Back From Scotland

Back From Scotland

I left for the UK on the 28th of July, visiting London on both weekends and spending the intervening week in Scotland. The imperative was to see my grand-daughter, my daughter Natalie and son-in-law Andy in Glasgow but also to see my son in London and as many friends as could be accommodated at the same time. As it turned out I managed to see only my friend Margaret, with whom I stayed in London. The weather was suitably British, cool and often rainy, slightly warmer in London than Glasgow but anyway a welcome break from the heatwave in Mollans.

I had intended that my visit should allow Nat and Andy some time out together but I was too early for that, grand-daughter Eilidh being still too young to be left with me. But there were plenty of photo opportunities, for me with Eulidh and Eilidh in her Chelsea kit, as shown here. I knew that Andy wasn't particularly interested in football so thought the Chelsea romper would be uncontroversial; I didn't know that both of Andy's brothers were Liverpool supporters but that probably just means that Eilidh will be getting a Liverpool romper as well.

The journeys both ways were easy and uneventful. I hate large airports, in common with most people probably, so flew from Avignon to London City, and was through airport formalities both ways in no time at all. I wonder how long that will be possible if Brexit happens. Even the hurly-burly that London can provide passed me by and I found people generally aimiable and kind. As ever in the places in London where I end up I was surprised at the sheer variety of ethnicities. Round the corner from my friend Margaret's house were restaurants specialising in Chinese and Caribbean food and a coffee bar run by Somalis. And on one bus ride I overheard a conversation between a passenger and the driver in Russian. Who wouldn't want that diversity?

I met my son Carl in my favourite Zédel brasserie just off Piccadilly Circus, very good food, wine and impeccable service at well below central London prices. The restaurant, as large as a ballroom, is three floors below ground level and was an air raid shelter during the war. Carl, as ever, was up to his eyeballs in IT and looking tired, obviously having been burning the candle at both ends. However he seemed happy with it.

I had the requisite, on trips to the UK, fish and chips in Glasgow and pints of bitter in London so it was a successful trip in every way.

The heat seemed stifling on my return to Avignon where I collected my car 30 yards from the arrival/departure lounge in the free car park. Does anybody know another airport that has free car parking, let alone 30 yards from check-in/arrival? Then it was back home to continue the watering that friends Steve and Jo had kindly been doing while I was away. They'd managed to keep my plants alive and, a day later, it rained heavily almost all day which gave me a couple of days' grace before I had to lug the watering cans around again. I was glad to be able to indulge my passion for fruit again, now including the grapes from the grapevine over my balcony which were well ripe and the damsons from my neighbour's damson tree that overhangs my back garden. So it's back to fruit, boules, mussels and chips outside the Bar du Pont on Thursday evenings and meeting again the many summer visitors to Mollans that are friends.