Written Wednesday morning, 26th August. 11.30hrs.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regard 2020 as a wasted year, but it has certainly been very different and still, the luxury of an assured plan or anticipation of any kind of future, has never been so uncertain, particularly when planning far reaching travel. Taking each day as it comes seems like a relevant cliche at the moment.
Yesterday was wet and miserable, to the point of being remarkable! The wind howled, so much so that the high winds were bestowed the name, “Storm Francis”.
Sister and Brother in Law Mary and John ventured down to Brighton beach, a short walk from their home, to witness the high waves pounding the shore. (I might have enjoyed that!) In Buxton, I was still getting over whatever brought me to a (horizontal) stand on Monday. Everything seems almost normal today(Wednesday).
While slouched on my sofa yesterday, watching “Midsomer Murders”, I answered the telephone. It was former work colleague Carl Evans with the news that Cunard had cancelled its Alaska and Far East voyages for next year. I was booked on the “mother of all North America and Alaska odysseys” also taking in Japan and South Korea. Before all that, three weeks of ambling around the United States in the best accommodation Amtrak has to offer. This would have been one spectacular and lengthy journey. For whatever reason, my initial reaction was “that will save a quid or two”. You see, I always try to “look on the bright side!”. While I have every confidence we will eventually return to some kind of acceptable normality, I see my seventies evaporating like the “dew in the morn”.
Although feeling slightly weird after my excursion to A & E the day before, I was glad to accept an invite for lunch, yesterday. Roger and I would be joined by his daughter who has come over for the week. We dined at the newly re-opened Bull I’ th’ Thorn, an ancient hostel 10 minutes’ drive from home, towards Ashbourne. In later decades, it had become a pub/restaurant of varying fortunes. Open land behind gives way to camping and caravans with facilities, behind the eatery. The restaurant had eventually closed before the onset of Covid-19, and the 15th century building remained locked up for much of last year. Apparently, “Thorn” denotes crossroads; far back in the day, a thorn tree would be planted as a marker for crossroads to guide stagecoach drivers etc. of the time. Sometime this year, the place re-opened, not as pub/restaurant, but as a rather nice traditional cafe, reminiscent of somewhere my parents would take us to when we were little.
So now, I have to cancel my holiday insurance, and hope I don’t need to do a course in dentistry…“pulling teeth” comes to mind when cancelling travel insurance.
My plans are for a quiet day today; I’m not quite ready to venture far today.
Thanks for reading, David 12.33. 26/8/20.
David's Cruise 