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This is an encore post - I have a piece on the boil for my regular publication day on Saturday, looking at economic inequality among Boomers in the United States. Wealth concentration among Boomers belies the impression that they “have it all”; in fact, a good percentage have very little.
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this favorite memory.
Dear Friends,
If you’ve reached that age when travel with young children is infrequent, I have only this to say: They are curious, fun, and they are what you will remember. It’s what I remember and savor from an otherwise uncomfortable overnight trip.
My London-based grandchildren, Charlie, 8, and Ava, 5, tried to mask their excitement as we boarded the Caledonian Sleeper at Euston Station. Neither was particularly successful.
The trip presented two significant “firsts” for the children: the experience of sleeping on a train for successive nights — in bunks, no less! — and the grown-up feeling of traveling without Mom and Dad.
Our final destination was Ft. Agustus, along the shore of Loch Ness. There, we’d board an expeditionary boat in search of Scotland’s legendary and elusive Loch Ness monster, a.k.a Nessie.
We were a trio of intrepid explorers
Charlie found our adjoining cabins, identical in design, each with a pair of bunk beds. Rules requiring that children sleep only in lower bunks had limited our choice of accommodation. The restrooms were down the hallway.
We marveled at the clever use of space: a small hanging closet, ample countertop for luggage, a full-length mirror, and decent lighting for reading in bed. Tucked under the small tray table was a basin. As ever-vigilant grandmothers do, I noted the sticky clasp unlocking the tray table and the raw metal edge along its underside.
The bed linens were crisp and fresh, and the bunks were firm and comfortable. Terry cloth hand towels embroidered with the stylized stag, the train’s brand identity, added a bit of luxury. There was hot and cold water for washing up and bottles of Scottish Highland Spring drinking water. Plus, every child’s favorite: amenity kits!
The train was less family-friendly than I’d hoped. Neither the dining car nor the club car allowed children under 12. Alas, no apple juice nightcap. We were pretty much confined to quarters.
We busied ourselves with settling in. There were books, stuffed animals, and PJs to sort out, backpacks to stow, and toiletries to gather. Suddenly, the train lurched forward. Due to the evening departure, there wasn’t much to see outside our generous windows, but we were undeniably underway.
A highlight of the bedtime routine was ordering breakfast with a hangtag on the door. We specified our choices from the offerings, noting the cabin number for correct delivery. Ava carefully added AVA in her five-year-old scrawl to her order.
I’m sure the galley staff was charmed.
We cuddled for bedtime stories, talked about the next day’s adventure, decided on bunks, and drifted off — or, most of us did. I hoped the vague pounding in my temple did not forewarn a migraine. Surely, a good night’s sleep…
The next morning, a knock announced that breakfast had been left at the door. We transformed the sleeping quarters into dining quarters and enjoyed the novelty of room service porridge.
Our driver’s Scottish brogue flummoxed Charlie. “Are we in a foreign country?” he asked. Charlie is a naturalized British citizen. Technically, Scotland is not a foreign country for him - except for the spoken language.
We headed to Loch Ness. In the late autumn morning, the brooding Scottish landscape conjured up Macbeth. At the dock, our guide helped us suit up with goggles and lifejackets. We were off for the 60-minute cruise.
My headache, now entrenched, was accompanied by a faint nausea. I doggedly ignored them both and welcomed the fresh air of the open boat.
We were certain we “saw” Nessie a couple of times. Wasn’t that her shadow just below the surface? Right over there? She seemed to be playing hide and seek with the boat.
We definitely saw her, Ava later confirmed to her mother.
Mission accomplished.
We found our way back to Inverness for lunch. The kids ate heartily, abuzz about their aquatic “discovery.” I concentrated on my chamomile tea.
We had time to explore Inverness, a charming city along the River Ness. The riverwalk was lovely and a good place to burn off some kid energy. In the late October chill and fading daylight, we headed back to the train station.
I craved a nap.
I approached the lady at the desk outside the Caledonian Sleeper’s first-class lounge. She was the gatekeeper, and the departure was in two hours.
The “no children under 12” sign was apparent. We weren’t in First Class. Admittance would require a combination of charm (mine) and sympathy (hers).
I pleaded my case, assuring her that my grandchildren would not be disruptive, and I promised we would leave immediately if the lounge became too crowded (code for “or the children too rambunctious”).
She kindly relented. We passed the time in a setting reminiscent of Downton Abbey; the children were quiet as church mice.
As we boarded the train, a fellow passenger, a well-dressed woman roughly my age, remarked, “I just want you to know I’ve never seen such well-behaved children.”
Music, absolute music to any grandmother’s ears.
“Thank you,” I replied proudly but humbly. “Their parents will be so pleased to hear that.”
We knew the onboard drill and arranged ourselves for the overnight return. My migraine had blossomed, and the accompanying nausea bubbled over. I excused myself to go to the restroom and throw up.
Thank goodness we didn’t have an ensuite cabin!
I tidied up and, feeling better, made my way back. The door was locked. I knocked again and heard titters of muffled laughter.
“Hey guys,” I said, “It’s me. Open the door, please.” There was more muffled laughter.
I wasn’t too steady, and the train was moving; panic replaced nausea.
What if they pinched their fingers on that sticky tray table latch? What if they sliced open an arm on that raw metal edge? What if they fell off the upper bunk (the one they were not supposed to be on)?
Didn’t they realize I was responsible for their safety?
I pretended I’d left; they couldn’t tell if I remained quiet outside the door. I’m sure it was only a few minutes, but it felt like an hour before curiosity got the better of them.
The door opened a crack. I burst in like the ATF on a raid.
The room was in shambles. It looked like the remains of a frat party minus the beer cans. The bunks were ruffled, coats on the floor, hangars broken. The tray tables pulled out, of course.
How was there no blood? No broken bones?
Divine intervention was the only answer.
My anxiety turned to anger.
“What happened?” I said sternly. “Nothing,” they replied, innocently.
“How did the coats get on the floor, the hangers broken?”
Shrugged shoulders; they had no idea. It was as if they hadn’t witnessed the mayhem. It just happened.
“Sit down,” I ordered. They sat.
I pointed out my role as their guardian in their parents’ absence. I mentioned that Mom and Dad would disapprove of such behavior.
They nodded meekly.
I edged toward the red line, saying that I had wanted the three of us to be traveling buddies, but maybe I was wrong.
That veiled, empty threat might have been a bit much.
Ava’s bottom lip quivered; giant teardrops trickled down her cheek. Charlie was only a bit more composed.
Their regret was apparent; we hugged it out. I said that I hoped we had lots more adventures ahead. By then, we were all teary.
They climbed up to the restricted upper bunk for a bit of 1:1. I was below them, regaining my equilibrium. The cabin did not lend itself to personal space.
I heard Charlie whisper to his sister, “Ava, we shouldn’t have locked Gran out.” In heated defiance, she replied, “Charlie, it was your idea!” Ava was not about to take the fall.
But then, all was right with the world. We got ready for bed, put the breakfast orders on the door handle, tucked into our bunks, and let the overnight train take us home.
Wishing you many adventures - and no migraines!
See you on Saturday!
Please share your adventures in the comments; I’d love to hear from you!
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