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In Which Tracy Goes Home

FATGIRLslim | In Which Tracy Goes Home

Two and a half weeks ago, on Saturday January 25, Dad passed a mild dose of the ‘flu to me. He passed a much worse version to Mum, that put her in bed for two days and meant she had to take an entire week off to get over the worst of it.

It meant that we couldn’t go down and visit Granny and Granda, or see Aunty Helen, who’s still in hospital after breaking her leg and ending up terrifying us all half to death, getting a call from her daughters (my cousins) telling us that she was going to die that day. She’s gone through high-dependency, and is now off of oxygen, and even off of her nebuliser, and is looking and sounding ten thousand times better than she was.

But we still didn’t want to head down home when we were sick, or sort-of sick. Especially as Granda’s still not exactly well – he’s probably never going to be well, and if we passed a ‘flu onto him, after he’s had a stroke, it might be the very end of him.

So we waited until we were all feeling well – well enough that we weren’t feeling about to pass out at any rate, and we headed down to Greenock to visit with family. I was supposed to be getting to see my cousin’s new baby for the first time, but I was an idiot and forgot my painkillers, so I couldn’t climb the stairs to her flat (three or four or five flights of stairs!) and found out that he wasn’t even in, anyway, oops.

We did get to see Aunty Helen, who was, as I said, looking wonderful, and we got to see Granny and Granda – Granda was sleeping on-and-off, and Granny was her cheerful usual self, and even let me sneak a drink of her Bailey’s for in my coffee – and my Auntie Fiona was there with my wee baby cousin, Kadie, who’s just over a year old, and toddling, and saying, “HIYA!” and getting into everything, and being generally adorable.

On the way home, we stopped down to the Esplanade, which is quite a long stretch of front along the River Clyde with an amazing view, to get some photos. And I even got some ice cream from this ice cream place, The Bluebird Café, which is a place I haven’t gotten ice cream from in more than 15 years. I’ve been home for five and a half years, and this is the first time I’ve had ice cream from this place since we moved home. IT WAS (almost) AS GOOD AS I REMEMBERED – not quite as much flavour, but OMG, the texture is incredible. It’s hand-made authentic Italian ice cream, apparently. It’s AMAZING.

But there are more reasons than the food and family that I love going home for. As seen at the top of the entry, it’s the view. Greenock/Port Glasgow and surrounding areas is beautiful – right in the river valley heading into Glasgow, and right across the river are hills and mountains and there are colours in the sunset that I’ve never seen elsewhere, except when I’ve been on an aeroplane.

I’m one of those people who’re happy enough to live wherever, to call home wherever, in whichever house I live, but when I say I’m “homesick”, I mean, “I need to go to Greenock sometime soon and stare across the water and look at the valley.”

Pictures above and below both link to the full-size, absolutely-massive versions, so if you want, feel free to click on them and see them in their full-size glory.

And see if you can understand why I get homesick.

FATGIRLslim | In Which Tracy Goes Home

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