Today Ma and I are heading to the airport. We are off on an adventure.
Last Autumn, having just started at Exodus, I looked through the brochures, listened to what other staff spoke about, and looked at the number of guests booking each trip. Time and again I heard mention of “TDA” which is the short code for a trip called, “Walking the Amalfi Coast“. I still don’t know many short codes yet – some people have them all in their heads – but TDA went in and stuck quickly. I’ve never been anywhere near the Amalfi Coast but it sounded like a great combination of daytime walking, and evening eating and drinking, so I decided to try it out.
I knew that Ma & Pa had been to Vesuvius at some point, long ago, because I remember there being a piece of lava, with a parcel label tied to it with string, around for all of my childhood. Ma is a good walker, so I thought I’d give her a ring and see whether she fancied it too. Quick as a flash when I proposed the trip, she said, “Ooh yes, I’d love to. In fact I go there regularly!”. Apart from the small chunk of Vesuvius I didn’t realise we had any relationship with Italy, so I was a bit confused:
J: “Regularly? You don’t go to Italy regularly do you?”
S: “Yes I do, or at least I will. I went there when I was pregnant with you, again 21 ½ years later for a weekend with Stew, and this will be 43 years later. So that’s regular. Not frequent, but regular!”
J: “Right enough!”
So it turns out I have been before – although only as a foetus! To maintain mum’s regularity we quickly got TDA booked. We both started to look forward to our time together. I realised that I’ve never been away with just my mum before. We’ve been on holidays together lots of times – with family and friends – including the “girls holidays” (with up to 12 girls aged something like 18-80) that Ma used to organise at the end of February each year before Gwen and I started having babies. It’s a fantastic time of year to have a holiday booked for. I always feel like January, with its dark mornings and evenings, and chilly wet weather, is a bit of a struggle, so having something to look forward to in late Feb / early March is an emotional talisman to get me through.
Since we booked it of course, we’ve decided to attempt Kili. Eek! What we’d planned to be a stroll and limoncello, has now taken on the mantel of a training week. We’ll see how our walking boots get us through, and I’ll learn whether I can get up and put them back on again for another walk every day for a week. It’s something Ma does regularly (and when I say regularly I mean every six months or so, rather than every 21 ½ years!) but I don’t think I’ve ever walked every day for a week in my life.
I think I’m just about packed – bizarrely, I’ve been considering what I’ll need for Kili so much that I’ve not thought about this holiday. I threw some stuff in a suitcase at 10pm last night which I think will do the job. All that’s left is to make 28 packed lunches by 9am for Ivor’s 7th birthday party which is today – I made up the party bags last night – and put everything in the car. First stop: Northall Village Hall; then the train from Tring to Gatwick to find my gorgeous mummy, and then Amalfi here we come!