The diagnosis? Chicken pox...
You would have thought the drive from Le Havre to Torrevieja could be difficult, but that was as easy as pie compared to Sarah’s flight down.
As she boarded the plane with our toddler Freddie and seven-month-old baby Holly, she was told of a delay in take-off.
It was our children’s first flight. Freddie would look out of the window at 35,000ft, speeding along at 500mph, looking down at ‘Daddah’ doing 70mph at 10 feet!
It’s a 50-minute drive to Alicante airport and I arrived early to pick them up. Then my phone went off. It was Sarah. How? ‘We are in Limoges!’.
Her plane had to make an emergency landing in central France for a medical emergency. The cabin crew were excellent in helping Sarah as nappy changes had to happen as the flight time was extended.
As we were reunited, our holiday settled down.
I had already made a large food shop the morning of their arrival, but by Tuesday, things were going off in the fridge. Turns out it wasn’t working properly. Years of stifling heat had taken their toll.
I had to venture out and find a white-goods company who could deliver a new fridge/freezer the next day. A morning’s search and job done. Sadly, we had to do another massive food shop.
Then back luck number three. Red spots started to appear on Freddie.
Sadly, we found the only doctors’ surgery in the Costa Blanca that didn’t have a bilingual paediatrician. I had to ask fellow patients if anyone spoke English and Spanish.
The diagnosis – chicken pox. We were told no sun, no swimming and no flying! We now have to wait until tomorrow to find out if he can fly home this weekend.
If not, we have to stay here in our mate’s villa until he is no longer infectious.
Wouldn’t it be awful if Holly comes down with it too and we are stuck here in 30C heat for another week?