Author: aapalmers@icloud.com

Saturday 2nd September
Another brilliant, I was going to say summer day ahead, but it’s now fall/Autumn in England. The sun is shining brightly on the emerald green parklands of Cannizzaro House this morning. Weather report over, a late leisurely breakfast is planned, our last day in Wimbledon means the inevitable packing must happen today, much to Amanda’s chagrin, buts let’s make it as pleasant as possible. 

Breakfast is usually disorganised here, not much communication going on between the staff. Either two or three servers are all over you or none at all. It’s Saturday morning and there is a wedding breakfast going on to add to the chaos.

This morning we decide to go the cooked English breakfast, eggs Benedict, in a flash the plates are on the table before us, tea and coffee though ordered first, lagging seriously behind. The meal presented is a little below expectations in fact I could do better myself, the half English muffin, has lost something in translation, the hollandaise sauce a little thin, the egg a little hard, the bacon not quite as crispy as it should be. We have stayed to long, the eccentricities of the English are seeping into our bones. Our backs are to the thin middle aged lady, sitting two tables away behind us, who no doubt today is weighing another cereal or has her micrometer out measuring the toast. We dig in, deciding that a serve of thin toast might be a better option. Our coffee and tea finally arrive after a second request and we can relax and enjoy the garden view as people begin to gather, to walk their dogs or kick a round ball and enjoy the morning sunshine.

Eventually reality hits and we must start the packing process, the details of which I can spare you, lest to say lots of humming and haring, puffing and panting, ins and outs and weigh ins. 

Once this is accomplished and the once full wardrobes stand bare and desolate, we can move onto our final event. We have discovered that Wimbledon has its very own museum, situated in the village hall, on Ridgeway, we walk across the common and through the village to find it. Open only from 2.30pm today Saturday it is staffed by two local lady volunteers, that are both very obviously old style English, think Agatha Christies Miss Marple, they are inquisitive, and I bet they could solve a mystery or two. I tell them of my history and my visit to Wimbledon to revisit the past. Then we take a tour of the tiny museum that informs about the origins of Wimbledon and its development it to the community it is today. An interesting note is that the Earl of Spencer was the original land owner, princess Diana’s family. Their are lots of interesting facts about the local flora and fauna, local animals included the badger, polecat (similar to a ferret or weasel) the red squirrel more and more under pressure from its introduced cousin the American grey squirrel. After spending a little time looking at exhibits we are back with the two volunteer curators, they are unable to find the street I lived in Sycamore, it’s not referenced in any books, but I tell,them it’s off Chester, maybe they are not so Miss Marple like as I thought. They agree that the common was a great place to grow up, quite a playground, but they can’t recollect the pond freezing over in recent times, the winters are so much warmer now the exclaim. They provide me with a great hand drawn map, that then poses a problem of how to pack it. We say our goodbyes and wander off down the high street in search of a newsagent. It’s a very pleasant Saturday afternoon, warm, the colourful street is loaded with people out and about, cafe’s and pubs spilling out onto the pavement or outdoor courtyards. The streets are so narrow and consequently the pathways, so you constantly feel in the way if you stop to browse or admire something. We find our newsagent and buy the last packing tube they have for the map, then head back across the common for the last time. 

We take a break back at the hotel for the remaining time we have left before an early dinner at 6.30pm. An early start tomorrow our airport pickup for our flight to Amsterdam is at 8.00am. We dress for dinner, our last here at Cannizzaro House and descend from our centuries old oak panelled room to the new and very modern bistro below for dinner. A glass of champagne to start to celebrate our last night in Wimbledon. The fillet steak catches our eyes tonight, with spinach for her and baby carrots for me. The meat is served with a slice of onion loaf, not something we have seen before, with a kind of soft cake like texture but dominated by onions. A little copper saucepan sits on the side of the plate holding béarnaise sauce, and a small galvanised bucket holds a serve of French fries. All very interesting. We ask the waiter a Czech with a, it seems to us a French accent, to recommend the wine a Rose for madam and Bordeaux for sir. We watch the sun sink behind the surrounding ring of trees anticipating a colourful sunset, disappointingly it is not to be tonight, the sun sinks and we enter along twilight that again reminded me of my childhood summers when the days seemed so long and endless. We complete the evenings repast with a mixture of British and French cheeses as darkness surrounds us.

Our early night beckons and there is still a little packing to do before we call it a night.

Friday 1st September
Another bright sunny morning this morning and although the forecast is for 50% chance of rain the skies don’t look at all as if they could find a drop. This is England though and only the gods know what the day might bring. We have booked an uber cab to take us into central London today so after an early breakfast we venture out into the still cool morning air to wait for the pickup.

Our ride is on time and we are on our way out of Wimbledon towards Putney Heath, Wandsworth and Clapham, all names that come easy to me as my memory kicks in, then winding our way parallel with the river Thames through Battersea and Lambeth all the time the city becoming more densely populated as the larger mansion style homes of Wimbledon make way for red bricked and white stucco fronted, gable roofed, terracotta chimney topped row houses of two and three stories. The homes, closely packed together, are close to the road, off street parking is virtually non existent. The density is not just about housing, the road carrying cars and buses becomes evermore crowded. The number of buses on the road is amazing, those red double deckers are huge and take up an enormous amount of space on these narrow winding roads, our driver is constantly dodging and weaving around the buses and other obstacles as he takes us forward. The ethnic diversity along the streets also changes as we pass through the denser populated areas, through what seems to be recent migrant areas.

Nearing the river Thames too, building is going on at a frenetic pace, cranes dominate the sky line as new apartment buildings in various development stages are in the process of adding to the population density. Along the riverside, judging by other newly completed apartment buildings, the prices are not going to be cheap, river views this close to London will bring astronomical prices for sure. We continue on until we reach the Waterloo bridge, crossing over we have an amazing view up and down the river, then we are driving through Covent Garden and our destination the British museum. We had promised ourselves some culture this trip and so here it begins. 

I had visited here as a child, as I would think that every British kid would have on a school outing or maybe just diligent parenting, then as now the building is a massive repository for historical relics that were collected by British explorers over several hundred years particularly when the British empire dominated the world.

There are reportedly thirteen million objects stored here covering 2 million years of history. When I visited years ago the museum buildings contained a circular domed reading room that sat in the centre of a courtyard formed by the outer buildings. This was taken down and relocated to the national library building in 1997. In 2000 a replacement building of cream marble formed a new version reading room, the outside of which houses a book store, gift shop and above a cafe. The huge courtyard is now covered by a geodesic type clear roof that connects to a centre skylight dome above the new reading room that remains unseen and closed to the public.

After we pass through security, entry is free and you can take as many photos as you like. We enter through the outer building that acts as the main entrance then opens up into the grand courtyard with the geodesic glass dome above us. 

We decide to purchase the interactive audio tour equipment that allows you to enter into it a room or exhibit number and be guided about the room or hear a story about an article you are viewing. Every piece has a story. You can also be guided by the machine and just pick your areas of interest. We have googled the top things to see, but the two pound map has a list of the most popular, the map is well worth the money, just to stop you from getting lost if nothing else. One of the theme rooms we want to see is a history of clocks, but has you make your way from room to room the many treasures distract you. Before you know it you are wondering around taking in one amazing artefact after another. First off a giant ancestral figure, Hoa Hakananai’a from Easter island just stops you in your tracks. It was given or traded to British first explorer seamen then taken down to the ocean and put on a raft to float out to the wooden ship for transport back to England, an incredible feat on its own.

There are huge hallway rooms on Ancient Egypt with what must be some of the best examples of Egyptian sculpture outside of Egypt, then there are the mummies and sarcophagi. 

Then many rooms of ancient Greek relics particularly painted pottery urns, jars and vases of unbelievable detail.

 A Japanese room, again with amazing pieces dating back through time before the Edo period to current time. Europe features medieval Europe and particularly fascinating to me Roman Britain. Since the romans ruled Britain from 43 to 410AD there is a lot of history there. The Middle East is featured with relics from Assyria. 

The Americas including Mexico. We see the turquoise studded mosaic mask of the Aztec god Tezcatlipoca. And Mayan stone carvings.

A striking bronze head of the Roman emperor Augustus, an enormous preparatory sketch for a later painting by Michelangelo, a treasure trove of Roman jewellery and coins,

the gilded inner coffin of Henutmehyt a Theban priestess and a Japanese samurai suit of armour built to stop Portuguese rifle balls, all before we make it to the clock exhibition.

 We decide to have a break and grab some lunch in the cafe style restaurant that sits overlooking the great courtyard, before descending again into the outer buildings to discover more and more treasures. 

An entire room is dedicated to money, both coins and paper, its origins and development through the ages. One item on display is an extremely ornate Tiffany cash register manufactured in Dayton, Ohio in 1901, you can imagine its use in early department stores at that time. 

When we do eventually find the clock exhibition, one can only say it is magnificent, clock making led to all sorts of other so called automaton, once the coiled mainspring was invented to store power by mechanical winding a number of consecutive movements could be made to operate by a series of gear wheels. One clock a golden gallon made in Germany in the mid 1500’s has wheels that in enabled it to sail across a banquet table, played drums and music, has figures that represent the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II and entourage that rotate inside an outside the passenger quarters at the rear of the ship and also fired canons, all that and it told the time too! 

While large clocks built for church towers and town plazas started to appear in the 14th century, it was not possible to make portable clocks until the mainspring was invented, these were still not very accurate until the 18th century when the balance spring was invented. The most accurate clocks were the pendulum clocks invented in the mid 17th century.

The display traces the earliest clocks through to the pocket watch and wristwatch of today. We hadn’t realised clocks were that old. We decide it’s time to move on, we have spent nearly five hours here, but we are continually distracted by other exhibits we walk through to try to gain egress. One last mission though to see the Rosetta Stone, we eventually find it a slab of dark grey granite like material, that solved the mystery of interpreting hieroglyphics, enabling scholars over 25 years to translate them into a language we could understand today. The stone, actually the same decree engraved in the stone, in three languages was the key. Discovered in 1799 by a French member of Napoleons expeditionary forces in Egypt, however taken by the British when they defeated Napoleon in Egypt in1801. The stone was considered so important that it had to be stored underground during World War Two.

Eventually we call it a day with blinkers on we head outside and make our way by foot to Drury Lane and through Covent garden. This is the heart of Londons West End theatre district and is full of colourful pubs that are beginning to fill and spill out onto the streets with afterwork drinkers, or maybe pre theatre dinner goers, it is after all Friday evening, the beginning of another weekend. 

We are soon at the entrance to Waterloo bridge and make our way across the Thames in one direction then cross under the bridge at the end to walk half way back again on the other side just to take photos of the skyline from each perspective. There are ominous looking black clouds around but the sun keeps popping out from its position low in the sky, as the air cools towards evening. 

We then find a convenient place to call up an uber cab on our phone app, the car arrives in five minutes and we are whisked away from London following the same route back to our hotel in Wimbledon. Each journey taking around 45 minutes. With still full stomachs after our museum lunch we enjoy a glass of wine and some olives in the hotels bar then retire for the night after a long day of cultural awareness. 

Wednesday 30th August
We now have working mobile numbers again Tony +447555207127 Amanda +447423789973 if you have sent us a text in the last few days we may not have received it. You can also message us through this website.
The overcast skies let loose overnight, when we wake it is to a wet and cold looking grey day, a perfect day to spend indoors. Today we have organised lunch with my cousin Janet and her husband Graham here at the hotel bistro that overlooks the beautiful parklands setting of Cannizzaro House.

We have breakfast, also served in the bistro, by the time we leave the rain is coming down fairly heavily, looking as if it is definitely settling in for the day. 

Janet and Graham arrive at the hotel around 11.30am, early so that we can chat for a while before lunch at 12.30pm. When they arrive we slip into easy conversation, although we haven’t seen them since Sandra & Dean’s wedding in Australia in 2012 it really does seem like only a few months ago. Amanda too enjoys there company and we talk on and on catching up on each other’s families latest events, our lives and shared history as the children of two very close brothers. We spent a lot of time together on holidays or on weekends as families when we were young. I was the only boy and the eldest, so it somehow fell to me to look after my little cousin Janet, while my sister Sandra and cousin Barbara, more of the same age played together. Time passes through lunch and on into the late afternoon at which time we think we should move to the bar lounge before we are handed dinner menus, the conversation continues as the sun briefly makes an appearance before going down for the night. The time slips away until the hands on the clock reach 9.00pm and our guests need to leave for their home in Fetcham about 30 minutes away. We had a great lunch and wonderful conversation that could have gone on, if only the days were longer. We say our “Til we meet agains” and retire for the night. 
Thursday 31st August
A very cool morning this morning a little bit of a shock to the system, through the window, we see sunny skies outside, inviting us to a pleasant day, I check the temperature but it’s only 8c/46f, chilly indeed.

After breakfast, we take our now usual path across Wimbledon Common, me wearing a light sweater and Amanda in her light rain jacket, we add our footsteps to the all ready well worn pathways, tracks really that criss cross this grassy space. Through the village we walk and following the signs down Church road, pass St Mary’s church on our right until we reach the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club, better known as Wimbledon. We are booked for a tour of the grounds and facilities starting at 11.00am, our ticket tells us to be there thirty minutes before hand we are early and we are on time to do that. 

It still amazes me that such a famous place was so close to where I grew up and I really never went there or to my recollection even passed by. My parents were not sporty people, dad didn’t take much interest in football, tennis was I believed for the elite, neither did mum except maybe the football pools, a type of gambling where by you guessed the wins, draws and losses of the football team competition and could win substantial amounts of money if you predicted the right outcomes. More amazing is the fact that between 1955 and 1964 Australia dominated Wimbledon, winning the men’s single seven out of the ten years, with players Lou Hoad, Rod Laver, Ron Emerson, Neil Fraser and Ashley Cooper. One must believe that this somehow worked it’s way into my parents psyche and helped build a picture of Australia as a winning country and a place where a new start could be had.

My first impressions are that the old buildings look like the older part of Adelaide oval, red brick covered in deciduous ivy that is now starting to turn red and being clipped back to follow the buildings window edges. We pass through security, opening our bags to the watchful eyes of security officers, before having our tickets processed and proceeding to the tour starting point.

The tour starts on time and will last approx ninety minutes, long we thought as we join a small group and begin our tour in earnest. Our tour guide, a middle aged lady with a love of tennis begins with the outside courts describing how the courts are renovated and reseeded each year with meticulous care after the season and can take nine months to once again reach their peak, a dense lush green playing service of just 8mm high. This year over 475000 people attended the championships, a far cry from the 200 that watched the first match played in 1877. It’s not that expensive to buy a day pass during the season around 45 pounds, but you have to be quick to grab a seat from one of the only three rows of seats that line the outer courts, if you leave your seat it is forfeit. The Club currently has 18 tournament grass courts, eight American clay courts, two acrylic courts and five indoor courts. There are also 22 Aorangi Park grass courts, which serve as competitors’ practice courts before and during The Championships. 

Cranes rise high above court 2, this court is currently having a roof added to it as rain is always a feature of Wimbledon events only on a handful of occasions has it not rained during a Wimbledon tournament.

 We venture into centre court territory, behind the scenes where the media have their studios, the BBC a major sponsor is the studio we are shown. Sue Barker was presenter this year and was joined by tennis legends Martina Navratilova, John McEnroe and Billie Jean King.

All the major world broadcasters have studios here, as we pass along the corridors we notice Fox Australia. We pass outside and laid out before us is centre court, the grass looking a little worse for wear, but apparently recently reseeded. Above us the roof is open and on queue a gentle rain starts to fall, the clear blue morning sky has disappeared. 

The tour continues describing the on going plan to move Henman’s hill to accomodate the moving of another court and to create more courts. One of the amazing parts of this tennis club is that the courts are built above ground with restaurants and tunnels big enough to drive trucks through underneath in order to service the vast amount of people that visit every year. 

We visit the players facilities, where there are restaurants, even nail and hair salons everything they may need before going onto court. As long as they stay within 7 miles of the facility they are provided a free ride to and from the courts. Not only is Wimbledon the only grass tennis grand slam but it’s the only one where players have to wear all white, no colour allowed, even underwear, that might show through, or on shoes.

We may have thought the tour was going to be long but the time just whizzes by. The commentary informative and entertaining. We have some lunch at the Wingfield cafe, named after Major Walter Clopton Wingfield who was instrumental in the mid 1800’s in taking tennis outdoors and developing the game as we know it today. They can’t make coffee but desserts are unbelievable.

 We tour the museum with many interesting facts about the game, the development of racquets to me one of the most fascinating. A huge industry in itself, starting with hand made wooden laminated racquets, to steel then aluminium and now graphite, the latter mixed with other materials like tungsten and titanium.

When we emerge from the museum there is still light rain falling but the sun is warm when it peeks through. Amanda with her jacket is happy, me not so I left mine at the hotel thinking the clear blue skies would stay but this is Wimbledon. Fortunately the rain eases then stops altogether as we make our way back up Church road, through the village, stopping at a cute looking book shop, then across the common and finally back to the hotel.

We have booked dinner tonight at “Light on the Common” in the village, a casual cafe style restaurant we ate lunch at earlier in the week. The rain has stayed away but we aren’t taking any chances, with our rain jackets and a large hotel provided umbrella we make our way back across the common, about a ten minute walk to the eatery. The sky is clear above with some beautiful cloud formations across the common ahead of us that are lit by the dying light behind us, while the buildings in the village are reflecting their colours of brown brick and painted white, blue and pink in Rushmere pond, that is now mirror still. I didn’t bring my camera but the iPhone will do, I can’t miss this picture worthy of a painting.

The restaurant is quiet we are the first to arrive, our shared entree/appetiser of calamari and broccolini in a sweet chilli sauce arrives quickly, before the bread and olives we had also ordered. The squid is tender and tasty, we have grown to like the French rose’s currently hitting the wine lists, this one is no exception, crisp and delicate, light in colour with just a hint of nectar. We have to ask again for our bread, telling them to forget the olives. Just as our main course arrives so do they, obviously no communication going on back in the kitchen tonight. 

Amanda had ordered a very British dish of Cod with baby potatoes and broccolini, while I had ordered the teriyaki salmon, with haricot beans and broccolini. Both dishes are delicious. For dessert we stick with ice cream, although there were many exotics desserts on offer. 

Finally well satisfied with our days adventures, we walk back across the common in the darkness lit by the torch from my iPhone back to Cannizzaro House and our beds.

Tuesday 29th August
Overcast skies have moved in over night, matching Amanda’s mood, she has somehow caught a cold and is not happy about it. We postpone our Hampton Court Palace visit, we may have the opportunity later on in the week but let’s see how the princess feels, one has to be at their best when visiting relatives. Although since this was Henry the eighths palace a few princesses didn’t make it out again with their heads intact, that would fix a sore throat right!

The phone issues continue, we discover that making an international call or text on a prepaid phone is going to need a visit to the bank manager. I have breakfast alone, but either side of me are examples of English eccentricity, the couple to my left, already seated when I arrive are waiting for their porridge and have waited for quite awhile buy the sounds of their protestations. I order some toast and a coffee and go off for some juice and muesli. When I return the couple are delivered eggs and bacon, while still eating their porridge. They immediately send the food back, then having finished their porridge ask for the eggs and bacon back again, only to send the food back again because the bacon is not crispy enough for their liking. Meanwhile an extremely thin middle aged lady on my right is weighing two packets of pre packaged Weet-a-bix (a breakfast cereal comprised of wheat flakes compressed together to form light rectangular biscuits), on a tiny pocket scale the size of a mobile phone she has produced from her bag and placed on the table. She calls over the waitress and asks her to compare, obviously the packaged weights differ, between them they choose one and the waitress pours the cereal biscuits into a bowl and the lady proceeds to pour her milk on them and eat them.

Meanwhile I have devoured my muesli, juice and nearly all my coffee but still no toast has arrived. Glancing around hopeful of a toast delivery I see the thin lady next to me has had a stack of toast about a 10 inches high delivered to her, I had heard her order the toast earlier, thin toast she had requested very thin. She is now comparing each slice to see which is the thinnest, again calling the waitress over to give her opinion. When they finally decide which is the thinnist she sets to eating the slice leaving the rest on a side plate, very peculiar to say the least. Meanwhile I am still waiting for my toast, then the waitress arrives and asks me for my cooked breakfast order, no cooked breakfast for me I explain, I just want the toast I ordered, she scurries off to fetch the toast that thankfully arrives soon, I dare not ask for another coffee it could be weeks before it arrives. I had watched the waitress yesterday morning while waiting for a second cup of coffee, their coffee refilling system revolves around taking your cup to a bar for a server behind the bar to fill, the bar staff are of course busy, so the waitress fills out a slip/order for the coffee and takes off to wait other tables, when she arrives back ten minutes later there are several cups on the bar with a variety of slips that take another ten minutes to sort through, if your lucky you might get another coffee or may be someone else’s tea. Obviously it’s a health hazard to carry a hot pot of coffee around with you in the UK. This is England I start thinking Fawlty Towers.

Having finished my breakfast, entertaining though it was, I go up to the room to check on the patient. Not improved she has fallen back to sleep but wakes when I disturb her with my movements around the room. I have to sort out the phone situation plus I now have a shopping list of pharmaceuticals, so I take off across the common and down Wimbledon Hill to the Vodafone store. The Vodafone people are helpful explaining that I don’t need to use their services, rather that of their internet competitors Viber or WhatsApp. Since this only works if you have a wifi connection, and we are uncertain as to how ours will be in the coming river cruise weeks, I leave screaming! Next stop. Boots the chemist, where a bewildering array of foreign brands confront me, I manage to pickup an immune booster, a throat deadener, a cold system reliever and some throat soothers, just in case the deadener doesn’t work. Pounds lighter in my wallet and pounds heavier on my arm, I walk back up the Hill and across the common, taking pictures along the way of any points of interest I may have missed yesterday, eventually arriving at our very own mansion on Wimbledon common. 

Oh, I haven’t mentioned the Wombles, these are a famous creatures that appeared on the common after myself and family left in 1961. We spotted several in the gift shop at the Windmill museum but they where all stuffed.

Amanda is still asleep when I arrive back but soon awakes at my rustling of parcels. I coax her from her bed for a shower and a sit in the garden so that we can have the room serviced. Grumpily she agrees and I take off to wander the garden of 35 acres and await her call. 

We meet in the garden a little later, under the shade of beautiful maple tree with a circular teak bench around the trunk. The air temperature is warm around 25 degrees, no wind and becoming more overcast, but no sign of rain. After awhile we take a walk around the extensive gardens, some in disrepair and some dating back 300 years. There are Rose gardens and extensive plantings of small trees and large. Azaleas, rhododendrons, wisteria over wooden trellises and every where garden benches for just sitting and contemplating.

 Eventually stomachs call for food and we head inside to sit in the hotels lounge bar for a sandwich, tea and coffee. 

After which our room is well serviced and we can retire to it for a quiet evening of recovery. We decide to watch some news as we have barely seen any in weeks, the TV is on the blink and we have to wait for a tech to fix it but eventually we see some news, prominent is hurricane Harvey and the devastating flooding of Houston. We order some room service and relax before an early night, an interesting day.

Monday 28th August
Another warm and sunny day in merry old England today, some may even call this a heatwave. I am certainly happy to don the shorts and head out into the sunshine. Phone issues have once again dogged us this trip, the US phone numbers we had with T mobile have died a horrible death, we were assured they would work internationally but they lied they do not. 

Today we go in search of new numbers that will take us through Europe and maybe beyond. 

After breakfast we walk across the common, through Wimbledon village and down Wimbledon hill road, scene of roller skating exercises and bicycle escapades maybe an occasional go kart ride too. Looking at the road now though I wonder how we made it backup the hill. At the bottom of the hill is a pub the Alexandra, Mum always talks about careening out of control on her bike when she was young on an icy day and crashing through a pubs doors, this is probably the pub as it is ideally located for such an event. 

The red 93 buses are constantly passing us by on their route in and around Wimbledon and Putney. We walk down the high street passed the library and the tube station until we find a Vodafone store. Being a bank holiday (a public holiday) we took a risk in coming as the store maybe closed, but many stores are open and Vodafone is one of them. The store only has one employee though, with two customers in front of us. Luckily they are not demanding a great deal of service and it’s soon our turn. We explain our needs, but the tall bruiser of a salesperson with knuckle tattoos and eyebrow piercings is interrupted by an African gentleman who is clearly on something and it’s not water. He has lost his phone and wants to block his SIM card, only he just wants to do it now! Our server politely tell him to wait his turn, but he keeps on muttering under his breath and interrupting saying he wants it done now. Finally our server, quite an intimidating person that’s is clearly not happy at having drawn the bank holiday shift, threatens to call the police. Still muttering the customer quietens down and he can proceed to deal with us. He worked for Telstra in Melbourne, also Vodafone he tells us. Thankfully we are soon out of there not asking all the questions we should have but glad to be on our way with our new phone numbers.

We walk on further past an official looking building that may once have served as the town hall or maybe a bank, the grey white stone, with copper, top floor window surrounds and heavily varnished doors with brass fittings definitely put it in its own category but it is now a Tesco supermarket, somehow unfitting. On the opposite side of the road is the Odeon cinema, still showing films today in IMAX format, but in our day the scene of Saturday matinee fun, showing early black and white sc-fi and the Three Stooges, Curly, Larry and Mo. Further down we pass by the old Edwardian Wimbledon theatre, now the New Wimbledon Theatre with its painted cream and red brick facade and copper domed tower, topped with a golden statue of an angel, in fact Laetitia, Roman goddess of gaiety holding a laurel wreath in celebration. This theatre was the venue for many pantomime performances in our day, pantomime being that peculiar of British shows put on by celebrities at Christmas time.

We walk on a little further before turning back to retrace our steps to take photos of the Broadway as this street was known. We stop off at a more modern shopping centre that seems to link into the tube station and then back out on the street start our ascent of Wimbledon Hill. Down the hill is definitely less trendy more working class, we can see the rows of houses down streets that travel away from the Broadway a far cry from the mansions on the hill. There are plenty of realtors with shop windows displaying a wide range of properties for sale, by this we can see that what may have passed for working class homes are certainly much more expensive now and the mansion sized homes around the common are astronomically priced.

Once back up the hill we are both feeling peckish, we find a nice looking cafe called Light, being a bank holiday most cafes are flat out, a free table hard to spot, even those that spill out into the pavement. Light however does have a free table and we settle in for a late lunch. In fact the brunch they are still serving at 2.30pm looks great. Usually reserved for breakfast we indulge in eggs Benedict with bacon and spinach with a glass of Rose. This hits the spot perfectly, I ask about the coffee, is it good? Can you make a serious cappuccino? Our young server looks worried but say yes, I take her word for it and order one. Amanda though, at home with the home of English breakfast stays with her tea.

True to her word the coffee is hot and excellent with a good topping of dense rich foam. I tell her we are Australian and that Australians are coffee snobs, she is surprised, explains only the Italians usually give them cause for concern here. Now she is on the watch for Aussies too! Afternoon tea is about to happen just as we are about to leave, a table is set with today’s dessert choices, ready for the high tea brigade.

We walk back across the common to insert our SIM cards back at the hotel our Vodafone guy in no mood to offer assistance or even a paper clip, that I have to ask reception for so that we can extract the T mobile SIM’s and ceremoniously bin them. We have to load our know Vodafone accounts with some money for calling and texting to the USA and Australia, this is more difficult than one would believe, you would think Vodafone would be happy to take our money, but no! we manage to load one phone but not the other, looks like another trip down the hill tomorrow.

Another day is quickly over, the sun setting once again over the manicured lawns and gardens of Cannizzaro house throwing a pink light off the the few clouds that remain in the darkening sky.

Sunday 27th August

The weather gods are with us again, we awake to a brilliant English summer day.
Breakfast is in the hotels bistro a relatively new addition to this centuries old house. The ceiling to floor sliding doors open up to overlook the lush green park that are the grounds of Cannizzaro house, green lawns lead out to a ring of large emerald green deciduous trees with timber benches placed strategically beneath them. Once finished we begin the day with a walk along West Side Common road towards the wooded part of the common that leads to the Wimbledon Windmill Museum. Built in 1816, the mill was a derelict ruin on the common when I was a child, but now it is fully restored and a big item of interest in the local area. The Wimbledon common in this area is very wooded, crisscrossed with horse riding trails, bicycle and walking trails that wind their way through, the in parts dense forest. As far back as 1871 this area of open ground and wooded forest was protected by an act of parliament to stop development and allow public access. Very much like Adelaide’s own park lands. Wimbledon as a result was a popular place for the gentry and politicians as it was close enough to London but still had a very country feel.
Disappointingly our phones are still not receiving data, making finding our way a little tricky, how quickly we begin to rely on technology. Since there is a Windmill road, once we find this all we needed to do was to follow it. Today is free access day to the museum, we can look around, take in the interactive displays and watch some of the information sessions on the TVs display, we hadn’t realised that there where, and still are a large number of windmills in the U.K. Constructed using many different construction techniques. Think Windmills and if you are like me you think Holland, now the Netherlands. Water wheel mills strategically placed in rivers and streams where always built in preference to windmills as .the water flow could be controlled and was consistent, whereas the wind is vastly more unreliable, and uncontrollable. Many designs appeared over the years, tried and built, they where far easier to build then a river mill and originally considered portable, early designs sitting on a single supporting pole buried in the ground. Eventually though steam power put the mills out of business as did modern steel rotating crushers over the old stone wheel shaped grinding technology.

The day warms up considerably as we walk on, there are many people out and about on what we now discover is August bank holiday long weekend. We take some photos and move on, my last visit to this site incredibly is some sixty years ago. We walk on back towards the open part of the common, past many large mansions that line the road overlooking the forest to a section that I remember most as a child. Rushmere pond sits in the centre of the path that took us from the housing area where we lived to Wimbledon Village and the High street that is the centre of any English town. Rushmere pond, is the a place where my grandfather sailed his hand made yachts before such things as radio control. Where we paddled up to our knees in summer and in winter we stepped upon the thick frozen ice to see how far we could go slipping and sliding by foot or with handmade toboggans. The name Rushmere apparently came from the rushes that grow on the edges of the waters, that in medieval times where used to thatch the houses of primitive dwellings.

Lining the edge of this part of the common are a row of large horse chestnut trees, a distant cousin of the lychee, this tree produces a large brown inedible nut that we used to prise from its prickly green casing to turn into conkers. The conkers would be drilled through, sometimes baked in the oven to harden them and then threaded on a string. The object of the game was to swing your conker slamming it into your opponents conker while he held it still, in turn until one conker was smashed to smithereens. The boy with the most intact conker won the game.
We turn and walk into the village, now a colourful place indeed, baskets of petunias hang from lamp posts, trendy shops, cafes and restaurants line the streets full of people enjoying the summer weather. My memory is of a much drearier place that meant shopping for groceries or necessities not much in the way of fun. The old pubs are still there, the clock tower, the war memorial looking all the part of an English village. We walk on to the top of Wimbledon hill but turn back before descending maybe tomorrow.

We walk back towards the common, crossing it again and on to Camp road, at the bottom of Camp road, passed the Fox and Grapes pub is the elementary school I went to from ages five to eleven. The school built in 1758 then called “Old Central” was built by wealthy patrons to educate the poor before schooling in England was made compulsory. Made of brick in an octagonal shape it was added to over the years to form the school I went to and is still used a preparatory school today. Opposite the school is Camp Farm and at the end of the road is the Royal Wimbledon golf course. Camp road’s name is said to derive from the site of a roman fort that was called Caesars Camp though it is doubtful that Caesar ever went there.

We exit Camp road back to West Side Common road, and back to Cannizzaro house for a break. I take up my ongoing conversations with T-Mobile about mobile phones lack of data connection but with no real success.
Back out on West Side Common road we head straight to Chester road and around to Sycamore road where I lived with Mum, Dad & Sandra all those years ago before moving to Frimley, Hampshire then onto Australia. It is an eerie feeling, I lived here between 1955 and 1961 in a small third story flat, in a small block of similar units. All is just as it was all those years ago the brown brick walls that surround the flats rear common lawned courtyard that acted as our runway high above the street, (in reality just a little taller than me), the lockup sheds with painted royal blue doors that held our bikes and little red go kart all still there, amazing. The flat though used to have a balcony that is now closed in. The low front wall where Dad exploded a box of fireworks when he accidentally dropped a match into the box filled with Catherine wheels, jumping jacks and penny rockets, one Guy Faulks night, all there, the scenes playing in my memory. The many flowering plants in garden beds along the low brick walls and walls of the flats are all new though and add a welcoming touch of colour to the dreary brick buildings that was not there in my day, or are my memories in black and white too.

We leave Sycamore and Chester roads and walk back towards West Side Common road again this time turning right and walking down passed more mansion sized houses towards the Crooked Billet where the pub of the same name sits alongside the Hand in Hand another pub. These places also formed part of my childhood, this was my parents local drinking hole not that they drank a lot but get togethers with family and friends usually started here before dinner. This Crooked Billet, (a common name for pubs in England said to derive from a bent tree branch that the inn keeper would hang on the door of his inn as a land mark, letting travellers know they were on the right track and welcome) sits facing a small triangular green named “Crooked Billet” full of patrons of both pubs sitting in deck chairs and on the grass in the bright sunshine enjoying a local brew. We have booked for dinner here, inside there are very few people, the day being as it is warm and sunny probable explains that. The bar tender directs us to the rear of the pub to the bistro area that is decorated like the inside of an old second hand shop, an attic above huge beams and a fireplace displays all sorts of items you may find in an actual attic, while the tables and chairs are a mishmash of designs that you would find in an actual second hand furniture shop, just like the one we visited in San Diego what now seems an eon ago. We are directed to a tiny round table for two with two small upholstered armchairs with tan leather backs and cloth seats. Above us the latest design in “what was old but now new” Edison bare bulb lighting hangs dully illuminating our space. A sky light not far from us throws sunlight into an adjacent space so it’s not to dark, but deeper in towards the attic area the light fades with the only illumination being these aforesaid bulbs.

We order the chicken roast, with some trepidation since the menu reads half a chicken, with duck fat roasted potatoes, and vegetables, cabbage both green and purple the latter pickled a little, plus Yorkshire pudding and gravy. We pick out a French rose that will hopefully cut through the grease to go with this.
On the menu is reference to a “Sarnie” we are not sure what this is but our waitress informs us it’s the local name for a sandwich, useful local knowledge. We would have shortened it to a Sammy, just as silly.
Our meals arrive and they are huge, at least though the chicken is only a poussin, tiny and only a quarter of the size of a respectable Aussie chook. The meal is tasty, having walked all day we are hungry, but eating it all is beyond us both.

We sit for awhile enjoying a second glass of the Rose that was dry but had hints of fruit nectar sweetness, while we once again are contacted by T-Mobile, who though trying, are not successfully dealing with our phone issues.
After some tasty British cheeses we walk back to Cannizzaro House and to our room. I watch the final Crows home and away football game for the year, a lack lustre affair that has me turning it off at three quarter time. They have nothing to play for and it shows. Their opponents West Coast Eagles winning the game and boosting their percentage enough to put them in the final eight above Melbourne, let’s hope they don’t beat us in a final, that would definitely bite us on the bum.
As I go off to sleep I think Wimbledon, this was my world from ages five to eleven we covered a good portion of the area in a day, I realise now, such a very small world but with so many memories.

 

Friday 25th August
Cooler today as we wake to say our early goodbyes to Calista and Justin, these guys are on the go it seems 24/7 up early around 6am and out for band practice then home briefly around 5-6pm then out again an hour later to another party. The energy of the young, don’t remember having such energy myself at that age.

Next to depart are Abbey and Cadence off to summer camp not so energetic these two looking more like they could crawl back into bed. Camp it must be though, cost of sending the kids to these summer camps must be restrictive but most kids go especially when young, sort of like child care with entertainment.

Only Aubrey remains, happy to have the day to herself, she likes her socialising but likes her own time too! Troy is working from home today, essentially so that he can see us off, Heather too is coming home early to say her goodbyes.

We finish off our final packing, then spend the morning with Troy until Heather returns around midday. We sit outside chatting on the patio, the humidity now has completely disappeared, replaced by a cooler air temperature that is refreshing after the past weeks heat. Amanda hungry decides to have a snack, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich her last meal on US soil harks back to her childhood.

Fifteen minutes ahead of time our ride arrives to take us to Philadelphia airport for the next leg of the trip. We say our final sad goodbyes with lingering hugs to Troy, Heather and Aubrey, then load ourselves into the car to be whisked away through quiet suburban Holland and surrounding suburbs until we eventually meet up with the i95 that takes us towards the more densely populated outer suburbs of Philadelphia and the airport. The traffic flows pretty well as sometimes up to nine lanes feed vehicles in and out of the city. The road works are minimal today making the ride an easy one. Once at the airport checkin through British airways is a breeze, as is security except here we have to remove shoes, hats and laptops before a body scan, then on to the British airways lounge where we can relax for a couple hours before our flight.

The Boeing 737 flight is a little delayed but we are soon on our way, there is a strong tail wind reducing our flight time by an hour, a result of the hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Dinner is served, an over cooked piece of beef with chorizo spiced potato rosti, some cheese and a glass of Australian Barossa Cabernet. We settle down for the night on the seats that lay flat at a touch of a button. The cabin temperature again is cold so the blanket provided put to good use. In four hours we will touch down in merry old England for eight days of sightseeing and fun. 
Saturday 26th August
Three hours of sleep and we are awakened as we make our approach to Heathrow airport, the local time 6.00am. Breakfast of yoghurt and muffins is served plus an unappetising looking bacon roll. We are not used to having breakfast shoved in our face at what to us is 3.30am in the morning. The flight was shorter than the usual trans Atlantic crossing due to that tail wind, but landing is another story, the ground is busy with planes arriving at a rate of knots, we have to go into a holding pattern while ground control clears the circling birds in front of us. After three Heathrow aerial loops we are told we can land, down we go to a shuddering landing. We disembark, the airport is busy, very busy, we descend several floors by escalator, then a crowded shuttle train and a walk to baggage claim. I decided to use my British passport to enter the UK this time, because Amanda is entering on her Australian we are shunted to a long queue of aliens, bypassing the electronic system. I notice a board that advises we could have registered Amanda as a foreign entrant, that would have speeded things up, but no one tells you these little bits of important information. Thankfully the line is fast moving and after ten to fifteen minutes of shuffling along we are through to collect our luggage. 

Our ride is there waiting, he looks at our luggage, sizing it up, that has me worried, but the bags fit easily in his Mercedes E class sedan. As we leave the airport the sky is crisscrossed with hundreds of jet streams an indication of the flights coming and going across London. We are soon on our way towards London, traffic is light, early Saturday mornings the reason I am guessing. We cross the Thames via the ornate Hammersmith bridge making our way through the leafy suburbs of Merton. Up in front of us is a red London bus with a number etched in my memory the 93, that as a kid took me most places I needed to go, the bus is more modern than I remember though. Our driver has a slight malfunction as we near our hotel, Cannizzaro House, we end up passing my old school that I instantly recognise then turn into a blind alley. I have to redirect him back down the road and in the direction of the hotel that is just around the corner. I tell the driver I haven’t visited this area since 1983 but lived here from 1955 to 1961 he is impressed, that I still know the way, just quietly so am I.

We check into the hotel and are shown to our room, “The Oak Room” is as it’s name suggests heavily panelled in dark oak, with a stone fireplace that has a beautifully hand carved oak surround. Portrait paintings of 17th century figures hang from the walls, leather high back armchairs are a feature. It’s all very old English, just want we expected of the former home built in the mid 1700’s and mostly leased from the early 1800’s to Sicilian Francis Platamone, Count St. Antonio and his Scottish wife Sophia.

The enormous bed beckons, we crawl into it not waking for another five hours. I wake to warm summers day and try to fix our mobile phone connection issues spending an hour talking to T-mobile before we are finally connected, although the the connection is not very satisfactory. Amanda sleeps on, but I wake her to try and put her back on track. We book dinner in the hotels restaurant, that faces west over the beautiful park that the house is set on. As the sun slowly sinks in the sky we toast our arrival in England with a glass of champagne then enjoy a beetroot and goat cheese appetiser, chicken liver parfait and a chicken Cobb salad main course. Wine is an Italian Verdicchio served in a small carafe. We have room for dessert, chocolate ice cream for the princess, and an afogato, hot espresso coffee poured over vanilla ice cream for me.

Back to the room we try to catch-up on some news, particularly the hurricane affecting the Gulf of Mexico, but there is not a lot of information available, before turning in for the night.

Wednesday 23rd August
A perfect day again today, any hint of a storm is not at all evident. Blue skies, mildly warm temperatures great summer weather. We have decided to take the “triplets” to the movies today. We book early and organise them to be ready by 11.15 when our pre ordered uber cab will be here to pick us all up and drive us to the nearby Oxford Mall. We have decided to see Spiderman ” Homecoming”. Spider boy really, as this follows on from the avengers “Civil War” movie where the young Peter Parker has a tryout with the big boys, Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow and Hawkeye. Now waiting for the call up to another mission he manages to involve himself in a group of salvage operators, turned criminals when their contract to salvage alien tech is withdrawn from them.

Wearing his newly Tony Stark designed Spider-Man suit the young Parker bites off more than he can chew. Screwing up once in his attempts to bring the salvage guys turned alien tech weapons manufacturers/designers/dealers to justice. As a result Tony Stark takes away spider boys high tech suit and leaves him with diminished powers. Spider-Man then has to draw on his inner strength to defeat the now powerful alien tech enhanced boss of the salvage group, who also happens to be the father of his date to the homecoming ball, using his own spider enhanced powers and resources. A fun super hero movie, watched in a comfortable small theatre with reclining seats along with the usual movie food that made for an enjoyable afternoon with the girls. We uber cab back home, certainly the best way to travel around here, we never have to wait too long for a ride. The afternoon is still warm and sunny so we spend the rest of the day relaxing on the patio. Justin and Calista are still involved in their band activities for the day and end of summer holiday parties by night. Abbey and Cadence return to their summer camp tomorrow our last full day here. Leaving Aubrey with us, although she is very self sufficient. Heather arrives home after another days work. Then is off to collect Justin and Calista so they can prepare for their evenings outing. When they arrive home Calista is dressed in pale blue with a matching pale blue bow in her hair, she is beaming after a day of drama practice where she plays Wendy in Peter Pan, her main source of mirth is that she has managed to dress her boyfriend Ben in tights, while his best friend Greg had to dress up as tinker bell.

Troy arrives home and between them, Heather and Troy put together a dinner of fish and chicken tacos for us all. By the time we chat over dinner with a glass of wine, then cleanup the hour is late. We are way off our home routine by now, this is our 49th day away from home. Tomorrow is our last day here in Pennsylvania before we fly to London on Friday.
Thursday 24th August
Again those clear blue skies dominate, it is cooler though as summer starts to fade into fall. Packing day today though, our last day has arrived and tomorrow we must take our leave. Amanda ever the expert packer sets to after breakfast, during these times I like to stay clear, until called for to give the suitcases a weight check. Aubrey is the only one with us today, quiet as a mouse she stays to her room only leaving it for sustenance. The pleasant day wears on as we prepare for tomorrow, gathering our possessions as well as our thoughts for the coming journey ahead. All done we retire to the patio to soak up the last of the Pennsylvania sunlight before Troy & Heather arrive home.

We have managed to book them all, Troy, Heather, Calista, Abbey, Cadence & Aubrey in for family dinner tonight at La Stalla, a local Italian restaurant that is rapidly becoming a favourite. Just there the other night we know that the outcome will be good. Time is spinning around so fast at the moment it’s hard to keep up. The time quickly arrives for our dinner date, for the first time in ages I dress in long pants even putting on shoes and socks, the temperature has dropped but the sky is still clear. The kids including us are bundled into the two cars to take us to the the restaurant. La Stalla has a great atmosphere no matter if you dine inside or out, tonight we are outside under an awning stretched out over two rows of tables, the air seems warmer here in Newtown, maybe the cooking aromas in the air coming from the busy kitchen are enough to warm our senses.

We are seated at two cream linen covered tables, one round and one oval, pushed together to form one oddly shaped table. An authentic Italian restaurant even the waiters look and speak with Italian accents, must be interesting when La Stalla advertises for waiters, “Must have, black hair, swarthy look, and speak American English with an Italian accent” on the last note, the waiter and I have a miss communication, when asked for my drink order I ask for a glass of merlot, the waiter then asks Troy for his order that is a beer, then confirms with me that I want a glass of merlot in somewhat mumbled tones. He returns with a glass of Millers light, a beer, Troy immediately tells him I ordered a glass of Merlot, he apologises mumbling Millers light merlot, over and over. Obviously my Australian American English is about as good as his Italian American English. By my second glass though he has it right, saying not a Millers light a Merlot. 

The specials are so good tonight we don’t even need to look at the menu, Amanda and I split the soft shell crab served crumbed to a dark golden brown with a side of tomato aioli. For mains squid ink blackened spaghetti, in a tomato creme sauce with cherry tomatoes, lobster tail split in the shell and shrimp with tails on, the latter we would definitely call prawns as shrimp are much smaller then these served. When I order I ask for the squid ink pasta, the waiter replies, no squid sir only Lobster and shrimp. The dish looked spectacular, the black coiled spaghetti forming the backdrop to the orange lobster shells, with bright red tomatoes dotted about the plate amongst the shrimp. My only regret not taking a photo of this dish, will definitely have to try to recreate it at home. Amanda asked the waiter for the recipe, he reels it off to her, it’s a easy he says just cook the pasta, drain and add some cream, then a touch of Italian tomato sauce, cook the tomatoes until the skins split combine with the cooked shrimp and lobster, to easy! We will see.


The kids all love pasta and apparently love coming here, the spaghetti and meat balls dish that Cadence orders has one giant meatball in the centre, while Abbey and Aubrey go for a plate of cheese ravioli, the biggest cheese ravioli I have ever seen, accompanied by a rich tomato sauce, Aubrey ordering the sauce on the side.

Amanda and I are still munching on our mains when the waiters clear the plates from the table and offer up dessert. One interesting aspect of dining here is that from west to east diners are always asked if they want a box for any leftovers. A practice we Aussies refer to as a doggie bag, now long since gone from our restaurants due to the idiots that put the food in the back of the fridge for a few weeks then eat it and complain of food poisoning, surprise, surprise!

The kids all except Calista want ice cream, Rita’s is a tiny ice creamery virtually in the parking lot, Troy sends them off with some cash to satisfy their wishes, while I having now given up on my pasta order a creme brûlée. Troy and Heather order one too, and Calista a frozen lemon gelato encased in a lemon skin. Every dining experience is a new one, that always makes eating interesting but this trip I definitely feel, a more expensive experience especially with this tip culture that adds 15 to 20% to the bill, Troy pretty much suggesting that 20% is the norm unless you have a bad experience. To me at least, weird but the average hourly wage here is much lower than in Australia, a lot of people working two jobs to make ends meet.

Back home, Calista and Justin are back out to another end of summer party, the little ones make for bed while we sit up for a short while with a night cap before eventually retiring ourselves. Tomorrow we fly to London and Wimbledon where we spend a week or so exploring an area that seems so familiar to me in my mind but no doubt will throw up the inevitable surprises. 

Tuesday 22nd August
Very warm day today, in fact have to say hot with temperatures supposed to be around 31c, but with the humidity again building the air seems much warmer the sun much hotter. No cooling breeze either, the air conditioned house is the place to be. Troy has flown to Atlanta early this morning on business, just a day trip, arriving back later tonight. We have the girls again today, now we are referring to them as the triplets, although Aubrey is a year younger she has grown substantially in the last two years and caught up with Abbey and Cadence, now they are all the same height and since Abbey and Cadence are so different in appearance we can easily say they are triplets and no one is the wiser. Just a stay at home today apart from a small shopping outing, the girls continue with their crochet work under careful supervision from grandma. I have set them a task, to read one of my children’s short stories about an Alien botanical linguist and then draw the main character Pigxie. Abbey and Aubrey both read the story and give me the thumbs up, complete with drawing, I’m impressed. Otherwise a quiet day, but Heather has a treat for us tonight, after work she drives us to her parents house in a rural part of New Jersey, on the way we pass through Grovers Mill, made famous when in 1938 Orson Welles broadcast War of the Worlds on radio from New York using a screen play version of H.G. Wells famous novel, written especially for the radio, the screenplay was set in this area making Grovers Mill the landfall site of the Martians. We stop at a park where a monument is situated marking the fictitious landing site. This is a very pretty area, in parts heavily forested, the monument is hidden in amongst bushes behind an expansive lake but we manage to locate it and take a picture. 

Moving on as the light is beginning to fade we make our way to a small coffee shop that roasts its own beans, the walls are adorned with War of the Worlds memorabilia, again I take some more pictures. A bonus is the takeaway coffee this, one of the best cappuccino’s so far this trip.

 Driving on we pass through Allentown, the quaintest little small American town, with two story gingerbread houses, windows with faux shutters always in a contrasting colour to the weatherboard walls, wide railed porches, with flags flying and porch swings. Corn fields a plenty out here too! Just before the light fades completely we arrive at Heathers parents home, down a narrow road, along fields planted with trees and bushes growing for a plant nursery on one side and soy beans on the other. Over a narrow iron bridge that fords a small creek. Stan and Bonnie’s house is a large white two story weatherboard home surrounded by white post and rail fencing, a large double gable roofed garage sits next door connected by a breezeway. The land at the rear is fenced off into corrals for horses with an equally large barn adjacent to them. The property is hobby farm size, looks pristine with the white fences and black shutters. Inside the house is bigger again than it looks, as with most houses in this area looks are deceiving. Most homes have a basement the size of the homes footprint, these make perfect play rooms for kids and adults alike, man caves or sewing rooms, studies, or gyms the extra space effectively turns the house into a three story dwelling. Stan and Bonnie have the house on the market as they are hoping to downsize as we are, the price around the mid $500k mark is amazing value with five bedrooms and newly renovated kitchen incredible. 

We enjoy some pizza before Bonnie shows us around and then Stan shows us his garage. Stan collects classic american automobiles, his new acquisition a bright yellow, with central black racing stripe across the bonnet, 350hp Chevrolet Chevelle coupe, the car sits with open engine bay demanding attention. Built from 1964 to 1978 these cars are still very desirable, Stan buys them, fixes up minor imperfections and then sells them on. 

Alongside the Chevelle sits the 2003 cherry red Corvette, a keeper I’m told and the same car Stan took me for an eye popping ride in, two years ago. Sitting above the Corvette on a hydraulic lift platform is another sports car a bit of a toy Stan explains, another early model Corvette.

We say our goodbyes as storm warnings flash across the TV screen currently showing American idol. The wind has picked up to a cooling breeze that is utterly delightful, on our way home lightening flashes all around us as the storm passes nearby. When we arrive home Troy has arrived back from Atlanta, he has the weather radar up on his IPad, the storm growing nearer. A few drops of rain start to fall but the main mass of the storm has passed to our north east. Another day ends and we retire for the night.

Sunday 20th August
After a late night we rise slowly, but after every party comes the cleanup. The morning is sunny a little cooler than yesterday, the grass wet as if it had rained last night but probably just a heavy dew. Troy plays breakfast chef, making everyone waffles with strawberries, blueberry’s and maple syrup. Energised we spend the early part of morning packing up the garden and the sun room. The waterslide now lies deflated on the side of the house awaiting pickup. All the other rented items are collected together and also awaiting pickup.

We take a break before a left over lunch of cold ribs, chicken and pulled pork all still just as delicious as yesterday. Then just relax under the shady Pin oak on a day that has turned out to be perfect, the humidity gone for now, a gentle breeze blowing. The kids are unseen hibernating in their room most of the day, Calista at a friends house, Justin studying. 

That’s how we spend the day, in recovery mode happy to listen to the silence, after a big day yesterday and a huge build up to that big day. 

Troy & Heathers friends Jeff & Vicky come over late afternoon with their two sons, Ethan 17 and Jacob 15 to help hoover up the rest of the leftovers, this time hamburger’s the main fare. Another pleasantly warm evening spent in conversation with Troy, Heather, friends and family. Once again soaring bats flutter in the dusk, an occasional firefly flickers on and off sending a mating signal. Late in the evening we decide to watch the footy, Jeff is interested in the game as is his eldest son Ethan. The Crows are playing Sydney in Adelaide should be a great contest at this end of the home and away season. The Sydney Swans come out fighting and are soon well on top of the Crows. Jeff, Vicky and family have to leave halfway through as the hour is late. When we resume the Crows fight back taking the lead late in the game only to eventually loose by 3 points, a real nail biter. Now tired ourselves we retire. Troy and Heather are back at work tomorrow the end of our stay coming ever closer.
Monday 21st August

Summer rolls on, another warm still day today. A special one at that, today is the day of the American eclipse, the sun, moon and earth line up for the first time in thirty eight years to create a solar eclipse that will appear to traverse the sky from Oregon in the north west to South Carolina on the east coast. The warnings are out and broadcast across the country, don’t look at the eclipse the piercing light from the corona could damage your eyesight permanently. We are in the north west and so out of the band of totality that provides a 100% coverage of the sun by the moon, blocking all light from reaching the earth. Here we are at 80% meaning that a good deal of light will still be visible from behind the moon.

Today also we are baby sitting the three youngest children Abbey, Aubrey and Cadence for the first time. They are all sleeping peacefully this morning thankfully allowing us time to prepare for the day ahead. After a peaceful breakfast on our own, Troy and Heather off to work, Calista and Justin off to a Spirit day event ( I’d elaborate but have no idea really) the children slowly appear as hunger eats at their belly’s. Once fed I let them know that they need to dress and prepare themselves for grandmas crochet class to take place in the family room as soon as they feel up to it. To our surprise not much time elapses before they descend for their lessons. 

Our two tradies are back putting the finishing touches on the last of the reconstruction work, a task that takes them most of the day, at times the constant drilling making us feel we are in a dentist waiting room.

Later, together we watch the eclipse on TV as the event moves in an arc above us and across the US. As the time approaches the sky darkens somewhat and the temperature drops a little, but we have quite a bit of cloud cover. Justin appears from his morning adventures with a pair of the special viewing glasses and offers them around but I prefer to keep the kids indoors away from temptation. The event passes and really it’s a non event here, cities and towns in the direct path of the eclipse experience an eerie darkness with the bright orange ring of the corona clearly visible through the glasses. A lot of places are having huge events for people to gather and view the spectacle, even the White House has Donald Trump, wife and daughter out on the balcony taking it all in. The event passes and we return to normality, the warmth of the day returning but the non threatening cloud cover remaining into the night.

We eat in tonight, happy to have a kitchen to cook in, Troy has become a veritable grill master chef over the years and tonight chicken has a turn, while Heather makes a pineapple coleslaw with Asian flavours of cilantro, lime juice and chilli. Add to that the last of the left over pasta salads and we have a delectable meal. Of course accompanied by that glass or two of Californian Chardonnay.