It’s a double-entry day on the Frog Blog! Here’s my recent trip to the UK, and underneath is the story of Matt’s week. The boys dropped me at Angouleme station around 10am last Thursday. Given the time of day and year, I was expecting a quiet journey, but as it turned out, all of my trains were full. For train #1, I was sat next to a very sweet old lady in her 80s. Like a typical French person, as soon as we hit mid-day, she declared it lunch time. I’d planned to leave it as late as possible before eating, but she just wouldn’t hear of it. In the end I had little choice but to accept her offer and shared her sandwich with her. It was very sweet and in return, I sat through a chunk of her life story, and helped her off the train at Lille.
The trains grew busier and busier as I neared my destination, with the last one, from London to Bedford, being both grossly overcrowded and overpriced. Mum collected me from Bedford and we got back to find Dad already home and dinner underway. He’d made a yummy form of Salade Niçoise (but with grilled chicken instead of tuna on one half). We enjoyed a few glasses of wine and then called it a night. Mum has recently added a home-made mattress cover to the guest bed, making it extremely comfy – although I’ve become so used to sleeping in pitch darkness and total silence that I didn’t sleep too well that night.
The following day was Nan’s actual birthday, and Mum had the day off work. I ran out for a haircut in the morning and then Mum, auntie Tracey and I took Nan out to lunch at a lovely traditional old pub in the nearby town of Yardley Hastings. Everyone ordered fish & chips and I was sorely tempted too, but in the end opted for sausage and mash. I don’t think we got up to much else of note that day, apart from another quiet and delicious family meal, preceded by some divine home-made cocktails.
Saturday was the day of the party. Mum and her siblings had divided up the task of organising the event between them, and they all did a brilliant job. Equally challenging was the task of keeping Nan in the dark about the party, something we weren’t sure we’d managed. Dave and Amy showed up in the afternoon, just in time to sample the lovely soup and even lovelier pear and vodka sorbet that Dad served up for lunch. At 4.30, my bestest friend Anna finished work and drove over to Olney to drag me out for a very welcome catch up in a local pub. I got back to Mum & Dad’s around 6 and then Dave, Amy and I went to collect Nan. Once at hers we presented her with her gift from the Roberts family: a long weekend out here at Port 80! This was Dave’s idea and a very lovely one too. Mum and Dad are paying for the flights, Dave and Amy will be escorts, and Matt & I are playing host. Dave had made up a brilliant ‘voucher’ in Photoshop for her to unwrap, and she was thrilled with the gift.
Nan had been told we were going out for a meal that night and seemed to accept this without question. However, she grew suspicious as we headed to the other end of town, away from the restaurants. The venue’s called the “Olney Centre” (tres imaginative) and is an old school that was converted into a library and function rooms. By the time we got Nan there, everyone had arrived already and the place was suitably festooned with balloons. Nan was blown away and to our relief, told us she really hadn’t suspected a thing. In addition to more or less the entire family clan, we’d also invited along all of her friends. There must have been around 50 people in total. There were sandwiches and other finger food, lots of beer, and some incredibly elaborate cakes that my cousin Stephanie had made for the occasion. I’m something of a black sheep in the family in that I am rarely around for family gatherings and since moving abroad, have missed out on several weddings and other big events, so it was good to see everyone again.
We had the venue booked until 11 and most people were still there at that point. A group of us quickly dealt with the clean-up and we were back at Mum & Dad’s around midnight – time for a final cleanser before bed. As Dave has rented out his place in Olney and moved in with Amy in Market Harborough, they were in the guest bedroom and I was demoted to the sofa.
The following morning, I felt a bit like I’d drunk too much and slept on a sofa, but a shower sorted me out. I called in to see Nan to say goodbye and then Mum took me to Bedford for the London portion of my trip. My host was Iain as usual, and I was pleased to hear that a mutual friend of ours, a Parisian called Dominique, is now lodging there too. He’s hilarious and I hadn’t seen him in years. As I was tired from the previous night, I decided to have an early one. I picked up a couple cans of beer and a pasta salad and amused myself with an Eddie Izzard DVD.
Monday morning saw me awake but still tired. I’ve worked out that my problem isn’t noise so much as light. Unlike out in the Dordogne, it never gets fully dark either in Olney or London at night so I’m always awake far too early. I showered and then started making plans for the day. In the morning, I headed out to the City for a browse and lunch, and then I got the tube out west to visit our purveyor of exotic herbs. He used to live in Dalston, but now has a new place in Chelsea which is very lovely, if much less convenient. I got back to Iain’s to dump off my purchases and then made my way to Whitechapel to visit our friend David at the Royal London hospital.
10 days after his stoke, David was still in intensive care. He’s developed pneumonia which the nurses are struggling to combat, so in addition to all the other leads and wires, he’s also currently hooked up to a ventilator. I’d done my best to prepare myself, but nonetheless, I found it a harrowing experience. I’d thought about what I was going to say beforehand, blurted it all out within minutes of arriving and was left wondering what to talk about. One-way conversations are hard to maintain and the sight of David had left me reeling. I stayed for about half an hour, taking comfort in the fact that he did make eye contact every time I spoke to him, even if there was no response. He’d been heavily sedated up until the Saturday before, but when I saw him he was just on painkillers. As a result, I was hoping there’d be more interaction, but obviously it’s still too early for that. I should add that subsequent updates from his family are more encouraging and he is showing signs of comprehension. It will obviously be a very long and arduous road from here, but he’s out of any immediate physical danger at least.
That evening, Steve Wardlaw from next door took me out for a meal in nearby Broadway Market. This street, like the rest of Dalston, is now very much gentrified with trendy new bars and restaurants popping up all over. Steve suggested either Turkish or French and I assumed he was joking when he insisted on the latter after I opted for the former, but he was not. Well, it had been a week since I’d eaten French I suppose. Perhaps luckily, the meal was not traditional French, though the waitress was and was pleased to be able to chat to me in her native tongue. For Steve and I, the conversation focused almost exclusively on David. After an enjoyable meal and catch-up, we walked home and both got an early night.
Tuesday, my final day in the UK, was shopping day. I started off in the West end where I had a mini clothes shop followed by lunch. I then met up with my lovely friend Fran, whom I met via my old job. She still works there (although is currently on maternity leave) and was able to fill me in on all the latest gossip. The biggest news being that the draconian and insane Managing Director is being forced to resign by the even madder CEO, but has promised not to go down without a fight. That place was always a giant soap opera and I miss it not one bit. After Fran, I hit Sainsbury’s for food supplies and then got back to Iain’s with very sore feet. That evening, we were 5 for dinner. Along with Iain, his partner Gian-Carlo and myself were our lovely friend Matt Jones and his new partner, Jimmy. I rarely get to see Matt when I come over, so this was a real treat – as indeed was the divine 4 course meal Iain made.
I had an early start the next day and it was a school night for everyone else, so it wasn’t a late one. I was out of the door at 8.15 to begin my long return journey. I ended up taking the Disneyland Paris train this time, which would be the best route – it’s a very brief stopover and by then you’re already close to halfway – but as it’s the Disneyland train, it’s always overrun with hoardes of horrible, screaming children and their chavvy parents. I will not be making that mistake again…