The Loneliness of a Long Distance Grandfather.

The Loneliness of a Long Distance Grandfather is not an easy occupation. I am not unique; there are many members of this special club, with a membership that is graded from Newby to Hall of Fame.

Most days I, GrandPa(UK), keep myself amused with various tasks to help pass the long days of forced retirement.

Most days (& nights) I have got this routine down pat. Today was different.
I fell out of bed around 4 in the morning & said to myself, ” Mr Flipping Amazing, you’ve made another day”. (That F word has been edited for the more sensitive readers?) And so the routine started.

Well, today was a train wreck. A Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang without a driver. A Flossie without a pilot, heading for a mother of all tailspins. A sailor believing he had a master mariner’s ticket, approaching an unknown port.
Are you still with me?

Well, for reasons beyond my ability, the meds did not work & the routine refused point blank to stabilise, no matter how much Boem, Chardonnay or other elixirs of life I tried. In fact, it was the Chardonnay, a rather pleasant grape variety from the Cape of Storms that caused the most damage. No reflection on the vintners expertise!

There I was, minding my own business, reading about Faith & her thespian exploits on FB, when I decided to check whether the chardonnay was ‘corked‘ or not. Actually it was a screw cap, so I guess I was testing whether it was screwed or not?

I soon reached the stage of – my ou maagie voel so warm – a contented tummy & believe me that takes some doing with my present girth!

There was much to think about. A recent suggestion by my darling niece, Cathy, ably supported by my daughter Barbara & a few other stirrers, broached the subject of getting this old man, the aforementioned GrandPa(UK), to come & visit the grandsons in South Africa.

That is all Sub Judice at the moment. For three reasons; the obvious one(?); will the medical profession allow me to travel & if I did go, would I really want to come back to the UK? Oh & yes, would Rolaine want to join me on this escapade? That was close! That’s the problem with living alone, one’s mind tends to forget certain things.

Now I know the old doc is going to ask whether I will be swimming, flying, cruising or what. She really is a fabulous doctor, with illusions of what I am capable of achieving. My B-in-L, Rob, who is a marvelous motivator would say skies the limit. Ja Boet?

Without getting into the financial aspects, I started thinking about what mode of transport.
Flying was the quickest & they had some rather nice staff on board, of both persuasions & an interesting wine list. It is only 6022 miles / 9692 Kilometres / 5233 nautical miles to Cape Town.
I suppose if I asked nicely, my good friend with his own plane, John T, could make a slight detour?
Then there is the cruising bit, but it is a tad longer, some 29 odd days & a wine list that would cause me to end up in the drunk tank in Cape Town!

A side thought. Clifford has this rather lekker boat, but I heard he is busy killing the big ones off PE lately. What about Jeremy, he has some experience on the South American route?

Decisions, decisions. At the very least, I think this diatribe should be posted on my blog. What do you think?
The midnight hour has come & gone & it is time to sleep, perchance to dream?

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