Dear Family and Friends  

Thank the Lord, Jay decided not to buy the 40 acres up the lake. (For details see 2008 post.) However, a couple of days ago, I heard his voice spark with interest as his visiting physiotherapist mentioned that she might be selling her house down the lake. Ah, yes. His visiting physiotherapist, you ask?

It all started in January, when I went off to London for a week to celebrate my birthday. I was sitting in a lovely restaurant with my family and friends and one of them asked me whether Jay was planning to break anything else this year. I roared with laughter, and said “No chance,” knowing he had made a bet with his personal trainer that he wouldn’t - and he never loses a bet. As I was uttering these words, Jay was back in New Hampshire, falling off a snowmobile and stopping his onward flight by hitting a fairly sturdy sapling with his knee. It stopped his onward flight, all right.

Here is Fred demonstrating how to do a wheelie and still stay on the snowmobile...

When I got back from Las Vegas to chilly New Hampshire - Oh, I forgot. It was my 60^th birthday (some mistake surely) and in an effort to cheer me up, my daughter Helenka had arranged a girl’s weekend in Las Vegas, with Jay’s sister Judy (whose birthday is two days after mine) and her daughter Laurie. We were there to see Bette Midler, a busty American chanteuse who’s been a favourite of mine for years, and to win a lot of money. Bette Midler cancelled on the night of the show, but I did win some money. Three dollars, to be precise, which was almost enough to buy me a cup of coffee in the casino. I worked out the system, though. I put the coins into the one arm bandit in front of me, and Judy took them out of the machine next to mine.

Meanwhile, back in chilly New Hampshire, Jay was staring moodily out at the magnificent view and contemplating spending the next few weeks recovering from surgery while tethered to the house. It wasn’t long before he was accompanying me to the supermarket, where he took to driving those electric chair things at very high speeds around the shop. I followed in his wake, apologising and explaining that this was the kind of driving that had caused the accident in the first place…

He decided we should venture further afield. After rejecting Montreal, (close, but icy) we settled on Bermuda, (close-ish, but warmer). 

 

Rush hour on Lake Sunapee – they actually built a road…

 

                      Rush hour in Bermuda – that’s Bertie on the right

 

 

 I popped back to London in April and May. Just for laughs, and to see my mother, 89, and still driving, cooking, running errands and the Liberal Party single-handed. I  arrived back home to find we were leaving again for Jay’s 55^th class reunion at his prep school, Andover. In July, we travelled to Los Angeles, for a wedding and a trip up the coast to Oregon. The wedding was like something from an American film - outdoor ceremony, followed by dancing under the stars and a terrific firework show (it being July 4^th).  Having persuaded Jay that we really didn’t need to buy Hearst Castle, we drove north to Big Sur, a place we had visited over a quarter of a century ago. We came across Nepenthe, a restaurant where we’d eaten, and Jay remarked chummily to the maitre d’ “We had a reservation here 28 years ago.” Without missing a beat the man replied: “So you finally showed up, did you?” Nice to know they remembered us…

And here we are, still waiting for a table...

Onward to visit more friends in the Napa Valley, California’s famous wine-growing area. Don and Nina live in the middle of a vineyard (or so it appeared to us), and generously shepherded us around to wonderful art collections and a funny little place in a garage which sold hand pressed (or something) olive oils and vinegars. They recommended a small but charming hotel for our next night. It was perched on a cliff near Montecito, and the views were stunning. I wish I could say the same for the foghorn out in the bay. It blared every three minutes all night long, but failed to stun me. Jay snored peacefully through it. Finally, in desperation, I found my recording of some waves (supposed to help me relax) and listened to the sound of a fake ocean until I finally fell asleep. We are still speaking to Don and Nina…just.

A day later, we were in Oregon, having checked out the California redwoods on the way. Here’s a picture of Jay holding up one of the trees - a mere sapling by comparison with some of its older relatives.

 

On the Oregon coast, I had to restrain Jay again (I should travel with handcuffs, really) from riding up and down their enormous sand dunes on a tiny tractor known as an ATV (all terrain vehicle)The tiny speck on the right is how Jay saw himself, but he settled, after I threatened to damage his other knee,  for a ride in a kind of land rover, driven by a former marine. That was terrifying enough.

 

We got back in one piece, thank goodness, and Jay started planning his next trip, to Quebec City, where he’d been thousands of years ago. This time, Fred and I accompanied him, while Bertie stayed in New Hampshire, relaxing after a strenuous vacation with his friends in North Carolina. Quebec was delightful, now designated a World Heritage site, so that the old town can’t be changed. The Quebecois were celebrating their 400^th anniversary (it’s one of the oldest cities in North America), and the streets were full of people dressed in 17^th century clothes. We saw one family, dressed in their finery, eating pizza in a very 21^st century café. A magnificent Native American headdress in a shop window caught Jay’s eye, but I persuaded him that it might lead to comment in downtown New Hampshire. As for the (real) bear skin with savage teeth, I pointed out that our dog Dougal would probably have a heart attack if forced to cohabit with it.

Autumn saw the boys, Fred and Bertie, head off to college. Fred went back to the University of Connecticut, where he is now starring in the Formula one racing club, where they build a racing car and then race it against other university teams. He’s also the tallest member of the Korean club which he joined (he says) to practise the language, but I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that there are lots of interesting Korean girls there.

Bertie went cheerfully off to enormous Boston University, having decided in favour of that instead of the very rural University of Vermont. He was all set to study neuroscience, but phoned me on the first day of term to ask if it would be OK if he took astronomy instead. Apparently he decided that he’d always hated chemistry, and realised there would be much too much of it if he wanted to be a brain surgeon. 

 And Jay and I were off again. This time to England for the wedding of my oldest friends’ daughter. It was another perfect wedding - small country church, smashing marquee with dancing. The bridegroom was on crutches, with a broken leg. Jay was delighted to compare notes on the various sporting activities which accounted for their war wounds. I think he felt his injury put him in with the “in” crowd (or whatever they’re called these days). This wedding ended in fireworks, too - must be a trend.

 I have been trying to write in my spare time and leisure moments, and had a story published in the San Antonio Review. I also won a local poetry contest, much to my surprise, since this was the first poem I’d written since I was a love-struck 16-year-old.

And so back to the beginning. Jay had his whole knee replaced in November, a week before Thanksgiving, and now, having sorted out all his current business affairs (yes, he’s still working) he’s staring moodily out at a magnificent view of falling snow and wondering how soon he’ll be able to go out on a snowmobile again. As if….. Luckily, Christmas will cheer him up, since we’ll be hosting all the children and grandchildren over the holidays (Not all at once! I’m good but not that good!)

Here’s wishing you a very Merry Christmas, and a year to remember for all the right reasons in 2010.