A Break At Woolacombe

The whole Morgan family, with Sean and Rachel, helped Liz's father move into his bungalow: a sad time; relief that he was settled and being given the care and support he would require.

I was aware that when members of a family get older, downsizing accommodation made sense. Not only did it release capital and reduce maintenance it also made daily living much easier. I understand people who want to hold on to the past, but sometimes a brave decision had to be taken, especially if the person could no longer cope with the current property.

Rachel and I dropped Sean at Manchester airport. He would travel extensively negotiating new clients and locations for the Floating Prisons. The first quarter's profit from the prison in Kenya, had been disappointingly less than £1500, but we had extra training costs so were not take totally by surprise.

I was certain that Sean would miss Rachel and visa-versa and move heaven and earth to be back as soon as possible. The promise of the driving experience of his life would be an additional incentive to hurry home.

James passed his driving test with the help of the crash course and two more additional lessons. He and Aly borrowed Liz's Nissan to go for a virgin spin; on Liz's insurance for years, in hope that one day he would drive. Liz looked nervous when he drove down the driveway of Kirmingsham Hall ; the car shuddered with a stall aat the gate as he turned towards the village and I chuckled.

Liz and I had honeymooned in August 1986 at Woolacombe, North Devon: a hugely popular destination for families and surfing. We loved the location and the Royal Hotel's accommodation, and went on holiday there almost every year after the children were born.
The staff often recognised us and asked about the family, and Diane from the owners, became a good friend.

I had promised Liz - when in Jaffa securing Simeon's release - that we would take a holiday before James' wedding. Becky, Wesley, Tony and Alan, joined Liz and I at the Royal Hotel Woolacombe for a week. Wesley had missed so much schooling since his illness took hold we would not jeopardize his education. The break in Devon coincided with the Easter Term Holidays.

The glistening orange and white hotel welcomed us as I drove over the hill. The spectacular sea stretched before me, a handy ten minute walk to the beach. Weary campers making their way to caravans or tents on nearby sites observed through panoramic restaurant windows while we ate our evening meal. Wesley and I challenged Tony and Alan to table tennis and enjoyed morning swims in the hotel pool.

The weather favourably warm on the Sunday of our short holiday so the Morgan family enjoyed the sunshine and sea-air on the beach. Liz sat in a deck-chair while Becky and I played ball games with Wesley. It was a bit of a relief to have Tony and Alan as I had a job to keep up with Becky and Wesley in their continuous demand to run after a ball or walk to the sea up to knee high.

"Are we going in?" I asked Liz, sensing the answer.

"In April? Are you mad, Mr. Morgan?" Liz replied.

I sat in my deck-chair reading; my kindle becoming a regular companion. Elizabeth deep in thought did a competition. She enjoyed consumer competitions and had won a few.

I watched Becky and Alan playing cricket with the children. Over the months I had wondered if Becky had an interest in Tony, because he was often at the house. He had told me about his marriage problems.

Liz returned from Becky's room. "Look at all this sand in the shower tray," I said, "I don't know where it all comes from."

"Yes I know," Liz said, "but look at your pink bits. You must be more careful. You and James always look like lobsters!...Anyway on a more serious note, Becky is in a bit of a dilemma."

I scratched my head, "What about?"

"You men!" Liz said. "You're hopeless. Becky has feelings for two men. Tony is kind and would be a good father. Josh is somebody who makes her heart race and palms sweaty."

Both Liz and I knew the answer.

I connected to Skype and clicked on Josh's Skype name "Federman". It was 21.00 hours in Tel Aviv.

"Liz and I would like you to come to James' wedding. You can stay with us at Kirmingsham Hall." I said. "Can you also talk with Joseph and Simeon about coming and make arrangements?"

He thanked me and assured me that he would attend. Liz texted James to allow three extra places at the Wedding and gave the names for name-plates.

James skyped us straight back. "That's fantastic news from Israel! And listen, I've been practicing to beat Sean on the Silverstone track. I know I only have two days, but it's cool, I have been rehearsing skids on the drive."

My heart sank to think of my churned up gravel, but I felt proud.

Over dinner that night I announced, "Joseph, Simeon and Josh have agreed to come to the wedding."

I watched Becky's response. Liz and I noticed how she ate with contemplation. Wesley nudged her with his arm several times.

After the night's entertainment: a singer who told a few jokes and tried unsuccessfully to sing like Tom Jones and Elvis Presley, we were reading in bed and Liz looped her arm through mine and nuzzled up against me; so good to feel her next to me.

Brachytherapy and hormone injections - that I had quarterly to combat prostate cancer -- gave me worry about my male prowess, though Liz had assured me she was happy with a cuddle.

We made love and slept until Wesley returned from the pool and knocked on the door: time for breakfast.