our row, we had to stand or step out to let them into the row.  Stepping out of the row, for me, meant hang onto the railing as I am a teeny bit afraid of falling from such heights and could picture myself rolling down the aisle and bouncing over the railing to the floor below and that would put a damper on the festivities.

            The concert started on time with the conductor arriving and the guest soprano who was also the presenter.  Immediately the orchestra started into “God Save the Queen” which we didn’t know but everyone else did so stood and started singing.  That is so impressive when a crowd of people sing the national anthem and love doing it and aren’t just mouthing the words to get to the ball game.  (Not putting my country down as we love the national anthem too but sometimes people would rather not sing and watch the game).  So a very good start.

            The program was music we recognized and loved.  We had the soprano who sang a lot, a guest trumpeter who was magnificent, and a guest clarinetist who was also awesome.  The guest violinist had been taken ill so the first chair played the violin solo and I doubt if I would have been able to tell the difference between her and the absent guest soloist.  Honestly, we didn’t like the soprano.  She sang most of the songs in English rather than the language in which they were written.  Her first song consisted of one word; “Halleluiah” which I never knew could be spread out over so many notes for a single syllable or two.  She had a fine voice I believe, we just didn’t care for it.  Everyone else did so that’s fine.

            In the royal box, we are assuming, was Prince Andrew, as he is the Patron.  There were several women in that box too and for the sake of being able to say “I saw them” we are going to pretend that Princess Eugenia and Princess Beatrice were with her father.  I say assuming because it was a long way from our seats to the royal box on the opposite side of the hall.  We must remember to bring binoculars with us to any possible royal sightings events from now on. 

            As I mentioned at the beginning, we were very tired and we’d just had a very nice and full meal and it was a tad warm so far up in the rafters so both of us were struggling to stay awake.  Listening to music is a well-known way to relax and help you fall asleep and it certainly did!  In our defense, we weren’t the only ones though who were nodding a bit.  There were a lot of children in our area ages from about 6 to 18 but they were all remarkably well behaved.  Probably most of them music students. 

            Gotta love England.  No matter what the event or the venue, during the break, everyone runs off to buy ice cream in these little cups that come with a spoon and everything.  Beer, wine, cokes, other snacks appeared as people came back from the break.  Can’t even imagine such a thing in the states at something like a concert celebrating a diamond jubilee.

            Finally the concert is over and we started down the stairs before the final bows were finished.  A whole lot of people walking towards the subway and we got to it just in time to hop on and stand.  Changing at Westminster, we were able to have a lean bench for the one stop back to Waterloo.  As we came out of the subway, I saw that our next train was 2233 I thought and it was 2231 then so we hotfooted it down to track 13 and ran through and jumped in the first door.  Luckily it was actually 2239 so we would have been fine.  We would have had to go through the first class coach or sit in the last two seats together facing backwards so we took those seats.

            Seated already was an older gentleman who was reading.  He promptly put down his book and started talking to us.  This was indeed the best part of the evening.  We talked and laughed the entire journey, which unfortunately was only about ½ hour away but he was quite an interesting man and funny and very interested in us.  He had also been to the concert.  Retired gentleman for the last 20 years so we asked for advice on how to stay busy since my husband is fast approaching his retirement.  We talked about traveling, about trains, about places he had been in the States and places where we all had been and the changes and the jubilee and the weather and the driving and the concert and gardening and everything.  It was so nice to meet him and we so enjoyed the ride home that we didn’t nod off once and the ½ hour seemed like only about 10 minutes.  It is always so much fun to meet an Englishman who is gregarious and happy to share experiences and happy to meet us, even if it is just in passing.

            So a very good evening all around, start to finish, even if we had to fight to stay awake for a part of it.  Another Jubilee even chalked up.

Taming the Were-Lion OR A Perspective of Love

Taming the Were-Lion OR A Perspective of Love

            We’re always had cats, as long as I can remember.  When I was little, they were scruffy “barn “cats that lived outside and came in to top up their nutrition in the way of cat food and milk and to lie in front of the fireplace (sometimes a mouse went free if they really liked the cat food of the day!).  I would sneak them into the house in the winter and they all learned that climbing a tree and crossing the roof to my bedroom window was a sure warmth winner.

            One of the first things I did upon leaving the familial birthplace was to buy a pedigree Siamese cat (which I loved that breed thanks to Lady and The Tramp (even though Am and Si were villains in that movie)) I also decided said cat would become and always be a housecat.  No dog, no cars, no wildlife would threaten my precious bundle of fur.  The dynasty of house cats continued as one of the first things my husband and I did when my daughter reached a responsible age was buy a pedigree Siamese cat for her too.  The love of cats lives on in her and even reached a higher degree.  Unknown to us until she was older, she became “the goddess of cats” in that almost any stray, unknown, un-pedigreed, or hurt cat would come to see her when she was in the vicinity.

            Fast forward to daughter grown and living on her own with cats, we’re moving overseas to begin my husband’s ex-pat career and our cats must be given to loving homes because we didn’t have the money to ship them with us AND they were backyard adopted cats (except one who was a piddler) so we didn’t feel too horrid for finding them good homes.  And it was amazing how fast we placed 3 adult cats to loving homes.  We remained cat-less for a number of years but took any opportunities to care for cats including babysitting cats at our apartment in Singapore.

            We remained cat-less through a couple of rotations on the ex-pat roller coaster but decided to adopt and give some cats that started out with a rough life a very good home of love and luxury.  Hence we headed off to the local pet shop one Saturday.  Our intent was to get adult cats but I had to buy something in the back of the store and by the time I returned to the adoption area, my husband was cuddling a small bewildered and upset Tortie-point Siamese kitten.  How anyone could abandon anything so gorgeous and precious is beyond me but Godiva went home with us that day, 9 years ago.  And since we don’t believe in one cat living  alone when we’re off to work or whatever, Puff went home with us that day too, a brown Mackerel Tabby.  I grew attached to Godiva more than Puff and Puff became my hubby’s cat.

            Godiva is sweet and loving and fluffy and soft and cute and pretty and funny and adorable.  She makes us laugh when she rolls over to have a belly rub (she’s been called a “belly-Ho” because she’ll roll over for anyone!)  Puff is a bit harder to love as he’s well named because he’s afraid of everything and when he was little, the smallest noise would make him puff –up to appear ferocious.  Godiva was kind and loving to everyone.  She wasn’t afraid to go anyplace with me and hardly ever hissed or growled except when in mock battle with Puff.  So imagine my surprise when around the age of 2 (her age, not mine), she went to the vet for a bit of an infection or belly ache or whatever (can’t even remember why she went now) and suddenly the vet is “expressing her anal glands” which in my opinion didn’t need doing and if I had known what the vet planned to do, I would have stopped it.

            This one act is what changed my sweet baboo into a snarling, clawing, hissing, growling, snapping, and biting were-lion.  She so hated this procedure that since that episode (7 years ago), she has hated any vets and vet office and lets them all know it the minute we walk in the door.  She is extremely difficult in the examining room and vets have barely been able to touch her.  She must be dragged kicking and screaming from her cage to get onto the examining table and sounds like she is being tortured.  Whenever I leave from the vets examine room, all eyes in the waiting room are on me, wide eyed in terror and disbelief from the sounds they have just heard – their pets quivering in fear at the imagined torture they must now face upon entering through that same door.

            As such, it usually then falls to me to help hold her because she is calmer with me involved.  That doesn’t mean she stops snarling and hissing and growling and fighting to escape, it just means they have maybe a 20% better chance of touching her and examining her.  Last night we had to do an emergency run to the vet because Godiva was doing the “I’m in pain, Mama!” cry.  That changed to the “snarl – why am I in the cage, Mama?” to “growl and hiss – hated vets office, get me out of here!!! *($%!***!!*%#)”

            The vets are great in that they are worried she might bite me. (She never has except for play bites and when she is injured and my fingers get in the way of her mouth) I said, she probably will if she gets a chance and my fingers get in the way so this vet offered to take her into the back with her “properly trained in handling irate animals” personnel so they could examine her.  Less than 10 minutes later, they were back.  The vet said they couldn’t touch her or get her out of the cage!  My sweet baboo has gone were-Lion again and turned into the snarling monster of the beasts.  The vet suggested that maybe it would be better after all if I held her so Godiva comes back to the examining room, still yelling at the world through her cage door and I am able to grab her and get her out and hold her while the vet has a look.  Poor baby.  She has some kind of infection again but since my regular vet had been working on it for the last month, the emergency vet thought it best if I get medication from them.  She was able to give Godiva a pain injection so she could make it through the night.  The emergency vet was also amazed that her “trained personnel to handle irate animals” was unable to handle her and yet I could grab her and hold her and calm her down (to an extent) so that she could be examined.  We trudge back home with her doing the minimal snarl and growl and hiss from her cage so we know that she isn’t happy with the world, still, and then she does the “get away from me” to Puff and for once, he seems to understand he is going to get his clock cleaned if he messes with the were-lion.

            Sweet baboo has become a mess from being at the vets.  She always does animal imitations when the purpose suits her.  At vets, she does her best squid imitation but instead of squirting ink to disappear, she drops a whole kitten’s worth of fur and figures she can disappear into a fur cloud.  She also tries to imitate monkeys who will fling their feces at targets.  She just lacks the flinging part but has the getting out the feces in case she ever figures out how to fling part well in hand.  So once home, she needs to be cleaned and we need to start her on her medication.  I am able to get most of her wiped off until I start on her lower belly which still must be giving her some pain as she scratches out while trying to turn over and leave and I get stabbed a couple of times in the arm.  We have to grab her again to give her the meds and it is a huge syringe that has to be pushed into her mouth but it is so hard to push it that I need my husband’s help to hold her and push the syringe.  She didn’t get all of her meds, maybe about half.  The rest went all over me.  We should have waited about ½ hour as she mellowed from the pain killing shot and turned back into my sweet baboo. 

            Today I get to take her to the regular vet to see if they can figure out what is wrong with her.  I hope I don’t have to leave her because she will turn into a were-lion once we reach the vets door and I don’t need the death of a trained professional in animal handling on my conscious. 

            Obviously we love our cats.  We joke about my daughter’s cats and call them our “grand-kitties” since we have no grandchildren.  We laughingly figure out the relationships between our fuzzy “kids” and my daughter’s fuzzy “kids”.  And when necessary, we spend a heap load of money on them as in last night’s emergency vet.  When you love your pets, the money is paid, albeit sometimes with a huge grimace or a juggle to take the money from something else, but we would find the money somehow to keep them going for we love their companionship, their antics, and their love back to us (yes, yes, some don’t agree that cats are that loving but ours are).  So our perspective is that the money is the least of the problems when your loved one needs help.  And anyone who loves their dog, cat, rabbit, bird, fish, snake, hamster, fox (I add this because someone I know had a pet fox) will somehow try and find the money to help their pet in distress.  It cost us 145 POUNDS to go to the emergency vet last night and walk in the front door.  Then we had to pay for the meds and any other treatment Godiva got.  Luckily I didn’t have to pay for an emergency room visit for any human personnel at the local A&E.  When we walked into the vet’s office, a couple were paying and getting ready to leave.  Their pet of love was a large rabbit!  So 145 pounds for the rabbit was also an acceptable price when dealing with their love of their pet.  I do admit that I might not have felt so inclined to spend that much on a pet rabbit but what do I know. Love is powerful and ya gotta do what’s necessary to work it and keep it going even if it means a lot of money for the life of an animal that is probably not going to last your whole life.  The time our cats spend with us is ever so precious and wonderful and worth the money.  Perspective!

Watching An Icon

Watching an Icon

            Very rigid childhood upbringing.  Television existed but programs where specifically chosen by my father thus there wasn’t a lot of current content or anything that seemed a bit risqué or just anything that he just wasn’t interested in seeing.  No remotes in those days but he controlled the channels with an iron step and an iron voice.  While I do believe I missed out on a lot of early television programs that are now classic, our list of “allowable” programs still included such old favorites (now classics) as: Bonanza, Sing Along with Mitch Miller, Lawrence Welk, Perry Como, Red Skelton, I Love Lucy, Ed Sullivan (depending of course who was on that night – never saw the Beetles on it or Elvis), and finally, my most favorite of all, The Wonderful World of Disney.  We never, ever missed it.  It took me away from the cares and worries and insecurities of daily living and transported me into a magical world where good always triumphed and often good was led by a scruffy young girl or her companion dog or some young kids who confounded the “semi-evil villains”. 

            One of my earliest heroines was Haley Mills.  I so wanted to be her and become like her.  I could recite her lines from all her Disney movies and in private; I could definitely act out her roles.  I sang her songs from “The Parent Trap” until my whole family hated having me come into the room if it looked like I was singing.  I fell in love with her costars in “In Search of the Castaways”.  Whenever possible, I watched anything she was appearing in but back then it took years before a current movie would be shown again on Disney.  She meant much more to me than any of the Mousketeers.   Why couldn’t I have been born British so I could talk like her?  Why couldn’t my parents have been actors so I would have the same chance to be discovered?  Why, Why, Why???  I loved her so much that the only reason I didn’t end up with posters covering my walls and lunch boxes and comic books and anything else featuring her was because I had no money and we never went shopping.  I was so unaware.

            And then she grew up and then I followed shortly afterwards and time and interests changed and I lost track.  She still showed up in movies occasionally and I would attend but never with the same passion – for me - of her childhood days of Disney.

            Now, with good fortune and my husband’s job, I am living in England.  I peruse the newspapers weekly to find good and proper English venues and experiences to attend, some with the Women’s Clubs and some with my husband.  Last week, purely by chance, I saw she was appearing in “Ladies in Lavender” at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre in Guildford which is close to us.  There was NO WAY I could miss the chance to see my childhood idol in person.  OMG, what if I am too late to buy tickets.  Thank goodness I was not but it was a close thing and we bought tickets for the last night of the play.  For this, for once, I just told my husband that we were going rather than asking him if he was interested like I usually try to do.  Luckily he is understanding and interested.

            Neither of us had any clue what the play was about but we did read up on it before we attended.  Nor had either of us ever heard of the movie version of some years back with even more famous actresses playing the parts.  I just wanted to go see Haley.

            Tonight we went and now we are back.  It was a most marvelous experience to finally see her in person even though it has been a good 40 years since my infatuation as a child.  But it’s only been a good week since my infatuation as an adult.  I still love her.  I still think she’s wonderful and beautiful and still wish I could have been like her growing up.  The play was quite good and interesting and all the actors were marvelous.  She played an especially poignant part and played it quite well.  It had some funny bits, and some sad bits and some bittersweet remembrances of times gone by and some horrid thoughts of the realization that war was coming.  So very, very glad we had the opportunity to see her and the play.  I can check another thing off my things I would really love to do.  Don’t really have such a list until something like this comes around and I realize how much of old habits and thoughts can be drug out of the cellar and become a reality.  Seeing an icon!  Priceless. Thank you Haley Mills.

And Not in This wet suit

     Last weekend was a bank holiday and as it coincided with my husband's every other Friday off work, it gave us a four day weekend so off we went.  This time, we went to Sardinia.  It's a pretty big island so we rented a car.  Our original intent was to scuba dive for a day and if we liked it and there was lots to see, we'd do a second day.  So we had made arrangements to stay on the north end of the island where there were several dive shops.  We flew into Olbia and then got our little Fiat Panda and drove up with hilly, twisty, winding road.  Speed limits were around 55 mph but I don't see how anyone could keep up that speed as it was up and down and back and forth and around and around!  We did finally make it to our hotel though and then walked into town to check out the dive shop.

     My husband and I are definitely fair weather divers.  We don't like the cold and we don't like currents but we do love to dive.  They had warned us it would be cold but said they could outfit us without a problem.  We found the shop and they gave us some wet suits to try.  I don't think I've ever seen a wet suit this thick!  I don't think I even knew they made them this thick.  OMG.  AND since I don't normally wear a wet suit, I was in the bathroom struggling and struggling to put it on backwards!    Double OMG.  realized my mistake and by that time, I was exhausted but peeled it off and turned it around and realized  it wasn't going to fit anyway.  Called in my hubby to help me peel it off the parts I had gotten it over and we got another one to try.

     Again, struggling and struggling.  The material of the wet suit if very unyielding and my arthritic hands are just not having a lot of luck pulling this up over the "puffier" parts of my body.  squirming and jumping and pulling and stomping and shaking and twisting and sweating, sweating, sweating.  I am such a fair weather diver and when my husbands tells me that they are going to give us yet ANOTHER shorty wet suit to wear over this longer one, I suddenly lost all desire to dive this week.  Reverse procedure and start pulling it all off and struggling to get out and then putting on my clothes over my sweating tired body and telling them that we might just have to come back when the water is much warmer and when is that by the way?  So best laid plans and all.  No diving this weekend but the photos were wonderful that we saw and there apparently are fish to see and things to do while diving in the Mediterranean so we will have to give it a go sometime.  Just now with a 9mm wetsuit plus shorty on top.  Not sure it will ever get warm enough for us but we'll keep an eye on the temps and try.

Chasing the Passport OR A Good Taxi

       Due to some rather heavy over scheduling, I realized that April would be the only month free of foreign travel where I wouldn't need my passport.  As such, as soon as we returned from our trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar on April 1, I promptly sent off my passport for a new one.  It was quite hard to do as my old passport is nice and fat with visas and stamps and exotic locations but I have to have a new one this year.  The U.S. embassy in London stated that you should allow a month to get your passport back.  By special delivery, my passport got to them on April 3 and we are leaving on May 4 for our next trip.

Around April 18, I got a call from the embassy telling me I needed to send in another photo as the one I had sent wasn't good for their new technology.  I had to run around to the place they "recommended" (they aren't allowed to recommend but he did hint broadly that this particular place did good work), find a post office and send them another application with my new photo and new charge card details.  He assured me that I would still be able to get my passport in time for our trip.

May 1st came and went without a passport showing up and now I am getting nervous but still hopeful.  I must get it on May 2 or I will have to go into London on the 3rd to get an emergency passport or else my husband will be going off on holiday by himself.  May 2 the postman actually came to the door with another package but it wasn't my passport.  GULP.  I immediately got online and did the "request for emergency passport".  Two hours later I had the reply and an appointment for the next day at 2 p.m.  I do ahead and do all the preparation for our trip like packing and getting the proper cash and boarding passes, etc. etc.

This morning I had to drive my husband to work so I would have the car to take the train into London.  I worked out all the time schedules on the train so I would have plenty of time to get to the embassy.  I waited until the last minute and while some packages did arrive at the house, no postman.  So I am off to the train station and to London Waterloo and to Bond Street and to the embassy.  I made good time and got there at 1:30 p.m. and they are pretty much closed for lunch.  Dang.  the guard tells me to return at 1:55p.m.  there's not really anywhere to go so I just go to the park and sit and read and keep watching the time and the door. Finally at 10 till 2, I look at the embassy and figured I could go and maybe get inside.  By the time I turned off my kindle and put it in my purse and stood up and walked the 20 yards back to the embassy, there were 8 people standing there in line!!  Stealth citizens!  they all came out of nowhere.  But they are starting to let people into the embassy and I know that even with a 2 p.m. appointment, if I am in line, I am good to get into the embassy.  Still, it takes 25 minutes to get in because they only let in one person (or group) at a time to go through security and a couple with a baby took 15 minutes for some reason.

Finally I am into security and hand over my car keys, phone and kindle and get my claim tag and get into the embassy and get my magic number.  I had not sat down more than 5 minutes when my number was called.  YEA!  and the on line information had said you could wait 2-4 hours!  I go to the window and explain that my passport had not been returned even though the man said it would.  She explained that if I had an emergency passport that it would cancel out my new one and that I would then have to begin again in the while process but she would check and see the status of where was my old passport and new one.  Took her awhile and talking to 4 people at their desks but when she returned, she said to me that my passports had been mailed yesterday!  She asked me what time I had left the house.  11:30 I replied.  Oh, she replied, it says here they delivered it at 12:45!!!  OMG.  of course they did!  if I'd only had faith!  She is trying to reassure me that I can probably pick it up in the morning before we leave but we have to be at the airport by 9.  Thank goodness we didn't have a 2 or 3 a. m. flight.  So I'm thinking maybe I can get it this evening if I take a taxi home from London which will cost me about 140 pounds.

So I head out of the embassy and collect my things and call my husband immediately and give him the skinny.  His computer is down for a work break but says he will start tracking it down for me and see what are my chances.  I make my way back to London Waterloo.

Reaching London Waterloo, I call again.  his computer is still on a work break.  I can't get a train back to our area for another 20 minutes and I, of course, didn't go to the further train station today but to the one close to home so there are no fast trains.  it will take me at least an hour and 10 minutes to get back to the car park.  After getting totally frustrated and upset and hanging up on my hubby who was only trying hard to help me, I popped onto the train and called him back and asked if he could go pick it up.  I explained that it was NOT the post office in the mall or any of the small ones in shops but it was in some industrial district and he'd have to go home first and get the slip they put through the door that said they'd tried to deliver it.  He was so gracious and immediately called a taxi and left work.

Now I am on the train and on my way and wishing I had a glass of wine or something.  He calls and says he's at home and has the paperwork and the taxi is now going to take him to the station to pick up the car so he can go get it.  Maybe we are saved after all.

Now we come to the Good Taxi part.  The taxi driver took him to our station.  There are two parking lots.  I only knew about one of them which is located behind the train station and across the tracks.  it is not the main parking lot.  the taxi driver and my husband only knew about the main parking station which is by the train station and on the same side of the tracks.  They pulled into the parking lot and my husband does not see our car.  The taxi driver, and my husband was still on the meter and the driver had waited for him at our house while he retrieved the paperwork from the post office, remembered there was another parking lot and drove to it and wow, there's our car.

My husband now gets out and pays the taxi driver.  By now, the driver has been told the story of the passport and knows that my husband is trying to get it before anything closes and that his wife is a little wacky and upset and freaked out too.  He volunteers to drive over to the post office in the industrial park and have my husband follow him in our car.  This is totally off the meter and off the payment plan!  What a very, very nice man and a good person!  It wasn't far from the train station because I have been there but it is hard to find if you have no clue where to go.  The taxi driver drove right to it with my hubby following and took him right into the parking lot and then left him there to go find another far.  This driver is going to get some good karma for his deeds today.

My hubby goes into the post office and retrieves my passports.  I have to carry the old one with me because it has my England visa in it but my new one is all ready now for more exotic locations and stamps and visas.  Yea!  Thank you U.S. Embassy, thank you royal mail special delivery, thank you my wonderful husband, and thank you unknown taxi driver.   We travel anon!!