She's Back
Ten days ago, my mother, who you may remember is 85, took herself off to Tenby on the train. It's about 250 miles and two changes of train but you can book assistance with these and it worked a treat - someone turned up, carried her luggage, took her to the next train and found her seat.
It's been good weather and she's had a wonderful time, staying in our favourite Park Hotel where they all look after her really well. (And I notice that Park Hotel has a new website wooohooo where you can see its rather old-fashioned characterful gorgeousness).
She has swum in the sea every day except one day when it was a bit blustery. She has swum in the hotel's outdoor pool every day before breakfast and usually before lunch as well.
She has walked everywhere in Tenby and even along the ridiculously steep path to the next little bay, Waterwynch.
She has quite a suntan and looks fitter than any eighty-five-year old that I've ever seen. She's fairly bubbling with happiness.
Just before she went it was the Communist's birthday - or would have been, if he was still alive. He died last December, age 85. My mother's not good with dates - - or numbers of any kind since the stroke she had when she was sixty-eight - and she didn't know.
I didn't tell her. She's moved on. I'm sad, but I'm glad. Or, more truthfully, I'm glad - - but I'm sad.
It's been good weather and she's had a wonderful time, staying in our favourite Park Hotel where they all look after her really well. (And I notice that Park Hotel has a new website wooohooo where you can see its rather old-fashioned characterful gorgeousness).
She has swum in the sea every day except one day when it was a bit blustery. She has swum in the hotel's outdoor pool every day before breakfast and usually before lunch as well.
She has walked everywhere in Tenby and even along the ridiculously steep path to the next little bay, Waterwynch.
She has quite a suntan and looks fitter than any eighty-five-year old that I've ever seen. She's fairly bubbling with happiness.
Just before she went it was the Communist's birthday - or would have been, if he was still alive. He died last December, age 85. My mother's not good with dates - - or numbers of any kind since the stroke she had when she was sixty-eight - and she didn't know.
I didn't tell her. She's moved on. I'm sad, but I'm glad. Or, more truthfully, I'm glad - - but I'm sad.
posted by Daphne at 12:56 am
4 Comments:
Hate it when my gardener goes off on holiday so I'm glad she had a bit of fun but now it's time to get back to work.
Next year she'll be wanting 2 weeks off ! Just can't get the flaming staff these days.
Lovely blog post, Daphne.
And to Silverback, are you saying the assistant gardener doesn't pull her weight in the head gardener's absence? They seemed to work pretty well as a team when you took your last six month vacation, although I can report the assistant gardener took her own extended leave of absence in the winter. She went to somewhere called Florida I think.
I am fairly vibrating with anticipation at meeting your Mum. I do so hope I make it over there next summer!
I think it would be difficult and yet a relief to have a parent that just 'moved on' if things were good in the relationship. I'd be happy for them, but a bit of me would be so sad, like yourself. Den's mum has moved on, but Den's dad was a bad man. I'm thrilled 100% for her. I was kind of happy when my Dad said he'd never marry again. Selfish? Yep, probably.
Sounds like your mam has discovered the secret of eternal youth. Please put some in a bottle and send it my way.
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