Ten Days in Britain with Grandma

By Tracy Carriere

A holiday recorded with humour, warmth and candour. Be prepared to laugh out loud at the sometimes ironic, often quirky and always fascinating facts and details of each new experience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257723935

Book preview

Ten Days in Britain with Grandma

TEN DAYS IN BRITAIN

WITH GRANDMA

Tracy Carrière

TEN DAYS IN BRITAIN WITH GRANDMA.

Copyright 2011 by Tracy Carrière

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-0-557-20983-5

PREFACE

I made a few mistakes when I filled out the Family Tree page at the front of my Royal Blue, Silver Embossed, Genuine Cowhide, King James with Words of Christ in Red. On the paternal grandmother line, with great effort to be neat, I penned Elizabeth May Moran.

When I showed the completed tree to my dad he said Oh, isn’t that nice. I don’t know if this matters to you, but Grandma’s maiden name wasn’t Moran it was Trott. Moran was her step-father’s name.

I had forgotten that, but it mattered. I wanted my tree to be accurate so I carefully applied white-out over Moran and replaced it with Trott.

It looked a bit messy.

Later I showed it to my grandmother. She considered it with hesitation. What’s the matter? Did I spell May wrong? Should it be M - A - E ?

"It doesn’t matter how you spell it Love, my mother didn’t give me a middle name so I added May myself."

If it wasn’t her real name I didn’t want it there. I got the white-out. Now there was a big gap.

As I was blowing it dry Grandma said There’s something else Trace, my name isn’t Elizabeth, its Betty.

Just Betty?

Just Betty.

More white-out.

Wider gap.

My elegant Elizabeth May Moran had become blotchy Betty Trott.

A TASTE OF BRITAIN

DAY 1 BOARD YOUR OVERNIGHT

TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHT.

It’s time to collect Grandma. I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I feel awful. Like possibly I’m going to be sick-to-my-stomach awful. And why shouldn’t I? I have abandoned my children and I am about to put my elderly Grandmother into a cramped seat where she will lose an entire night’s sleep and then be forced to run around all over London tomorrow on our only free day. The worst part is acknowledging I’m the one who’s going to force her.

I left Barrie forty minutes ago. I’m standing outside Grandma’s apartment building in Aurora. My knees are shaking. They’re still shaking as the elevator door opens. There she is waiting for me at the end of the corridor — a huge smile on her face. She looks so happy. Maybe this is going to be fine.

We arrive three hours early at Toronto’s international airport which is in the city of Mississauga. We check in. According to Mickey that has taken care of approximately seventeen minutes.

What to do with ourselves for the next two hours and forty three minutes in terminal two, conceivably the most dreary airport terminal in the western world?

It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, ‘as pretty as an airport.’ Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort .

Douglas Adams, ‘the Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul.’

We will start by getting a bite to eat.

The gentleman seated next to us has been in Toronto on business and is returning home to Glasgow tonight. He asks if we are going on holiday and I briefly describe our 10 day tour of England, Scotland and Wales which includes a night’s stay in Glasgow. He seems very pleased. He proceeds to tell us all about Glasgow and how wonderful he thinks it is and that we aren’t to be prejudiced by its bad reputation. (I didn’t know it had a bad reputation.) He says it has become quite a respectable city though sadly overlooked because Edinburgh is so close by. I don’t have the heart to tell him that we will spend quite a lot of time in Edinburgh and almost none in Glasgow. He says Scotland won’t disappoint us. Grandma is sipping her coffee and barely paying attention to our conversation. I get the distinct impression she doesn’t share my enthusiasm for things Scottish. I, on the other hand can’t wait to get to Scotland to hear more of this charming brogue.

"Teach your sons and your daughters how their history made them,

That their future be shaped by no hand but their own, Aye, then soon we’ll be able in friendship and kinship,

To welcome the stranger in a land that’s our own."

Colin F Mackenzie

The guide book suggested packing slippers in our carry on as well as wearing comfortable stretchy clothes, so for the first time in my life I’m wearing slippers on a plane and it feels great. It’s now about my regular bed time. I am comfortable but not enough so as to allow me to fall asleep. I’m hopeless without sleep. Grandma is quiet. She appears relaxed and content.

Finally I am passing drowsiness and on the verge of ….

How did we get here Trace? We only wanted to go to Toronto for a night, but here we are on our way to England! She laughs.

I’ll sleep later.

"This is going to be so much fun Grandma. I can’t believe we’re really on our way!"

The idea was born at my dining room table, mid July, four months ago. Grandma was reminding me of the rules for two handed euchre as it had been a few weeks since we last played. I was describing a BBC program I had watched the night before and my mind was on picturesque Oxford.

Did you never want to go back to England Grandma, not even for a visit?

I always thought one day I would. Once I asked Grandpa if he’d like to see Wales again, because he was only a boy when they came over you know, but he never said much about it, so we never went. Is it somewhere you’d like to go Trace?

Oh yes!

Why don’t you? You like to travel.

I think it will be a while before I can manage a big trip like that.

How much would it cost?

"Oh well, I don’t know. Airfare, accommodation, meals — the terrible exchange rate — I would think about $6000 for a week, for two, maybe less."

I can afford it, said Grandma.

Suddenly I couldn’t remember what was trump.

If I pay, could we go together? She was deadly serious.

We put the cards away and went to the travel agency.

After that it was a piece-of-cake; except for the odd glitch like getting Grandma a passport.

I’m sorry, your Grandmother must be mistaken. She isn’t Canadian, you’ll have to get her a British passport.

"But she must be Canadian, she says she became a Canadian in 1920, the year she immigrated."

Actually there were no Canadian citizens until 1947. Before that even Canadian Nationals were British Subjects. Unless your grandmother applied for citizenship after 1947 and went before a judge — and there is no evidence of that — she is still British.

But my parents are Canadian! and they were born before 1947! and they never went before a judge!?

Yes, but your parents were probably born here. Good point.

"But my grandmother votes!"

That isn’t surprising. There are many people who vote though they are not legally entitled to. Like your grandmother, most of them don’t even realize it.

I gave up. Would you happen to know how I can get her a British passport?

It isn’t difficult. Does your grandmother have a copy of her landed immigrant papers?

I doubt it.

"You can contact Citizenship and Immigration and request a copy. I’ll give you the number. Then submit it with a passport application to the British High Commission in Ottawa, I’ll give you that number as well. You will also need at least two pieces of additional ID, preferably with a photo such as a driver’s license, proving she resides in Canada. You will have to produce these at the airport before boarding your flight to return. Without these there’s a  good chance her re-entry into Canada could be refused."

My own passport had expired but getting a new one for myself would be simple. What concerned me was the expense of getting Grandma’s, not to mention the length of time it would take. And our time was running out. We sent away the documents, pictures, completed

forms and money orders. Grandma’s passport cost $35. was valid for 10 years and arrived in a week and a half. Mine cost twice as much, was valid for half as long, and barely made it in time.

I never told Grandma she wasn’t Canadian. I only told her it would be faster to get her a British Passport.

As for the two pieces of ID, that was a bit trickier. She had never driven a car, so that was out. All she had was her OHIP card and that didn’t have a photo.

So I decided to not think about it anymore.

DAY 2 ARRIVAL IN LONDON ENGLAND

Uniformed Globus hosts are available to

help you make the most of your stay.

Day two for us is beginning somewhere over the Atlantic. I keep nodding off. I think. Whenever I open my eyes Grandma is perfectly still but looking wide awake. I don’t know how she does it. I am so tired I can’t stand it.

Are you tired Grandma?

Not really.

Unbelievable.

I set my watch six hours ahead. I watch the monitor as it tracks our progress over the ocean. The captain says we are approaching Heathrow and now I wish I had a window seat. The plane is tipping to one side and suddenly I have a perfect view! I can see the Thames and Tower Bridge! I’m