A Cure for Cabin Fever

I’m currently spending the long summer holiday with a foot in plaster.  I mustn’t put any weight on it.

Nigel has wheeled me out on several occasions and pushed me around manfully.

However, I had given up on the idea of a girls’ outing and a giggle.  And I was getting cabin fever.

But then Jennie had an idea.

She researched attractions and accessibility and recruited two other heroes – Ann and Gill.

We were going to Kew Gardens.

I am hefty and my borrowed wheelchair primitive, so I packed a novel, ready for the moment when they could push me no more.  Frankly, I was expecting to be parked.

However, we had a glorious day, trundling past a grove of giant sequoias, a shady border of toad lilies, a pond floating delicate waterlilies.

My friends helped me to get close enough to smell the roses, to stroke the pom-pom centres of echinacea. Above, we could hear the kazoo squawks of parakeets, and in between that feast for my senses, I enjoyed the chat.

Even in the face of uphill gradient and difficult camber, the ladies refused to park me until right at the very end, when the waterlily house was just too challenging. 

Naturally I spent the journey home complaining that I hadn’t had time to finish my novel.

A couple of palm trees that Ann found unaccountably amusing.