Monday morning: Mersey River Stroll, Manchester AirPort flight and Salsa Class, easy start to the week
Two Cathedrals across the river make a great skyline by the Mersey, no match for the five Cathedrals Glasgow has, but ours work well into a song “In My Liverpool Home” the Catholic Cathedral is known by scousers as Paddy’s Wigwam
After the stroll: An old brass shell was in Blakey’s garage. Put there to pass onto a funeral parlour that had a souvineer of their work in the Falklands after the war stolen.
Bodies left where they lay or hastily buried during the fighting, were repatriated to their homelands for family burial, or re-buried in war graves on the Falkland Islands.
To mark the job Kenna & Turner had done 8,000 miles from home, a shell case was found and cut down to make a brass ashtray. A memorial coin was inserted in the fuze orifice and engraved.
The ashtray sat on a coffee table in the funeral parlours reception area. A passing ‘scally ’ saw it and ran into the parlour, stole the ashtray and legged-it before anyone could react.
The funeral director had told me the tale at the burial of my mother (she joined my father in their grave at Capenhurst).
Passing the shell case from a friend who served in the war, and feeling a bond from having been sunk in that war on HMS Sheffield, I hoped we help the funeral parlour have a token reminder of the respect given to them for the dignity they gave those lost lives on the other side of our planet. The case is to be cut down and maybe stand in the now secured lobby
On the way from New Brighton to Blakey’s home the alarm reminder on my Ryan Air App said it was just a few hours before my return flight to Murcia, Spain. Strange, as I had planned lunch to thank Blakey and Kath for the bed, meals and airport ride?
My flight would land in Murcia San Javier at 20:15, Stu had offered to pick me up and be there a little earlier (as flights are always early). Salsa Class started at 21:15 with Prisci, who would wait in BuenaVista car park to meet me ready to travel to Mazarrón.
Stu was waiting and saw the aircraft arrive. On-board I was happy to watch the ground approach at 19:55 – all to plan.
The involuntary intake of breath as the wheels hit the tarmac was about to be made……. then the engines roared!! We struggled back into the air, plane shaking and vibrating as it surged to gain lift under the almost landed wings.
Was it a big problem, would we need a controlled crash landing, are we going to the bigger Alicante airport for a safer landing? We circled Cartagena, I wondered if Prisci would wait long in a cold dark closed Buenavista car park and miss Salsa.
A heavy landing, a bemused Stu (who saw us come in, but was surprised to see a plane take off so quickly after we used the landing strip) and somehow an on-time arrival in Buenavista and then Salsa, was quite an experience.
Salsa was really fun, great class and the steps are starting to feel natural. A post-class coffee with Prisci and catch up on the dance steps/news/Spanglais and Spain feels home again.
The rest of the week had a few extra classes to enjoy. Watching the advanced Salsa class – wow – my partner is in for a torrid time as I learn to lead in spinning her like these guys.
The friends I had repaired a roof for had a small emergency with their kitchen drains. So, tools out and drive to their home in the hills and Rambla near the monastery
The blockage seemed severe, I pulled out their dishwasher, cut into the pipe and found solid stuff in what is a four metre length. Stuff like this always happens when you have visitors, David and Diane’s had just left. I dug out enough to make room for overnight un-blocking fluid. I called Prisci to help read the instructions in case my interpretation missed any safety pointFollowing day….. I dug out more gunge, now soft, and used more fluid then repaired the section – the post repair check of a full bowl of water gurgling down and creating a whirlpool pleased David – job done (as an electronics engineer it wasn’t a bad plumbing task effort).
Three Salsa classes, a typically English supper at Casa Davidson where Margaret and Deryk hosted Prisci and I (it replaced an English class in the college that Prisci attends with possibly an almost normal British dining experience), a job done for friends, it was so good to be back.