To the UK
Our Flight to the UK and House with the Red Cross
We very much enjoyed our visit to Vizcaya but ‘the wicked witch’ beckoned us back to the car to direct us to the airport just fifteen minutes away. We wondered what Henry Ford, Thomas Edison or James Deering would make of the Miami skyline.
A very slick process to return our hire car and board the transfer train to the terminal. All checked in, time for a cuppa.
Our flight was not going to have a mention on the blog until the First Officer made his morning announcement. He had been in charge overnight and apparently set a new record for the craft. Over Newfoundland for several minutes we reached a speed of seven hundred and sixty miles an hour. The 747-400 cruises at 564 mph with a top cruising speed of 583.468 mph. No wonder we got in early and what with food, drinks and a movie – no sleep.
I had felt a little snuffle after Butterfly World, a heavy head around Vizcaya, but by the time I was sitting in the waiting area of B19 – people were actively walking around me with a wide berth their fingers crossed not to be seated anywhere near me. Settled on the plane with Bear by the window a pleasant young man sat to my right, before we had even began moving he gleefully said he was off to another seat. I felt entirely like I was carrying the plague.
Soon sorted at Heathrow, hire car picked up and off to Swindon.
What greeted us can best be described as two candidates for ‘Wanted’ posters. Mark with his septic throat that looked like two bits of raw steak dangling and Kate heavy with a cold; the pair of them doing a good harmony with the hacking fits of coughing that any self respecting tramp would be proud of.
(I am so going to be in trouble when Kate sees this picture of herself)
Poorly little Jack did his best to be chirpy and play but gave in to ‘crash and burn’. I had a couple of teacakes and fell into bed for a few hours with Bear snoring heavily beside me. We had arrived at 09:00 and managed just a couple of hours.
Some may say that Bear was holding up the banner of health for the family but with his trapped sciatic nerve and numb right foot, he only has to try to walk to show he makes for a bad Department of Health advertising choice. Later the boys did male bonding over their I Pads. Meanwhile I went to shower, soon clean but feeling grim, I was drying off when a small person asked if they could come in for a wee. Jack sat on the toilet and watched as I did a bit of dusting about the nether regions.
“Grandma are you putting powder on your Minnie ??”
Oh I don’t like chafe.
“Is that the same powder boxers use ??”
Now this three year old has no idea why his grandmother is laughing uncontrollably.
Later we were doing a bit of sparring – Jack gently punching the palms of my hands in a one-two rhythm.
“Grandma, we should be naked to do this properly.”
I do hope this is due to him having seen Gladiator - best not delve - but there I was in helpless fits of laughter once more.
Needless to say there has been plenty of tissue used in the house and I could get a full time job as a snotologist.
ALL IN ALL JUST PAINTING A RED CROSS ON THE FRONT DOOR
STEADY, HOPPY, STEADY