We were on the happy train bound for Vancouver. Our previous week was spent on a road trip in the states of Oregon and Washington – see blog below. The reason for the train trip was that I was unable to find a way to drop our hire car picked up In Portland Oregon, USA and leave it in another country, Vancouver, Canada. We dropped the hire car off in Seattle and boarded the Amtrak train from Seattle train station to Vancouver. Now train travel in the states is a bit different to train travel in the UK. Seattle train station was immaculate, but no shops or places to eat in the station. They even had a real person call everyone to board the train in an orderly manner. Once on the train I was surprised at just how happy and chatty fellow passengers were. It was a 4-hour train ride, but it flew by due to the Pacific coast scenery and the chit chat with fellow passengers.

Vancouver was a breath of fresh air compared to Seattle, it just felt more pleasant. We were staying for four nights in an Airbnb. I was not blind to the fact that Vancouver had problems, but there seemed to be less homeless people around, not on the scale of Seattle. Our flat was near to the hip and happening Yaletown and for the four nights I became a modern-day city dweller. Starbucks was across the road; I had entered the 15-minute city apparently an “international socialist concept” according to some Tory nonentity – you can’t beat a good socialist concept. Whilst in Vancouver I ticked off another Parkrun country, by doing the Richmond Olympic Parkrun, close to Vancouver airport. We spent a day on Granville Island and went off for a whale watching jaunt. We were lucky to see killer whales or Orcas and a grey whale. I must admit I had a lump in my throat as the Orcas were spotted in their natural habitat.  A bit disappointed that they were not jumping through hoops. Loro Parque Tenerife must have had the clever ones. A similar disappointment was that the local seals were not balancing balls on their noses as we passed them by, basking on the floating log beds, killjoys.

The reason for visiting Vancouver was that we were meeting friends and heading off on a cruise to Alaska. The cruise liner was the Ruby Princess, Princess Cruises being the model for the Love Boat TV series. I watched an episode whilst onboard.

Our first stop in Alaska was Juneau. In all the Alaskan towns we visited you still get a sense of the frontier not being far away. Juneau was no exception. The city of Juneau can only be reached by sea or air, no roads can reach it from the mainland, due to the rugged environment surrounding the city. Its status as a city was amusing as the current population is only thirty-one thousand. As my previous blog states those Americans just don’t get irony. The four cruise ships visiting on the day we did must have brought an extra ten thousand people. The cruise ships are the equivalent of a modern-day gold rush, bringing dollars to the city. This explains the numerous jewellers in all the Alaskan ports. My favourite jewellers being the one selling Tanzanite from the fabled country of Tanzilvanya (I made that bit up)

Next stop Skagway, the port used by those gold prospectors in the 1898 gold rush. We took a train trip up the White pass, originally a trail used during the Klondike Gold Rush, then converted into a rail line. The scenery and engineering were astounding. Back at Skagway the National Park Service came to the rescue. They own several of the buildings in the main thoroughfare called State Street.and we were lucky to catch a Ranger talk. I love a good Ranger talk, I think my daughter would disagree, she still has nightmares because of the one too many battlefield tours as she grew up.

If cruise ships do drive-bys then that is what we did in Glacier Bay. The glaciers coming off the mountains falling into the sea were impressive, but I was more impressed by the many sea otters laying on their backs as the cruise ship passed. It looked sometimes as if they were waving, or it could have been other more discourteous gestures, as we intruded into their pristine space and environment.

Our last port of call was Ketchikan, and we went to the only show in town. The Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show. These guys were lumberjacks and they were okay. Looking at their muscles I think they did sleep all night and worked all day. The show was pure pantomime, lots of checked shirts and timber, literally. The show was really enjoyable especially as it was a wet day in Ketchikan. We were under cover. Not undercover as in a police covert operation, under cover out of the torrential rain, duh.

Our last two days were a blur of travel. We had a sea day on the cruise ship back to Vancouver. We skirted Vancouver Island, the world’s 43^rd largest island, trees, trees everywhere. This was followed by disembarkation the following morning in Vancouver. They like to get you off the ship early as there is a quick turnaround of cruise punters. This meant a long wait at Vancouver airport, or it would have been if we had not booked a hotel room at the airport, overlooking the runway. This was the best money spent on the whole trip. We only had the room for six hours. It was the best six hours of the holiday, knowing that I did not have to sit in uncomfortable airport chairs for over six hours. It made a long day followed by an eight-hour flight a bit more bearable. VIva Vancouver.

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May 2024

Seattle you have a problem. Maybe unfair on Seattle as I think most US west coast cities have issues. But it was Seattle we chose to arrive in after a four-day road trip, more on that later. After we checked in to our hotel, we thought we would take a walk downtown to the Pike Place Fish Market, to see flying fish. That is when I entered the zombie apocalypse. On every street corner, no exaggeration, we encountered the undead.

Seattle you really do have a problem. We had to cross the road to avoid large groups of lost souls. Standing still with bent knees, opened mouthed, looking into the abyss. Open drug abuse everywhere, homeless squalor and tented communes mixing with normal living people. I did not feel threatened, but I did feel uncomfortable. I do come from a country that does have its own homeless and drug problems, but not on the scale witnessed in Seattle.

Seattle needs to wake up and solve its problem. I travel for new experiences hopefully good ones, but this was a painful experience, sad to watch and sad to see. The causes I am sure are many, but drug abuse must be the leading factor, an epidemic, with no welfare provision. Guardian angels long ago left Seattle and you sense very few of the afflicted will ever recover.

We had flown into Portland, Oregon earlier in the week. We headed south to the city of Medford via the scenic route, driving the coast road Route 101, through Siuslaw National Forest and glimpsing the Oregon Dunes area. We had chosen a bed and breakfast in Medford. The intimacy you get with a B&B did not disappoint. The reason we headed south from Portland was to visit Crater Lake. Driving up to Crater Lakes visitor centre we started encountering the snow. As we approached the visitor centre, a group of youths were taking a photo. The surprising point was that they were standing on the roof of the two-storey visitor centre – that was how deep the snow was.

Next stop Sisters, we arrived at our hotel in Sisters. Just in time for Happy Hour and a free drink offer. I cannot remember going to bed that night, it was a very happy hour. A mixture of too much wine, jet lag and the drive up to Sisters. Sorry Sisters but we did not really do your town or the surrounding area justice, I spent most of my time visiting the bottom of the wine glass. The next day it was an early start heading up to Mount Hood and visiting Timberline Lodge. Bruno and Heidi were not at work (you may have to google for that reference) Thankfully the winter caretaker Jack Torrance was not there either (I love google)

A night in Hood River was followed by a visit to Mount St Helens. Growing up the explosion in 1980 of Mount Saint Helens was one of those major events. Fed to us in the UK on only three TV channels BBC1, BBC2 and ITV. I would be surprised it would get the same coverage nowadays. Whilst in the visitor centre three coachloads of elderly Americans landed. They shuffled in taking all the theatre seats and getting in the way of the exhibits. I have used this statement before, but all I could see was old people, we decided to head off. We were heading for what we thought then were the bright lights of Seattle.

Seattle is home to some of the world’s wealthiest corporations, Starbucks, Amazon and Microsoft, three iconic mega companies make Seattle their home. Add countless other successful companies residing in the state of Washington. The irony that a city and state with such potential wealth has such a massive, massive problem. Maybe it is true that Americans don’t get irony.

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This was our second visit to the Moorlands Hotel at Haytor. Because we enjoyed our stay so much last time round, we decided to visit again, but this time with our children and partners. As I did a blog not so long ago about our previous visit. I thought it best to let the dogs review the short break away – dedicated to all those dog walkers out there.

Margo, 14 Months, Hampshire

Occupation Dog

General demeanour Sensible, thoughtful, very calm

Pip, 14 Months + 1 Day, Hampshire

Occupation Dog

General demeanour Crazy, weird, obsessive

Margo “ Pip you know I am a dog, you know I can’t talk and especially can’t write a holiday blog. What’s is our human playing at”

Pip “I can’t talk as I am looking for my squeaky pink toy”

Margo “I’m a dog with no worries, who likes to sleep a lot and sniff things. That’s my job, not do a blog ”

Pip “Margo what is pink? ”

Margo “Oh well, if this human wants a blog, then I will start, but it will be brief”

Pip “found it, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, can’t have enough squeaks to pad out a blog”

Margo “We got to our hotel, just before it got dark. This gave us the opportunity to run madly through the nearby moorland. I now remember coming here a few months back and I loved it then. There is so much to explore, especially that pony that tried to kick me in the head with its rear hoof as I sniffed around its back legs. That would have ruined the humans holiday”

Pip “What’s a pony, what’s a pony, what’s a pony, where’s the squeaky ball”

Margo “We had a good nights sleep on the hotel bed, the humans were in the way, but I made it as uncomfortable as I could for them. The next day was our big walk. It started with a hail storm as we left our hotel. We walked through the quarry at Haytor, down the valley crossing Becka Brook and up to the Medieval village, just below Hound Tor. In honour of the Hounds of the Baskervilles we decided to bark and howl in the swirling wind and rain. That woke the spirits up. Then it was back to the hotel for dinner and bed. Our companions looked tired and bushed, humans have no stamina and we were the ones doing all the running.

Pip “I love bed”

Margo “The next day it was a run up to Haytor, followed by a drive back home. Anyway, enough of this, I can’t talk and obviously can’t do a blog – stupid human.”

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The last time I met the actor Ralph Fiennes was on a half empty flight to Belgrade. Now when I say met, I was sat in the row in front of him on the flight out to Belgrade. I was on my brother’s stag do; I think he was filming Coriolanus. The only interaction was when a member of our party asked him for a good place to eat in Belgrade. He duly and politely responded with a recommendation. Now thirteen years later we met again. Now when I say met, I mean I went to see him in a production of Macbeth in London at Dock X. I now consider myself and Ralph as firm friends.

My experience of Shakespeare like all school children in the UK is studying in detail maybe one or two plays whilst at school. My two were A Midsummers Night Dream and Romeo and Juliet. I never studied Macbeth, but like Henry V its historical basis and films have drawn me to it. So here I was sat in a cramped theatre in London’s docklands on an uncomfortable seat watching my now best mate Ralph earn his living. I have seen a few Shakespeare plays at the theatre and on film. My initial reaction at the start of all Shakespeare plays and films is – why am I here. Using a gratuitous Shakespeare line, it is all Greek to me. Then after a while I tune into the story and I sort of see why I have paid out to come and see what many would call high culture. It is still not like going to the cinema and paying out to see a good film. But once upon a time all Shakespeare plays were just that – popular culture that the masses would enjoy.

Our trip to London started at Winchester train station. The last two trips to London we have taken the train. When the train service gets it right, there is no better way to travel to and from London. Unfortunately, on the way up there was a limited amount of carriages. Five carriages had been lost at Bournemouth. How do you lose five carriages? This meant standing all the way from Winchester to Waterloo and being cramped as more people got on. My point is that it just adds to this current feeling in GreaTory Britain, that nothing really seems to work anymore.

After the play we decided to walk back to our hotel. This meant a stop off at The Angel pub. We discovered this pub a few years back whilst doing a leg of the Thames path. For location, it has one of the best vantage points for the city skyline and watching the comings and goings on the Thames. It is off the tourist trail, not by much, but if you want an authentic British pub then this is worth a diversion. Refreshed we then took an amble along the Thames path back to our hotel. The hotel was another find by my wife who stayed there last year. Positioned close to London Bridge, next to the Anchor pub, a Premier Inn. For London, a great position and reasonably priced.

The next day, before we returned home, we decided to visit Greenwich. We first headed to the National Maritime Museum. The last time I went was as a child and my memory was of boats followed by more boats. How times had changed, it is now full of pushchairs, row upon row of pushchairs in the lobby. It was a Sunday morning and it was full of children. I can see why, it is free and very interactive. If I lived nearby and wanted to get the kids out of the house then the maritime museum is the place to go. After the museum we walked up to the observatory. A pleasant stroll and the grounds were full of people, more children and best of all loads of dogs enjoying a Sunday at Greenwich. The sun was out and the whole area was buzzing. The views from up by the observatory show you the majesty of London. It had the look of a film set.

This final paragraph makes for a disjointed blog, but I am writing this at the end of the day, on my 57^th Birthday. It is midweek and a few days since we got back from our one night in London. I have just got home, greeted by the dogs which always makes me smile, bliss. I have just watched a screening of Dune 2 at a virtually empty cinema. The joys of a midweek late showing at a cinema cannot be emphasised too much. No disturbance and the pick of any seat in the house and a stunning film. It has been a good day. It highlights the mantra of living in the moment and enjoying riding the wave. I need to practise it more, not thinking about the past or worrying about the future. Just enjoying good things when they happen. I do have to apologise to Mr Shakespeare though, I hate to admit it, but I enjoyed the Dune 2 experience more than the Macbeth one. The Macbeth experience was a bit different as it involved the whole going to London thing, which I always enjoy. But Mr Villeneuve’s interpretation of Frank Herberts Dune out trumped your Scottish play Will.

Ralph, darling,  you need to see if he can get a part in Dune 3, mate.

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Its looking a lot like Christmas. In the UK that means a storm with some obscure name wreaking havoc for the few days between Christmas and NewYear.. This year a wet and windy storm named Gerrit came to play. Who the hell is Gerrit, never heard of anyone called Gerrit. The meteorological office seems to be going Dutch, as Gerrit was followed by Henk. Gerrit is a Dutch name meaning “brave with a spear” hmm, really. The weather man / woman maybe enjoyed their weekend in Amsterdam a bit too much.

The period after Christmas Day, we again rounded up our children and their partners and whisked them away to a secluded Airbnb. We found one in North Wales in a little village called Grainanrhyd. There was a practical reason as it was near to Liverpool where my wife’s sister and niece are, who came to visit. We spent the day huddled up playing games and watching cheesy Christmas films.

The best place, by far in Grainanrhyd is the Rose and Crown. We went for a late afternoon walk with Storm Gerrit pounding us and there like a vision it appeared before us. The door of the Rose and Crown. I am sure it shone in a biblical way as we entered the hostelry giving welcome shelter from the weather. It had an open fire going and as it had just opened, we were the first to be served. Now for the real miracle of Christmas. I had forced everyone out to walk in these horrible conditions and had promised to buy the first round. There were ten of us and each had a drink. The round came to just over £23. Just take that in for a moment………………………………………………………………………………………………£23. This truly was my magical moment of this Christmas period.

The dogs were particularly good. We had attached a bow tie to Margo’s collar for most of Christmas, which made her look very distinguished. Pip had to wear her coat on walks, as it has been so wet. As a white coated dog she has a tendency to turn a mud colour after a long walk. It did remind me of the town mouse and country mouse stories. We were next door to a farm and as the farms sheepdog scuttled by. I am sure I noticed a look of disdain from the hard-working sheep dog to my rather smart looking dogs. Pip did have a weird phase, she was obsessed with her little squeaky pink toy for most of the Christmas break. That toy has mysteriously disappeared for now.

The only trip out was to Llangolen. The River Dee was a raging torrent at the nearby Horseshoe Falls and the dogs were kept on the leads. We went into the town and found a pub. The dogs soon decided it was their pub and barked at any other dogs or drinkers who dared to come in. Now, cue, lots of dog pictures.

One of my Christmas presents was the game Risk. This brought back good childhood memories of playing board games around a friend’s house. I had never been bought the game, it was my friend Andrew Martin who had the game and we would assemble at his house for all night gaming. No computer games then, just dice, counters and imagination. One for a future blog is that this developed into a worrying Dungeons and Dragons obsession, not nerdy at all, really. He also had a games room – pure luxury in the early eighties. So here I was forty years later sitting down with my son and my daughter’s boyfriend, they had never played the game before. Funnily none of the female guests wanted to play. They “allegedly” had a better offer, a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of the now deceased Queen Mother (minus 3 pieces) to complete. I have the Prince Andrew jigsaw puzzle (He’s very limited, edition) on order for next years trip away. My return to the world of Risk did not go well. For two people who had never played, they well and truly stitched me up and I was supposed to be the past master. My son back stabbed me in North America and my girlfriends boyfriend annihilated me in Asia.

I did look at the last few blogs that I put out over the Christmas period in 2021 and 2022. I do seem to repeat myself. The same themes – terrible weather, bored between Christmas Day and New Year figure highly. I have not changed much in the last two years, still moaning about the same old things. One bit in my December 2021 blog (Richmond to Hampton) was, I thought, an empty promise to myself. On our walk in 2021 we passed through Bushy Park.  I did mention in that blog about a return to Bushy Park to do parkrun. This is the “Home” of parkrun and the first ever parkrun took place here in 2004, with just 13 runners. On New Year’s Day 2024 I made good on the promise to myself. Now, in 2024, there were 1215 fellow runners and walkers at Bushy and over 2000 events worldwide. Parkrun is a very under rated success story that gets very little coverage, especially on the huge benefits it brings to peoples wellbeing, long may it continue.

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One of my earliest memories was being sent on my own to the local bakery in Fareham to buy a jam doughnut. I was of preschool age and could only have been about four years old. How times have changed and how we are influenced by our early years. My love of the jam doughnut and cake generally has never dimmed. The bakery in question is still there (Soothills), coincidently it is opposite the Fareham Conservative Association. As I write this blog someone who has misrepresented some of the people of Fareham and who could be described as having fascist tendencies, sorry I meant conservative, has been in the news recently. The now former Tory home secretary Suella Braverman could be best described and here I use the alternative meaning of the word, as a right doughnut. Cruella is now supposedly jockeying to be the next Tory leader, God help us. In the US you have New York’s village idiot making a comeback and he could return as US president, God help America. This has me scouring the world for safe refuge. Where better than a small island off the coast of Africa, named after a cake.

We were off to Madeira for a short break. I must admit Madeira cake is not up there as one of my favourite’s cakes. If the island had been called Jam Doughnut, I would have been there years ago.  So, I was pleased to find out that a Madeira cake is not really a thing found on Madeira. Its name came from the fact it was supposed to go well with Madeira wine. This is a bit unfair on Madeiran wine, as I found that most other things went far better with the Madeiran wine. Not the plain tasting sponge cake, beloved by grannies across the UK.

Madeira was a surprise; we were only there for three nights. I wish we had booked longer as we only scratched the surface and there was a lot more wine to sample. We were staying in Funchal and ventured into the city on our first night. One thing Funchal is not short of is places to eat and I suppose because of the exploration in the past by the Portuguese, a lot of Indian restaurants were to be found. So, on our first night I had a not so traditional Madeiran plate of Chicken Tikka Masala.

Our first full day was spent exploring. I wanted to visit a garden and we chose The Monte Palace Tropical Gardens. We got there early, it was a Sunday and there were no cruise ships in the port. These facts have more relevance later. The most enjoyable part was driving our hired Fiat 500 up to Monte. I have been on some steep roads, but the Fiat struggled to get out of first gear. They must get through a lot of clutches on the island. I later found out we had driven up part of the route that they run wicker toboggans down. Thankfully on Sundays they do not run the toboggans. The guys who push the wicker baskets down the hill don’t know how lucky they were to not be confronted by a struggling Fiat 500 and a sweaty tourist crunching the gears coming in the opposite direction.

The Monte Gardens were wonderful and gave me a great surprise – they had flamingos. Ever since our visit to the Camargue (See Arles, Provence blog) I have had a love for flamingos. Piggy backing on the back of Peppa, I think Freddy Flamingo could be the next big thing in children’s literature, I can’t be arsed to write the books, but I may offer the opportunity to someone like David Walliams. He likes a children’s book and may need the cash now he has left X factor in disgrace. The gardens were not too crowded and they really were a lovely place to walk through.

We left the Monte Gardens and went for an explore of the island. We went to the Eastern most point. As the road ended we came to the car park which was rammed. People were out walking to Ponta de Sao Lourenco. It is a bit of a hike, so we did the next best thing, found an ice cream van admired the rugged coastline, got back in the car and headed north to Santana. In Santana we stopped for a bite to eat, visited the quaint little thatched dwellings and then headed across the island back to Funchal. We drove through stunning scenery and up steep inclines finally emerging above the clouds. This is what I meant by my earlier statement that we just scratched the surface. I had a glimpse of the interior of Madeira and in the future we intend to return to the island and explore further.

Our last day was a trip by cable car back up to Monte overlooking Funchal. As I woke up that morning I looked out on the port and noticed two cruise ships parked up. We were heading for the toboggan guys, but first came to the first queue of the day, winding around the cable car terminal. We finally made it up to Monte and walked to the toboggans close by to Monte Gardens and I bought my ticket. We then went to join the queue, the queue went on and on and on. Then it went on a bit more. I then put two and two together. The queues were as a result of the two cruise ships dumping thousands of fellow tourists in the vicinity. On and on and on went the queue around the village of Monte. We finally came to the end of the queue. Alright I might be exaggerating a bit, but it was an hour and half wait to be pushed down a steep hill by two guys in a wicker basket for ten minutes. Then they only did half a job leaving us halfway up the hill. After we made it back to Funchal my calves were killing me from walking down the steep inclines.

That afternoon my legs had still not forgiven me and we had foolishly booked a walking tour of Funchal. It started at the Jesuit Church and was conducted by local students, it was very good. But by the end of the day, I could hardly stand. At the end of the tour, it was off to the nearest cake shop for a Portuguese custard tart (Pasteis de nata) and Madeiran wine and more importantly a sit down. That was it for our short break away and the last of my leave for this year. The best I can now look forward to is a wet weekend in Eccles, Greater Manchester. I do love an Eccles cake.

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The last time I ascended the hill to Haytor I came across my first dead body. This was thirty odd years ago and it was not a scene from an Agatha Christie novel. Unfortunately, an oldish guy was walking ahead of us and had a massive heart attack. Thirty years later, it did play on my mind as I trudged this time up to the peak that I was now a similar age and more worryingly of a similar build. Thankfully there were no mishaps and I felt fine. It was a long time ago and I did not have any connection with the deceased. It was someone else’s tragedy, but I still feel sad at the events and the trauma it must have caused to the guys loved ones. I should have started with a warning at the beginning, sorry if you came here to read a happy travel blog.

The reason for this return to Haytor was a four-day mini break. It could best be described as an experiment. We had booked four nights in the Moorland Hotel, situated at the foot of Haytor. It had been recommended as a dog friendly hotel and this is where the experimental bit comes in. It was our first trip away with the dogs – their first holiday. I rarely mention the accommodation we stay in on these blogs, but I can thoroughly recommend any dog owners out there who want a wonderful hotel to stay in to look at the Moorland Hotel. The staff were brilliant with the dogs, the location was ideal. You literally cross the road and you are on the moors of Dartmoor. On my previous visit I was obviously distracted and never really appreciated the magnificent views from the vantage point of Haytor. One way is the sea the other is the moors and miles of open tracks to walk dogs. We did have one day of low cloud and I kept remembering the advice from the movie American Werewolf in London “stay on the road, keep clear of the moors” Never did find the pub the “Slaughtered Lamb” for a nice quiet drink. We did spend a lunchtime in the Warren House Inn, a close second to that one portrayed in the film. It is described as “remote and isolated” by wiki and has a fire that has been burning since 1845.

I was worried that four days in a hotel room with two dogs would have me burning daylight. The time flew by, there was very little time spent in the hotel room apart from sleeping. We walked those dogs through some of the best countryside this country has to offer. My mention of Agatha Christie earlier was deliberate, she was cropping up a lot lately. My wife and I had recently been to a talk by Lucy Worsley on her. Something I did not know, but soon realised when we arrived was that Agatha Christie spent two weeks at the Moorland Hotel in 1916 writing her first Poirot novel “The Mysterious Affair at Styles” An Agatha Christie portrait has pride of place in the hotels reception area. Keeping with the literary theme, across from Haytor there is another Tor called Hound Tor and the location was an inspiration for the Hound of the Baskervilles. Our two hounds are not very scary, they were petrified by the sheep, cows and horses that roam freely.

We did not just stick to Dartmoor, we had a day into Torquay to visit my wifes aunty, on the way we popped into a supermarket to get some flowers for her. Now I am getting closer to retirement and the prospect is starting to occupy my thoughts more and more. I do have worries about retirement. Filling the void that is my working life being one of them. I also have a not so serious pet hate about retired people doing their shopping at weekends and clogging up the aisles and car parks of the local supermarket. Especially when I want to use them and they have all week to visit. To quote two other films Zulu and The Sixth Sense. The local Sainsbury’s in Torquay was full of retired people “thousands of em” all I saw was “old people”. This is my worry about retirement will I replace a working day with pottering around Sainsburys trying to get 3p off a pot of jam. I am sure that all retirees have the best of intentions to travel the world and jump out of aeroplanes strapped to someone who actually enjoys having old people strapped to them. But after the cash is spent or they get infirm, they all end up at their local supermarkets having inane conversations with the trolley boy – there is a reason why he is the trolley boy. It is one I will ponder on for the foreseeable.

We did have a day out to Dartmouth. It did feel like I was driving to the end of the earth to get to the town. Add in two artic lorries meeting at a narrow point on the route (Devon’s Roads – see my North Devon blog) which caused chaos. No wonder it is a bustling seaport and home to the Royal Navy’s Dartmouth College as I am sure it would be quicker to arrive by sea. We did actually leave by using the ferry to cross the Dart. It was my first time to Dartmouth and it was a pleasant surprise, we had an ice cream like you do. It would have been nice to sit down on the many benches that lined the quayside and eat the said ice cream. But we could not find a bench to sit on.  Full of old people and it did not look like any were rushing to go off skydiving. When we took the ferry across the Dart we were heading for Brixham with the intention to stop for a cream tea. My wife informed me that a replica of the Golden Hind is in the harbour. As we approached the harbour looking for parking we passed the Golden Hind in all its splendour. My other not so serious pet hate often mentioned in these blogs is that the west country is full of wannabe pirates. Lo and behold there he was, a bloke dressed as a pirate in a café close to the Golden Hind drinking a latte. Not wanting to meet Long John Silver and reinforce my prejudice against “local characters” dressed as pirates. We drove on by back to our hotel I will leave a visit to Brixham for when I am retired on non-pirate day.

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If you want a full body detox I can suggest the best place in Greece. The method is a bit unconventional and unintentional but if you want to clear your body of all those nasty toxins I have the ideal place. A quay side Taverna in Eretria on the water’s edge and a view to die for (I nearly did) We had booked a cruise for seven days, starting at Athens and ending in Barcelona. Before the cruise though we had booked a couple of nights in a lovely looking resort on “booking.com”, more on that later. Anyway, back to my near death experience. In my long 56 years I have had a few dodgy meals. This one though gets the gold medal. It was full on food poisoning after a meal of Greek salad and Gyros. I will not go into the gory details but after all the liquids and solids decided to leave my body, I was a husk of a man come the morning. I should say the late morning as this bug had legs. In hindsight the proprietor of the Taverna did me a favour. I must be one of the few people who go on a cruise and come back weighing in less.

A lot happened in the two days before we made it to the cruise ship. There are now three things I will never do again in my lifetime. The first is I will never order a Greek salad, the second I will never order and consume Gyros. The third is I will never use the services of booking.com. As mentioned earlier we had used the services of booking.com to book our accommodation for the two days prior to the cruise. Everything seemed fine, payment was taken a few days before arriving. We even had confirmation that it would be okay to arrive late. Well, we did arrive late, after a long day of travel to a resort that was no longer a functioning resort. The gates were chained and locked and the builders or even the bailiffs had been in. It took a while to establish this and it was now getting even later. Here we were confused and homeless in rural Greece. Panic would best explain the situation. I could go into a lot of detail, but “suckers you are on your own” would be a fair description. We did find alternative accommodation; this was done 100% by ourselves and we got lucky. The conclusion from our experience, like I said, I will never be using booking.com again. I would rather have a Greek Salad and Gyros from a dodgy Taverna in Eretria than use that shower.

Now to the bit of our holiday that did run smoothly. We had booked a cruise for seven days, with Princess Cruises, starting at Athens and ending in Barcelona. We drove back from Eretria to Athens. We had intended to spend the day in Delphi before heading for Athens, but my illness scuppered that plan. I wonder now if I should have consulted the oracle of Delphi upon arrival in Greece. Would she have predicted this Greek tragedy and advise – don’t touch the feta and beware the slippery travel agent. I have been to Athens many times and enjoy the cities history. After the food poisoning, I just wanted to stay in bed, but my wife forced me out for an evening walk around the Acropolis, onto Areopagus Hill in my sliders (big mistake) and down to the Plaka. This city never disappoints and it did lift my spirits, or it could have been the electrolytes. The next day we boarded the Enchanted Princess, the gods must have forgiven me and compared to the last two days it was truly enchanting.

Our last Mediterranean cruise was with Princess. They must be doing some good deals in North America and Australia because us European travellers were in the minority. I do find it interesting being with different nationalities, one take from the north American contingent was that they do expect and demand good service. To be fair to Princess, they do deliver. The Itinerary was Santorini, a dreaded sea day, Kotor, Sicily, Naples, another sea day and then Barcelona.

Our first stop was Santorini and my first time to the island. We took the tender to the port, avoiding the queues at the cable car and the donkey trail. Unfortunately I did not see the donkeys, but I spent the day in Santorini’s capital city Fira avoiding their poo. We walked through the warren of lanes to get our photo at “the three bells of Fira” It is hard work trying to get that million-dollar picture, don’t knock those influencers, they are grafters, or should that be grifters. My face just hurt from trying to smile. We could not stay for the sunset as our ship was leaving in the evening and that suited me. Fira was a good stop over and I am sure there is lots of things to do on the islands, but I was now getting the seen that and done that vibe.

Sea day – Aaaarghhhhh

Next stop Kotor. We sailed into the outer bay in the early morning and stopped just off Savina. Then the dreaded announcement. Due to high winds we will not be going through the narrows and onto Kotor. This is where the ship needed a good risk-taking Italian like the captain of the Costa Concordia. But no, we had a pleasant commodore Nick “driving the boat” , just a little bit too windy for cautious Nick. I was sporting a “Nautica” t-shirt that day and did think on giving commodore Nick a few tips, my wife told me it was not a good idea. We stayed off Savina for a few hours and we turned around and skedaddled out of there on our way to Messina. The good news was we would get to Messina earlier than anticipated. Missing Kotor was not that bad as I had spent a week there in the past. It was disappointing that we were not going to sail through the bay as the scenery from land is stunning. I now had to imagine how good it would have been from the cruise ship.

Messina is a city I have never been to. The ship moored in the heart of the city and our balcony overlooked the city and dockside. We did not explore Messina as we had an excursion to Taormina planned. Taormina is a lovely city high up overlooking the Ionian Sea one way and Mount Etna the other. It is full of history and its jewel is the old Greek/Roman theatre. The best part of the trip for me though was the coach drop off point. It is a multistorey car park close to the town. Just like any other multi storey car park the world over. There were a lot of coaches and tours all heading for this one car park at the same time. The plan is to drop off at the car park walk to the lifts and for these to whisk you up to floor 7, close to the old town. Like I said this car park is like any other car park and the lifts were not suited to large tour groups and even larger occupants. What joy to be nestled into the armpits of fellow tourists. Suffice to say we took the stairs on the way back to the coach.

Wonderful Naples, on my first ever visit to Naples I had an intimidating encounter with an untrustworthy looking chap on a moped trying to sell me a video camera. The look I got when I refused to get my wallet out will live with me to my end of days. He must of really practised that utter look of disgust because it really haunts me to this day. Add in a traffic light and windscreen cleaner incident and after that visit I can say Naples was not my favourite place. Many return visits since have changed that view. It has its flaws but there is so much to see, experience and visit in and around Naples. We had sailed into the Bay of Naples at dawn and for me it was a magical experience. Once old commodore Nick had “parked the boat” I went up to the fitness room on the cruise ship to use the treadmills. This is the beauty of cruising, where else can you find a gym on the 17^th floor overlooking the city of Naples and just take in the sights of everyday life in Naples. This was followed by a long breakfast on the veranda at the back of the ship with similar views and beautiful weather. That afternoon we went all roman and back 2000 years, walking the deserted streets of Herculaneum.

Another sea day – Aaaaaarrrgh.

Princess Cruises did keep us entertained throughout the sea days and it was not too bad, really. The food and service was top notch, by the end of the trip my appetite was back with a vengeance. We came into Barcelona early in the morning and we were off the ship early, I had to be dragged away from the buffet. That was it, we were whisked off to the airport and waited for our flight back to the UK. I thought commodore Nick was driving the plane as we came into land at Heathrow, our landing was aborted at the last minute. That got the heart racing. I suppressed the urge to run up and down the aisle with my hands in the air shouting “don’t panic, don’t panic” Thankfully, the reassuring voice of the pilot came over the public address system – just the thermals apparently. I was sweating, I did not think it was that cold, anyway what do I know? – My wife did stop me from going up to the cockpit to give the pilot a few tips.

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In this age of BBC presenters, Huw find themselves front page news. I thought I had better check out the dirt on Andre Rieu whose concert we were off to see in Maastricht. He either has the mother of all super injunctions or he could just be that rare celebrity with no skeletons. A quick google and nothing comes up. Putting aside the dodgy mullet, this violinist could be the genuine article. This was confirmed in some ways by a chance meeting in a Maastricht brasserie. My wife and I were having dinner before the concert and I got talking to a older gentleman who I could only describe as a Rieu fundamentalist. He had been to over one hundred concerts and just by talking to him he was not your typical groupie. He gave the impression that he did not suffer fools lightly and I initially made the cardinal mistake of asking him, a Canadian if he was an American. That aside, I think he forgave me and we got talking. What became clear was the passion the fans have for Mr Rieu as a performer and a person.

The trip was arranged to coincide with my wife’s birthday. I would like to say I arranged it as a special birthday treat, but no, my wife organised everything. I just had to turn up. We drove to Maastricht via the rebranded “Le shuttle,” leaving home on a Thursday night and returning Sunday evening. Once in France we stopped in St Omer for the first night, arriving at our hotel after midnight. This was planned and we had booked a Budget Ibis as we only wanted to sleep somewhere, continuing our journey at a more leisurely pace on the Friday. Now when Ibis put the word “Budget” in the description they are not kidding. Do not get me wrong I am not complaining as the nights stay only cost us £40, but budget means budget. One pillow each the size of a pin cushion and a towel that more resembled a handkerchief, with texture of sandpaper. The hotel did the job, I slept well and we set off nice and early. Albeit slightly damp from using the hard, undersized towel.

We set off through France into Belgium. The main roads are good and are good at getting you from F to B, they can be a bit boring though. We did not have the luxury of time to meander through the backroads enjoying the sights. We did stop at Liege, a new city for me. Belgium is famous for its beer and in the square by the cathedral we sat in a bar emblazoned with that famous Belgium beer Carlsberg. I know I was on a break and the sun was shining but that foreign Danish beer in the home of beer did taste good to me. A real “Ice cold in Alex” moment. We sat there for a while watching the world go by. I always get the impression that Belgium is grittier than most other places. Liege is a more genuine kind of city, especially not as polished as our final destination of Maastricht. We did try that other Belgium delicacy, a waffle and I learnt a new French word – cannelle, meaning cinnamon. It was a simple waffle, no cream or gumph, just flavoured by cinnamon, chewy and delicious.

On the Saturday we made the most of our day in Maastricht. It started with a really enjoyable parkrun in Maastricht (Tapijn). A Birthday present for my wife – not sure my wife enjoyed getting up early and running 5K on her birthday. It was in the university grounds and did include a small petting zoo. It was not my fastest time and I am blaming the beer and waffle for weighing me down. I did not stop to pet the animals, especially the one in the empty cage (It has some hidden and arty meaning). We dashed back to the hotel for breakfast and my wife had the idea to hire bikes to explore Maastricht. Now we had been to Maastricht once before but it was a flying visit and involved a lot of time sitting in the centre of town drinking beer. We hit the road on our bikes and was surprised they were e-bikes, what a revelation. As an adult I have not been a great lover of riding a bike and not a great lover of negotiating around bike riders in the UK. Two things I discovered,  e-bikes are definitely the way forward and the Dutch really do lead the way in urban design, it was a pleasure riding around Maastricht. Then to the main event an evening at the Andre Rieu concert. Now Andre I think knows his demographic and I am not going to criticise anything as there was really nothing to criticise. It was an enjoyable, know all the tunes evening, very entertaining and a great setting.

That was it really. Sunday was a trip back to Calais. A couple of highlights on the way back. One at the delightful service station on the main road through Belgium. I was mugged, not by a bandit but by the owners of the service station, modern day highwaymen. The other was a small diversion we made to an area just south east of Maastricht. Two points of interest just a few metres apart. At a place called Vaalserberg (the Dutch do like a double aa) Here is the highest point in the European part of the Netherlands and a few metres away is where the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany all join up. You can visit three countries by walking around a stone plinth. I am now looking at maps of the world to see where you can visit three countries in the matter of seconds. Right I have found some more dirt on Andre Rieu, he once used the word bitch on an interview with Phillip Scofield on This Morning – way ahead of his time.

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June, 2023

This was not a planned getaway to North Devon more a forced excursion. Things have been slow at work and when asked “do you fancy working in Devon ” I did not have too much of a choice. Still wondering if my employer is trying to tell me something. I was not going to be intimidated – I was going to treat my two, possibly three weeks as a jolly jape to the home of clotted cream. Or is that Cornwall? The first week my employer found some lovely lodgings in a rural pub just outside Tiverton. I will not mention the pub as on the first night, a Monday I was disturbed by a fracas outside as the local youths decided on that great British pastime of beating seven bells out of each other. How I longed for my youth, but what surprised me more was that it happened on a Monday night. Nobody goes out on Mondays. As Elton said at Glasto recently, Saturday night’s alright for fighting, not a Monday. On this basis I thought Devon was going to be lively, how wrong I was.

It was not the first time to North Devon. I had been to this part of the world many times. A long time ago I spent a week in North Devon. I was a first-year student on a building course (late Eighties). My memory of the trip may have been influenced by what I was smoking, because I cannot remember the purpose of the trip. I do remember that it was the first and last time I smoked said aromatic substance. As a young man I made the mistake of mixing vast vats of local cider with Carlsberg special brew, then smoking a particularly large cigarette supplied by some Iranian students who were on our course. I then soon had the inability to move any part of my body until the next morning. Like I said it was the last time and maybe it did me a favour. Its surprising I can remember every last detail of being stuck to the floor, but cannot remember why we had come to this part of North Devon ? I can remember that the week was enjoyable and a drunken adventure away with a group of fellow students. Prior to the college trip I had been here with my parents many times, exploring the bleak moors and valleys of Lorna Doone country. I have always had a soft spot for this part of the UK and North Devon in particular.

The first day of working in Devon I was reminded that modern infrastructure long ago bypassed this part of the world. No levelling up here, they would struggle with the many valleys. The roads I was driving down were suited to a horse and cart, the cart would struggle, even the horse may be challenged. Journey times were likewise doubled. I was now on Devon time. This consisted of driving down very narrow winding roads, constantly having to reverse when meeting other cars or more likely sheep and cattle, every trip taking longer than expected. Devon must have the award for the most patient drivers in the UK. I now have a work injury, a cricked neck from the constant reversing into farmers’ fields or passing bays.

Whilst away, but not in North Devon I made the mistake of doing a favour for my son. He wanted a lift from Castle Cary train station to Glastonbury. He was likewise doing a favour for a friend by working there during the festival. I have never been to the Glastonbury festival and I do not think I will be rushing back. It started going wrong when I entered the car park at Castle Cary train station and there was a particularly bad juggler juggling, waiting for a pick up, something he was doing a lot of. I then got embroiled in “Glasto’s” , as I now like to call its traffic congestion, a one lane traffic jam surrounds this temporary city in the country. I eventually got my son to his destination. This was after a hard shift I had done in Devon. After I dropped my son off, I had decided to push on and stay at home that night. Unfortunately, this proved a bigger mistake. It was the summer solstice and Stonehenge was at gridlock. If it’s not wannabe jugglers with dropsy, it was fickinng druids chanting.

In Devon, I had based myself in and around Tiverton. After the first week away I decided to change hotels and went full Alan Partridge and moved to the Premier Inn in Tiverton, Aha. Give me the Premier I, as I like to call it some credit, it was really quite good. Not so good is Tiverton town centre on an evening, nothing scary just deserted. The town council need to get some jugglers in, I know of a particularly bad one that was not that far away.

The countryside in North Devon is lovely and truly remote. Here I was working down some really deserted lanes. I became very good at leaning on farm gates and spent endless hours watching the natural world pass me by. In fact leaning on a field gate is really entertaining, well more entertaining than Tiverton town centre on a weekday night. One of my favourite parts of Devon and underrated is the Blackdown Hills straddling the Somerset border. It is not as wild as Exmoor, but if you want to set a murder mystery somewhere, this is the place. With quaint villages and spectacular scenery. I did spot a strange sight on a garden wall, two anglepoise lamps. It looked like a Heath Robinson contraption and I wondered why two spotlights were required. That was the thing with this area I came along a lot of homemade inventions and quirky things best suited to the unique environment of Devon life

As I write this I am still working in Devon. It seems I am doing such a good job my employer has piled even more on. The work is enjoyable and interesting, but it is a three hour drive, I will soldier on. Much of the drive down and back is along the A303. As roads go it is one of the best. It passes Stonehenge which always astounds me on how many visitors it attracts. What is mind blowing though, is the surroundings in and around Stonehenge. At this time of year the fields are full of crops the trees are in full leaf. The landscape shimmers in the wind. The wide-open vistas across Salisbury Plain and the English countryside here cannot be bettered. Even better now that all the weirdos and sun worshippers have departed. Right that’s it for now, I’m off to practise my juggling, Glasto 2024 awaits.

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