I am Steve McQueen

We made it. I’m writing this on Gulf Aiir, flight something or other, currently 40,000 feet above Bonn. I’m guessing if we had window seats were be able to see a pretty empty River Rhine, with a long line of barges stuck in the mud. My conscience isn’t clear (obviously) as we’re contributing to global warming by flying to Saudi. But needs must. And this morning’s two hour trek through Terminal 4 cemented my very clear belief that C and I should only fly when absolutely necessary. Book-in was slow. Security no better. We were three hours early and we still didn’t have time for a relaxed cup of coffee. But … the three of us, plus Henry, made it.

Where’s my bike and the fence?

And it’s not been without trauma which, when you add to the previous x weeks of tragedy, has left us a little bit traumatized and in need of a break.

Mum has settled back in her own home. And yes, it’s the right decision. The carers have, so far, failed to put a foot wrong (I had an email from them this morning – a Saturday). And she seems to like them. But every phone call I have has been laced with a little bit of upset. Most concerning for me was that she has tried to get in touch with her previous carers to do her shopping, something I’m not keen on. I think it’s a control thing. Whatever it is, it’s frustrating when we have a plan in place and the previous crew have been poor and expensive (and contractless – it was all cash in hand), a concern when mum is so vulnerable. I get that she misses her routine. But I’m confident the new regime is so much safer. Anyhow, we seen to have made it to somewhere which, at the moment, works for all of us – just in time for C and I to get on the plane …

this was the only time he was happy during the whole process

… which wasn’t a certainty for other reasons. Bex got her visa sorted and flew back yesterday (we couldn’t sort it so we could fly out with Henry; the via situation in Saudi is v complex). But, alas, he fell ill on Tuesday. He had a continuous high temperature, kept down with Calpol, was moany and off his food (which was v unlike him). On Thursday night C and I were discussing whether he should fly or not. And whether Bex should turn around and give us a week to get him better, knowing we had British healthcare on hand. At one point I was close to taking him into A&E. 

Covid was a possibility. (We’ve been vaxxed, had it in June, and Henry has had it at least once.) I took a test, (if he had it, so did I) which was negative, so we assumed it was just a heavy cold. Thankfully on Friday morning when Bex turned up his temperature had broken and, whilst he still not right, the worst seems to be over. Phew.

So we struggled with a sick child to Mary’s where a bigger house was welcome relief. But it wasn’t until yesterday morning that we began to think that Henry might be safe to travel. And here we are …

Not so happy to see mum initially

… with the additional good news that Henry’s nanny in Riyadh starts tomorrow! I have no idea what that will look like. But it does seem possible that once she’s in her stride, C and I might have a slab of time without responsibilities. Now wouldn’t that be great?

Stay safe everyone. My next post will likely be focused on the dry heat of Arabian desert. But if that’s all I’ve got to moan about …