Sunday, October 26, 2014

Tricia McGill—there’s no place like home.



Or is there? 

It occurred to me lately that I live in a very confined area. I don’t drive distances as I once did, and tend to stay nearer home. A lot of this is due perhaps because the roads aren’t like they used to be in what us older people refer to as “the good ol’ days”. I’ve towed an 18 foot caravan around Australia when my husband had to give up driving after one of his early strokes, but as much as I would love to take off, and still envy folk who take to the highways and byways of this beautiful country I call home, I couldn’t stand the hectic pace on the roads these days.

My pondering came about after reading Sandy’s post of a day or so ago when I commented that if I returned to my hometown I’d be hard-pressed after so many years to find more than about six people apart from family and a few friends who would remember me. Of course my hometown was London and to be more specific Highbury in Nth London, which was no small town by any stretch of the imagination.

I then pondered on the fact that perhaps I am a homebody who likes to be in familiar places, but then I started to think about the places around the world I have visited and it occurred to me I’ve been quite a traveller in my time. 

My first trip in a plane was to San Sebastian in Spain. In those days a trip to anywhere in Europe was considered very extravagant. My sister was getting married at the end of that year and I was to be married soon after, so we took the opportunity to travel before settling down. While there we took a bus trip to Madrid, where we walked out of a bullfight in disgust after about half an hour. I guess we only expected all the grandeur of the parade and never considered the poor bull was going to die a slow death. I have to say here that we were told afterwards it was a very poor fight and the matador was not considered very good. We also went on a bus trip to a coastal resort in France. I can’t recall exactly where but do remember the horrendous drive where the driver seemed intent on killing us all, driving along mountain roads like a kamikaze pilot.
That's me on the right--at San Sebastian
 
After my marriage my husband and I drove every year to Devon or Cornwall. For anyone who knows that area of England my favorite places were Crantock or Lynton/Lynmouth. I expect both have changed considerably since the 60s.

Of course the biggest journey of all came when we migrated to Australia. We opted to come by sea, and sailed on the Fairstar, a recently refitted liner, in 1966. The sea trips from England to Australia were abandoned long ago, so we were very fortunate. It took exactly four weeks. Now when I refer to the Good Old Days you will understand what I mean when I tell you that along the way we went on a side trip to Cairo and the Pyramids at Giza. In those days ships traveled through what was then called The Suez Canal. We left the ship and stayed overnight in Cairo. Next morning we were up early and took a camel ride to the nearby pyramids. Then we visited the museum where the stand out was Tutankhamen's artifacts. Next we went by bus to Giza to see the Great Sphinx and pyramids. We met up with the ship again and continued on our journey. All this for 8 pounds sterling!

My husband went back to England about six times over the years, but I only returned once and that was in 1975. On the return trip we stayed overnight in Singapore. 

I’ve traveled extensively in Australia, been right around the coastline once, up the inland road to Darwin, over to the west a couple of times traveling across the Nullarbor Plain. I’ve stroked a dolphin in the sea at Monkey Mia in WA, visited Uluru in the red center, and swam in the warmest, clearest water you can imagine off the Great Barrier Reef, walked through magnificent rain forests, driven across unmade roads and along highways, seen a platypus swimming in his natural Tasmanian habitat, and emus and kangaroos running free.  I’ve been across to Tasmania more times than I can remember, sometimes by air and other times on the ferry. For years we towed a caravan—our preferred means of travel as we could then take our dogs along. My husband would have spent all his days on the road, but I was always glad to get home, to sleep in my own bed. 
A boab tree near Derby WA        
Silverton, near Broken Hill (Many movies have featured this pub and the walls are lined with the pictures of stars and celebrities)      


Strahan Tasmania (where we stayed in a haunted cottage--I swear I saw the ghost)

So, back to where I started, there is obviously no place like home for me. But then home is where the heart is. My early years were spent in a tenement house in Nth London where I was surrounded by love and had no idea that we were not rich. But after my mother passed away that ceased to be home so anywhere my husband and I were together was home. I will remain in this house until they carry me out. My heart is here.

Tricia McGill's books can be found on her Books We Love page:

Or her web site:

6 comments:

  1. What an interesting post. All that time on a boat and I would have gone bonkers. Even on an island I feel cut off from the world. I did some traveling when I was younger and like you, I stick close to home these days. My last trip was to England taking along a fourteen month old grandchild to see his grandmother. That was a trip to remember. London was great though. Have flown from the east coast to California and often to Florida.

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  2. Hi Tricia,
    Great post and lovely pictures. I have been to many of the places in Australia that you mention. What wonderful memories you have.
    Cheers

    Margaret

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  3. Hi Tricia,

    I totally enjoyed this post. What great memories (and pictures)! Never been to Australia, but my father was posted there and in New Zealand during WWII (US Navy). He and my mother returned in the early '80s and received the royal treatment. One of these days, I'd love to go. Have been to England, though. It was spring and the weather didn't disappoint; it was cold and rainy until the day we left :-)

    But you are so right. As Dorothy says at the end of the Wizard Oz, "There's no place like home." Especially with my special pillow.

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  4. Loved your post Tricia. I have fond memories of various places in Devon and Cornwall.I had a 4-day stop over in Singapore on my way to New Zealand and loved every aspect of what I could see of Australia as we flew across it. It was clear all the way across to the Great Barrier Reef which was covered in cloud going out and returning to the UK. I envy you your home, I never expected to be a geriatric gypsy but I'm still floating between Canada, which I love and the UK, where my family is. Victoria C

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  5. Tricia, I so enjoyed your blog post. I haven't traveled to the places you have, but I have to admit, I was puzzled by the weird-looking boab tree near Derby, WA. Although I grew up in WA state, I don't recall the town of Derby. I guess I'll have to haul out my map, huh? Anyway, it looks like it was out in the desert somewhere, probably in the central part of the state. At any rate, I'm like you. I love to be home--just not "all" the time!

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  6. Thanks so much to everyone for your wonderful comments. What a well traveled crowd we are. Sydell, from memory Derby is way up the top of WA. I also seem to recall that we heard the story of a man who made his home in a hollow boab as it was so large. But that might have been a story made up by the locals who are fond of teasing nomads.

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