SCILLY TIMES
Chris and Simon recall Ingo's first holiday beyond the UK mainland
In June 2001 we went away together for a week's holiday in the Scilly
Isles. We took the train all the way to Penzance from Leamington, to keep
the cost down. This was a seven and a half hour journey. On the train
Ingo kept going, and kept us going, until the last half hour when he thankfully
fell asleep. He had been awake for eight hours, a long time when you're
little over a year old.
On the way South West Ingo enjoyed cruising the aisles, saying 'da!'
as he passed the elbows and curious, sometimes friendly glances of the passengers.
Chris and Simon took turns to feel quasy and bleary as we were all suffering
from a tummy bug - wind, nausea and the dreaded trots. We feared the worst
for Ingo - changing a messy nappy on the train was not something we relished
doing - however in the event Ingo did not poop for two days (though then
it was eeeevil!!). Simon held out till day 2. The results were vast, pale
yellow, amorphous, and needed seven flushes. Such things become preoccupations
on family holidays. Just be glad we didn't get a picture. ;-)
Anyhow, we were collected in a smart bus soon after arrival at Penzance
and driven to Land's End aerodrome, where a flight had been laid on for
us. Chris had to restain Ingo, perched on her lap in the cramped cabin,
as he stretched forward, fascinated by the red emergency handle on the
pilot's door, little more than a foot in front of him. Think of a single
bed with seats for eight people, and you've some idea of the internal layout
of a Britten-Norman Islander aircraft. Eventually Ingo contented himself
with pulling on the straps of the pilot's harness. She was very patient...
Ingo was not remotedly fazed by the flight, Chris survived and Simon loved
it, and we reached the Scillies early in the evening, where a minimalist
minibus was waiting to ferry us to our holiday flat. This was at Maypole,
about as far from civilisation as it's possible to get in the Scillies -
about half an hour's walk, at most, from the main town, and fifteen minutes
from the beach in three directions.
Ingo enjoyed listening to music on Chris's CD Walkman, using Simon's
headphones. There are many other things we enjoyed, and a few we did not
- this web page can only mention a fraction of the holiday, but hopefully
it gives some idea of what happened. A lot of the pictures taken at the time
have not yet been scanned, and we may update this page when that's been
done - but don't count on it. The best way to find out more is to visit
us in Warwick, where you can see the photos, or go to the Scilly Isles yourself.
One day the collapsible pushchair collapsed more than intended in the
town, shedding two wheels and a chunk of its undercarriage, but Simon took
the bits to a hardware shop, bought a washer, a nut and a woodscrew for
a total of six pence, borrowed a screwdriver to put it all back together
and three months later it's all holding together perfectly despite heavy
use ever since - it often carries often more than both of us can.
We visited a couple of other islands, particularly enjoying the quiet,
privately-owned island of Tresco, formerly site of the monastery, now
gardens open to the public, where we found two almost empty beaches. Ingo
went to sleep on one, and had his first ride in the back of a bike, when
we hired cycles and a child seat. This led us to buy one of our own after
we got back to Warwick. The short boat trips between the islands made a
fine boundary between our excursions.
By the end of the week we were in the swing of the holiday and well set to
stay another week, but Coventry NHS and Amiga Inc demanded otherwise -
though we recommend the experience as a wonderful compromise between going
abroad and staying in the UK. It had taken a few days for our guts to settle
down, and we had trouble once with noisy neighbours - most uncommon for
the Scilly Isles - which Simon put a stop to with a visitation in the
small hours and follow-up call to the letting agent. It did not happen again,
and we're glad to report Ingo slept through the entire incident.
The return journey was not without incident - when we reached the airstrip
St. Marys was fog-bound and no flights were operating, on or off the islands.
One plane set out an hour later from Lands End, but had to turn back,
and it was clear that we were not going to make our railway conection
at Penzance. By mid-day there was a helicopter in operation, and we were
told that we'd be squeezed onto that instead of the scheduled plane, which
excited Chris but not Simon, who reckons the wings aren't held on properly.
Just before we tested this theory, two Islanders managed to find their way
through the clouds and so we caught the expected aircraft, albeit three
hours later than planned.
On arrival at Penzance after the connecting bus we found a train waiting
at the station, stalled because of an electrical fault in the buffet car.
Eventually the operators decided to run it anyway, and give away crisps
and cans to passengers, which suited us fine as it made its delayed departure
shortly after we got there. It limped to Reading where our connecting service
was long gone but we changed to an unannounced, unscheduled test run of
one of the new Virgin trains, on its way to Leamington.
The train was very clean and smart, with a luxurious baby-changing area
with a curved automatic door. Some of the other automatic services were
misconceived - the headphone sockets by each seat delivered Radio 1 out
of tune on the Radio 4 channel, overlaid with grossly distorted whistling
announcements, and the electronic doors between carriages were so slow
that Simon found it far quicker to leave the train and walk along the platform
than to work his way through the train, on returning to the carriage with
a baguette.
The holiday was momentous from a transport point of view, as Ingo travelled
on half a dozen boats, four taxis, two planes, three trains (for a total
15 hours by rail) but most significantly he set out a keen crawler, capable
of only two or three steps, and returned confident in walking unaided (with
the occasional Maggie Simpson pratfall). He loved the sea, sand, shells
and beaches, and the wonderful gardens of St. Marys and Tresco, as did his
parents. We're saving up to go again.