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Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Sep-29-2010

The Boy will be staying here in London. I myself think that for a youth hostel, it looks pretty good.

But he took one look at those steel bunk beds and said, uhhhhh.

Not quite a Sheraton, I know…

Dream On

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jul-19-2010

We have received a cherry invite : an Italian couple that we have known for at least 25 years invited us to spend time in their guest apartment at their home at Lago Maggiore.

We visited them there about two years ago. They are lovely people and their home is simply gorgeous. They built that apartment with the memory of the time that they spent with us in Viareggio : here is the fridge, we said, here is the key, have a great time. We do not have to be barnacles. They taught me how to cook a few dishes then, we had fun.

The Father brought up the invite yesterday : he wanted just the two of us to go down there. Now, there is no doubt that I need to get away from here, but The Baby. She is only 10. I can’t leave her, no one will brush her hair right for one. I said no yesterday, but told The Father that I would indeed think about it.

Today sealed the decision. Let me see, was it when The Girl sprayed air freshener in The Boy’s face, or when The Boy threw water balloons out of his bedroom window, hitting the sun bathing Girl’s telephone and her new book ? Or was it when chatting with The Girl and I commented, well, I know that you will have The Boyfriend spend the night here and I don’t think that The Baby will like that and she said that she had already talked with Baby and Baby would not mind ?

Maybe The Father and the three cherubs will go down there. This is option two.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-16-2010

The Father was very ill again last night : his stomach, this time. I gave him a glass of milk.

This helped. For a while.

I went to bed after my feisty North Koreans lost ( I am always for the underdog).

Apparently, The Girl caught him at a good moment : he has agreed that she and The Boyfriend can go to Luxemberg for three days.

Different culture, different mores.

I think it was yesterday that The Father said that he wanted to make a trip to Verdun. He has never been there.

I have been there a number of times. I remember seeing that trench with the bayonets. Which were pretty well gone the next time that I went.

This would be about a 3 or 4 day trip. I looked at him with weary eyes and said, well, I can’t go. Someone has to feed the dogs, Murderbird and the fish.

The Boy will like this ( I suggested going to Ypres instead). The Baby gets car sick. The Girl is not a culture Vulture.

I am always the party pooper.

Destin, Florida

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-3-2010

It sounds like that oil might hit Destin.

Destin, Florida is the only place on Earth that I will go into the … I don’t know if it is a sea or an Ocean… the water. The fish swim around your feet, crabs scuttle by, I even saw a shark once, but no one believes me.

At night, we take flashlights and see the tiny, baby crabs. They are white and just walking around.

There are Pelicans flying overheard.

That oil can’t hit Destin, and destroy that beautiful white sand, all of those beasties. That lovely, clear water.

What is retribution going to be ?

There can never be any retribution.

Sweet Home Alabama

Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-17-2010

Over this last week of *vacation*, The Baby has now and again asked me rather odd questions. The first, if I knew how old one had to be to go to college in America.

Well, I said, about 18, but it depends upon how one has done in school.

These out of the blue questions and statements continued throughout the week.

On Saturday, it was the Day of Judgment : I had to brush her hair out. It took almost two hours. She was so very upset that I attempted to distract her, and then I finally heard what was on her mind.

She wants to go to College / University in Alabama. That child loves Alabama. What does she love most ? The people. They are so friendly, they are so kind. And Alabama is so beautiful.

I mostly listened ( she was very upset about the whole hair brushing business), and now and again would bring up some of the wonderful times that we have had in Alabama. Smith Lake is near the top, and feeding catfish there with baby bottles filled with a mush of saltines and water.

So, The Girl wants to be from The Big Apple ( in fact, she has told certain people that she was born there), The Boy tells everyone That he is American and Baby wants to be in Alabama.

I do not know if I have done things correctly or incorrectly, for my objective was for all three to know that they were Dutch, not mongrels. Not meaning any offense to Americans ( hey, I could only be an American), but I have met enough dual passport people to know that this can cause problems.

Oh. Stinkin. Well.

Libby Holman

Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-14-2010

I just read a book about Libby Holman. How I wish that I had sound on my computer. My sound took off when Vista arrived. I would love to hear this. Although, truth be told, I probably wouldn’t like it. But one never knows.

She had a very interesting life. That is one of my diplomatic comments. She was at times either great friends or dreadful enemies with Tallulah Bankhead.

Apropos of nothing at all, I assure you, Tallulah Bankhead was from the same one horse town that my Father lives in. I have seen her family home . It is in nowhere Alabama. It is a lovely home. My Father considered buying it, but decided that he was too old to handle an old home.

She and her sisters ( how funny, down there, the first girl is always known as *Sister*, the first boy, *Son*) were extremely witty, of which the Holman books give one example after another.

This is rude :

“I’ve tried several varieties of sex. The conventional position makes me claustrophobic and the others give me a stiff neck or lockjaw.”

Memories Of Things Past

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Aug-8-2008

We struggled through Switzerland and managed to get home from two weeks in Italy last Saturday. Jeepers, do I loathe the Gotthard tunnel: our handy, dandy navigation system informed us that there was a 10 mile traffic jam before it which would increase our travel time by 3 hours. We decided to go for the St. Bernard Tunnel, even though we knew that there was major work going on that route.

What was good about the vacation ? The stop we made at Claudio and Lilliane’s at Lago Maggiore. We have known them for a cooties age, going right back to Dad’s house in Viareggio, where The Father and I fell in love, where my family has been vacationing since the mid 70′s. They put on a spread for us that one simply could not believe, that barbecued cheese ( would I kid you ?) was to die for. Even The Girl was charmed, which is rather like hen’s teeth when talking about an adolescent. What charmed her ? That Lilliane apologized for still not knowing any English. And then again, after having been irritated by Rene and spouse having spoken Italian for a week, suddenly, when Lilliane spoke Italian, The Girl could follow it. Italian is like that, if you open up your mind, you can indeed follow it.

But it was a fine, fine thing that our children could spend a few hours with a real Italian family, one that in no way resembled a commercial for spaghetti sauce in a jar.

And we saw a Praying Mantis up close. I kid you not, but it was very, very neat. Although I wondered how such a BIG bug could get into The Girl’s bathroom when each and every window in the house had screens .

And so we made that classic mistake : we went back to the past, to the place where we began. I doubt that we shall ever go there again.

I was planning to close this place, but The Boy asked me to keep it. I suppose that I shall pass on the passwords and such to him. And I suppose that I shall keep writing here, for him. I am rather certain that Google cannot find me, and any links that I leave I shall attempt to hide the source. Now one can imagine a big old Duh, for how can one remain hidden in such a public arena ?

Days before our 25th wedding anniversary, 26 years since we met once again at my father’s home in Viareggio and fell in love, 28 years since we met each other on a cold and rainy hilltop in England, things seem to be in shreds.

And I have no idea how we arrived at this point. I only know that all of these years of contentment cannot be tossed aside, that there must be hope.

Song For Summer 2008

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Aug-6-2008

Sloop John B.

Oh, we sailed on the sloop John B.
My Grandfather and me.
Round Nassau-town we did roam.
Drinking all night
We got in a fight
I feel so break up,
I want to go home.

So, hoist up the John B. sails,
See how the mains’l’s set;
Send for the cap’n ashore, lemme go home!
Lemme go home! Lemme go home!

The firstmate he got drunk,
break up the peoples trunk,
Constable come aboard and take him away,
Mr. Johnstone, please let me alone,
I feel so break-up, I want to go home.

The poor cook he gots fits,
Throw ‘way all the grits,
Then he took and eat up all o’ my corn,
Lemme go home, I want to go home!
This is the worst trip, since I been born!

General consensus :

Lemme go home, I want to go home!
This is the worst trip, since I been born!

Sweet Home Alabama

Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-29-2008

It seems that we shall never go to Alabama again. This has been a great shock to the children and I.

No more days at Smith Lake, no more Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Patsy.

My father is selling his home and plans to move to Texas, of all places ( Re: Bush), to a, oh, retirement community for military officers.

He has sent me a bunch of things from the old homestead, which I still have not seen- time, you know.

He sold all of his gold jewelry, including the I.D. bracelet he promised to The Boy.

Speaking of The Boy, he did not receive a birthday card this year from his Grandpa, nor was a deposit made in our joint account. I gave The Boy 50 Euro and said that it was from Grandpa and Grandma.

I have no idea what is going on with him, but I do know this : never again shall we share the same house during the sultry months of summer in Alabama.

I have always been able to go home again, contrary to popular belief. And now, that is over.

The children and I all wish that we had known that last year was our last time there, so that we could have said goodbye to all of the things that we came to love about Alabama, the rolling hills, the kindly people, making puzzles together while Grandpa napped.

I suspect that I am on Grandpa’s shit list.

Do I care ?

Not one bit. He did not send my boy a birthday card. Small minded, I know, but such am I.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jan-12-2008

the cheapest ticket is 34,00€ Madame Butterfly is July 26 and Tosca is July 27.
See (there is also an English version)




What would you do ?