Sticks and stones

JON: As you know, we are back from our trip to the USA where a good time was had by all. When we arrived, we allowed ourselves to be upgraded from a compact car to an SUV, and I’m so glad we did. Some of the roads we traveled down really were only passable in a 4x4 SUV, and at one point we came upon a couple who had got stuck in rather a deep puddle of mud in the middle of nowhere. Had we had a rope or even a piece of string we would have had a go at helping, but since we didn’t, all we could do was check that they had phoned for help – and we then had the evil pleasure of effortlessly driving through the morass.

You are probably aware that the USA is a big place, but you don’t get the full impact of it until you try to cross it by car. We did 3,500 miles in 3 ½ weeks, going from the air conditioned madness of Las Vegas through the baking heat of the Arizona desert and the Grand Canyon to the snow-capped peaks of Yellowstone. I know this may sound like some kind of tourist advert, but it was just amazing. The high spot of the trip was Yellowstone, where we saw elk, bison and black bears, lost each other in the steam of hot springs and marveled at the geysers.

On the PD perspective I did rather well. In the mornings my walking tends to be a bit unsteady, and ditto around the time when my next dose is due, so to a passer-by on the street I probably look as is I’m ever so slightly drunk. Which I don’t mind if it just so happens that I am indeed ever so slightly drunk, but it’s kind of embarrassing on a sober Tuesday at 11 o’clock in the morning. However, I have now solved that problem by buying a walking stick. The difference it made was amazing: people held doors open for me, made space for me on the street, were helpful in shops, etc. I’ve brought the stick back home with me and I’m trying to remember to use it whenever I go out.

In other news, our offer for the house in Denmark has been made and accepted! We won’t exchange keys until November, so there is a strange anti-climax of not much happening at the moment. But I’m looking forward to the move and to getting the place done up just the way I want it. And it’s good to know that we are moving from the time bomb of living across three floors to a much more practical bungalow with wide doors and corridors and no door steps to hamper a shuffling Parkinsonian.