Of Foreign Build by Jackie Parry

Author:Jackie Parry [Parry, Jackie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nonfiction, Retail, Sailing, Travel
ISBN: 9780987551559
Amazon: B00OQBWJJE
Publisher: Skyhorse Pub.
Published: 2014-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

16

Noel fulfils a life-long dream

What struck me most as England appeared on the horizon and slowly glided towards us was its magical scents. The grass, dust, rubbish, trees and flowers flowed across the salty water and invaded my senses. I smelt the perfume of home. Tears pricked my eyes, and I foolishly grinned all across the entire English Channel.

At Ramsgate, we eased into the narrow entrance with the firm, but polite, British accent from the Harbour Master guiding us through.

In the secure haven of a near empty marina at dusk, we carefully secured Mariah. Noel handled the bow lines, and I was fiddling about at her stern. We stopped in unison, looked at each other, and at the same time realised we were both on shore. We were on terra firma. We were standing on England. We both did a ridiculous little jig and hugged, relishing our achievements. Actually, we were still on the water, standing on a floating pontoon, but we were in British water, British docks, and smelling British air.

Noel was champing at the bit to get to a pub, but we had to check in first. Customs came on board and stared at the white powder on our table. I blushed a little and said, ‘It’s talcum powder.’ We had just taken a quick ‘shower’ in the sink and had dusted off in talc. They believed us and just thought we were a bit odd, but we were used to that.

They declined the proffered beer, and I batted my weary eyes to convince them to take a couple of pictures of us on English soil.

It was Noel’s first time in England. What I found remarkable, and still do, is that Noel fulfilled a lifelong dream. He had always wanted to sail into England, not fly, and he had achieved that. How many of us have an unattainable dream, or even an attainable one, that we never achieve? I was very proud.

Once customs had cleared us in, we were free to roam. On the way to the pub, Noel wanted a meat pie.

‘Remember,’ I said ‘if you ask for chips, don’t ask for hot chips. You’re likely to receive a smack.’

Across the oceans, I had been training Noel in English-speak. To ask for chips in Australia, you asked for hot chips. That is because they don’t say crisps; they say chips if they want crisps. I giggled all the way to the pub while Noel practiced saying ‘Crisps,’ his lisp became heavier and thicker with each step.

‘A pint please and some ccrrrrispssss,’ announced Noel, as if he was an actor enhancing his esoteric character for the sake of an audience.

Nowhere in the world, do they have pubs like English pubs. Australia ruins its drinking holes with TVs lining bars with the volume up high, blaring out horse racing events, betting, and slot machines.

The low beams, dark cosy atmosphere, wrapped in hundreds of years of history and the occasional real fire is unique to our land; I love these places, the food and drinks are heightened in the palate by the splendid ambience.

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