London arrival

Arrived in London yesterday and goodness me, the walk from the arrival gate to customs and baggage retrieval is so long it makes you want to set up camp half way and tackle customs tomorrow. As I was attempting the hundred mile track I realised that I’m not a visitor. I’m going to make the UK my home. That got me thinking about the last time England was home to me.

My parents were both Brits, but they met in Whangarei so when I was 4 they decided to take the bairns ‘home’ so we could know our roots. We lived with my Nana Ritson and as I walked with the other passengers, memories came flooding back: blackberry picking in the fields below our garden, Nana’s Blackberry & apple pie, spring bluebells in the woods at the end of our road, playing with the Darlington kids who lived down the other end of the road, school lunches 10p a week, banana sandwiches for supper (my sister told Nana she liked banana sandwiches so every school day, for 2 years, we had banana sandwiches for supper!), lemonade and crisps with a little blue bag of salt at the local pub, a white Christmas and slipping on the ice, freezing Guy Fawks night with jacket potatoes on the bonfire and negotiating what I thought was a fair trade with the rag and bone man – my mother’s best dress for a balloon. All these memories whilst walking with the other passengers.

After 2 years of living with my nana, my parents decided to move to Australia so here we are, at the end of the road with our suitcases, with Nana who had come to say goodbye. The bus arrives. I get a sense of panic as I realise that I won’t see my nana again and she will be all alone. So I sit. On a suitcase. And won’t budge. The drama! Bus waiting, parents distraught, passengers in the bus watching and me telling my parents that I’m not going. I’m going to live with Nana. I can’t remember how they got me on the bus, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.

So as I was walking along with my memories, looking for a place to set up camp, I swear I could smell banana sandwiches and I had a strong sense that my Nana Ritson was walking beside me and welcoming me ‘home’. And it confirmed that I am doing the right thing.