My plan worked.
I sneaked back home without anyone knowing.
I did it solely to see the look on my Mum's face to be honest. That did mean not telling anyone else in case my arrival was leaked. There would be press everywhere, and I didn't want to put peoples lives at risk, like Prince Harry had done.
As always a select few had to know. Kelly and my brother were the chosen few.
Kelly, because she might have wondered where I disappeared too while she was teaching Thai children to speak English, with a Treboeth accent, and my brother cause he lives fifteen minutes from Heathrow airport and could come and pick me up at half six in the morning.
I managed to get a bargain flight in Bangkok off Tony (he definitely liked my hair), who had upgraded me to first class when I was in Sydney. As I had to go somewhere after Thailand, I enquired where he had some cheap flights too. The fact that he instantly came up with London for next to nothing, seemed like fate so I accepted his offer and here I am.
Shows how bloody easy it is to pop home. A few hours on a plane and your back in our lovely country.
Its always nice to come home. I'd never been on a holiday longer than about 10 days apart from my trip to the USA, in my whole life so five months was something a bit different for me. The majority of them holidays were in a caravan in Cirencester, so to end up halfway round the world was a slightly new experience.
You can only take so much in before, I suppose you start to take things for granted, and feel you are a wasting some experiences.
I didn't feel homesick. Not sure what that should feel like. Do you start retching your guts up?
Anyway, after staying in Addlestone and re-adjusting to Britain it was time to head back to Cymru. As we drove through the Surrey streets, I looked on amazed at British number plates, Wilkinsons shops, and tracksuit wearing, moustached, baseball hat wearing pedestrians.
It was good to see the women hadn't changed. Felt right.
Hearing the Welsh accent on the train home was strange.
Nice I thought at first until some ponce got on and started up on his mobile,
'Hi Baby, its me. I'm on a train.'
Already I was wishing he was under it.
'Its a lush day dos you wants to dos something this evening baby.'
Obviously I could only hear his side of the conversation. She (or maybe he) must have proposed a great plan for their evenings entertainment, and he concluded with a line that had me thinking those yanks weren't so bad after all;
'That sounds lush babe. I fancies that, almost as much as I fancies you.'
I folded the table down and bit into it as hard as I could to alleviate the sheer attack of irritating cheesy crud.
I wouldn't have minded so much, but he was bellowing at the top of his voice, as they always do.
So I battered him to death with a First Great Western ham & tomato baguette, and threw his corpse out the window as we passed Pyle.
After being on trains for over 10 hours as a norm, it was amazing how quick we got to Swansea. I realise now my brother only lives up the road in relative distances. Must make the effort to see him more than every seven years.
I'm not joking but as I emerged from the station (I really couldn't include the station) everything seemed really clean. Like someone had polished all the buildings and the roads and the people. Even the cans of Special Vat the tramps were holding shone in the Welsh sunshine Obviously someone knew I was coming the place looked so tidy. Its as if the Queen was coming to visit soon or something.
Maybe everything is a bit cleaner than other places around the world, and now I was noticing it. We don't know how lucky we are.
I walked round the corner to get a taxi and I was spoken to, no shouted at by my first Swansea person on my return.
'MATE, OH MATE. MATE. HERE, MATE. NOW HERE, MATE '
To be honest I thought he was trying to get the attention of someone in Fforestfach, such was his volume, so I ignored him.
He caught the attention of the lady behind me though, and it turns out he wanted his picture taken with his girlfriend outside High St station.
A simple, 'Excuse me my young friend. Nice hair by the way. I was wondering if you could spare a minute of your time to capture a photograph of me and my good lady before we depart for Barry on the 15:34?' would have sufficed.
No, I got someone bellowing MATE in my face, with a fag hanging off his lip and a box of carling under his arm.
They eventually got their photo done, after his good lady, had straightened her baseball cap and adjusted her moustache.
Home sweet home.
I'd instructed my Mother to be by the computer at the rough time I would arrive back in Dunvant. This meant she would be in and I wouldn't have to spend a couple of hours in the shed, as I had no key.
I rang her on my mobile from the top of the road where I had got out of the taxi. The taxi driver didn't say a word to me all the way home by the way. Very peculiar.
She thought I was in a Bangkok internet cafe and wondered why I was ringing her on the house phone.
I didn't want her to see me walking down the road as this would have ruined the surprise, so I told her to go on the computer, where I knew she would be out of the way at the back of the house.
She couldn't do this as the house phone was now only downstairs and attached to the wall, as they are.
I was gonna tell her to answer the door and then knock it but I could already hear the great confusion on the other end of the the line, so I just told her to open the door and look outside.
She couldn't do that as the dog would run out.
So I gave up and booked the next flight back to Bangkok and left.
No, I stood at the end of the drive and the door opened. She looked out.
Straight up in the air, not even noticing me.
She would later inform me that she thought I must have booked a plane to fly past with a message pulled behind it for Mother's Day. Now you know why I'm like I am.
Then she spotted me. I had considered I might cause her to have a heart attack, feint or headbutt me full out, but I wasn't prepared for that sort of language. She wouldn't be out of place on the old north bank.
Her screams must have had the neighbours thinking there was another murder in the street!
Then the dog came form nowhere like the Hound of the Baskervilles and attacked me.
Welcome home.
Fair do's the dog remembered me and her onslaught was entirely friendly. After the Air ambulance had left and my Mum was revived she put the kettle on and kept pinching me to see if I was real. My, 'Piss off, that urts,' confirmed I wasn't a figment of her imagination brought on by overdosing on Richard & Judy, and QVC.
I think she was rather pleased to see me.
I will spend most of my time on my second leg travelling round Canada, trying to think of a better surprise for my next return. It will have to be something good and original.
Maybe I'll break in at about 4 in the morning and shout 'SURPRISE,' dressed as Thora Hird.
That couldn't have been done more than a couple of times before.
