It’s always an adventure of sorts returning from Australia to family and friends in the UK! Due to the long, snaking passport queue and luggage delays, it took three hours to get from the plane to my sister’s front door in London. I had hoped to fly straight into my brother-in-law’s 70^th birthday party and had rested as much as possible on the plane so I’d be in sparkling form on arrival. As it turned out the only sparkle was on the glasses I helped wash up; I arrived just as the last guests were leaving! Never mind, I was still part of it and happy to muck in and help clear up. And the wonderful consolation prize was meeting – and cuddling – my newest grandchild aka great-nephew, Douglas Finlay, aged just over two weeks.  I was- and remain – totally smitten!

A couple of days later my nearly 92-year-old mother met me at her local train station in Nottinghamshire. She’s still doing short local drives – just…We had an eventful first week together what with her malfunctioning hearing aids, a pesky bladder infection popping up (every time I come over, I seem to troop to the surgery with a urine sample!), and an outbreak of mice.  Mice are canny and opportunistic little blighters; we first detected them feasting on bird food in the garage, then suddenly they seemed to be everywhere, reminding me of that song about a mouse living in a windmill in Old Amsterdam. Like their Dutch forbears these mice must have been wearing clogs – judging from the scrabbling in the roof space – and the clip-clippety-clop on the stairs.  Not only did we spot one dashing under the grandfather clock in the hall, another one had clearly been upstairs to the spare bedroom and into my suitcase where it had snacked on a (wrapped and sealed) muesli bar. All a bit too close for comfort!

Among the highlights at Mum’s were having my Yorkshire-based brother and sister-in-law overnight and preparing lunch for them and my Australian nephew and his wife. While that entailed a fair bit of shopping and catering for Mum to plan (flap and worry about!), it all went brilliantly and no rodents were in evidence. I also enjoyed watching the Wimbledon Men’s Singles Final with Mum – in real time. AND I got her to sit still for more than 20 minutes – we were both gripped by the long and hard-fought match with the 20-year-old Spaniard Alcaraz beating four-time defending champion Dubrovnik (Mum does a very good line in Spoonerisms).

Back in London the big treat was a trip to Covent Garden with my sister and brother-in-law to see one of my favourite operas, The Marriage of Figaro. I first got into opera as a 17-year-old in Vienna where I was an au pair girl to a stuffy family with minor aristocratic leanings. Back then, I would purchase a standing place at the back for a few Austrian Schillings. My ticket to Figaro was a very generous early ‘milestone’ birthday present from my sister. There’s something hallowed about the Royal Opera House with all that plush red velvet, gold and gilt edging. The music is sublime, the sets beautifully crafted and the staff attentive and gracious. And, always a rebel despite outward appearances, I love that we smuggled in our Sainsbury’s sandwiches and surreptitiously ate them at the bar with our pre-ordered dinks during the interval. While we all know and love Il Nozze di Figaro, numb bum did start to set in during Act Four. You can’t help wondering if there’s one too many layers of subterfuge, hiding in the bushes and letters falling into the wrong hands!

A few days later I went with other friends to an open-air opera at Holland Park in Kensington. Itch is a modern opera about science, adapted from a book about chemistry written by DJ Simon Mayo for his son –  and we attended was the world premiere. Against the backdrop of a brilliant set comprising 118 cubes – as in the periodic table – the plot involves the discovery of a new undiscovered element, a radioactive rock that has the power to solve the global energy crisis but also destroy humanity. Referencing climate change and the Gaia Theory and greedy corporations, it becomes a battle between the chemistry-obsessed schoolboy, Itchingham Lofte, and a bunch of corporate baddies.  I really enjoyed it and the soaring arias – accompanied by the City of London Sinfonia –wouldn’t have been out of place in a classical opera. The only drawback was the lashing rain – while the Holland Park Opera auditorium is under a canopy, the sides are open and it was none too warm! As I write this, it’s now August – but the UK has had the wettest July for years. Just my luck.

After the opera, I stayed with my friends at the Army and Navy Club in Pall Mall. It wasn’t as formal as I had imagined, and it was a treat staying in central London. My room reminded me of a cabin on a cruise ship and had everything I needed. The club has a rich history; the founder and First President was wounded in the Battle of Waterloo and – and here I’m missing the detail – there is some connection with the Entente Cordiale signed between Britain and France in 1904. The walls are lined with prints and pictures from wars, battles and country pursuits from the 1800s onwards – ranging from WWI cartoons and fox hunting scenes to portraits of members of the Royal Family across the ages including one of the young Queen Victoria. And then, as you might imagine, there are various trophies of the stuffed variety – from a greater kudu head to an emperor penguin from Scott’s Antarctic Expedition.

I book-ended this second London visit with an after party for my brother-in-law’s 70^th to make up for missing the first one. It was just about warm enough to sit outside and I loved catching up with friends over drinks and nibbles. The following morning, I was off to Devon to sample rural village life. More next time.