One of the greatest treats we looked forward to, when visiting our grandparents as children, was going for a “run in the car”. When I was very small, my parents did not have a car, although occasionally my father would be allowed to borrow the small Austin 7, which lurked in my grandfather’s large garage.
However, when we went out for a run with my grandparents, we didn’t go out in anything so basic! We went out in the chauffeur driven Triumph! The chauffeur-cum-gardener would put on his peaked hat and sit in the front, while everyone else piled into the back. I think that we could sit four abreast quite comfortably and I recollect a couple of flap down seats too. It was quite an undertaking, and there would be some preparation before we set out. Hot water bottles would be filled to put on to our knees and then warm rugs would be tucked in all around us, to ensure we were cosy. I particularly remember one of these rugs, which seemed to be made of fur: I think this was before the days of fake fur, but it seems hard to believe that they might actually have had a soft cuddly rug made of real fur! Maybe they did. Flasks of warm drinks would be prepared: cocoa for children and coffee for the adults.
If it was winter, there would be chains over the tyres of the Triumph, so that it didn’t slip in the ice and snow. I can remember the snow being piled up so high on either side of the road on occasions, that it was impossible to see anything else. If it was at all chilly or windy – most of the time, really – we wouldn’t get out of the car at all. The car would be parked up in a “beauty spot” overlooking some of the truly beautiful rolling Scottish Border country, while we enjoyed the view and sipped our warm drinks, before driving back to the house in stately fashion.
However, if the weather was clement, there would be a purpose to the outing. I remember walking through burns (Scottish streams) to gather watercress, which would be a delicious addition to our afternoon tea that day. On other occasions, we would be collecting field mushrooms. We were warned to be very careful about what fungi we picked: my grandfather would examine each one carefully to make sure it wasn’t something poisonous. Often we would be searching for a particular delicacy for my grandfather’s prize winning canaries. Dandelions, just before the clocks opened, were one delicacy, as were chickweed and “rats’ tails”. We would follow my grandfather over fences and fields to gather whatever was required and place the chosen items carefully in baskets, but the adult women would rarely stray far from the comfort of the car.
Our journey up Kilimanjaro will be a far cry from such an outing: I love to think about the different ways in which I have travelled in my lifetime. The one thing an outing in the Triumph had in common with our proposed trip up Kili was that it was a family undertaking, which generally spanned three generations – and that is something quite special!