Adventures In Bristol

May’s house in Bristol England was about as old as she was – 88 years. Though the word “old” did not describe May well – she would be more readily referred to as 88 years young.  May was a thin and sprightly character with a lively spirit and tremendous appetite. Meals at May’s place consisted of breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner and then supper ! And I will always remember the gooseberry pie she made with gooseberries picked from her back yard garden.
 
The house in Bristol had four levels – a basement and three floors with kitchen, dining, living areas and bedrooms.  All of this living area was serviced by one bathroom and in that bathroom was perhaps the oldest toilet I had ever seen !
I was staying at May’s place by the good grace of my dear long-time friend Dorothy Elliot.. Before moving to the South Pacific  and settling on Norfolk Island, Dorothy had lived for many years in and around Bristol. She had in fact been born there.
 
While staying in Bristol I was making travel plans for the next several months and these plans often grew from a whim as I was in a secure place in life whereby I did not have to be anywhere at any time and had sufficient financial security to take a year off.
 
One day I decided to write to the French consulate in London (this was in the days before computers) and not knowing how to get their address decided to go down to the local Post office to see if they had a London telephone book on hand.  The local village was about half a mile away. I walked the distance and entered the Post Office to encounter a long line of people waiting – about nine in total.  I found this slightly frustrating realizing I would have to wait my turn to ask a simple question “do you have a London telephone book” but there was no way around it.  I joined the queue.
 
I was waiting there for about five minutes when I noticed that the lady who was in front of the main who was in front of me was holding an envelope over her left shoulder in a rather strange way.  My attention went to the envelope and there written on the envelope was the name and address of the French Consulate in London.  I took out pen and paper, copied down the information and left the Post office.  Mission accomplished.
 
Guardian angels always show up when we believe and we ask for what we need.
 
©  2007 Yvon Douran

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