Praise for Britain's Railways, Shock!
"So," thought my mother, "why should I be left at home whilst everyone goes away?"
And it so happened that one of our actors, and friend, Sonia Beck is playing Lady Macbeth in a tour of Wales at the moment.
Her husband Adrian Metcalfe, also a friend, is playing Macbeth. It's not the jolliest of plays and, in a glorious mismatch of play and venue, they are performing it at the De Valence Pavilion in Tenby, in South Wales tonight: a venue which is really more suited to comedy and musicals.
So my mother decided that she would go to Tenby to see it, and spend a few days at our beloved Park Hotel which we've been visiting for over forty years.
She's coming back on Monday to have a few days to get ready before my brother Michael collects her and takes her to Amsterdam for a few days.
But although she's very fit, she is eighty four and a half, and had a stroke when she was sixty-eight and, although she's made a near-miraculous recovery, she's rather deaf and no good with numbers.
So this makes travelling by train, on her own, a bit fraught with difficulty. And from Leeds to Tenby requires two changes, with not much time to do them in.
Stephen took my mother to book the ticket at Leeds Station. The woman behind the counter looked at my mother, who is tiny and slim.
"Would she like some help on the way?" she asked.
She filled in a form with all Mum's trains on it. And at every station, someone met her, took her to her next train and carried her luggage. She loved it!
The journey - two hundred and fifty miles - took about seven hours but she arrived just in time for dinner and found to her delight that there was a dance in the hotel that night, and a big coach party who liked dancing.
She rang me at half-past eleven, having danced every dance and had a wonderful evening. This morning she's gone down the cliff path for a walk on the beach. I made her promise not to swim in the sea, so this afternoon she's off to find the public swimming-pool.
The Communist, in contrast, is stuck in the nursing-home, though taking it all with remarkable stoicism.
"Your mother seems to be having a good time. Will you ring me when you get to America?" he said when I visited him this morning.
"Yes, Dad, of course I will." Of course, he can hardly go anywhere now and I felt terrible: though I think he was proud of my mother's globe-trotting.
Anyway, Britain's railways, in general, get a lot of well-deserved stick for their lateness and general unpleasantness. But yesterday, for my mother, they really turned up trumps.
And it so happened that one of our actors, and friend, Sonia Beck is playing Lady Macbeth in a tour of Wales at the moment.
Her husband Adrian Metcalfe, also a friend, is playing Macbeth. It's not the jolliest of plays and, in a glorious mismatch of play and venue, they are performing it at the De Valence Pavilion in Tenby, in South Wales tonight: a venue which is really more suited to comedy and musicals.
So my mother decided that she would go to Tenby to see it, and spend a few days at our beloved Park Hotel which we've been visiting for over forty years.
She's coming back on Monday to have a few days to get ready before my brother Michael collects her and takes her to Amsterdam for a few days.
But although she's very fit, she is eighty four and a half, and had a stroke when she was sixty-eight and, although she's made a near-miraculous recovery, she's rather deaf and no good with numbers.
So this makes travelling by train, on her own, a bit fraught with difficulty. And from Leeds to Tenby requires two changes, with not much time to do them in.
Stephen took my mother to book the ticket at Leeds Station. The woman behind the counter looked at my mother, who is tiny and slim.
"Would she like some help on the way?" she asked.
She filled in a form with all Mum's trains on it. And at every station, someone met her, took her to her next train and carried her luggage. She loved it!
The journey - two hundred and fifty miles - took about seven hours but she arrived just in time for dinner and found to her delight that there was a dance in the hotel that night, and a big coach party who liked dancing.
She rang me at half-past eleven, having danced every dance and had a wonderful evening. This morning she's gone down the cliff path for a walk on the beach. I made her promise not to swim in the sea, so this afternoon she's off to find the public swimming-pool.
The Communist, in contrast, is stuck in the nursing-home, though taking it all with remarkable stoicism.
"Your mother seems to be having a good time. Will you ring me when you get to America?" he said when I visited him this morning.
"Yes, Dad, of course I will." Of course, he can hardly go anywhere now and I felt terrible: though I think he was proud of my mother's globe-trotting.
Anyway, Britain's railways, in general, get a lot of well-deserved stick for their lateness and general unpleasantness. But yesterday, for my mother, they really turned up trumps.
posted by Daphne at 1:52 pm
2 Comments:
A wonderful post, Daffy. So glad your young-at-heart mom got there safe and sound - even though this means she'll be neglecting her work in my garden this weekend, the slacker.
Lets see if Virgin Atlantic will be as good getting you to sunny Orlando tomorrow. You'll have no changes but I fear you'll have to carry your own bags, which will most likely go on a separate holiday to Somalia.
See you in 34 hrs. not that I'm counting or anything.........
Your mum sounds absolutely brilliant, Daphne - and your poor dad too. I'm sure he's proud of your mum even though he can't go with her.
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