A change in direction ...

Summer is over now, after that brief flowering - as I write, a chilly wind is making moaning sounds in a window that I think I shall have to close and the balmy nights of the past couple of days are but a memory. But when I sat up this morning - yes, with my Italian - the picture above is what I actually felt I had to get out of bed to photograph as the early mist on the river began to clear and the sun started brightening the streaks of cloud. The air was still warm and windless, and I was able for the second time this summer to put on a dress to go to church. 

We weren't, of course, expected by the folk that don't have a connection through social media, so we had to explain to several just why we'd turned up. This generated a great deal of sympathy which, in our still-raw state, was very soothing, and offers of help which were encouraging. The congregation was slightly smaller than usual - I think people were either off on holiday, like us (!), or making the most of the last good day - but the singing was epic - a great solid male sound beside and behind me. And afterwards there was the joyous sight of our three bikers clambering into their leathers and roaring off down the drive ...

We had coffee and then lunch in the garden, where I sat on for quite some time reading the paper while Himself sorted through holiday paperwork, insurance documents and so on upstairs. But as the wind began to rise at the end of the afternoon we felt as usual that a walk was necessary and went off down the road to walk up the farm road at Ardyne, from where the declining sun is always visible. The harvested hay was lying in black plastic rolls all over the fields and the cloud was already making interesting patterns over the sky. It was becoming decidedly cooler. 

And as we face up to the necessity to do something about the missed cruise, another story of someone who was a light in the gloom of Thursday evening.

We had arrived at the bus stop area outside Terminal 5 at Heathrow, casting around for the stops that would match what our compensatory hotel accommodation voucher said. I had a feeling that we'd stayed in the allocated hotel before, but the name was oddly different. This caused us to delay as we arrived at the designated bus stance, meaning that as we tried to find out exactly what hotel it was the relevant Hoppa bus pulled away from the pavement and vanished into the darkness. 

By now Himself was looking an interesting putty colour and I felt I had to do something to sort this. An empty bus pulled up beside the stop; the driver put up the "Not in Service" sign and put off all his lights. I approached the closed door of the bus. When he opened it I said I knew he was not in service but I wanted some advice, and he took my voucher and confirmed that it was indeed the Renaissance Hotel I was looking for and yes, I'd just missed the bus. The next one would be along in twenty minutes.

Somehow in the next five minutes he had us organised. He invited us to come and have a seat in his peaceful, dark coach until our bus came, as he too would be moving out then. He insisted on hauling our luggage into his bus and stowing it in a sensible place, and we settled down, glad of the comfortable seat after the traumas of the past three hours. When the twenty minutes were almost over, he got up, opened his door, put the lights on - and we got up to leave and find our own bus. He told us to stay put, and to leave our cases where they were. He would take us to our hotel.

The bus filled up with a crowd of people, many of whom seemed to need to be shouted at to stow their cases safely and so on. Some of them were decidedly abusive of our rescuer, who remained amazingly calm. We drove off, driving round the airport for the next 15 minutes or so - and then stopped. I recognised the Renaissance hotel. People began to surge towards the door, but he pushed them back, fished our big bags out of the rack, took them off the bus. "Only important people!" he said, and ushered us off. 

There: wasn't that unexpectedly marvellous? We thought so. Sorry it took so long in the telling, but that's today's shout out: the Hoppa Samaritan.