The things we do for love

My husband has always been more adventurous than me, although since meeting him I have become more so. It is amazing how much influence another person can have over you. When we first met I had something of an adventurous spirit but not an ounce of what I have now. Any fears I had of trying something new was quickly quashed when Andrew introduced me to his microlight.
We had been together less than a year when he drove me to the airfield where he had a hangar. I had no idea what a hanger even was, except something you hang your clothes on. In fact I had no idea what a microlight was and I do wonder now if I had had even the slightest clue, would I have gone that day. It was a lovely Summer’s evening. Very warm and all Andrew seemed to talk about was thermals, while I wondered why we would even need them. Of course the thermals he was talking about was rough bumpy warm air and not extra warm clothing. I asked more about the restaurant we were going to afterwards than I did about the flying. After all, I had been on many flights; it couldn’t be much different from that could it?
Oh, good lord, it was very different.
We parked outside the hanger and Andrew opened it up and wheeled out what looked like a motor cycle. I watched in fascination as he checked it over thoroughly before wheeling out a huge wing. My stomach lurched at this point when it dawned on me that this was the wing that would keep me in the air. I looked frantically around the hanger for a possible plane. I didn’t mind how small as long as it was something enclosed. There was no plane. I then looked for the cover that would go over the top of the motorcycle thing, but there wasn’t one. I watched with trembling legs and beating heart as Andrew positioned the wing on and fastened the bolts. He then handed me a flying suit and helmet. I nearly passed out. My god, I can’t go in that, can I? I quickly learnt that a microlight is pretty much a motorcycle with a wing and not much else. Well, a motor obviously. Heavens, did he actually say that he can fly up to about 10,000 feet in this? Not with me in it, thinks I?
‘Ready to go?’ he asks with a smile.
I climb into my flying suit and zip it up with shaking hands. This is it, I shall die and this relationship that I had hoped would be something good will be no more. I stare dumbfounded at the two small seats and try not to picture myself sitting in it at 10,000 feet. I feel sick. Andrew helps me clamber in and helps me on with my helmet. He then affixes the mike that will allow me to speak to him while we are up there. Oh, God, what if I fall out. He straps me in tightly and I thank god for that. I wonder if I should make a few last calls from my mobile, you know my final goodbyes and all that? But before I can do anything he is climbing into the front seat and starting the propeller.
‘Clear prop.’
I would come to know those words very well in the coming years.
‘How long have you been flying?’ I ask in a shaky voice.
‘Since yesterday,’ he jokes
‘About ten years,’ came his confident response.
Well, he must know what he is doing. We motorcycle down the track and stop at the runway. It’s now or never. I can either run, or close my eyes and pray. I choose the latter. You only live once after all.
‘Golf, mike tango, Yankee, echo is lined up for immediate departure.’ he says in one of those typical pilot type voices.
‘Golf Yankee echo is cleared for take off at your discretion.’ Advises a voice in response and I wonder what at your discretion means.
‘Golf yankee echo, take off.’ Says Andrew and before I can ask what is happening we are storming down the runway at about 50 miles an hour. The things I do for love. Then, we really do have lift up and, oh, here are the thermals. A few bumps and I feel myself clinging onto Andrew. Well, we certainly got close on this flight. We go higher and higher and I feel myself tense and tense even more. Finally we are so high that I don’t care anymore and the views are spectacular. I am like a bird.

The wind blows against my face and ahead of me is a hot air balloon.
The cows and sheep below look like tiny dots and I see people sitting in a field having a picnic and they begin waving to us. I wave back. Andrew takes us higher and higher and it is the most wonderful feeling in the world. The colours of the fields seem to change with the shifting light and the shadows are incredible. There is one shaky moment when he asks me to lean over the microlight very slightly so he can check the fuel. I do so and find myself seemingly dangling from the flying motorbike. We turn, go lower and then rise up again. I am having a wonderful time. We skirt around Blenheim Palace where they have a function happening and the driveway is lined with flaming torches. From 3,000 feet the scene is amazing.
I was disappointed when that flight ended and as the years went on I went up many times with Andrew. On one flight I leant forward and guided the microlight by the handlebars, with Andrew assisting of course. I helped wash down the wing and have even been known to sew it before now. I do not enjoy bumpy flights however and always avoided even slightly windy days. We have visited other airfields and have enjoyed the sights of Oxfordshire from the air.

Just over two years ago the microlight failed its MOT and although we got it repaired Andrew felt it’s time was running out. We were both busy but he was busier and had his studies to focus on. After a lot of thought Andrew sold it.

We have done many other exciting things since and I know I would never have done them had it not been for Andrew. Navigating the whole island of Boracay in the Philippines for instance on a motorcycle. I had never been on one in my life and Andrew hadn’t ridden one in years, but what a fab time we had.
Oh, yes the things you do for love.

Bald men, tattoos and dodgy stomachs.

So we have arrived in Cambodia and here I am tapping away at my keyboard while sitting in an air-conditioned room a million miles away from England. But, of course, things are never as idyllic as they sound are they? Not in my life, anyway. But, as always I digress. Here I am telling you about Cambodia when the getting here was much more interesting. Did I say interesting? I am certain there are better adjectives to describe our trip. Did I mention we are here only one day and my tummy is already a bit Dicky? Ah the pleasures of a break abroad. ‘Such fun’, as Miranda’s mum would say. Here I am digressing already. Let’s start at the very beginning it’s a very good place to start. Should I need to run from the computer for any reason, I will be sure to let you know. Why should I be the only one to suffer?
It all began on Friday evening when we learnt that our connecting flight had been cancelled. I am so pleased it was now, although I wasn’t saying that on Friday. We arrived at Heathrow airport with plenty of time to spare so I dived straight to duty-free as you do while Andrew sighs and wanders around the whisky that he has no intention of buying. Finally, we sit and wait and frantically look at the other passengers wondering who might be on our flight and whether he or she looks the type to throw their seat back or get totally drunk during a long flight to Bangkok. You know the sort of thing, the usual flight anxiety. We have all done it right? Then, you spot the lovely elderly couple and spend the rest of the time praying that they will be in front of you. We are joined by two young men who sit discussing the chocolate they have bought. A family size bag of kinder, and their favourites Jelly Babies which are indeed very moorish, so we hear. Well, these lads seem harmless if they only plan on getting high on sugar. They won’t be so bad as travelling companions. One claims he has never had so much chocolate on his person and is loaded down with Mars Planets. Well, this was not quite how I imagined the young lads who visit Bangkok to be like. We start to get a little uncomfortable when they are joined by another friend however, who they advise will be sweating it out before the day is finished and begin describing the side effects of a cold sweat. He, meanwhile sneezes all over Andrew while studying his box of night nurse. Not a great start. Still, they seem very clean living, all three of them. Oh, they are now joined by another who produces the latest magazines and they all get very excited. We smile good-naturedly. Boys and their football, we think. Until, out of the rucksack comes the most recent edition. The latest porno magazine it seems. Good lord. I suddenly realise why they are going to Bangkok and visions of a repeat of ‘The Hangover’ flit through my mind. One of them is getting very excited and says how he has never seen so much alcohol and cigarettes in his life. I can’t help imagining that Bangkok has been quite an eye opener for him then. Finally it is time to board and I find myself praying that the elderly couple will be our nearest travelling companions. We board on time and everything is going well. Too well, I hear you say. A nice young Australian is in our row and Andrew introduces himself and they get chatting very quickly. I watch with trepidation as people walk down the aisle and finally three bald-headed men with tattoos approach and my heart is in my mouth and almost jumps out onto the floor when they take the three seats in front of us. Oh no, just what I had been dreading. 12 hours of noisy drunken tattooed men. This is turning out to be quite typical of a Lynda Renham-Cook holiday. I turn to Andrew who just smiles and continues talking to his neighbour. Great, what is the betting I get the one who throws his seat back, laughs raucously and causes scenes? Yes, I am a great one to exaggerate. But, hey listen, I know my holiday history.

‘Long fu**ing flight ahead then, so I’m going to fu**ing kip, the whole fu**ing way. I’ll probably take a fu**ing pill and fu**ing die.’

He says and I think this sounds like good news for me… and almost say.

‘Can you fu**ing take it soon please.’

Not that I wish anyone to die, well maybe just this one passenger.
And we are off and taken care of by lovely gay steward Cameron and his mate Jasper. Amazingly enough Mr ‘I’m off on fu**ing holiday’ literally does sleep the whole journey and fortunately doesn’t die either. What a stroke of luck I hear you say.
The whole journey was a stroke of luck, in fact. We arrived in Bangkok ten hours later where our connecting flight had been cancelled and we were to catch a later one. What a stroke of luck. It took us well over two hours to find our luggage, get through passport control and customs that we would never have made it had our flight been on time. Finally after numerous passport and security checks we arrive in Cambodia and are met by my stepson and we take our first ride in a Tuk Tuk and go to our accommodation in Siem Reap. More to follow…
PS The dicky tummy turned into very bad Cambodian belly, If there is such a thing. Oh, it was not ‘such fun’ at all…