9/1/2026 Last Day in Newmarket

Another pants night but a face time with Dylan updating me on his first week in training put a smile on this miserable old face . He sent a video of him in his uniform and he looks fantastic. Si would be so bloody proud of him. He’s having a blast, and loving every minute, he’s got his uniform, and is getting sworn in tomorrow which is very  exciting. He’s doing it in Welsh, along with 5 others.  I was quite surprised when he said that number ones are no longer allocated to the individual, instead measurements are taken and kept on file in stores and when you need a set for court you put in a request and then collect them . Cost cutting I guess. He’s spoken to his training sergeant about having Simon's collar number and she kindly sent him the email address of the person he needs to contact about it. He has sent it and received acknowledgment of his request, so hopefully he will hear something very soon.  It won't be ‘676’ because South Wales has 5 digit collar numbers, but if he can get the number in there in some form he will be a happy boy, and I will know that Si is keeping him safe by being literally sat on his shoulder.  He was telling me about some of the others on his intake, of which he is the youngest, not only that he is also the youngest recruit they've had in a long time .  There is a girl who’s dad is a Chief Inspector and he has the nickname of Big Fish. Her older sister is in the job and she is Little Fish. Now she’s joined and started her training and has picked up the nickname of…. Cardboard Box... in her first week. Dylan doesn’t know her real name. There is another lad there who won a competition eating lettuce, he will now forevermore be known as lettuce. Which is hilarious.  Dylan declined to share any weird and wonderful anecdotes about himself , claiming not to have any.  I refreshed his memory for him with several highly amusing ones, to which his response was “Flairey, somethings  belong in the past and that's where they'll be staying”  Whilst he’s right I feel it might be highly amusing to explore it! Maybe not with his class or trainers though. 

After well over an hour chatting, which I have to say provided me with some welcome distraction he needed to be getting some sleep and. I dragged my sizable ass out of my bed, had a shower,  dressed and went down to the Mall to get my nails done.  I feel it’s a bit of a waste of money to be honest, on the other hand in this particular nail bar I had a foot spa,and a back, neck and leg massage while she was doing my toes. Then, before she painted them I received a foot and leg massage which was divine followed by a hot stone massage on my lower legs and feet. Oh. My. God  it was absolutely incredible! I could barely move after she'd finished my trotters. They are now a rather delightful shade of pink called  ‘summer fairy’. I was given a pair of bright blue foam flip flops to wear as I waited for my nails to dry. With them on my hooves I shuffled over to the desk to get my finger nails done.

The colours are obviously numbered as well as named and I wanted ‘676’ on my fingers and It should have been a “true red” however, like my Si, it was no longer available. As I am currently incapable of making any decisions at speed it took me quite some time to settle on a coral pink colour, it feels a bit tropical and therefore appropriate for Rarotonga.  When they were done, I was treated to a wonderful hand and arm massage to go with my back and legs, and it was still cheaper than getting a manicure at home with all that extra pampering. I didn't want to smudge my toes and I’d worn my barefoot shoes down to the Mall,  I opted to leave the blue foam flip flops on for a little while and shuffled out the salon, plonking myself on the blue comfy seats just outside. There I sat for another hour, watching the world go by, sipping my water and practically floating above my seat. 

I finally decided my toes were dry and went to find a coffee and restroom. The restroom was located first and as I was going in, there was a guy in his 20’s being escorted out of the gents toilets by Mall security guards, who were carrying 2 shopping bags full of groceries. When I came out, they had emptied the bags out and the majority of the contents were cherries. It appeared he had a receipt for a loaf of cheap sliced bread, but for nothing else. Obviously being a nosy old boot I wanted to know what was going on, so sat down at the table close by and ear wigged. I overheard they were waiting for the police to arrive as the store was keen to take action for the rest of the stuff. Thieving little fucker, serves him right.  As I was already sitting at the cafe’s table I felt obliged to have a coffee. It was called the Red Rabbit, and Morg had recommended it a few days ago, so I decided to try it, and it was very nice, thanks Morg, you appear to really know your coffee. 

In readiness for going back to work on Monday, Morgan had to take the works truck for a service and the New Zealand equivalent of an MOT. He’s allowed to use it  for his personal use and has been driving us around in it since I arrived. I love that it's nice and high and pretty boxy with an enormous windscreen making it perfect for drive-by photographs! He'd dropped it off this morning at 0700 hours, just 15 minutes from his house and was waiting around all day for the call to go and collect it. We’d made plans to go out for dinner and to the cinema as it was my last night in Newmarket, before flying to Rarotonga. Due to the truck not being ready for  collection earlier, we changed our plans. In honesty it was probably for the best, I'm not sleeping that well, I'm exhausted and have an uncomfortable flight in the morning. So our new plan was that Morgan would come to me,  and we'd watch a film together and order some food in. He was a bit savage about the truck taking all day, and even more so at being given feeble excuses from the garage when they'd promised it would be done in two hours.

Typically there was only Stuart Little on the Tv to watch and if you think I'm going to sit and watch a film about a goddamn mouse you've got another thing coming. Morg couldn't stop laughing, knowing only too well how much I loathe rodents, even CGI ones.  We fired up the laptop, projected it to the tv and watched Venom. When it had finished, Vinny Jones’ Farm programme was on, I've heard about it but never watched it. There was a segment about Vinny's builder struggling with the death of his father, and there were a few things mentioned grief related that caused Morg to shout out ‘Yeah a bit louder for those at the back’ as he looked at me.  How Rude, there were some good takeaways from it though.

Morg made a move at 2200 and I repacked my bloody bag again. As I say, my decision making skills are on the floor at the moment, and I am seemingly incapable of the most simple of tasks. Which is more than a little bit irritating. He'd bought a shopping bag for me which I intended to take tomorrow to put my beach stuff in, however I filled it with clothes I'd taken out of my sturdy rucksack. He mentioned that perhaps it might be an idea to purchase a different suitcase if I'm going to continue to travel, maybe one with wheels on. That idea wasn't particularly well received. Our sturdy rucksack has travelled many thousands of miles with Si and I, and as such I have absolutely no intention of reverting to a suitcase. Besides it will fit on my lap no problem at all when I'm in Mildred, I can see over the top of it as I'm bowling along and it's squishy, it's full of our memories and it carries a part of Si with me. I do see what he's saying, he's trying to make things easier for me, but I won't be buying a suitcase on wheels anytime soon.  Morgan was concerned as to how I was going to carry the sturdy one as for some reason its a little heavy, I may have gone overboard with the amount of mosquito spray, aloe vera and moisturiser i've packed and he had visions of me being pulled over backwards with the weight of it ending up flat on my back, arms and legs waving all over the place rocking on the rucksack like a stranded tortoise. It had the desired effect of making me laugh and reminded me of a similar incident that occurred when I was working in Blaenavon single crewed. I'd had my feet fly out from underneath me in the snow, landed on my back, head facing downhill ( Blaenavon being a tad steep ) and due to the number of layers I had on, a stab vest, two winter weight fleeces, a high viz and two hot water bottles, (it was bloody freezing and I was on an afternoon shift)  I was rocking there on all my layers for a minute or so until i managed to spin myself around in the snow like a break dancer and get my head facing up hill so i could use the hill to my advantage and roll back over and scrabble to my feet. I have never been so relieved to be out walking in the dark in the snow with no one  around to witness it. I was actually most grateful my fall hadn't burst my hot water bottles!

I figure that as I've already had a similarly embarrassing incident it's not likely to occur again.  Besides, I shall be utilizing the special assistance in the airport and on the other end I'll pull out my “I'm feeble” card and I’m hopeful that I will get some assistance. As always I will be fine, because I have no option to be anything else. 

I had another cup of tea and a coconut biscuit which Morg had left in case I fancied a snack, set my alarm for 0445 and thought it might be a good plan to try and get some sleep…

Much Love

Mrs Leonard

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