Dipidydoo is on the road again!  The Debbie and Ian half took flight for the UK, and the Pete and Ilze half will be heading to other far-flung parts of the world in the near future. Our paths don’t cross on these trips, but our timings overlap a little. So you will hear from all of us at various times.

It seemed like a good idea at the time – when it came to booking our flights, we noticed that the 2.30am departure was significantly cheaper than our usual 9.30pm flight to Europe via Dubai.  So we signed up – how bad could it be?  I tried not to think about it too much over the ensuing months, but I did find myself questioning our sanity on more than one occasion.  Ian will talk more about the pros and cons, but suffice to say, we survived three 7-hour flights relatively unscathed.  There was a slight panic involving “someone” misreading the departure time of the final flight (I blame sleep deprivation), resulting in an unnecessary panic about missing the connection, but otherwise all went smoothly.

In a more sensible decision, we’d booked ourselves a night at the Gatwick Hilton Hotel, rather than attempt to travel further afield after spending 30 hours flying. This turned out to be an excellent choice.  We landed early, breezed through passport control in record time (I love e-gates!), picked up luggage, took the monorail to the south terminal, and followed signs to the hotel.  We were in our room about an hour after landing, and were showered and sound asleep shortly thereafter.  We’d been well fed on the flights, so we didn’t even need dinner.  The shower was very simple to operate, which suited our brain fogged state.

Vaguely refreshed, this morning we took to the rails, to travel to Southampton.  The UK rail network cops a lot of criticism, but our trains both ran on time, and were clean and comfortable.  The first one, to Clapham Junction, was packed with Wimbledon-goers.  The second train was practically empty, and we relaxed and watched the rural scenery of southern England go by.

We alighted at Southampton Central, and navigated to our apartment. It’s right in the centre of the city, and conveniently located very close to the big Westquay shopping centre.  The sun was shining, and we were warmer than we’ve been in weeks.  We were feeling cheerful and rather pleased with life in general.  Just as we opened the entry door, I noticed a group of people in bright purple outfits, setting themselves up at the end of our street for some sort of performance.  “Oh good”, I thought, “maybe we’ll get some nice music on this pleasant Sunday afternoon”.  Umm, not exactly.  They began extolling the virtues of religion, in VERY SHOUTY VOICES.  Our apartment windows don’t quite close, and were not up to the job of blocking out the annoying racket.  We thought they might run out of steam, but two hours later, they were still going strong, despite general disinterest from anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

We retreated to the supermarket for some peace and quiet.  There, we found an entire aisle of “free from” foods, so shopping was quick and easy (yes, really!)  On return, we turned the TV up very loudly, to drown out the last hour of the ranting. Mercifully they’ve stopped now, only to be replaced by chanting and singing football fans getting themselves warmed up for tonight’s Euro final, being livestreamed from the pub up the road. We could be in for a disturbed sleep, especially if England win. We may be the only people in the UK who are planning to watch the broadcast of the Vienna Summer Concert at 8pm.

It’s weird, but every time I come to the UK, I get a strong sensation that I’m returning home. This has happened ever since my first trip here in 1978, and I felt it again as we came in to land over the chequerboard fields and hedges. It’s not the familiarity of language or culture, because I don’t get the same feeling in New Zealand, for example. I can only put it down to ancestral roots, which go way back on both sides of my family. Over the next couple of days, we’ll be exploring those roots a little, as we head to the Somerset coal mining town of Paulton, just south of Bath.