Liz’s Story

I step out barefoot into the garden to another day of brilliant sunshine. The cloudless sky is once again Covid Blue – the new colour I have invented to describe the beauty of the sky no longer marred by vapour trails from aircraft.

I am greeted by warm sun on my face and the wonderful sound of birdsong; the silence of the traffic-free road outside making this even more noticeable. Suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of a blackbird, not just any blackbird but one with a distinctive song which has returned again for the third year running.

The blue of the sky is echoed in the haze of blue from the bluebells, bursting out amongst the trees at the bottom of the garden. Dotted around in the grass I see daisies, primrose, violets, forget-me-nots and even lady’s smock, taking me back to my childhood in rural Yorkshire where picking bunches of wild flowers was an everyday part of Spring.

Using my newly-acquired smart phone I attempt to photograph a robin, taking up classic poses on the handle of the fork and the runner bean wigwam. But he seems to be playing “catch me if you can” and always flies off at the last minute.

I have more success with a butterfly clinging to the warm fence, its wings folded against the wind. My patience is rewarded when these move, tentatively at first, but eventually open wide to display the beautiful colours of the peacock.

But now I must venture from the safety of the garden to get some exercise. I walk tentatively down the footpath, scuttling off onto the grass whenever someone approaches less than two metres away. I feel on edge in this seemingly dystopian landscape, the anticipated pleasure of being part of the outside world marred by a feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach from fear of picking up the virus.

My steps quicken as I get nearer home. I open the gate and breathe a sigh of relief, my body relaxing to be back once more in the peace and safety of my garden.

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Jenny’s Story

When we were on a planned 3 month 23,000 mile round trip from from Toronto across the South and back up the West coast and across Rockies to include a trip down to Mexico City and to  Acapulco. After recovering lost paperwork we crossed the border, spent a brilliant few days in Mexico City and on the way down to Acapulco, which involves a severe drop in altitude. This affected  our dear old  big white Ford Comet with red leather upholstery and full seat across front and rear ideal for sleeping in an emergency! We suddenly came to a grinding halt  in the middle of nowhere!  Patrick had the bonnet up and could do nothing - but wait and pray

 We had not seen a car on the road. My husband lifted the bonnet and threw his arms up in despair, he really was pretty upset as he realised pretty quickly the alternator had gone and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, there wasn’t a town for miles and we had no idea how we were going to repair the car. The part that  still gives me a warm feeling and makes me smile Inside  was when it seemed  out of nowhere as it was a very deserted flat area,  we saw this beautiful gold Rolls Royce appear and to our amazement stop.

This gorgeous man got out, he was tall,  handsome and we found charming. He said get in the car, I’ll drive you to the local town and I’ve got some mechanics down there. He gave us his card, he lived in Mexico City and his name was Solomon King which seemed surreal to us. We did visit him when we went back. He sent his mechanic whilst ordering us coffee and the most amazing American breakfast and saved us from an impossible situation. We were positively overwhelmed and felt  like jumping for joy when he said he would help us. 

We were  amazed then at our good fortune , that someone could be so kind and helpful,  we were so very grateful - that was 1970 – they were very different times.  

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