The Story So Far
In my last post, we had made friends with Daryl and Lea, the first of three volunteers who were interested enough to take part in our Tour Downunder travel blogs. We wanted to hear from fellow Parkies about any positives they could take from having Parkinson’s. We’d joined Darryl and Lea for a chat over fish and chips in Freeo, and found ourselves chatting like old friends who haven’t seen each other for some time. We very much enjoyed their company, finding that Darryl and I had similar Parkinson’s stories and laughing as we poked fun at ourselves and the little things that are now so fiddly and annoying but which we used to do without thinking. You can read about our tour conversation in “Doing it While I Can Tour 2026: Fish Chips and Mushy PDs
We had planned to meet our next guest contributor to the “Doing it While I Can Tour 2026 Blog in Melbourne where we would stay with our friends Stuart and Jacqui. We had hoped to spend a few hours having a chat with Jacqui’s dad (Phil) during our stay about his Parkinson’s experience but sadly had to postpone meeting with Phil as he was feeling under the weather.
The Parkinson’s Godmother: “I will do this favour for you but….”
Our final contributors to the “Doing it Down Under Tour “ travel blog and I were introduced by mutual friends Rosie and Colin. Married for many years, they’ve known Rosie and Colin for more of those than they care to remember. Tony and Colin are both proud alumni of the Thames Valley Grammar School in Twickenham, and have been regularly causing trouble together since meeting there. In comparison I’ve only known Rosie and Colin for a short time. Rosie encouraged me to contact Tony and Tess after I’d mentioned our plans for the tour this summer over coffee. When a senior member of a local Parkinson’s ‘family’ says she will introduce you as a favour, [in Don Corleone’s voice] “it’s not optional”.
Rosie is one of the first people with Parkinson’s that I became friends with post diagnosis. It seemed a big step at the time, putting myself out there– joining a Parkinson’s event at which I might meet others in a similar or worse position as me. Anecdotally, it appears this is an apprehension I shared with many ‘newbies’ who deprive themselves of an important source of support, by not seeking out others in the same position. They fear a glimpse into a possible future with more complex issues. They also wrongly assume the classic stereotype must be true and anyone else with the condition must be ‘old’ and have little in common.
Donna Rosemary is far from being the head of the local mafia and as far as I know, has never sent anyone to sleep with the fishes. It was actually Rosie who inspired me to ‘get over myself’ and embrace the Parkinson’s ‘family’. I have been enjoying the community’s friendship and support [in Don Corleone’s voice] “and protection” ever since.
Rosemary and Colin are all the proof I need that age is only a number—it is definitely not a sentence. Rosie jokes that they are such good friends with Tony that he kindly ‘gave’ her the gift which keeps on giving—Parkinson’s. The two Brits were hosted by Tony and Tess for a few weeks several years ago. She regularly joined in with Tony in his daily routine of PD Warrior exercises. Surprised how much she enjoyed the workout she remembered thinking they were useful for people like herself without the condition. Ironically, on returning to the U.K., Rosie received her very own Parkinson’s diagnosis.
From their introduction, I was sure I’d quickly discover Tony and Tess would be made of the same stuff as my friends: a magic combination of humor and zest for life that leads them in many directions. I was very much looking forward to meeting them down-under.
Craters, Volcanoes, Lush Grass, and Laid-Back Cows
Some weeks into our trip we were invited to lunch. Tony provided directions to their home just outside of Murwillumbah—or “Mur’bah” for short. Tony’s directions highlighted his humorous and inquisitive personality, including a geological overview of the area we would drive through. Mur’bah is situated in the second-biggest crater on Earth apparently, and the impact that caused it, created many volcanoes during this massive event. We were reassured to hear that the volcanoes were ancient, and could rest assured that any smoke would almost certainly have cleared by the time of our arrival.
With Cathy volunteering to be our designated driver throughout the tour—I was feeling relaxed as we followed Tony’s directions. Drifting past the beautiful local scenery bathed in sunlight, our car climbed over the ridge of the crater. Finally we descended through rolling green hills to the sugar cane-carpeted floor of the crater, flattened over thousands of years by the work of the meandering River Tweed.
Matchbox houses constructed in the Queenslander style perched on the hill-side cantileverd out above the valley below, held up by slender stilts to catch a cooling breeze.
We found their house nestled at the top of their own corner of this marvelous countryside. The air was fresh and the sky clear, as the sun comforted laid-back cattle that dotted the surrounding fields as they casually grazed the lush grass. I could instantly see why they decided to retire here.
Tess lived in the UK with Tony for many years before returning to her native Australia. The couple took the opportunity to acquire the property 25 years ago after stumbling across their “forever house” during a visit home to Aussie. It is a beautiful, airy bungalow with a large open-plan kitchen and dining area that leads onto a shady patio overlooking their garden and the surrounding rolling fields.
‘Baa-baa-queues’, Lamb Chops, Tales and Concorde’s Stability
Receiving a very warm welcome from our hosts—and an equally enthusiastic one from Max, their labradoodle—we spent the afternoon listening to fascinating stories. We heard how our hosts met while working in the UK and the tale of Tess’s Polish grandfather’s escape across Europe to join the RAF during WWII. After the war he emigrated to Australia starting the Aussie branch of the family tree from which Tess had sprung. Tony filled any breaks between stories, eagerly filling any space he could with tales of his school-day adventures that transported us back to a bygone era. Tony’s warm delivery was eagerly soaked up by the Pritchard family. We feasted on grilled lamb chops expertly cooked on the BBQ by Tony. My 13-year-old son enthusiastically devoured his share and anyone else’s he could stick his fork into, which I hope impressed our hosts. If there is one superpower I have passed on to my son, it’s the ability to endear oneself to one’s hosts by eating and drinking everything they lovingly prepare and place in front of their guests to consume.
As the conversation meandered like the river Tweed below us, we discovered plenty of non-Parkinsonian similarities between us. Tony had studied at Surrey University in the late 1960s and later lived with Tess in their first home in Surrey. I had attended the same university as Tony graduating in the early 1990’s. Cathy and I lived in the county for several years before we moved to Oxford.
I was impressed by Tony’s varied career as a mathematician, businessman, and entrepreneur and as a young mathematician he mentioned working on some complex stability calculations for Concorde.
The enthusiasm of youth
I imagine that Tony enjoys creative thinking, and seems full of ideas and a boundless energy to pursue them. He has written several papers on a range of subjects. The local water committee in Mur’bah is currently benefiting from some of his recent thinking, having proposed a series of underground pipes that could be used to irrigate and store water. The local cane farms benefitting from irrigation without the evaporation losses typical of open water dams. He mentioned also doing some research into a method for removing “forever chemicals” from public drinking water that can be easily connected household plumbing.
Tony grew up in Twickenham attending the same school as our mutual friend Colin (Rosie’s husband, Rosie being my friend who jokes that Tony gave her Parkinson’s if you remember). I loved how enthusiastically he dug out his old school blazer and insisted I wear it for our group photo. I felt honoured. I caught several glimpses of Tony the schoolboy as he enthusiastically shared his ideas, achievements, and prized possessions with us—we were being happily entertained, as we tried to keep up with the stream of fascinating facts and figures, stuffing them into any available space between the ears we could find that hadn’t already been filled. There seemed so much Tony had to tell us, but so little time in a single afternoon to do so.
Do we have to talk about Parkinson’s?
With so many interesting stories to listen to, talking about our common diagnosis found itself being naturally relegated down the agenda as more positive topics were added above it.
Finally, we did briefly compare some Parky notes. Tony’s main symptoms affect his gait and slow him down and we agreed on how frustrating things can be when “OFF”. In Tess, I recognised that Tony also has an extremely supportive partner helping him navigate the sea of variables that affect how well he manages living with the disease on a daily basis.
Tractor Mowers, Drag Racing and Douhnuts
Leaving Tess and Cathy engaged in conversation on the patio, my son and I walked down to the lower part of the garden and found Tony proudly sitting astride his mini tractor waiting for us at the opposite end of the grass. Having offered us a driving lesson, my son and I jumped at the chance to have a go on one. We tried hard not to break out into a run, racing each other to be the first to the end of the garden, calling first dibs on the promised driving experience.
Tony very patiently explained to us how to stop and start the tractor. I let my son have a go first, holding back my inner 13 year old self, who instinctively wanted to barge in front and have first crack. Unfortunately, time was advancing and Cathy reminded us that we were on a tight schedule, so I had to make do with a couple of laps of the garden once my son stopped hogging the vehicle.
With my inner teenager now fully hero-worshiping Tony and naturally drawn to his “have-a-go” energy, and his positive philosophy on life, it was time to continue our journey north to our next tour destination in Queensland. We said our goodbyes, and thanked our hosts for the lovely lunch, warm reception, great conversation and afternoon’s entertainment.
Conclusions: Nobody wants Parkinson’s, But It does Brings Out the Best in Us
We were all feeling warmed by the sun as it continued setting and we left Tony, Tess and Max watching from their front step as we drove off. Rolling down their drive and turning into the road, inside our car the warmth we were absorbing from the sun was being multiplied by Team Pritchard as we reflected on such a lovely time spent in the company of people we once again had only just met.
The afternoon had served only to convince me still further that people with PD, certainly the ones I meet anyway, are a special breed, determined to live their best life despite their condition. They try their hardest to maintain a positive attitude towards life, but let’s face it, it’s difficult enough to do even without a degenerative brain disease. The unexpected handgrenades that Parkinson’s tosses their way often causes set backs, but they are experts at picking themselves up, dusting themselves down and carrying on again regardless.
So to Tess and Tony, and Lea and Darryl, thank you for your time and making the diversions we made from our holiday so memorable.
