Following the giants footsteps, Thursday 5 August

Written by Matthew

When visiting the Emerald Isle, one expects a certain amount of the rain that keeps Ireland lush and green. To be honest, there’s been a distinct absence of rain since we arrived – but that all changed today. The rain arrived in bucket-loads, which made our two-hour drive to the Giant’s Causeway fairly soggy.

When I was young I was occasionally allowed to stay overnight at Kathleen and Stuart’s house, they were close friends of my mum and Janet’s – a bit like non-biological aunt and uncle. Kathleen had made my mum’s wedding dress as she was an amazing seamstress. Stuart was into amateur dramatics and so their loft was full of fantastic costumes (heaven for a young gay boy with something of a fancy for musical theater!) I slept in Kathleen and Stuart’s back bedroom and there they had a shelf full of guidebooks to National Trust properties they’d visited. I was fascinated by these National Trust guides and I remember wondering if I would ever visit any of these wonderful places.

Fast forward a few years and here I am the proud owner of a National Trust membership card (courtesy of aunt Janet at Christmas – thank-you very much!) and we’re certainly making the most of our NT membership this week. We’ve already visited Castle Ward (a castle with a split personality, half gothic and half classical) and the lovely Rowallane woodland garden, but the Giant’s Causeway is once place that’s on both of our bucket lists, so rain or no rain, nothing was going to stop us.

Fortunately for us, the rain stopped almost as soon as we arrived at the Giant’s Causeway. The rain may have stopped but there was plenty of moisture around. Zoly’s first task at any pit stop is to empty the tank (and it’s a big tank), so no soon as we’d arrived at the Giant’s Causeway visitor centre, then MR Z’s leg was cocked and the floodgate opened. This reminded us that Zoly has weed on quite a few World Heritage Sites – Bath, Iron-bridge Gorge, Pontcysyllte and now the Giant’s Causeway!

Waiting for Zoly

We followed the longer red trail from the visitor centre along the top of the cliff, then descended the steps to the beach and the causeway.

Apparently there are approximately 40,000 mostly hexagon-shaped columns, but also some heptagon- and pentagon-shaped ones. The rain seemed to have kept the crowds away, as we were able to explore the site with ease. The rock formations are amazing and we were both overwhelmed by their beauty.

At the furthest point of the causeway, a hardy National Trust steward was stood to stop visitors going right to the end of the rocks. That didn’t stop one intrepid tourist (and their dog). ‘Excuse me Sir, no further please’ – said the steward, but it fell on deaf ears (as usual ). The misty eyed tourist, lost in the beauty and magic of the location had a camera phone in hand and nothing was going to stop him getting the perfect Vizsla holiday snap! ‘MIKE!!’ I hollered – ‘He says you can’t go there’. ‘Why not?’ he replied, disgruntled. ‘Because you can’t, people might drown’ I replied. ‘Well that would be their own fault’ he said. I pointed out that the National Trust might have a duty of care for their visitors, but he was not impressed. I think we can all be relieved that a certain Vizsla owner isn’t in charge of health and safety at the University of Bristol. Access restricted or not, he still got some lovely Vizsla shots – probably coming to a Christmas card near you soon!

This far and no further

On the way back to our cottage we made a little detour to Glenoe Falls in a lovely secluded glen near Larne – it’s 30’ or almost 10 meters high.

Can I go in please dad?
Heaven!

Donkeying around, Thursday 5 August

Written by Matthew

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, we have a lovely neighbour here at our holiday cottage – Donkey. He (well I think it’s a he although I haven’t looked too closely) is a very friendly soul, and always trots over to say hello when we drive up or pop outside. I’ve had a brief chat with him, but I’m usually too distracted wrestling Jojo away from Donkey to have any meaningful conversations.

On our return home this evening, Mike went to have a chat with Donkey. Mike’s been very worried about Donkey – all alone in the field in all weathers – so much so that he insisted that I write in the visitors book a suggestion that they find Donkey a permanent companion (I’m sure Jojo would apply for that position). Anyway, as soon as we parked the car Mike went into the cottage to get some apple and carrots then went to have a bit of quality time with Donkey.

Sweet Donkey

Meanwhile, I was getting the dogs out of the car. Both Jojo and Zoly were attached to their leads, but as I took them into the cottage Jojo’s lead slipped from my hand and seizing the moment, she was off – hurtling at high-speed towards Donkey. Donkey didn’t seem much phased by this woofing jabbering bundle of fluff. He’s probably enjoying the attention unaware of her (less than innocent) true intentions!

I’m in panic I quickly took action to make sure Zoly stayed in the cottage and wasn’t tempted to join Jojo in the donkey-baiting. I grabbed the front door to pull it closed. Click. Damn, I’ve locked the cottage door with Zoly inside. I ask Mike if he still has the front door key? Mike says that he put it on the kitchen table when he went in to fetch the carrot and apple for Donkey. We were locked out. We were locked out again – this is the second time this week! But worse than last time, Zoly is inside and probably starting to suffer from separation anxiety already.

Fortunately, Jojo was so transfixed by Donkey thar she was quickly back securely in my hand and led away to give Donkey some peace. As for rescuing Zoly, as luck would have it, Mike had left the front window open, so thanks to his nimble and agile manoeuvres (despite a very sore back) he was in through that window in seconds and we were in again.

Easy does it

Perhaps a second career as a burglar or gymnast in the seniors-Olympics beckons!

All safely gathered in

Kilbroney Park, Rostrevor Forest, Warrenpoint and Derrymore, Wednesday 4 August

Written by Mike

A quiet use-car-less, staying very local to our cottage and exploring the area day today – so lots of walking, some incredible views of Carlingford Lough, eating ice creams (doggies) and sorbet (humans) and a we came across a sobering memorial.

First stop Kilbroney Park near Rostrevor – an enormous area of mountain woodland overlooking Carlingford Lough and the Mourne Mountains. It was a country estate owned by the queen mother’s family – the Bowes-Lyons. Apparently, the princesses Elizabeth and Margaret holidayed here in 1937. Charles Dickens visited, too as well as Seamus Heaney and it’s rumoured to have been the inspiration for C S Lewis’ Narnia. Now it belongs to the local council, so we can all enjoy it.

We walked through the trees to find the Cloughmore Stone – it’s at 1,000 feet (300 m) and it’s a 30-tonne glacial erratic – probably carried in a glacier from what is now Scotland – that was left behind after the glacier melted. The views from the stone were incredible and we spent ages up there.

According to local legend the stone was thrown by a giant called Finn Mac Cool during a fight with another giant. The other giant made Lough Neagh when he picked up a handful of earth to throw at Finn Mac Cool, missed, and landed in the Irish Sea and it became the Isle of Man.

After we’d come down from the mountain, we walked along a lovely path beside Carlingford Lough into Warrenpoint – a pretty town with a big square and at least two ice cream parlours. Hard to resist. When we’d been driving on the road from Newry into Warrenpoint earlier in the week, we’d passed a ruined castle just outside Warrenpoint and we decided to get a closer look. It was a bit of a mistake – the main road wasn’t particularly nice walking and when we arrived at Narrow Point Castle it was closed… and we had to walk back.

Just by the castle a row of wreaths commemorating the Warrenpoint massacre, when 18 British soldiers were killed in an ambush by the IRA in 1979 – the deadliest attack on the British Army during the Troubles.

We went back for the car and went into Newry – we needed to find a printshop because Matthew had forgotten his parkrun barcode – which we’ll need on Saturday morning after we get off the boat. [EDIT: we didn’t need it – parkrun was cancelled ☹]. Just outside Newry was Derrymore Demesne – a lovely 1770s house and landscape owned by the National Trust.

God help us – we have a flag, Tuesday 3 August

Written by Matthew

We have come to Northern Ireland in the centenary year of the partition of Ireland and creation of Northern Ireland in 1921. This wasn’t intentional. As we drove south from Belfast through little towns and villages and at road junctions, we noticed lots of flags flying: the ulster flag, the union jack, orange order flags, pre-partition Ireland flags, the Saltire, ‘no surrender’ flags, Ulster defence flags, even Confederate flags and lots of red, white and blue bunting and we realised what was being commemorated.

Some towns have also erected big arches across their high streets; they usually featured king William III and more Union Jack flags and contemporary references to the Troubles. In Clough, a town nearby, the commemorative arch has a very large banner with ‘RIP Duke of Edinburgh’ along with his picture.

We’ve seen Republic of Ireland flags and green/white/orange painted stripes on walls. And in some places there are no flags at all – and it occurred to us that this in itself is probably significant. In a poll for the Belfast Evening Telegraph 63% of respondents said that flags on lampposts are annoying/very annoying while a significant minority of almost 19% were supportive/very supportive.

There’s an Eddie Izzard routine when he ridicules how the British occupied most of the globe with a flag – and a gun. No matter that the indigenous population had occupied the land for millennium “We have a flag, so it’s British now”.

Flags and arches – and the lack of flags are not the only sign of divisions. There are lots of different (and very well kept) churches – Presbyterian, Congregationalist, Baptist, Church of Ireland, Catholic … and more. Plus we’ve spotted the occasional ‘Orange Hall’. It’s not just church buildings either, we’ve even seen two ‘drive-in gospel meetings’ advertise. Many traffic lights have hand-made signs attached to them urging us to ‘pray for Jesus’, ‘repent’ or ‘prepare to meet our maker’.

It reminds us that behind the nearly 25 years of peace since the Good Friday agreement, the different identities in Northern Ireland are still very important to lots of people here.

Castle Ward, Murlough beach and Newcastle, Monday 2 August

Written by Mike

We are determined to get maximum use out of our national draft cards on our holiday to Norther Ireland this week – and today we visited Castle Ward, an eighteenth century estate and house on Strangford Lough. Castle Ward has been a venue for the Antiques Roadshow – so we’d seen it on TV and remembered Fiona Bruce marvelling at the apparent split-personality architecture oo the house. The house isn’t particularly opulent for a stately home, but it has a unique feature: the front and rear elevations of the house, which was built during the 1760s, are very different styles – reflecting the different tastes of Bernard Ward (Lord Bangor) and his wife, Ann Bligh. The front of the house is classically Palladian – symmetrical with a Greek style pediment and square windows.

The rear of the house is Georgian Gothick Revival, with pointed windows, turrets, battlements and finials.

The different styles are not just external – the rooms inside also have completely different decorations and furniture.

Initially we imagined that the house represented an unusual eighteenth-century compromise in a marriage – after all, at that time men – and rich men in particular would have regarded their wives and houses as their property to more-or-less do as they liked with. So, the fact Ann obviously had some considerable say and impact was remarkable in itself. We imagined that the house design represented an amicable compromise between the couple – but we found out that actually they didn’t get on and Ann Bligh left her husband shortly after the house was completed in 1770.

The grounds at castle Ward are lovely – we had a nice long walk through the farmyard and along the shore of Strangford Lough. The farmyard will be familiar to anyone who’s seen Game of Thrones on tv (not us!), as apparently it was used as the backdrop for the series ‘Winterfell’; the film crew were there for eight weeks. The farmyard was modelled on the older and now derelict Audley Castle, which is still part of the estate.

Next stop was for a walk along the beach at Murlough Nature Reserve – a 6,000 year-old dune system with heathland and woodland surrounded by an estuary, beautiful fine sand and a quiet shallow beach on the Irish Sea. The Mourne Mountains and Newcastle in the distance looked wonderful.

Finally we headed south and into Newcastle – a small seaside resort town a bit like Weston-Super-Mare or Whitley Bay … but with spectacular mountains behind. We found a nice chip shop – next to a very grand-looking Lidl!

My mate, Marmite, Sunday 1 August, 2021

Written by Matthew

Our base for the week is Mary Larkin’s cottage, which is situated overlooking Carlingford Lough outside Rostrevor and a long way up a narrow, winding single-width lane that becomes little more that a rough stone track just before it reaches the cottage.

The view is splendid, we look down the valley towards Carlingford Lough. In front of the cottage there is a resident donkey in the field. Jojo is particularly excited about Donkey, she spends most of the time on her hind legs staring out the window at Donkey. I have introduced Zoly to Donkey, they had a good sniff of each other and were inquisitive, but neither seemed to be much bothered about each other. I don’t think we’ll do the same  with Jojo as I suspect her ‘loving gazes’ at donkey may be more ‘love at first bite’ rather than ‘love at first sight’.

After a little snooze (all four of us fit easily on the super king-sized bed in the cottage) we decided to explore the locality a little. First stop was the ASDA Super Centre in Kilkeel – neither super or much of a centre, think a big Tesco express. As this was Sunday I thought we’d better call in early to avoid getting caught out by any Sunday trading rules and a lack of essentials. Before arriving in Ireland, the UK media has been regularly reporting of food shortages in Ireland due to Brexit/COVID logistic issues. The threat of a ban on meat being allowed into Northern Ireland from the rest of the UK meant we brought our own supply for the dogs. However, if the visit to ASDA Kilkeel was anything to go by, the media reports are a little exaggerated. The shelves were full – and they even has the super-size jars of Marmite, which have been in very short supply in our local ASDA Bedminster.  With my trolley filled I headed to the checkouts. I joined a short queue and  unloaded my shopping onto the conveyor belt. The man in front was having a lengthy chat with the cashier about the well-being of his (very) extended family. Cashier: “So how’s your wee mammie?” Shopper: “She’s good. Eighty-three now”. Cashier: “Never. Is she? Aww bless her” … you get the idea. All very nice, but the cashier wasn’t scanning a thing. Having spent many years in my teens with a part-time job behind a Tesco checkout, I know it is perfectly possible to chat and scan. I was wondering whether I should say something, when suddenly a checkout supervisor hollered: “Ok, you’re good to go”, while waving her arms up and down as if she was at the starting lines of Brands Hatch. What I hadn’t realised was that the Sunday trading laws here are different to England.  Back home six hours Sunday trading is permitted and supermarkets usually open between 10:00 am and 4:00 pm, here, only five hour trading are permitted and it usually takes place between 1:00 – 6:00 pm (with browsing allowed a little early). Once the starting shot had been fired, everything was quickly scanned and we were on our way – super-sized Marmite in hand (which is going to prove to be very handy).

All checked out, the next stop was Silent Valley Country Park, a reservoir about ten minutes drive from Kilkeel with lots of good dog walking possibilities. Silent Valley was very popular, lots of families with picnics or heading for tea in the cafe. The reservoir was built between 1923 and 1933 to supply Belfast. There were interpretation boards telling the history of the site and how it was constructed (apparently all the poorly paid workers tolling 14 hour days to excavate the granite rock were as happy as Larry – I suspect not, and there was a plaque commemorating the nine men who were killed during the construction). We made our way towards the reservoir with the intention of doing a long walk to the second dam further along the valley. As we set off, nature took its course and Zoly started to do his first number two of the day. I prepared my poo bag as Mike and Jojo wandered ahead. As I prepared to scoop my eye was drawn to a small group of people ahead who were stood on the spot and waving their arms and hands furiously around their heads. Once Zoly had done his business (and I’d done the obligatory scoop) he began pulling to catch up with Mike and Jojo. Instead of his usual gallop, Zoly was doing some peculiar squat trot, while trying to nibble his bum as he moved – my initial though was that he needed to go again, but if he wanted to do that why didn’t he just stop and go? I then noticed Mike was also swatting his hands around his head and then I felt it – there were midges everywhere – and we were their prey! Poor Zoly was getting bitten on his bum; while me, Mike and any other human with flesh on display were also prime targets. A change of plan was needed… and quick.

We made a hasty retreat from our waterside walk and instead took the ‘mountainside trail’ which offered great views of the water and the Mourne Mountains – and a lot fewer midges. I had heard that Scottish lochs in August were to be avoided due to midge swarms, but I’d not heard the same of Northern Ireland, but now I know. I think that it is said that midges apparently don’t like the taste of Marmite in human blood – so it’s a high intake of ‘my mate Marmite’ for me for the rest of the holiday to keep the pesky blighters (or as we overheard one of the locals put it: ‘the wee bastards’) at bay!

Lift off – the red dog has landed, Saturday 31 July

Written by Matthew

Having just return from a week’s holiday in the Cotswolds with his family, Matthew can hardly say that he’s been deprived of a vacation – but a holiday doesn’t really feel like a holiday unless we’ve really travelled somewhere. The second week of Matthew’s two-week break certainly involves travel – as we’re visiting Northern Ireland for the first time. It all starts with a long drive from Bristol to Birkenhead (via a nice National Trust property called Shugborough Hall where we can walk (and empty) Jojo and Zoly; then the real excitement happens when we depart land.

Shugborough Hall, Staffordshire

There’s nothing quite like going on a ferry to make us feel like we’re having a holiday. After a year of Covid-related travel restrictions, we’ve not left these shores by boat or plane for quite some time. To get to Ireland we sailed overnight from Birkenhead to Belfast on a beautiful Stena Line ferry. We arrived at the docks in plenty of time for check in – with a brief detour to Tesco for supper supplies. Given we’re not actually leaving the UK, there were no custom checks and we were through pretty swiftly and directed to join a queue of cars to wait embarkation at the very end of lane 9. The views over to the Liverpool waterfront were wonderful.

Unfortunately, the end of lane 9 was very close to the big passenger terminal building and shortly after we’d parked the double decker bus that takes foot passengers onto the ferry pulled up right next to our car. The arrival of the bus caused most of the foot passengers who’d been waiting inside the terminal waiting room to rush towards the bus. This was in spite of them being told that he bus wasn’t  boarding until 9:00. So much was the eagerness to get on that bus that the foot passengers were clearly not going back into the lounge, but instead formed a disorderly huddle next to the bus and – being the last in line – around our car.

The unexpected crowd left us with something of a dilemma, because in the boot of the car were two dogs – who desperately needed to be emptied before we all boarded the ferry. Getting the dogs out of the car and attached to a lead is a bit stressful at the best of times. Jojo will generally just sit in the boot and have a look about at where she is before jumping out – which gives us plenty of time to attach a lead. Zoly, of course, is a different matter. Poor Zoly is a very nervous traveller, so as soon as the back of the car is opened he jumps out as quickly as he can. Given that Zoly belongs to the second-fastest dog breed in the world, he jumps out of the car pretty fast! If you know the direction he’s likely to leap, then it’s possible to be prepared to grab him mid-flight. However, to stop the dogs seeing (and woofing at) passers-by we cover the car’s rear windows. It’s a great solution to reduce woofing, but the downside is that from the outside we can’t see which direction Zoly is sat poised to launch himself out at the first opportunity. Preparing to release the dogs therefore requires both of us, with leads in hand, limbering up like a couple of goal keepers – ready to try and save Zoly!

We couldn’t wait with Jojo and Zoly in the back of the car indefinitely, notwithstanding that there were now a crowd of ferry foot passengers all around us. So we just  opened the boot and out Zoly jumped – straight at a group of youngsters! Screams and squeals ensued as the kids scattered in all directions. Fortunately,  my eye-hand co-ordination is pretty good, so Zoly was grabbed and attached to a lead before anything untoward happened. As we headed away to a quieter spot though, I overheard an Irish women’s laughing and saying to her friend: “Did you see wee Shannon’s face? She nearly shat her pants when that dog landed”. So there we have it, Zoly has made an impression on the Irish before he’s even arrived in Northern Ireland!

Once on board, Zoly and Jojo shared a kennel – Mike hated leaving them there… but the crossing was smooth and we had a good night’s sleep in our cabin (the last dog-free night for the rest of the week). The next morning the dogs were very happy to see us and we set off from Belfast to Mary Larkin’s cottage, overlooking Carligford Lough on the border between Northern Ireland and Ireland.

Dawn over Belfast docks

The roads in Belfast were quiet at 6:30 in the morning, we had wonderful views of Samson and Goliath – the huge twin bright yellow gantry cranes at the Harland and Wolff shipyards (the yard that build the Titanic).We’re hoping to have a day in Belfast later in the week, so Mike’s very excited about visiting the Titanic Museum.

"Samson" and "Goliath", Belfast (7)
Samson and Goliath

Driving south through Belfast towards the M1 at Broadway Roundabout we saw the ‘Rise’ peace sculpture that was installed in 2011. Matthew said he’d read that it has been called the “the Balls on the Falls”, “the Testes on the Westes” and “the Westicles” – this, of course, made us both giggle!

A grand day out

Weekend mini-breaks don’t usually warrant a day excursion. That’s probably the case with Lisbon as there’s more than enough to fill a weekend, but several friends had recommended that we should visit Sintra, a hillside town about 40 minutes from Lisbon. With the added bonus that our Lisbon tourist cards gave us free train travel to Sintra, we decided that Monday (when many museums in Lisbon are closed) would be a good day to visit.

From Sintra station it’s a short walk to the town centre – just follow the crowds! Sinatra’s popularity means there are a lot of tourists. In mid-March the numbers were just about bearable, but I imagine in mid-summer it would be heaving. Our first stop was the National Palace, situated right in the heart of the town. It has two distinctive white chimneys which make it easy to spot.

It is the best-preserved medieval royal residence in Portugal, being inhabited more or less continuously from at least the early 15th century to the late 19th century. Compared to many palaces, it is actually quite domestic in scale. The rooms are not enormous and the decoration is, on the whole, quite restrained. The highlight for us were the stunning Moorish tiles and some interesting ceiling paintings. The latter are quite quirky and often explain the name of the room, there’s the swan room, the magpie room, the galleon room and the crown room – each with corresponding ceiling decoration. I might try this at home, we could have the dog slobber room, the crack room (several of these) and the cobweb room.

After the National Palace we sought advice from the tourist office on a walking route to the Moorish Castle. Although there are frequent bus transfers between the palaces (not to mention tuk-tuks, electric scooters, mini vans, taxis etc which will take you for an inflated price) we decided to walk. With map and directions in hand we set off for an anticipated climb up the hill through the wood. What we weren’t expecting was that more than half the walk was set out as a delightful garden with winding paths, terraces, follys, pools, rills, pergolas and lots of wonderful plants. It was odd to see spring flowering hellebores, primrose and cyclamen alongside plants we’d expect to see flowering in mid-summer. Arum lillys, agapanthus and acanthus were all in flower. This sheltered Portuguese garden clearly doesn’t get much cold and frost.

When we reached the Moorish Castle were very pleased we’d walked. The busses were heaving with people. It didn’t look like a pleasant way to travel – I’d definitely recommend the path if you can manage a brisk climb. The castle was wonderful. Perched high on the hill the views extended far and wide, even though the cloud had started to form you could still see the sea – one of the reasons the Moors chose this spot. Once inside you can walk around the battlements (not for those without a head for heights) and peer down on Sintra, up to the Pena Palace and the many other palaces dotted about on top of almost every hill. There is also a wonderfully preserved underground cistern that provided an essential water source for the castle.

Our final destination was a short ten minute walk – the Pena Palace. Originally a monastery, it was acquired and rebuilt in highly romanticism style for King Fernandinho II. It is rather bonkers with a mash-up of Moorish, Gothic, Classical and Romantic styles. Not somewhere that would be easy to live in, but definitely worth going to see. For me, the highlight was the park and gardens. Arranged on the steep hillside below the castle, wooded walks, fern filled valleys, rills and streams, and several follys and glassshouses were a joy to discover. Fortunately they also lead down through the ‘valley of the lakes’ to a back entrance that joined back up with the trail back down to Sintra.

The walk down was considerably quicker and got us to the station in perfect time for our return train to Lisbon. Two palaces and a castle was quite a lot in a day – even for two queens – but well worth the effort. These two queens certainly slept well in their beds!

Style with a tile

If there’s one thing Lisbon does with aplomb it is ceramic tiles. Wherever you go you will see them adorning floors, walls, benches, metro stations etc. The tile or Azulejos as they are known date as far back as the 13th century, when the Moors invaded the land that now belongs to Spain and Portugal, but they secured their foothold in Portuguese culture between the 16th and 17th centuries. The word azulejo stems from Arabic roots, meaning ‘small polished stone’. Originally they were fairly simple structures cut into geometric shapes in neutral tones.

A great place to trace the origins of the tile and to trace their history is the Museu Nacional do Azulejo (the national museum of the tile). Set is a former monastery the collection is displayed in date order dating from the Moors right up to the present day with some contemporary examples of tiles. It’s surprising just how contemporary the oldest tiles seem with their sharp geometric patterns and bold colours compared to the more classical C16 and C17 versions.

You leave the museum feeling inspired to rush home and tiles something. Given the tiles other wonderful quality – their ease to clean – it’s quite tempting to go home and tile the house. It would make removing Zoly’s slobber from the walls so much easier!

We have lift off

Being built on several hills, there are no shortage of lovely views and vantage points in Lisbon. To reach many of them involves serious climbing up steep hills, but some have very welcome trams, funicular railways or escalators to take the strain. Just round the corner from our hotel is one very unusual example. The Elevator Santa Justa is an ornate gothic iron lift and bridge that carries you up 148ft (45m) to the Convent do Carmo, (a monastery destroyed in the 1755 earthquake on which re-construction was never completed).

On top of the Iron lift is a viewing platform which has become a popular tourist spot. We’d walked past the elevator several times over the past few days but long queues had put us off. I know we’re British but queuing for the lift was even beyond us, especially when the adjacent H&M store has entrances on the ground and 3rd floor which allow you to pretty much climb the same height on their escalators. However after dinner in a lovely vegan buffet (our second visit) we though the crowds would be quieter if we walked over to the top of the elevator.

Sure enough, no queue and being at the top meant only a short climb up a metal spiral staircase to the viewing platform on top. Unfortunately the absence of much metal work between Michael and a very long drop down turned him a very queasy colour and led him to freeze two thirds the way up the stairs. As it was a one way staircase I had to coax him up the final few stairs. Worse was to come. The views from the top were lovely, but alas not if the only thing you can see if the 3ft high guard rail around the edge. I’m guessing Portuguese people were a lot shorter in 1902 as by today’s standards the guard rail around the edge of the viewing-platform was very low. Michael stood frozen in the very centre of the platform. Bless him, he managed about 20 seconds before we had to defend. I went first down the descending spiral staircase with strict instructions to Mike to ‘look at me, don’t look down’.

Thankfully it was only one flight to the elevator car and he felt much more secure in that. Feet back firmly on the ground and I was informed that we ‘wouldn’t be doing that again’ and in a very strange turn of events, that Michael would be ‘going via H&M next time’ – a phrase I never thought I’d hear uttered from his lips!

Gurt Lush

For those more familiar with our blog, you may have noticed the absence of the more descriptive and precise accounts of our travels. One hastens to use the word ‘long’ but there is usually a more thorough account of our travels alongside my more ‘magazine-style ‘ updates. Alas the author of the full-length version is somewhat otherwise distracted. It wouldn’t be a proper holiday if Michael didn’t have a load of student essays to mark, so each day he has set himself a target to wail, gnash teeth and cry (otherwise know as marking). While he does this I have to find things to distract myself with.

On Sunday I took the metro to Parque stop to visit the Parque Eduardo VII. This is the largest park in central Lisbon and strangely isn’t named after some old Portuguese king but an old English one. When Edward VII visited Lisbon in 1902 they renamed the park in his honour. It was originally called Parque da Liberdade (Liberty Park), as staunch republican we think that’s a much better name (cue tutting royalist aunt).

The park is set out on a steady slope that rises north of the Avenida da Liberdade and the Marquis of Pombal Square in the centre of the city. A large lawn an low hedge maze cuts through the centre of the park running up to the monument and fountain marking the 25 April revolution. There are numerous sculptures, lots of trees which must provide much needed shade in the heat if summer, tennis courts and a children’s play park.

The real gem lies tucked away in the north west corner of the park, something you’d almost miss if you didn’t know was there. In the site of an old quarry is the Estufa Fria De Lisbon. This large greenhouse – well to be precise two modest greenhouses and a huge shade house – contains a stunning collection of tropical, Mediterranean and arid planting. Pools, streams and paths meander through the lush planting taking you on a horticultural journey through the worlds warmer climbs.

In the UK outside of the warmer south-easterly parts of the country we tend to see this kind of tropical planting confined to containers as domestic houseplant. Here there are whole walls of what we commonly know as cheese plants (so named for its holy leaves) reached up the wall to a height of at least 15 meters and Clivia plants with their orange tubular flowers in giant clumps 2 meters wide (mine at home has about ten leaves). Banana plants and palms touch the wooden slated roof and pink, purple and yellow flowers and foliage put on their best show to compete for your attention. As we’d say back in Bristol, this place is ‘Gurt Lush’.

This green paradise really set my heart a flutter and excited at the thought that back home spring is just around the corner. Even better than that, in less than a week Gardeners’ World will be back on our screens every Friday night – the return of Monty Don is surely a sign that beckons the start of spring

Fun in the sun

The last week of February 2019 has rather alarmingly smashed all uk records for high temperatures – no doubt a worrying consequence of climate change. However when we left Bristol the grey had returned and storm Freya was looming out in the Atlantic. Arriving in Lisbon to warm spring spring sunshine (21C) was just the ticket. On Saturday our first full day we took advantage of the lovely weather to take a walk east along the river Tagus towards Belém.

Much like Bristol, Lisbon’s old industrial waterfront has gradually been cleaned up and become a new leisure destination for the city. Cafes, bars and clubs replace warehouses and wharfs with families taking a stroll and tourists on foot, bike, roller blades and electric scooters replacing dock workers unloading cargo. The riverside walkway and cycle path runs for miles out to Belém and beyond. Along its path are a few cultural delights to please the passers by.

First is the Ponte 25 de Abril, originally opened in 1966 it was named the Salazar Bridge after Portugals military dictator, it was appropriately renamed in memory of the ‘carnation revolution’ that returned Portugal to civilian rule. In 1999 the bridge was strengthened and a second lower train deck was added. I know a motorway bridge isn’t your conventional tourist attraction but this one is pretty impressive as it soars high over your head with the traffic making a distinctive clatter as it passes over the metal carriageway. On the opposite side of the river the bridge is watched over by the statue of Christ the King.

Further long you come to the MAAT (Museum of Art, Architecture and Technology. A swooping white tile clad ‘space ship meets sea creature’ style building sits alongside a former power station. Both buildings now host exhibitions of contemporary art and design. The current offerings include a jaw-dropping display in the main oval exhibition gallery highlighting the problem of plastic waste. A ship sinking in a sea of plastic detritus – both suspended in mid air allowing you to view from above and walk below. Alongside this a ‘contemporary art installation’ of cardboard boxes and coloured paint – or as Michael put it ‘a load of shit’. An exhibition on robots and artificial intelligence and how they are taking over our lives, slightly chilling. A replica of ‘Little Boy’ the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima on 6 August 1945 and last but not least a wonderful installation in the old turbine hall that tells the story of the power plant, allowing you to walk through the old boiler and visualise the (grim) working conditions of poor sods who had to feed this fiery beast.

Our final destination on this perambulation was the delightful Torre de Belém, a 16th Century fortified tower built as part of the defence system to guard the Tagus river. The stone tower far exceeds its primary purpose as its solid stone battlements are adorned with the most beautiful decorative stonework. Pepper-pot turrets, candy twirl volume and delicate fret work balustrades adorn the tower. In the warm late afternoon sun, with the light shimmering on the blue waters of the Tagus, the tower was enchanting. It was a perfect way to end our stroll before we heading back to the centre on the tram – but not before grabbing a bag of roasted chestnuts (a traditional Portuguese winter street-food snack) to nibble on.

Blogging on again

It’s been quite a while since we holiday blogged. The addition to our family of first four legs, then another four somewhat cut short our long international cycle rides. First to arrive was Zoly our smooth haired Hungarian Vizsla, he was just 8 weeks old when he came to live with us (and stole our hearts) in late 2013. 

Jump forward four years and we decided to adopt Jojo a wire haired Vizsla. She’d had quite a life by the time she came to us – she’d been found on the street in Hungary with a nasty broken leg after what was believed to have been a hit and run car incident. She went through months of surgery and recovery all paid for by the amazing charity Vizsla Mentés before she was rehomed in the UK.

Unfortunately things didn’t work out for her in her new home so she was back with foster carers which, is when we met her and fell in love with her fury joy for life. When she came to live with us in January 2017 she was still only using three legs, but after two years of regular running to help rehabilitate her, this super dog is now powering on all four paws. 

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Zoly and Jojo make our family complete, but alas despite some attempts with a bike trailer (filled with lots of chicken) Zoly made it very clear he preferred to keep his paws firmly on the ground. So our dreams of cycling holidays with dogs happily watching the world pass by from the comfort of their bike trailers turned out to be just that, a dream. So instead of two wheel adventures we’ve discovered the joys of dog friendly campsites, and with the help of our wonderful dog walker/sitter Jake, re-kindled our mini-break trips to European cities. Which brings us neatly to Lisbon, where we’ve come to escape the grey and drizzle of early March in the UK.

As I’m sure you know Lisbon (or Lisboa as the locals say) is the capital of Portugal. As capital cities go, this one has got to be one of the most chilled out there is, it has a distinctly ‘shabby-chic’ feel about it, perfect for a chilled out weekend break. And for those of you who love their Eurovision facts (that’d be me then!) last year Lisbon hosted the 63rd Eurovision Song Contest following the countrie’s first ever win. Singer/songwriter Salvador Sobral won the 2017 edition in Kyiv with his song Amar Pelos Dois. Although Portugal had never won the contest before, it does have one rather unique Eurovision claim to fame. In 1974 Portugal’s entry “E depois do adeus” was used as the first of the two signals to launch the Carnation Revolution. So there you have it, Eurovision is revolutionary – fact.

Back on track

If you’ve not been on an overnight Stena Line ferry, you won’t have experienced the early morning wake-up call. It’s a bit surreal! At 5.30am the constant hum of the engine is interrupted by the playing of a whistling cover-version of the late-80s Bobby McFerrin hit: ‘Don’t worry, be happy’. Then announcements in Dutch and English let you know that breakfast is being served. After not much sleep it’s all a bit disorienting.

After breakfast it was time to rescue Zoly from the kennel. Mike took in his breakfast and when I arrive Zoly was spinning with excitement with his tail wagging at super-speed. He was clearly thrilled to be reunited with his dads. So breakfast didn’t get much of a sniff. Our arrival also caused a mass chorus of barking from the other dogs, which wasn’t helping to get Zoly to settle down to eat his breakfast either.

The foot passenger gangway at Harwich is being replaced, so we had to disembark on a clapped out old bus. We wondered why a new gangway wasn’t put in place before the old one was taken out – clearly another demonstration of the excellent British welcome. Another gem was the large tourist poster in the custom hall selling the delights of visiting Essex all ‘…in under an hour!’, who knew it would take so long?

Essex needs to change its ad agency

As usual these days, the customs officer hesitated somewhat about letting us cross the border back in to the UK – several times she very carefully examined Mike’s passport picture, then looked at his face then back at the passport – even holding it up to check the picture alongside Mike’s face. Losing patience, Mike explained that he’d lost lots of weight and that he went running with our dog. This seemed to work and we were allowed in.

The train journey from Harwich to London was uneventful – Zoly mostly snoozed (mostly on our laps). We walked from Liverpool Street over Tower Bridge and along the south bank of the Thames to Westminster. It was a beautiful morning and we wondered who will occupy City Hall next week – obviously we’re hoping it will be Sadiq Khan.

We had to catch the Underground at Westminster to get our train to Bristol from Paddington (we didn’t but that’s another story – but we did spot Dennis Skinner MP waiting on the platform). As the train arrived at Sloan Square the driver announced “This station has no working escalators, so anyone who cannot go upstairs should remain on this train until the next station: High Street Kensington”. There was a pause. Then the driver said: “Actually that isn’t going to work as there are no escalators at High Street Kensington either. Hmmm, you could cross over at High Street Kensington and get the train back again – but that means going up stairs too. I’m afraid you’re going to have to go up stairs”. These are the sort of announcements we’ve been missing in Holland. It felt good to be home!

Chip and pinch

I won’t be the only one watching my weight after this trip!

We’re on the ship and heading home as I write this. The train ride from Amsterdam went smoothly once Zoly had settled. I put his blanket on a seat and he dozed with his head on my lap and my arms wrapped around him. The train was quite full and the sight of a (large) snoozing dog caused much amusement. I couldn’t quite translate what they were saying in Dutch, but I suspect it was something along the lines of ‘what a big baby’ – the emphasis on big! Thankfully the journey was only just over an hour, so the circulation in my legs just about held up under the weight of Zoly.

Mike was wishing he’d paid a visit to the little boy’s room at Amsterdam station. An hour’s train journey was pushing his bladder to the limit and one misplaced paw would have been like the dykes bursting. As soon as we reached Hook van Holland Mike rushed off in one direction to use the facilities and I went the other way with Zoly to find the nearest bush. Once the boys had had their comfort breaks we made our way to check in.
The terminal building was pretty quiet – we guessed that not so many people catch the Monday evening ferry. As we wandered towards the check-in desk we were intercepted by a friendly Dutch women. It turned out she was the check in supervisor and had the job of checking in the dogs. She took Zoly’s pet passport and checked that he was who his passport said he was. She returned shortly afterwards with her scanning device to verify Zoly’s chip and when it bleeped he looked a little surprised! I did wonder if there is a reject bleep and whether people actually try and smuggle dogs through with false passports or even try to bring dogs in disguise through.

We took Zoly to the kennel and three of his room mates were already bedded down: a lovely golden Labrador who seemed very content. Next to the Labrador a collie and opposite these two was an Alsatian who was barking furiously. Zoly isn’t very comfortable with Alsatians and this wasn’t helping to settle Mike’s anxieties. “What if he barks all night?” “He won’t” I replied – trying to be reassuring. “How on earth do you know?” said Mike. This is the standard response I expect from Mike to most of my statements. This is what I got for marrying an academic – they always expect evidence-based answers to their questions. Zoly joined in with a bit of ‘twilight barking’ of his own and I’m grateful that Kennel TV (which was tuned in as soon as we found our cabin) doesn’t have sound.
To calm Mike a little, we went for a bowl of chips in the cafeteria. Comfort eating seemed to settle Mike a little. The trouble is that ‘moment on the lips’ will inevitably turn into comments about those chips ending up on my hips! After all the naughty holiday treats we’ve been tucking into, there will be more than an inch to pinch before long. I resolve that the bad eating stops here (well after we’ve finished off the marzipan chocolate bar).

Into the woods

The gardens at Keukenhof were an expected delight, but the unexpected pleasure of this trip has been the Keukenhof Forrest. Located just over the road from the gardens (but totally unconnected) the forest is a beautiful tranquil beech woodland with several well marked trails.
We walked Zoly in the Forrest every day of our trip here. Although the signs says ‘dogs on leads’ we followed the local dog owners and let Zoly off to roam free, he loved it. The sandy soil meant that there wasn’t a lot of woodland plants, just lots of leaf matter – perfect for sniffing and zooming in, sending leaves flying in all directions.

Where’s Zoly? A whole wood to himself

On each of our visits we barely saw more than a couple of other people in the wood, it felt like it was Zoly’s private playground and he loved it. Sticks were thrown, holes were dug and plenty of marks were left.
The Forrest was also a great haven for wildlife, we saw rabbits and lots birds. There was a very active woodpecker pecking away but the most impressive resident was the stork who had made its nest high in the canopy and was sat guarding its content, hoping for a special delivery very soon.

Special delivery coming soon

Zoly’s favourite part of the wood was the hollow where the soil gave way to pure sand. It was a bit like s beach in the middle of the Forrest. Zoly loves the feel of sand under his paws so as soon as he reached the sound he went crazy, leaping, bounding and digging. It’s a joy to watch him enjoy such simple pleasures. Maybe I need to get him his own sandpit at home so it can be like viz-vacation every day!

From tulips to Amsterdam

Today was an odd day. We split it between Lisse and Amsterdam. We’d never been to Amsterdam together and since the first monument to the gay victims of the Holocaust is in Amsterdam – near to Ann Franks’ house – it felt like a good reason to go and see it. We could also take the train from Amsterdam straight back to Shiedam, where we can change for Hoek van Holland and on to the overnight ferry. We weren’t sure whether it would be possible to exercise Zoly very much in Amsterdam so Matthew suggested visiting the botanical gardens in Lisse.

The fire alarm went off at the hotel at about 6:00am (a false alarm, but everyone was out in the street in their nightwear), so we were up and about quite early. We wandered around Lisse and it took a while to find the gardens – it seemed to be hidden out beyond the suburbs and when we eventually found them on the outskirts of town, they were closed! Still, we did happen upon a rather nice thatched windmill.


As we weren’t in a hurry we had plenty of time for one last circuit of Keukenhof forest before getting the bus the Haarlem (a beautiful city – we must go back to explore) and then the short train ride to Amsterdam.


Walking through the narrow streets near Amsterdam station was a bit nerve-wracking and a a little unpleasant with Zoly because the streets were so crowded and also because so many people were smoking (and not all of them tobacco, this being Amsterdam). It’s curious how quickly we’ve become used to smoke-free public spaces in the UK.

On our way to the homomonument my sister Lisa called – she’d finished the Milton Keynes marathon – only her second – in a London marathon good for age qualifying time of 3:48:33. This despite the fact that she lost a few minutes after tripping over a tree root and falling at about 14 miles in. I’m so proud of her – and hopefully this means that both she and me will be running in London next year. Can’t wait!

The monument was good to visit – I worried a bit that people were sitting on it and picnicking, perhaps without realising what it was or its significance. It’s a pink granite triangle that steps down and juts out into the canal. But maybe it’s fitting that it’s enjoyed as well as being serious.


The Olympic stadium was lovely, but also closed! We did a quick circuit and then there was time to visit Vondelpark – built in 1865 and named after a 17th-century playwright and poet. The park is fantastic – long and narrow, with hundreds of runners and cyclists. It was lovely to walk through with Zoly off his lead after the streets of Amsterdam. There were lots of other dogs to meet and greet, lakes and fountains, an outdoor gym, open air theatre and lovely little cafés all over. Zoly had been so good today that we treated him to an ice cream while we had a picnic and wrote postcards.


We’d done quite a bit of walking around today by now, so we took a tram back to Centraal Station for the train back to Hoek van Holland. Zoly and Matthew were both very tired.

Keukenhof gardens – part two

Keukenhof gardens were becoming very crowded yesterday morning so we left to take Zoly for a run in the forest. He’d been so good and well-behaved in the garden, it was lovely to see him running around getting excited with sticks and smells. After our walk we returned to our hotel for lunch and then a snooze – well for Mike and Zoly at least. I had a few matters to attend to on email. Once that was done I left the sleeping beauties to it and walked round the corner to visit the Black Tulip Museum in the centre of Lisse.

Who knew there were so many different kinds of hyacinth bulb vases?

The museum is not very large, but it does tell the story of the tulip and has a lovely collection of botanical drawings and prints of spring bulbs. There was also a film about the discovery and spread of the tulip bulb, some ceramic tulip holders and a rather nice collection of glass hyacinth bulb holders. It was a pleasant enough place to while away a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon.

Some rather pretty tulip art

After the museum I collected Mike and Zoly so that we could go back to the gardens. It was about 5.30pm and we hoped that Keukenhof would be starting to quiet down. It was still very busy, but the crowds were mostly drifting towards the exits. It definitely seemed like we were moving against the tide when thousands of people were heading in the opposite direction to us as we wandered back into the gardens. Zoly was enjoying his return visit back to the gardens very much – he spent lots of time Hoovering up the left-over bits of waffle, ice cream, strawberries and pastries dropped by the departing hoards.

Daffodils glowing in the evening sunshine
Seeing Keukenhof in a whole different light

We had definitely made the right decision to return to the gardens later; not just because they were quieter, but also because the evening light made the flowers and fountains look so lovely. The sun hanging lower in the sky created the most beautiful backlit effect on many of the flowers. Long shadows were cast on the pathways and lawns and the warmth of the spring sunshine helped release incredible scents from the hyacinths and narcissi – the whole experience was wonderfully intoxicating.

An alternative kind of bedding

With the crowds thinning we were able to explore the smaller demonstration gardens that we had avoided earlier in the day. The ‘inspiration gardens’ were more contemporary and intended to show off flowers in a more modern setting. I think it would be fair to say that Mike is not a great fan of the more ‘conceptual’ garden. The sight of bulbs growing out of old metal bed frames, or plastic Miffy the rabbits or bits of smashed up Delft is just the sort of thing to send him into his Catherine Tate ‘Nan’ character – “What a load of old sh*t!”. Fortunately, the conceptual gardens were fairly limited and so I was soon able to distract Mike’s attention with something much more to his liking: some big fountains that changed and danced in the evening light.

Mike loves a good fountain 

The whole of Keukenhoff is landscaped with beautiful water features – rills, canals and gurgling streams then huge jetting fountains and waterfalls. Nothing is ever far from the sound of water, which is always a lovely addition to any garden. However, for men of a certain age, this abundance of flowing water also has its downsides! At least in Keukenhoff you’re never far from a toilet either! Meanwhile, Zoly seemed perfectly happy leaving his mark on every corner, every bed of tulips and daffodils and any tree that he could get near. It’s fortunate that the Netherlands has such an extensive flood defenses and drains.

Man (and dog) afloat

Mike was determined to get Zoly onto the stepping-stones that crossed part of the lake, (they were actually made of wood, but that doesn’t have the same ring). I’m not entirely sure what Zoly thought I of this, but he seemed happy enough to pose for photos mid way. He was distracted by a passing duck, so a tight grip on the lead was required – although a shot of Mike going head first into the lake following Zoly with a duck in his mouth would have been priceless.

Don’t be surprised if these two don’t turn up in next year’s Keukenhof marketing material 

We have been so lucky with the beautiful spring sunshine for our visit to Keukenhof, it made the gardens appear even more magical. Seeing the variety of colours and scents is quite unreal. I’m sure that I’ll wake up in a few days and think ‘was that real?’ If you like spring bulbs as much as I do, then I’d certainly recommend a trip to come here at least once, and if you have a dog – bring them along too!

Vizsla mania

At its peak, the tulip mania that engulfed the Netherlands in the early seventeenth century resulted in hugely inflated prices – with single bulbs apparently selling for small fortunes. Of course it all ended badly when the ‘tulip bubble’ burst and many people were left bankrupt. Thankfully, tulips today are modestly-priced and there are plenty of opportunities at Keukenhof’s many retail outlets to purchase any of the bulbs on display – or in fact a just about anything from a wide-variety of tulip-inspired merchandise: neck ties (extraordinary), scarfs, handbags, jewellery, serviettes, tissues – you get the idea. If you can put a tulip on it, it’s for sale at Keukenhof.

So photogenic – the husband’s not bad either!

We could have capitalised on another popular Keukenhof activity – particularly among Japanese tourists: what to do after taking several hundred tulip photographs? Take pictures of all the dogs in the gardens of course! Especially handsome ginger dogs! Zoly could have earned our entry fee back easily today if we’d charged €1 for every picture taken of him. Everywhere we went we were asked. The Japanese tourists were particularly keen, which was ever so slightly nerve-wracking as I kept thinking that it would probably only take a good tail wag from Zoly to knock some of these very petite Japenese tourists off their feet and into the nearest flower bed or water feature, (also, he has been known to jump up at people when he’s overexcited and send them flying). Fortunately everyone stayed standing this morning.

You can imagine the looks we got

The best Zoly-shot of the day, though, was taken by me. I call it ‘Delft Lovers’ a sort of homage to Banksy and Delft pottery in one – I’m sure it will go viral!

Keukenhof gardens – part one

I’ll start with the health warning – if you don’t enjoy tulips turn away now. As advised in yesterday’s post – today we visit Keukenhof gardens. When we were planning a spring mini-break we discovered that dogs on leads are welcome in Keukenhof, so that sealed the deal. 
The forecast for today was bright sunshine all day, so what with it being a Sunday we knew it would be busy. The plan was to be there for when they opened at 8am so it was early to bed last night and the alarm set for just after 6am to be ready for the start of breakfast serving at 7am. 
I have to confess it wasn’t the best night sleep. The bed was comfy enough, but in the early hours of the morning there was something of a ‘parting’ of the ways. Our ‘double’ bed is in fact two two separate single beds pushed close together. This is practical and with two single duvets it avoids that nighttime ‘battle’ to keep warm. The trouble is that Zoly tends to sleep on our bed when we’re on holiday, he had positioned himself equidistant between me and Mike at the bottom of the bed – that is effectively on top of the fault line. 

At around 2am I was woken by whimpering and scrabbling sounds. As I reached down to touch Zoly, I was not met by the dog but rather a gap. It must have seemed that there’d been some sort of earthquake for Zoly and the two beds had parted – poor Zoly had sunk into the hole between mine and Mike’s bed and was suspended on a sort of hammock formed by the blanket that he was wrapped in and he couldn’t get out. I rescued him and set him free. 

Understandably he was wary of going anywhere near the ‘canyon’ after that, so he positioned himself firmly on my part of the bed. Mike was still fast asleep – he didn’t rouse once during this entire dog rescue incident. The remainder of my night was a choice of sleeping with my legs apart (one each side of Zoly) with them suspended over the side of the bed or curled up in foetual position. None of these were very comfortable, so a restless night ensued.
We did get to the gardens at 8.30am, not bad given that when on holiday Mike runs on GST (Gay Standard Time – that is usually between 30min to an hour behind). Even at this early hour on a Sunday there were already around ten coaches parked up and groups of visitors waiting to get in. We purchased our tickets and headed in.

Tulips in every shade and shape – simply stunning

Even though we sort of knew what we were going to see, it still takes the breath away. Massive swathes of tulips and other spring flowers flow in all directions. Pink, red, yellow, white, purple… the colours go on. It’s not just tulips though: grape hyacinth, daffodils, iris and heavily scented hyacinths are all there too. The bulbs are planted in big blocks of colour and set out in lots of different patterns. The beds weave among the trees with the canopy providing beautiful dappled light. Streams, cascades and fountains and beautifully manicured grass and sculptures are dotted around too. The whole effect is quite delightful.

Can you believe we actually queued up for this shot!

Paul Smith stripes in tulip

Obligatory dog and husband amongst tulip shot

Our first two hours were not too crowded, so we visited most of the garden – including the more formal beds of tulip combinations, the woodland garden, the Willem-Alexander pavilion (like the grand pavilion at the Chelsea Flower Show, except they have to keep it looking stunning for 3 months not 3 days!) and the windmill with its views across the stunning multi-coloured striped tulip bulb fields adjoining the garden. 

Tulip mania traffic gridlock

Keukenhof gardens – part oneBy 11.30 it was getting very busy indeed, so we decided it was time to leave. Zoly had been amazing walking round, but we didn’t want to risk a repeat of the Harwich terminal woofing at strangers incident so we headed out. Before we left to take Zoly across the road for a run in Keukenhof bosch (forest) we got ‘stamped’ so we can return again later this afternoon, when hopefully the coach-loads of tourists have headed away. It was definitely the best decision, as we walked the short distance to the forest it was apparent that the draw of a visit to Keukenhof in the sunshine had resulted in gridlock on all the approaching roads. Of course those on foot and bikes were all moving ok – which just goes to prove: bulbs are better by bike!

Going Dutch

We love the Netherlands – ok it’s a bit flat, but it’s such a civilised place to visit. From the moment you step off the boat you’re made to feel very welcome – it obviously helps if you have an orange dog as Zoly attracts lots of loving glances wherever he goes.
I think I may have written before about the wonderful cycle infrastructure in the Netherlands. However, there can never be too much of a good thing when it comes to cycling, so here’s a little bit more! As well as beautiful segregated cycle lanes everywhere, the spaces provided to park and store bikes are just jaw-dropping. Every little suburban railway station has covered and secure bike parking that makes the so-called ‘extensive’ bicycle parking at our local mainline station – Temple Meeds in Bristol – look third rate. At major stations and interchanges, such as at Leiden the bike parks are even more amazing. At each entrance to Leiden station a ramp takes cyclists down under the station to a vast underground bike park that is staffed and free to use. Such wonderful bike facilities means it’s no surprise that just about everybody from nought to 80 (and over) rides a bike in the Netherlands.

Going underground with your bike at at Leiden station.

Netherlands’ towns are neat and well cared for, most are designed on ‘home zone’ principles where the priority is firmly given to pedestrians and cyclists. Back in Bristol we live in one of our cities’ few home zones, but here in the Netherlands they are the norm. The gardens here are lovely – many have pleached trees, clipped borders, beautiful herbaceous plants and of course at this time of year: tulips. The Dutch clearly take a lot of pride in how their streets look and we’re getting to enjoy their efforts too.

Dutch gardens are a delight

The one element that foreigners might struggle with in the Netherlands is the language. Fortunately the Dutch tend to be incredibly well-versed in English and we barely have to open a mouths before they realise they need to speak to us in English. It has been a little bit of a challenge trying to read ingredients on the packets to try and make sure we don’t eat anything that isn’t vegan. Thank goodness for translation apps – that has is quite handy for that sort of thing. 

Zoly leaving his mark on the Netherlands

I don’t think Zoly is having any such language difficulties. The international language of dogs seems to be working just fine for him. Sniff the other dogs bits, maybe a quick lick (not to much on first encounter), a friendly wag and a low-down crouch to indicate you want to play. The other dogs seem to get it – either that or they think: ‘an orange dog, he must be Dutch!’

Flower town

After the excitement of the Bedminster Secret Gardens open day last Sunday, it’s nice to be visiting someone else’s garden, as opposed to having hundreds of people visiting mine! Keukenhof is the garden we’ll be visiting; it’s a bit larger than mine, which is probably a very good thing at there will be thousands of others inside it with us.

Keukenhof is the finest spring garden in the Netherlands – in fact in Europe. The garden is only open between March and May and it’s open to show off the thousands of spring bulbs at their best. Situated just outside Lisse, the gardens are at the heart of the Netherlands bulb district of Bollenstreek (which translates to ‘bulb region’). The gardens were created to help bulb growers show off their products to the world. It must have been a success as the gardens attract nearly a million foreign visitors a year – and given that its only open for three months is pretty impressive.

Mike looking very Dutch with his orange coat and orange dog in the centre of Lisse


The quiet little town Lisse with a population of just over 22,000 people, suddenly becomes the centre of the Dutch tourist industry every spring. Hundreds of coaches full of tourists arrive each day. Of course Lisse now appears to be well-prepared for this horticultural invasion. All the shops in town decorate their windows for the event and planters are beautifully filled with spring delights.

Lisse looking lovely from top to toe

Most visitor appear to arrive and leave on the same day, but some – like us – choose to stay locally. It’s fair to say that Lisse much makes the most of it’s one big asset – as well as visiting the gardens, it’s possible to hire a bike (painted orange of course) and ride around a special route to see the bulb fields. If the weather isn’t good there is the black tulip museum where the history of the tulip is explored. If retail therapy is more your sort of thing then you can always go shopping for, er… bulbs. Whether it’s at pop up stall along the roadside or in the local Aldi, bulbs are for sale everywhere.

Adjacent to the gardens is the Keukenhof forest, a beautiful woodland that is cris-crossed with paths. The forest is the perfect place to exercise an energetic ‘hond’. Although the signs say ‘dogs must be kept on leads’ all the local dog walkers we saw jut ignored this (don’t you just love the Dutch?!). So, as the saying goes: ‘when in the Netherlands… do as the Dutch do! Zoly was very appreciative of this civil disobedience and was zooming and whizzing around the forest paths like a demon.


The soil in this area is very sandy (perfect for bulb growing), so underfoot it feels a bit like being on the beach – and Zoly loves the beach, it’s so good for exfoliating the paws!

Into the woods of Keukenhof 

After the forest we called into the Keukenhof gardens information office to plan our trip to the gardens tomorrow. The women at the desk spoke perfect English and was incredibly helpful. She advised on the quietest times to visit and confirmed that provided we get ‘stamped’ on our way out tomorrow, we can come and go as many times as we like in the same day. So with tomorrow’s plans sorted we wandered back into Lisse, wandered around the pretty town centre, picked up a pizza and headed back to our hotel where we have very nice apartment suite with a lounge, kitchenette, large bedroom, bathroom and walk in closet (I should have packed more clothes!). We’re now fed and watered and ready for an early night to prepare ourselves for a full-on day of tulip mania tomorrow. 

Keukenhof here we come 

Deserted at sea

We’ve caught the ferry from Harwich quite a few times now. Usually we travel by bike, but as Zoly wasn’t quite ready for that experience yet, we came by train. I think it’s fair to say that Zoly has not exactly fallen in love with our lovely Dutch Doggride bike trailer! It’s quite a long journey to Harwich, even for us to cope with (especially with Mike’s persistent back pain) so we were also a little anxious about how Zoly would cope – especially going on the ferry for the first time.

He was great on the trains and even on the Underground in rush hour. A top tip – if you want to avoid the crush on the Tube in rush hour – take a dog. We seemed to create an exclusion zone around us. Of course, little did people know that if Z decided to shake his head his slobber would have easily exceeded this zone. Fortunately for everyone the saliva mostly remained attached to the dog. The journey from Liverpool Street was pretty uneventful apart from a woofing incident when a leather clad bloke suddenly came through the train door from another carriage, but mostly Zoly snoozed on the floor.

On arrival at Harwich International (somehow it doesn’t quite have the same ring as St Pancras International) we trekked over to Morrison’s (or maybe that should be ‘Morrison’s International’ as we needed to get some food for our and the dog’s breakfast. In our rush to leave the house I’d forgotten the carrot and meat for Zoly plus there was no point in caring soya milk from the west coast to the east. The trudge through the arse-end of Harwich to reach a desolate and windswept retail estate really makes you wonder what the European visitors disembarking the ferry must think of when this is their first glimpse of Britain. No floral clocks or fluttering European flags here, just a B&M warehouse, Costa coffee, Bargain Buys and a massive ‘Vote Leave’ banner on the first roundabout as you leave the ferry terminal. If I were them, I’d be tempted to turn around and head straight back to the Netherlands.

A very warm welcome (not) to England for our European neighbours

Mike did have a go at dislodging the ‘vote leave’ banner, but it was too well staked into the ground. Zoly gave it a sniff but even he couldn’t be bothered to waste his piss on it. It did seem particularly ironic that a little town stuck out on edge of Essex that must be so reliant on Europe for trade and jobs should be where we found this banner – the first we’d seen. In previous journeys across the east of England at election time the countryside had been coming down with UKIP banners, but not this time. Maybe all those farmers are starting to worry that Brexit would bring an end to their free money subsidies. 

There she blows!

The sight of the ferry berthed at Harwich is always exciting. The ship is so huge it looms large above the quayside making the lorries look like Dinky toys. We’re used to boarding the ferry on our bicycles via the car-loading area, but being on foot this time we entered via the foot passenger terminal. The terminal building is pretty uninspiring, a large waiting room with café (closed of course, just to demonstrate the great British customer service!), vending machines and toilets. It was very crowded as one train after another emptied. 

Unfortunately Zoly who had been so good on the journey didn’t cope very well with the crowded waiting room and woofed at a group of unsuspecting Indian passengers. As you can imagine for me and Mike this is very upsetting on two levels – a) Zoly shouldn’t woof at anyone as we don’t want people thinking he’s a dangerous dog (he’s not – if he ever got hold of you he’d more likely lick you to death than maul you) but more concerning is the thought that b) is Zoly being racist? Why did he woof at the Indian passengers? Can dogs be racist? How could two left-leaning gay men end up with a dog that woofs at people from different continents? I think our anxieties about b) says more about us than Zoly!

We retreated to the far end of the waiting room, round the corner where the waiting crowds were well out of sight and there was no one for Zoly to get wound up about. Mike went and spoke to the women checking people through the walk on passenger gate and explained that Zoly was a bit anxious (not to mention us!) as this was his first foreign trip. She was very nice and said she’d let us know when the crowds went down. This was about thirty minutes later and once we’d passed through security and check in we were loaded onto a bus to be driven onto the boat. The foot passenger walk way is closed for replacement – hence the bus ride.

Once on board we went to passenger services to get the kennel key code and took Zoly down to his accommodation for the night. The kennel was already occupied with two other sheep dogs in their cages. We chose a cage above these for Zoly so that he wouldn’t be looking at the other dogs. He was very good going into the cage. I lifted him up and put him on the blanket we’d carried for him to sleep on. Stena Line also provide duvets for the dogs and water bowls so we took advantage of these. There was no woofing, just a bit of whimpering – but to be clear, this was mainly from Mike who was getting more and more anxious about being separated from Zoly for the night. Maybe I’m hard-hearted but I was trying to stay calm as I didn’t want Zoly to pick up on any vibes.

We left Zoly without making too much fuss. Mike stood outside the kennel with the door ajar for a while just to make listen that Zoly wasn’t howling or crying. There was none of that so we headed up to our cabin. I’d barely taken my coat off before Mike had tuned the TV onto the kennel channel. The cctv had six camera angles, Zoly appeared in shot six. He was sat bolt upright with his head facing the door, clearly awaiting our return. The other dogs all appeared to be snoozing (although we watched one owner come into the kennel and then proceeded to sedate her dog), so watching Zoly clearly alert and waiting for our return was heart rending. 

A horror movie – the sort of things you could have nightmares about!

Now where did I put those sedatives – I think Mike needs one

I wasn’t sure watching the kennel channel all evening was going to do any of us much good. Fortunately after about 25 minutes Zoly was looking more settled, if not entirely relaxed. The boat’s engine shuddered into life at 11pm to mark our departure. Zoly perked up at the rumble, but soon was down again. We switched off the TV and hoped that the gentle engine throb might lull him to sleep rather than the far worse prospect of traumatising the poor love into never wanting to go on a boat ever again – a bit like the bike trailer, but on steroids!

Keukenhof 2016

We travelled overseas with Zoly for the very first time. He has had a Pet Passport issued especially. The original plan was to cycle with Zoly in a Dutch Doggyride trailer – but he really doesn’t like being in his trailer unfortunately , so we think we’ll need to be very patient and give him more time and training to get him used to travelling in it. Luckily, Zoly likes trains and buses – so that’s how we’ll travel + the overnight ferry crossing of course. We’re not sure how Zoly will deal with being on a ferry in a cage in a kennel – he’s not been on his own overnight since he was a small puppy – all the more reason to keep the joys of travelling in a dog trailer for another time.

King of the hill

It’s been four whole weeks since we came home from our Easter break in Cornwall – so it’s about time we wrote the last entry in the blog (just before we start our next mini-break blog).

Thursday 31 March was our last full day in Cornwall and after a week of quite showery weather we were finally blessed with full sunshine and no rain. We couldn’t pass up the chance for one final long walk and we had our sights set high. Mike and Zoly had climbed up and down Kit Hill on their long walk the previous day, but were keen on going back and showing Matthew around. Located between Callington and Tavistock, Kit Hill is a country park managed by the country council, but for most of the nineteenth century it was a home to a quarry (where the stone for the William Yard and most of London’s Thames bridges was cut) and a mine. These industries have now long gone and in their place paths and bridleways cross the hill.

Until the 1980s the Hill was the property of the Duchy of Cornwall (so basically our land robbed from us by the crown). To commemorate the birth of Prince William the hill was ‘gifted’ to the people of Cornwall (in other words, we were all given something that we already owned and since there was no more money to be made from it for Charlie Philip Arthur George Mountbatten-Windsor, handing the hill to the council meant that we could all pay for the upkeep). Did I ever mention I’m a republican?!

Kit Hill is the highest point in this part of Cornwall and the summit it topped with a granite column. Unfortunately it’s been somewhat vandalised by the multiple mobile phone masts and communication dishes strapped all over it. The only good thing is that the view from the top was superb – so there was no need to look at the heritage phone mast.

With the clear sunny weather the views extended all the way to Plymouth and over the Tamar Valley to Dartmoor. We could just make out the Royal William Yard and the inlets that form the outline of Plymouth Harbour. It was the perfect place to eat out lunch and savour the view.
Our return trip was down the hill to Callington (not much to write about there) and a hop on the bus back to Calstock before walking back through the Cotehele estate to the cottage. The end of a holiday is always a little sad, but it’s nice to go home too – and anyway it was only going to be a four week gap before our next trip. More blog entries to follow. Hup, hup Holland (and Leicester)!

We conquered that there hill!

Happy valley

The mild climate and the damp valleys that are quite common in Cornwall are perfect for certain kinds of plants. Big and exotic looking ones! Majestic tree ferns, prickly giant gunnera and giant bamboos that tower above you like enormous trees. The valley garden at Cotehele is full of these kind of plants creating a wonderful jungle feel.

The entrance to the valley garden from the terraced garden is through a tunnel that runs under a path dividing the formal terrace garden and the valley. At the top of the valley a medieval stew pond is overlooked by a summerhouse with views down the valley. Alongside this, a fine stone dovecote with a beautiful domed roof. Both of these features would originally have provided sources of food during the winter months, thankfully the doves and fish are purely ornamental these days. 

  
A stream runs from the top of the valley flowing into a pool before cascading into another, then another before finally reaching the Tamar at the bottom. The constant water provides the perfect damp atmosphere for the plants to flourish, but also adds a wonderful soothing sound as you wander through the garden. Cotehele isn’t the biggest valley garden I’ve visited – but it’s intimacy is truly enchanting, well worth a visit.

 

Mike and Zoly larking about

Matthew was in a very grumpy mood this morning. None of us had slept particularly well and he’d decided that it was Zoly being restless in the night, but I suspected that it was more than that – we’ve had noisy overnight storms all week so combined with Zoly’s nocturnal antics plus the fact that Matthew just never stops meant that he was suffering a bit. And when Matthew is suffering from tiredness, everyone else better watch out! Discretion being the better part of valour and all that, I decided that I should make myself and Zoly scarce and take off on a day-long hike. I like to ‘join things up’ and since we’d walked from our cottage in Metherell to Cothele and then followed the Tamar Valley Discovery Trail along the River Tamar as far as Calstock, I wanted to do the next few ‘sections’ of the Trail – heading north through Gunnislake, then west via Bitthams, Chilsworthy, Latchley, Greenscombe Wood, Luckett as far as Old Mill, where we could turn south and over Kit Hill and back through Harrowbarrow to Metherell.

The weather today  promised to be fine (at last) and Matthew hadn’t really been able to spend very much time in the gardens at Cothele so he walked with us until we arrived there.

It was nice not having to be wrapped up against the rain and on the walk through Cothele Quay into Calstock everything looked so much brighter.       

         

 

 

  

 We’d been as far as Calstock church on a previous walk – it’s sited high above and quite a walk away from the town. We’d wondered why it was so far away from where everyone lived until we discovered that in 2007 a team of archaeologists from the University of Exeter had uncovered the remains of a Roman fort surrounding the church – it would have been big enough for 500 soldiers and is the furthest south west that Roman remains have been found. I figured that the church was probably where it was because it was built from stones that had been nicked from the Roman fort!  

Once we passed through Gunnislake the valley sides became steeper and narrowed as we headed further upstream – after all the rain the river was incredibly high, very fast flowing, foaming and churning  – I was concerned to keep Zoly away from the edge. 

 The Tamar valley is so beautiful around here though – cliffs and forests, weird and rocky islands everywhere and the whole area is characterised by ruined Cornish mine workings being reclaimed by nature  – tall engine sheds built from stone with high round chimneys, abandoned workshops and crushing sheds, piles of spoil and fenced off shafts. Most of the mines were for tin, copper, arsenic and silver.  

  
 We came across a couple of really nice-looking little holiday lets above the River in Chilsworthy, they had amusing names!

  
Also, a rather inviting place to stay in Latchley – we just need to check out their dog-friendly credentials before we make a booking (although just about everyone seems to have a dog around here, plus vegans are always animal-friendly, so this place is probably a safe bet). A man pushing a wheelbarrow in the village said: “That’s a fine-looking hound”as we passed.

 The walk up to Kit Hill was challenging as it was very steep and near the end of our walk. But it was worth it for the amazing views. All the way to Plymouth looking south and over to Devon in the east.

 

   
There was a quarry high on the hill a stones used in the Bishop’s Rock Lighthouse in Scilly as well as six London bridges over the Thames (Lambeth, Putney, London, Chelsea, Blackfriars and Waterloo). 
 A stone monument at the summit of Kit Hill can be seen for miles, from a distance the mess that’s been made of it through having various bits of communications equipment strapped to it isn’t clear. I think it’s a shame the work couldn’t have been done more sympathetically.

  
We came off the hill for the short walk back to Metherell – we called in to the farm shop in Harrowbarrow for some well-earned ‘premium’ cooked Cornish ham for Zoly, we arrived two minutes before closing time – phew! Lucky boy.

  

Spring-a-ding-ding, a blooming sensation 

After what has been one of the mildest winters ever recorded it is perhaps a little surprising that spring hasn’t been and gone already. Before Christmas the news was full of reports of daffodils in bloom in December – months early. Yet despite those early arrivals, in most places spring blooms seem to be going on and on, lasting longer than I can recall for quite some time.

Here in Cornwall it feels a bit like an outdoor version of the Chelsea Flower Show where you would see all the spring flowers, from the earliest snow drops through to the latest flowering daffodils all in bloom in the same marquee. For Chelsea this artificial mash up of the seasons is achieved through human intervention. Plants are kept from flowering by storing them in fridges or brought into flower early by putting them in heated greenhouses. But this spring here in Cornwall, nature has created its own all-in-one springtime display – all thanks to global warming most probably.

The gardens at Cotehele are absolutely bursting with early, mid- and later spring flowers everywhere you look. In the woods and natural embankments there are sparkling white woodland anenome and tiny snowdrops, bright waxy yellow petals of celandine stretch out to welcome the warmth of the spring sunshine and clusters of pale yellow primroses cling to steep banks and bring a smile to my face, they transport me back to our wedding day two years ago when the grounds of the wedding reception venue were filled with their blooms to celebrate our marriage. 
  
Among the acer glade in the garden, fritillaries bob their purple checkerboard bonnets amongst the plain white versions of the same flower. Just around the corner amongst the camellias and azaleas with their big bright pink and red flower heads are drifts of bluebells – neither plant seems to be the slightest bit bothered by their technicolor clash of hues.

   
    
 Surrounding the solid stone walls of the house the daffodils abound in every shade of yellow from the palest almost white to ones that are virtually neon. In a corner, almost tucked away behind a garden gate leading through to the upper garden is a drift of bright pink cyclamen. So slight and delegate and yet brighter than the pinkest of lipsticks that you could possibly imagine.

 
The highlight of this gardens spring sensation awaits in the old orchard. Among the gnarled branches of these aged apple trees (the branches so covered in moss and lichen that you wonder if they are still alive) is a living horticultural history book. Clusters of heritage daffodils flow amongst the fruit trees, their golden blooms almost like a thousand miniature suns lighting the orchard. Their names displayed in chalk on slates ‘Van Sion’, ‘Baths Flame’, ‘Sulphur Pheonix’ and my favourite ‘Butter and Eggs’ so rare, they could so easily have been lost if it weren’t for the sterling work of those preserving these flowers for us and future generations to enjoy.

   
  
    
    
 In a few weeks this will all be faded – for another year – but the memory will live on, and sure as day follows night, spring will come again next year.

Paws for thought

Today I reached that point in the holiday when I actually felt more tired than I did at the start of the week. This phenomenon can’t really be put down to over exertion as we’ve not really stretched ourselves, but rather sleep deprivation. 
It’s always a bit odd when you are not in your own bed, but to be fair the bed in the cottage is quite comfortable – for two. There lies the problem. As we travelled here by train we packed light, so no room for Zoly’s bed. We did bring his mat and blanket, but these are not up to his usual nocturnal standards and he’s made that very clear.
Despite the ‘no dogs on the furniture’ rule, Zoly has decided that he must sleep between the two of us. Given that the bed here is considerably smaller than our bed at home, for this arrangement to work well it requires a regimented alignment of sleeping partners and absolute stillness throughout the night. Zoly and Mike are not known for either of these.

  Two’s company, there’s a crowd

Last night we reached ‘peak duvet’ whereby the amount of duvet available to cover both Mike and I was seriously impeded by the large fury boy with long extended legs laying between us. Much tossing and turning ensued, with my peace and slumber finally being shattered at around 3am by my beloved husband exclaiming in a firm voice that Barbara Woodhouse would have been proud of ‘Zoly get your paw off my face’.
Needless to say I did not awaken this morning feeling fresh as a daisy, so after much discussion with Mike I decided to limit my excursion to the Cotehele gardens (as the sun was finally shining) whilst Mike and Zoly enjoyed a longer walk. This was most definitely the best decision as when I am sleep deprived I am not the best person to be around (unless you like grumpy middle aged men!).
A few hours pottering amongst plants and stopping to snooze in the warm spring sunshine (at last!) on the different garden benches has done the trick. My batteries feel recharged and I’m ready for a final burst of excursion on our last full day tomorrow.

The sun has got his mac on

The weather outside is frightful, but inside it’s quite delightful – well it is now that we’re curled up beside the log burner and more-or-less dried out from numerous soakings today. The weather forecast had promised some improvement – and to be fair it was lovely this morning. Unfortunately, we were in a particularly ‘go slow’ wedding-anniversary mode today, so we didn’t leave the house until gone 11:00. As we strode out across the fields towards Cotehele a hail storm of near biblical proportions engulfed us. Even Zoly – who had his coat on – was not impressed,  he virtually stopped moving. You could see on his face he was thinking ‘what’s this sh*t?’. Mike and I had to srand over him to shelter himuntil the worst of the hail passed.
The weather improved a bit after the hail (if you consider heavy rain showers an improvement) so we continued until we reached the house. Dogs are not allowed in the house and garden so we took turns to look inside. I went in first and Mike and Zoly went off for a walk. The house is an amazingly intact Tudor manor with most of the walls in most of the rooms hung with vast extraordinary 17th century Flemish tapestries (many very faded, but still wonderfully detailed and extravagant). Apparently the   Edgecombe family had a nicer pile down the road near Plymouth and so Cotehele was left without much modernisation – it still has no electricity.

The main hall had an stunning wooden ceiling with the most exquisite interlocking timbers, the walls were hung with armour and swords (I’m more into tapestries myself) and the hearth was lit with an open log fire. The smoke added to the atmosphere, and the little heat that the fire was giving off was definitely appreciated by the volunteers stewards. I’m sure that on a warm summers day the cool of Cotehele is a great place to be, but maybe not so good on a (very) damp day in March.

After the house I attempted to look around the terraced gardens, but unfortunately further heavy rain arrived soon after venturing out. I took shelter for a short while in a greenhouse and when it eased a little I managed a quick turn around the flower garden through the won fearful drifts of daffodils, bobbing fritillaries and prolific Camellias, but I had to abandon a visit to the valley garden as the heavens opened once more. I think a return visit to see the gardens on Thursday is in order, when the weather is apparently going to be sunny (I’ll believe it when I see it!).


  
  

After reuniting with Mike for the Zoly hand over, he went off to explore the house while we headed into the woods. At least in the woods we were a little protected from the showers. The lovely thing about Cotehele is that there are so many different footpaths to explore around the estate – including a lovely quayside and a water mill. Today we took a route around the top of the valley before dropping down to a stream that runs back towards the Tamar and Calstock. As we headed along the stream towards the river we had to pause as groundsmen were clearing some of the tree damage caused by the weekends storm. One large tree had been blown over, but had caught four others on its way down – making them unsafe. The chainsaws were out to fell these before they tumbled onto unsuspecting dog walkers below. We waited as the timber was felled before continuing back to the house to meet Mike.


When we arrived the heavens opened again (you can start to imagine what kind of day it was!) and no sign of Mike yet, so me and Zoly took shelter in a disabled loo (we would have course vacated it had there been a need). Unsurprisingly it wasn’t very busy today – either in the house or in the disabled loo. Speaking to the people on the entrance desk they said it had been a very quiet Easter for them, apart from Good Friday when the sun shone and the punters flooded in. When Mike cand out of the house he said that he’s not visited the gardens either because it was hammering down. So we decided to head to the cafe on the quayside where dogs are permitted and they serve nice tea and vegan flapjack (Mike had established this earlier when I went round the house as he and Zoly sheltered from the rain by going  round the tearoom!). Refreshments warmed us up ready for the walk back to the cottage and the start of the drying out process. Off to bed now, with the promise of a rain free day tomorrow – hooray!

Wet dogs and English men go out in the spring time rain

Mother Nature clearly has not referred to her calendar. A saying goes that March comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb – well this lamb has a serious incontinence issue as today has definitely been big on the April showers. At least they were forecast, so we wrapped up and were prepared for when the heavens opened.

We planned to make the most of the drier forecast for the morning by walking to Calstock via Cotehele, then to catch the train to Devonport from where we’d walk to the King William Dockyard. The forecast tricked us a bit as we were caught in several heavy downpours on our way to the station. We were all a bit damp by the time the train arrived. It seemed as though most of Calstock had decided to catch the 11.56 train to Plymouth. The single coach rail-bus was quite full with plenty of excitable children, tired looking adults and four dogs (including a damp Zoly). I was quite relieved to get off in Devonport as Zoly in a confined space with lots of other dogs makes me nervous. He inevitably wants to play, not a good idea since 26kg of dog jumping and landing unexpectedly on you in a train carriage is never going to end well.

From the station we walked to the Dockyard via the lovely Devonport Park. This part of Plymouth is quite poor and has had lots of regeneration money spent on it. Devonport Park has benefited from this. Many of this Victorian park’s heritage features such as the bandstand, fountain, park benches and monuments have been restored. The ornamental bedding – a victim of budget cuts in so many areas, was still proudly on show in Devonport.

  

While we enjoyed the surroundings, Zoly also had fun bounding around and introducing himself to the four-legged locals. Like us, Zoly was dressed for the inclement weather with his finest red rain jacket on. I, too, was wearing a red jacket and what with my brown trousers and Zoly’s brown hair the similarities did not go unnoticed. As we walked along I heard two women behind us talking with broad Devonshire accents. One said to the other ‘look at him [referring to Zoly], don’t he look just like his dad’, the other adding ‘you can tell they’re together can’t you’. Mike, who does tend to see himself and Zoly as soulmates (separated at birth), took much offence at the notion that I and Zoly should be considered a natural coupling. Mike should pay more attention to his outfit coordination, I shall say no more!

It was about 20 minutes walk to the dockyard, through more heavy showers unfortunately, so we arrived damp and a bit chilly. We’d already checked up on dog-friendly Plymouth and we headed straight for the Seco Lounge. This cafe/bar is part of a chain that was founded in Bristol – the first ever Lounge was actually opened on North Street, just round the corner from our house. They’re always a safe bet for us as they have a vegan menu and are very dog-friendly. We ate, warmed up and dried off before heading of outside to look around the yard.

The Royal William Victualling Yard was the major victualling depot of the Royal Navy and an important part of Devonport Dockyard. In case you’re wondering what victualling is, it basically means they prepared all the food, drink and other provisions necessary for a naval voyage. It was built between 1826 and 1835, and occupies a site of approximately 16 acres (65,000 m2) but was closed in the early 1990s and eventually sold to private developers who have converted it into office space, luxury apartments (are there ever any other kind?), cafes and shops.


  

The buildings across the site are incredibly solid with fine Georgian architecture and chunky granite block construction. The yard occupies an impressive promontory overlooking Plymouth harbour. We walked Zoly around the perimeter and then up onto the Devil’s Point to take in the views over the harbour and Plymouth city. More rain showers beckoned so we took shelter in another food place, a trendy bakery where they served hot drinks too and made dogs very welcome (we like dog-friendly places).

Our return train journey was uneventful bar a terrier with a nervous disposition who went into fits of yapping every time the train doors opened. The dog’s American owner responded each time with repeated shouted “No” and instructions to the dog to “Stop”. Mike tried to inform her that the dog would probably be interpreting her shouting “No” and “Stop” as if she were joining in with the dog, so she was just reinforcing the behaviour that she was trying to stop and that she should not tell the dog off but rather try and distract the dog with treats (he’s read lots of books on the subject). She didn’t take too kindly to to the advice and simply assured him that the dog was ‘just excited as he’s nearing the end of his journey’. Thankfully Zoly wasn’t much bothered by the yapping and was happily snoozing stretched across our laps.

We walked back from Calstock via Cotehele, catching a couple of light showers but getting back to the cottage just before a horrendous downpour. Zoly had his dinner before we all headed off to the local Carpenter’s Arms for ours: a pre-anniversary pizza. Tomorrow is our second wedding anniversary. Traditionally this is marked by cotton gifts, but we’ll be celebrating it with a traditional supper of baked potatoes, beans and vegan sausage, if you can’t have a bit of sausage on your wedding anniversary, when can you?!

Easter in Cornwall – the perfect way to put spring in your step

Last Easter we headed north east for our spring getaway but this year we’ve chosen to go in the opposite direction. Our country cottage is in North Cornwall in the village of Metherall, nestled on the edge of the Tamar Valley. We decided once again not to drive but rather we caught the train from Bristol to Plymouth, then along the Tamar Valley line to Gunnerslake. From here we walked the half an hour or so to the village along winding country lanes. Friday was a beautiful sunny day so the walk from the station was lovely, daffodils and primroses dotted the hedgerows all along our route.  
‘The Lantern’ is a modern, but sympathetic addition to a much older house. The single storey building comprises two gables that mirror the main house. A kitchen/dining/living room is filled with light from two large windows/doors that open onto a small patio. The lounge is clustered around a log burning stove, whilst the kitchen is well fitted with everything you’d need. The bedroom leads off the lounge with a small but comfortable shower room/toilet off that. There’s a washer/drier in a separate cupboard – just the job after the muddy dog has greeted you a little more enthusiastically than you’d like.

Saturday was our first full day but the weather was dreadful (heavy rain and cold too) so we took the bus into Tavistock to get a few supplies. Most of our shopping had been pre-ordered and delivered from Waitrose on Friday evening, but Tavistock has a nice market (the Pannier Market), and as it was Easter the traders were getting into the spirit of things with an Alice in Wonderland themed egg hunt. There were quite a few mad hatters, white rabbits and some Queen of Hearts who it appeared had eaten rather too many tarts!

Before catching the bus back I popped in the co-op and stocked up on a few bits I’d forgotten to order. On reaching the checkout I rather too enthusiastically lifted my basket onto the conveyor belt (the gym visits are clearly having an impact) and in the process I sent a bottle of elderflower cordial flying out of my basket in the other direction. Smash! It left a rather sticky mess, but the staff didn’t seem too phased and soon had it cleaned up. A sweet lady in the queue behind me offered me words of comfort to ease my embarrassment. ‘At least it wasn’t olive oil’ she said, apparently her kitchen floor had never been quite the same since she dropped a bottle of virgin olive oil onto her tiles ‘it still looks oily’ she informed me.

The return bus trip from Tavistock was uneventful and we dried ourselves in front of a log fire (which took all of Mike’s fire lighting skills as we’d forgotten to buy fire lighters in Tavistock). I made a ratatouille for our dinner, accompanied by some rice/quinoa and French bread. The nice Waitrose man had given us two complimentary bars of dark chocolate when he dropped off our shopping, so I broke into one of those even though it was not quite Easter yet. Chocolate before Easter seemed to be just one more rule broken – I’d already received frowns from Mike for putting up the Easter decorations a day early!

   
 Our Easter Day has been mostly spent enjoying a long dog walk. We’ve dodged a few heavy showers, but have also had our fair share of sunshine too. Aside from the sight of the sun, another pleasant ray of light was the sight of not one, but two posters advertising a resurgent Tamar valley Labour Party. Heartwarming though this might be, I very much doubt the Corbyn effect is likely to result in a socialist revolution in north Cornwall anytime soon!

  
Our walk today took us along a footpath through a beautiful wooded valley. Moss covered trees, ferns and bright yellow daffodils adorned the damp valley sides. The path led us to Calstock Quay with the impressive Railway viaduct towering over the river. We did a loop through the village (picking up some curry powder for the dhal we’re making for tea), then along the river, a quick detour through the remains of Okel Tor Mine, then we climbed the valley crossing the railway line and taking a look around St Andrew’s churchyard (disappointingly the church was locked – on Easter Day too!) before we dropped back into Calstock to have some of our picnic lunch beside the quay.

   
    
   
Our return trip took us on a detour to Cotehele Quay, mill and bake house. We had a cup of tea at the quay before strolling through the woods to the mill where we saw the flour being milled and the hydro electric power turbine. Cotehele was much quieter than I’d expected, no doubt the showery weather was partly to blame – not that I minded, it was nice not having to compete with large crowds and it meant we were able to let Zoly off the lead quite a lot. There was one amusing scene where a little girl was sitting on a log whilst her mum too her photo. Zoly (never known to be camera shy) decided he wanted to be part of the action so duly ‘photo bombed’ the shot by rushing into the background and sitting down behind the little girl. 

The walk back from Cotehele Mill only took about twenty minutes across a footpath up to the village. We called in at the pub next door to the cottage to book a pizza for tomorrow night. It’s a dog friendly pub so we shall all three of us be going (but only two of us will be having Pizza!). The rest of today will be spent slumbering with maybe a bit more chocolate consumption – well that is what Easters all about surely!

Summary day 7 – heading home

We had a wonderful (late) honeymoon in Northumberland – and like on our wedding day, the weather has been kind to us. While there were stories from the rest of the country of storms and torrential rain – we mostly had sunshine and blue skies. It only rained on one day, so we were very fortunate. It was our first longer trip away with Zoly – and he seemed to have a lovely time; lots of walks, new experiences, time off lead, things to smell and potential friends to meet and play with. He was really good – coped with the long walks well and slept between us most nights.

On our last morning we thought that Zoly should have a good walk and be emptied out before the long train journey back to Bristol, so Mike took him down to Alnmouth beach for one last time while Matthew finished packing the bags and updated the visitor’s book. The tide was the furthest out that I’d seen it and the sand was very soft underfoot. There were some other dogs for Zoly to play with and he ran into the river a few times. It was a shame to have to turn back for the house.

When we returned to the cottage a small dove was wandering about outside the door – Zoly was fascinated (and salivating)!

Our train from Alnmouth was at 11 and we saw Jill the house-owner as we were leaving. There was an interesting information board, especially about the history of Alnmouth station. The routes we’d taken on some of our walks to Alnwick was along the proposed new heritage steam train route.

We changed trains at Durham and then Birmingham – Zoly was an angel on the train – and as usual had lots of pats and strokes compliments and admiring looks. Everything went smoothly, even though the trains were very full. We arrived back in Bristol at 4:00 and Mike walked Zoly home via Victoria Park to give him a bit of additional exercise before diner and Matthew took all our bags home in a taxi.

We expected to him some trouble persuading Zoly to sleep back in his own bed – but he wasn’t too bad – only two attempts to get on our bed, but each time we took him back to his bed and the second time he stayed there ’til morning. He’s a fast learner that dog!

We hope you’ve enjoyed reading about trip and seeing some of our pictures. Hopefully we’ll be traveling by bicycle next time with a dog trailer for Zoly.

Summary day 6 – what to do?!

Today we planned to go up to Holy Island – it’s Good Friday and it would be a nice place to be today. However, the rain was tipping down, it’s a bank holiday so the already meagre bus services are significantly reduced and there’s also lots of engineering works on the railway! The more we considered various travel options the more unlikely it seemed that we’d get to Holy Island in time to cross the causeway and back at low tide and be able to return to Alnmouth in a day! We needed to make alternative plans. Zoly doesn’t like going out in the rain, which is odd because he’ll jump into the bath, the shower, ponds, water troughs – you name it! Apart of pubs, many dog-friendly indoor venues were not likley to be open today so we thought that we’d struggle.

By 1:00 the rain had eased to a fine drizzle (mizzle?!), so we thought we’d risk a local walk. We set off to Alnmouth – the river and the beach. The tide was coming in and we saw some beautiful big herons in the estuary.

The beach had a couple of other dog walkers although their dogs didn’t seem that interested in playing with Zoly. There were some children trying to skim stones and Zoly thought that this was a fantastic game – he went charging into the water after the stones and seemed to be quite disappointed when he couldn’t retrieve them from under the water. Unfortunately, he was wearing his coat – so that was absolutely soaked and covered in sand in no time. Once he was wet through we decided to let him play and run about – he adores the beach – digs in the sand, runs in wide circles, picks up pieces of seaweed or driftwood and rushes about and tosses them into the air then tries to catch them again. If there are other dogs about on the beach then he loves chasing games. He’s had a fantastic holiday and it’s sad that it’s coming to an end. We wondered if we’d have trouble persuading him to sleep back in his own bed when we get back to Bristol!

It was still raining and feeling cold, so we went into Alnmouth village to see if somewhere might be open and get some tea. There was a nice-looking café open next to the golf links by the beach – called Dandelion I went in to ask if they would let dogs in and they said no – even though their promotional material reads: “We chose Dandelion as the name for our new café bars to reflect the warmth of the welcome and the informal environment.” Well we weren’t going to leave Zoly outside, so we continued on and saw that the Red Lion Inn did welcome dogs, so we settled in there and had peppermint tea and chips! Zoly was well-behaved and was universally admired – they don’t know what they’re missing in Dandelion!

By about three in the afternoon the rain had stopped, although it was still grey, so we decided to continue our walk and head into the next village, Lesbury and walk up the Aln to the Lesbury railway viaduct that we can see from our cottage and cross the river by some stepping stones over towards Alnwick then complete the loop back to the house.

Lesbury is pretty – lots of honey-coloured stone cottages, a small church and even the new development looked attractive. The railway viaduct is about half a mile out of the village but it’s really spectacular with 18 arches – the viaduct carries the main east coast railway line from London to Edinburgh across the river valley, it was built in 1849 to a design by Robert Stephenson. The footpath by the river passes right under the viaduct although with all the rain the ground was very boggy.

We crossed the river further upstream by Bilton Mill using the stepping stones. We encouraged Zoly to get into the water there to get rid of some of the sand and mud on him before heading home.

Summary day 5 – Durham, Blanchland and Castleside

We took the train from Alnmouth to Durham this morning.

We’d arranged to visit cousin Catherine, uncle Malcolm and aunt Sheila this afternoon  and we were meeting Malcolm outside Durham cathedral at 12:30. There was a 9:00am train arriving in Durham at 9:45 so we could spend the morning strolling along the banks of the Weir – the weather was glorious – a lovely warm and bright spring day. We had a lovely walk along the river bank path with its famous view of the cathedral and castle, the bridges, the rowers and a lovely little Greek-style folly – called Counts folly. Joseph Boruwlaski was a dwarf in the eighteenth century who retired to Durham. Having somewhere so close to the city centre where a dog can be off-lead and having fun in safety is wonderful.

Malcolm had been at a special service for bishops, priests and deacons from the Durham Diocese and when we met him he offered to walk Zoly so we could go in and check out the Lego Durham Cathedral! Aunt Janet had also suggested that Matthew search out the Bishop of Jarrow who used to work with her in Coventry and introduce ourselves to him!

Janet had given us a good description of Bishop Mark of Jarrow – so it didn’t take long to find him and Matthew had a quick chat about Janet’s work with the elderly in Coventry.

Then on to the Lego Durham Cathedral, which is brilliant and epic! When it’s complete it will be 3.84m wide, 1.53m wide and 1.7m high – it’s scaled from Lego figures – so that they look more-or-less the right size in the model. There will be around 350,000 bricks in the model and anyone can add a piece for £1. We bough 5 pieces and fitted them to the top of the north tower. There were lots of people making their contributions – so it shouldn’t take long to finish.

After the Lego Durham Cathedral we met up with Malcolm and Zoly in the college grounds behind  the cathedral – I wonder if there’s something about vicars and dogs and keeping off he grass signs?!

Malcolm took us on a lovely drive up to the fells around the Durham/Northumberland border, we passed  the Derwent Reservoir and stopped for a short walk along the river in the small village of Blanchland. I remember going to Blanchland when I was young – probably with Malcolm – to visit Leonard Paulin, who had been the vicar at St Alban’s church in Earsdon and who probably conducted the marriage of my Mum and Dad and who probably also christened me. He was a lovely, cultivated and gentle man and his last parish was here. Blanchland was built with stones from the remains of the twelfth century Blanchland Abbey and has a lovely uniform character as a result of the building stone used and the lovely scale of the buildings.

I think Malcom expected Zoly to have a play in the river – cousin Philipa’s dogs had, apparently – but the water was flowing quite quickly and deep in some places, so Zoly wasn’t going in! We didn’t stay long because I was a bit concerned about Malcom overdoing it, plus we were hungry, so we headed over to Malcolm and Sheila’s house in Castleside.

Lunch was delicious and there was lots to eat – very good for two greedy blokes! Carrot and coriander soup followed by vegetable curry, then fresh fruit salad. Heaven! They’d made sure that Zoly was well catered for too – four bags of treats! The lucky boy! We had a lovely time and it was so nice to spend time with them. We talked about Catherine’s wedding next January, teaching work, Richard’s amazing reviews of the his singing and a bit too much about incontinence for Matthew’s liking! Poor Catherine had a bit of a cold – so I kept my distance as I’m running the London marathon in a couple of weeks.

After a long time at the table Zoly had his dinner, we had a tour of the house then Malcolm drove us back to Durham for the train back to Alnmouth. Matthew wanted to watch the TV election ‘debate’, but I didn’t – he has more resilience than me on these sorts of things I think.

Spring watch

I’m very fortunate in my job that I get to be outside quite a bit. The downside is that I am often travelling quite long distances to be in some picturesque canalside location. It dies mean that I get to see the seasons change and, however fleetingly, the wildlife that heralds the arrival of one season or another.
It’s been wonderful having a week in one place (a beautiful rural place) to watch the march of spring. The obvious signs are everywhere. Daffodils in every shade of yellow sway in the breeze (or gales has been the case earlier this week), bringing their golden smile to front gardens, hedgerows and municipal roundabouts alike. Current bushes drip with their blooms of pink and white. These miniature chandelier blossoms make these bushes look as though there has been an explosion of Pat Butchers earrings.

  If Pat Butcher were a plant

Elsewhere, if you look hard enough, the signs of creatures marking the arrival of spring are all around. Birds are busy performing their courtship rituals, singing their tiny hearts out to attract a mate and gathering material to build their nests. Bees are beginning to emerge from their dormant period and can be seen buzzing around the spring blooms. Hedgerows are bursting into life with patches of butter yellow primroses and Hawthorne bushes fizzing into life with their neon green leaves.

  Primroses announce the arrival of spring

On our walk yesterday we were treated to a wonderful spring sight. As we headed towards Alnwick, along the river Aln we walked across a field and there in front of us were two hates performing their boxing ritual. We weren’t quick enough to take a picture but the image will certainly stay in my mind. The hares were jumping back and forth, their long ears and paws backlit by the spring sunshine. Fortunately Zoly was oblivious to their presence, too busy enjoying his own spring scent fest. The hares meanwhile were a bit more savvy than Z and were soon aware of this lumbering predictor. They were not waiting around to get better acquainted – they were soon sprinting off to continue their ritual elsewhere.

E(R)-mail

Not much blog writing for me yesterday – too busy writing postcards. You see, I’m an old-fashioned boy at heart. As much as I embrace the wonders of social media, I enjoy nothing better than receiving good old-fashioned ‘snail mail’. I also like to keep up the tradition of sending postcards to those nearest and dearest – although I haven’t always been so choosy.
Despite my now resolutely republican tendencies, (cue ‘tut, tut, tut’ from dear aunt Janet), I once spend a good part of a holiday to the Black Forest in Germany sending a postcard to every member of the Royal Family I could think of. The thing is (and this is a good tip for all you teachers out there) – you will always get a reply.
On return from that holiday a steady stream of post began to arrive for me. Each envelope embossed with a royal crest. Despite what the letter from some minor equerry or lady in waiting said, I doubt very much that the Princess of Wales was ‘most interested’ in my dress design for her (a rather fetching black and white polka dot number on a toilet tissue fabric). But it kept me occupied for a while (probably my mum’s intention all along!).
These royal letters, along with college letters from friends, letters from family, cards from significant birthdays and a pile of postcards from near and far are all stashed in a box in my study. I’m hoping that one day (when some e-bug has wiped Facebook/blog records, that this collection might contribute to future generations understanding of life during the late twentieth/early twenty first century. Although if my box of memoirs is all they’ve got to go on, it will be a very particular ‘rainbow tinted’ take it on history.

Summary day 4 – Cragside

Yesterday’s planned trip to Cragside, William Armstrong’s country house near Rothbury was postponed to today since the weather looked better. It’s only 15 miles from Alnmouth to Cragside, but getting there by public transport wasn’t particularly straightforward. There was a direct bus that left Alnmouth station (which is just around the corner from where we’re staying) at 08:40 – arriving at Cragsie at 09:15, but Cragside didn’t open until 11:00 – so there’d have been some waiting about! There were no more buses from Alnmouth until 18:10, by which time Cragside was closed! The next bus to Cragside that would arrive in good time left from Alnwick at 10:10 arriving at Cragside at 10:40. The only problem with this one was that we’d have to walk the 3 miles to Alnwick in order to catch it! It’s a lovely walk though, along quiet narrow lanes, by the river Aln and across fields – so that’s what we did.

As we crossed some fields two hares came racing towards us – they were incredibly fast. At first I though that they must be a couple of dogs because they were so big! It was an amazing sight. Thankfully, Zoly didn’t notice them before they saw us and turned tail. We were still tramping across the fields when I phone rang – it was my aunt Sheila who we’d messaged about making a visit. She and Uncle Malcolm were trying to FaceTime me – it was a bit halting without a Wi-Fi and slightly surreal to be doing a video call in the middle of a field, but we arranged to meet them tomorrow – we’ll go to Durham in the morning (exciting – I can see the part-constructed http://www.durhamcathedral.co.uk/visit/what-to-visit/durham-cathedral-lego-build), then meet up with Malcolm, Sheila and lovely cousin Catherine in the afternoon.

There was only one other passenger on the bus to Cragside – so it’s not surprising that they’re so infrequent. The provider seems to be under threat, too – lots of SOS (support our Spirit) signs pointing out that they have no funding or subsidy and inviting passengers to donate to ensure the services continue. Apart from the infrequency, there seems to be lots to like about Spirit buses – they welcome dogs and even bicycles on board and the buses can be hailed as they approach – not just at designated bus stops. Once on the bus to Cragside we had  wonderful views into the Northumberland National Park and across to the Cheviot Hills – it made me think that we should come back here some more.

We arrived at Cragside and the parking attendant greeted us with the words: “That’s a Hungarian vizsla!” I was a pleased that she recognised Zoly – we’re often asked what sort of dog he is by admirers (of Zoly, not us). She told that she used to have a vizsla called Zeus and was delighted when I introduced her to Zoly. I don’t know whether it was seeing Zoly or our being brazen and walking in to Cragside a bit early or if it’s normal practice to allow people who’ve arrived by bus in for free – but whatever the reason, we weren’t asked for our £10.70 each admission and as we left our National Trust membership cards behind in Bristol, we were fully expecting to have to pay. So that was a good start to our visit!

On our way in we also saw some splendid carved owls. Our friend Ella back in Newcastle had told us that owls were her favourite animal – Ella showed me her owl rucksack and her owl keyring – so here’s a couple of pictures of the carved owls for Ella. There’s an extraordinary owl bedroom in the house – so that must have been the inspiration for these carvings.

Cragside was the country house of Lord Armstrong – a nineteenth century crane, bridge and later armaments manufacturer. Armstrong’s enormous munitions factories and warship construction yards hugged the banks of the Tyne in Elswick from Scotswood Bridge for almost a mile towards Newcastle. I remember as a child being thrilled at the sight of tanks on low loaders. The company was taken over by BAE and the factories were gradually run down then closed in 2013.

Armstrong became less involved in the day-to-day running of his company and in 1863 when he was in his fifties he bought some land in a steep-sided, narrow valley near Rothbury, had it cleared and supervised the building of a country house perched high on a ledge of rock overlooking a stream. He had a massive rock garden installed around the house, seven million trees planted and five artificial lakes were constructed, which were used to generate hydro-electricity. There are over 30 miles (50 km) of pathways to explore now zig-zagging up and down the steep valley sides, down on the valley floor and up on the flatter high moorland.

We had both been to Cragside as children – but we hardly remembered it and a lot had changed. The most startling new addition was the Archimedes screw, which from July 2014 has powered the lights in the house – effectively restoring hydroelectricity to the first house in the world ever to use it. It’s a massive device and carefully designed to allow fish to pass through unharmed. About 10% of the electricity that the estate needs comes from this one Archimedes screw – enough for all the lights and there are plans by the National Trust to use more renewable sources of energy.

We walked through the valley and up to the formal gardens with their beautiful glasshouses, rockeries and splendid views to Rothbury and the hills beyond.

We paused for lunch and a walk up to two of the high lakes and a detour to take in the recently restored flume, that fed water into the lakes. We wandered around the outside of the house and had our picnic lunch in the old stables’ courtyard.

We returned back to Alnwick – and yet again there was only one other person on the bus (a different person this time!) From Alnwick a pleasant walk back to the cottage in Alnmouth, dinner and another early night – we’re certainly sleeping long and well here in Northumberland.

Summary day 3 – Warkworth and Alnwick (again)

The forecast for today was for very high winds for most of the day along with a fine-ish morning then a blustery and showery afternoon. We decided to postpone our original plans to go to Rothbury to visit the gardens at Cragside House and instead take a shorter morning walk south to Warkworth then head over to Alnwick and back to Alnmouth.

Zoly was really tired last night and we figured that he’d appreciate a less arduous day. We set out for Warkworth at about 10. The sun was shining but the winds were already really strong. The path from Alnmouth to Warkworth has been made into part of the National Cycle Network, so it was really well-surfaced and sheltered from the adjacent road by a hedge. At the start of the path there were some lovely views back over the River Aln to Alnmouth. Not far along the path we we came across a lovely bench – carved and painted with a plaque in memory of Michelle Turnbull who died in 2009. ‘Find me here, I am not gone’ – a beautiful memorial.

The main railway line to Edinburgh was over to our right and just south of Alnmouth we could see a level crossing with a house next to it. Mum had told me that my grandparents had lived in a house near Alnmouth by the level-crossing. This had to be it – there’s no other level crossing in the vicinity as far as we can tell. As we were looking, sirens began to sound and red lights started flashing; the gates came down and an express train went through heading north. While all this was going on my phone rang – it was my sister! All coming together this felt strangely satisfying – but I wouldn’t be surprised if Mam told me that it wasn’t this house!

From here it wasn’t far to Warkworth, but on the edge of the village the cycle path veered off to the left and towards Warkworth Bay. Going straight in into the village there wasn’t any pavement, so we were forced to walk on a very busy road. A Welcome to Warkworth sign asked: Please Drive Carefully, but this was entirely in vain – Matthew and Zoly were almost hit by someone in a car who started to drive towards them!. I’m always a bit baffled about why carful driving requires a polite request. In this case it was a completely ignored anyway – cars and lorries and buses were thundering past at top speed on a narrow winding road. This bit of our walk was not pleasant. Thankfully we arrived in Warkworth intact (physically if not mentally), and were greeted with a much nicer sign: ‘Welcome Cyclists’ in a hotel window. Also a funny notice screwed to a house wall: ‘Friends always welcome – family by appointment’.

We made our way up to the castle – on our way we passed a young woman with very bright red dyed hair, I assumed that she must be another local estate agent. Once at he castle we were delighted that we could go in – and for free – with our English Heritage membership cards and that Zoly could accompany us. The women staffing the shop made a big fuss of Zoly – one of them even went off to find some dog biscuits to feed him – we won’t have any trouble taking him back there!

The castle was just as I remembered it – small, but high and lots still intact. My uncle Eric and aunt Sheila live in a house that looks on to Warkworth Castle and when I was a boy I used to visit them and their two boys: Stuart and Neville. We would play in the shadow of the castle and I remember thinking that they lived in an impossibly romantic spot. I thought about calling on my aunt and uncle today – they were delightful, warm, friendly and kind to me when I was small. But they are quite elderly and both rather frail now – I was worried that dropping by unannounced with a husband and dog in tow would be too disconcerting, (I also had that ‘family by appointment’ notice in my mind!). I decided to stay away.

After the castle we had a look in the church – a nice Norman building with a leaning tower. The interior was not so attractive – full of clutter and a CD player playing Gregorian chant, which was rather off-putting too!

There were some spots of rain and the wind was cold by now. Given that our walk in to Warkworth on the road had not been pleasant, we decided to take the bus to Alnwick, pick up some groceries, have a look in the tourist information office, which had been unaccountably closed on Sunday and have some lunch in Barter Books. We also called in at a wonderful pet shop in Market Street and bought Zoly a new harness – he had lots of fun trying on different ones. He had lots of fuss in there, too! On our way to the bookshop, we passed the Conservative and Unionist Office, I was looking at some posters of their candidate in the window when a young man came out of the building, “She’ll be our next MP”, he said when he saw me. “I rather hope not”, I replied – but I fear that he’s right – the Lib Dem has a small majority over the Tories and is retiring at this election, so they’re bound to lose.

We had had a pleasant walk home though – the promised rain never really materialised, so we could have gone to Cragside today. Still, back early meant we could get on with some laundry, write some postcards and Matthew wants us to download and watch Paddington!

The election campaign stutters into life

The general election here in the Berwick constituency has got off to a flying start. Well when I say flying, I mean flying in the kind of way of those people who dress up in fancy dress with wings attached and then launch themselves off seaside piers. In truth, you’d barely know that there is a general election taking place. We’ve seen one large ‘Vote Conservative’ hoarding on the gate posts of a not insubstantially sized house (it’s probably where their candidate lives) and then there is the previously mentioned Boris Johnson (that well known north east politician) ‘I’m backing the let’s dual the A1 campaign’ poster in the centre of Alnwick outside the Conservative and Unionist offices (no pictures of David Cameron there though, funny that).

But just when you thought the election was going to pass unnoticed, it all gets a bit exciting (ok I may exaggerate a bit). Today on our way back from Morrison’s we came upon Iain Gordon, an independent candidate with his very own ‘battle bus’ (ok battle Renault) in the centre of Alnwick Market Place. So what is Iain Gordon of the ‘Fair Society Party’ standing on a platform for? According to the Northumberland Gazette – ‘Explaining his party’s policies, he said that they are fighting for “£10 an hour minimum wage, 50p off a pint of beer, 50p off a bottle of wine, no taxation under £16,000, £20 per month for every foreign registered car on our roads, £200-a-year annually and free parking in hospitals”.

Unfortunately Iain Gordon didn’t get much time to convince many voters of these pledges (or potential candidates – he is apparently at present short of one for the Berwick constituency where Alnwick is situated as he’s standing elsewhere). Shortly after arriving in the Market Place a civil enforcement officer slapped a parking ticket onto his Renault for flouting the new (and ‘wholly unjust’ parking restrictions – that is according to yesterday’s Northumberland Gazette) that have been introduced in Alnwick Market Place.

The police soon arrived to escort Mr Gordon from the scene, his campaign placards left in a heap in the middle of the Market Place – I expect he’ll get another ticket for littering, the price of democracy eh?

When the wind blows

What a night, they said it would be windy and they were not wrong. It huffed and it puffed and certainly tried to blow the Huffy House down. Fortunately it’s a sturdy stone building so we were safe inside from the worst that Mother Nature could throw at us.

The weather forecast for today was further strong winds and heavy rain showers from lunchtime onwards for the remainder of the day. We made the best of it by taking a shorter walk from Alnmouth to Warkworth. We were lucky to have sunshine most of the way, but the dark clouds were gathering fast behind us. The footpath from Alnmouth to Warkworth is also a very nice section of the National Cycle Network with a well surfaced path running alongside the road but separated by a hedgerow.

Zoly enjoyed a whiz around Warkworth Castle (we’re very impressed by English Heritage’s progressive approach to allowing dogs (on leads) on their premises) followed by a bus ride to Alnwick. After picking up a few preserves we made for Barter Books again to partake of the buffet room. You can tell that the Easter holidays have begun, the whole place was overrun by children (reinforcing my opinion that dogs are far less trouble).

Our walk back didn’t take long as the gale force wind blew us along. No sign of the forecast rain, just more sunshine – if it was a little fresh. The washing that we put on before we went out was done, and what better weather for drying it outside. I’ve pegged it to the line (with extra pegs) and so far (touch wood) it’s still there. I don’t expect that it will take long to dry, providing it doesn’t take off and land somewhere in South Shields!

Summary day 2 – Alnmouth to Embleton – return by bus

The weather forecast today was for a fine, blustery morning with rain in the late afternoon – probably around 4 or 5. We decided to walk up the coast from Alnmouth to Dunstanburgh Castle then on to Embleton to catch a bus back.

Mathew made a picnic and we set off at about 10am. Alnmouth was beautiful, with bright blue skies, sparkling sea and the wind sending sand streaming and skiming across the beach.

There were really very few other people about – some dog walkers and a runner running along the sand with her dog. We were walking north with the sea on our right and the sun mostly behind us. There’s a very well-marked coastal path and we used that or walked on sandy beaches or across rocks.

We went through or past Foxton, Boulmer, Howick, Craster then Dunstanburgh and Embleton. We walked about 14 miles when the bends and curves of the bays and promontories are taken into account. Zoly walked much further than that, of course – he was trotting backwards and forwards, zig-zagging from side to side, chasing after other dogs and paddling in the sea!

The coast heading towards Craster was really undulating with the basalt rock outcrop at Cullernose Point where tall linear stone columns juts out to the sea. The path was surrounded by gorse bushes with the most incredible bright yellow flowers. There were clumps of flowering daffodils and primroses too – making it very spring-like.

We stopped for lunch in Craster at about 2:00 and had a little look around the village – lots of pretty boats and smoke billowing out of the herring-curing sheds where ‘smoked kippers’ are produced.

Dunstanburgh Castle is magnificent – even though it it is ruined. It was built in the early fourteenth century on a cliff-top promontory and we could see it in the distance as we rounded headlands, then it would be hidden from view, only to reappear again, all the time getting larger and larger. The ruined gatehouse is one of the most striking features and was the largest of any British castle. The landward side of the castle was protected by large artificial lakes – meres – that have largely silted up now and are filled with boggy plants

When we arrived in Embleton, a bus was coming towards us – and even though we weren’t at a bus stop we signalled for it and the driver stopped for us, What a result! Zoly climbed on to our laps and fell asleep almost as soon as we were sat down.

Back at the cottage and Zoly needed a hose down before his dinner, which he didn’t particularly appreciate. After he’s eaten he fell asleep for he rest of the evening. He’ll have to have a quieter day tomorrow we think!

Agent orange

There is absolutely no doubt that this is a beautiful part of the world and I can see the appeal of living here. I like to have a little nose in the estate agents’ windows to see what’s on the market and play a game of ‘seeing what we could afford’. There are some lovely stone-built town houses and several coastal properties with stunning views. On the whole, the properties are very well presented and tasteful – which is more than can be said for one of the estate agents!

Walking into Alnwick yesterday, our eyes were assaulted by the ‘for sale’ sign for Coast and Castle estate agents. The rather startling choice of hair colour sported by the estate agent featured on the hoarding was more in keeping with the kind of ‘day-glo’ effect you’d expect after a day trip to Fukushima, rather than from someone selling castles or cottages with sea views. Perhaps it’s just an unfortunate printer’s error – or maybe Toyah Wilcox has packed in music for a new career in real estate!

Beach Boys

We have been very fortunate in our decision to head north east for our holiday. While Bristol (and most of the rest of the country) seem to have been battered by wind and rain since the weekend, we’ve had mostly sunshine with just the odd shower. Today has been no exception, with glorious sunshine for our walk to Dunstanburgh Castle.

Mike tends not to be very keen on beach holidays, I’ve never persuaded him to head to the Greek islands and even on our excursions to Brittany we rarely spend very long on the beach.  The magic of Northumbria’s coast has clearly worked its charms on Mike (that and our four legged friend’s insatiable appetite for running wild in big open spaces) as we spent most of our day on the beaches and cliffs of the coastal path.

The sun, sand and wind in the dogs ears made for some lovely images. Of course we are clearly biased but Zoly does usually turn heads wherever we go and with the sunlight shining off his ginger coat, today was no exception. He was glowing a beautiful orange colour that wouldn’t have looked out of place as a spray-tan on the cast of Geordie Shores – he was our very own Geordie Paws!

We started out from the cottage and headed into Alnmouth. The wide white sandy beach in the sunshine was clearly a magnet for dog walkers and Zoly was in his element, going through his usual tentative slow crouch approach, followed by laying down with a ‘please play with me’ gesture to every dog he met. By the time we reached Dunstanburgh I think he must have greeted at least 50 dogs.

The sunshine (and perhaps a little of the sea breeze) has left my face feeling a little sun kissed this evening. It must have done Zoly’s beauty regime good too. There’s nothing like a few hours racing around on the beach to exfoliate those paws. However, sandy dog is not a good thing when said dog likes nothing better than to snuggle down under the duvet of your bed. As soon as we got in Mike took Zoly into the wet room for a hose down before lighting the fire for him to dry off in front off – this place is becoming less like the Huffy House and more like the ‘Woofy House – spa resort for dogs’ every day.

Bark-gain books

It has to be said that there isn’t an awful lot to do in Alnwick on a showery Palm Sunday. After a quick coffee, (but no soya milk available – Mike was not happy about that), a whizz around the small market (a white Primula Denticulata ‘Snowball’ purchased – let’s call it an anniversary present [to myself!]), and a glance at the Tory election campaign billboard (the highly imaginative [not] and environmentally destructive: ‘let’s dual carriage the A1’) – we sought refuge in Barter Books.

Housed in the (now redundant) Alnwick station, this temple to secondhand books is surely the highlight of any trip to Alnwick. It beats the Castle and (contrived and gimmicky) Castle Gardens hands down. Rails and platforms have been replaced by shelf upon shelf of secondhand books. Each lovingly categorised and displayed with love and reverence, (appropriate for a cathedral of books). In an age when the Internet has all but killed off the independent bookshop, Barter Books is a beacon of light.

As well as the wonderful books, the warm welcome is far better than anything you’d find in any chain store. Roaring coal fires greet you in the former waiting rooms, now converted to snugs, perfect for perusing you chosen books. The old station buffet has been lovingly restored (and extended) to accommodate the hoards of hungry bibliophiles. High above the shelves trains on a model railway clatter their way round the store and on the end wall an artistic arrangement of neon tubes means that the sun is always shining, even when (as this afternoon) the rain was hammering down on the roof.

Best of all though is the sign on the entrance that proudly announces that ‘dogs are welcome’. What else would you expect from the place where the original (and now much reproduced and mimicked) ‘keep calm and carry on’ war time propaganda posters* were re-discovered? Dogs are the ultimate calming influence – much more so than children, and if they’re let in, why not dogs too? Zoly was in heaven. At almost every turn there was a new friend to say hello to and admiring glances and comments from the two legged punters. The only down side was that Mike kept wandering off to look at books (how inconsiderate), leaving poor Zoly angst ridden until Mike reappeared from behind one book shelf or another. Fortunately today’s separation anxiety was a fairly quiet affair (no barking and just a little bit of whining) – that’s Zoly I mean (not Mike).

What’s even more remarkable though is that Mike only purchased one item – and it was for me. Returning to the cottage I was presented with an anniversary gift, wrapped tastefully in a Barter Books plastic bag. The contents ‘Something Wonderful’ Bryn Terfel signs Rodgers & Hammerstein, is now playing as I write this. I can’t think of a more appropriately titled gift to sum up our marriage.

* The ‘Keep calm and carry on’ posters were prepared by the government in case of a German invasion, but as that never materialised they were never used.

Welcome to Northumberland, March-April 2015

This is our first proper holiday for more than twelve months. We’ve had weekend breaks but not a whole week off work together, just us and the dog. Will our one year old (today) marriage survive this new experience? Only time will tell.

As this is our first holiday away with Zoly we a) are still in the UK and b) are not on our bikes. However, fear not those of you who are avid followers of our cycling adventures – a dog trailer is imminent. As soon as we can train Zoly to sit or lay still in it we’ll be planning our first adventure on two wheels with four paws in tow!

Until then we’re depending on two feet, busses and the odd train to enjoy this spring break in Northumberland. This will of course be no real hardship as the walks round these parts are fantastic. Miles of golden sands, lovely lanes and more castles for Zoly to pee on than you can wag a vizsla’s tail at.

This morning we walked Zoly to Alnwick (about four miles away) and then had a mooch around the town before traipsing over to Sainsbury’s on the edge of town to get our weekly supplies. There is a Morrison’s in the town centre but Mike prefers Sainsbury’s as it has a wider variety of vegan-friendly goodies.

Unfortunately we mistimed the bus back, missing one by ten minutes (they’re only hourly on a Sunday). Rather than lug all the shopping home by foot I volunteered to wait for the bus while Mike walked Zoly back to the cottage. Fortunately, the sun has been out most of the time I’d been waiting and it gave me the chance to pen this first holiday blog entry from the Ravensmede bus stop waiting for the X18 to arrive. This blog can surely only get more exciting as the week goes on!

P.S. No sooner had I put my phone in my pocket to make sure I didn’t miss the bus,(I was writing this blog entry on it), than a large black car pulled into the street turning just past the bus stop. A young women ran round the corner and asked if I wanted a lift. I explained the bus was due any minute and that I was only going to Alnmouth. She replied ‘I know, we own the Huffy House’! The driver of the car was Jill who welcomed us yesterday. She’d apparently seen me standing at the bus stop on their way into Alnwick. They’d done their shop in Morrison’s and were on their way home and spotted me still standing there, so kindly stopped to give me a lift. Mike looked a bit perplexed when I can through the garden gate, trying to work out how I’d got back so quickly. It’s good to keep a bit of surprise in a relationship!

It’s time for our honeymoon (only one year late!)

It’s been a busy year, what with welcoming a new member of the family (our puppy, Zoly) and our wedding – we didn’t get around to having any kind of holiday in 2014. We even managed to get married without having a honeymoon, (which Matthew wasn’t very pleased about – I mean the lack of honeymoon, not the marriage, obviously!). But we’re putting that right now – we did some research and came across a lovely cottage near Alnmouth in Northumberland. The owners of the ‘Huffy House’ (more on the name later) allow guests to bring their dogs and it’s situated close to a railway station that we could get to direct from Bristol (the Plymouth to Glasgow train stops at Alnmouth!). We’re booked in for a week and decided that as Zoly hasn’t learned to travel by bicycle yet (he will, of course) that we’d make this trip on foot.

We travelled from Bristol to Newcastle on Friday. It was going to be Zoly’s longest train journey, so we both took turns to walk him – Matthew at 6am out along the Towpath and through Greville Smyth Park then back for breakfast and out again with me to make sure that he was tired and ‘wrung out’ before we settled on the train. The poor thing, he was playing with some doggy friends in Victoria Park – running and chasing and wearing himself out – and I shooed him away from the dog bowl outside the café.

We’d arranged to stay our friends Michelle and Catherine and Iain in Newcastle so that we could get to Alnmouth on Saturday afternoon. They have an absolutely beautiful Weimaraner called Poppy and we wondered how Zoly and Poppy would get on when they met. We needn’t have worried – Zoly was beside himself with excitement when they met and was entranced by her all evening and the next morning. He was constantly wanting to play with her, chasing about, doing a bit of showing off and following her about wherever she went. Poppy is four years old and was very capable of handling herself.

On Saturday morning we took Zoly and Poppy for a walk on the Newcastle Town Moor and into Exhibition Park and then to a café in Northumberland Street (Poppy’s first visit there) – the dogs had a wonderful time on the moor – sniffing and chasing each other. We tuned heads wherever we went – two men with two extremely stylish dogs was a bit of a give-away! Lots of people asked us what kind of dogs we had and would smile and say something like: “Beautiful dogs” as we passed.

After we’d walked the dogs we returned Poppy and headed to Central Station for our train to Alnmouth. We arrived at the station with six minutes to spare… so while Matthew bought our tickets Mike asked at the information desk where the Alnmouth train was going – “Platform two to Edinburgh”. So we went to platform two and there was a train waiting – destination Edinburgh. We just made it – it left Newcastle almost as soon
as we got on – which made us think that perhaps something wasn’t right – it departed sooner than we thought it should. True enough the announcer on the train said we were on the Edinburgh train, next stop Morpeth then
Dunbar! Argh!! I ran up and down the train to find the train manager to check if the train really wasn’t stopping at Alnmouth (and to see if they could be persuaded to stop there since they were passing through), no – and no – we had to get off at Morpeth, run over to the other platform and return to Newcastle to try again
for Alnmouth!

Eventually we made it and finding the house was easy – and it’s in a wonderful setting at the top of a grassy ridge, with views to the Lesbury Railway Viaduct and on towards Boulmer and over to Alnmouth.

Michelle had made some soup for us (Thank-you Michelle – you were a super-star!), so we didn’t have to worry about getting any shopping in and once we’d unpacked and eaten we went for a lovely evening stroll to the sea.

So here we are on the North East coast between Newcastle and Berwick – about a mile from Alnmouth and three miles from Alnwick. We’re planning to do lots of walking with Zoly – up the coast, visit Alnwick, Cragside, Bamburgh, maybe Lindisfarne. We’ll keep you posted.

Coming Down(ton) to earth

Our holiday is drawing to a close. We’re back in Blighty, having landed at the very uncivilised Sunday morning time of 6.50am. It’s good to see that we’ve brought the sunshine back with us, but a relief that the temperature is only knocking 70 (F) as opposed to over 90 (F) as it was in Washington yesterday. I’m pleased to report that our bags with the bikes in have also arrived safely and there doesn’t appear to be a repeat of the crushed helmet incident. The in-flight entertainment was reasonable, I watched Hitchcock and an episode of Downton Abbey, (I do like a nice costume drama). We were also entertained by the two (clearly gay) cabin stewards covering our cabin – where do they find them? Both boys, (they could hardly be described as men) were spray-tanned to within an inch of their lives. Forget cabin lighting – they positively glowed. They were also camping it up with ‘sweetie’ and ‘darling’ as though camp was going out of fashion. Their approach to dealing with passengers who wouldn’t put their drop-down tray-table up for landing or turn their headphones off was to go into ‘camp orbit’, flapping their hands, rolling their eyes and screeching at full volume ‘It’s not me darling, it’s the law’. Whilst this performance showed one side of Britain, the episode of Downton Abbey showed another. Wealthy aristocrats, big old houses, fancy costumes and servants, (after all, we all have them over here don’t you know!). The script of Downton Abbey is also full of ‘oldie-world’ English language that doesn’t often get spoken here nowadays, such as ‘marvellous’ and ‘splendid’. While watching, it dawned on me that the reason Americans ‘adore’ Mike everywhere we go in the USA is that he speaks to them in this very language, with beautiful pronunciation to boot, (you’d never know he was a Geordie boy!). As I chuckled to myself, I pointed out to Mike that he spoke to Americans with ‘Downton dialect’ – to which he replied ‘I do not, that’s how I speak to everyone’. I stand corrected, back ‘downstairs’ for me, I know my place!

Summary – day 17 – Washington DC – London and Bristol (Saturday/Sunday 06/07 July)

Up early and out for a run, (no cycling today, a long flight later … and a marathon for me in three months!).

It was warm, bright and amazingly quiet. We’ve been to the Lincoln Memorial and the National Mall a few times now and it’s always been heaving with people. This morning was different – a few other runners and ‘power-walkers’, but really hardly anyone about. I was wearing my local Southville Running Club vest – so I wanted to have some pictures of me wearing it around Washington DC. We were out for only about 2 hours, we saw the Lincoln Memorial again, the WWII memorial, the Washington Monument and the Capitol.

It was extremely hot by the time we’d finished our run. We called into a grocery store to get some juice and fruit for breakfast then off for some more shopping for M. Apparently that store last night wasn’t Crate and Barrel – it was CB2 – similar, but different in some very important respects … so to get to the real McCoy required a Metro train to Clarendon to the west of the city. We found the store and there were some nice things there – including a Vitamix blender for $599.95 – I didn’t buy it! Matthew bought some stuff – citronella candles for the garden and a chopping board I think. Next door was a huge storage-type gadget shop, half the shop seemed to taken up with selling coat hangers of various kinds! I came across a fabulous and entirely unfamiliar (for Brits like me) ‘back to school’ -type display – stuff for pimping one’s locker! This included pre-cut ‘wallpapers’, miniature chandeliers, tidy boxes and mirrors to hang inside the door … I fear that I have seen the future!

Back at the hotel, just time to consolidate the bags before setting off for the airport. An extension to the Metro has been approved apparently, in the meantime getting to Dulles is a nightmare. Either pay a fortune for a taxi or a shuttle bus or take a Metro to L’Enfant Plaza then a bus, (this was quite a bit of hassle with our bicycles in their bags, but saved us in the region of $50). On weekdays the buses are every half hour and beyone reason on weekends they’re only every hour – even on the weekend after 4th July! Needless to say the bus was absolutely rammed and some people couldn’t get on!

Dulles looks a bit dated now and no oversize luggage facility that we could use so at check-in our bicycles were loaded by a rather slight man, who could hardly lift them onto the everyday luggage trolleys. It felt strange bidding them good-bye – especially as we just abandoned them in the middle of the concourse. I was worrying as we walked away that they might not get to our plane. It took ages to get through the long queues for security. But there was a little sushi bar by the departure lounges and the vegetarian sushi was vegan, so we had some of that.

The plane was an Airbus A330-300 with 218 passengers and 14 crew – quite a few empty seats dotted about.

I watched Admission – with Tina Fey, Paul Rudd – mainly because I saw that it had Lily Tomlin in. Fey is a Princetown University admissions officer who believes that a bright young man is the son that she gave up for adoption. She tries to get him admitted to Princetown. Matthew watched Hitchcock – with Anthony Hopkins and Helen Mirren – about the making of Psycho. Then he watched an episode of Downton Abbey – yuk – dreadful Tory propaganda … he did keep chuckling all the way through, though. I’ve no idea why. After we’d landed he said that he was laughing at the language use, which reminded him of my speech! Grrr …

In early to London Heathrow, landing just before 7 am and time to wish my sister, Lisa, the best of luck today with her ‘Monopoly Run’ – a fundraising run through all the streets and placed on the London edition of the Monopoly board. It’ll be a hot one!

A run in the sun

I’m generally an early riser and as today is our last in Washington, (our flight is at 6.40pm) I was up early to make the most of it. What better way to start the day than with a run with Mike down to the Lincoln Memorial and along the National Mall to the Capitol? When we’ve been down there already this holiday it’s always been crowded and full of tourists. Going at 6am is definitely the best time to visit if you want to see it on your own. With the exception of a few other crazy runners out in the morning sunshine and 80 degree heat, (yes I know, it is 6am!) the Mall was all ours for the taking. Our running time was not great a) because of the heat and b) because we kept stopping to take photographs. Nevertheless, it was a brilliant way to round off our trip to Washington DC and a good way for Mike to start his training for the Berlin marathon at the end of September – I hope it’s a bit cooler than this then – run Mike run!