No. 5 Coincidence and the Complications of World Travel with a Very Large Suitcase

Most of us know that the world is full of coincidences.   Our son Jon married Charlotte Butler and our daughter Alex married Craig Butler (no relation to one another initially, though they are now related of course).   Charlie left Butlerdom behind and became a Cuthbert, and Alex left Cuthbert and became a Butler.   So they did a name swap and we have the same name combination that we started with.    Well, I think it is interesting!

So, after three weeks with the Butlers in Brentwood, we (my very large suitcase and I) set off for Bristol to visit the Cuthberts, junior branch, on the first leg of a journey that would also take me to Buckinghamshire, Hampshire and Richmond, London.   It was my first long journey, and involved several stages, and lots of stairs – lots and lots of stairs.   To my delight, I have found that the combination of a very large suitcase and a mature woman brings out the gallantry in both men and women.   I have hardly had to struggle of my own – others have rushed to struggle with me.   I met a very nice young man at Paddington Station who was overjoyed to carry my suitcase up stairs, over a bridge, and down yet more stairs to my platform.   It made his day he said, as most of his offers to help people are refused.   He was very moved so we had a little talk about how media reporting can add to our fear of others, especially in underground stations, and that he shouldn’t take it personally.   He seemed much cheered and I felt that I had compensated him somewhat for his back injury.

This success at counselling doesn’t quite make up for the pangs of guilt I have felt in similar encounters on my travels.   Those unwary people who have offered to help me with what they imagine to be a normal suitcase, have come to discover that it isn’t what it seems.   It reminds me of those candid camera TV programmes  or the modern equivalent, mobile phone set ups, where a scene can look quite normal, but proves anything but, inevitably leads to confusion, embarrassment, or pain.  I have always felt uncomfortable watching those, and my entire sympathies are with the victims, and now I find that I am the cause!   This will take much remedial thought and energy.

No. 4 Tortoises, Snails and Embracing the Life of a Nomad

As a tortoise or a snail has its shell, so I have my suitcase.   It represents my home from home and (most) of what I need to survive as a nomad.   A lot of planning went into my suitcase, and this becomes obvious when you try to lift it.    Having to organise four months of traveling to and fro from relatives, friends and housesits, I knew that I needed to prepare, and pack, for every eventuality.   Unfortunately, every eventuality wouldn’t fit into my suitcase, large and handsome though it is.   I stacked, packed, unpacked, and repacked half a dozen times and, after much agonising, finally sacrificed five kilos of precious cargo before Air NZ would allow my suitcase, with a large HEAVY label attached, on the plane.

I have given myself therapy and come to the conclusion that my somewhat large suitcase contains my attempts at re-creating the familiar and workable structures I enjoy at home and possibly subconscious (unconscious?) efforts to control my shifting day to day environment, so that I can keep track of what’s going on.   Sometimes, this works, and other times it doesn’t, and I can very easily tell the difference.   On another level, can it possibly be an attempt to carry my past life with me?   I think this needs more thought, and possibly more intensive therapy!