During the summer we were meant to be going over to Ireland to stay with family but never made it. Next week, the boys are off school and we’re finally in a position where we can make the trip.
We have the letter from the doctor outlining all of Jude’s medicines, a requirement as no more than 100mls of liquid can be taken onto a plane. However, the idea of transporting all of Jude’s equipment (drugs, bottles, feeding tubes, syringes) was too much so me, Nathan and Joseph watched Wolves get a respectable draw against the Villa at lunch time and drove the 4 hours to Holyhead, North Wales to stay overnight before getting on the morning ferry. Rachel, who is wise, prefered not to take the boat – the Irish Sea has a reputation for making the uneasy queasy so she and Jude are flying into Dublin tomorrow afternoon.
As I drove through lashing rain and heavy gales this afternoon I wondered whether I had made the right choice in loading up the car and taking the ferry – maybe it would have been better to buy a really big suitcase, pay the excess luggage charges and hire a car the other side.
Thankfully, the weather has calmed down and I really hope that I wake up in the morning to blue skies and calm seas. Please…..
The hotel room is cheap and cheerful – one double bed and a pull out sofa. At the moment Nathan is sprawled across the double bed and Joseph ihas found himself a little corner of the room and has fallen asleep on the floor, and that’s where he will stay. Looks like it is the pull out sofa bed for me.
I was 4 or 5 years old the first time I remember coming over to Ireland to see my dad’s family. We would always go to a town north of Dublin called Balbriggan. The town where Dad grew up before moving to England when he was 16 or 17. I was the first grandchild, my dad had many brothers and sisters and as I grew up and came over every other year or so the number of cousins grew quickly. Some were around my age, many were much younger – my baby cousins.
Now my baby cousins are all grown up, some have families of their own – kids older than my own. There’s a new generation to replace the one that’s gone.
My dad was born in Ireland but spent over 2/3rds of his life not living in Ireland. I was born and bred, married and settled down, in England but I will always feel at home when I go back there, I know that so much of who I am can be traced back there.
My dad never met Jude, never held him – never found out the challenges Jude faces. Dad died just a couple of months after Jude was born. After everything that has gone on in the lsast 18 months or so, this is my first chance to take Jude ‘home’ and let him have a little bit of what he has missed out on.