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By Jeff and Judy

All systems are "go"

Returning to earth ever-so-gently two days ago after a long overnight flight to London's Heathrow Airport Judy gripped my hand gently and whispered in her best Mission Control voice, "Houston, we have touchdown."

Don't ask me why but she talks funny like this on planes, in airports and especially near extra-terrestrial rocket launching pads and has ever since she became the world's greatest outer-space exploration fan in the 1960's.

In fact, her returning-astronaut repartee continued inside the terminal until we'd passed laboriously through customs and immigration and emerged into the usual crowd of people with hand-scribbled names on cardboard posters peering for arriving strangers and she said, "Re-entry is now complete."

It was her clever way of signalling our return to the only island on earth, other than the one we currently inhabit in the Caribbean, where we'd live permanently if we could also be guaranteed palm-fringed tropical beaches, sunshine at least once a day and cooling trade winds at night.

Instead of the one thing - among the many I hasten to add - that only Great Britain produces so well and in such abundance. That very finest of fine drizzles where tiny droplets seem to hang in the air - seemingly without budging an inch - for weeks on end.

But of course it didn't - and doesn't - matter.

It's exactly what you must expect and after picking-up our hire car - conveniently holding two giant brollies and transparent plastic macs - we drove down to Sussex to the private country estate where we are now spending the first three of thirty-one nights in European four-poster beds we've known and loved (and loved-in) through the years.

By the time we arrived at the long driveway our plan was hatched. We parked the car in a nearby thickish thicket and donning macs and hoisting umbrellas set-off by foot for a refreshing final mile. For old times' sakes remembering all our walks and rambles in the rain without which England just wouldn't be…well…England.

Naturally our host was shocked when two bedraggled sexagenarian cosmonauts hammered at his front door pleading for sanctuary.

He rushed us to our room, ordered us to get out of our wet things and told us to take our time adapting to conditions on earth.

And as he left after pointing to a bottle of Scotland's finest 12-Year-Old heart-warmer, Judy gripped my hand and whispered, "Houston, we have ignition."

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Just who are Jeff and Judy? Judy and Jeff Sellers are a US couple who love sunsets, world travel, fine wines, good food and each other. As often as possible and not necessarily in that order. They currently seek a congenial publisher for their "Frisky after Sixty" book ('A Good in Bed Read') and after many requests from friends all over the world waiting impatiently for their local newspapers to carry this column. To find out more go to Frisky After Sixty.




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