January 28

January 28

I took a trip down memory lane today. Back In Penarth after more than two years.

In brilliant winter sunshine I repeated an experience I have cherished over so many years.

It evoked mixed emotions, with surprise and pleasure at Penarth reawakening after many months of pandemic.

There was inevitable nostalgia, touched by sadness at being alone.

First I drove onto the 125year old pier, the domed building, and its multi coloured railings and seats newly painted.

On a dazzlingly bright midwinter afternoon scores of people were enjoying the rare sunshine. On the sheltered western side all the seats were filled with seemingly somnambulant visitors, eyes closed, soaking up the rare warmth.

The tiny sweet shop, once the favourite of my granddaughters Siân and Ria and now Rosa and Claudia, my great granddaughters, masked children were choosing their treats again. There was a mini queue at the one mini shop open on the pier, selling more coffee and even Whitby and chips than today’s too chilly ice cream

Hardy anglers were back, testing their skill and luck.

Turning westward on leaving the pier, within yards I passed Windsor Court, our home for almost twenty years. It was there I felt sadness and loneliness, compensated by realisation of my good fortune in surviving, to start my new life.

Along the Esplanade, avoiding the strollers, many trailing dogs. It was a pleasant surprise to find the local council had kept their promise to me, made three years earlier, to improve the surface. My scooter glided along up the hill to Cliff Walk, past some new startling original luxury homes and past the cafe whereI used to meet Alan, my friend, every Saturday morning.

I drove along the crumbling cliff top, moved yards inland for safety, and on to the ‘end of the line’ for my scooter.

Not so long ago I would spend the afternoon walking along to Lavernock point, the rocky beach, strewn with attractive pink and white alabaster, before climbing up onto the narrow pebbled path and back to tea at Windsor Court.

Today, much less tired thanks to my scooter, I turned towards home. The sky was cloudless, the afternoon sun dazzling. To the east I could  clearly see the Severn bridge and, across the channel Weston-super-mare fourteen miles away.

Then, past my old home, up the sloping Bridgeman Road to my new home, driving my scooter into its shed where I put it on charge for my next venture out.

It had been a familiar journey but a new experience for me.

It marked the change in my phone life after leaving the comfort and security of Sunrise  confirming my view that my life can again be wider and more fulfilling.

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 the comfort of Sunrise

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