Blog54 c...I Got There...
I arrived safely in Ireland and was relieved to see that
the airport was no different to how I remembered it from a few years ago: it's a short route from disembarking, across the paved flight path, yes really trucks and all sorts driving past; easy
to find the exit you just follow the crowd; so clutching my hand luggage I walked calmly and slowly [the
pain aggravated by sitting still…there’s no time to get up or space to walk
around on the plane…hell there isn’t even time to read the emergency leaflets, get a cup of
tea or go to the loo, the journey is that short!]
Once I stepped out through the door...ah I smell that fresh Irish air and even though I have never lived in Ireland I always have that sense of; "I'm home!"
Once I stepped out through the door...ah I smell that fresh Irish air and even though I have never lived in Ireland I always have that sense of; "I'm home!"
I was whisked away by my aunt in a fabulously comfortable car with the air conditioning on, a pillow for my back and lots of family updates and giggles, [she knows me so well!!] I was already feeling that I had done the best thing by 'coming over' as we say.Once at her house I was comforted with tea, buns [cakes
with lots of cream and icing to you and I] and sat on my aunt’s balcony
overlooking the sea…ahh the very part of the sea that my sister and I had sailed along all those years ago on 'That' boat journey from Liverpool…probably about 35 years ago you know and
we’d spent all night sitting up in the bar [couldn’t afford a cabin] playing
cards with a group of young Irish lads on the way home for a break. My sister
kept winning at cards…so we didn’t have to pay for any drinks and the supper
was on the lads…then it was on the deck; I was the worst sea traveller you’d
ever want as a companion and I 'lost' all the drinks and the supper over
board…just as the sun was beginning to rise and all the other ferry passengers were thinking of
breakfast.
So that evening my aunt took me across to her neighbour. A wonderful
man who sat and listened to my woes and he understood the pain: he put his
finger exactly where the pain was and talked about the medication I was on:
good God what was I not taking…the list went on forever and he was shocked at
the use of pain relief patches of a certain kind that ‘Hubby’ had had to sign
for at the chemist [for some reason they are now no longer available...ha!
Could it be that the side effects included the inability to open one’s eyes,
but yet be able to still see around the room, inability to form sentences or put one foot in front of the other? Not to mention the
conversations I could hear when in the house on my own; true…I even had the
sensation that there was someone in the house walking about downstairs even
though I knew everyone was out. The patch was on for a minimum of 48 hours, often
leaving a sore, red area when taken off!]
Anyway, after a
great chat I lay on his treatment table expecting some kind of body massage: I
needed to relax [never easy to do that when told…remind me to tell you about
another occasion where I was supposed to relax…it involved medical equipment
you’d run from given half the chance!] Led there relaxing I let my mind wander…mmm
my aunt’s chicken for tea and a few wines, pavlova…and millionaire squares and
good God what was he doing? He had rotated my head to resemble Linda Blair in
the Exorcist and was now pushing my head down towards my chest…oh dear Lord
what a way to die…suffocated by own tits! I couldn’t breathe, I was unable to
speak or move and just as I thought I was going to die he laid me back down on
the bed…the most incredible warmth flowed through me and for the first time in
8 months since becoming ill I felt sleepy!!
Bio-Cranial work is amazing and I will not labour the
information but if you ever get the chance to read about it just Google it…it
is mind blowing!
So, I returned for 4 treatments and each day I felt
stronger and stronger and the pain was going duller and duller; he diagnosed it
as inflammation and infection of the ureter; causing spasms which would account
for the suddenness of the sharp pains: also accounting for the constant high
temperatures and feelings of nausea; his treatment had helped the blood flow to the affected areas and help stop the spasms. His advice was to stop all medication and
to return to him whenever possible. I felt fantastic and could actually cope
with the breathing through the space between my tits. The pain didn’t disappear
but I was coping. After each daily treatment my aunt and I went on wee shopping
trips which I had not even been able to consider doing for ages: Ikea, Garden Centres, shopping malls. You see Bangor Co. Down is a sleepy
seaside place with stunning views and it is the gate way to fabulous places. It
has a harbour with sail boats and a beautiful promenade.
Standing at the top of the High Street looking down you can see the harbour and the sea. It’s a wonderful feeling doing your shopping and looking at the sea all the while. There are fabulous modern shops now with designer clothes and furniture and cafes but as children there were beach balls, buckets and spades hanging from every shop front, there was an amusement arcade where we looked at 'What The Butler Saw'…actually it was more like 'What The Uncle Saw!' My uncle was only a few years older than me and he would take us with our pennies to the Arcade: he’d find a bottle crate to stand on and put our pennies in the machine whilst we kept a look out for the adults. He’d laugh and giggle and then jump off the box telling me to jump up quick or 'you’ll see nothing'…which of course happened because by the time I got on the box the pennies had run out. I’d usually cry because quite frankly I’d rather have had an ice cream than see a woman in her knickers!
Standing at the top of the High Street looking down you can see the harbour and the sea. It’s a wonderful feeling doing your shopping and looking at the sea all the while. There are fabulous modern shops now with designer clothes and furniture and cafes but as children there were beach balls, buckets and spades hanging from every shop front, there was an amusement arcade where we looked at 'What The Butler Saw'…actually it was more like 'What The Uncle Saw!' My uncle was only a few years older than me and he would take us with our pennies to the Arcade: he’d find a bottle crate to stand on and put our pennies in the machine whilst we kept a look out for the adults. He’d laugh and giggle and then jump off the box telling me to jump up quick or 'you’ll see nothing'…which of course happened because by the time I got on the box the pennies had run out. I’d usually cry because quite frankly I’d rather have had an ice cream than see a woman in her knickers!
Most of all Bangor holds wonderful memories of staying
with my grandparents…
as children we
spent many summer holidays in Bangor and I loved getting dressed up and going
into Bangor on the bus with my grandma. She used to take me and my big sister to
the linen shop where you could buy linen hankies with a shamrock embroidered on
the corners…my brothers did not accompany us, they were hard work for grandma;
they had no patience possibly because they were little, but my sister and I
knew how to behave because we knew we’d get a Knickerbocker glory whilst
grandma had her fag and a pot of tea AFTER the shopping. We smiled saintly when
she introduced us to her many friends who would stop and say:
“Auch hello there, and who do we have here then?”
“My Georges’ wee girls,” she would reply; “and aren’t they
just two wee hens?” They’d pinch our cheeks and comment on our curly hair and
matching dresses and best of all they’d give us some pennies which we could
spend on sweets and not on the uncle’s favourite past-time!
Good heavens I sound like something from the
1940’s…’pennies for sweeties!'
Well, my mini break was soon over and I was returning home to start my life all over again…the flight home was horrendous! There were delays and I wanted to buy chocolate and a magazine but am always neurotic about being in a queue at the airport just in case they decide to suddenly take off without me.My plane was delayed at Belfast; then I was flown to Manchester; then put on a coach to Blackpool where 'Hubby' was waiting for me. Why are there always people at the airport that you just wouldn’t spend any time with on a normal day to day basis but as soon as there’s a space next to you they descend and by the time you board you know all about their kids, their in-laws, their grief, how one member of the family wants to sell the house and other members want to move in, how the daughter in law expects to have the children looked after every Saturday night, collecting them Sunday afternoon and as a widow you can’t say no because you have nowhere else to go anyway, how they haven’t had a holiday in the sunshine for years due to further education costs, can’t leave the dog, blah, blah, blah and before you realise it not only is your plane gate now flashing boarding but this woman with halitosis is joining you…but worse still is the fact that what she is telling you about is actually your own life story a few years on…
Well, my mini break was soon over and I was returning home to start my life all over again…the flight home was horrendous! There were delays and I wanted to buy chocolate and a magazine but am always neurotic about being in a queue at the airport just in case they decide to suddenly take off without me.My plane was delayed at Belfast; then I was flown to Manchester; then put on a coach to Blackpool where 'Hubby' was waiting for me. Why are there always people at the airport that you just wouldn’t spend any time with on a normal day to day basis but as soon as there’s a space next to you they descend and by the time you board you know all about their kids, their in-laws, their grief, how one member of the family wants to sell the house and other members want to move in, how the daughter in law expects to have the children looked after every Saturday night, collecting them Sunday afternoon and as a widow you can’t say no because you have nowhere else to go anyway, how they haven’t had a holiday in the sunshine for years due to further education costs, can’t leave the dog, blah, blah, blah and before you realise it not only is your plane gate now flashing boarding but this woman with halitosis is joining you…but worse still is the fact that what she is telling you about is actually your own life story a few years on…
Another great instalment. You need to post more than once a week now.
ReplyDeleteThank you, best compliment you can pay me!!
ReplyDeleteI'll keep going as long as someone reads it!!
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ReplyDeleteI concur with everything Dermot has said more more more!!! I will keep reading until the cows come home!x
ReplyDeleteThank-you, I will continue until the cows come home!!
ReplyDeleteYou are my heroine!!!! Love you lots but thats nothing new, and your storytelling talent never ceases to amaze me....What a talent... I am that proud of you I feel like your Mummy!!!!! x
ReplyDeleteIt was a lovely time wasn't it...and thank you for your compliment x
ReplyDeleteI've just read your latest blog. So interesting to read and very well written .... 10/10 if I was assessing you on your literacy ability!!!Haaa Haaaa (It's the teacher in me!!! or even the headteacher in me!!!)Well done.
ReplyDeleteYou've just flown to Ireland (today)so I can't wait to hear about your latest adventures Xxx Keep writing.
As long as you are enjoying reading it, I will continue to write...it's also good to have your professional opinion as well...thank you ...and yes this wee trip will also feature at some point in the future!! xx
ReplyDeleteIt's refreshing, honest and just a really great read. Talented ladyxx
ReplyDelete