Earlier This year DH and I went to Prague for a few nights. Another venue to tick off the bucket list. There are so many places I want to see and time is running out – not to mention that the money has already run out.
I’d been fantasising about spending a week there as so many people had told us it was so pretty, but DH found a ridiculously cheap four-day trip which included flights and hotel. I honestly don’t know how they can offer so much for comparatively little money.
Having quickly checked there was no revolution brewing, or recent invasion, I rushed off to pack my suitcase.
Considering I’m a dummy when it comes to techie stuff, I’m an expert on organising. I have a file of lists on my laptop – equipment to pack for hot, cold, warm and in-between weather. It cross checks with lists for a weekend, four to five days and longer trips.
What is more, it’s colour coded too. (Yes, I can hear your gasps of admiration from here)
Orange donates what I will carry in my handbag, pockets etc.
Blue donates what goes into the big suitcase
Green is for the contents in the carry- on bag.
And there is a sub total in purple for all the things that need to go into that little plastic zip-lock bag I will waggle at the customs men.
On our last few trips I’ve been pulled over every time for extra surveillance. I’ve no idea why and I could get paranoid about it. I’ve stared very hard into the mirror and honestly I don’t think I look like a drug dealer or any kind of criminal come to that.
As I pack, I cross off each item on the list only highlighting stuff that gets put in last minute.
In the meantime, DH casually throws a few things into his case and gives me one of ‘those’ looks and he’s ready to go.
So, next Monday we will set off for Prague.
Isabella of Spain
There is a lot of fuss about who should be the next king, with everyone taking sides. The next marriage proposal for Isabella is Don Pedro Giron – he would be politically perfect for one faction. He is old, and revolting and once slobbered all over Isabella’s mother – that is conveniently forgotten.
There could still be a small problem, as Don Pedro is the Grand Master of the Order of Calatrava and sworn to celibacy, but everyone knows he’s a notorious lecher. He’s also considered vindictive and vain. It will require a dispensation from the Pope too. But that arrives just in time as the marriage is organised with indecent haste. How is poor Isabella going to get out of this one?
Pic above is the order of Calatrava and the one on the right the pope at that time.
When we started traveling and living overseas in the 1970’s things were very different.
There was no internet – so no Skype, no FaceTime, no WhatsApp and no emails. Communication was by mail – real old fashioned letters composed on real paper with a real pen and folded into envelopes – followed by a trip to the post office, to buy stamps and pop the envelope in the box. Then you had to wait.
Sometimes the letters would not be delivered, or take 3 – 4 weeks in each direction. Questions asking how you were recovering from the flu were so out of date you’d forgotten having had the flu.
Phone calls were astronomically expensive and you had to book them in advance. To make sure the family were at home to take the call, you needed to write weeks in advance and wait for the return letter to arrange the time.
Few of us had phones in the house. So, that often meant a trip to the office to make the call.
This map might give you some idea of distances.
It was difficult for family at home to see how big the grandchildren had grown and often birthday and Christmas gifts were aimed at a lower age group.
Most of us got to go home for a couple of weeks every year, others only got leave every two years. While it was great to see friends and family it didn’t take long to realise you were no longer on the same page – as Amie found out on her trip back home. (to be continued)
Till next time, take care.