Isle of Wight memories.

 Isle of Wight memories.

It was our last night on the Isle of Wight. The nostalgic, disco glitter ball was still swirling around a dance floor the size of a matchbox but for most of us it was time to pack up our early August summer holiday suitcase and head for home. The reflections on days gone past were still snugly preserved in our memories for many a year and we were determined to enjoy every single moment of our brief but welcome break on this most idyllic island.

My wife and yours truly had booked this Isle of Wight voyage of discovery at the start of the first lockdown in late February 2020 little knowing that it would have to be cancelled until further notice. Covid 19 had begun to establish itself in our consciousness, the world was shutting down for the foreseeable future and some of us were cursing under our collective breaths at the time, regretting what might have been but not at all sure how long would it take before we'd ever be able to contemplate any kind of holiday. 

But last Thursday we were once again allowed to venture into the wide open spaces of the English countryside and  hook up with humanity. We wedged our groaning suitcases into the back of the car, set off onto those long, winding motorways and finally ended up at Portsmouth. Here we embarked on the ferry, the one method of transport which seemed to be eternally forbidden until a couple of months ago.

After a whirlwind 45 minute boat trip we made our way to our hotel and abandoned ourselves to a quiet, peaceful holiday location on this most historic of English islands. The hospitality was flawless, the people even nicer and friendlier but then we knew they would be. Most of the guests were predominantly retired and elderly, charming to the hilt and just delighted to see people again. The hotels were open again, the local shops were up and running for business, the cafes, restaurants and charity shops simply bristling with activity and lucrative profit margins. 

From the moment we dropped our bags at reception we knew that every member of staff would be bending over backwards to smile, help us and welcome us with warm cordiality. We unloaded our clothes into our capacious wardrobes, settled down for the night and just got on with having a good time. There are times when you know that things are somehow destined to go well for you and that was a premonition that had to be a self fulfilling prophecy. Of course the Isle of Wight was always likely to be right. 

Our first day was accompanied by heavy rains, not quite in the monsoon league but we were not to be deterred. We had at our disposal our pullovers, mackintoshes and umbrellas just in case the heavens opened again and again throughout the day. Isn't it funny how the English weather and climate can have so many varieties and variations on a theme and yet the rain always feels like a constant and the inevitable accompaniment to the best laid plans? Still, not to matter. Who cares what the weatherman says you'll never hear us complaining?

On day one we drove up to Osbourne House, the palatial home of Queen Victoria and it chucked it down. In fact by the time we arrived inside this stately royal home some of us were tempted to do a feeble impersonation of Gene Kelly, he of the umbrella and the enduringly hummable 'Singin in the Rain', an apposite choice of song given the surroundings but nonetheless ironic.

Osbourne House, it has to be said, is one of those breathtakingly historic buildings that still ticks all of the boxes and meets all of those lofty expectations. It is, undoubtedly a stunning edifice, a remarkable legacy of not only the Victorian age but one that Queen Victoria must have just loved living in. In fact it was perhaps the one outstanding piece of royal property and land that rooted her firmly to her place in a world she had been so privileged to be a part of.

To say that Osbourne House was the eptiome of wealth, opulence, style and class would be a gross understatement. We were both left with the overriding impression Queen Victoria did like her paintings and wherever you went this was the recurring theme. There were portraits and landscapes in every room that you went into and the kind of furniture that you would have expected to see. There were expansive acres of mirrors that seemed to take up the whole of the walls, chests of drawers that were dripping with perhaps hidden secrets or just fond reminiscences in diaries and valuable documents. 

There were magnificent banqueting tables, long tables with expensive glasses, candlesticks, crockery and cutlery while not forgetting the bowls of fruits, soup plates and bowls. Queen Victoria certainly didn't do things by half and did like a royal knees up when the occasion merited it. But then her adoring husband Albert, who Queen Victoria was simply besotted with, suddenly died and the monarch would never really recover. She fell into the gravest state of mourning for the rest of her life, was alleged not to have been amused and then passed away in January 1901. It would be the end of Victoriana. 

The next day we were up, bright and early for a trip on the Isle of Wight steam railway. Now this was a day out that would have lit up the face of a young child who can only identify with those big, electric miracles of engineering that purr and hum into a railway station overhead or get stuck on the Northern Line tracks on the London Tube network. The steam railway seemed like another affectionate reminder of Dickens final years and chimney sweeps with dirty faces. 

The steam railway was the way it used to be, a golden throwback to an age when those self same youngsters would stand by their platforms, open up their notebooks, eagerly anticipate the arrival of the 2-15 from Chester and then take down the number of the said train. This steam railway train amounted to what seemed like the shortest train trip my wife and yours truly had ever made. It has to be said that there were no hanging baskets of flowers to greet us but the carriages adverts were both memorable and evocative. Everything somehow seemed so ridiculously cheap and the seats so comfortable that you could easily imagine whole hordes of City based bank clerks in pin striped suits and bowler hats. 

Wherever you looked there were enticing souvenir shops and bric a brac, much loved pencils, fridge magnets, postcards and glorious ornaments. There was a strong naval flavour about some of the products on sale and the Isle of Wight did boast a handsome collection of yachts, speedboats and luxurious cruisers. But then we retired for frequent lunch and tea breaks by way of conserving our energy for the next tourist attraction.

We then proceeded to a Garlic farm and this was the one place that would have quite literally lifted your heart and kept it healthy for the rest of your life. There were cloves of garlic, garlic jam, garlic seeds and everything garlicky. My wife just couldn't be pulled away. The health giving properties that garlic has been traditionally renowned for were now in our shopping bags. And of course there was garlic bread. 

Our next rewarding port of call was the Owl and Monkey Haven. Now this was the perfect opportunity to catch up with our animal friends. For well over a year and half, millions of children and families have been deprived of the chance of giggling at leaping monkeys, admiring the giant giraffes, elephants and bisons galore. Then there were those ferocious lions who wouldn't really hurt a fly but would chance their luck with humans if we ever came even remotely close to them. 

But here we had enclosure after enclosure of owls. There were shy owls who would just sit on their perches with an air of complete indifference to the outside world. Those wide, saucer like eyes would glare at you with immense curiosity or would simply close and squint their eyes totally disinterested. You couldn't read their body language as such but there was a contentment with their own company that none could ever question. 

Then there were the hilarious monkeys. How can any of this visit to any zoo throughout the world be complete without a temporary appointment with the monkeys? These wonderful primates are so irresistibly funny and full of the joys of spring that most of us can't get enough. There were the capuchins with their endlessly feathery tails and then just a theatrical family of chimps and monkeys who just wanted to show off. There were feuding brothers, an old mum just curled up on her own and one who melted your heart when you saw one of them wrapping a maternal shoulder around her offspring. Every so often they would swing athletically and energetically from one tree branch to another at lightning speed. 

On one afternoon we retreated to one of those chocolate box tea shops that the English take unashamed pride in boasting about. After a brief wander around, we alighted on one tea shop that Lewis Carroll must have written about at some point. It was deliciously small, intimate and quaint, the staff  simply rushed off their feet. We had to wait patiently for our turn. We were ushered to our seats and then hid away in the corner. The Mad Hatter failed to jump out of the kitchen but two delightful ladies served us kindly and courteously. Yours truly tucked into scones, jam and cream with the obligatory triangular sandwiches. Life indeed was profusely sweet. 

The Isle of Wight has always been synonymous for its impossibly joyous coastline that stretches from Dorset, the famous Needles and a landscape that swoops and dips almost incessantly. Our last day was spent casually taking in the delights of yet more fragrant villages that would have been quite happy to snore away the afternoon. 

Our evening meals were quite naturally sumptuous and tasty and the breakfasts were superb examples of haute cuisine. The evening entertainment was devoted to the usual sessions of bingo from an eminently agreeable manager, various singers, keyboard artists and the singalong karaoke sessions that just got better with every night. And then after five days of  happy wandering and nuggets of tourists gold we got back in our car, replete with holiday satisfaction. Yes the Isle of Wight was the perfect antidote to lockdown, the loveliest of breaks. Book now to avoid any disappointment.