We arrived back in the UK the day before David’s funeral. My sister’s husband, David, had been battling MND (Motor Neuron Disease) for several years. It is a particularly cruel disease. From being an elite mountain marathon runner, David’s body was reduced, slowly but steadily, until he literally could not lift a finger and struggled to talk. His mind however, was still clear, sharp as a knife and his sense of humour undiminished. It was sad, painful to watch. We tried to help where we could. In particular, we accompanied Dave and Helen on trips to the Swiss Alps, to Morocco, to Italy and elsewhere. Each trip, was harder and more challenging for all of us.
Over two hundred people turned up for his funeral. They could not all fit into the church. Such was the respect he had locally. He had done well. From an apprentice at the local foundry he had gone on to gain a PhD and ended up a lecturer at the university. Along the way, he had three wonderful daughters, made a big muddy splash in the world of fell running and married my sister. He beat off an aggressive cancer but then, when the recovery was not going to plan, he was diagnosed with MND and cast onto its inevitable path. That was a most difficult day. The end of his suffering was a bitter-sweet affair. We were sad to lose him. There was also a sense of relief that his suffering was over.
This is the lovely Ailsa, David’s youngest daughter, she is running in the London marathon next April. She will be running the 26.2 miles (46.2 km) in honour of her father. Also, very importantly, to raise money for the MND Association. Details are here.
While in the UK we also celebrated Diane’s seventieth birthday. She was not very keen on this. It was easy to understand that marking the progress of the unavoidable did not sit well just then. We went off to a lighthouse near Newport for a few days. The West Usk lighthouse on the entrance to the Bristol channel was abandoned by Trinity house a hundred years ago. Since then, it has been wonderfully restored. We stayed in a small keepers cottage with a view straight out onto the channel. Here we could watch the sea washing over the mud flats driven by one of the largest tides in the world. We walked along the shore edge, watched the birds, cooked ourselves some great food and drank wine saved for the occasion. It was peaceful, introspective and a touch melancholic but we left feeling much more settled. The rest of our time in the UK was spent pleasantly visiting friends and helping Helen around the house.
Off again. A night at a Manchester airport hotel then we were flying into Istanbul. First attempt to land did not go well. The pilot aborted the landing a few metres before touchdown. Strong winds were the problem. I was reminded of the old maxim that any landing you can walk away from is a good one. Ten minutes later the second attempt went much better. Istanbul is enormous. 20m people. Istanbul airport is enormous. Twenty-minute taxi in the aircraft before we reached our stand. Quickly through passport control, baggage collection and customs. Forty-minute ride to our hotel, check-in, drop bags in room and head out for some food. Just like that we were travelling again. Felt great.
One of our favourite ways to look around a new city is by motorbike and sidecar. We found a company and met up with them the next day. Our bike was a Russian Ural. Looked like an old BMW with a big, air cooled flat two engine. Sounded great but tended to overheat in traffic. Our driver, Cem, clearly enjoyed his job. We shot off into the crowded Turkish streets and straight into weaving between cars, trucks, pedestrians and the occasional dog. It is a very exciting way to get around although you need to trust your driver. He took us to mosques, churches and other historic buildings. We visited a viewpoint in a park and posed with the bike. We crossed one of the immense bridges that span the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul. Another terrific viewpoint and then some small streets, too small for cars, before popping out by the docks. A small ferry brought us back to Europe where we drove against the traffic up a one-way road. Our driver had a Eventually we arrived close to the Hagia Sophia and were served pistachio coffee – delicious.
Our driver took a break. We’d been on the go well over three hours, so the lad needed a rest. One of his colleagues offered to walk us over to the Blue Mosque and some other sights. We followed him into the courtyard and he promptly got arrested. The policeman explained that we were being protected from scammers. Back at the coffee shop, it was explained as a big misunderstanding. When our guide returned, twenty minutes later, it was to a severe ribbing from his friends. First day out in Istanbul and we already had excitement and drama.
