Some history of travel

 Towards the end of last year I lost some close friends which has effected me profoundly.  I was not of the mind to speak about it here at the time.  They were people I have met in the latter part of my life rather than the school friend/work colleagues/boy friends of the earlier part.   I will tell you about one here today. 

The first to go was Antonia who I met 26 years ago via a local newspaper article about a planned art trip to Venice.  The article gave her phone number (would that be the case today?  I think probably not) and indicated that she was looking for people to accompany her.  My partner, now ex-partner, was at the time in a mental hospital where he was to spend six months under-going treatment for his first serious mental breakdown. I had received advice that is often given to partners of mental health patients "not to let them take you down with them" as can easily happen.  So with this at the back of my mind and as a kind of back up that I was doing nothing wrong I rang the lady, who was a complete stranger to me,  and said I would like to go to Venice with her.  She had a calm, down to earth, matter-of-fact way and gave me the facts of the flight, hotel name and timings and left it to me to book and to let her know when the booking was complete and she would then mail me her itinerary and a list of art materials that she suggested I take.   She then hung up. 

Although the call was short and business-like I knew immediately that I was going to get on with her.  So I went ahead with the booking of the hotel and flight via the internet which was new to me at the time and I believe the first time I had made bookings in this way.  I got back to her and confirmed as she had requested and I then duly received her lists and meeting points via the post.  The trip was to take place very soon after these arrangements were made which was good because it gave me no time for pondering or possible regrets.  I cannot remember telling my partner but I clearly told him on one of my visits which I made daily after work.  I was beginning to feel very detached from him while he was in the mental hospital and in the hands of experienced practitioners who had while he was there taken him out of my hands.  

So on the day that came I drove to Stansted Airport and walked into the departures and arrivals hall and walked over to a small group and asked if they were Antonia's group for Venice.  There were eight people, females, and one male and Antonia.  She stepped forward and introduced herself.  I had one outfit with me for the week, a red top and flimsy trousers that I bought especially for the trip.   It was a matching voile set and I wore it each day.  I was travelling light.   It was August and Venice was going to be hot.  

Here are two photos of our group.  The group was accompanied by an art historian, Rodney, who was  to become a close friend of mine.  Rodney was an architect and had at the time of this trip just finished studying history of  art as a mature student at UEA, the same university I recently attended,  His course had included a six month residency in Venice so he was able to talk to us about the history of many of the churches.   He was informative, relaxed and fun.  He later went on to do a PhD on sacred buildings of the Middle East and I was to accompany him to some sites in Syria but this never happened because he fell ill following a fall from a skylight whilst working in his architectural practice and died. It was a very sad time.  (Rodney can be seen in the picture below, back view, talking to a few of the group).

 

 In the bottom picture you can see Antonia in the middle in the white vest top giving a demonstration to the group.   

Antonia died last year.  I did write about her a few times in my previous blog.  She was the lady I wrote about who developed cancer and decided not to have any treatment.  She was by now in her early 80s and she said that one session of chemotherapy knocked her for six, she collapsed in her kitchen when she got home and made a decision there and then to not go again.  She lived on in a normal life for another two years before passing early last year.   She introduced me to Venice and without seeing that newspaper article about her trip who knows, I might never have taken that one step to Venice which led to many more visits in the years to come.  I owed a great deal to her and for her solid, straightforward approach to all matters and for keeping my feet on the ground during a difficult time that I was going through.  That trip changed my life.  A couple of years later I left my job and went to art school to study fine art,  Rodney wrote my reference, I returned to Venice as a student myself on a student trip and a new chapter of my life had begun.