Travel Biography - Week 121.

An End to One's Life's Chapter.

Of the 20 photos here, two are of the wedding, the other 18 are from our honeymoon album. With 106 pics in the album, I hope that I have selected the most memorable.

My feelings were somewhat mixed. That Friday back in 1999 was to be my last day of bachelorhood. My 47th birthday had just gone. Just two years earlier, while I was backpacking around the world, I never dreamed that I would marry before the end of the decade, century, and millennium. Rather, I was pondering on what life would have been like growing old as a singleton, with loneliness my only companion.

But Alex was determined to pair up with me. As I took off to Singapore in 1997 to visit Australia, and then continue on to California, I was already in her sight and mind. And so, just over two years later, I felt nervous as I reclined in the quietness of my apartment. She spent that day at her parent's home. That afternoon, I visited our local sauna at Coral Reef Waterworld, a leisure pool and spa suite, a twenty-minute walk away from home through the back of the woods. Sitting alone in the heated cabin, I knew this was the last of everything. Or was it? 

After arriving home that evening from Coral Reef, Mum phoned. She asked whether I was sure that this was what I wanted. Later, Alex said that she too was asked by her Dad the same question.

The Big Day and the Flight out to Rhodes.

After a very anxious wait for the bride to arrive, she was escorted by her father into the church. I felt a massive sense of relief. She could have changed her mind at the very last minute, a fear I'm sure lies deep within every waiting groom sitting on the pew or standing at the altar, especially if there's a delay.

Our big day.

Our Reception.

At our Hotel, Rhodes.

Lardos Beach, Rhodes.

And so, that unforgettable morning, we were wed. The ceremony, including the signing of the Register, took an hour. The Reception followed in the church's back room a short while later. Yet, how did I really feel? On one hand, happy to finally tie the knot and my status changed from bachelor to husband, from single to married. Yet, I anticipated the future. Even at Reception, behind the smiles, I had a premonition that testing times would eventually follow, yet, I felt confident that not only our future marriage would hold, but grow strong and robust through these coming trials.

My younger brother, Robert, was the best man. He was also the escort who drove us to Gatwick Airport drop-off after the Reception had ended. After hugging my brother farewell and wishing him the best of everything, we were finally alone as we made our way to check in for our flight. This flight was only the second in my entire life shared with another person - after flying out to Spain with a college mate 27 years earlier in 1972. Thus, I felt that this was so different after taking to the air so many times on my own between those years.

I'm aware that there may be many couples who won't reveal where their honeymoon destination was, perhaps in keeping with tradition. But they seem happier to say where they went to for all other subsequent holidays. We were perhaps the exception. On our wedding day, quite a few knew where we were heading for our honeymoon. That included both family members on both sides and closest friends. There was nothing to hide. We were heading to Rhodes, one of a group of 12 Greek islands, and also the largest of the Dodecanese.

Two weeks ago, I wrote that since 1972, I never went on another package holiday until 2007. However, by the time I realised that I had forgotten about the honeymoon, it was too late to correct the error, as that week's blog had already attracted many readers. So, let me set the record straight. Our Honeymoon in 1999 was the first package holiday since 1972. However, I'll go as far as to say that had I not met and married Alex, chances were that I would never go on any package holiday until perhaps old age, if at all.

My lifelong dislike for package holidays was borne out of the 1972 package trip to Spain. To me, that was not Travel but Sunseeking. It was one way to escape the dismal British summer for a spell of warm sunshine, with sand and sea thrown in. But in 1972, rather than an escape to the sunshine, it was Sun, Sand, Sea, and Alcohol. It was something I never wanted to experience again. Yet, there we were, about to go on another package holiday. But with a big difference. It would have none of the intoxication. Hence, the only difference between our honeymoon and independent backpacking was that both the package flight and the single-venue hotel were arranged in advance for us by the travel company, Thomsons.

The Acropolis, Lindos.

The Acropolis, Lindos

Lindos Bay

Lindos' main souk.

St Paul's Bay as seen from the Acropolis, Lindos.

North entrance into St Paul's Bay.

Our Arrival at Rhodes. 

We landed at Rhodes Airport late into the night, and we had to ask for the appropriate bus to our hotel, which was quite a long ride from the airport. Eventually, we arrived at Hotel Lardos Bay, on the southwest coast of the island. Being late at night, we were shown our room, itself a short walk from the Reception across the large quadrangle that contained the sunbathing area, hotel pool, and a freestanding bar.

The holiday was two weeks long, and it gave us a chance to learn about the island, its geography, history and culture. Remembering 1972, I hardly touched any alcohol. Instead, we enjoyed viewing the night scene with perfect contentment without any intoxication spoiling the romance. But being who I always was and who I still am - one for a quest for adventure, Rhodes offered little backpacking per se. 

Fortunately, there were two activities which came close. One was diving. I was not snorkelling this time but scuba diving - breathing underwater using air tanks fixed to my back. The other activity was a one-way hike from our hotel at Lardos Beach to Lindos. With adequate preparation, Alex was willing to accompany me on this six-mile, 10 km walk along the coastal road to this beautiful historic town which boasts the restored ruins of the Acropolis and the natural lagoon formation of St Paul's Bay. The hike wasn't our first visit to Lindos. Earlier in the honeymoon, we took a bus to Lindos to explore the town more thoroughly, noting the spectacular narrow strip of a peninsula jutting into the inky-blue Mediterranean. Lindos Beach was on our side of the peninsula, and we hired a pedalo for an hour. Poor Alex became anxious for our safety as we pedalled way out to sea to some small rocky islands!

Scuba Diving at Kallithea.

Our boat is to the right.

About to have our first Dive.

The diving was booked soon after arriving at our hotel. The day was halfway through the holiday. That morning, the coach escorted us to Mandraki Harbour and Marina at the island's capital, Rhodos. At its entrance from the sea were two pillars, one on each side of the entrance. On each pillar, a deer stood, one male, the other female. These pillars marked the traditional site of the giant Statue of Colossus, erected in 280 BC, and one of the Seven Wonders of the World, and was destroyed by an earthquake in 226 BC.

The boat, with probably up to thirty people on board including the staff, sailed out of Mandraki Harbour to head directly south to Kallithea Springs, a narrow inlet between two headlands and reputed for its clear waters. Here, the boat docked at one of the two diving platforms. My group, up to ten novice divers, were the first to don our suits and dive into the sea. Unfortunately, my wedding ring shot off my finger and was lost somewhere on the rocky seabed. Thinking that the ring was easily replaceable, I still made an effort to enjoy the dive. After the dive was over, after informing one of the supervisors about my wedding ring, he dived down and retrieved it! How he found such a small yet valuable object underwater on the uneven floor was surely a miracle, yet was I relieved! I made sure that I was more careful during our second dive a couple of hours later.

Between the two dives, we were free to explore the environment. The Kallithea Thermos was in a dilapidated state in 1999, and derelict. But I heard through the grapevine that it was earmarked for full restoration. According to the photo of it on Google Maps, this was accomplished, looking more like a museum piece than an actual hot bath.

The second dive, two hours after the first one, was okay, but having lost my coordination, I needed guidance from the supervisor. This was still very new to me, and it was very different from snorkelling. However, all ended well afterwards with a desire to remain in the water for longer. But with the others, I too had to board the platform. On both dives, Alex remained dry on the platform and watched. In all, it was a good day but with a lack of experience, I still had a long way to go with scuba diving.

At the Master's Palace, Rhodos.

Hippocrates Square.

Temple of Aphrodite.

One of the souks, Rhodos.

A Visit to the Island's Capital.

The chief city of Rhodes is Rhodos. It consists of the Old Town centred on Hippocrates Square, the Palace of the Grand Masters of the Knights, and the ruined Temple of Aphrodite. The medieval Old City was the centre of our attention. It was surrounded by the city wall with several gates, the most noted was the Sea Gate which led into Hippocrates Square, a well-known tourist spot. Outside the city walls, to the east is Mandraki Harbour, to the north, the island tapers at Elli Beach, from where we enjoyed a view of the Taslica Peninsula of Turkey. The rest of the New Town is an uninteresting urban sprawl. At Rhodos, we spent most of our time within the city walls and along Mandraki Harbour.

As I saw it, there were distinct similarities between Rhodos and Jerusalem. Both have a walled medieval Old City. Both have the New City attached to the outside of the city walls, the streets of both Old Cities were narrow, and the main souks of Jerusalem were roofed over. The streets of Rhodos were all open to the sky. Yet both had that distinctive medieval feel, as I walked through history, and now the experience shared with my new love.

One of the deers at Mandraki Harbour.

Close-up of the deer.

At Platia Simis, Rhodos.

Relaxing at Mandraki Harbour.

On days when we didn't leave the hotel, we spent much time sunbathing by the irregular-shaped pool. As I mentioned earlier in this biography when writing about Arlie Beach in Australia, many hotels have irregular-shaped pools designed that way to look at rather than swim. Hence, under the hot summer sunshine, a raging thirst develops. And it's no accident that very close to the pool there is the drinks bar. Also, salty peanuts were sometimes provided in a dish and were available for the taking. Package holidays really are money-making machines!

Two weeks after our wedding, it was time to head for the airport.

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Next Week: Alex and I are preparing to visit Israel. And I nearly hit the roof.

16 Years of Love.

Everyone who grew up in an environment, particularly here in the West, that has a Christian-based constitution celebrates three special days each year: Easter, Birthday, and Christmas. While Easter and Christmas are national holidays centered on the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the birthday is totally personal, and the date random enough to fall even on a holiday, such as on Christmas day - a phenomenon which such a child would consider to be so unfair, and which he has no say in or no control over. But married couples have one extra occasion: their wedding anniversary, the date of such a celebration being fully under control the moment the date of the wedding is proposed. So it was with us.

And so we hold so dear, and I think this is because I married so late in life, at 47 years to be precise, that is, less than a month after my birthday. But as we stood that morning at the front of the church and exchanged vows, I knew that life would never be the same again. All the wonderful things I achieved as a bachelor - world travel, which I held so dear, closes for good (so I thought) and a new chapter opens, one which, after the honeymoon is over, will present challenges I sensed as I placed the ring on her finger.

So, sixteen years to the day, I pushed her wheelchair along what I consider as my favourite area of London - the South Bank Walk. This is the only area in a major city where it is totally traffic free. But it is also the area where I experienced something of a culture shock - although it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me - the reality hits home as we crept close to the edge of a large three-dimensional mural directly under Southwark Bridge. It was a wonderful work of art, so much so that it drew a crowd - tourists in particular. Everyone, including ourselves, kept to the narrow walkway surrounding the mural - except for two men dressed in pinstripe suits and ties. These two walked directly over the graphic, with not a smidgen of consideration for either the artwork or the people taking photos of it. Aware of their wrongdoing, they looked straight ahead with sheer determination. It gave me the impression of how Britons expanded their Empire within the last four centuries, treading underfoot the indigenous they have conquered, looking down at them and forcing them to submit to their rule without any consideration to their needs.  

3D mural under Southwark Bridge.

And this took place just a week or so after someone I know well has criticized me on how negative remarks about our national culture sometimes appear in my posts. Indeed, there were many men wearing office suits milling past us, as this was during lunch period. And it came as a surprise to me that the majority did not wear ties, but had their shirts open at the neck. And in the midst of Autumn, our British weather was sunny but rather cool. Therefore I was left wondering whether all this hint of casualness was normal throughout the working week, or was it the Friday dress-down? Or maybe a combination of both? But as for these two smartly-dressed fellows who were together, I saw the epitome of our cultural attitude, and I couldn't help letting out a rebuke which I had hoped was within their earshot. And so made this anniversary as unique as all the others, which as made me ask: Does wearing a tie really bring out a sense of superiority, if not a hint of nastiness? 

On the subject of uniqueness, at last year's anniversary, I found myself bathing in the sea at Bournemouth under warm Autumn sunshine, the year before that I found my wife lying unconscious on her ward bed at John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, after arriving by train and bus, thus making our 14th the least enjoyable anniversary of the entire marriage. The year before that, we were at Malta, where I suffered a mild foot injury on some razor-sharp rocks, and the year before then, on our 12th, we were given a sharp rebuke for eating our own sandwiches on the beach at the Greek island of Kos, thus posing a threat to the family-owned beach cafeteria nearest to us.

Seeing my wife, the person I love most, in a wheelchair can be very distressing, especially on our anniversary. Memories of such wonderful moments we had when we fell in love with the Greek islands of Rhodes and Kos, as well as recalling a night spent at a London hotel, hiking on the Southwest Coast Trail, even standing in the rain at a bus shelter at Penzance in Cornwall, and just merely eating out at a restaurant in our home town of Bracknell. Those were wonderful anniversary memories, and also in a way, the most haunting. Because throughout those earlier years of our marriage, Alex was fully mobile - with the ability to walk, run, skip, and dance. Dancing in particular, she loved it. Now with mobility limitations, whenever we leave the house, I have to push her in a wheelchair. 

And it's this which made our sixteenth a mix of both good and bad. Good in a way that our day trip to London to be by the Golden Hinde made it an exhilarating experience for Alex. The famous tall ship is a replica of the one sailed by Sir Francis Drake, who navigated the world in it during the 16th Century. How we spent some considerable time in that area, enjoying coffee at a cafe right next to the ship. Then our day ended by standing by the Palace of Westminster, which also exhilarated her. 

The Golden Hinde, London

It was while on our way to the Palace of Westminster that I gave in to a strong temptation to visit a travel shop near Covent Garden. To get there, we crossed an area of cobbled stones which shook Alex's wheelchair and putting excess strain onto her back. The result was that she went down with a severe backache, disabling her from all household chores, on the following day (today) - something she has always been fully capable despite her current lameness. This was the spoiler of this year's anniversary, if not as bad as the 14th. 

At least we are not entirely alone. Throughout my Christian life, I have known two very devoted husbands who also pushed their wives around in their wheelchairs. Different times, different churches, but the same devotion both men had for their lame spouses. I say "had" because both men are now widowers. One went north to his native Scotland, while the other went to stay with his daughter in South Africa. However, while they were both around, I had to admit how impressed I felt over their devotion to each other. In those days I was still single, not having met Alex until several years later. Therefore, in a culture where divorce is ten-a-penny, especially among celebrities and Hollywood icons, I could only conclude that the devotion these two men had shown to their wives was of the power of God in their lives. I would never have dreamed for a moment that I would suffer the same experience as they did.

It has always been a mystery to me on why God allows such situations to develop. After all, wasn't it the Lord Jesus himself who commanded his disciples to ...heal the sick...? (Matthew 10:8). How come that despite prayer delivered heavenward has brought no result? Where have we gone wrong? Could it be that our prayers were on the wrong track? Not only ours, but for the two others who watched their wives die as well? Questions. Indeed, by reading about Peter's healing of the lame man at the Beautiful Gate (Acts 3) - the real reason for this was to prove to the Pharisees that this Jesus is the Christ. All throughout his ministry, the healing of many were always for the same reason: To demonstrate that the Jesus among them is their Messiah they have been waiting for. And by believing, they could have eternal life, for this life is in the Son.

And this is the truth which brings hope to both of us. I am convinced that the same truth was the power within the other two husbands before me. And now we are dependent on this same power. It is God who is using Alex's disability to teach us to rely totally on Him, and not to lose heart. The offshoot of this ministry is the strengthening of our marriage. Only today, while attending a men's breakfast at a local church (not my regular fellowship), I had heaps of praise and commendations directed at me by someone who has seen us together. Such praise was edifying, but rather than make me feel proud, I was able to give thanks to God for his work in us. The glory goes to God. Even though, deep in my heart lies the distress in seeing my beloved in such a poor condition. And my foolish decision to push her over cobbled stones and hurting her back at the same time made me feel angry at myself. Perhaps a good demonstration of the well-being felt by walking in the Holy Spirit, followed by the destruction brought when the flesh butts in and we fall in to fulfill its desire. We thank God for the abundance of forgiveness Alex has in her heart which led to my restoration of fellowship with the Lord and with each other.

I don't know how I would have faced the future if I did not believe the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The realisation of being married to someone who is lame would have been very daunting indeed. Without the love of Christ in our hearts, would I have walked out of our marriage in favour of the airport, alone? I can't pretend that such thoughts had never entered my mind. They had. But as I look at her beautiful face, especially while asleep, and considering how her submission to me has given her that sense of security, I ask - how could I be so brutally heartless to desert her for selfish pursuits? No I could never do a thing like that! When I look at her, all I can feel is love flushing out of my heart and the desire to take her into my arms, like a mother to a newborn baby. Is the love of God like that too?

Our 15th Anniversary in Bournemouth

I thank the Lord for giving me such a wife as Alex. I could see that she was born just for me, as God found pleasure to direct fully in his will. Only the Lord knows how many anniversaries still remains in the future. Lame or healthy, one thing I am aware of, and that is knowing that God works all things for the good for those who love him, and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

Now that is where I can rest my case.   

Trusting God in a Crisis.

What is it like when an illness, serious enough to confine the sufferer to a hospital bed, disrupts the normal routine of daily life? Furthermore, it is not me who is unwell, but rather a wife, lover, partner and soul-mate who has always been there for the last fourteen years of married life. And suddenly, the house is empty and quiet, bar my own presence. Visiting Alex in hospital in the evenings following a full day's work makes the day long and tiring - not to mention daily train fares draining our resources; but I cannot go through a single day - workday or weekend - without spending some time at Alex's hospital bedside.

 

At the time of writing, the medical team has not been able to diagnose the problem. Her symptoms are severe backache followed by her loss of ability to stand up, let alone walk. At first, our G.P. thought it was just a strained back, and prescribed some medicated gel to be rubbed in at the affected site. When the condition failed to improve, but rather deteriorated, I called for the medical doctor to pay us a home visit, as Alex was no longer able to make her own way to the surgery. The doctor at first was reluctant, as he thought her ailment was not serious enough to warrant a visit. But by pleading with him to make the call, he finally agreed to visit the next day. When he arrived, a quick examination convinced him that she should go straight to hospital, where she was admitted.

 

At the hospital, MRI and CT scans were carried out on her spine, but have found nothing amiss with either her spinal cord or vertebrae. This is in itself good news, as had there been a problem, it might have been too late to operate, so the nurse informed me, as there might have been a risk of permanent paralysis. Instead, a sample of her blood had been dispatched to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford for analysis if my wife has an undiagnosed disease. The two weeks it could take before the result comes back would make the wait seemingly long.

 

Through out these past two to three weeks, I felt vulnerable, afraid, worried and fear of the future, these combinations of thoughts and emotions causing depression, intense at times. These fears were a reminder of a series of identical dreams during sleep I had in the past months when Alex's health was okay. Those were dreams of myself returning to a life as a single person, even moving back into my former bachelor pad I lived in for more than twenty years before I met my future spouse. Those dreams were identical with each other, or very nearly so. Prophetic dreams? A hint of permanence was suggested in all of them. They reminded me of the dreams I had in the early 1990s that I found myself in the United States, and also another dream, a few years later while still free and single, that I was near Haifa in Israel with an unrecognised female partner, looking across the Bay of Acre. In 1995, I did backpack across the USA, from New York to San Francisco, and in the year 2000, Alex and I stood near the summit of Mt. Carmel overlooking the Bay of Acre as we celebrated our first wedding anniversary.

 

Last Sunday, I testified of these dreams at our church open meeting. Recently I received a phone call from someone in our congregation informing me that at present, I'm very vulnerable to the devil's tricks, and therefore I should resist the fear these dreams have brought. If those dreams were to be a lie, then this should be a source of relief and assurance that we will be together as normal again. But having already experienced what looked to be prophetic dreams fulfilled in real life, I admit my confusion over the source of those dreams - were they from God? Or was the devil playing games with me?

 

I accept that those dreams might have been a warning from God, to prepare me for what is to come. On the other hand, they may be from an evil spirit, or looking from a scientific point of view, they could be nothing more than a psychological hunch. But there is one truth I can assure myself. God is in charge, and Jesus Christ of Nazareth, risen, is Lord. As I always assure Alex whenever doubt or fears arise, every evil spirit is more terrified of God than we are of them. Even Satan must get permission from God before he can act, as the first two chapters of the Old Testament book of Job so affirms. If those dreams were from the Adversary, then their ability to act were the result from God's permission, and only because we know that all things work for the good for those who love God, and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28.)

 

Satan tried to tempt Job to curse God for his sudden misfortune. Chapters one and two gives an amazing insight of what goes on in Heaven, in God's realm, where the Adversary has access. When the Lord pointed out Job as an example of God's own righteousness imputed into him, Satan threw down the gauntlet to put God's own righteousness to the test, by removing the shield of protection surrounding the man and making him subject to the most testing trials a man can endure; not only the loss of all his sons, but the loss of all his possessions, and soon afterwards falling ill almost to the point of death, and suffering physically. Then when he was in such a state, even his wife encouraged him to curse God and die.

 

But Job was well familiar in his relationship with God as depicted in Romans 8:28, and he even declared with enough conviction that in his flesh he shall see God. In Job 19:25-27 he says:

 

I know that my Redeemer lives, and in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes - I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!

 

If this wasn't a promise of Eternal Security of the believer, then what is? This is the wonderful truth of imputed righteousness. The fact that Jesus will return and he will stand on the summit of the Mount of Olives, facing Jerusalem, is a cast iron fact promised throughout the whole Bible, and particularly highlighted in Zechariah 14:3-4. Job saw this as a fact. But equally, he assures his friends in the tent with him that just as his redeemer will one day stand on the earth (the Mount of Olives) - so likewise in the flesh he will see God, that is, in a resurrected body like the one Jesus has now. The point is; his salvation was as sure to him as the coming of the Lord. No ifs or buts. Imputed righteousness, God's own righteousness in him, as in all of us today who believe. Once saved always saved!

This is the kind of faith which acts as a bulwark during times of testing and being subject to so much depression, that I could easily crawl under the carpet. To know the love of God, his goodness and mercy. And no matter how bad things might go, I'm utterly convinced that God is on our side and his goodness cannot be denied. After all, what is this power of love that sent his Son to the cross, to redeem such as I who is but dust and ashes?

Her present time spent in hospital has allowed me to reflect on our fourteen years of marriage. This included all the foreign holidays we had taken together - Rhodes, Kos, Sicily, Malta - all Mediterranean islands, together with Lanzarote of the Atlantic Canary Islands, along with Israel on our first anniversary. Alex back then so wanted to visit the Holy Land, and see for herself the places Jesus was so familiar with. At the Garden of Gethsemane, east of the Old City of Jerusalem, I recall her suddenly slipping to her knees and praying, giving thanks to God for his goodness, and particularly for giving us to each other. I got to admit, I stood there and wished to have moved on, as I was so familiar with this particular site going back to my first visit as a backpacker in 1976, and having visited the area so many times since. Then that extremely rare moment we both stood alone inside the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Jesus' burial, and normally crowded with visitors and pilgrims, and she knelt at the tiny altar and gave thanks to God there. 

Garden of Gethsemane
 

I also recall a year earlier, on our honeymoon at the Greek island of Rhodes, Alex and I strolling alone at the shingle beach, and later into the night we looked up into the black, starry sky and watched shooting stars streaking across the sky as they burnt out before hitting the earth. And the countless times we were alone, embracing each other tightly as the waves of the Mediterranean lapped gently near our feet.

 

And when we were at home, she was always there for me, as God originally intended, as a "helper meet for me." As with all marriages, there is no such thing as perfection this side of the grave, we had our ups and downs along with disagreements. But she was always there for me. So finding myself alone in the house day after day for weeks on end is quite a shock to the system!

 

But God is with us, and this makes quite a difference! Last night, after returning home from visiting in hospital, I had a long conversation over Skype with a lifelong friend whom I met at a London college in 1969. He being much stronger emotionally than I ever was, with wisdom of life's experiences to match, I felt assured when he said without doubt that Alex and I will be together at home as normal. I am sure that God can, and does use anyone he chooses to deliver a message.

 

Proverbs 18:10 reads:

 

The name of the LORD is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.

 

It's good to know that during troubled times, there is a strong tower we can run into and take refuge.

Post Holiday Blues? Look What's Coming!

This afternoon, after finishing my work early, as it was often the case on Fridays, I asked Alex my wife to bring out Charlie, the two-wheeled leather shopping bag, and decided to stock up while she engaged with defrosting the refrigerator (I know, it's a really old one, given to us by a mate of mine).

When Charlie was not where it was supposed to be, we searched the house top to bottom, and we were totally mystified over it's absence. We picked out every point in our memories and we sworn that I brought it home from our last shopping trip, on a Thursday, which happened to be on the same day our airplane touched down at London Gatwick Airport, concluding a fabulous week at Kos, one of the Greek Islands making up the Dodecanese.
(Of my last blog, 10th October, 2011).

On board a flight can be emotional

I decided to go ahead with the shopping without Charlie, and while at the superstore, I recall a trip made on Sunday, the day before returning to work, to buy a single but rather large carton of laundry powder. I wondered whether due to post holiday (vacation) blues, I had left the wheeled bag behind in the store. Embarrassingly, I asked the receptionist at the Customer Help Desk if they came across a stray wheeled piece of luggage, and she disappeared for a moment, only to re-appear with the object of such familiarity. My joy of re-uniting with what was really a long lost friend! Charlie, it's good to have you back home.

Post holiday blues. This is something I particularly suffer with. It is that feeling of melancholic emptiness after opening the front door of our home, immediately reminding us of the enthusiastic excitement I felt the moment we slammed the door shut to catch a train to the airport. In this melancholic state, my thinking and concentration becomes blurred, and I tend to become forgetful, hence the forgetting to collect Charlie from the superstore that Sunday afternoon.

Post holiday blues seemed to have no respect for the duration of the break. It seems that just one week away brings on the blues as much as one I took in 1997. Back then, as a single bachelor, I flew out from London to Singapore, spent five nights at a backpackers hostel before flying out to Australia, where for the next six weeks I always found someone to talk and socialise, which continued for a further three weeks in California. Exactly ten weeks after taking off at London Heathrow, the 'plane touched down on the same runway and a couple of hours later I turned the key of the lock on my apartment door, to face the still and sullen silence, after seventy evenings spent in social company with other travelers.

The feeling of emptiness reached to the point of despair, and I phoned a couple to ask if I can come round to their house, and spend some time with them. Fortunately they had some time to spare and together helped me to re-adjust to normal life.

Some major travel agencies, such as Trailfinders, an London agent where long-haul travelers booked their flights, had, I believe, a counselling room for those suffering from post holiday blues. I even read in a long haul travel magazine that the British Medical Association recognised this mental ailment and has offered therapy. Indeed, post holiday blues looks to be taken with a degree of seriousness.

That is why whenever I book a break, whether its just one week or a sabbatical ten weeks as in 1997, I always avoid what I personally call, "Touchdown Sunday, back to work Monday". Most of my friends can handle this sort of thing a lot easier. In fact, one church member seemed peeved that although I landed back in the UK early on a Thursday, I did not start work until Monday. I did wonder, and now I wished I had asked, whether having a desk job makes all the difference in his ability to return to work straight from the airport. Therefore I find a Wednesday-to-Wednesday booking to be the most ideal, and most of my oversea breaks, even as a lone backpacker, was normally a Wednesday departure. One rare exception was our two week honeymoon at a Greek island of Rhodes, when we took off on a Saturday (the day we wed) to arrive back home early on a Sunday morning. To compensate for this, I took the Monday off to buy new furniture for our apartment. It made resuming work on the Tuesday a lot easier.

Now I must add here that I don't dislike my work! The very fact that I have been self-employed for more than thirty years shows that I have a degree of enjoyment in my job as a domestic window cleaner. I believe what gets me down is that the greater part of my income goes to mundane living, paying the rent and the fuel bills, not to mention local and national income taxes. The thought of fuel company executives and shareholders pocketing my hard earned cash does make me feel inclined to wonder why I need to get up for work in the mornings.

But for one who has trusted in the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation, there is great hope for the believer. Only this morning, during my daily Bible reads, I was pouring over Revelation chapters 21 and 22. In these two chapters, John was revelling at a vision he had of the New Jerusalem, which is to come down from God in heaven. It will be the destiny for every saint who lived from Adam to the end of history. A saint, by the way, is someone who believes in Jesus for salvation, and not someone canonised by the Catholic Church. Every true believer is a saint.

If you read these chapters, one would get an impression on the sheer beauty of the city. It lies foursquare, each side being up to 1,500 miles long, giving an area 2,250,000 square miles, a huge area, much larger than the whole of the UK and about half the size of the USA. This suggest that the population within is much higher than most people imagine. The city is built on twelve foundations each from a transparent precious stone, along with the walls, the buildings and the streets. Most important of all, the throne of God will be there, and it will illuminate the entire city. And everyone will be able to look God in the face and communicate. It is indeed a fascinating place to be!

And this is the eternal destiny for all believers. It will be a place of intense joy and happiness. There will no pain or sorrow, nor hunger or thirst, no debt or finance and for that matter, no tiredness or boredom. And all this because by dying on the cross, Jesus Christ made entry into this city possible for all believers. "Behold, the dwelling of God is with man" John writes. It is the reason why we are here. To know God, who made us for his own pleasure, and for us to partake in the strong love that has always existed between God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. God's will was always to spend eternity with us, and after us falling into sin and separation, God did something to reconcile us back to himself. He sent Jesus Christ, his beloved Son and darling of his own heart, to die as a sacrifice on the Cross. Such love!

Our eternity will be in that strikingly beautiful city. That means that there will be no return ticket, no counting of days left to go, no apprehension of boarding the flight home, and no post holiday blues. It is a hope to look to, especially as one like me who suffers this mental ailment. So to the reader who is a believer in Jesus yet suffer the blues, think of these things and remind yourself what God has for you.

It might just make you return to work with a spring in your step.