Open Writing

In May 1995 we toured Italy from the Tuscan town of Bolsena in the north, to beautiful Amalfi and Sorrento in the south, with a boat trip over to the Isle of Capri. Returning north via Naples, we zig-zagged up the steep rocky slopes over to Monte Cassino, eighty miles S.E of Rome, to see the beautiful monastery, founded in 529 AD. which had been rebuilt after its complete destruction in 1944 in WW2 by General Alexander’s orders for its bombardment by Allied troops from Poland, New Zealand, Canada, France, the British 8th Army, and by U.S. planes drop of 1400 tons of bombs, resulting in casualties numbering 185,000.
The Allies then advanced and took Rome, which is where we finally ended our tour.

On July 10th 1995 we had our Golden Wedding Day. First we went to Cathy’s house in Hitchin and on to the White Horse public house at Southill Bedfordshire, with the family, apart from Geoff who had by then, parted from Cathy. We went back to Hitchin for tea in the garden followed later by a splendid supper that Cathy and Anne Marie had prepared.

In September 1995 we went to Salisbury and stayed at the Rose and Crown hotel at Harnham. The gardens were right on the banks of the river Avon, looking across to the cathedral. From there we travelled on to Exeter where our bedroom window looked over to Exeter cathedral. A most interesting town, with a maritime museum on the banks of the river Exe. The ancient port of Topsham and the seaside resort of Exmouth we also visited.

Val took his family for a holiday in New Zealand in January 1996.

In May 1996 Les and I had a Saga holiday in Almunecar in Andalucia on Spain’s Costa del Sol at the hotel Helios, moving up to the hills on the lower slopes of the Sierra Nevada for the second week to the hotel Moreno in the spa town of Lanjaron. During our two weeks stay in Spain we visited the Alhambra in Granada, Cordoba with its unusual cathedral built round an old mosque, part of which is still inside, and Nerja on the coast among other beautiful places.

In Lanjaron we had a Welsh couple at our table and enjoyed many a joke with them. His name was Grenville, which he shortened to Grid.

Let me tell you the tale of Grenville Rees from Pontypridd. He was spending his retirement circling round the Saga hotels on the Iberian peninsular. Through the years he had got to know most of the staff and resort guides in La Manga, Malaga, Marbella, Almeira, Denia, Benidorm, Salobrena, Bilbao, Santiago de Compostella and Barcelona to name but a few.

The Welsh valleys might have been green, but the mining villages in winter were grey, wet and cold. He loved Spain – so vibrant – so hot – so cheap – well, it was when he first went out there. He had a chronic chest condition which he managed to keep at bay in the dry air of his beloved Espana. A man with a character all his own, with plenty of money behind him since winning a considerable sum on a Lottery, his frequent and sometimes long visits ensured him the best attention of the hotel staff, who called him the Saga Khan.

What a character ! What a comic ! What a laugh we had together. His humorous stories he told with a Welsh lilt which we were sure he exaggerated for our delectation. His one regret, was that the Spanish did not play rugby. Watching U.K. sport on Spanish television really needs no verbal comment, as anyone with a hearing problem knows.

Grid, for that was how he liked to be called, complained that the hotel T.V. showed mostly bull fights, golf championships and Spanish soaps full of torrid love, which when the dialogue was a bit too obscure even for him to understand, seemed like voyeurism.

With pride in his knowledge of Spanish he addressed the waiter with questions on the menu and asked them to consult the chef. Then the head waiter was called over to explain to Grid that the chef was Turkish. No wonder we had some odd looking components on our plates.

One evening when the holiday-makers were assembled in the bar, it was quite late when a couple of guitarists arrived with a dancer and a Flamenco singer, who proceeded to entertain us. You know the sort of thing. Heavy staccato chords struck on the guitars, and as the sound faded there came in the high-pitched wailing of an unsmiling gipsy singer. Swarthy and evil-looking, we felt he must be very authentic.

With Grid we were in the front row of chairs. The group went on for a long time, seemingly encouraged by our brisk hand-clapping between their vituperative deliveries, as we were determined that we should not be seen as ignorant of the meaning behind their flamenco passion. Drinks were brought to the side table and the evening wore on.

Eventually they ceased and stood up. We clapped, but it sounded a bit thin. We looked behind us then, to see that the rest of the Saga guests had left us to it. Not to be deterred, Grenville got to his feet to address the players, who stopped in their tracks looking over in surprise. They paused in mid-flight as they prepared to leave the scene, carrying guitars and chairs. However, Grid’s speech of thanks in his best tourist-style Spanish, delivered, no doubt, with a Welsh accent, seemed lost on the blank-faced quartet, who giving a slight bow, left the bar. After all, being gypsies, they spoke only Catalan.

Waiting at the lift, we asked him what he had said to them. Always one for a joke, he smiled and told us he had thanked them and apologised for the rest of their audience who had departed long since. He told them the other English people were all very old and they had gone off to bed. It sounded a good idea to us; why hadn’t we thought of it sooner

In July we stayed a few days in Banbury, until it was time for Les to go into the Clementine Churchill hospital, Harrow, for removal of a growth in his bladder. He was home on Aug. 6th.

In September 1996 Val and Anne Marie moved from Impington to a larger house in the Cambridgeshire village of Dry Drayton. Tara and Gemma were at school in Cambridge. Tara was at the Perse, and Gemma attended Kings College school. We toured Worcestershire, Gloucestershire and Herefordshire in October.

That Christmas we spent at Dry Drayton.