Hemel, Brooklands and tears

The title of this entry sums up the weekend that I've just had. I should have suspected that I wasn't my normal self when I managed to overshoot the turning to the services on the A41. Mainly because I was too intent on proving to some fool in an under-powered Vauxhall Corsa that he shouldn't try taking on a 1.6 Peugeot 206 - especially when it's in sports mode!

So, me being me, decided to see if there was another turn, and called my friend to say that I thought I'd over shot the turn. Which as it turned out I had done and will freely admit to muttering all kinds of unkind things about wrong directions and things like that.

Thankfully, my friend was a real darling, and met me in Hemel and guided me home -via the local chip shop for dinner!

His family were really pleasant, and we sat chatting about family, friends and common interests, and I will admit to being only too glad to get some sleep - even if it was on the sofa, as I was knackered.

Saturday morning seemed to come all too soon, and my friend scared the hell out of me by touching the back of my hand... I will admit to jumping and I think it took him by surprise, but I had been out for the count!

We headed to Brooklands, and I will admit to feeling slightly unsettled. Why, I have no idea, but in hindsight, I guess that it was because I knew in the back of my mind that this was a place that I'd wanted to visit with Dad, and would never get the chance to do so.

There were some beautiful cars there, and more to the point, several exhibts that I was determined to see - including the Concorde that was being restored. The tail was stood on several truck tyres, and one of the volunteers said that the restoration should be finished by July this year.

We also watched the cars going up the Brooklands test hill - including one brave soul in a Fiat 500 - complete with a trailer!

Then, Sunday it was a trip to the gallery where my friend gets most of his beautiful WWII aircraft prints. I was ok until I saw the Concorde print, complete with the signatures of the respective captains. That just opened the floodagtes, and I burst into tears. I couldn't help it - the memories that had been stirred up by my trip to Brooklands (where Dad started his apprenticeship) and seeing the print was the straw that broke the tigger.

My friend was a real angel, and did his best to help me, but I know that he wasn't sure what he could do to help me, which seemed to really upset him.

The trouble was, there wasn't a damned thing that anyone could do to help me - I know this time of year is not good for me, as I tend to go to pieces at the slightest thing, and in hindsight, I should have perhaps warned him that I was fragile...

Guess I should call this entry quits - I've got to make peace with the furry fiends, who are both giving me the evil eye as I've had the nerve to leave them for a couple of days...

Back when I get the chance - or more to the point, if I'm still in one piece from the fiends!

Karen
Learning to fly, but I don't have wings