That There Abroad Place

“Learning to fly”

Our last foreign holiday was in March 2020, just as the world would change dramatically. Until now we’d enjoyed our breaks to Cornwall and Yorkshire, satisfied to not have to go through the hassle that foreign travel seemed to entail. However, as much as we enjoy taking Nev away with us on holiday we were missing some guaranteed sun on our backs, fronts and all bits in between for that matter. So, with a deal of trepidation I booked an 8 night break back to the Barcelo Corralejo Bay Hotel on Fuerteventura, the same hotel we stayed in back in March 2020. As the holiday drew closer there were more and more stories of problems with EasyJet flights being cancelled at short notice, along with industrial action being taken by baggage handlers and other airport strikes and delays. In the last couple of years I’ve become a bit of a worrier, far more than I used to be pre-pandemic.

The Sunday of our flight arrived and I was a bit of a nervous wreck, however the trip to the Long Stay car park, South Terminal, Gatwick was without incident, the bus dropped us at the terminal and the EasyJet staff agreed to open the bag drop early for us. So far, so good. Next up was the challenge of bag check at security. The queue wasn’t bad at all and we breezed through, until my bag was diverted for a hand check. No problem I thought, this always happens as I carry one set of meds in my hand luggage as well as one in my hold luggage, I usually get stopped. This time it wasn’t my bag of meds, it was the large bottle of sun cream that I’d totally forgotten about. The Officer smiled and said I wasn’t the first of the day, and wouldn’t be the last either.

Next stop, somewhere for lunch. It seemed that the number of food outlets had reduced since our last visit. We managed to find a couple of seats in a restaurant, ordered our food and a much needed bottle of wine. Things were going well.

Then the things weren't going as well. 

Our flight was due to take off at 3.10pm, the gate was opened on time, we went through the final passport and boarding pass check, took our seats and waited to board. By 3pm it was obvious we wouldn’t be taking off on time. An announcement was made saying that the incoming flight still had customers who needed assistance on board as no one had turned up to help them off the plane. There was a murmur amongst the waiting customers, a few who had possibly had a couple of drinks too many were a bit more vocal. Eventually, an hour late, we boarded and settled down for a much needed G ‘n T. The pilot had other ideas. A major tropical storm had hit the Canaries, flights in and out were being delayed, diverted and cancelled. We’d been on the tarmac for at least another hour, there was a possibility that we’d be cancelled too. More groans from the passengers and some loud vocal complaints from a wide mouthed drunk tree frog and her son. Just after 5pm, two hours late, we pushed back from the stand, made our way to the runway and took off. Carol is a nervous flyer, we always hold hands at take off and landing, it usually takes a few days for the scars on my hand to disappear. The flight was pretty uneventful, I stick my earphones in, play tunes, read my Kindle and drink a G ‘n T. Because we were so late taking off it meant we’d be landing in the dark, something we’ve not done for a long time. There was a certain amount of turbulence as we approached the island, Carol’s grip got tighter and tighter as we descended through the pitch black night. Eventually the lights of the Island appeared, the wheels made contact and we taxied to the terminal. The usual format at Fuerteventura airport is slick, but for some reason we were kept at the stand for over 20 minutes. People had stood up expecting disembarkation only to be told over the PA to sit back down. Three Guardia Civil, two men and one women boarded the plane, armed with side arms, made their way to the Wide Mouthed Tree Frog and her son. An exchange took place before they were marched down the plane, handcuffed. The son was dressed entirely in black, complete with a hoodie, bear in mind it was 25 degrees when we landed. His mother was complaining loudly that the police were hurting her son. It transpired that they had both been very abusive to the flight crew, demanding drinks and swearing when they were refused. After they’d been escorted off the plane we were allowed to disembark and make our way to passport control. I was expecting a long wait, but we were through in 10 minutes. Mother and Son were complaining loudly as to the way they’d been treated to the Spanish customers offices, who didn’t seem to give a toss 😊 

We’d  pre-booked transport from the airport to the hotel, and at the last minute I’d agreed to share with a party who were on the same flight. What I didn’t know was that they were Special Assistance customers who’d be last off the flight. After waiting 40 minutes the Teletubbies arrived and complained all the way to the resort. Luckily our driver recognised that I was becoming a tad fractious so diverted to our hotel first. We checked in with no problems, made our way to our room at gone 11pm, had a tapas dinner of cheese and onion crisps, BBQ Hula Hoops and a bottle of chilled cava supplied by the hotel. We went to sleep, tomorrow would be another day.

The Tropical Storm was still having an effect on the island the next day, wind and showers. We took it easy, bought the essentials, a bottle of brandy, a bottle of rioja, a box of Pringles and some M & M’s. We’d pushed the boat out a bit and had booked a suite. Massive bedroom, I swear the bed had two postcodes, lovely living room and an outside hot tub which would get a lot of use. Our first day was largely spent cooking ourselves in the hot tub.

We’d hired bikes from the hotel so that we could cycle out to the stone circles on Flag beach, much quieter and private than the main town beaches. It took about 20 minutes to cycle out, including one fairly large uphill gradient, I was really proud that Carol didn’t need to stop once. We fell into our usual routine. A few hours on the beach in the morning, cycle back to the hotel. Walk into town to choose our lunch venue. Back to the hotel where Carol would go to the Spa, I tried one day, but freaked at my inability to breath. Instead of the Spa I’d take the bike and cycle out to the headland and watch the waves crashing against the rocks. I’d then cycle back to the port area of the town, prop my bike up and have a beer at Afrikas.

I first met Afrika probably five or six years ago. The habit of the afternoon cycle and then a beer became one hard to break. During our 2020 visit Afrika and I began to chat, her English is slightly better than my Spanish, but only just, however we communicated. As a Lary the bit of plastic sticking out of my throat makes me fairly recognisable, Afrika ignored that and fed me honey rum and beer. On Tuesday, once the storm had passed I did the cycle ride to the headland. Turned around, got off the bike at her beer shack and said “Hola Afrika, Buenos Dias?” She looked up, took a second look, smiled and came round to give me a big hug, for a slight woman she gives a great squeeze. Between haltering English and Spanish we managed to tell each other how great it was to see each other again. I’ll admit there were tears in my eyes, I was so pleased that she’d survived. During the week I brought Carol down a couple of times to meet Afrika too, on our final day we both got hugs. Afrika has lived a life, she looks older, but then again don’t we all.

The other regular haunt during our previous stays were Oscars Tapas Bar and Algeria Cocktail Bar. The owner of Algeria took a second take when we sat down for the first time this holiday, looked at me and said “Old Fashioned?” my drink of choice. The same happened at Oscar’s, the bit of plastic has it’s benefits.

Someone on the We Love Corralejo FB page commented that there’s more to holidays than eating, I quite agree, but he missed my point entirely. I eat food in small portions due to the effects of throat cancer, but when I do eat I want it to be both tasty and of quality.

Whilst on the subject of throat cancer, I’d posted on the UK Lary FB page that I’d be flying for the first time in a while. After a few conversations it transpired that we’d be in the same resort as a fellow Lary, at the same time, so we agreed to meet up with Phil and his partner Sharon one afternoon. Over the last five years of being a Lary I’ve met a few others. There used to be a group who met at Royal Berkshire Hospital once a month, I went a few times but gave up in the end. Last year up in Leeds I met Tanja for a coffee and chit chat, meeting Phil would be similar. Immediate connection. Phil is only 12 months in, but other than the bit of plastic looks like the picture of health, hardly any visible scaring at all. A couple of hours swapping stories, concerns, small wins followed. Phil and Sharon were on the Island for 6 weeks, we were jealous. 

The days and nights went by far too quickly, soon enough it was time to pack our bags for the flight back home. A few wider observations of our trip.

·       Restaurants and bars are probably 1/3^rd understaffed, and that is just front of house. If your meal is a bit slow then just accept it, have another wine. If you’re the owner of the restaurant don’t shout and scream at your staff, it makes you look like a total A Hole.

·       The sun shines, vitamin D is a wonderful cure for being a stressed out tw*t.

·       Flights are a lottery.

·       Don’t get pissed on your flight, you may be on the next one home.

·       When Lary’s collide 2,500 miles from home it’s likely that beer will be downed.

·       Holding hands is good for the soul.

·       Lying in a hot tub, with a glass of wine, and Mrs C,  looking up at planets is good fun.

·       If someone looks at you because you’re talking via a Lary just smile.

·       Try and remember which car park you’d parked in!

·       A lot of business’s survived, a lot didn’t.

·       We wish the new start up’s the best of luck.

·       Corralejo has something to offer for most people. The “Strip”, the Old Town, don’t judge others on their choices, it’s their holiday, not yours.

The journey home wasn’t quite as challenging as the flight out. We queued for 90 minutes to get through bag drop and security at the airport, which left us little time to get any food or coffee airside We boarded, took off and landed on time. A 40 minute wait for the bags to come through wasn’t what we wanted. The coach trip to the Long Term car park was interesting. We’d landed at the North Terminal, not the South!!!! I had a bit of a meltdown when I sussed out my mistake. It took over an hour to transfer from the North car park to the South one. By the time we reached the car I was shaking. But, and it’s a BIG BUT, we got to the car, got home, had a takeaway, woke up the next morning.

Despite the bollox of the flights, the holiday was worth it. Great food, lovely weather, lots of exercise and most all, the best ever company I could wish for. Carol is a NHS Nurse, throughout the pandemic she worked in Respiratory, dealing not always directly with COVID patients due to my perceived chances of infection. She deserved this "Sun all over holiday" more than anyone I know, it was a FAB few days. 

 

Now the obligatory boring Cancer stuff, after all that’s how this blog started in January 2016. A few weeks ago I had an MRI to ascertain if my throat is contracting again, I’m happy to tell my Consultant that it is as I’m struggling to get through a third of the food that I need to. Back in July I was 92kg, I’m now down to 87kg and falling. The stretch will have an immediate positive effect of meaning I can swallow food properly. I hate wasting food, or having people seeing me struggle to eat. I’m seeing my Consultant on 13^th October, which happens to be my 60^th birthday, I’ll be pleading to have the stretch done prior to Christmas. Other than that things are pretty good. My voice is as strong as it’s been for a long time. I still need “Dad Naps” but that’s probably my age. I had applied to be a contestant on MasterChef but failed at the interview hurdle, so it looks like my days as a media tart are well and truly over.  

 

As always, thanks for reading.

To be continued……

#Shoulder2Shoulder

 

 

“You’re entirely bonkers, but I’ll tell you a secret, all the best people are.”

 

Wow, the last blog post I published was in September 2021 just after Carol and I had returned from a short break in Cornwall with the medium sized ginger dog. Blogspot sent me a message earlier this month advising that unless I posted some new content that the blog would be deleted. After over 250,000 words it seemed a shame to lose all that writing.

Last month we went back to our beloved Cornwall and had a great few days of walking on the beaches and eating our bodyweight in seafood, either in local restaurants or from the fishmonger in Wadebridge. We were incredibly lucky with the weather for late March, no rain at all and generally clear blue skies. A combination of an on shore wind and spring tides meant the seas were big, some of the best waves I’ve seen for ages, I couldn’t resist taking a few (hundred) photos whilst I had the chance.

 Neville was in doggy heaven, running up and down the beaches, digging holes in the sand, generally being a dog.

We were surprised just how deserted the beaches were, often it would just be the three of us with possible two or three other couples spread over the vast expanse of sands.   Whilst in Cornwall Mrs C. pointed out the house prices, which if you were frugal, weren’t that bad and perhaps we should just pack our bags and up sticks. Wadebridge has a rugby club, a decent butchers and a first class fishmongers, what more could we ask for? We met up with Nev’s big brother Sidney which we were down. His Assistants live on the edge of Wadebridge so we asked for a “Warts ‘n all” low down on the town. Other than it’s busy in the summer months there were very few warts. Watch this space, I suspect by this time in 2023 we’ll have left Berkshire for good. We’re thinking of a one bed cottage so as to stop the influx of visitors, family and friends.

Life is all a little bit strange for me at the moment. It’s unlikely I’ll get another full time job, I still get very tired and often have a “Dad Nap” in the afternoon, usually being cuddled by Nev whilst some film plays on Netflix. I think it’s a combination of being an old git, the Lary surgery, RT and Chemo creating the perfect storm that makes me so tired.

Monday to Thursday are pretty regimented for the two of us (Carol is at work). We’ll have a morning walk in the park, trying to avoid young and bouncy dogs who Nev won’t get on with. I get really pissed off when other dog walkers say “But he / she is friendly and just wants to play”… in which case don’t let your dog blindside mine and bounce on him, if you do don’t be surprised if Nev gets reactive. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being bounced by strangers in the park.

After our park walk we’ll normally (every weekday) make our way up to Mad Hatters Coffee shop in the village. I’ve written about Mad Hatters before, but they really do deserve their own post on my blog. During the dark days of 2020 / 21 Lockdowns we’d often walk past the shop and Nev would pull towards the door hoping for ear ruffles, tummy tickles and most importantly dog treats. He’d look up at me when the shutters were pulled down as if to say “What’s going on?”

Mad Hatters is a community hub, if your name begins with an “L” you’ve a good chance of working there, Lisa, Lou, Lizzy, Lianne. Add in Aston, Julie, Chole, Amber and Owner Fiona and you’ve got a dream team. (I may have missed some staff off). In the mornings often I’ll see Sonia who is even more of a regular than I am. She helps out by clearing up tables if the staff are pushed. I reckon Sonia is one of the good ones. She’s happy to speak to anyone and everyone. Sonia knew I’m into my photography and kindly passed on a book of photographs from Tilehurst in the early 1900’s, it was a fascinating read once I’d prised it away from Carol. There’s Tom, who arrives in an electric wheelchair, he’d love for Nev to be his mate, but I think Nev is a bit frightened of the chair. If we arrive after 9’ish we’ll often bump into a mother and daughter combo who have fallen in love with the medium sized ginger one. Nev won the Pride of Reading photographic competition back in December, well actually I won the competition, Nev was the subject. The ladies asked for a copy of Nev’s pic which I was happy to provide.

 They always ask if they can give Nev a treat from the treat jar, he knows the ladies and is happy to sit and look pathetic, knowing he’ll get a treat. There are a couple of chaps who come in most days when we’re there, a case of “Hello, how’s it going?” A couple who bring their dog in, he and Nev didn’t originally get on, but now they tolerate each other. A friend from a local rugby club drops in now and then with her baby son. One of Carol’s ex colleagues is sometimes there. The Dr. who put me on the 14 Day pathway back in December 2015 shows up once a month or so with his new dog, about the only time I see my GP face to face these days – more to follow later in this post.

Earlier this week we had a normal day for Nev and I. We arrived at Mad Hatters after our park walk about 9.15am, I had a small cappuccino, Nev had a couple of biscuits, we made our way home. In the afternoon we went back for a second visit, Nev had a couple of biscuits and I had a small cappuccino. I tend to surf my phone and possibly earwig a bit on other conversations, today was no different. There was a disabled chap who was sitting near to us, I’d seen him in before. The staff made a point of making sure he was ok and had everything he wanted. The couple with the small rescue dog were also in. Nev was happy to sit at my feet ignoring all that was going on and concentrating on the two biscuits that I’d got for him. Opposite were two ladies who were probably in their early 70’s. They’d commented on how handsome Neville was looking (they may have said how scruffy, but Nev is taking editor rites on this post and he insists they said handsome). I’ll be 60 later on this year, after the last few years fun ‘n games with cancer I’m beginning to feel my age and think about my mortality. I was half listening to the two ladies, after a while it became obvious that they were both fairly recent widows. They were discussing the challenges of cooking for one, both agreed that cooking enough for two and eating the remainder the next day was the way to go. Then they described how they both slept on either side of the bed on alternative nights so as not to create a dip in the bed. One asked the other if she’d like another coffee or did she have to get back home. The other lady said “I’ve nothing at home and the people here are so nice, let’s have another coffee” I spend a fair amount of time by myself with Nev whilst Carol is away at work. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be by yourself in your later years, I do however know that a place like Mad Hatters would be a godsend. You could walk in, sit down and feel like part of the family. Tilehurst village now has three coffee shops all within a fairly close proximity of each other. There was some discussion on a local Facebook page when a Costa opened up as to whether Mad Hatters would be able to survive. I’m pleased to say that it would seem that all three shops are doing ok. Perhaps catering for different demographics is the key to success.

I originally started this blog back in January 2016 as an easy way of keeping family and friends updated as what was happening regarding the cancer treatment I was facing. Often it’s easier to write things down than to say them face to face for me. At the moment health wise things seem ok. I’m still having my speech valve changed every 8 to 10 weeks by the brilliant SALT team at RBH. The dark days of COVID where I had to wait over 6 weeks for a leaking valve to be replaced are thankfully over, that really was a miserable time for me. My GP surgery are however a totally different kettle of fish. I’ve been unable to see, face to face, a GP since prior to COVID. It’s tough enough trying to get a telephone consultation without giving the Receptionist your life history. In the past couple of months I’ve been having blood tests for a potential thyroid issue, not uncommon for Lary’s I’ve been told. The GP who I’ve had the misfortune to deal with has been frankly awful. The first time she called she constantly spoke over me and even hung up on me whilst I was trying to speak. Talking over / anticipating / ignoring a Lary are possibly the worst things a person can do. It’s an effort to make a voice, to have a healthcare professional do the exact things that make me so low is unacceptable. The second time she called she did exactly the same thing to me, constantly interrupting me, talking over me or just ignoring what I was saying. I LET RIP AT HER. I ranted for at least a couple of minutes, every time she tried to “But” I suggested, without swearing, that she just listened to me. To be fair to her at the end of my rant she did apologise, whether she meant it, or will act upon my words remains to be seen. I’m aware that the pressure on the NHS is immense, I see it first hand each day when Carol comes home from work, however common courtesy takes no time at all. I’m currently building up a file to make a formal complaint to the Practise Manager, not just for the way I’ve been treated of late, but also for the not signing off my monthly prescriptions in a timely manner, again a task that takes no time at all, and improves the quality of my life.

My last blog in September 2021 mentioned that league rugby was back. Rams were starting their second season in the dizzy heights of National League 1. At the time of writing it looks like we’ll finish up in the top third of the league. The club is really going from strength to strength, on and off the field. The new stand has proven to be a great hit with the supporters at home matches. The new floodlights are “TV Broadcast” standard and mean we can happily host evening matches or still kick off at 3pm in the winter months. Whilst being great for the TV they still make it a challenge for us poor still photographers. There’s an old saying that a photographer is never happy with the light, yep 😊 Too dark, too bright, too many shadows, not enough contrast, you name it, we’ll complain about it.

I’m pleased to say that Max has continued to play rugby now that he’s living down in Portsmouth, he plays for a side called Southsea Nomads who I went to watch a few weeks back. His age group at Rams was one of the largest at the time, as far as I’m aware from those 30+ players Max is one of only three who are still playing. Both of the kids are now teaching. Anna is well set in her life up in Leeds with Tom, she’s even beginning to develop a bit of a Yorkshire accent.

This is Oscar from Is It Contagious?   

He’s the handsome one. Oscar and his family joined me at OBR for a Rams match against Birmingham and Mosely, Rams losing out by a single point in a highly entertaining match. Oscar set up a Bucket List earlier this year after learning that his cancer wasn’t curable. His family were overwhelmed by the number of offers which flooded in for him. His initial list was of 10 things he wished to do, number 9 on the list was to watch a Rams match. I was so pleased to be able to help grant that wish. I was an honour to meet Oscar and his family for the first time after corresponding for perhaps three years.

Finally for this short blog I need to pay tribute to the Current Mrs C. We first met in April 1981 when I was on Hunter Ward of the RBH having had my left kneecap removed following a motorbike accident. Carol was still a student nurse at the time. She came onto the ward, slipped on some fluid that had been spilt on the floor, went arse over tit displaying a rather shapely pair of stocking clad legs, it was lust at first sight. Carol qualified well as a nurse and specialised in sleep and respiratory illness’. For the last 34 years she’s been working in the Respiratory Medicine Dept. at Royal Berkshire Hospital. On 7^th April 2022 she worked her final shift. She’ll be starting a new role at West Berkshire Hospital after a weekend of eating and drinking. This will almost certainly be her final role for the NHS before hanging up her uniform for good, hopefully in the next 12 months, then it’s “Cornwall Baby”. I’ve been through a whole bunch of medical shoite over the past six years or so, without the support, love, care and occasional kick up the backside from Carol it’s unlikely I’d still be here.

That’s about it for now, no idea when or indeed if I’ll blog again.

As always, thanks for reading. Please support your local retailer, be it a coffee shop, a butcher, a fishmonger, greengrocer etc.

#Shoulder2Shoulder