Knickers and Getting Plastered

Well dear reader …. they say with age comes wisdom … they also say there’s an exception to every rule 😬

Today was a sort of monumental day. The first go at getting to the hospital with hospital transport, and (I know, pushing my luck) getting two birds with one stone with the delightful peeps at Orthotics.

Never having used the service before I had visions of waiting ages for transport, sitting at the hospital for hours before my appointment time, the clinic running late and then waiting hours (needing a pee) for transport home.

The rule of thumb is to be ready to go about two hours before appointment time. So just before 1pm I was ceremoniously hoisted into my wheelchair, slipper socks on my feet (saves the faff of shoes), coat out the cupboard and credit card tucked into the bra (listen, if some Herbert is going to try and nab it, I’m getting some fun out of the game). Wheeled through to the lounge to wait……..ticktockticktock.

Two lovely ladies arrived and I was anchored and strapped into the back of the van for the 1.9 mile journey. The corridor at Orthotics was deserted, I mean there was no one, nothing, nowt, not even distant voices! After a short while a smart chap appeared and wheeled me to the room.

The reason I was there was for some soft foot splints to help stretch my ligaments, as now I’m off my feet they will naturally shorten and twist. He discussed options, showed me several pictures and he decided that the custom shaped would be best. This involves plaster casts on both legs from knee to tip of toes, and hands rubbing up and down the muscle as the plaster moulds and hardens. 😋 So moulds could be made.

We also discussed my back brace. Side bar m’lud, earlier in the week I telephoned the Neuro Consult Secretary to see if the referral had been sent, to find that the system says that my December appointment he called me and there was no answer (I feckin well did! 45 minutes late but he called and we talked). I crossed my fingers that they’d get the referral done and walked the three corridors, by today, but nope. He looked at my brace and measured me and flicked through more books and had an ‘ah-ha’ moment. He said he would like to try a ‘this’ style as it supports front and back without the rigidity at the side ….. and ….. ::drumroll:: ….. I wouldn’t have to pay for it!

After that, the Orthotics Secretary wheeled me back to main reception and informed transport I was ready. Before too long the lovely ladies loaded me up and drove me back. Within a snip and a snap I was hoisted back onto my comfy sofa and it was only 3:45pm!

Maybe the reason everything went so well today was because ….. I am wearing my undies inside out 😊

 

Bombs Building Sandcastles

No…………Body………..Move or sneeze or burp or

Well, dear reader, it’s been an interesting few days. Just up the road from my new abode they are constructing a third river crossing, it’s been thirty years in discussion, three years in building and should be operational by May this year – providing they are no more snaffoo like this week.

Tuesday morning a little left-over from 1942 was dredged up from the river beside the construction area. A one meter long, 250lb bomb, that for the past 81 years has napped through thunderstorms, heavy vibrating ships and boats slowly trundling over it, the rumbling of lorries and vehicles along the road beside it, even the pile driving of the river wall strengthening and outer harbour construction, not to mention the seismic waves when the nearby power station chimneys were demolished.

Police closed roads and began evacuating homes and businesses, placing a 100m cordon around the area. After the Bomb Squad arrived they extended the cordon to mandatory evacuation up to 200m and voluntary but strongly advised 400m zones. This included a small dementia home, who have stayed put but have their minibus and trailer packed with kit and essentials should it become necessary.

The local newspaper has been keeping a ‘live update’ page going throughout the day, giving much needed info such as where evacuation centres are, which roads are closed, the consequential congestion (at one time traffic was moving at the heady speed of a whole two miles per hour!). As well as some typical local media style reporting, like, “Warnings that car windows and camera lenses could crack if….” Proper Pulitzer stuff!

It was decided that a 400 ton sand house would be built around Berty Bomb before any attempts to defuse it could begin. Now 400 ton isn’t a couple of lorry loads and most of Wednesday was taken with getting the sand in place. It looks like sand was compacted into large bags that were then placed, brick like, immediately around the bomb, then a second wall built around that. Then a ceiling of sand was added. A walkway barely wide enough for a beefy bloke or robot to fit through snaked between the sand walls.

All was progressing well until …… “I say chaps, has anyone checked utility maps” slightly blank faces.

“Bally eck, there are gas pipelines under the road!!”

No doubt tea was brewed as tools were downed and a clutch of technicals got their calculators out and recalibrated their thoughts.

Of course, I’m paraphrasing and making light, but how come it hadn’t occurred sooner.

The plan seems to be, after the sand has settled, to send in Robo to start cutting into the bomb, to defuse the detonation circuits and make it ‘safe’, for it then to be taken out to sea, strapped to a better bomb, sunk and then detonated.

Another hold up, water is getting into the area and compromising the sand walls – we’ve all been there with our beach sandcastles. Repairs are needed before Robo can continue his delicate cutting. It seemed the cutting equipment was causing the water build up, so another stoppage and brew up to decide on another option to defuse. The slow burn was the only option left.

And then ………….

Berty unexpectedly went boom.

Thankfully all personnel working the area are unharmed and accounted for. It seems no property or vehicles have been damaged either. Where I am (under half a mile if the crow flies straight) it rattled the newly installed fire doors and echoed through the corridor but the earth didn’t move.

 

Boxed In And Sticky

Well folks, I arrived ….. that was the easy bit!

Pre-move day two delightful chaps arrived with boxes, bubble wrap and paper, oh and a pint of milk so they could brew up. They set to and during our chats and anecdotes made two remarks, one that I was organised and had made things straightforward for them and two that I was a ‘character’ (what, who? Moi! Well I say). After a bustling three hours the twenty five boxes were taped up and marked and things were ready for the next morning.

Move day – while still in my pit I went to use the house phone but my provider had already disconnected the service (charming) thankfully my mobile was at hand and I booked a wheelchair taxi for 12:30 to take me to my new digs. After a tearful goodbye to my last carer I had a few minutes of quiet reflection in my hovel of thirty years, two months and ten days. It looked worn, dusty and unkempt which was a sad sight, both of us suffering from my deterioration. Before long the big red van pulled up and the two chaps cheerily arrived ready to start the lifting and shifting. After a few false starts I sort of otched on the slide board into the wheelchair and the movers kindly oiked me into a comfy position and parked me in a corner. It seemed to be endless the stream of boxes and chests of drawers that were carted out. Then the big sofa and the big desk.

At about noon my mobile rant, taxi had to cancel because his airport run had been delayed and he wouldn’t be back in time to take me. Bugger, oh well, something had to go wrong. I had saved another company in my phone and called them and they said they would be there is about 30/40 minutes. That was that sorted. Time for me to vacate and wait in the hot sun. After a final brew up and a walk through check, the door was locked and keys put into my bag. We waited and waited. I called the company back to their profuse apologies they’d forgotten me (is that even possible!) and a car would be there in five. Hmm, yeah, a car arrived not a wheelchair car so taxi driver called and a wheelchair car was dispatched. I told the movers to head off as the assisted living complex were expecting them and had keys, they reluctantly set off but within a minute the wheelchair cab arrived, I was loaded and off we went. My throat choked but I kept it together, just.

Somehow it only took half the time to unload. Furniture was put in place, boxes were organised and BroInLaw started unboxing the kitchen ones putting stuff anywhere so it was somewhere. A couple of carers arrived and made up the bed. I said thank you and goodbye to the movers and made arrangements for how the boxes and packing to be collected. The front window doesn’t stay open so a tin of tomatoes has been deployed as window stopper, it’s a South East facing window so the strongest afternoon sun doesn’t bake like my previous West facing window.

I was in ….. rather smoothly if somewhat stickily.

A couple of the carers came Wednesday and unpacked a number of boxes with me directing where I wanted things for now. They chuckled at the stories, marvelled at my antics and adventures and were pleased my instructions were clear and followable. I tried bribing them with a chocolate biscuit but they declined. It really helped make the place look less like box city. There are still boxes in the bedroom and bathroom and it’s curious the things that haven’t come to light. I have a tiger mother and cubs ornament and a tigger drinking beaker yet to be unearthed but they were the lad things packed in a box.

There is a handyman who is available for small jobs I’ve pre-warned him that I have a lot of pictures to go up. That was all the easy bits.

OT had ordered a different style of shower/commode chair to be delivered last week, it was not there. Trying to shuffle from my old chair onto the loo with very few hand holds was sweat inducing and exhausting, shuffling back was even harder. On day two, just as I expected (and had remarked back in May) the loo seat broke. The new shower chair arrived sounding like the tinniest hostess trolley and as hard too, as well as about an inch and a half higher, after sheer brute force and belligerence on my part I got onto it. During that time I crunched bones, pinched skin, stamped circles on my thigh courtesy of the hole where the removed arm slots into, bruised my butt because the boney bit of my butt is against the hard uncushioned plastic. I still cannot defy gravity and slide up hill (how very rude of me). The concerned carers are all remarking how intolerable it is for me, how undignified (please, I lost that many years ago) that something else has to be done and urgently, also amazed at my ingenuity, fortitude and strength. The manager initiated an ‘urgent’ OT visit, but that’s days. I left messages on my OT’s phone but the whole system is not geared up to create solutions, just to provide the cheapest, standardised kit to sort of solve a solution. We’ve botched a new method, using my old cushioned shower chair, standing commode bowl on the floor beneath and hope it catches everything. Sorry TMI??

Anyway, I survived the packing, the move, the heat and the hottest day of the year. But I might not survive OT, they bring out the very worst of me and I don’t like it.

On a much lighter note, I’ve had some very sweet cards from my carers wishing me well and saying they will miss me, I will miss them. They all helped me transition into this world where I need personal care.

 

David Helfgott

Back in October 2009 BFF and I went on one of our epic expeditions. This time we traveled to Vienna to attend the David Helfgott concert at the Mozart Hall of the Concert House – front row too!

Some of you may recognise his name, he was the subject of the Oscar winning film Shine in 1996. David, an Australian born concert pianist, son of Polish-Jewish immigrants, developed a schizoaffective disorder during his time in London at the Royal College of Music. He returned to Perth where, after numerous treatment methods, was a rehearsal pianist for the Australian Opera and part time pianist at a wine bar.

His performance style has often been criticised as “reducing music to a rubble of notes”, but he does have a completely innocent, child like rapture and charm that comes through the emotion of the pieces he plays. His disorder maybe unpredictable and mannerisms unusual but he truly just wants to bring joy to all. He brings back the ethos that classical music is for all, not just the black tie, exclusive, regimentally trained few.

David is incredibly tactile, and verbal with his little mantras. After the show he hugged us plentifully and uttered “Be happy today, we must be happy”. My endearing memory as he was part way down the stairs from the dressing room was to scurry back to me declaring “Just one more” as he hugged and kissed us both again.

Vienna itself is a stunningly beautiful city, we wandered around the grounds of Belvedere Palace, once home to the Austrian Royal Family, including Frank Ferdinand whose assassination sparked the outbreak of World War One. The Palace itself an art gallery where we saw art by Gustav Klimt, Claude Monet, Jacques Louis David, although the quiet was rather disturbed by my wheelchair’s slight squeak and the creak of the parquet flooring. The marble room with its six foot tall fire places and tromploy ceilings was something to be marvelled.

Wandering the streets through the stunning architecture, beautiful buildings with incredible tableaux, discovering alabaster white statues or fountains at every corner. The sound of horses hooves echoing through the narrow streets made everything so atmospheric. Seeing the famous Lipizzaner horses in their stables. The food of the coffee houses, all the wood panelling, mirrors and crystal chandeliers.

A completely enchanting experience.

 

Staycation

This morning BFF flew home to Bonny Scotland after staying here to take care of me for a smidge over two weeks. After the stress and worries this year has thrown at me, the postponement of our April pj-party due to CoVid19, it was so unbelievably uplifting to have BFF walk through my door.

Our time together has three main heading, films, food and yarning. Now that might be silly chatter yarning or the more creative productive yarning. This time as well as some cat protection blankets we also tackled some rather cute cat toy mice and fish.

Previous visits have been invaded by the black and white bundle of adorability, affectionately known as Mickey #NotMyCat, this time he brought his brother Ginger #NotMyCat2. He’s a lot more timid but did like to snooze comfortably and alone either on my bedroom windowsill or the woollen blanket on my bed, he’s also very vocal and announces his arrival. Both offered their approval of the crocheted toys, plus the rubs and snooze spots, and especially the edible treats.

My BFF is multi talented, not only did I get a much needed hair cut but a pedi soak too. Mickey gave the humming, vibrating bowl of water a glare, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d decided to dip a paw in but instead he gave it the usual cat statesmanship glare of indifference crossed with that ‘stupid humans’ expression they are so adept at.

After 187 consecutive days I escaped the confines of my dusty hovel and we ventured along the High Street, suitably covered in my new denim jacket (Christmas and birthday present from BFF) and wearing a natty face mask. A few errands were ticked off the list, social distancing guidelines and hand sanitising adhered to, the find trousers task one sadly was not successful.

This visits films included

• Spitfire
• The ugly dachshund
• Armstrong
• The absentminded professor
• Kinky boots
• Summer in February
• Hidden Figures
• Broken Flowers
• The Great Gatsby
• First Man
• The Parent Trap
• Flight
• Born On The Fourth Of July
• A summer place
• A single man
• First Wives Club
• Calamity Jane
• The Iron Maiden
• A map of the world
• Capote
• Pollyanna
• There’s No a Business Like Show business
• American Pastoral
• Walk The Line
• The Crown Seasons 1 & 2

Back to our respective routines, counting down and conjuring up, until we can get together again.

Oh the tasty treat pictured, it’s enchilasagne …. enchiladas but layered in a lasagne fashion, it is so delicious and no layer out weighs another. BFF made a second batch so there are more for me to enjoy. Did I say my wonderful BFF was multi talented???

 

Fair Winds Following Seas – Farewell Friend

I’m saying good bye to another old friend, a tangible piece of my life’s adventure.

The Jubilee Sailing Trust operates two tall ships that are designed to accommodate many forms of disability, not only things like deafness and sight impaired, but also stroke victims, amputees, wheelchair users and mental health sufferers. We are all involved within the watch rota to sail the ships and keep them shipshape. Across her thirty year history STS Lord Nelson known as “Nellie”, has circumnavigated the globe, chased icebergs, clipped the Bermuda Triangle, tamed the China Seas, she has raced as part of the tall ship fleets and been the floating ambassador and has touched hundreds of thousands of mixed ability lives for the better.

A family friend passed a brochure to me in the eighties and I had toyed with the idea of running away to sea, so when Nellie visited my home port I secretly took myself off, explored her and spoke to a volunteer crew member, over a mug of hot tea and freshly baked cake we chatted, mused, discussed and laughed. After that I made up my mind to throw myself fully into this once-in-a-lifetime-never-to-repeat adventure and booked a four-week passage from Southampton to Gran Canaria via Lisbon.

The experience was nerve wracking, exhilarating, daunting, engaging, challenging, educational, but filled with hilarity, congeniality, and above all else, equality. We were just a bunch of people sailing together. I enjoyed myself so much that I repeated the experience another two times on Nellie before my last voyage on the sister ship Tenacious. The atmosphere and camaraderie onboard is indescribable and so special. It’s where I learnt to tie a bona fide hangman’s noose, take down the shipping forecast, complete obs for the Met Office. I’ve hauled ropes, peeled potatoes, polished brass, coiled ropes, swabbed decks, scrubbed toilets, pulled ropes, brewed tea, repaired flags, and messed about with ropes. I’ve been man handled, hauled, shoved, shifted, and tied down, I’ve laughed until I cried and cried until I laughed; I’ve helmed, watched, hauled, radioed, taught navigation rhymes, learnt a bewildering language of terms and created a few specific to Nellie and many other such useful/less life skills. I even have a qualification, the Department of Transport Steering Competency (sailing) Certificate from time at the helm before the mast. I’ve made friends I still keep in touch with. I’ve had conversations and shared experiences (like being at the helm when we were struck by lightning, playing with dolphins, counting shooting stars). There are anecdotes galore, not all repeatable in polite company.

Recently the Trust has been forced to look hard at its future running. A promised significant donation from a business source failed to materialise resulting in the Trust nearly folding (we raised £1 million in a week to save it). Subsequently the decision has been sadly made to decommission Nellie.

I kept a detailed diary, my (dis)abled seapersons twig (as opposed to captains log) for two of my voyages are on my website www.amgroves.com It’s on my list to add the others.

It is unknown what her next adventure will be, but I wish her fair winds and following seas, as we salty dog types say; and another piece of my heart is broken and another tear will fall.

 

Fun No More (until April)

I’ve been wonderfully distracted for the past two glorious weeks, BFF has been to play, stay, I meant stay. … and this time it was greatly needed by us both. Finally after all the stress, anxiety and sorrow attached to so many happenings I could cry my heart out and get physical console. But all too soon, the suitcase is being zipped up and it’s that dreadful time to try and hold the stiff upper lip and say ttfn.

Pre arrival plans had been put in place, a few DVD’s were ordered, two mahoosive boxes had arrived with the neatest of handwriting upon them (more wool to add to the packed suitcase stash) and the dozen bottles of cherry cola added to the grocery order.

We may both be in our golden years, but you’re never too old for a PJ party, and that’s what we do. It’s not all indulgent fun, there were chores and errands done too, the dentist visit with deep deeeep clean and the annual hospital appointment with my neurologist (test results, blood pressure, heart rate all ‘normal’, never thought that word would be attached to me). I supervised while BFF cleared out, sorted, organised my kitchen cupboards (nothing last century lurking in the dark corners), general tidy up of the bathroom and lounge, the resort and reorganising my bedroom draws and I feel sorted, organised, prepared for carers and helpers, etc.

We’ve mooched up and down my High Street, been back and forth to Morrison’s for eats and treats, sat outside enjoying the sun and breeze, took an afternoon stroll along the esplanade and I, yes me, suggested a ice-cream (it was lush), we even went to the cinema to see Downton Abbey (rather good).

Mostly we snoozed, nattered, laughed, chatted, rested, and watched stuff

• Last Viceroy House
• Mad Men Season 6 and 7
• The Green Book
• Trumbo
• Edie
• A Cat Named Leonard
• Norma Rae
• Pursuit Of Happyness
• My Old Lady
• The Favourite
• Colette
• Don’t Eat The Daisies
• The Right Stuff
• Spotlight
• The Girl On The Train
• Billy Rose’s Jumbo
• Glass Bottom Boat
• Man With A Horn
• To Kill A Mockingbird

Of course the REAL prime reason for being together is a certain four legged furred charmer, known as Mickey, aka #NotMyCat, wandering in when he pleases, playing with his new toys, choosing one of the many seats to snooze upon, getting head rubs and chin scritches galore.

Three quarters of an hour ago we hugged, smiled, said “call you tomorrow”, and off she goes ……… just 199 days to go until we’re back together *fingers-crossed*

Thank you BFF for being everything I need and a heck of a lot more, words are not enough to convey all you do for me, help me, cajole me, entertain and help me.

 

The Great Greenwich Expedition

Drafty and drizzly began the day as we boarded our first train heading to the city passing stranded commuters held up by a traffic incident. Our second train a lot more comfortable, the disabled seating is in first class.  We’d just about left the county before we started on our sausage sandwiches.  Big Sis grabbed a copy of the complimentary local paper for its taxing cryptic crossword and once coffee had been purchased we taxed our brains (more like she exercised hers and I confused mine) only one clue not answered.  Being engrossed we hadn’t noticed the time, our train was speed restricted due to animals on the line earlier, instead of arriving at 10.20 it was 10.45. Hey ho.

Map in hand we three stepped forth to Tower Wharf to catch the river taxi to Greenwich. What an easy, slick, comfy operation! We were listening to a guide inform a group. That’s the downside of independent travel, you don’t discover the tidbits of anecdotes. Seamlessly we were there and before us was the vessel floating on her glass ocean. Prior to coming people had remarked how small the ship seemed, but not so to me. We found our way in and the lift down to the cafe beneath the keel. Hmm, first disappointment of the day, the selection was very limited and rather artisan not to mention a little over priced.  Still it was quite something sitting beneath the copper/zinc coated keel, it was fascinating seeing the shaping and riveting, the rudder was hardly very wide at all, and the prow seemed square not really shaped to cut through the water.  There was an impressive collection of figureheads, on show, such fun colourful characters.

Up a level and into the hold, reading various aspects like the crew numbers, miles travelled, how the tea crates were packed, life at the time and the importance of trade.  Think Tetris on a grand scale.  Did you know she transported more than tea?  The tween deck spacious and informative with artefacts from her glory days and the history of her owner.  Up on deck the livestock was housed, as well as the galley, crew bunks, carpenters workshop, bosun’s, officers and captains quarters, there is even a head! Peering in at the wooden crew bunks they looked a bit more spacious than the tallships I’ve sailed!  The deck was a lot wider and more spacious than expected although one or two of the ropes coiled and fastened to their pegs would not have passed our Bosun’s inspections.  Accessibility was very good, with only the quarter decks inaccessible and I didn’t notice the visual alternatives. It was pleasingly atmospheric being surrounded by the wood, teak and rope, the brain managed to recall names of various elements of rigging, sails and infrastructure. Woohoo!

We moved on to the Royal Maritime Museum, we perused the extensive collection of Nelson related items, the Jutland exhibition, the Royal Barge (the jubilee barge Gloriana was based on her) used my one of the George’s, which had another barge following along the Thames bringing the orchestra who played Handle’s Water Music on loop (18th century iPod, lol), the Miss Britain III speed record vessel. A section about the yachts in the America’s Cup race.  I must admit I find these types of museums detached and a little dis interesting.  I was surprised there was practically nothing about knots and rope work, nothing on how sailing works, how is harnesses the wind and makes it move, what a rudder does. 

We ambled our way back to the gastro pub practically beneath the Cutty’s stern, the Gipsy Moth for dinner, two thick slices of ham off the bone, two mighty fried eggs and triple cooked chips. Drool worthy and the comfortable ambience, pleasant staff and surroundings most welcome.  Before long we were back aboard the water taxi, zooming up river to Tower (at least our stops were pretty noticeable) and meandering back to the station.  Giggle of the day? The staff disabled loo at the train station, parked on the throne taking care of business I looked to my right for the signs of loo paper, none there, maybe behind me standing atop the cistern, nope. I glanced across my wheelchair beside the loo and there level with the wheel was the circular container. No chance of reaching it!

On the return journey Big Sis and I attempted the other cryptic crossword in the paper. How did we fair, erm, well, our words fitted the clues and the space but were wrong.

Collapsed into bed 10.45pm, ready to be flat and still.

 

The Cost Of Investing Hope

I am pondering….. contemplating….. wondering….. considering…..

You see, this all hinges on at what point do you resign yourself to the not possible and suffer the mild case of disappointment and despondency versus the okay lets seriously plan out and cost doing, to then have it fall at a hurdle that you cannot overcome but cause and suffer greater despondency, disappointment and depression; because the probability of this coming off is slim but if it does, well, its an experience to dine out on for eons.

This is going to sound vague but, there is a mild possibility of an event a few hundred miles away which if asked I would jump to attend.  It will involve train1, train2, mad dash in taxi across city, train3, taxi to overnight accommodation, taxi to and from event, taxi to train station, train 4, mad dash across city, train5, train6, get home, collapse from exhaustion.  It will involve a degree of hanging about and rather more standing about [well not for me obvs I’m in my chariot but pusher would be standing about].

Now, if I was an able bodied Joe, even if one that has to avoid steps and stairs, there would be no issue. I’d be on my way, even if it was relatively last minute.  But I’m a crip in a chariot, who needs a carer, and to book the one and only wheelchair seat on six specific trains, to find wheelchair accessible taxi’s and wheelchair accommodating accommodation, as well as clarify venue’s facilities for wheelies, etc, etc.

Still, it is all rather hypothetical at present, but this is what deteriorating conditions do to you. Something you did not ask for, do anything to get, slowly takes away all options, skills, desires, dreams and renders you sarcastic, bitter, annoyed, pitiful, selfish, and many other such words all covered with a mask of humour and a smile.

Going would cause strain, discomfort and heaps of anxiety but the gain of the experience would outweigh that, but the potential pain caused by the collapse of the dream would be reasonably significant and there would be no gain, no compensation no alternative to offset it.

This post is not about going or getting there, it is not about me and how I cope, it is about at what point do you just have to learn to live with the fact that some dreams will come with a nightmare attached. To avoid the nightmare let go of the dream.

I feel a “Violet Elizabeth” type tantrum in the air ………

 

Eyes to the Right!

Last Wednesday [yes, the day before the world went pouty mad] Big Sis, BIL and I got up early and headed to the train station, our destination, the big smoke, Londinium, the capitol … this years escapades involved a guided tour of the Houses of Parliament and a river cruise, plus dining at our now favourite place The Drift at Heron Tower.

We arrived without hitch or hold up and taxied to the Lord Entrance, past the growing floral tributes to the Late Jo Cox MP laid out on Parliament Square.  Through the ‘airport style security’ and into the hallowed grounds.  We had planned a light luncheon in the Jubilee Cafe and to get the bargain priced guide book from the shop (£5, thoroughly recommend) before perusing Westminster Hall in readiness for the tour to begin.

If you ever get the chance, grab it, I organised my tour through my MP’s office which meant it was free, but even at the ticket price of £25.50 is better value than some venues.  Our guide Phillip made the walk around engaging, enthralling and amusing, bringing in all his tourees to be seen as a person of history – I was a new MP experiencing first State Opening and no hope of heck getting into House of Lords to hear the Queens Speech and how I go about getting myself seen and heard [you have to put your prayer card in the holder at the seat you choose on the benches before morning prayers], the significance of ornament .  You learn of the assassination of Spencer Pervecal in 1815 at the hand of John Bellingham … which bits are victorian fake gold and which bits are stolen, well purloined, Welsh Gold …. the blue carpet and why the royals only tread in specific areas … the significance in the position of the Mace … how to become  Lord/Lady and sit at cross benches … anecdotes such as Henry VIII aged 9 rode his horse into Westminster Hall; the place where Thomas Moore [Man For All Seasons] was tried, where Charles I was tried by Cromwell … how the Palace was re-jiggered following the bombing in WWII that struck the Commons …. when it became a permanent home to Parliament [prior to this it followed the Monarch on progress or from Palace to Palace] … the politics of position and the Parliamentary Post Office …. we saw copies of Hansards and how it is produced … the Parliamentary voting system and how it is more foolproof than any paper or electronic system.

It had not clocked with me that as Parliament was in recess for the continued referendum campaigning, that we would be able to go into the Commons and Lords, bonus for us! After 90 minutes and utter entertainment, we wanted to go round again. I imagine you could do so with different guides and discover something different each time.

We sauntered across Westminster Bridge and to the London Eye, the embarkation point for our 40-minute trip and were boarded quickly. The ropes let go and the engines revved we sailed down to Tower Bridge, our commentator trying his hardest to name and fact various bridges and buildings.  It was over all too quickly, and we taxied back to Heron Tower for some super fabulous gorgeous tasty food {I have been lusting for their scotch egg on piccalilli since last year!

scotch egg with black pudding on piccalilli

Home and a bed by 11pm ….. 17 hours after leaving it, educated, entertained and exhausted.

Now to read the guide boo to remember all the things I forgot to mention here!

 

p.s.  Big Sis searched, she looked, she scrutinised but she didn’t find an upside down Union Flag *phew* LOL