This summer I had the longest time out of Cyprus for many years. I'm so thankful to those who put me up (or, perhaps, put up with me?), particularly my family in Carlisle who had me for the bulk of my UK visit. It was wonderful being an on-the-spot Grandma for so long, and I was very well looked after.
Among other things, I played a lot of games with my granddaughter, who is seven-and-a-half. Early in my stay, we played Boggle almost daily, and also the card game Skyjo. I've never really understood why Skyjo is so appealing; it's easy to learn, quick to play, and has very little skill. Or so it seems... but some people (including my granddaughter) manage to win considerably more often than would happen if the game were purely luck.
And, by the time I'd played thirty or forty games, usually first thing in the morning, I was starting to win more often. I have no idea why.
We continued to visit the Carlisle library most weekends, and also the wonderful 'Bookcase' second-hand shop. It's an amazing place, with several floors and dozens of different sections. The basement has a lot of children's books, and the grandchildren will sit and read for as long as they're able.
Prices aren't as good as charity shops, but there is a huge selection. Unfortunately there isn't an online catalogue. But the staff on duty are very helpful.
On other days, depending on the weather, we went out for walks, or went to local parks. We had one morning visit to the Watchtree nature reserve. The children rented bikes, and the adults walked a pleasant trail of a few kilometres.
We also visited a place called Dalston, not far away, where there was another good walk through a natural environment, and a park. What we didn't know was that it was the first day of the village festival. So we were quite amused to see a rubber duck race in the stream...
There were scarecrows around the village, taking on a variety of important roles:
We walked around an art exhibition in a church, too, and were shown some conjuring tricks. The sun shone and we ate lunch outside.
I mentioned in the previous post that I was planning to go to my aunt's funeral towards the end of my stay. It was a bit complex organising the transport. The best value was to get a train to Birmingham, then a National Express coach from there to Cardiff. The only problem was having to get from New Street train station to Digbeth coach station. They're not that far apart, but Birmingham has changed a lot since I lived there, and I'm not familiar with the city centre any more.
So I allowed an hour each time for this.
I left Carlisle just after lunch on the last day of July. The train was mostly on time; maybe five minutes late, so I still had plenty of time to get to Digbeth. But I didn't want to take any chances, and there were taxis waiting outside New Street. So that was easy, even if it cost me a few extra pounds.
I arrived at the coach station in Cardiff just after 8pm and was very thankful that my sister met me there in the car. It had been a long afternoon, and I appreciated having my Kindle with me as I travelled.
Funerals are always poignant and difficult, especially for the close family. My brother took our aunt's funeral service, and it was as uplifting and encouraging as possible in the circumstances. It was a bonus to spend some extra time with my three siblings, although I had seen them all in June. It was also good to catch up briefly with my cousins, one of whom I had not seen for about forty years. I hope it won't be another forty years before we see each other again...
My return journey to Carlisle started mid-morning on August 2nd. My sister drove me to the Cardiff coach station (so called, though it's outside) and my coach was due to leave just before 11am. It left a little late, but I was thankful not to be on another one, a couple of lanes down, which evidently had a serious problem. All the passengers were told to disembark and leave their luggage behind... they were still waiting when the one I was on departed.
Traffic was quite heavy en route to Birmingham, and by the time it reached Digbeth it was half an hour after its expected time of arrival. I knew I had another half-hour and that the taxi outgoing took only about five minutes, but I was still somewhat anxious about reaching New Street in time. I was more concerned still when I got out and there were no taxis to be seen. I headed in what I hoped was the right direction, thinking I would find a taxi elsewhere, but traffic was almost at a standstill in places, and there were no taxi ranks.
So I kept walking. My sense of direction is appalling (some would say non-existent) but I tried to relax, reminding myself that I did pay an extra pound or so when booking the train which, I think, would have allowed me to go on a later one if necessary. I was praying for guidance as I attempted not to panic; the sun was out and I was getting warmer and warmer after the air conditioned coach....
Then suddenly I recognised where I was. It was not far from the ramp that used to lead up to the bull-ring shopping centre. I knew all the indoor centres had changed, and prayed that it still led to the station, as I had no idea where the main entrance was.
To my great relief, the ramp still existed, as did the escalators down to the train station. I had done the walk in about ten minutes. I suspect a taxi would have taken longer, given the traffic. The time was 14.45 and I thought my train was at 15.00, but it wasn't showing on the board. I didn't know which platform to go to. I found my ticket - I had both an e-version and a printed one - and to my surprise (and relief) the booked train was actually for 15.10. With an extra ten minutes, I was able to use a loo and buy some sandwiches and iced coffee, as I hadn't had any lunch.
I got on the train in plenty of time, and although it was about ten minutes late arriving in Carlisle, I was back at my son's home by about 6.30 in the evening, for our last weekend together.
On Monday we played games most of the morning, then walked to town and had lunch at a pleasant (and surprisingly good value) restaurant called Bordo's.
We followed that with coffee at Costa, and then the family all came onto the platform to wave me off as I left on the train to Glasgow.
It was perhaps appropriate that it started to rain about half an hour after I had left, and continued for the rest of the day. I was glad I had my lightweight rain jacket with me, easily reachable in my backpack. At Glasgow Central railway station I asked at the information office how to get to the airport, and was given excellent directions to the appropriate bus. I was a little surprised at how long it took to get to the airport - perhaps I shouldn't have been, as the fare was higher than I had expected.
Indeed, it wasn't a great afternoon. So much so that I didn't take any photos at all. Glasgow Airport was devoid of anyone who might be able to help me, and I couldn't find any shuttle buses to the Travelodge where I was booked in for the night. I did find a map which showed it, and set off, walking, in the right direction. However I found myself in a car park which I wandered round for far too long before I found the way out - back near the airport.
I asked someone in uniform near the airport how to get to the Travelodge and was told to look for the Premier Inn, and then it would be obvious.
They were wrong.
But there was a garage near the Premier Inn so I went into the shop and asked a helpful assistant, who pointed me in the right direction. By then I was feeling drenched... my lightweight jacket is showerproof, but not fully waterproof, and I hadn't been able to keep the hood up. My trousers and socks were damp, too. I had to trudge along the side of a road, on a grassy verge where my pull-along large cabin case was looking decidedly wet.
I did eventually find the Travelodge, and was extremely thankful to do so. It only had two storeys and was surrounded by quite tall trees and hedges. There is no way it could have been visible from the Premier Inn. I had been walking for an hour. I had to open the case and remove the socks I had put around the edges, so they could dry out. I was so tired I lay down for an hour before going to get something to eat at the restaurant.
Then it was hard to sleep, because the room was quite light and too warm; but as it looked over a car park I didn't want to open the window as it was too noisy. The bed wasn't particularly comfortable either. Previously I've had great experiences with Travelodges, which are 'cheap and cheerful', but usually more comfortable.
I eventually slept, and then had further disappointment when the breakfast bar had no apple juice, no fruit compote (one of my favourite Travelodge breakfast items) and, worst of all, the coffee machine was out of order. I had some instant coffee for the caffeine, but it was my least favourite brand; one I wouldn't normally use.
However, there was one very good thing. When I checked out, I asked the person on duty what was the easiest way to walk to the airport, and she gave me clear directions. The day was bright and clear, and I walked back to the airport in about ten minutes.
Glasgow Airport doesn't have great wifi; it wouldn't let me use Whatsapp or even send text messages, but Facebook and Messenger worked, as did Duolingo. And when it came to boarding my flight, I was glad I had 'easy boarding' (allowing me the large cabin bag as well as my backpack) as it was quick and very efficient.
Unlike the many horror stories I've heard recently from friends and relatives, the flight left on time and arrived in Larnaka early. And since it was evening, and almost dark, it wasn't nearly as hot as I had feared.
It's a relief to be home again, after all the travelling.
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