Joining in today with the lovely Sian over at From High In The Sky and her inspiring Memorandum Monday - a chance to share something you've done for the first time at the weekend, or something new you've learnt. If you haven't called there already, do pop in. She'd love to see you, and you'll really enjoy it.
...............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
"Do you think we could do it? Really? There and back in one day? That'd be a first." Dad's tone was doubting, but I heard the little smidgen of hope lurking behind it. We'd never attempted a day trip this length with him before because cars and long journeys when you're very elderly are A Bit Of An Ordeal. But I knew how much he missed the sea, and what it would mean to go back to the coast where he and Mum had lived for the twenty years before they came to be with us. "Of course we can", smiled Himself reassuringly and we crossed our fingers behind our backs. And get there we did ...

There was, of course, a tea-break on the way - another first, for Dad will normally insist on sitting inside. But the weather was just so glorious for October ...

"Would you like us to take you along the pier?" I asked. "We'll be halfway to Ireland if you do!" retorted Dad. Resplendent with Victorian and Edwardian elegance, it's 2995 feet long, and we've never walked its full length. But, with Dad in the folding wheelchair when he got tired, we did ...

"Alice in Wonderland", said Dad, suddenly. "What's his name?" Memory is a little shaky these days. I thought for a moment. "Lewis Carroll?". "That's right", he affirmed. "Alice Liddell stayed here as a little girl. I think there are some statues somewhere ...". And five minutes later we passed the Mad Hatter clutching his teapot - our fourth first of the day.

But we couldn't go home without crossing to the western shore, so that Dad could enjoy again the place where he and Mum loved to sit with a flask of tea ...

And this first was a poignant one: he was just too weary to leave the car ... But we reminisced, looking at the sea and mountains beyond, and (in time-honoured fashion) took a little pebble home. Not long before bedtime as we had a light supper by the fire, my brother rang."How was the day, Dad?" he asked. Dad paused for a moment. "It was a brilliant day", he said. "Is that brilliant as in sunny, or brilliant as in good? my brother enquired. Dad reached for another of his favourite date-and-apple sandwiches. "Oh", he said, smiling "Both!" Himself and I looked at each other and breathed a quiet sigh of relief and satisfaction. Happy ninety-third birthday, Dad :).