Yes! it’s back to camper vanning … motorhoming? Well, nearly, but technically not. This Adria Twin on a Fiat Ducato base is strictly speaking a van conversion, but it has the features of a motorhome in a very small space; fixed bed at the back, sink, hob, fridge, wet room with toilet, sink and shower. Dining space and swivel front seats, four belted seats in total and lots of storage space. Looking at the number plate, you might think we’d call him ‘Mix-Up’, but we’ve settled for ‘Ducky’ instead. (Fiat DUCato, see?)

How did this happen? Well, towards the end of last year, I began looking for another van. Jean had expressed an interest in ‘doing’ Scotland in a campervan, and it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. But investigating the possiblility of hiring a van led to a dead end since no-one would insure me, so thoughts turned to the possibility of owning one again, and there was the option of a further advance following the loan for the teeth job! I didn’t want to go as big as Harry (Citroën Flash 04) but didn’t want to go back to having to clear the tea / dinner table in order to make up the bed! The Adria Twin is (or was) reckoned to be the outstanding example of design of motohome facilities ‘squidged’ into campervan space, so I looked at several. (I did, in fact, look at a ‘Harry’, but it was old and tatty, with the shower door missing, and anyway, it was sold before I came to a definite ‘no’.) When Jean came with me to look at Ducky in Cheshire, she said ‘I love it!’, so deposit was paid before Christmas but it was left at the dealer’s pending agreement on a suitable date for ‘handover’.

Then on Saturday, January 24th, Rachel drove us over – with Ava for additional support – to collect the van from Northwich; we had lunch at the nearby pub, and drove back in separate vehicles, of course. Parking up on the drive at 141, I was surprised how much drive space Ducky took up – I thought he was smaller than Harry … well, he is, but only a bit!

Next day, Sunday 25th January: Rachel and Ava were still here, and we were joined by Chris, Michelle and Sean (Grandson) for lunch, which was followed by a little ‘Welcome, Ducky!’ ceremony involving a bubbly brew from Limoux! Some readers will remember Limoux!

I suspect some people thought I might smash the bottle over Ducky’s headlights – but that sort of silliness was never going to happen.

(Yes, there was food, sandwiches, but we’ve eaten it / them!)

Now there’s talk of getting a little car – Smart? – to tow behind the van! Rachel spent two days out with me last week looking at possibilities. No decision yet, so really it’s just a case of …. watch this space!

The last chapter was posted one month before the ‘Ghost Train’ read-through, in tribute to Arnold Ridley. I was really grateful for the support of family members in this – especially those who travelled some distance to be with us and contribute to the reading.

N.B. The box on the table did not contain what it says! It carried the books kindly obtained for me by the Lawrence Batley Theatre Play Reading Group from the Leeds Library. Two members of that group can be seen to left of the first photo. The reading was successful and I think those present enjoyed it, whether joining in or listening.

Now for that Christmas trip! I hope not to go on too long, nor concentrate on the disappointments, but to show my pick of the pics with brief day-by-day notes:

Day one, Monday 22nd December: 2.10am – joined the ‘feeder’ coach in the middle of Huddersfield in pouring rain! Travelled to Folkestone to join our ‘Luxuria’ coach. This was decorated for Christmas, and after dark fairy lights constantly changed between red and yellow and blue and green:

At Dover, no-one noticed the phantom reindeer stalking the ridge between the castle and the white cliffs!

After the crossing – smooth but disappointing food – several hours travelling to Brussels for overnight at one of the hotels at the airport. Luxuria certainly gives more leg room and elbow room than an ‘ordinary’ coach, and if you want it, your own little screen can play music, show films, or at times show the road ahead as seen by the dashboard camera. Service and food at the hotel’s restaurant was a further disappointment – ’nuff said.

Day 2, Tuesday 23rd: A long onward journey to Kufstein in Austria.

We look like a couple of happy travellers!

Day 3, Wednesday 24th: Excursion to Salzburg. Gave up looking for a restaurant specialising in fish (no fish choice at the hotel), but found the Chrismas Market, with a skating rink beside it (no, we didn’t!):

Just outside the market we found an Italian restaurant where we had the best meal so far! Mine was a seafood spaghetti:

And just outside that restaurant we had a partial view of the castle:

Day 4, Christmas Day: Now for the real scenic stuff! But first:

Bucks fizz in a bus on Christmas Day! (From a plastic goblet!) – That was a new experience! With a card and a cracker, a present from our drivers, a father and son team.

Now it’s difficult to choose from the plethora (good word!) of scenic photos, many with at least some patches of snow:

At our first stop, Kitzbühel, by walking a bit further than I wanted to, Jean was able to take these two:

Then, after a bit more in the bus, we get the train to Zell am See. The first big highlight.

Those above taken from the train.

At the station at Zell am See, without any advice or guidance, we found our way to the lakeside (it was just there – no whiffling needed, just the use of a subway.) The first photo was an accidental selfie – I was just fiddling with it and it ‘went off’!

We sat on a bench and shared a sip of wine, then set about taking more pics. The view was diffent from one end of the lake to the other, according to where the sun was shining:

Back at the hotel, the Christmas dinner, turkey (with all the trimmings? -we didn’t think so!) was disappointing. Remarks regarding the sprouts (made by others, not us) referred to marbles or mini golf balls, and my own thoughts on the carrots were that there was a difference between ‘al dente’ and raw! But we tried to make the best of it:

Day 5, St Stephen’s Day ! Best day of the trip? – Possibly … (Or equal with yesterday!)

By coach to Jenbach –

When we first saw that photo, we though the foreground looked like water! – It’s not …

And from Jenbach, the length of the Zillertalbahn – the Ziller Valley Railway:

And the closer we got to the end station, Mayrhofen, the more sight we had of the river. The water had a lovely grey-green tinge which reminded me of Cumbria! But, from the moving train, it was difficult to get a good pic. This was the best I could do:

In Mayrhofen, there was time for lunch before the next treat, and once again, only Italian restaurants seemed to be open! But we fared well – I had king prawns with chilli tomato sauce, and bread, not pasta.

Mayrhofen is very scenic, and a skiing centre. Cable cars were running and ski runs open, which Jean had never seen before. I suspect the snow was either ‘imported’ or artificial in some way, but no matter to us.

Those views and the selfie were taken while we were waiting for our carriages to arrive! Yes – the final highlight! A horse-drawn carriage ride! Two carriages, one following the other nose-to-tail, well, nose to shoulder of the passengers in the lead carriage at times!

On the way back to Kufstein, we stopped at a souvenir shop in Fügen, the largest town in the Ziller Valley. This should have been a special moment for lovers of ‘Stille Nacht’ (Need I interpret? – Silent Night.) Although the song was first heard with guitar accompaniment some way away in Oberndorf, it was the organ builder(s) from Fügen who heard it there, and brought it back to their town where they shared it with two groups of family singers, who then spread it worldwide! The mention of this association was one of the reasons for my choosing this Christmas trip. But there we were, on Boxing Day, the Feast of Stephen, in that very place, and not a word was said about it, and not a note sung or heard.

I did sing it later, in the bar at the hotel, for Jean and just three other members of our party, with karaoke accompaniment – I had been told in advance not to try to take the guitar with me! I sang ‘Good King Wenceslas’, too … well …

Maybe I should stop there. Narrating days 6 and 7 would come across like a catalogue of disasters, but there’s one photo we’d like to include; at the Van der Valk hotel in Brussels (not the same hotel as on the outward journey), both the service and the food were much better, and I got to enjoy a real pot of mussels! –

Did we enjoy the trip? On balance, yes. Will we do something like it again? – No! Next time, I’ll be driving, and we’ll take our accomodation with us (or it’ll take us!). Watch this space!

Pic of the week? Possibly this one:

BONNE ANNEE!

INTRODUCING …

… Jean:

Jean is in the folk dance group that I joined some time ago. The dancing stops for summer early in May, but we kept in touch through the summer, and have become … quite close. More later.

…  My new smile:

Something had to be done! I was going to lose the two central top teeth – one was loose and the other infected. These are temporary, but fixed. More later.

… Speck:

After only three years with me Smudge became very ill. I had to let him go (help him on his way …). This is a visitor. We don’t know where he belongs, but he’s not a neglected stray. I call him Speck (or Specks or Speckles!) because he has a small white speck in the middle of his grey/black back.

So where were we? Ah, yes, the last entry closed with my return from Cumbria in early July. Soon after that I began serious consultations with 2 dental practices about the teeth. A big problem was how to pay for what needed doing to give me teeth which not only looked better, but with which I could actually eat! I’d already been to London to take part in ‘Beat the Chasers’ and knew that that effort wasn’t going to finance the job! I’m so grateful to the family members who offered a loan to cover the cost – the bank wouldn’t lend to me – absolute ‘NO!’ to an 80 year old! The date was fixed for August 14th, and it was a dreadful, traumatic experience! All remaining teeth (only 6) removed, 4 implants inserted into each jaw and a prosthesis of 10 teeth screwed into them. As I say, these are temporary. Grateful to Rachel for transport that day and for bringing Jean to be there for the homeward journey and to be there when I emerged from the worst part of the treatment! In spite of the sedation and the local anaesthetic it was very painful! No date yet for replacing the temporary set with the permanent ones …

After that, it was strictly ‘no alcohol’ for 4 weeks, so September 12 was celebrated as ‘Back to Booze’ day!

Even Smudge looks interested!:

Meanwhile, on September 7th, the day after I’d done a monologue (The Battle of Hastings) in Honley Players’ cabaret evening, we went down to Stratford (Upon Avon) for the reunion of the ‘Chappies’ – my fellow would-be thespians from 60 years ago who met at the Birmingham School of Speech Training and Dramatic Art. The Principal was Miss Pamela Chapman, which gave the place the affectionate nickname, ‘Chappy’s’. Jean came with me to this 10th reunion – though in 2020 and 2021 we had met on Zoom, not face to face – and she was made very welcome by the others, and when my flatemate for two of our three years, Jeff, (Jeffrey Holland) was asked to sign her copy of his book (‘The First Rule of Comedy’) he nominated her to be ‘an Honorary Chappy’! We had a good early evening meal at The Boathouse restaurant:

Next morning, Monday 8th September, after breakfast at the hotel, the Chappies agreed to meet for coffee (or something) at the theatre. On the way (not a long walk) we paused to take photos in front of the staue of Billy the Bard:

It was a fine, but blustery, morning, so after a brief coffee break (I had orange juice) with the friends, which included that bit of book signing metioned above – and would you believe? I’d left my copy at home! (Yes, of course you would.) – Jean and I left and went for a short cruise on the river. This gave us a chance to photo the Boathouse from the water:

Then the rest of the ride included bridges, and some magnificent trees:

On the way back to the hotel, to get the car for the journey home, we paused by the ‘bassin’ as the French would call it (sort of boat park) for another photo or two:

It had been a good trip – enhance by the Chappies’ very friendly welcome extended to Jean, and some unexpectedly favourable comments about my own appearence! – Not only related to the teeth ….

Now, moving on to October: here’s an extract from the last entry (Theatre and Grasmere): The increasingly persistent Cumbrian ‘drizzle’, and knowing how difficult and expensive parking in Keswick can be, I drove out of town and up the A66 to Threlkeld for an evening meal at the Horse and Farrier. There was another reason for going to Threlkeld – more later ….

Now is ‘later’! I had already written of my admiration of the theatre group ‘Mikron’, so was delighted to learn that they would be performing their other 2025 show in Cumbria this month (October ’25), which would give me a reason for another pilgrimage to my native county! More delighted still when Jean invited me to a four-night stay near Keswick to see the show and visit some favourite spots of mine; the venue for the performance was to be Threlkeld Village Hall, so that trip up the A66 on that drizzly evening was to spy out the location and the possibility of eating nearby.

The start of that stay was on Wednesday 15th October, and after a steady drive up the M6 to Penrith and down the A66 to Keswick we foud our B & B at Thornthwaite, then went for a lovely evening drive – lovely in spite of the total cloud cover which persisted thoughout the stay. We took in the west side of Derwentwater, Borrowdale, Honnister, Buttermere, Crummock Water, and Winlatter, then found a satisfactory meal at one of the pubs off the square in Keswick. How’s that for a starter drive for a visitor who didn’t know any of those places?

Thursday began with a classic tour: Along the east side of Derwentwater to Ashness Gate, and so up to Ahsness Bridge:

And on to Surprise view:

Don’t look so fretful! The nice man is a photographer!

And so on to Watendlath – and back! I thought the King’s Head at Thirlspot might be a good spot for lunch on the way to Grasmere, based on previous experience, but we were disappointed. I had some mushroom soup and Jean sampled a plate of falafels – not exactly a Cumbrian speciality and the accompanying sauce was a bit too spicy!

We drove on past Thirlmere to Grasmere, paused in the village where I left my postcard collection (mainly from the 50s and 60s) at the Gallerie in case they want to buy them – they have a large selection – then on to the lake and got lucky with the parking. So Jean was introduced to that well-known (to my family and readers of this journal) activity “whiffling through the Tulgey Wood”! She agreed it IS (very) tulgey! At the lakeside the water was low, and the reflections nearly perfect:

This was the day of the Mikron play in Threlkeld. Because of the timing, we had decided not to have the day’s main meal in the evening, but then we would have fared better at The Horse and Farrier than we did at Thirlspot!

But anyway, we made our way back to the B & B and changed for the evening – even in a village hall event, performers deserve a bit of respect! Well! what performers! This team are so skillful! – constantly changing character, and picking up a variety of musical instruments to play – and to use to symbolise props at times – e.g. a violin, with its bow, became a rifle at one point. The play was ‘Hush Hush’ – telling the story of Bletchley Park, and of the possible friends and relatives of those working there, who were taking part in the fighting. I was able to chat with a member of the cast during the interval, and asked if they would be back at base at the end of November, and might be interested in the Ghost Train event. He seemed interested and suggested I email the company, but it’s come to nothing.

Friday 19th October: Up the A66 as far as Rheged then down to Ullswater past Dalemain. We turned left at the bottom so as to go and look at Pooley Bridge, crossing the Eamont by the new bridge, light controlled and not much to admire compared with the old one – but it should stand up to the floods for a decade or two, if not a century! We drove through Pooley Bridge, but weren’t tempted to stop, so turned round and crossed the bridge again, then drove the length of Ullswater. We didn’t ‘do’ Aira Force from the main car park – I thought it wouldn’t have enough water to justify the time and the walk – we just drove on to Glencoyne. At the best autumnal bit there wasn’t space to park, but a little further on we did find a space, pulled in, and made our way down to the water’s edge:

While we were there we watched one of the steamers go by, passing the foot of Place Fell:

Back on board (the car, not the steamer!) we went on through Glenridding and Patterdale, past Brothers’ Water and over Kirkstone pass, down the Struggle to Ambleside. Remembering my visit to The Swan in Grasmere we thought we’d go there for lunch, and had a much better meal than yesterday’s! By contrast that sometime favourite, Skelwith Bridge, was a big disappointment! Not tempted, as in days gone by, to indulge in ‘Kaffee und Kuchen’, nor to make any purchases in the much-changed shop, we went on to Elterwater, then I treated Jean to that ‘exciting’ drive over Red Bank …

That took us to Grasmere, of course, where we visited Heaton Cooper’s studio, but we were unlucky in that the connected cafe was closing just as we thought we would go through and have a bit of something. But never mind! – we headed north over Dunmail Raise, past Thirlmere, then deviated to go through the Vale of St. John’s. Not only that, but we went looking for Castlerigg Stone Circle as well:

Saturday 18th October: Up the A66 again but only as far as Troutbeck, then down to Ullswater via Dacre. This route takes you past the point of access to High Force, and the ‘middle’ car park to get to Aira Force. This car park is called ‘Park Brow’ and is now run by the National Trust who require you to pay – unless you’re a member. I don’t know whether it had that name when I used to frequent it, and I am still a member of NT so the charges don’t bother me! Well, in that we were passing and this is closer to the waterfall than the main car park at the bottom, I pulled in and suggested we went to look at the waterfall. Yes, there was comparatively little water in it – but Jean’s photo seems to make it look more impressive than I thought it was! –

Over Kirkstone to Windermere this time; a quick visit to Lakeland (the shop) and down to Bowness – it was heaving! Very difficult parking, and not NT, but we got lucky when someone coming out of their space gave us their ticket with lots of time still on it. Later we passed it on to the next people – it still had as much time as they wanted! We had fish n chips at a sort of sit-in shack (not quite what I thought we might find there!) then went on a cruise round Belle Isle.

There followed the rest of today’s ’10 Lakes Tour’ (a sort of SKT special)! We crossed Windermere by the ferry, then via Far Sawrey and Near Sawrey, nodding at Hill Top (Beatrix Potter’s farm) as we went by, to drive alongside Esthwaite water and by-pass Hawkshead. I wanted to included Tarn Hows, but I must have missed a turning. However, going a long way round, we got there. Out of the car and admiring the view from the high ground between the road and the water, we ‘rested on a rock, conveniently low’ …

And, believe it or not, there was, by request, a full recitation of ‘The Walrus and The Carpenter’ to explain the origin of that frequently repeated quote, and its companion ‘that would be …. (a d t t d)’. This was very well received, maybe even by Jean’s little companion, Bracken:

Back in the real world, it was down the one-way, steep, narrow road towards Coniston. We skirted the northern end of the lake, of course, and went down to the boating centre, saluting old haunts (of mine) en passant, but we didn’t stop there. Then up and over the hill to Yew Tree Tarn …

… and on to Ambleside. The lakes count was completed by passing Rydal Water, Grasmere and Thirlmere, and there was one more to come: we got to Keswick, went down to the lake, paid for an hour’s parking and walked the length of Friar’s Crag in the last of the daylight:

The jetties were all renewed last year after a storm left one of them ‘totally smashed’. At the far end of the crag, there’s still a view south up the lake to the Jaws of Borrowdale, with a bench to rest on, but it’s changed a lot. I think they’ve let the trees grow too tall – it’s not as open as it used to be.

Only the journey home to relate now, (Sunday,19th) and as forecast the weather finally broke as we progressed. Still, I was as determined as ever to get to Westmorland services, and got it right this time, although the most direct route would have been to go up the A66 to Penrith and south on M6. But no, I wanted another drive through the Lake District, but turned off the A591 before Kendal to go to the A6 via Burneside, joining the M6 at Shap. The diversion was worth it! The farm shop had two items I was looking for – one is in the freezer and one has been slow cooked and consumed!

Then we heard – saw signs, that is – of a 60 minute delay on M62! So we turned off and headed for Oldham, thinking to follow the A62 into Huddersfield, but SatNav had other ideas, set for Jean’s house, not mine, and took us via Holmfirth! Don’t know whether that was best, but it was nice!

That’s all there is to say, really … So it’s –

GOODBYE! (For now …)

Well, April was exciting, wasn’t it?

Then the trip to the Isle of Man which crossed over into May.

The rest of May involved little of interest, except a visit with Rachel to see Halifax Players do ‘The Ghost Train’. We weren’t impressed. They were using Nicholas Ridley’s ‘update’ of his father’s script – all the 1920’s etiquette, terms of endearment etc. were missing. If I do it next year, it will be better! (There seems to be no hope of doing it this year, but a possibility of working with Honley Players early next year; negotiations are ongoing.)

There was a bit of excitement in June, involving a one-night stopover in London. I’m not free to tell you all about it yet. Keep ’em guessing, eh, SKT?

Well, those are my initials, of course, and they used to appear on the number plate of my driving school cars – A6 SKT. We tansferred the plate to the little red car, known as Sally, who followed Harry (the motorhome) around for several years, but we let it go when we sold the little car. Rachel and family decided to mark that ‘milestone’ birthday back in April by arranging a new ‘SKT’ plate for me:

So we come to July. Last year, a plan to see the Mikron theatre company, who travel around on a narrow boat based in Marsden, fell through, but the family from ‘down south’ visited anyway. However, this year the family were busy elsewhere, but Chris and I went to see Mikron perform ‘Operation Beach Hut’ in the courtyard of the Lawrence Batley Theatre. Wow! What a talented foursome! All playing several parts and playing several instruments as well! The theme was a bit of a curious coincidence, since we had been to Honley a fortnight earlier to see ‘Sandcastles’, which also features beach huts!

Well, it’s ten years since Carol died, and July 9th was the day in 2015 when, helped by Philip, Judi, Rachel – and nearly 2-year-old Shannon – I spread her ashes on the water of Grasmere: (warning! one picture in this little gallery is not for the squeamish!)

So Grasmere was calling, of course! So were other places, including Keswick where the Theatre by the Lake were doing ‘Noises Off’. The Theatre by the Lake was the venue of my last G & S performance before the move to France. It was The Gondoliers with Keswick Amateur Operatic Society (KAOS!?) There’s a clip from it on You Tube – the famous ‘Gavotte’ sequence – search Keswick Gondoliers if you’re interested. That was in 2010.

Sunday July 6th 2025: A rather slow pack up, but not really a problem. Not until a disturbing incident on the motorway; a nasty crunching noise from under the car, bits of black … something … bouncing along the carriageway behind the car. Pulled onto the hard shoulder and called 999. Advised to drive on to the next services (c.10 miles) and have a good look round the car. Saw no damage, nor noticed anything missing. Drove on – maybe more later.

Heading for Keswick, I stayed on the M6 to J40 at Penrith, rather than drive through the Lake District, in view of the late departure. I’d booked 2 nights’ B & B at a hotel quite close to the theatre – this turned out to be a good choice since I’ve never before been able to walk to the theatre from where I’ve been staying. Very pleasant reception, and willingness to put a couple of little ice packs from my coolbag into the freezer – without charge.

My room was at the back of the building, on the second floor:

Of the two dormer windows, mine was the one on the right, and it had an excellent view of Skiddaw (England’s fourth highest mountain): (T80 SKT is on the carpark hiding behind that little yellow ‘Smartie’!)-

And this is me looking at it! –

But later that afternoon – the day of arrival –

The mountain had disappeared! However, before the cloud closed in, I’d caught this view from the front of the hotel:

Bin up there, bin up there, bin up there …. How may can you recognise and name?

The increasingly persistent Cumbrian ‘drizzle’, and knowing how difficult and expensive parking in Keswick can be, I drove out of town and up the A66 to Threlkeld for an evening meal at the Horse and Farrier. There was another reason for going to Threlkeld – more later ….

Monday 7th July: This was a great day! I drove round Derwentwater, via Grange and Portinscale, then south on the A 591 past Thirlmere and over Dunmail Raise to Grasmere. After a bit of shopping at the Co-op, the pharmacy, and the nearby gallerie, I thought I might try Grasmere Gather which, sadly, has replaced the garden centre, but it looked from the outside as if the café / restaurant wasn’t open, and I didn’t want to pay for what used to be a free carpark, so I cruised around a bit and ended up having lunch at the Swan. How many times have I driven, ridden in a bus, or walked past this place in the last 65 or so years but never gone in before?!

And this is Helm Crag (‘The Lion and the Lamb’) from outside the Swan:

It was very pleasant, with a warm welcome, and I enjoyed a nice piece of salmon. Then, of course, the lake beckoned. The first layby was full, but then – surprise, surprise – the one by Penny Rock Wood was empty!

It was definitely time to go ‘whiffling through the tulgey wood’, walking stick, not Vorpal Sword, in hand, and a folding chair over the shoulder! Mind you, not changing sandals for boots was a bit of a risk:

I might have got me feet wet!

At the lakeside, at that special ‘beach’, there was a brisk and chilly breeze, but I enjoyed 15 – 20 minutes nostalgia on the chair I had carried down. No passers by appeared who might have obliged by taking a pic or two for me, so I made do with selfies – though I’d left the selfie stick in the car!

Then, reminiscent of ten years ago, I had visitors:

But there was no little girl to feed them and get her feet wet!.

Moving on, I made for that old haunt, the garden centre in Ambleside, now under new management, where I made a few purchases and benefitted from some good ‘old fashioned’ service in the matter of help with carrying stuff to the car, also providing a convenient little crate, lined with polythene, so that the plants I’d bought might survive in the boot for a couple of days. They did, but at the time of writing they haven’t been planted out yet!

And this was the evening of ‘Noises Off’, performed with tremendous energy and skill. I always enjoy my visits to the Theatre By The Lake, with the possible exception of an occasion when they had converted to theatre in the round, which I don’t like. I belong to that old school which says ‘don’t turn your back to the audience without good reason’. In the round, actors have their back to half the audience all the time – I feel cheated as an audience member and thwarted as a performer!

Tuesday 8th July: Not quite such a good day, unfortunately. I was thwarted (that word again!) in my plan to drive down to Ullswater via Matterdale, by a poorly signed road closure. Turning off the A66 at Troutbeck, I would have expected to see ‘Road Closed Ahead’ signs and a suggested diversion, but no, by the time there was any signage, the only option was a turn in the road and double back! I ended up at Rheged (convenient!) and down to the lake via Dacre, which was probably a mistake – why not the main road past Dalemain? Sorry! Local references probably not very meaningful to those not familiar with the area, so maybe this helps:

There is no diversion possible off the Troutbeck – Matterdale road, but it can’t be closed at the junction with the A66 because access is needed to the caravan park (I’ve stayed there) and activity centre – but the ‘closed’ sign should, I think have been at that point, where turning would have been easier than the 5-point turn (or was it 7?) further along. I wasn’t the only one caught out by it!

But anyway, I drove alongside Ullswater (too green! – not enough lake visible!) and on up and over Kirkstone Pass – well done, little car! – down to Windermere and called at Lakeland (formerly Lakeland Plastics). Made only one purchase, then blundered again in my attempt to wriggle around to join the M6 north of Westmorland services! I ended up in Kendal! OK – let’s avoid any anxiety about fuel by filling up at Morrison’s (just like old times!) – BUT! Big surprise, petrol about 5p more expernsive than here! So I didn’t fill up, just put £10 worth in which, yes, meant no fret about getting home.

So then what? Over on the Appleby road to Tebay and went NORTH on M6, called at Westmorland Services (best services anywhere!), couldn’t find a rabbit at the farm shop, but bought two lamb forelegs (only place I’ve ever seen them) which provided tasty meals (slow cooked with red wine and rosemary) for a succession of visitors in the subsequent days. It’s a short hop up to Shap to change sides of the motorway and head for home. No problems en route, though there was an horrendous tailback for some reason on the westbound side of the M62 in the Saddleworth area. Glad I wasn’t going that way!

Well, that seems the appropriate place to close this post. After all, it is the end of this episode of ‘theatre and Grasmere’. But there’s a lot more to share with family and friends, not all of it happy … maybe I’ll save that for the email that alerts the reader to the availablity of the post. So I’ll close with a quirky little footnote:

Preparing to get en route each morning might include running off a small quantity of vin rosé into a miniature bottle to put in the cool bag with the ice packs, but hey! – don’t leave the box there! (Quoting Pooh-Bah: “I have known it done!”)

Santé!

Yes! Two years ago I booked a trip similar to this one, but had to cancel as I was crippled with sciatica (the insurance paid out). Last year the company cancelled due to storms (one of the named storms) in Morecambe Bay. They refunded the money I’d paid.

So I was please to set off confidently to drive to Heysham on Sunday morning April 27th, with the expectation of good weather to come, and looking forward to a break from doing my own catering, shopping, etc. I’d booked a ‘Just Park’ space not far from the ferry terminal, found it easily and it was a £5 taxi ride to the port. The group I was joining was travelling from various pick-up points from Cambridge northwards, and I when I arrived at the terminal, there was no sign of the ‘Just Go!’ coach, nor anyone else waiting for it. In fact I was the only one joining at that point.

After about half an hour someone came into the building calling my name. This turned out to be Paul, our driver. He didn’t seem pleased to have found me and made no attempt to help with my luggage. A gentleman waiting to return home on the ferry jumped in and insisted on taking my case (and guitar) to the bus. Someone, also from the island, had helped me take the the things into the terminal when I first arrived. This set the tone for the Manx friendliness which I would experience again during the next four days.

There followed a long wait on the coach till we had to move – not straight onto the ship, but some distance out of the car and coach park round the lorry and freight area to joing the queue to drive onto the ship. Obviously, having to go to the ‘wrong’ area to pick up one passenger had been a bit – or a lot – of an inconvenience.

However, once on board, the crossing was smooth, though longer than we might have expected – three and a half hours! – and I had a nice lunch of Manx beef pie. Not sure what was ‘Manx’ about it, but it was tasty. There was another long wait to get off the ferry, then a short drive along Douglas’s Promenade to our hotel, the Best Western Palace.

The hotel is below and slightly to the left of the prominent white building with the tower or turret, among the trees. It’s the less tall building, only four floors, darker in colour than the nearby white or cream coloured ones.

Now, last summer, on arrival at the guest house in Devon, I posted a photo taken through the window of my room, suggesting it was a ‘room with a view’. On Sunday last week, I found I had a room with a view of a double grot-spot! (In spite of the hotel’s sea front location!)

OK, luck of the draw, and the view from the hotel restaurant did look out over the sea, though the tide was always out at dinner and breakfast time. Breakfast was excellent, and the food at dinner was good, too, but as far as I can tell, there were no local specialities on offer; and that applied to what I was able to find at lunch times, as well.

Monday, April 28th: We boarded our bus for a day out visiting Ramsay and Peel. Now, on similar tours that I’ve been on (Scotland and Wales) there’s been a tour guide on board as well as the driver. Not this time, and apparently that’s normal with Just Go! I think I didn’t study the info at the time of booking, just made an assumption. Paul, our driver, had to tell us all the information we were going to get, and he only had such details as he’d been ‘fed’, I think. I didn’t find much of interest in Ramsay. Just the harbour where I looked at one or two of the boats and said, as usual, “I think I’ll get one of those …” :

Well –

– Everyone needs one of those!

We moved on to Peel, where, unfortunately, some of the group didn’t hear Paul’s instructions clearly – or they didn’t listen carefully enough. The pick-up point was not the same as the drop-off, but some folk (not me) missed that and and we had to double back round the town to look for them! Pick-up was actually at the far end of the long stretch of sea front from where we were dropped off, which meant more walking than I really wanted to do and, again unfortunately, the pub which seemed to have the best selection of (local) sea food was right at the starting point, but I thought it better to do the walk first so that I would know how much time I had. I ended up with a tasty, but ‘ordinary’, scampi and chips, which I have often enough ‘at home’ and was not the local speciality I was hoping for!

Peel is known for its castle and its sandy beach. The walk was pleasant enough and the heat not too oppressive:

I mentioned the guitar at the top. Without the help of a tour guide it was difficult to organise, but having brought the instrument, I wanted to invite anyone in the group, who wanted to join in, to a singalong after dinner. Paul wasn’t very interested, but he did announce it on the bus before we got off. I’d spoken to the duty manager of the hotel in the morning, and he said it would be fine and there was a room just off the dining room which we could use.

After the excursion, I went to reception again to ask for more details and to be shown the room. A different duty manager was extremely helpful, and said to seek him out when I was ready to start. The man sitting across the aisle from me on the bus, Terry by name, was also very supportive. Just before 9pm we found Jack, the manager, and he took us to the room and Terry set out some of the stacked chairs for me. I asked about a stool that I might sit on – one of the waitresses, lovely Louise, went and ‘pinched’ one from the bar some way away. Not only that, but after about half an hour she brought me a glass of wine, and at the end, she said I didn’t need to pay for it! Other things were a bit awkward; having no precise details about how to find the room when the announcement was made on the bus, some people wanted to come, but said they couldn’t find it, and the staff they approached knew nothing about it! About a dozen did turn up, enjoyed themselves, and joined in enthusiastically. I did about 50 minutes.

Tuesday, 29th April: My Mummy’s birthday! We had to be on the coach a bit earlier this morning for the short drive to the far end of the prom to get on the island’s electric railway, seen here at Laxey, where we got off.

The ride from Douglas to Laxey afforded some pleasant views, but a more rattly, grindy, screechy experience it would be difficult to create! I chose to ride in the enclosed carriage, the locomotive in fact, so here are a few views, taken through the glass of the window:

There was confusion again about rejoining the bus – we hadn’t understood exactly which path we were supposed to follow. Some of us took the road instead, but we all found the right spot. Another short ride took us up closer to the Laxey wheel, perhaps the island’s most iconic landmark. There was still some serious uphill walking to do, and it was getting hotter.

I took the ‘selfie of the week’ :

Then made my way round to the other side. But I did not, as a few of us did, climb any of the stairs up to the higher levels.

What is it, anyway? – Look it up if you really want to know!

Back to the bus, which meant choosing between the road and the path beside the stream. Against advice from Paul, I chose the latter. Yes, ‘avoid’ may have been good advice in different, wetter, muddier conditions, but it was very pleasant. A short ride back to Laxey Station, and then came the question ‘what, and where, to eat?’ The station café didn’t appeal to me (unlicensed!) so I wandered about a bit and found a Co-op shop where I bought a paper, a miniature bottle of vin blank and a prawn sandwich. Then I found a bench in part shade to consume them (not the paper!). Nice enough, but nothing special, nor specially local!

My bench seat gave me a view of the coming and going of the ‘traffic’ at the station, which serves as the interchange between the electric railway and the Snaefell Mountain Railway:

(The unoccupied bench in the photo is not the one I was sitting on!)

The Mountain Railway was our next adventure, and should, I suppose, have been the highlight of the week. For scenery it probably was, but the vehicle was full and very uncomfortable with its hard, wooden benches. At the top, the views were pleasant, but, to a Lake District fan, unspectacular, and with the heat haze, the glimpses of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland were not to be seen, not as far as I made out, anyway. And as for the café … I’ll say no more.

Probably a good idea to include a few of the scenic pics, including the entrance to the former Snaefell tin mine, and the Laxey Wheel as seen from the railway:

(Gorse in bloom was dominant all over the island.)

The return to Douglas was by means of the electric train, and I chose the open carriage this time. That may have been a good choice for the fresh air, but it meant another cramped and uncomfortable experience on a wooden bench. This seems to have had ongoing consequences …

Encouraged by Terry, and one or two others who had been at the singalong the previous evening, it was decided to go again. Paul didn’t want to give me the mic to explain the whereabouts of the room and what I planned to do, but since I was seated immediately behind him, he relayed my info to the group on the bus. I said that if the same people came again I would do a different set, or if different folk turned up I would do some or all of the same. In the event it was a mix of returners and newcomers. On hearing of the double-speed Major-General challenge from the Sing-a-Ton, they urged me to do it again, and they also encouraged me (sort of) to do ‘Gee! Officer Krupke’! And lovely Louise brought me another free glass of wine …

Wednesday 30th April: An optional excursion was on the itinerary for the final day before heading for home. I had decided in advance not to join it. There’s an old steam train that runs from Douglas to Port St. Mary via Port Erin and I was hoping to ride on it. BUT – careful study of small print revealed that there was no service on April 30th!

So I went out and got on a ‘Bus Vannin’, buying a one-day ‘Go Explore’ ticket for £21 which was £5 more than the excursion with Paul would have cost, but it gave me more flexibility. A pleasant (and comfortable) ride took me to Port St. Mary, via Port Erin:

Those are both of Port Erin, taken through the window of the moving bus. I didn’t even notice the hexagonal monument as we drove by, so I don’t know what it is! I think we stayed in Port Erin on my only previous visit to the I o M. I was four years old, and we flew out in a biplane from Carlisle airport!

At Port St. Mary I got off at the harbour …

… and walked a considerable distance in increasing heat along the sea wall. It was beautifully unspoilt, but that meant not only no litter, but no shops, no cafés, no pub or restaurant. It was during this walk that I noticed the Isle of Man pleasantness on the part of the people which I mentioned earlier; everyone coming towards me smiled and greeted me.

However, it became apparent that any chance of finding refreshment meant climbing up one of the narrow alleys with steep steps to get to the main road running parallel to the sea front. There wasn’t a lot of choice, but the restaurant I found was excellent. A very friendly reception, telling me the garden room was full, but I could sit in the garden or where I was in the bar area. I said I thought I’d had enough sunshine for now and sat down. If there was a ‘best meal of the trip’, this was it! (There was a disappointing lack of local specialities on the menu at the hotel.) I chose from the ‘light bites’ menu and ordered Crab and Mackerel Croquettes. They were delicious – but ‘light bites’ indeed. Three golf-ball sized croquettes. But size didn’t matter – the supporting highlight was that, whereas at the hotel and other places I’d been in, there was no rosé wine to my taste, here on the drinks menu was Cinsault Grenache – the most common ‘house’ rosé around our home in France, and the one we began keeping for home consumption! I ordered a large glass, and explained my excitement over finding it to two members of staff who seemed genuinely interested. The croquettes were prepared to order, so that first glass of rosé was gone before they arrived! I ordered a second!

Back outside in the sunshine, and looking for a bus stop, guess what? – At a crossroads some way away, Paul’s bus went by with most of my companions on board! And my attention was drawn by the sound of some very noisy rooks:

They were evidently feeding their chicks.

The bus came on time, and returned by the same route. In Castletown we passed a coach parking spot, with Paul and a few of his passengers stood outside the Just Go bus! They didn’t spot me, but some of my fellow travellers on the Bus Vannin were intrigued by my gesture towards the coach. It wasn’t rude, more of a fist pump. I explained about my having rejected the excursion in favour of planning my own day and one lady said “I bet you’re having more fun!”.

Also in Castletown we passed this:

The last time I saw anything like that was at the entrance to the French motorway service area called ‘Aire du Héron Cendré’.

I was enjoying my day, but another disapoinment followed. After getting off the bus at the Douglas Ferry Terminal where I did a bit of shopping, I hoped to be able to ride on the horse drawn tram – the same ticket would have covered it – but walking to where it stopped / started was too far and I needed a rest, so I took another bus to the hotel. Rested and refreshed (coffee!) and still with time to spare before dinner, I went back out expecting to get yet another bus to go to the end of the promenade, get the tram there, do the full distance and return. But either I misread the timetable or the bus didn’t turn up. The tram did, and stopped just there! But I didn’t know that it would stop at the hotel and the road was too busy for me to cross and get on. Of course, I could have waited for it to come back and still have ridden on it, but I’d had enough standing, and anyway, I’d taken the photograph! –

So I went back in and watched some TV before dinner. Once I was in the dining room the Lovely Louise brought me a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Partway through the meal, she brought me another! No bill was presented … However, with the rosé at lunch time, that made a litre for the day and whether that had anything to do with my present difficulties* … who knows?

Thursday May 1st: We were under strict instructions to have our luggage at the bus by 6.30 am! Then to have breakfast and be on the bus, ready to roll at 7.30. There followed the short drive to the ferry terminal and straight on with no waiting. Once parked, and by agreement with Paul the previous evening, he offloaded my luggage so that although I had boarded as a coach passenger, I was able to disembark as a foot passenger. This made it easier for everyone, and fortunately posed no problems.

The crossing (three and a half hours) was smooth and easy and I chatted with Terry for the final time. A taxi was standing by at Heysham and was available to take me to ‘Papa Romeo’ (my car). The return home was hot but easy, apart from a delay near Saddleworth where a wildfire was raging on the moor. En route I ‘treated’ myself to that great ‘British’ (?) speciality, a Chicken Royale from Burger King at Rivington Services on M62. I arrived at 141 Hall Cross Road at 3 pm to be greeted by clematis in full bloom and Smudge delighted to see me!

How do I feel about this trip? I’m glad to have done it. Would I do it again? – No. Would I recommend Just Go! or use them again? Probably not.

*Footnote to clarify this enigmatic reference: I think the walking and the uncomfortable travelling on the railways combined to to leave me very troubled with painful, swollen feet and ankles. Nothing new but severe enough to get to see a doctor first thing Friday morning (2nd May). Blood pressure was very high, even for me, and he referred me for (yet another) blood test and a chest x-ray. These appointments are booked, but haven’t happened yet.

Then on Saturday it got worse! My left big toe became red, swollen and painful and previous experience told me – a flare-up of gout! Last occurrence was a year ago, and was greatly helped by a prescription for colchicine. I thought I had some left, but I couldn’t find it. I called 111. A helpful person said they would refer me to the out of hours GP service who would call me within a few hours. They didn’t; it got too late.

I managed to get lunch for Chris, Michelle and Sean yesterday (Sunday) – Hope was elsewhere, but the swelling and pain got worse through the evening and overnight. This morning (Monday 5th, Bank Holiday) I tried to contact surgery again. No chance – closed, bank holiday, so I rang 111 again. Brilliant service this time from them and from Lockwood Pharmacy, which is open. Lucky that Papa Romeo is automatic! – I wouldn’t have been able to manage a clutch pedal! I now have the medicine and expect a quick recovery. Was it caused by that litre of wine in one day? Maybe – but that was on Wednesday; the gout flare-up started on Saturday.

Thanks for reading.

So what has happened since that New Year’s trip to Grasmere? – Not a lot, just a frustrating and unsuccessful effort to find an Amdram company – or create one – to put on ‘The Ghost Train’ (by Arnold Ridley) later in the year. For years it’s been my intention to produce it – and be in it – this year, because this is the centenary of the first production in the West End. Why does this matter to me? Because I was in it in my last year at school, used excerpts from it for one or two of my acting exams, and have produced (directed) it many times over the years. The last time was a 75th annivesary performance in 2005.

However, not having joined any group, other than G & S, since I came here, nobody knows me, and I don’t know the right people. One group, the Honley players, who have their own theatre, did seem interested, but they have their plans for the year already mapped out. I’ve been surprised and disappointed by how many people have failed to return phone calls or reply to emails … I thought better of Yorkshire folk!

So we come to this month, April. It will be no surprise to most readers of this journal that I turned eighty years old on the 8th. Some time was spent discussing with Rachel and Chris what sort of event to hold, untill I suggested we should visit The Foxglove Inn at Kirkburton to see what we thought of it. The group I do folk dancing with on Tuesday evenings had been there for our pre-Christmas lunch together last year, and they put us in a nice private room which I though might be suitable. So we had a 3-some lunch there on Saturday 18th January, and thought … ‘yes, this could be right’, then when we approached the staff about it, they were extremely helpful, showed us the room, gave us the menus of the two types of buffet that they do and we made a provisional booking for April 5th.

April 5th, 2025: At about 12.15, as pre-arranged, my family from Linthwaite arrived at my door:

So, of course, I presented myself, new suit and all:

Rachel had arrived earlier, calling first at the Foxglove to make some preparations, then coming here to park her car up (in front of mine, on the drive!), before Sean came with Shannon and Ava and took her back to the pub.

So Michelle and family (above) took me down to discover what Rachel had done to the room:

Guests were beginning to arrive. In fact, Cousin Chris Jaques, his friend Anne and his brother Mark were already there, so were my sister-in-Law, Christine, and my neices, Carol and Judi. First drinks were ordered ‘on the house’ (= my house, not the pub’s!) and folk began chatting. Our hope was that people would meet and introduce themselves to people they didn’t know, and and find a way to circulate in spite of the rather formal layout of the room! We suggested that whenever someone got up to get food or another drink, or whatever, they should, on returning, sit somewhere else!

Those pics were taken before the buffet was served, which was the cue for a bit of (non-)musical chairs! The food was excellent (wot? no photos?!) and I’m pleased to say that many guests have said how much they enjoyed it. Then there was cake, made by my daughter-in-law, Michelle:

The little one with the 8 – 0 candles on was placed in front of me ….

… and I blew out BOTH candles, in ONE breath! Let’s look around:

They seem like a happy crowd!

Then the singing started! Not just ‘Happy Birthday!’ – but thanks! But some old favourites with audience participation and guitar accompaniment; and somehow, the conversation led to a recitation of ‘Jabberwocky’!

“Come into my arms, my beamish boy!”

Later, the ‘party’ (= the people and the event) moved to 141, Hall Cross Road. I’d prepared an over-long set of photos under the title ‘Special People, Places, and Memories’. I’ve been wondering whether I could put 3 pics here – a place, some people, and a particular memory. But choosing is too difficult. Maybe I’ll reduce the set a bit and put it on One Drive and send you the link … Then you can choose whether to look at it or not.

People were kind enough to look at the display for as long as seemed reasonable, but there were other items on the agenda. I’d invited the accompanist from Meltham G & S Society to come and play for me, and I’d had the piano tuned; that same piano that has been part of my life for 80 years! (Even though I was separated from it for quite a lot of them, and I don’t play it.) But to have a professional accompanist come and play a selection of G & S patter songs for me to sing was a big thrill – for me, if for no-one else. I’d changed out of that suit for reasons which will become apparent, so my appearence is not quite so smart for the singing:

By the time the G & S mini-concert was over, a fire had been lit in the basket on the patio. (That’s why I didn’t want still to be wearing the suit.) On the back wall of the garage was a new addition:

I don’t know whether anyone actually used it, or took a photo of it after dark when it might have looked better, but chilled drinks, e.g. Vouvray or Crémant de Limoux (special memories!) were brought out from inside. I had suggested we might send for takeaways at this point, but I’d also bought some food in, which Rachel and Chris heated, as needed, and served.

Before they left, Chris ‘interviewed’ each family on video, which produced some interesting comments, especially when asked for advice about how I should spend the next eighty years!

I think I can say that a good time had been had by all! Rachel and the little Granddaughter, Ava, stayed overnight, and I’m pleased to report that thanks to Rachel and Chris having monitored my alcohol comsumption during the day and the evening – at my request – there were no unfortunate repercussions next day. If fact, I was up and at it in time to prepare bacon and egg for breakfast before Rachel and Ava left! My thanks to everyone who came, helped, or contributed; of course, everyone contributed just by being there!

But it wasn’t over! There are no photos, but there are two events left to narrate:

Tuesday April 8th: Tuesday is my regular folk dance evening. Rachel said she’d like to come with me and meet my ‘dancing friends’. She was made very welcome. Next week someone told me she danced better than most of us!

Friday April 11th: We (Rachel and I) went to Leeds Grand Theatre to see ‘Les Misérables’. It’s a favourite show of hers and this was the first (legal) production by amateurs. Three local groups had combined to put it on and it really was a magnifient staging. I hadn’t seen it all through before, and I’m glad I have – now I am thoroughly miserabled …

My message to some (if not all) of our politicians: “do you hear the people sing? …”

I’d booked one night at the Premier Inn in Kendal for New Year’s Eve. Leaving home at about 12.30 on Dec 24th* I paused for lunch at Birch services on the M62. The rain had started, but it got worse! I’ve never seen warning signs of FLOODS on a motorway before! That was a bit OTT – standing water, yes, but not real floods. Still, care was needed.

(*This post is about New Year! So this date is evidently wrong … I’m leaving it as it is so that my niece’s comment below makes sense!)

Once in Kendal, although I used to take pupils there regularly to practise and take their driving test, I just couldn’t recognise the place! Of course, it was dark and wet, which didn’t help, but Satnav got me through, although it wouldn’t talk to me (low battery?). So many streets which used to be one-way seemed to have been reversed or to have become two-way! Reception at the hotel was fine, and my room comfortable and spacious.

I’d included a ‘meal deal’ in the booking and the dinner was satisfactory, but nothing special or festive. Then any thoughts I might have had of going out to look for any signs of celebrations were washed out by the awful weather!

Breakfast was good, and after a bit o’ bovver sorting out how to pay for the car park before leaving, I got on the road around 9.30, and headed for Grasmere. There were some areas of standing water on the road, which one had to drive round or go through very cautiously, but sections beside Windermere which flood sometimes were OK. Ambleside is usually a crawling bottleneck any time of any day, but I’ve never seen so little traffic there, and there was no need to slow down to much below the speed limit!

By Rydal Water things were a bit different; the outflow, the River Rothay, was full to overflowing and filling the surrounding areas with white water! But as yet, none on the road. Beyond Rydal, the scene was really grim! The popular car park between Rydal and Grasmere was largely under water, and that included a number of picnic tables!

I was hoping to be near Grasmere at the time when the forecast had suggested there would be a break in the cloud and the rain, and maybe some moments of sunshine. I drove past the lake and into the village. I might have stopped, but the pharmacy was closed and parking near the Co-op where I might have bought a paper was occupied and I didn’t want to get wet by walking any distance. Still trusting the forecast, I headed back to the lake. As I approached the first of the two lay-bys (most people likely to read this know them both), I saw it was empty. Just as I signalled to pull in, a car coming the other way did the same! Happily, we exchanged smiles and negotiated round each other! (“That’s the way to do it!”)

Now, the rain was falling, drizzly, but steady. This was the scene across the road:

At least, in winter, you get a glimpse of the lake! But, a few moments later, over my shoulder to the north, there was a break in the cloud, and:

– a patch of sunlight on Silver Howe! Moments later again:

A partial rainbow touched the tip of the island*! It looked promising; the rain seemed to have eased off so I made plans to get down to the lakeside. (I think all likely readers know why that was important.) I got boots from the boot (?!) and began to try to put them on – BUT! There was a strong wind and the sunshine and blue sky was blown away; more, and heavier, rain was falling … what to do? It was still too early for lunch, so I moved out of that lay-by, not quite sure what I was planning. However, round the bend and alongside Penny Rock Wood (affectionately known to some members of this family who are fans of ‘Jabberwocky’ as ‘the Tulgey Wood’), and seeing there was only one vehicle in the lay-by, I pulled in.

I waited. What I could see of the sky varied between grey and bits of blue/white. I looked at the weather forecast. The last chance for an hour of little or no rain was approaching. I booted up. Coat, hat, scarf, and yes, I crossed the road and went ‘whiffling through the Tulgey Wood’, stick, not Vorpal Sword, in hand. (And if that’s all nonsense to you look up Jabberwocky!)

The lake was full! There was no ‘beach’ where picnics and barbecues have been partaken, swimming enjoyed and the boat pushed out. The rocks which are a feature of this particular spot were under water and the strong north wind was driving wavelets towards the lake’s outflow. Across the lake, there was a stream where usually there isn’t one! – enlarge the photo and you can see it.

Turning to the north-west from the same spot, the lake and sky were a different colour!

It was cold with a fine drizzle, but I was pleased with myself for making the effort, so I thought a selfie was called for! I’d left the selfie stick in the car, and fingers were too cold and numb to have fiddled with it, but I managed this one:

I made my way back to the road the shortest way, not through the wood, then along the road to the car.

There’s plenty to tell about the rest of the day, but no more photographs because all the good moments occurred while driving. There were more rainbows, the best of which was as I drove alongside Thirlmere. The rainbow dipped right into the lake, and was reflected, of course. The waterfalls on the side of Helvellyn were spectacular, but approaching Blencathra (Saddleback) through the Vale of St. John’s – it wasn’t there! Well, it was, but low cloud was concealing it. I got to Rheged (just in time, if you know what I mean!) where I bought the paper and a snack for lunch to have with the boiled egg from the cool box, and the next call was at Westmorland Services where I made a couple of purchases at the farm shop. Then the journey home proceeded through increasingly bad weather to arrive in the last of the daylight.

The snow came four days later!

BONNE ANNEE!

Hippo Blue Beer!

*In his poem ‘An Evening Walk’ (describing a long trek, impossible to achieve in an evening, except as a memory!) Wordsworth wrote the line ‘where peace to Grasmere’s lonely island leads’. Some of us know what he means. Even when I first knew it, you could see from anywhere on the lakeshore that it was an island – a little green mound with a little shippen on it. What’s a shippen? It’s a dialect word for a small barn. I’ve always thought it was Lancashire, because I heard me Dad say it, but research tells me it’s Cheshire! Anyway, Grasmere’s island is now so tree-covered that it merges from any distance into the surrounding shore, at least it does from the east, and the barn can’t be seen, if indeed it’s still there. Back in the day, if you hired a rowing boat from the foot of Red Bank, you could beach the boat on the island and wander round. That was still possible when Carol first visited, spring 1987, bluebell time:

R. I. P.

I’m going to keep this brief (!) with just a few photos, and cover three days in the one post.

After driving to Llandrindod Wells on Thursday 29th August (2024) I found the Metropole Hotel (easy) and its car park (less easy) and went in to meet our Tour Guide for this 4-night visit to the ‘Valleys and little trains of Mid Wales’. My room was … disappointing, but I won’t go on about it.

Day 1, August 30th.

Our bus driver, Brian, drove us expertly (as he did throughout) through fine weather and pleasant scenery, passing below Cader Idris (not on the photo) to the head station of the Talyllyn Railway, where we met our first little ‘chuffer’, …

… which took us down to Towyn, near the coast, where Brian picked us up and drove us to Aberdyfi (Aberdovey – a single f is a ‘v’, y is ‘ɘ’ as in ‘the’ and i is as in ‘hit’). There I joined two companions for a glass of vin in a pub before rejoining the bus. The return to the hotel began with a very scenic drive alongside the Dyfi estuary.

Day 2. Friday 31st August.

I knew nothing about the Elan Valley before. An ambitious series of dams across this glaciated valley stores water to send to Birmingham by gravity only (no pumps), as in Thirlmere to Manchester. I wondered which came first and whether the architects and builders worked together. The Park Ranger who joined us on the bus at the Visitor Centre didn’t know, but research online soon discovered that Thirlmere was completed (1st phase) in 1894, and Elan 10 years later, though I still haven’t found anything about cooperation between them – or lack of it.

This was the first dam:

The drive up the valley was really challenging, and although he hadn’t done it before, Brian achieved it with his customary expertise.

At this dam we got out and walked along it – some (not me) as far as the other side:

Now, look at the green domed turret in the middle …… what would you call this:

A weather fish?!

This is the ravine below the dam – the water is being held back for essential repairs and maintenance:

We took the Ranger back to base at the Visitor Centre, following the slightly easier road on the other side of the valley, then made our way to Devil’s Bridge station at the top of the Vale of Rheidol Railway. Unfortunately, time was short and very few of us were able to use the time to walk to the famous 3 bridges, and I don’t think those who did saw the waterfalls. Most were interested in buying something to eat, or eating what they had. Then it was time to meet our second chuffer

and get on the train to go down to Aberystwyth.

After a brief bit of free time, we were back on the bus to go to the University – for a lesson on the Welsh Language. Before it started, there was an incident which should not have happened. Four of us, reluctant to use the stairs, got stuck in a lift which we should never have got into. It just moved so far, making a dreadful noise, and stopped between floors. There was a diagram showing maximum 2 persons, but no-one noticed that, or pointed it out to us, before we got in (tight squeeze) and got it moving. It didn’t last too long before help arrived, and the security man moved it from outside.

The Welsh lesson was fun and very well conducted by the tutor, focusing mainly on the alphabet, but we did get to sing ‘My hat has three corners’ in Welsh, with actions! (I always said you have to be childlike – not childish – to learn a language. Children are the experts – they do it better than anyone!)

Day 3. Sunday 1st September.

If I – or anyone else – had had any interest in what might have been on television that morning, or using the TV set in the room to listen to the radio because the FM signal to the bedside radio (one’s own) was hopeless, then we were disappointed – no TV reception anywhere in the hotel. In fact there hadn’t been on Saturday evening. Work was in hand, they said.

We had a later start that day than previously and didn’t have to be on the bus till 9.45. The weather had changed and there was a risk of drizzle, but the day was mainly better than forecast. Brian drove us to Powys Castle. The coach park was at the foot of a fairly steep approach to the entrance. A shuttle bus was on hand, so some of us took advantage of it. After a quick look at the state coach and associated items in the coach house (viewed through glass, not approached), it was through the archway into a lawned area to be met (confronted?) by this:

Many people, not only from our party, were taking photos of her, but no-one knew who she was! There was no information or inscription on the plinth. I ordered a pork, apple and stuffing ‘sausage’ roll at the nearby café and came out to sit at one of the tables surrounding the lawn. A man at the next table was quicker than I to find information about the statue. It’s the goddess Fame ‘borne aloft on the winged horse, Pegasus’. I’d never heard of Fame (aka Pheme, Fama or Ossa), so further research was called for. I’m not going to tell you all about her, but you can follow up if you want. She’s not a nice deity, but those who know my petname on one side of the family, and my granddaughter’s name on the other, might be amused to discover who her mother might have been!

I thought I’d pick up the shuttle again an see the lower gardens, where there might have been level walking and good views. It didn’t work! The bus didn’t arrive (on time) and I thought waiting for the next one risked making me late for ‘all aboard’. So I walked down the slope and spent an hour on the bus doing – guess what – a puzzle from the paper! (The i was delivered to me promptly at 6 am each morning, pushed under the door, so it didn’t disturb me.)

Once out of the estate (very narrow gate), Brian drove us to Llanfair Caereinion, at the head of the Welshpool and Llanfair Light Railway, and there we met our third and final chuffer:

Erm, …. Actually, sorry, I tell a lie – that’s not our chuffer, it’s one we met on the way down; our train was diesel hauled. To me, this ride was the best of the three. There were fewer stretches where the track was bordered by high hedges and trees (in full leaf), so more of the scenery was visible:

Of course, if we’d crossed a river that wide on a bridge like that on one of the other trains, it would have been just as visible, so that photo doesn’t really make the point!

After dinner that evening we were treated to a concert from a Welsh male voice choir, so, by chance, the ongoing lack of TV all round the hotel was compensated for! (I might have watched Episode 3 of ‘Sherwood’, but I’ve caught up on it since coming home. I find it very difficult to follow.) The concert made a very pleasant end to our weekend.

Maybe it’s not necessary, just slightly funny, to mention that I locked myself out of my room next morning while taking by stuff down to the car in relays! They were very good and quick to provide a second key card. The self-service breakfast was good each day, too.

Goodbye, then.

Who does he think he is? – The Fat Controller?

After the harbour-side lunch in Brixham (thieving seagull and all) I found my way back to the car and set off towards Paignton. I’d worked out that I had enough time to do a there-and-back trip on the Dart Valley Steam Railway, and still have plenty of time to get to Killerton for the performance of Hamlet.

I found a little station with a car park some distance away. I parked up and paid, and walked to said station. In spite of signage directing drivers to the station, only on arrival did I see signs saying trains stopped only at the two ends of the line, Paignton and Kingswear, not at any intermediate station! That information is in the small print on the leaflet which I could have picked up in Dartmouth, but I think that brown signs indicating steam trains should be removed if they point to a station where no trains stop.

What could I do? Walk back to the car, shrug off the expense of having paid, and head for Paignton. There, the Dart Valley line and the main line sit side by side, and appear to share the station. However, the entrance to one line does not give access to the other. The car park, though, serves both, and is further away from the Dart Valley Station than the main line, so more walking. That wasn’t the worst of it! – The ONLY parking was for the whole day!! No alternative seemed to be available.

When I got to the correct station, the train was just coming in from ‘the other end’. There was a 15-20 minute pause needed for the engine to change ends, so no rush, I thought. BUT the ticket office was unstaffed. A very nice man did appear, eventually, and asked if I wanted something. “Yes. I want to ride on that train!” He did his very best to make everything as good as it could be (apart from the expensive parking!). He allocated me a seat in the nearest carriage – it was just outside that very door (sorry! those less familiar with ‘The Ghost Train’ won’t realise why I’m phrasing it like that! There’s more to come!), and he explained that the ticket included the ferry crossing to Dartmouth and back (from and to Kingswear) and that I could return by any train. I wouldn’t be crossing to Dartmouth anyway, but returning on the same train.

So I hopped on (er, no – climbed on) and settled in for the trip.

What I’m going to do now is post a few photos of the ride, with a minimum of comment. No more rambling narrations – not till the final event, anyway!

(Sorry about the finger!)

Coming in to Kingswear – that’s Dartmouth over the river.

The engine comes down from the other end to reconnect for the return.

OK – where’s David?

I must get one of those! (When the boat comes in …)

A red lamp! There’s someone … (I told you there was more ‘Ghost Train’ to come!)

Looks like someone’s been bargain hunting!

Paington has some very nice beaches – I wish I’d known that last week!

So what remains? It was no problem to get from Paignton to Killerton in good time. I probably stopped at the Moto services, since they were on the way, then I tried to follow brown NT signs to Killerton House, rather than ask Satnav to find it, but even they weren’t visible when needed once or twice. No problem parking at Killerton, and the buggy service was available to get those who needed the service to the ‘theatre’, or nearly.

As we know, “the play’s the thing ….” – it’s a quote from Hamlet, so what of it? It’s a very long play; it could take between four and five hours to perform, according to scholars. It is always cut, but this group of seven male performers shredded it to less than two hours, racing through what was left of Shakespeare’s script at breakneck speed!

I could go on – I often do about Hamlet!

The journey home on Wednesday 24th July was uneventful, apart from one 20 minute delay – a complete standstill on M5, and once at home, I ate the one remaining boiled egg, which had survived the week! Smudge seemed pleased to see me, but he had been well looked after by my neighbour, Tracy, and a couple of visits from Chris.

If I had to sum up this trip in one word it would be ‘disappointing’ – but with the rider ‘there were some good moments’.

Here’s one last photo:

“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history ….” (That’s from ‘As You Like It’, but it fits …)

Visitors to Garth View and / or Sunejo (our homes in Cumbria and France) might recognise this picture:

It’s a painting of Brixham fishmarket and it belonged to Carol’s father. When the family had to empty the house in Potter’s Bar, no-one else wanted it, so Carol brought it to our house and we hung it. It says on the back that it’s by Wilfred Fryer and was exhibited at the Royal Society of Marine Artists. I really don’t have anywhere to hang it here, so I thought of taking it down to Devon and seeing if any shop or gallery was interested in it, especially in Brixham. However, I didn’t feel I had the necessary materials or the skill to pack it safely, and wasn’t confident about putting it in the car along with everything else. So I took its photo, and one of the back as well.

Tuesday July 23rd. The last full day of this trip, not counting the journey home. I set off for Brixham, setting Satnav to take me to the Strand Art Gallery, which she did, but I didn’t realise we were there. I hadn’t looked carefully enough at the pictures of the outside to understand that what I was really looking for was a discreet entrance at the side of an amusement arcade! The gallery was upstairs above that arcade.

So I went twice round the harbour and the town, till I spotted a car park which I thought might be close enough (and it had the ‘necessary places’). I found the way in, paid for a few hours, and made my way back to the harbour on foot. I passed the ‘discreet entrance’ at least twice before I realised I was there and went in and up the stairs.

Well! What a place, and what a reception! Two large rooms, and the stairway as well, covered with every kind of local artwork! Seascapes, buildings, people, boats, ships, all weathers – I’m not sure that the highland cattle were really local, but they get everywhere! And the charming lady! On seeing the photograph, she exclaimed “Oh, that is beautiful! Why on earth would you want to get rid of that?” I said that wasn’t really my feeling about it, but I wanted to make better use of it that having it leaning against the wall in the little spare room, unhung. She didn’t know Mr. Fryer, but she looked him up for me, and the Royal Society of Marine Artists, of which she printed out details and suggested that might be the best place to start my further enquiries. In spite of her enthusiasm for the piece, she said she didn’t want it, even if I were able to get it to her, as she had all the paintings she could manage.

I went back out into the sunshine. Just over the road from the gallery was this piece of history:

That is Francis Drake’s ship, the Golden Hind. It was possible to visit it and look round, but I was more interested in choosing the most suitable place, out of all the options available, for a fish or seafood lunch. I walked the length of the harbour wall, looked at lots of places and lots of menus, and settled for a little hut with outdoor seating on the edge of the harbour. Most of the restaurants were across the road, and this little place was actually a subsidiary of one of them, it was called ‘Claws’ and the spot over the road was ‘Claws Indoors’.

I chose a small seafood selection, served with two slices of brown bread:

THEN – an incident reminiscent of one beside Grasmere many years ago, when a little Rachel had her sandwich stolen from her hand by a swooping seagull! Yes! This flying fiend came suddenly from behind, over my shoulder and snatched BOTH slices of bread, which it took away to a nearby moored ship and fed them to its fledglings!

So how come there’s one slice of bread in the photo? This was taken after the young ladies staffing the place had done what they could to help, with the comment “you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last!”. They replaced the bread free of charge, and offered to raise the parasol which until then had been folded. They thought it might thwart any further attacks, and it seemed to work. It was a nice little meal, and afterwards I crossed the road to Claws Indoors where there was no problem about using the ‘necessary place’.

Now, I think this post has been long enough, so I’ll proof read now and publish. Can’t say whether ‘Chuffer and Hamlet’ will merge into one post, or whether another division will be needed, so:

WATCH THIS SPACE!

Got there this time! (Monday 22nd July) First thing was to find a car park for the Quay – and pay for it! Then make my way down to the riverside, buy the paper, and have a glass of iced coffee outside a café / antique shop:

Definitely the best non-alcoholic drink of the trip – no contenders! Did a quick browse of the antiques – no bargains! Something seemed to have changed since 2010; it was not possible this year to walk from where I was along the riverside to the busier part of the Quay. One of the eating / drinking establishments seems to have built a veranda out over the path and obliged people to walk round on the street side, unless customers. So I did that and got to where a boat trip was about to depart:

Now, who knew that Exeter has a Ship Canal? The oldest canal in England, we were told. I said I thought Manchester might have something to say about that, not to mention Leeds and Liverpool. I haven’t researched it since.

Anyway, after a short stretch of river boating, were turned off into the Ship Canal, where approaching the first bridge, it looked a bit challenging!:

We can’t get under there! No, not with it like that – two young men (crew) have to hop off the boat when it gets close to the wall on the right, release and relocate the barriers to prevent traffic crossing, then push the bridge physically round to the open position to let the boat through. Reverse the procedure once we were through and hop back on!

This canal is much wider than the ones usually travelled by narrow boats. There were some interesting craft at the side:

I said “I don’t think they’ll ever refloat it!”. Returning towards the Quay, we went through the last bridge, and emerged back onto the river:

It was lunch time. Today’s eating pattern was different: the nearest pub / restaurant to the guest house is a Chinese, within walking distance for some (not me!). It had just reopened after refurbishment, and on Mondays they do a buffet! So I was going to delay the main meal of the day till the evening. More later. I had to get back to the car (time running out), but after climbing the same steps and stairs by which I had come down, I couldn’t find it! Signage seemed inadequate, and I couldn’t identify the door through which I had come off the ‘deck’ into the stairway! I managed in the end by going onto the deck below where the car was and retracing my way, on foot, which I had driven earlier.

So where did I go to eat? No!! I wouldn’t, would I? Yes!! I would and I did – onto the motorway at J29 and off again at the service area! Cool bag now being less useful, except for that chilled drop of wine, I bought a sandwich at M & S or Smiths – can’t remember which.

So then what? Back into Exeter, and I tried to get Satnav to take me back to that area where I had fallen asleep in the rain on Saturday. It was inaccessible, closed off for road works. I cruised around a bit, believing, but not sure, that I was close to the cathedral and found a kerbside parking space. Payment by RingGo or coins. The signage offered one or two hours, but when I tried to pay RingGo for two, it said that wasn’t allowed! I didn’t have sufficient coins. The nearest shop – right there – was a sports / fitness equipment shop. A young man was seated at a desk with no customers. I told him the issue and asked if he could help me with coins. He couldn’t. Seeing my situation and state of stress he said “Look, if you’re sure to be back within two hours, you can use my space – I don’t use it”. This was a designated space on a private area at the side of the building. How kind of him!

So I moved the car and set off on foot to find the cathedral, which could not be seen, though only four minutes away according to Google. Soon I was on the ‘green’ in front of the cathedral, and at the side there was a kiosk selling drinks. I was warm enough to fancy another iced coffee. Not as good as the first, nowhere near! I looked across at the façade and reflected that I had never seen so much statuary which showed no sign of protestant vandalism!

It’s a splendid edifice, and I went inside – you have to pay – and walked round the interior, but didn’t really make time to study the stained glass, of which there is a lot, nor other potentially interesting pieces. This was not through lack of time, but inability to stand comfortably for long periods.

So it was back to the car, and out of town to the guest house to change clothes for the evening. The Chinese Buffet was pleasant, but different from the one we used to have in Huddersfield (so sad it didn’t survive the pandemic). There were no chefs cooking to order or behind counters, just a room with tables round the edge on which were heated casseroles containing an assortment of dishes but not much variety or special interest.

I thought I might include Tuesday in this post – hence the title, which I like the sound of! But it’s been long enough (too long?) and there’s a lot to tell about Tuesday, so I’ll leave the ‘Et Cetera’ till next time: Brixham, a Chuffer, and Hamlet.

(And a Sunny Sunday in Salcombe)

A happy memory from 2010 made me want to revisit the Quay at Exeter and possibly also the cathedral, which we (Carol & I) didn’t see on that occasion. A highlight was feeding some very tame pigeons, who were not only willing to come to take food from your hand, but to pose for photos as well!

So I decided to visit Exeter on Saturday 20th July, and to make time during the visit to try to get on ‘Any Answers’ in response to an issue raised on ‘Any Questions’ the previous evening. The weather had changed from the heat of the previous days; in fact it deteriorated into some serious rain.

I came across a Beefeater pub, and thought I could spend some time there with the crossword and puzzles from the day’s paper, and also have an early lunch. I chose beef and ale pie – nothing special.

Then I let Garmin try to guide me to the cathedral, and she (it) took me into a park area amongst buildings which might have been close to the cathedral. Roadside parking was by RingGo, so I paid for a few hours but it was now time to call the radio programme. They were interested, apparently, in what I had to say about the House of Lords (it represents me more than the other place does, quite often, and that other place, elected or not, doesn’t represent ‘the People’ at all). They called me back and asked me to stand by to go on air. HOWEVER, on this occasion, and I can’t remember a similar one, the entire system for connecting callers to the presenter broke down completely and the programme was abandoned! I fell asleep.

The rain was too heavy for me, on waking, to contemplate finding my way on foot from where I was to the cathedral, so I gave up. Visiting the quay was no more tempting. I’d seen posters for a concert by a local male voice choir in Exmouth that evening, so I thought I’d drive down there and give it a go. I parked up for a short time on the Esplanade – long enough to have my picnic in the car, but when it came to deciding, I didn’t really fancy sitting in a church for a couple of hours listening to music which may or may not have appealed to me, so I headed for ‘home’.

For old times’ sake I wanted to visit Salcombe and Dartmouth. The weather had improved again on Sunday so I set off down there. It was very busy in Salcombe but I got a space in a small car park beside the harbour. Time was limited, so I decided not to wait for Moules Marinières at a waterside café just by the car park, but instead I indulged in an expensive, but disappointing, crab sandwich from a shop round the corner. Least good meal of the trip – no contenders!

Honestly, to my mind, Salcombe has been spoilt:

I remember it from the seventies as a beauty spot, but that’s not how it appears to me now. Too commercialised, too many craft, too many dinghies.

Disappointed, I moved on to Dartmouth. A bit better, I thought:

I got lucky with parking, and wandered about a bit. I saw posters about the Dartmouth Steam Railway, and there was a booth giving info and selling tickets. Their ‘top buy’ was a Round Robin, including the train ride, a river trip, and a coach to get back to your starting point – probably Totness. I wanted to do it the next day, but the river cruise doesn’t go on a Monday! Tuesday seemed a bit risky to me because of the need to be back at Killerton for the evening.

While ‘wandering’ I found this memorial about D-Day sailings. I didn’t know that Dartmouth had been used as a departure point.

That’s not a good photo, unfortunately. I had to take it obliquely because a couple of seniors were sitting on their fold-up chairs directly in front of the memorial and didn’t take any notice of an old man try to take its picture. But anyway, the plaque spoke to me because of its message. I was irritated in June this year when some folk tried to hi-jack the D-Day 80-year commemoration by linking it to the election campaign, and accusing paper spoilers such as me of letting their fathers / grandfathers down who fought for Democracy, so that I could have the vote. No, they didn’t! Having visited some of the Normandy beaches, and spoken to French people who were there, I know the invasion was not for any notion of Democracy, but for La Liberté. (Freedom) The plaque says it all.

Dartmouth has three ferries across the river. This one:

which takes foot passengers across the river to and from Kingswear, where the railway station is, and two car ferries, known as the higher and the lower. I chose to cross on the higher. There was a bit of a wait – not unlike Bowness – but once on board we were required to stay in our vehicles, with no view of the river so nothing worth photographing!

After the car ferry, I headed north towards Exeter and a search for a picnic site proving as unsuccessful as ever, guess where I ended up? – Yes! – the Moto service area just North of M5 J30:

This time I climbed the hill which makes up most of the picnic site, having noticed that if you did that, you might find a table in the shade! Unfortunately, in spite of the fresh ice pack each day, the cold potatoes brought from home were no longer fit for consumption. I think I bought a packet of crisps to go with the (hard boiled) egg – egg n chips, eh?

Back at the Grange, I was able to watch most of the film version of ‘The Ghost Train’, with Arthur Askey. (Meaning he was in the film, not watching it with me!) To a ‘Ghost Train’ addict since teenage, it’s a bit of a travesty, but it filled the time.

What’s next? Exeter Quay and cathedral at the second attempt, a visit to Brixham, a ride on the chuffer and ‘Hamlet’ at Killerton. It might all get into one chapter, or it might not!

This is the Dartmouth higher ferry, taken from the train, two days later:

It’s Friday 19th July (2024) and I’m determined to get to a beach with clean water! Memories of one or two holidays from the early seventies have led me to look up Bigbury-on-Sea, and yes, all is well there regarding the quality of the water.

So I put the postcode into Satnav and after retrieving the ice pack which was frozen overnight, we get en route. At one point on a fairly narrow lane with high hedges there’s a 20 minute delay as two large vehicles going in opposite direction come face to face (headlight to headlight?) and traffic immediately stacks up behind them. Once that was over, Garmin seemed unable to distinguish between unclassified roads and A roads, constantly telling me to follow A 3121 when we’d already left it!

So I was delighted after much wriggling and weaving around lanes without views, finally to come over a brow and see the spit of sand which separates Bigbury from Burgh Island. So delighted that I was keen to pull over and take its photograph:

(The phantom fingers are a reflection of the gloves which I keep on the dashboard – I didn’t realise.)

That sand is visible and available at low tide, but is covered by the sea around high tide, necessitating the use of the sea tractor for those wishing to cross to or from the hotel or the pub on the island, or who have gone for a walk round the island and got cut off.

I went on down and investigated the car park, but I didn’t want to park up and head for the beach just then as it was (nearly) lunch time. Searching on line, I had found several possible places, and was particularly tempted by The Oyster Shack. You can find lots of pictures of this fairly rustic place, and their produce, simply by searching ‘The Oyster Shack Bigbury’. I trusted Garmin to get me there, and I arrived at 12.20. The greeting was pleasant and smiley – ‘What can we do for you, sir?’ – ‘Well, I was thinking I might have lunch’. They didn’t serve lunch till 12.30, but I was happy to sit in the sun and wait, with a glass of refreshingly cold white wine. The menu with all its options was explained to me and I chose to have just six oysters. These were served on a plate of ice (containing crushed ice, not made of ice!) and they were another contender for best meal of the trip. Expensive, with the wine, but I enjoyed it.

I made my way back to Bigbury, with the intention of having some beach time, including a dip in the sea. Parking was a problem (the word ‘nightmare’ also springs to mind). It had to be done by ‘Pay by Phone’ – not RingGo which I’m fairly familiar with by now. I wasn’t the only one struggling with it! Phone signal was weak which didn’t help, obviously, but eventually I sorted it and paid for 4 hours. Then I made my way down to the beach, not where the sea might cover the sand, but this one:

When I went down to it, there was a lot more sand available than on the photo and both the sky and the sea were a perfect blue. The photo was taken after I had left the beach. I found a suitable spot, spread out my beach mat (a convertible bag – been a boon for years!), and tried to take appropriate precautions against sunburn. You know, anointing yourself all over with factor whatever, isn’t easy! I did miss a few bits and it showed, but nothing too drastic. Then I headed for the water; yes, I went IN. Back at the mat, I fell asleep for a little while. Waking up, I decided another dip would be a good idea, but on returning, I realised that getting back to the steps leading up to the car park wouldn’t be possible without paddling! So I did that.

That’s when I decided to go to a viewpoint and take photos of the sea tractor leaving Burgh Island:

and returning to the mainland:

Btw: Burgh Island was a favourite spot for Agatha Christie, and two of her well known stories were set there, including ‘And Then There Were None’. To learn more of this search ‘Burgh Island Agatha Christie’.

It was now time to decide where to go next and have my picnic ‘tea’. I looked online for picnic sites and this was when I discovered how few sites there are in this area with parking and tables. I saw one and tried to find it. Either it doesn’t exist or the signage is inadequate. I did get to a nice viewpoint on a NT property, and there I began to regret not having packed my folding table as well as the chair. I gave up and headed for ‘home’. This led me to the southern end of the M5, and between J30 where it ends, and J29 (for my guest house), there is a Moto service area which actually includes a picnic site!

This was the ONLY picnic site I found all week! At this time, Friday 20th July, the food I had brought from home was still useable so I enjoyed my hard boiled egg with potatoes and mayonnaise, and, of course, a tiny bottle of white wine. There might have been some cheese and grapes as well. Naturally, a picnic site on a service area does give one access to other facilities, which, in Esperanto, we call necessary places!

So I got back to my little bedroom at the Grange Boutique Hotel in time to listen to ‘Any Questions’ – an activity which had repercussions the next day!

Next up – a Soggy Saturday in Exeter!

Well that’s it, really! A cruise on the Rhein while Harry, the motorhome, waited at Oberbuschem, then south to Strasburg with an overnight at Bad Kreuznach.

From Salzburg to Tegernsee, where I hired a car for three days, then on to Egnach beside Lake Constance, from where I visited the Rheinfall. Into Alsace and home via Verdun and Berny-Riviere. Overnight both outgoing and homecoming at Surbiton.

All the outstanding places can be found online, with better pictures than mine (or some that look just the same!). What? You actually want to see some of mine? OK.

The Rhine cruise was called ‘Gilbert and Sullivan on the Rhein’, and there was a first-rate concert every evening (except day one) by a brilliant foursome and their pianist:

The weather was good, the scenery was wonderful and the companions I was lucky enough to join were the ‘icing on the cake’:

Villages, vineyards, fortresses, and excursions:

Salzburg was the most disappointing – because it rained on the day I booked a double sightseeing trip, first by bus, then by boat. This is the only photo really worth looking at:

There was a lovely lake, Chiemsee, beside the motorway between Salzburg and Munich, with a layby right beside it:

That’s my daft companion, Dippy Cat.

Tegernsee was gorgeous. I went up a nearby mountain in a cable car, sailed round the southern part of the lake, and visited some Austrian countryside:

Similarly, the sight of the Bodensee (Lake Constance) caused me to turn off from my planned route (insofar as I had a plan), and stay in what must be one of the best campsites / caravan parks in Europe. Only drawback was that there just wasn’t enough water to swim in!

I didn’t know about the Rheinfall before. They claim it’s the biggest waterfall in Europe, but I think that depends on whether you count Iceland as being in Europe. I have no opinion. Lots of pictures online, here’s one of mine:

No photos after that, except a couple of rather poor efforts of a swimming pool complex at one of the campsites on the way back through France (I was trying to be discreet), and a picture of the snails I had as a starter for my last-night-in-France treat at the restaurant. (Followed by scallops, which weren’t in the news then!)

Total distance in Harry, during exactly one month away: 3,652kms or 2,202 miles. I probably won’t do anything like it again. In fact, I’m thinking of trading in both Harry and my car for a smaller van, but with 5 seats for travelling and the possibility to sleep four – better for taking the families out.

(Thanks for looking at this – if you’re eager or just interested for more detail and more pictures, just click into the previous entries on the blog, or photo-journal as I prefer to call it. For chronological order, start with ‘An August Adventure’.)

Where were we? Oh yes, just reunited with Harry and Dippy on the campsite in Oberbischem:

Only 10am on Monday 6th August, and it’s very hot. Not planning to move on today, so I was able to get the whole week’s washing done and dried and have meals from what was already in Harry’s cupboard and what I’d bought when I asked the taxi driver to stop at a supermarket on the way back from Bensberg.

There had been many caravan parks/campsites along the Rhine, and I had thought that I might park up in one of them:

How about that converted bus for a motorhome?

However, I should probably have headed back to Cologne to follow the river from there, but I set the satnav to Mainz, and didn’t reach the Rhine until well further south. I crossed it on a ferry (a bit like Bowness (on Windermere) ) and found a caravan park at Bad Kreuznach:

You can see I kept well away from K*bl@nz! The caravan park was very nice, and with G&S still echoing in my head, the words “hung about with trellised vine” came easily to mind:

There was a lake at the side, and people were bathing in it, but with the lack of rain it looked a bit stagnant to me and, in spite of the heat, I didn’t fancy it.

So I moved on next morning (Wednesday 8th August) with Satnav set for Salzburg. I’d spotted a lake, the Chiemsee, right beside the motorway between Munich and Salzburg, and it looked very attractive from the pictures I saw – I was able to use a tablet (a freebie with Super U’s loyalty card from when we lived in France) – to look for stuff online, and there were lots of Campsites around, so I thought it would make a good spot to break the journey, and maybe stay a while.

I headed for a lakeside site near Prien, but it was full, so were two more I tried. It was getting late. My Satnav (new for this trip) had special content for caravaners and motorhomers (if you could find it!) so I searched for a motorhome stopover or something similar. It / she directed me to a spot not far away where there was a rough car park giving access to a beach, a landing stage, a café-restaurant, and public toilets. Overnight parking was allowed for €10 for just one night. A number of vans were already installed and more came – and a caravan – during what turned out to be a thunderstormy evening. But the night was quiet enough, and the location very attractive.

(Thursday 9th) People were arriving very early for their morning swim / canoeing / paddle boarding, but I wasn’t quite up for it. I found info about a campsite actually in Salzburg, and phoned ahead to see if there was space. I really nice man answered in English (presumably recognising the incoming call was from a UK number) and said they had pitches available, but they didn’t take reservations on the phone; the pitches were allocated on a first come / first served basis. I thought I should get there ASAP. It was only a short hop – sorry, Harry! a short drive; I know you don’t hop, you’ve told me before, – but as you can see on the map, Salzburg was just over the border into Austria. This meant stopping to buy a ‘vignette’, a window sticker, from a grumpy garage man. Without the sticker you risk heavy fines if you use the motorway. It’s an alternative to tolls, whereas Germany’s motorways are free and some sections have no speed limit! But limits appear frequently and there are many stretches of road works ….

I got to the campsite around midday, after shopping at a big SPAR just down the road and that nice man booked me in, apologetically explaining that their prices were for at least two people minimum. I had to shrug that off, though in the end he gave me a 10% discount. It was very hot; the site had a pleasant pool; I went for a swim.

The next day (Friday 10th) was a big disappointment! The receptionist had given me a lot of information and leaflets about excursions bookable at the site, and departing from the site. Salzburg, of course is famous for Mozart, The Sound of Music, and salt (Salz is German for salt, so ‘Salttown’). I chose a double sightseeing trip, first by bus, then by boat. But it rained! So the bus tour, though interesting, lacked the essential view of the mountains! When told that the mountain we were looking at (not!) was where the escape of the Von Trapps was shown in the film, we simply saw no mountain! (In fact the actual mountain over which they escaped to Switzerland was behind us, also not visible. Had they gone over the one used in the film, they would have gone down into Germany – oops!) Similarly, the boat trip afforded no views, and the most interesting bit was information about the design of the boat itself, made to cope with the strong current but shallow water. Fortunately, it didn’t rain quite all the day, because after the boat trip I had to make my own way to find a bus to take me back to the campsite. I sheltered from one shower by having a glass of Weißwein under the awning of a Gasthaus.

This is what the bus tour looked like most of the time:

And this is perhaps the only (half-way) good photo of the day:

Saturday 11th August : I’d identified my next park, near Tegernsee, which is both a town and a lake. At first this confused me, but it shouldn’t have, because for ‘see’ (pronounced ‘zay’) read ‘mere’ and remember that in Cumbria we have Windermere, Grasmere, Buttermere, all of which are both towns (or villages) and lakes, so there should be no need for confusion.

Using the motorway, the route goes back past Chiemsee, but travelling westbound, there’s a layby immediately beside the lake, where we stopped for lunch:

 

As you see, the weather was fine again, and when I got the first sight of the Tegernsee, I thought ‘I’m staying here for a few days – might hire a car and explore a bit’. The campsite was a bit weird and dated, with undefined pitches, but I parked up and sat in the sun for while, trying to make eye contact and greet anyone who came near. Folk didn’t seem to want to communicate.

Sunday (12th) was, not to put too fine a point on it, a miserable day. The weather was bad, and although I made – and enjoyed – a coq au vin for lunch, I then got a migraine and spent the afternoon in bed listening, when awake, to the rain battering the roof. At that point on that soggy Sunday, I couldn’t have known that the best days since the cruise were still to come, and I would have packed up and headed for home next day, but I had an echo of Carol telling me to persevere when I nearly gave up on my way to the Esperanto Congress in Gotenburg (2003) and the old Box no. 2 was playing up even before I left England … and the support team back in Yorkshire had swung into action! Chris had located a computer repair shop in the nearest village, and although the people at the campsite reception had told me there was no car hire firm anywhere nearby, Rachel had found three, one of which was within easy walking distance!

So at 9am Monday morning, 13th August (Carol’s birthday), I rang the nearest of the three car hire places. As we all know, ‘everyone speaks English’ ….. Oh, no, they don’t! The phone call and the subsequent paperwork etc. all had to be done in German. And why not? Of course, I made a mistake while walking to the dealer’s, turning the wrong way out of the lane* and going several hundred yards / metres in the wrong direction, into blinding sunlight with no hat or sunglasses …. I found McDonald’s and the computer shop, which were useful later, but three people I asked had no idea where this car hire place was, although one young lady who was waiting for a bus tried to find it on her phone, but still got it wrong, so that was some more walking the wrong way …. kind of her to try, though. Eventually, I retraced the route and found the place, only about 50 metres from the lane end where the campsite is! So I drove back to Harry in this big, black, shiny new Opel, and for the first time a conversation opened up with the neighbours! First the man opposite came across, followed by his wife. “Ist dass der neue Opel?” Is it the new Opel? I don’t know – I suppose so, I’ve just hired it. Two more men arrived to admire the vehicle and, apparently, to discuss cars with each other … the conversation went on without me, as they stood around admiring ‘my’ car!

*The campsite was situated in ‘Rainerweg’, correct pronunciation, I presume, ‘Riner – vek’, but Satnav kept calling it what it looks like to English eyes. She knew to pronounce the neutral ‘e’ (as in ‘the’) at the end of ‘Straße’, (and that ß was equivalent to a double s)but that was about it. Some of her distortions when we got to France were even more amusing. But then, I guess some Brits would be more helped by wrong versions than by correct pronunciation. I wonder what foreign Satnavs make of English place names, not to mention Welsh ones?!

Tourist office next (campsite reception useless), where a nice young lady in …..’attractive’ Bavarian costume gave me not much more advice than I could find in the leaflets I’d picked up, then McDonald’s, for the wifi, and the computer shop. A young man who did speak English took the laptop in for observation, saying he would do what he could in three days.

So I set off to explore, and, not quite intentionally, drove the full circuit of the lake:

Finding myself more or less back at base – the campsite is in Rottach-Egern – I had lunch at Harry:

Then in the afternoon I took the road south, crossing back into Austria, then up a side road into what looked like typical Austrian countryside: 

The return drive was slightly spoiled by two things, a thunderstorm and a recurring tummy upset. I won’t go into details.

Two attractions seemed to be calling: a boat trip round the lake, and a ride in the cable car up Wallberg. However, Tuesday’s weather seemed unpromising, though as it happens, it turned out better than I feared, so I decided to postpone the treats till Wednesday. This is where I might have been more adventurous had I received more detailed advice at the tourist office. I think I may have missed out on some good spots. As it was, I drove round the nearest mountain (or one of them) to the Spitlingsee:

Understand that there’s no straight line from Rottach-Egern to this little lake (the red marker). The route was from the northern end of Tegernsee and round past Schliersee. This outing gave me my most expensive picnic spot! €4 and I only stayed an hour – the charge was for the whole day … I think the attendant was surprised to see me leave!

THAT would have been the straight line from Harry!

From now on, choosing the photos to show becomes difficult again, as on the Rhine cruise. I took so many! Wednesday 15th was indeed a double treat. First, the cable car ride to just below the summit of Wallberg (1772m / 5183ft) – I didn’t complete the ascent on foot – lunch at the ‘panoramic’ restaurant – a cabin to myself on the way down – and the boat trip round the southern part of Tegernsee.

Apart from those already deleted I have 83 pictures of all that, including a couple of videos! I selected 15, and paired them down to 10. Wallberg first:

Then the lake trip:

 

 

So the three day car hire had been a success, with only minor setbacks. After returning the car on Thursday 16th soon after 9, I had to settle up for the 5-night stay on the campsite. A ‘new’ man at the window – that’s all ‘reception’ was – told me they took only German cards … I would have to go to Aldi to get cash from the ATM on the same site. I offered to give him my passport back. He said (in English) “You’ll come back – I know you’ll come back.” That was the nicest thing anyone had said to me for five days! All that was left was to park up at McD’s for a bit of wifi (and a breakfast bun) and collect the computer from the shop where they declared it ‘dead’, though someone with more time might be able to recover my documents and photos; then set the Satnav for a lake among the mountains in Switzerland and get under way …. But we never got to that lake …. I wonder what it would have been like ….

Why we didn’t get there, and what we did instead, which involved the best caravan park EVER and Europe’s biggest waterfall, will be explained next time ….

Sail away, sail away, sail away ….. well, drive away, anyway.