I asked my husband David who said, “Crazy but go ahead.”
Next, I asked my daughter Alison who lives in London UK, who had to be involved. “Not crazy, exciting, you should go ahead, plan it,” she said.
So, there it was; would I?
To back track a bit. My youngest child, my son Michael, was coming up, for his 50th birthday. I have always tried to see my children on their birthdays and most years have succeeded.
My son is currently living in Manhattan. He was not due to visit the Toronto office until the new year. I could go to Manhattan.
On his and my usual Saturday morning Facetime call I found out he had a planned business trip and would be in the UK with his wife for his birthday.
They would be attending the annual Christmas party my daughter Alison and husband Brad were holding on Saturday, Dec. 10.
Alison had invited a few relatives and friends of Michael’s as a surprise to help him celebrate.
A few years ago, my husband David had a cousin from Australia visiting the UK, so a reunion lunch was planned with the other cousins, from Minorca, Holland and Wales. They told David they did not expect him but wanted him to know.
He quickly booked a day flight on the Friday to the UK and had a wonderful reunion with cousins over lunch on Saturday before flying home on Sunday.
It was crazy, but it was such a memorable adventure. Maybe I could do that for this occasion.
It's an expensive time of year to fly and arthritis makes travelling challenging for me, so it would be a most unexpected.
Michael is president of Oxford Properties, the company responsible for OMERS pension fund. He does not need gifts; he can buy whatever he wants. Hugs and smiles were to be my birthday gift for him as well as my Christmas gift to other family members I would see.
I booked the trip, left on Thursday night, arriving Friday, Dec. 9, party on Saturday.
Guests included my brother and wife, cousins, nephews, and friends of Brad and Ali’s, all very surprised at my presence. We had kept it secret.
I planned to recover on Sunday, and was due to fly home Monday.
When Michael walked into his sister’s house and saw me, he was indeed surprised. We had a wonderful evening.
On the Sunday my son treated me to afternoon tea at the Savoy Hotel. We walked around the embankment admiring the lights, the tourists; it was so busy, so Christmassy, it was lovely. It all seemed magical.
It was a hectic and busy weekend filled with my grandson's Christmas events which I happily attended, but as I packed on Sunday evening a snowstorm not forecast brought London to a standstill.
England does not do well in snow, lacking the necessary snow-clearing equipment to deal with it. No snow tires, slippery sliding cars causing traffic jams; few snow ploughs, streets too narrow to put removed snow anywhere. Trains were cancelled, runways were closed, buses got stuck.
After an hour of flights waiting for hours at gate for de-icing machines at airports. All major airports were closed, all beyond my control.
That Sunday night at my daughter’s home I could not sleep. Anxious that my return might be delayed for days had not been in the equation when I decided to risk this crazy trip! The song “I’ll be home for Christmas” was what I hoped but now had my doubts.
Come Monday morning airports were re-opened but there were numerous obstacles.
Alison drove me to St. Pancreas station to catch the train to Gatwick for my Air Transat flight. We left early 5:45 a.m. Fortunately there was very little traffic. Once on correct platform one train after another cancelled.
Finally, after much worrying (which didn’t help at all) I arrived at Gatwick. My flight was not cancelled, dozens were. How lucky.
Once aboard our flight was just 15 minutes late in leaving. Great flight, excellent service and I relaxed and enjoyed the club class. All worries were gone until landing in Toronto.
I travel with wheelchair assistance which means first on plane but last off. There were seven wheelchair customers and one attendant.
The system has broken down. By contracting out to several other companies, one to push, another to drive golf cart, with air line and airport staff no longer able to help. All services now subcontracted out to apparently non communicative sources.
The lone attendant would push one of us 200 yards, then go back for the next. It was a farce but none of us were laughing.
Eventually all seven of us were at the spot where a golf cart was supposed to pick us up. None came. Working for a different union, the attendant could not move us and keep her job.
After more than half an hour still no golf cart. I decided to try and walk, by determining to ignore my aching swollen legs. For those less than physically capable it is a long haul to get to ground transportation, where I was to meet Black Car Limos of Waterloo for a ride home.
The journey from disembarking to the limo took longer than the journey home from the airport. What a sense of relief to be greeted by a loving husband who would pick up the pieces! I went early to bed and slept very soundly for over eight hours.
Today I still ache all over, but I am so pleased I persevered. The results were more than worth the money and the energy expended.
The memories of active days seeing two grandsons, two of my three children, my brother and others overcomes any pain. Years after I have gone Michael will say to his sisters “Do you remember that mad trip Mum made for my 50th to hug me.”
We all have good and bad in our lives and as write this I know the bad will fade, my body will recover and the happy memories will prevail, the positive and the love will last, a little magic at Christmas.
Wishing you all a very good holiday season, and maybe a touch of magic if you look carefully enough for it. Happy Christmas. Being back in Cambridge is great.
