Thursday morning, Greg and I headed on a three hour drive up to Maidstone. It was a pretty drive and didn't feel like three hours at all. We passed over the South Downs and through many postcard villages. It was great to start seeing scenery I recognized and finally we were at an old local pub where we were meeting my best friend, Boo. I ran to the car park as I saw her arriving and after many hugs and tears we went inside to catch up on gossip.
We then moved to another local pub to and continued chatting,...
...and then to another pub where we finally had lunch and Greg managed to get a few words in edgeways! Later, we had to drop Boo off at her work where we had more hugs and tears, along with promises not to leave it so long next time. It had been very special seeing her again; we have shared so much together.
Greg and I then headed out of Maidstone and moved on to Wateringbury, 10 miles away, where we spent our later chidhood. Greg lives and works in Malta and had been amazed to find out that his boss's grandmother lived in the Railway House in Wateringbury, asking him if he could possibly see her and take some photos of her house. Greg had been to the house the week before but no one had been home, so we were going again.
We arrived late afternoon so after finding the house empty again, we hit the local pub for a swift pint. We waited until after 6:30pm to see if someone would turn up, but unfortunately we never got to meet the grandmother, but did take plenty of photos of the house. The doubledecker buses are going to Malta for tourists to ride round the island.
During the drive back down to Dorset, we passed crowds of people in villages heading towards their village greens or fields as tonight was Guy Fawkes Night. The skies were lit up with fireworks as we passed through the towns.
Friday was my last full day in England and we would spend the day with Mum & Dad. Dad insisted that we all go to a local pub which served fabulous fish and chips. To ensure I would appreciate lunch fully, I asked Louise at the B&B to let me have just a bacon sandwich for breakfast instead of the usual Gut Buster. That was a good move.
Unfortunately, I had already attacked my plate before Greg reminded me that a photo of the food might be in order. I managed to sneak Dad into the background of the image. Once I'd taken the photo, I became increasingly aware that this could be the last meal we would all spend together and I found it very difficult to sit and chat casually. I was glad when we left and I managed to regain control by feigning interest in the passing scenery out of the car window.
I spent the evening with Dad watching a DVD of Catherine Jenkins, a Welsh singer he admired. I didn't like her as much as Sarah Brightman, but made sure that I was always attentive as I sensed that Dad was wanting to share something he liked with me, and it was important for us to have this shared memory. I have a feeling that I will listen to her more in the future.
The next morning I had to say goodbye to Dad, which, quite frankly, was impossible to do. I promised to return in January, hoping that this would give Dad something to look forward to, but knowing that it gave me something to cling to also. The look over my shoulder as I left was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
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