A mixed bag of celebrations and sadness!

Sunday was Mothering Sunday, and our mate Kevin invited us to join him and the lovely Jean in celebration of that, and of our friendship, at the Winter Palace Hotel for 'Afternoon Tea'. Well; we didn't need to be asked twice, did we? They also had invited Jean's friend, from almost 20 years ago, Beryl. (Beryl spends half the year living here in Luxor.) 

It's always lovely at the Winter Palace, we do nearly all our celebrating there while we are in Luxor. Here's the motley crew:

The joy of the day was spoilt a bit because Kev has not been on top form while they've been here. In fact he's had to have the doctor out, as he's been really quite ill at times. The sadness was multiplied when they had to go back home to a cold and dreary England on Wednesday. God bless them both, and bring them back soon!

As you know, the Pope died on Saturday. Instead of the 'Lying in State' that we were expecting; they had him seated on his 'Papal Throne', in all his finery. I must say that he looked magnificent, but he reminded me of the gentlemen Peers in the House of Lords, when they are semi-reclined with their eyes closed! While the TV presenters celebrated his life of loving service to the Coptic Christians of Egypt and the World, I couldn't help but to be greatly saddened by the unseemly spectacle of people (including fellow monks)  pushing and shoving in order to get close enough to touch his coffin!

Another case of joy turned to sadness was our two Scotchie friends, who have been here for the past fortnight, also going home on Wednesday. They stayed at the El Mesala Hotel, over on the Side of the Dead. We went out with them on WitcHazel's felucca on Tuesday afternoon. It was splendid, just floating along, chatting and drinking. The wind was just enough to keep us moving along nicely. We had a quite unexpected shock, though, while we were enjoying the tranquillity of being 'under sail':   

No; your eyes aren't deceiving you, it definitely is one of those infernal 'jet-ski' things!

I was (almost) dumbstruck, but WitcHazel told us that it had been there for quiet a long time, and that there was only the one, thank heaven. When we had left them, (with one almost on the verge of tears, the big daft Jessie!) we went off to do some shopping up TV Street. The 'bus was a bit busy, so I nipped into the front seat next to the driver, while Freda squeezed onto a seat in the back with some women. I was rather surprised with the view out of the windscreen:

Somehow, I think Her Majesty's Traffic Commissioners might have had something to say to a PSV driver in England who was displaying similar decorations, what do you reckon?

Another celebration this week, is the wedding anniversary of my dear sister and brother-in-law, it must be 41 years for them! But that is also tinged with a great sadness; six days into their honeymoon our father took another heart attack and died. I think I'm right in saying that it was his thirteenth in seven years. 

The final (I hope) celebration which brought about a very real touch of sadness (but for a slightly less serious reason, perhaps) this week, was the sixth birthday of our youngest granddaughter Isabella Grace. Here she is, still in her nightie, but determined to try out her new roller blades! 

These are the times when we can get homesick, only for family, mind. Couldn't you just eat her?