I thought I’d drop a line as it’s been a little while since I scribed. I’m well aware my writing is turning purely into a travelogue as a blog and you might wonder if the real world occasionally impinges on my wandering. Sadly it does.

On our return from the USA I had to meet some new tenants at an apartment we let in the centre of York. (How else do you think we pay for Anna’s Business Class seats?) I met them at the property and had a little speech prepared about where the bins are kept, how to switch on the shower, the necessary use of a parking permit etc. The new couple are in their twenties and I felt that I should ask them to look after the apartment and maintain it as they found it (although our contract quite clearly states this although, unfortunately, stops short of public flogging if non-compliance.) So to demonstrate how long we’d been a landlord at this property and our weighty credentials of stewardship (as I saw it) I dropped in that we’d owned the property since 1999.

Well, mouths dropped and their gaze soon told me that such a history probably warranted, in their eyes, a plaque on the outside of the building. Neither of the tenants had been born then and, for them I was reaching back to a time before the electric light.

Talking of a long time ago my mind turned to Princess Margaret, as obviously it would. For my younger readers this was the sister of the late Queen. It seemed she had a frustrating life. Being the sibling, of a similar age, to the heir to the throne is not an easy project, witness Harry and Andrew although their respective self-pitying and alleged criminality never followed Her Royal Highness. When we visited Kelowna, Canada in July we crossed a bridge over the Okanagan Lake to reach a restaurant. Our Canadian host, June, commented that the original bridge had been opened by Princess Margaret in 1958. It took two years to build, spanned 650 metres and cost, then, $7.5 million (Canadian). That structure lasted until 2008 when a replacement was built. Frankly it needs upgrading again but indigenous ownership is a complicated matter and so no building will be starting anytime soon and traffic jams will continue.

Which made me remember a framed letter that stood in the Moores’ factory Board Room. This was from one of Princess Margaret’s staff thanking us for hosting her visit to the factory in October 1977. I joined Moores in 1985 and so this visit didn’t happen during my employment; unfortunately no one ever mentioned it either. However standing aloft a giant bridge, no doubt representing the British Commonwealth, replacing ferries and costing $ millions through to visiting a relatively small factory 20 years later making kitchen cabinets in the suburbs of Leeds indicates the breadth and random nature of the Royal family commitments. No wonder Harry scurried off to California to write a book about his early sex life to pocket a few dollars.

Being back has made time to spend time with the grandchildren. Anna is wonderful in her role as grandmother: patient, comforting, endlessly energetic in cleaning, food preparation, transportation and flexible on availability. My attendance is much less but I did a seven day stint of being on call for some of the time a week or so ago. Watching them grow is a privilege but the Duracell bunny energy of a toddler who has the enormous talent to spot all hazards/items of value (yet fragile) in a room irrespective of its height, size or weight is a gift along with the fact that they will run toward them keeps you always on guard. They tell me that they all eventually grow out of this phase!

The heat all over the world is causing some distressing problems: fire, drought, death (mainly French though) and parched gardens. However, to go through a British summer knowing that it isn’t a unpredictable picture of rainy days, cold nights and sweaters isn’t all bad. There, I’ve said it!

Lastly, the football season starts next weekend. Time to put my mental wellbeing back in the hands of some blokes i’ve never met . All this stress until next May…