Clots, plots and culture shocks.

 So, Ashley Banjo, nephew of my nemesis, has performed on Strictly, this week he has also sat on the Morning sofa, talking about how being human is even more important than dancing and I have held my tongue. But today, sitting next to Rav Wilder who was talking about measures to prevent scams. It was just too much for me not to want to say,  Rav look no further than the guy next to you for clues.   I know Ashley Banjo is not his uncle, and he always seems a nice person, and he is a brilliant dancer.  But making moral claims whilst not dobbing in his close family members grates.    It is not the only thing grating at present but as that is closer to h ome. I will say no more.  

I have spent the day back at the hospital and I am relieved to say I do not have a blood clot about to cut off my life.   There were moments I really thought I was gone, so it is nice to know I can get on with life. . I just wish I did not feel so rough still. The doctor says I am still recovering from my 7 weeks away.  But I loved being away, most of the time it was brilliantly warm. The only exception to that was Melbourne.  

I managed to catch up with my nephew for a meal after his work, in the hope it would warm us up,  and with my honorary nephew and his wife for an evening drink,  after their work.  Then the last day I spent with DP, (his daughter and grandson)   a sort of honarary cousin who I have known since I was a kid, from when his family returned from living in Australia.  I have had Christmases with them, been on holiday with them, in my youth,  I have been out to Berlin twice to catch up with him and his family  and it is always full on, so this last day despite my attempt to sort of make it manageable it was always going to be a little out there.    It featured the Puffing Billy,  a train, which I am glad I did not have a ticket for, but which I watched go off in puff of smoke,  a milk bar, which his family had run and a long walk in the pouring rain to the house they had grown up in.  Given his daughter is pregnant and had her young son with her, she did a much better job than me,  up hill and then down hill just ploughing on despite the distance. I was genuinely worried I was going to run out of steam,  and was without a bus or train, to help me,  so I headed back, to the little town at the edge of Melbourne, until they caught up with me and we could have cake and tea.  They meanwhile knocked on the door of the house in which he had lived as a child, and were allowed into have a look around and go down memory lane.  I have no idea when we will meet again , I got grumpy, I got wet, but it was everything I expected it to be and I would not have missed it for the world.   They are now planning to stay in Australia and make a new future, for the grandchildren. 

Puffing Billy.