Goodness, three months into the
year and not one blog made… Guess that puts me a bit behind. Well, Christmas has well and truly gone and I
haven't posted anything.
I was very lucky to have Mum,
Dad and Kathryn around for almost three weeks. And when I say lucky, I
mean lucky. Once again the weather in the UK heaped havoc on travel
plans. It seems quite appropriate that my last blog details my own
difficulties travelling in the snow, as this blog will detail my parents
difficulties.
After the major snowfall at the beginning of December, Mum and Dad were concerned that it would cause problems to their arrival. I assured them this kind of snow was very unusual, especially this early in the year and was very unlikely to be repeated. Various discussions ensued with a similar theme, Mum being concerned, me being relaxed: did we need chains for the hire car, what would happen to Heathrow airport, etc, etc.
Well, it turns out my Mum's concerns were warranted. Mum and Kathryn were due to arrive on Saturday 20 December. We had had a little bit of snow in the days before, but nothing major. Leading up to the Saturday, they knew there was going to be a big snowfall, but Heathrow was prepared, it wasn't going to be too bad in London, it never is. “Relax Mum, it will be fine.”
After the major snowfall at the beginning of December, Mum and Dad were concerned that it would cause problems to their arrival. I assured them this kind of snow was very unusual, especially this early in the year and was very unlikely to be repeated. Various discussions ensued with a similar theme, Mum being concerned, me being relaxed: did we need chains for the hire car, what would happen to Heathrow airport, etc, etc.
Well, it turns out my Mum's concerns were warranted. Mum and Kathryn were due to arrive on Saturday 20 December. We had had a little bit of snow in the days before, but nothing major. Leading up to the Saturday, they knew there was going to be a big snowfall, but Heathrow was prepared, it wasn't going to be too bad in London, it never is. “Relax Mum, it will be fine.”
On Friday Mum and Kathryn departed
Hong Kong, bound for London. Heathrow had been shut, but was due to open
Saturday. “There would be no problem”, I
again repeated. I went to bed on Friday night confident I would wake to
find Mum and Kathryn's flight on time to land at Heathrow on Saturday morning.
Saturday morning I awoke. The first thing I did was open up my laptop and go to the Heathrow website. The airport had been shut and would not be open for flights for the rest of the day. Not good. Mum and Kathryn were in the air with nowhere to land. Next step, look at the Air NZ website, which was saying they were still going to land on time at Heathrow, not helpful information. So I tried phoning Air NZ. After two phone calls, which resulted in me being on hold for 15 minutes at a time, I gave up. I tried tweeting Air NZ, a true sign of desperation. No reply.
Saturday morning I awoke. The first thing I did was open up my laptop and go to the Heathrow website. The airport had been shut and would not be open for flights for the rest of the day. Not good. Mum and Kathryn were in the air with nowhere to land. Next step, look at the Air NZ website, which was saying they were still going to land on time at Heathrow, not helpful information. So I tried phoning Air NZ. After two phone calls, which resulted in me being on hold for 15 minutes at a time, I gave up. I tried tweeting Air NZ, a true sign of desperation. No reply.
Finally, Dad landed at LA,
halfway through his own journey to London. I asked him to speak to the staff
at the airport. The LA staff provided me with this insightful information
“Air NZ were trying to find an airport for the plane to land at”. Then, finally, Air NZ realised a statement
saying the flight would be landing at Glasgow Prestwick Airport, a casual
400-odd miles from London Heathrow.
Oh dear lord. My poor Mother and sister had to endure a 7-hour journey from Glasgow to London. And how could Glasgow be open, but Heathrow closed? What was the world coming too?!?
Anyway, turns out that it was another 12-hours from the time Mum and Kathryn landed till they arrived at London Heathrow. Mum swears she'll never fly to Europe again.
Luckily, Dad had a bit more luck. Other than being stuck on the tarmac for an hour or so, his journey was fairly trouble-free. When he finally made it through, customs to be greeted by my Mother (I was off taking Kathryn to the train station), Dad opened his mouth to grumble about having to wait on the tarmac for so long. Before a single syllable could be uttered, Mum told him not to say a word, he was in no position to complain. Dad quite sensibly obeyed.
I would like to say this was the only snow induced drama during the holiday, but I would be lying. The plan had always been to hire a car in London and drive to Ebrington, where the house we would be staying in over Christmas was located. In the lead up to Mum and Dad's arrival they had been concerned about the car I had hired and if it would be appropriate should there be snow on the ground. I had told them not to worry, there wouldn't be snow, we would be fine, etc, etc. Anyway, no need to tell you, I was wrong, again.
Oh dear lord. My poor Mother and sister had to endure a 7-hour journey from Glasgow to London. And how could Glasgow be open, but Heathrow closed? What was the world coming too?!?
Anyway, turns out that it was another 12-hours from the time Mum and Kathryn landed till they arrived at London Heathrow. Mum swears she'll never fly to Europe again.
Luckily, Dad had a bit more luck. Other than being stuck on the tarmac for an hour or so, his journey was fairly trouble-free. When he finally made it through, customs to be greeted by my Mother (I was off taking Kathryn to the train station), Dad opened his mouth to grumble about having to wait on the tarmac for so long. Before a single syllable could be uttered, Mum told him not to say a word, he was in no position to complain. Dad quite sensibly obeyed.
I would like to say this was the only snow induced drama during the holiday, but I would be lying. The plan had always been to hire a car in London and drive to Ebrington, where the house we would be staying in over Christmas was located. In the lead up to Mum and Dad's arrival they had been concerned about the car I had hired and if it would be appropriate should there be snow on the ground. I had told them not to worry, there wouldn't be snow, we would be fine, etc, etc. Anyway, no need to tell you, I was wrong, again.
So we made some calls and
upgraded our car to a Station Wagon. Unfortunately they didn't have any 4
x 4 cars, but we thought a Station Wagon would be a good compromise.
We set off from Stansted Airport, from where we hired our car. The roads weren't great. There was snow, but we made it to our first stop, Chaddsley Corbett, with relative ease. The next day we set off early, hoping to arrive by around 11am. Once again, the roads weren't great, but drivable. We stopped for some groceries on the way and then headed for Ebrington. We had a SatNav, which Dad has brought over with him, but didn't seem to be entirely competent using. Mum decided she wanted to go via Chipping Campden and accordingly instructed the SatNav.
I think we all knew as we set off down this particular backroad in the rural Cotswold's that we had made a dire mistake. When we got about 300m from the top of the road and the car became stuck in the snow, I think we all knew that we were in trouble. When the wife of one of the local landed elite got out and started barking instructions at us, we all knew it was going to be a long day.
The car was stuck - the car was stuck one and a quarter miles from our final destination. The car stayed one and a quarter miles from our final destination for three-days straight. Ah yes, the joys of SatNav!
We set off from Stansted Airport, from where we hired our car. The roads weren't great. There was snow, but we made it to our first stop, Chaddsley Corbett, with relative ease. The next day we set off early, hoping to arrive by around 11am. Once again, the roads weren't great, but drivable. We stopped for some groceries on the way and then headed for Ebrington. We had a SatNav, which Dad has brought over with him, but didn't seem to be entirely competent using. Mum decided she wanted to go via Chipping Campden and accordingly instructed the SatNav.
I think we all knew as we set off down this particular backroad in the rural Cotswold's that we had made a dire mistake. When we got about 300m from the top of the road and the car became stuck in the snow, I think we all knew that we were in trouble. When the wife of one of the local landed elite got out and started barking instructions at us, we all knew it was going to be a long day.
The car was stuck - the car was stuck one and a quarter miles from our final destination. The car stayed one and a quarter miles from our final destination for three-days straight. Ah yes, the joys of SatNav!
 |
| The car after being deserted for three days |
All in all it wasn't so
bad. The following day, car-less and also Christmas meat-less, we put on
the woolies and backpacks and hiked the five-mile round trip to Chipping
Campden to collect the ham and duck that had, luckily, been pre-ordered from
the local butcher. We had purchased a few things the day before on our way to
Ebrington, but not very much. We were now faced with a rationed
Christmas: we could only have what we could carry. Compromises were made,
I was willing to forgo a 3rd bottle of wine for a large box of chocolates;
orange juice could serve both as beverage and glaze for the ham; and so on and
so on.
All in all, it was a lovely week in Ebrington, despite my worst fears we didn't run out of food and the snow, whilst problematic at times, did add to the atmosphere. And, we were finally able to free the car.
All in all, it was a lovely week in Ebrington, despite my worst fears we didn't run out of food and the snow, whilst problematic at times, did add to the atmosphere. And, we were finally able to free the car.
New Years was spent in an altogether
different venue, Sicily - Erice to be an exact. Which is quite aptly
described by lonely planet as:
One of Italy’s most spectacular hill towns, Erice sits on the legendary Mt Eryx (750m); on a clear day, you can see Cape Bon in Tunisia. Wander the medieval tangle of streets interspersed by churches, forts and tiny cobbled piazzas.
Erice was wonderful. It is exactly as Lonely Planet describes. The streets are barely wide enough to drive a car through, yet the Italian somehow manage to do it… The food was wonderful. I ate more pasta, ham, cannoli and olives than one really needs to in a week long period. I fell in love with this delicate little sweet pastry called 'genovese'.
Somehow Dad managed to sleep through New Year’s Eve, though I'm not sure how, as we had an entire professional fireworks display set-off from the main town square, which was all of a couple of hundred metres away from our house. In fact, watching the display was both enjoyable and frightening. Huge fireworks were released from the balcony of a two-storey building that was on the edge of the town square. The fact that the person lighting these fireworks still has all his facial features slightly defies belief. The town hall was offering a glass of champagne to all those who were there and a jazz band kept the mood cheery until the clock struck midnight.
One of Italy’s most spectacular hill towns, Erice sits on the legendary Mt Eryx (750m); on a clear day, you can see Cape Bon in Tunisia. Wander the medieval tangle of streets interspersed by churches, forts and tiny cobbled piazzas.
Erice was wonderful. It is exactly as Lonely Planet describes. The streets are barely wide enough to drive a car through, yet the Italian somehow manage to do it… The food was wonderful. I ate more pasta, ham, cannoli and olives than one really needs to in a week long period. I fell in love with this delicate little sweet pastry called 'genovese'.
Somehow Dad managed to sleep through New Year’s Eve, though I'm not sure how, as we had an entire professional fireworks display set-off from the main town square, which was all of a couple of hundred metres away from our house. In fact, watching the display was both enjoyable and frightening. Huge fireworks were released from the balcony of a two-storey building that was on the edge of the town square. The fact that the person lighting these fireworks still has all his facial features slightly defies belief. The town hall was offering a glass of champagne to all those who were there and a jazz band kept the mood cheery until the clock struck midnight.
We flew on to Bruges, which can
be described in two words: cold and beautiful. It is such a beautiful
fairy tale town, just like the movie, In Bruges, suggests. The food was
perfect: heavy, stodgy and hot, all served with the most wonderful bar.
Our last night was spent eating in a gastropub of the Belgian variety, serving
more than 400-beers. So what does Mum ask for? A glass of
wine. No need to say I told her that she should reconsider. Other
than returning with a substantial amount of gained weight, I also returned with
around 2kg of Belgian chocolates. How
can you say no?
We returned to London for a few
days where Kathryn and Steve joined us. We tried out the new Boris bikes,
which I can report are great fun, and we went to Priscilla. It's almost
become a compulsory stop for all visiting guests, and even though it was my third
time to attend, I loved every minute!
Then the time came for Mum and
Dad to leave, again. And once again I didn't want to see them go.
As much as I love my bed and my bedroom without a mattress on the floor, it's
an inconvenience I will endure anytime for them!
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