HI JOURNAL,
A PIECE BY YOURS TRULY.
As printed in my local support group's newsletter last month.
Written by Stewart West.
A Better Life Than Prince Charles.
Yes, for a few hours I felt I was really living like a king. Twilight sailing was the event. Although it is a yearly event, I had never been on this happening before.
So, arriving at the club house, with my newly aquired non marking soled designer sports shoes, purchased the day before, from my local op shop, (charityshop) Myres Plus for a doller each, my attention was caught, by the sign in the foyet indicating that the Parkinson's people were required to assemble in the Yaughties bar.
Into a bar I walked and asking the first gentleman I saw, if I was in the afore mentioned bar, the affirmative reply was followed by a request to remove my head gear, my bandana. I duly obliged offcourse, bringing to mind the question I had asked on arrival in the car park, as to whether to adopt a posh accent for the the evening. (tongue in cheek)
Meeting up with my fellow peers, I quenched my thirst with a glass of water, before we were herded into groups, pending the boarding of the yaughts.
Alas, no yaught for my herded group, non available!We all, I think, were happy to accept the offer, of boarding a motor launch, for a river cruise. River cruise? What happened to twilight sailing, and, did someone say 'river', dear me, I thought we were ocean bound !
Things were looking up though, when we were escorted, helped and waved off, by a most distiguished looking gentleman, resplendid in white starched uniform, eppelettes and all, who just happened to be a
                   'Rear Commadore' no less.               Most impressive indeed, old boy.
With passengers and crew, aboard and seated,
                     ''Praise be, to Nero's Neptune,                        the Titanic sails at dawn,                       and everybody is shouting,                        which side are you on."
Our newly appointed editor in chief, with friend, decided to go up to the pointed end, dear me, I forget what the front of a boat is called, anyway, between cuddles, they took photos of all and sundry.
Meanwhile I chatted and conversed, as is my want, with captain and peers, carers and wives, as well as with our fabulous fund raiser, who was trusted to take the helm, and a very good helmsperson she made too. The evening was getting better by the minute.
A gentleman recently arrived from Zimbabwe, taking over the helm as we came home, as it were. Handing control back over to the most excellent captain, boat owner and entertainer, in the very later stages, as we approached the landing jetty.
From the river, the views were magnificent, as we watched the sun go down, waving to our obviously thrilled peers, as we passed those in the yaughts, taking part in the organised race.
This was living, boy was I enjoying this, as I lapped up and savoured every minute of this very special evening. It was still getting better by the minute.
The lights were well and truly taking effect as I, being the last to leave the boat, was escorted, on the insistance of the Rear Comadore, no less, along the jetty to the club house, by an attractive young lady. Well, was I having fun now, my eyes were on stalks. I was having a ball. The evening was becoming even better.
I joked with someone, remarking that right now, I was having a better life  than Prince Charles. I was on such a natural high.
I enjoyed my meal with delightfull company, as stories were swapped with people and peers, carers, wives and husbands, most of whom I was meeting for the first time.
People traveling with Parkinson's Condition are the most delightfull of people to get along with, easy to be with.  
As goodbyes and thankyous were being said, I was left to reflect, on this wonderful evening, which had for me, such a sense of occassion, it will live long in my memory. I pondered, can life really get any better than this.