Travels – Page 7 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

And we’re off again

With just a few days to go before our epic trip to Australia and beyond, it was time to do all those last-minute jobs. Checking visas, finding passports, seeking out Aussie dollars left over from last time, and, of course, packing. For the first time in many years, even I am travelling with a large case, not just a backpack. So, one of the LMJs was to retrieve that case from the storage facility. We managed to consume most of our fresh fruit and veg before passing on the last few onions and spuds to our neighbour Ravi. The most exciting chore, though, was buying snack food items for Helen and her friends and for my sister Pauline, who’ll be joining us from NZ in a couple of week’s time. Lovely, tasty food items such as Hula Hoops, all flavours, Mini Cheddars, Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, Galaxy Minstrels, Twirls, Maltesers, Marmite, chocolate Buttons and chewing gum. Mind you, I visited six shops in Northenden before finding plain Hula Hoops.

We collected Martha and William from school. William proudly waved his wrist-band at us: “I bashed my head today” it said. He was alright though. We walked to the playground having said we’d buy them an ice cream in lieu of the normal snack. Upon seeing that the ice cream shack was closed today, William burst into tears. Thank goodness the nearby café sold ice cream and was still open. The children had ice cream, Liesel and I had carrot cake. The café was meant to close at 4pm, but the guy said the place would remain open for longer as it was such a lovely day. And it really was a nice day. Later on, both the children were running around in short sleeves. We said hello to the ducks as we passed by.

At the end of a school day, William especially has loads of energy to burn off. We ran around the playground, some of us faster and for longer than others. He climbed a lot and used the slides and swings. Martha had a good time too, and spent some playing with her friend Katie.

Somebody lost a friend today, let’s hope they’re reunited soon.

One unexpected surprise was seeing this newly married couple posing for pictures in the park. Very elegant and with gorgeous outfits and yes, I did ask permission before taking some pictures. Unexpected surprise? Isn’t that a tautology? Oh well, too late to edit that now.

Congratulations and best wishes to this happy couple

For the second week in a row, we had to return the children home quite early, as we had tickets for another gig in Manchester. This time, we didn’t even consider taking a tram.

After parking up, we looked for somewhere to eat. Lots of options, and the first venue we tried was full: we’d have to wait half an hour. I suggested hijacking a Deliveroo driver, but Liesel vetoed that idea. Eventually we found a pizza place, Noi Quattro, which I think is Italian for Northern Quarter, and that’s funny because it is actually located in Manchester’s Northern Quarter. The pizza here is possibly the best we’ve ever had. Highly recommended.

And then on to Gulliver’s, tonight’s venue. Sadly, we had to stand for the whole show, and that’s not something either of us enjoy doing any more. Support was Nathan Ball, who was with Martha last time we saw her, in Bath.

We enjoyed Martha Tilston’s set as usual, but she has such a large repertoire of songs now, she doesn’t always sing our favourites. And while I enjoyed her covering Kate Bush and Portishead, it seemed a wasted opportunity: she could have performed a couple more of her own songs!

The drive home was straightforwrad, thank goodness, straight to bed, and up early for the start of our new adventure.

The taxi was on time, and for the first time, we flew out of Manchester Airport Terminal 2. Check-in and security were no big deal. Singapore Airlines is probably our favourite at the moment. Although we’d forgotten to order vegetarian meals, two of the stewardesses in particular went out of their way to make sure I didn’t go hungry! As I told Liesel, my next wife will probably be a Singapore Airlines air stewardess.

Both of us had aisle seats and unoccupied seats next to us. My near neighbour was flying to Brisbane and then taking a cruise up to Cairns. I thought, we should do that one day too.

For a 13-hour long flight, it wasn’t too bad. I managed to watch three whole films, two for the first time: Oppenheimer and Barbie, both being on my ‘list’ since realeased last Summer. The third was Chocolat which I don’t think I’ve seen since it was released 24 years ago, and the book itself is about to celebrate its 25th anniversary. I thought I’d watch it again because right now, I’m reading another novel by Joanne Harris, Gentlemen and Players, and I thought, well, I’ve seen it before, so if I do nod off, it won’t matter so much. Reader, I stayed awake.

Watching the flight progress, I was quite excited when we flew the length of Malaysia, past some of the places we’d visited a few years ago…

In totally unrelated news, it seems I am practically related to JRR Tolkien, author of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. How so? Well, before we left England, and before our subscription to the service expired, we watched the biopic Tolkien on Disney+. In this film, John Roland Reuel Tolkien’s wife Edith was played by Lily Collins. She is the daughter of Phil Collins, the musician. I was born at Mount Alvernia Hospital in Guildford, and so was Lily Collins. How do we know? Because at the time, Sarah was working at Mount Alvernia Hospital, and she told us that Phil Collins’ wife was having a baby there. That baby must have been Lily. Possibly born in the maternity ward where I first saw the light of day a few decades earlier. And she ‘married’ the renowned author. I can’t work out how many tenuous degrees of separation are involved here.

Excuses, excuses

The eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed the absence of a blog post this week. I can’t really explain what happened, except to say, I was busy, I was doing other things. I was almost done, but then I was overcome by a sudden fit of existential dread, I was taken on a wild ride through the realms of the unconscious mind and then, of all things, I was swept away by a whirlwind of emotions.

Later on, I was called upon to save the world from an ancient evil, and while pursuing that task, I was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a time-traveling wizard who led me to become lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts.

Actually, this is a good one: I was just about to finish, but then I was struck by a bolt of inspiration and had to start over. Yes, I was almost done, but then I got lost in the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. But I think the real reason for there being no post this week was, I was on the verge of completing the task when I was struck by a sudden bout of procrastination. Sorry about that.

Heartfelt thanks to my mates Albert Camus, CS Lewis, Sylvia Plath, JRR Tolkien, JK Rowling, Haruki Murakami, Gabriel García Márquez, Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett for supplying these excuses. I’ll be back soon.

Not much

Well that was a quick week with not much going on. After many years, I had my chipped tooth repaired. And a couple of days later, I donated another armful of blood. My back recovered slowly: I think this was the worst, longest-lasting back problem since I stopped working. Towards the end of the week, I went out for a couple of walks, but nothing too strenuous.

Liesel went out or a walk with Sue, to Chorlton Water Park, with a view to leading a group here at some point. She doesn’t often take pictures, but she got a couple of crackers today.

It seems that herons allow Liesel to get closer than I’m able to: maybe it’s something I said.

It was a very nice walk, maybe just a bit muddy in places.

Remember, remember, it’s now November, so of course that means that since before Halloween, there have been fireworks going off most nights. I don’t want to turn into a grumpy old man (too late, says Liesel) but I’m pretty sure fireworks are much louder and more unpleasant than they used to be. I totally failed to capture any of the displays through the window, but if you’re interested, I have a set of photos of the bright night-time sky, glorious in its greyness.

Autumn draws on and when the Sun’s out, the seasonal colours really do show up beautifully. I think this is the prettiest tree in Northenden right now.

As I took this picture, a lady at the bus stop commented on how pretty it was, too.

Someone got in touch on Instagram, a total stranger, but an interesting character. I wondered what sort of scam it was, so I kept myself entertained for half an hour chatting with her (or him, of course). Turns out, my ancestors have been talking to her, and she can help me unlock whatever it is that’s caused me to be held back. I had to light a candle, burn some sage and get a bowl of water. I was in bed at the time, and I wasn’t getting up for that sort of nonsense. So I used AI, specifically Dall-E to generate a ‘photo’ of my candle and bowl of water.

My Goddess, yes, that is how she described herself, complimented me on my set-up. Then asked for $50 for a reading and did I have Paypal. Good night, Goddess. I put my phone on to charge and started reading my book instead.

Liesel and Sue went for a nice walk at Alderley Edge too, another one I had to miss. Don’t worry, I kept myself busy on the computer.

The horses came over to see whether Liesel had any spare wellington boots. It’s nice to make friends when you’re out walking in the muddy Autumn countryside.

Meanwhile, I saw the first Christmas tree of the year, over there in Wythenshawe. Did it make me feel festive? No, not really.

I’m sure it will be delightful when it’s decorated. But look at the sky. This week, it’s been raining a lot, and the blue sky was a rare sight. But I shouldn’t really complain about the weather here when it’s so much worse in Anchorage. When our friend Una opened the garage door, she was met with a wall of snow, eighteen inches deep. I’ll never understand why Alaskans don’t hibernate. Polar bears have got the right idea.

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow

Brrr.

You can warm yourself up by listening to Mick’s Music Mix: the theme this week is Alliteration, what a wonderful way to wind up the week.

Lisbon back to Northenden

We slept well on our first night in the capital. The air conditioner was great. The shower was one of the best we’ve ever used. So much so, we packed it up and took it home with us.

I think it’s fair to say, we ate too much breakfast. I certainly did, and had to have a nice long rest afterwards. The view from our window was of the street behind the hotel, and nothing wrong with that.

No, this isn’t where we stayed, but we did think about buying a luxury apartment here. This building ceratinly stands out, very vibrant.

After breakfast, we walked to pick up a bus, a Hop On Hop Off bus tour of Lisbon. We didn’t hop off and hop on again, we just stayed seated, for the whole trip around the city.

This park was named after King Edward VII who visited in 1903. The Portuguese monarchy was abolished in 1910. Pure coincidence, of course.

The English commentary on the bus was interesting but I’m still not sure it was a human voice, I strongly suspect it was computer generated, it was trying too hard to enunciate everything much more clearly than a real person would do.

The bridge over the river Tagus that we’d traversed by train was designed by the same folks who designed San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. I tried to get a decent picture from the moving bus: maybe this is where I should have hopped off for a moment.

After the two-hour bus tour, which would have been quicker if there hadn’t been so much other traffic, we went for a walk in the park looking for somewhere to eat lunch. We found a very nice place, where I was asked to take my hat off. So I did. I didn’t want to suffer the same fate as this poor creature.

I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Liesel declined my offer to buy a bottle of old port. She was right though, it was too early in the day to start knocking back the hard stuff.

Yes, we were indeed back in Eddie the 7th Park, with its views over the river. From here, it was a relatively short walk back to our hotel.

Oh wow, a lizard. It was quick, darting from one bush to another across the path, but I was quick too and just about captured it!

And what pretty flowers.

It was beautifully hot and sunny here in Lisbon, but one thing was missing. A swimming pool. We’d dipped our toes in two separate pools so far, and my mind drifted back to this refreshing swim in Caldas da Rainha just a few days ago.

I had to set the alarm for 3.00am. Got up, quick shower, packed, taxi to the airport, through security in no time. Our tickets said Easy Bdg Yes. Easy boarding. All that meant was, we could get to the place where we stood waiting for the bus a bit sooner, the bus that would take us miles across the airport to our plane. After which, it was a free-for-all to get off the bus and board the plane. Good old EasyJet.

The end of a holiday is always an anticlimax, but seeing a sunrise was the most exciting part of the flight.

We escaped from Manchester Airport quickly, a taxi took us home where we sighed. It took ten minutes to unpack and here we are, back to normal.

There is a splash of Autumnal colour in and around Northenden, as I saw on my first walk up to the coffee bar. Well, there was no milk in the house, that’s my excuse. Groceries were delivered later in the day.

Despite the rain, we went out for a walk every day. I realised, if I didn’t go out whenever it was raining this lightly, I’d possibly never see the outside world again!

Given the weather, it wasn’t surprising to see mushrooms growing on our patch of grass slash moss. What was surprising was seeing mushrooms growing in one of our car park spaces.

In the olden days, when you had a Covid jab, you had to sit and wait for fifteen minutes before they let you out. Just in case you felt bad or faint or something. Not now. We both had our latest booster, and the pharmacist didn’t even wait to see that there was no bleeding, never mind sit down and wait for a while. We were dismissed before the needle was discarded.

So we were, unexpectedly, early enough to catch up with and join the regular walkers over in Wythenshawe.

One of the real highlights of the week was seeing Miriam Margolyes on stage in Salford. Many people have recommended her new book, Oh Miriam, especially the audio version.

At The Lowry, she was in conversation with comedian Fern Brady, talking about the book, her life and as normal, she didn’t bother to censor her thoughts.

We were invited to babysit one night while Jenny and Liam went out to escape their children. I mean, to try and escape from an Escape Room while we looked after the children.

Pizza Express in Didsbury was the venue for our evening meal. They were magnificent, they ordered their meals very politely, and, best of all, they ate everything. And they were great company.

At home, we read them stories before bed, and William’s reading is coming along beautifully.

This week’s radio show is full of good advice. “Don’t do that!” Songs that tell you what not to do. But one thing you should do is listen to it here on Mixcloud.

Albufeira back to Lisbon

We’re staying in a lovey house near Albufeira. But it only felt right to go and explore the town proper. The beach looked inviting, well, apart from the ranks of chairs.

The town was old, very narrow streets and the shops of zero interest to us. It must be overwhelmingly crowded at other times of the year, but it’s still interesting to see touristy places like this.

After lunch, rather than walk back up the stairs from the beach, we took the lift. Yes, a lift from the beach to street level!

We returned to our house for a few hours, during the hottest part of the day, spending time in and out of the pool, chatted a bit, and generally relaxed as much as possible without actually falling into full siesta mode. The reason for this? A return visit to the lagoon to see the birds, specifically the flamingoes, and to watch the sunset.

Catherine brought a monocular (like binoculars, but for people who can’t afford a full pair 😉 ) and while it was good to bring the birds a bit closer, I was unable to successfully take a close-up picture of the flamingoes through it. Not enough hands.

The stork was a little closer to us today, but, all together now: I really should use my real camera with a zoom lens!

Sunset looked promising with some fascinating cloud formations. During the next hour, I took many photos. I’m only going to upload a couple of hundred here.

We walked further along the boardwalk today, before backtracking, crossing the dunes and witnessing the Sun’s departure from the beach.

There were a lot of people also here to watch the sunset. But I think the small group of people sitting around a fire, yes a fire on the beach, might have had other ideas.

I think we all spent some time in the pool during these few days, but photographic evidence is limited.

What’s better than seeing a sunset? Seeing another one the following day. So that’s what we did. But to earn that sight, we went for a walk along the clifftops first. You know Crunchie bars? Well, the orange stuff that’s covered in delicious chocolate is actually mined here.That’s what the earth looks like, anyway.

Praia da Marinha is a lovely place, the beaches looked very inviting and there were a few people in the sea.

Our hike was higher up though, looking down at the beaches yes, but also at the caves. The path unulated a bit and I found some of the climbing a bit awkward, especially knowing I’d have to come back down later on.

Some of the rocks were by now well worn from the footsteps of twenty thousand billion visitors, and it was fun spotting some of the fossils, some more obvious than others.

This schooner was by far the most interesting boat out on the water. We’d thought about joining one of boat rides to and into the caves, but having seen some of them from above, I’m glad we didn’t. They all seemed so overcrowded.

The geology of this area is interesting, and we learnt that it’s being scrunched up as Africa is moving in a northerly direction at the rate of a couple of inches a year.

Yes, of course I checked. The spines are very sharp.

The rocks and stacks changing colour as the Sun went down reminded me of the changing colours of Uluru at this time of day.

No idea who these people are, but they insisted on remaining and having fun in front of the setting Sun.

And the skies, now a water colour painting, were a fabulous way for our time with Catherine and Hans to come to an end. Thanks again for inviting us to join you here!

Catherine and Hans left us really early, bound for Germany on their way home to Alaska. After they’d departed, I went back to bed for another hour of slumber. Liesel, on the other hand, enjoyed playing in the pool.

Rubbish bins are communal here, rather than belonging to each house, so I took some rubbish down the road to dispose of. It was a nice day for a walk down the road. The walk back up, after a full breakfast, not so much! Glad I don’t have to do that every day!

We had to leave the house by 10 and the taxi took us to the railway station. And from here, the day was full of disasters. First, we had to wait a few hours for our train and we thought we’d just pass the time in the town centre. But the railway station was a long way away from all the shops. Oh well.

Liesel crocheted a sheep while we were waiting. I was less creative. I went outside to the nearby café and bought some coffee. No takeaway cups, so I carried actual china cups and saucers back to our seat on the platform.

I walked up and down a bit for some exercise. Mostly we had the place to ourselves, but a group of locals turned up and had a very loud conversation. I’m not sure they caught a train anywhere in the end. The most interesting plant at the station was probably the fig tree, even without any edible fruit on this occasion.

We knew trains were due when more people turned up, headed for Lagos or Faro. But when the Lisboa train was due, ours, that’s when the hordes really did descend on us. And we were aghast at the size of some of the cases. One person couldn’t even lift her own luggage, she had to rely on the good will of strangers.

The train wasn’t as packed as we feared, we didn’t have to fight for our reserved seats, this wasn’t Aviva after all.

I walked along the carriages to get a coffee for myself and water for Liesel. I tried to pay, as usual, with my phone. No: cash only. Oh well.

We tried not to get too excited about our arrival in Lisboa. Just as well. At Pinhal Novo station, just before ours, the police took a long time escorting some passengers from the train. I think their crime was being drunk and a bit lairy. Oh well.

Excitement built as the train crossed the very wide river Tagus.

And, at last, our stop: Entrecampos. We all stood up, got our bags down, and prepared the leave the train. The driver had other ideas though. Having been delayed earlier, I think he just wanted to get home for his tea. So he closed the doors and set off. We and dozens of others looked at each other in disbelief. Someone had words with the conductor who made an announcement in Portuguese, but all we could do was wait until the train stopped again. Oh well.

Our plan was to take the metro to our hotel, but in the end, we took a taxi, which of course, drove underneath the very railway station where we should have left the train. And what a hairy ride. Certainly the scariest, fastest, most rubbish taxi driver it’s ever been our misfortune to use. Oh well.

At the hotel, we were upgraded to a better room. Hooray! And it really is one of the best hotel rooms we’ve ever stayed in. We walked up the road for dinner, which was acceptable, nothing special, but no need to go back. Oh well.

Still, here we are, looking forward to exploring the capital.

I think Cath and Hans enjoyed the radio show which we listened to as it was broadcast on Wythenshawe Radio on Friday afternoon, they were very polite about it anyway, but if you would like to hear it, click here. What’s the theme? “I don’t know…”

Lisbon to Albufeira

While walking around in Caldas, Liesel had purchased some cough sweets for me. It was nice to be able to stop coughing for a short while. But now, in Lisbon, I had little time to think about minor medical inconveniences.

The good news is, our second bus would depart just a few bays away from where the first one had parked up. Our tickets were scanned by the driver, Liesel boarded and I had time to visit the public convenience conveniently located just another few bays away, but there was no time to visit the shop to buy anything.

When I got back to the bus, I thought it was strange that the lady driver had been replaced by a large man. But these things happen. A commotion from behind, some plonker bashing on the window, calling my name. Oops, it was Liesel. Yes, I am the plonker for very nearly boarding the wrong bus and ending up in Timbuktu or something.

The display on the bus showed that, as we proceeded in a southerly direction, the temperature outside was slowly rising.

Our final destination was Albufeira on the south coast of the Algarve region. An area visited by my baby sister Pauline half a century ago! Our friends from Anchorage, Cath and Hans, are staying here for a couple of weeks and they very kindly invited us to join them. Which is why we’re here at this time.

Hans picked us up from the bus station very quickly and took us back to his and Cath’s house a bit outside the main city centre. Hans drove a car, he didn’t literally pick us up. Not in this heat. It’s a lovely house but what drew our attention first was the pool. Having dipped our toes yesterday in David and Glen’s pool, we now had a taste for such luxury.

We sat outside and ate and chatted and watched the Moon rise, following Jupiter into the sky. We spoke about mosquitoes, but I don’t think we encountered any. And we both slept much better. Since you ask, my coughing fits were by now less frequent and less violent.

We sat around a lot but Hans drove us to see Praia dos Arrifes, a beach with cliffs and golden sands.

I found the walk along the rocky, undulating path quite difficult, because I was wearing sandals. But I managed not to trip or fall or slip or twist an ankle.

We love birdwatching and so the walk on the well-constructed boardwalk at the lagoon, Lagoa dos Salgados, was brilliant.

We have our herons at home of course, but we only usually see only one at a time. There were dozens here, some in the water, some standing by the water and many higher up, not quite hiding in the bushes.

There was one stork too, standing in the water and, best of all, a long way in the distance, flamingoes. They migrate here from Africa to enjoy a cooler Winter. Well, their timing is a little off this year, I think! It was the first time Liesel and I had seen flamingoes in the wild. But, as I say, way, way over there.

Here for the birds but we stayed for the goats and sheep, being shepherded underneath the boardwalk. Yes, of course I started singing that song from The Sound of Music.

The boardwalk came to and end, so to complete the loop, we walked over the sand dunes and back along the beach.

As always, it’s a good workout walking on sand, and through the sea when a wave deigned to wash over our feet. It was sparsely populated, and we can only imagine how busy the beach gets during the high tourist/visitor season.

On the way home, we stopped off at a supermarket. The man at checkout asked if we really wanted the pineapple, freshly imported from Azores. Well, yeah, why not? Because it costs twenty-eight euros. Blimey! Liesel gently cradled it back to the shelf.

Indoors, Hans kindly shared his bottle of beer with me, Chimay, brewed by Trappist monks in Belgium. Mmm.

Again, we sat outside chatting and watching the Moon rise, about an hour later than last night, which meant of course that we got to bed about an hour later. And we had a good kip. Followed by an early rise.

Yes, a relatively early rise. Why? So we could visit a couple of places before it became too hot. So grateful to Hans for doing all the driving, thank you!

We drove to Alte and amongst other things, we admired the many, many, many roundabouts, each adorned with a sculpture or other work of art.

These might be the only dolphins we see on this trip, but as Liesel said, it’s unlikely that anyone would drive across rather than around the roundabouts.

Alte as its name suggested, was high up in the hills, and in fact, quite hilly. Some of the street art is good fun.

It was good to see that yarn-bombing is a universal phenomenon. It looks like the local equivalent of the WI ladies have been very busy with their crochet hooks.

There is an amphitheatre, with an old stage made from stones, although I suspect some of the seating is more modern. We had a nice, easy walk, taking into account the temperature, the gradient and how our various bodies and muscles were reacting. The cobble stones were as slippery as those in Porto, and vehicles, mostly very small cars, navigated the narrow streets in a very skilful manner. We just jumped out of the way when necessary, cowering behind wheelie bins.

The colour of the earth matched the temperature beautifully, too. Here and there we saw cactus, but maybe not as many as I’d expected.

There is a castle in Silves which we visited. Another hilly place, of course!

Photos displayed in the church of St Mary, of local people, somehow hinted at an Islamic past. And, sure enough, we enjoyed picking out the Islamic geometric patterns at the castle and elsewhere.

The castle is a main visitor attraction and so was probably the busiest place we saw on this trip, apart from the bridge in Porto. We walked around the ramparts, with no safety net, something I’m sure wouldn’t be allowed in England, unless they installed railings. Being the king of the castle has its benefits, we could see for miles in every direction, buildings over there, well-organised crops over there and, best of all, if you found yourself between two of the merlons on top of the battlements, you could enjoy a nice, refreshing breeze, for a few moments.

We stayed at the castle for lunch, rather than, as originally planned, walking down the hill to a particular place, and all the way back up again! Yes, I think the need for comfort outweighed the need to walk and increase the step count. I don’t think any of us expected it to be this warm at this time of the year.

Over lunch, Liesel started telling us about Dora B Trail. The name rang a bell, maybe an old mutual school friend of theirs? But no.

Door of Betrayal

In most cases, medieval castles had several doors of different types, although small in number since these were vulnerable points of access and needed their own defence mechanisms. In fact, it was common to find multiple defensive devices associated with the doors, such as corbels with machicolation, flanking towers, pits, barbicans, etc.

As well as the main door, which connected the citadel to the old city, there was also the so-called ‘Door of Betrayal’, opening on the opposite side of the main door and with direct access to the outside, in a disguised form and with smaller dimensions. Through this access it was possible to carry out raids on the enemy, as well as to discreetly bring in military reinforcements or supplies. We cannot exclude the existence of other false doors, the purpose of which was to break up besieging forces who, after making their breach, were not led to the interior of the fortified compound, but rather to dead-end Compartments.

We decided we all need a Door of Betrayal at home too, a way to get rid of unwanted callers.

On the way home, we stopped for popsicles.

Very nice, very tasty and very refreshing. As always, we’re thinking, we must remember this place for our next visit. And next time, we’ll come a bit later in the year, when it’s cooler. And then, of course, we might be more inclined to visit the archeological museums and other venues inside. But that’s all in the future.

Porto to Lisbon

So it’s now late in the afternoon. We went for another walk, again in the direction of the river. The plan was to walk all the way back to Jardim do Morro from where we could watch the Sun set. We walked along some streets we’d not seen before. Best of all, there was even a branch of a much loved, much missed high street shop from home.

Well, I do recall the last time I visited a C&A, in London’s Oxford Steet. And on this occasion, I felt no urge to go in and buy another green coat. I was warm enough, thank you.

And as the Sun moved lower in the sky, it beautifully illuminated the local architecture.

After all this time, we are still finding churches dedicated to Saints we’d never heard of before. We found our way back to the Luis I Bridge, but this time, the upper level, along which runs the train track. We found it, yes, and so did hundreds, possibly thousands of other people, all here for the sunset. Which is strange because the Sun goes down behind buildings and trees here, it doesn’t disappear into the ocean. As each metro train passed, the bridge shook, but everyone moved away from the tracks, and only a couple of drivers had to toot their horn to warn people.

Looking up towards the gardens, we could see it was already packed, so we decided to stay on the bridge.

Watching the Sun and the people. It wasn’t a spectacular sunset, depending on your criteria, but I got a few good pictures.

No point boarding the metro here, so we walked towards home, and took public transport a bit later. For dinner, we ate at a place called Mamma Mia, a mere four-minute walk from home.

It didn’t take long to pack in the morning, but the walk up the hill to Marquês was tough!

Some of the paving stones and tiles felt quite slippery, even with my trainers on, so I can only imagine how perilous it is to walk around this hilly city when it’s been raining.

Two rides took us to the main railway station, Campanhã. Now, I don’t know if we missed a sign, or just decided to follow the wrong people, but it was a ridiculously long walk from the metro to the station. There were no signs, well, until we saw one directing us to the bus station. Then, as I was thinking maybe we should backtrack, I saw a very tiny little sign, with a titchy tiny rendition of the CP logo (Combiois de Portugal, the train operator), along with a minuscule arrow pointing up a long slope. Other people were plodding upwards, so we thought, why not?

This long haul took us to beneath the station platforms, hooray! That’s progress. While Liesel looked after the bags, I went for a wander, to try and ascertain where we should be. I found a toilet, I got some water, I saw TV screens with useful information, including the fact that our train would depart from platform 6. I also noticed that if we’d got off the metro and turned left instead of right, we would have found the station’s main entrance straightaway. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we tend to arrive at places far too early. If there’s a 50-50 chance, sorry, but I’ll get it wrong.

Our train arrived, and we found our carriage and our seats. Numbers 32 and 38. Aren’t we sitting next to each other, asked Liesel? Yes, of course we are, said I. But the seat numbering system is bizarre. I couldn’t work it out at all. But yes, 32 is next to 38.

During our trip, we had to change trains at Alfarelos. If we’d wanted to avoid the 2½ hour layover here, we could have caught the 6am train. And if we’d know what a dry, deserted, desolate place Alfarelos station is, we might have given that option some serious consideration. The Portuguese countryside was interesting but then, so was the book I was reading. But Alfarelos?

In the small café just over the road, the elderly lady had no English. My limited Portuguese deserted me so I felt bad that my request for an americano sounded so brusque, but in the heat of the moment, I forgot the words for ‘please’, ‘por favor’. As the lady wiped and swept up all around us, we realised: she’s hinting, this place is closing.

Fortunately, there was an air-conditioned waiting room at the station, and a WC, but no other facilities. And it really was too hot to walk around. 98°F, 37°C was the highest temperature we recorded. Hot, and dry, and no breeze at all.

As my addled brain carried on addling, I realised that there is a lot in common between Portugal and Japan. For instance, thank you: ‘obrigado’ and ‘arigato’. And the station announcements, even here at this small place in the middle of nowhere, are preceded by quite long, very melodic jingles, just like in Japan. And another rule or convention in both places is: no tipping.

One other couple was waiting for the same train as us. Other trains came and went. A few people came and went. One poor soul approached the ticket office, which actually was staffed. She’d caught the wrong train and needed to go back somewhere. This isn’t the sort of place you’d want to be stranded.

Our train arrived and we departed for Caldas da Rainha. The view from the window was unchanging for miles and miles. Liesel crocheted for a while, I read and did puzzles. I went for a walk, but was limited to two carriages. What I did find was that the other end of the carriage we were sitting in was much, much cooler. Its AC must have been working.

The railway station at Caldas da Rainha is very pretty, especially once you get outside.

We had to wait a while for a taxi, so I walked around a bit and decided to answer the call of nature. The toilet’s over there, in one direction, but you have to get the key to the door over there, in the opposite direction, just go to the last door. I took the key back and vastly increased my step count for the day.

The blue tile panels at the station depict various events and people from the town’s history.

The taxi arrived and took us away from the town centre, up into the hills. Some of the roads are very steep, even cars have to take a run-up, or so our driver would have us believe. Twenty five minutes later, we arrived at our destination where my brother David and his wife Glen gave us a very warm welcome and a very cold beer.

This was only the second time I’d met them both, and a first time for Liesel. They live in a large house, not quite in the middle of nowhere, but certainly not on top of the neighbours.

We sat outside and chatted for a while, drank beer, cooled off. I’d mistakenly thought it might be cooler, higher up in the hills, but no.

Apart from the main house with its many rooms and hidden nooks and crannies, there are many outhouses. In one email, I now realise, David was joking about their goats. They don’t really have any. Just one cat and a budgie.

I’d forgotten that David has a very slight Liverpool accent, and also, having lived in the Netherlands for four decades, there’s a bit of Dutch in there too.

If you’re in the area and need a lemon, this is the place to come. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a productive lemon tree. Not even my sister’s in Christchurch, sorry Pauline!

There are apple trees too and a couple of grapevines. The nearest village is a nearly half-hour walk down the hill, and we thought we’d pay a visit the following day. But after a hard day’s travel and a hard day’s night, not sleeping well because of the heat and a bleeping mosquito, but mainly because I had acquired an annoying cough, we decided to stay put and have a ‘rest day’.

And that was exactly what we needed to do, a bit of pottering about and a guided tour of the garden.

Liesel and I even donned our costumes and ventured into the pool for a while, which was very refreshing indeed. I like the Sun a lot, but even I found myself thinking ‘it’s too hot’… and I believe this lower tolerance has become worse since I had Covid that time. Sitting in the shade, trying to commit the blue skies to memory, so that the dark grey skies at home lose their hold over my mood.

David was a Japanese warrior in a previous life and he now has a collection of Japanese swords. He showed me one, which I actually touched, by mistake, but I could see how sharp it was. And during another conversation, I again realised that Portugal and Japan are natural soul mates in the sense that both have very fish heavy diets.

David likes to cook and he prepared chili con pumpkin for us. It was quite spicy. In fact, it was very spicy. Actually, there came a point when there was no more steam left to come whistling out of my ears. It was very nice and very tasty, but boy, was it hot!

Flight features a lot in David and Glens’ lives too. Glen worked for KLM for over 40 years. And David enjoys building model aeroplanes. He showed us one by dragging the box out from under the bed. It’s a Freewing A-10 Thunderbolt II “Warthog” Twin 80mm EOF jet, in case you want to order one too.

Here is an impression of what it will look like when complete. For now, none of the wiring has been connected, there is no battery nor remote control, so it won’t be flying anywhere any time soon. When complete, it will be over five feet in length and have a five-foot wingspan. It takes up far less space, in its place, in its box, under the bed!

This was our second and, for this visit, final night wih David and Glen. I’m sure there are many more family stories that we can share.
Thank you both again for your welcome and your hospitality and for the fantastic weather! But for now, time to move on.

I tried to book a taxi online, but the app didn’t work. It couldn’t allocate a driver ahead of time. And, because it therefore didn’t know who the driver would be, it couldn’t calculate the fare. Uh? Error, you can’t do that. No, but you won’t let me do anything else either! So David kindly booked a taxi from a different company for us. It arrived earlier than anticipated to take us back to Caldas, this time to the bus station.

The hour wait for our bus passed quickly enough, we each explored that part of town near the bus station while the other guarded the bags in the café. In which, they’ve been very creative with a (n apparent) random collection of leftover wall tiles. From a distance, you can see an image.

Although three buses left for Lisbon within 10 minutes of each other, we actually managed to board the correct one. In between sight-seeing through the window of the bus, we read and crocheted, guess who did what?

Just outside the capital city, we passed under this:

Ooh, exciting, an old Roman aqueduct. The map says: Arcaria do vale de Alcântara do Aqueduto. Roman? Well, some of the actual contruction workers might have come from Italy I suppose, but this is one of Portugal’s most remarkable examples of engineering from, wait for it, the seventeenth century.

We passed by another Lisbon landmark, but we’ll explore this city more fully later on.

Our main concern right now was that our bus was running a little late, we had a connection to make, and we didn’t know how far we had to walk from this bus to the next. So it was a relief to finally arrive at Lisbon’s bus station, disembark and retrieve our bags from underneath.

Did we catch the next bus? Did we reach our final destination? DUN. DUN. DUN DUN D-D-D-D- de de de di de dun de…

Turtle, trees and tiles

I’m the first to admit that I’m no fashion expert. I would never comment on whatever somebody chooses to wear. But I might laugh to myself at their outfit. A few times in Northenden, we’ve seen what, at first glance, are naked young ladies prowling the streets. They’re not really au naturel of course, but the choice of clothing is flesh-coloured, tight trousers and top. I dare you not to do a double-take when you see such a thing in your peripheral vision. And, if they’re walking along the road in front of you, how hard can it be not to take a picture? Well, very hard. An old bloke papping a young girl from behind, while walking?

She was sitting at the bus stop as I passed her and I wondered, does she know? Would I go out in flesh-coloured outerwear? Only as a dare. Or for charity. But the rest of my wander that day was uneventful.

In the evening, LIesel and I watched a chat online between Mary Beard and David Olusoga. They were talking about Roman Emperors and in particular Mary’s latest book, Emperor of Rome.

Imagine my surprise a few days later when the postman delivered a parcel. It was a copy of this very book. This very weighty tome. It’s so long since I booked tickets for the online event, I’d forgotten I must have ordered the book as well. Something to look forward to when I want something to read and something with which to build up my arm muscles.

On another occasion, I went out for a haircut. I know, there’s not much left, since I only went five minutes ago. Or so it seems. And we felt a bit sad as we walked by the empty shop formerly known as Quirky Misfits.

As we ambled along by the river, a man said to us, ‘there are no birds’. I thought he meant, there are no herons today. Which wouldn’t be a surprise. But no, he was right, there were no birds at all, no ducks on the water, not even any pigeons flying around, and no birdsong from the trees. Weird.

It was our turn to collect the children from school again this week. The first question they usually ask is, where’s the snack? When we remember, we take them a small snack from home. But right now, we’re out of snacks. We’re trying to eat everything before setting off on our trip. So, after a very civilised discussion, we took them to Head Over Heels for a snack, cake, and a couple of hours of running around and climbing and sliding.

We took them to their home for dinner because Liesel and I had a show to go to in the evening. Another pair of tickets purchased a long, long time ago. We went home and changed, then drove into Manchester parking close to the venue, Stoller Hall. The support act was Jack Badcock, and he was very entertaining, good songs and funny stories.

But the main attraction was Eddi Reader. Yes, we saw her last year in a cave, and a few times before that, but she always puts on a good show, and her set is never predictable.

Eddi’s band includes her husband John as well as Boo Hewerdine. Yes, I sang along sotto voce, except when invited to join in, when I turned my volume up to 11. No, not really. She performed Charlie is my Darlin’ and I remembered my old biology teacher, Martin Hyman, while discussing the theory of evolution, breaking into song, singing Charlie is my Darwin.

You don’t think about teachers for ages, and then two memories come along at once. The actor David McCallum sadly died this week. He played Illya Kuryakin in one of my favourite TV programmes at the time, The Man from UNCLE. So, in French lessons at school, whenever Jim Merritt used the phrase ‘il y a’, the class would respond with ‘Kuryakin’.

That’s enough about school, here’s Eddi again.

We had a good night’s sleep ahead of our travels. It didn’t take long to pack in the morning and the taxi arrived on time for our trip to the airport, Terminal 3. Check-in? Easy. Securiy check? No problem. We were through within twenty minutes and had a couple of hours to pass before boarding the plane bound for Porto. This was a first visit to Portugal for both of us.

The flight? Two and a half hours occupied by a puzzle and a good book. Remind me not to buy Ryanair coffee on board though, it tastes of plastic. I had to chew gum to take away the after-taste.

We landed just before a very quick sunset and although in retrospect, we think we bought the wrong type of ticket from the machine, we took the Metro to our place of abode for the next few days, in Porto.

One of the first things we saw out on the street was this tree, nicely swaddled in pink stuff. We saw trees similarly wrapped in many other colours too, and it was a couple of days before we found out what this was all about.

This was the view from out second storey apartment. Maria, our host, showed us all the sites and restaurants and places of interest on the map, but I’m not sure we took much in. I for one focussed on a couple of locations. We’re only here for a couple of days, after all.

We didn’t have anything in for breakfast, so we went for a walk the next morning. We knew Porto was hilly, but I took that to mean, it would undulate, you’d walk up and down in turn, stretching different muscles in turn. But no. On this first walk, we walked down and down and down.

It’s an old city and it will be nice when it’s finished. This building for instance has a decent façade, but not much going on behind.

Many of the buildings look attrcative to us because they’re covered in tiles, all sorts of patterns and colours.

It’s a Catholic country and Porto doesn’t disappoint with the number of churches and chapels.

For example, this chapel is of course quite beautiful in its own right. But the main point of interest is the faded Pillsbury Doughboy on the wall down the road a bit.

Graffiti is the same everywhere, we realise, lots of ugly tags and rude words, but with the occasional work of art. And then there’s this homespun philosophy:

Liesel admired the crochet decorating this staircase. I wonder whether there’a a local equivalent of the WI responsible?

We’d only found a few euros at home, so we thought we should get some out of a machine. The nearest ATM was half a mile from our location when we trusted our fate to Google Maps. We both extracted some cash, to confirm that both our cards would indeed work. And after this point, we saw an ATM everywhere we looked. On one street, there were four shops in a row, each with a cash machine outside.

Similarly, we didn’t come across a tourist information office. Until we did, and then there were three different ones all located on one particular corner.

There’s a big market, all under cover, where we could have bought any amount of fish and meat, fruit and cheese. I’ve never seen so many cans of sardines. I’ve never seen so many different brands of tins of sardines. In the end, we just had coffee and what turned out to be a very squishy cake. Which made my hands sticky. So I went into the facility to wash them. As I was standing by the sink, giving them a good scrub, the cleaner shouted at me, I’m guessing, to go away. I thought it was because she was about to clean that set of wash basins. But no, it turns out I was in the ladies’. Oh well.

On the top floor of the market, there is this model of the whole structure, which is built on several levels. We entered from street level on the ground floor, and left from the third floor, also at that point, at street level.

As we were walking along minding our own business. I was approached by a young man with a clipboard. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked. ‘Nein,’ I replied, putting a defensive hand up. He apologised and moved on. I’m not a fan of chuggers at home, never mind in strange cities.

We had a sit down in St Anthony’s Church, and we both lit a candle for our lost, loved ones.

As we wandered around, I was keeping count of the buskers. Until I lost count, there were so many of them. Two were playing guitars, one had a barrel organ and what appeared to be a trained pigeon dancing. We saw one singer and one saxophone player.

And on the whole, we were still walking down and down, towards the river Doura. And here we were entertained by three performers in a row. A guitar version of Coldplay’s Paradise, someone singing Elton John’s Your Song and the last guy was singing George Michael’s Careless Whisper. And there were plenty more buskers where they came from. A very musical city indeed.

We crossed the river on Ponte Luis I, and there was a guy walking along the top. We wondered whether he was going to jump in, but I suspect he just gets his kicks from watching tourists looking and pointing at him, wondering whether he’s going to jump in the river or not!

Lunch was meh, nothing special, but I had my first Portuguese beer. The views of the city, to the north of the river especially, were stunning. It is a very pretty city.

And just look at that sky! Proper sky blue. I never knew I wanted to see a turtle made out of old car tyres, until I actually saw one.

And then we took the teleferico, the gondola, to save walking up the hill.

It was a beautiful day and we were just about done walking, so we knew we couldn’t, on this occasion, hang around to see the Sun set. So we took the metro back home again.

Siesta time. I’m not sure whether I completely nodded off, but I was surprised to be woken by my phone. It was David, my brother, who by some strange coincidence lives in Portugal. And, yes, we’ll be visiting him very soon.

Time for another quick walk to a local supermarket to buy some food for dinner tonight. Cheese sandwiches and crisps, how does that sound? Suitably Portuguese? I was fascinated to see that the local authorities employed Yayoi Kusama to design the local car parking facilities.

A very nice man in the supermarket helped Liesel use the bread slicing machine. He might hang around all the time, waiting for clueless visitors. But how nice, that they trust customers to slice their own bread like that.

We walked and metroed back home again. What a wonderful first whole day in Porto, we feel well exercised. The only downer was seeing news that ‘our’ tree has been vandalised and cut down. Sycamore Gap will never be the same again. And to think we were lucky enough to visit it just four months ago.

We’re in a quiet area in Porto, we’ve just heard a couple of dogs, and the cleaners outside, but it is really quiet. So we were delighted to be serenaded by a soprano practicing her scales somewhere along the road. Liesel wouldn’t let me go out on the balcony to harmonise.

Our second and final full day started with a sort of croissant and a slice of bread accompanied by a cup of tea with no milk. We didn’t want to buy too much stuff that we’d have to lug around Portugal.

Again, when we left our accommodation, we turned right to walk downhill. Well, it’s a 50-50 chance!

We didn’t go into Clérigos Church and Tower. On another occasion, I might want to climb the tower, but not today. I was following one of my GPs’ advice: pace yourself. No need to feel uncomfortably short of breath in a strange place.

We heard the bells tell us when it was ten o’clock and part of me wondered what was the significance? Well, just a few minutes later, my phone reminded me that tickets were now on sale for Seth Lakeman in February. So I bought a couple of tickets. And the whole process was straightforward, just a bit disappointed that we never had the chance to select our own seats. And the usual whige about being charged extra for electronic tickets.

We found a fountain and Liesel thought it was a good place for a selfie. The Fonte dos Leões, the Fountain of Lions, recycles its water and is lit up at night.

Here is another Catholic Church, and the picture is composed of tiles, each hand painted and fired and, phew, glued on the wall in the right place. That would have taken some planning.

We encountered more buskers today of course. One young lady was playing slide guitar and I kept expecting her to segue into Dire Straits’ Private Investigations, but she just carried on doing her own stuff. We can’t throw money at all of these street entertainers of course, but she was the first of two today. The other one was this guy dancing with a life-size doll.

He had some good moves and she just followed him around, the expression on her face not changing at all.

Liesel had read something about freak, deformed trees in Porto. We found them in the park, Jardim da Cordoaria.

I think they’re London Plane trees, but it does depend who you believe. They’re certainly different to the plane trees in actual London. They may have been cut back and regrown, or they may be affected by fungus, there are many stories. Also in this park, you can see a set of sculptures featuring jolly gentlemen being daft. So of course, I had to join them.

This turns out to have been the final work by sculptor Juan Muñoz who died in 2001. Thanks for the laughs, Juan.

We carried on walking and when looking west, thought, wouldn’t it be nice to see the Sun set? Yes, but it’s a bit hazy in that direction. Well, all the better for a nice red sunset!

We came across this graffiti, whch turns out to be world famous. After a ridiculous amount of time on Google, it seems that it just means ‘Tagging is not dead’. Well, some of us wish tagging were dead, and the space left for other artwork.

We passed this statue a couple of times. It depicts a local bishop from about a hundred years ago. He’s very angular, isn’t he? But what really caught my eye was the fact that he’s wearing spectacles.

I had a strange synaesthetic experience today. Usually, my synaesthesia is confined to ‘seeing’ flashes of colour when I hear a sudden crash or bang. But today, when I first saw this pattern of paving stones…

… I immediately ‘heard’ the sound of fireworks going off, phweee… very strange. Also, I wasn’t feeling tired nor stressed at this point, which is when I am normally suscepible to such phenomena.

Time for a coffee and cake? Of course. We sat inside to avoid the coach party and the smoker that arrived and sat outside as we were queueing. It was nice to sit down for a while. And the coffee was so good, I had a second, which is also very unusual for me.

Liesel had some work to do, so we decided to return to base. A short walk and a short metro ride and another short walk later, here we are. When we disembarked at Marquês, we spent some time looking at the colourfully wrapped trees and other displays of colour. It’s all part of an art installation called Chromatic Emotions – Porto ’23.

I do like this one, and it’s only enhanced of course by some supermodel photo-bombing.

Back in doors, Liesel worked while I wrote, we had some lunch, listened to some bloke called Mick the Knife on the radio and then played some other music.

Yes, this week’s show was Friends and Friendship and you can catch it here, if you missed it by accident when it was broadcast on Wythenshawe Radio.

Center Parcs

Our next adventure? Yes, a week in Center Parcs with Helen, Jenny, Liam, Martha and William. The seven of us were to occupy a single lodge in the holiday village in Sherwood Forest, the first to open, in 1987. So it’s the same age as Helen. Any plans I had for a long, luxurious lie-in were put on hold for a few days.

Liesel and I rose early, finished our packing and set off for Jenny’s house. There, we loaded two cars with people and enough stuff for six months. Or so it seemed: I think most of the paraphernalia was for the children. Including their bikes which we mounted on the back of our car.

Quite rightly, Martha was concerned that the bikes might fall off on the journey. We reassured her that the straps would hold them in place. Telling her that if the bikes fell off, then so would the back door of the car, well, in retrospect, maybe that wasn’t what she needed to hear.

The weather looked promising and the two-hour drive was straightforward, over and around the Peaks and into Nottinghamshire. The one and only other time I’d been to Sherwood Forest was in about 1984, for work. I remember being pestered by wasps at the pub.

After arriving and checking in at the main gates, we ate lunch in the Village Square. I know a few people who have taken short breaks at Center Parcs, but I didn’t really know what to expect. It’s a large community of about 400 acres in the middle of the forest. Other than driving to the lodge to unload the car, and reloading a few days later, cars aren’t allowed on the roads. Which leaves the park free for the enjoyment of cyclists, pedestrians, buggies, skaters and scooterers. Even on our first little walk to the village square, I was surprised and delighted to see squirrels and moorhens and geese and ducks.

4pm was the time to unload the vehicles. Jenny entered the lodge first, catching a member of staff putting her feet up for a few minutes. Oops.

I don’t know how many bags and cases and boxes we carried in for the seven of us, but then I recall that when Liesel and I went away for just a couple of days at Christmas, we had 16 bags.

I thought this oak tree was hundreds of years old, but no, it was planted in the late 19th century. Why is it crooked? The strange ‘wolf’ tree form was created in the mid-20th Century when it was about 90 years old and the largest tree in the forest. Pine trees were planted around the oak and as they grew, their canopies covered over the oak’s branches. To reach the warmth of sunlight the gnarly old oak opened its boughs wide and twisted them between the pine canopies. When Center Parcs arrived, the pines were removed giving the oak unimpeded access to daylight. Neither William nor I climbed the tree.

We had an early dinner, my kind of meal really, lots of snacks, nibbles, crackers, falafels, pita chips, spinach dip. We’d planned to go swimming afterwards, so I was conscious that I shouldn’t eat too much: no need to sink on the first day.

The pool area is big and even in the evening, very busy, lots of families, lots of children and, I’m pleased to say, I wasn’t the oldest person there.

Martha and William encouraged me to go on The Rapids. As the name suggests, you’re taken down a slide, with multiple turns and bumps and plunges. What I didn’t anticipate was getting cramp in one toe. Which meant, I was even more out of control of my body, I kept bumping into Liam, I couldn’t apologise enough, but I couldn’t stop either, in the fast flowing water, to give my foot a chance to sort itself out. The third and final section was horrible too. Most of the water went up my nose. Glad I did it, but no need to do it again. Maybe just the first section.

We queued for the Grand Cascade boat ride. You hold onto the circular boat as it, relatively gently, travels down a 600-metre shute. At the end of a very enjoyable ride, everyone climbed out of our vessel, including William. ‘Are you alright?’ asked the lifeguard as I floundered in the boat, which was now half full of water. ‘Yeah, grandson just stomped on my nuts’, I explained.

We went to bed later than I’m now used to, but even so, it took ages for us to fall asleep. First night in a new place and new bed is always a challenge of course, but I think I’d ODed on caffeine too.

One of the benefits of still being awake at around midnight was that I heard owls hooting outside. Next time, I laughingly told myself, I’ll go out and see if I can see one.

The next morning, Liesel rose early and went for a walk around the village. I would (maybe) have joined if I’d been awake. Martha and William fed the geese and ducks that visited our back door. The bird food is supplied, and the birds know it. And so do the squirrels! Also queueing for free food was a blackbird, more baby moorhens and of course, pigeons.

We went for a swim in the morning and it was much busier than last night. In fact, it was so crowded that at one point, I had to get away from the throng and go for a walk around the pool area. I don’t know how many tens of thousands of steps remain unaccounted for because of course I didn’t have my pedometer with me.

In other news, today marked a very significant anniversary. Never mind D-Day in 1944. Or the UK referendum which continued our membership of the EEC. No, on 6th June, 1973, I went into school to sit one of my A-level exams. Halfway through, I just got up and ran to the toilets. I’d been having stomach pains for a few days. The GP had put it down to ‘exam nerves’. I know what exam nerves feel like, and this was totally different. But in those days, the doctor knew best.

Somehow, I got home, Mum took me to see the doctor and thank goodness it was a different one. A quick examination confirmed: appendicitis. Dad was at Epsom, enjoying Derby Day, so Mum came to hospital with me, in the ambulance.

I was told later that my appendix was removed ‘just in time’. A black shrivelled up thing was how it was described.

During my ten days in hospital, I sat one more exam, invigilated by my then maths teacher, Jenny Nelson. Whom I still feel bad about, because I never thanked her properly.

It never occurred to me in that hospital bed, during a hot Summer, that fifty years later, I would be having a holiday with my children and my grandchildren.

After lunch, we walked over to the Aerial Adventure. All the girls signed up for this challenge, us boys volunteered to take pictures. To be fair, I think William would have joined in but he’s just not quite tall enough this year.

The adventure entails walking among the treetops, on wobbly boards, through a tunnel, and negotiating various other obstacles before the final zip wire ride across the lake.

Liam and William took a boat out onto the lake and I thought I’d stay on land to get some different photos.

Sadly, my videos were no good. I blame it on the fact that my new phone behaves differently to the old one. Nevertheless, it was quite exciting to see Jenny, Liesel, Helen and Martha fly over the lake, shrieking with enjoyment.

In the evening, we dined at Las Iguanas, where I was surprised to see that many of the waiting staff were robots. They carry the food to your table, and a real human (or so I believe them to be) serves it up to us customers.

Later in the evening, Liesel and I were relaxing on the sofa, when Christmas appeared.

Good night, Merry Christmas, sleep well!

After breakfast, the children wanted to swim again but Liesel and I decided to take a day off. Liesel had some work to do, and as regular readers will be aware, I was a long, long way behind with this blog. So after watching Martha and William play in the Pirate’s Cove for a while, Liesel and I went and sat in the café that overlooks the rapids, where we drank coffee, typed and observed.

Jack-in-the-pulpit, or Arisaema Triphyllum, to use its botanical name, is a perennial wildflower native to north America. It’s sometimes called a bog onion. Which, as the sign says, is quite appropriate, because this one is in fact a urinal, which I think all us gents were too intimidated to use.

Today’s adventure for the children was the climbing walls. I think they both did remarkably well, climbing several different walls, each with its own challenges. I wouldn’t have climbed nearly as high, even knowing the safety equipment was in proper working order.

Later in the afternoon, I went for a solo wander over to the Nature Walk. I followed well-made paths, walked through the trees, and was glad to be away from people for a short while. So what wonders of nature did I behold on this special trail? One rabbit, one squirrel and, er, some pretty flowers.

On our last full day here, I got up early, finished writing and posted the blog. Liesel decided to work again, while I went swimming with everyone else. I say swimming, but the pool isn’t designed for serious swimming, it’s too busy and the wrong shape. So when I say I swam two lengths, it’s not that impressive, really.

Liesel and I took the children to the playground in the afternoon. Two playgrounds in fact. The first one was for 8-13 year olds, and so the equipment was quite a stretch for both of them.

Later on, time for 10-pin bowling. I didn’t participate because my back has been giving me gip on and off for a couple of weeks. Jenny didn’t play either, because of her knee issues. Being a mere observer, I couldn’t help but notice there was definitely a slight camber to the left hand side, that’s where most of the errant bowls ended up.

The weather had been OK all week, but a couple of extra degrees would have been nice. We enjoyed our walk, or in the case of the children, bike ride, to the venue for our evening meal. There’s a maze here too which Martha and William enjoyed running around, and, taking a cue from their Dad, jumping over the low fences!

After the best night’s sleep of the week, and a quick breakfast, it was time to pack up, move out and move on. Liesel volunteered to retrieve the car from the car park and when I saw it, decorated with a thick layer of pollen, I finally understood why some of us had been suffering from hay fever all week.

It took several trips to carry all the bags and cases and boxes from the lodge to the cars. And, because we had a long way to drive home later, I thought it would be nice to see where we were going, so I washed the pollen off the cars’ windows.

On our first day here, William and Martha drew on the blackboard in the lodge, and I am glad I can preserve the artwork here:

Oh, and it wasnt a lodge after all, it was a ‘villa’! At least, according to the sticker warning of the deep water nearby.

There was time for one final swim in the morning. The first time William saw this shute, slide, whatever it is, he took a few seconds before deciding not to go on it. Just a few days later, and he was sliding down, very fast, time after time. As was Martha.

I managed to get a video of the family at the end of a Grand Cascade Boat Ride.

After our final meal, this time at the Pancake House, we set off for home. It seemed to be a long drive, with lots of traffic and loads of hold-ups. But we still made it back to Cheadle in time for Martha and William to attend their cricket club. Yes, they’re learning the skills of the gentlemen’s game. I was glad to see they don’t use a real cricket ball though: I’m still wary of those things from my own school days.

When Martha wasn’t required to bowl or wield a bat, she entertained us by doing handstands out in the field.

After dropping the bikes and other paraphernalia off at Jenny’s house, Liesel and I went home. Hot, tired, and very happy. We’d had a lovely, fun time with the family.

A bonus was that during the two-hour drive, Liesel and I listened to Wythenshawe Radio, and there was a fascinating show about Parks. Mick the Knife presented it and you can catch it here.

Steel Rigg to Gilsland to Irthington to Carlisle to Bowness on Solway

After leaving the Twice Brewed Inn, we had to retrace our steps to pick up Hadrian’s Wall Path again. First though, let’s take some photos outside.

And, a little bit later, I took the opportunity to cut Liesel’s chin off again.

We made good progress and enjoyed the views. Looking back on one occasion, Liesel spotted a small animal poking its nose out of the wall. The stoat emerged, ran across the field and disappeared into the distance. How exciting to see a wild animal rather than a farmyard favourite.

We passed Winshields, the halfway point and highest position on Hadrian’s Wall. This wasn’t the time nor place for a big party to celebrate, though. Still: all downhill from here then, right? No, no and thrice no. In fact, very shortly afterwards, at the top of another hill, we came across a trig point.

From this point heading west, the Roman Wall was much narrower than it had been. It seems it was taking too long to complete the massive building project, so the legionnaires found a way to make quicker progress. So fast in fact, that they left behind bags of stones and rocks that can still be found today. Jyoti tried to shift one, but other than make us laugh, her efforts were in vain.

Jyoti’s over the shoulder boulder holder

The Wall itself is a dominant feature, but there are plenty of other features.

I like the fact that at each of these forts and turrets, there’s a descriptive sign showing us what the structure used to look like. Many of the missing stones have been used over hundreds of years to build other walls, houses and barns. Recycling at its best. A good example is shown here. The old Roman stones are being used to protect the more worn paths, especially on the slopes.

Today’s route, though shorter, was also described as strenuous. And indeed it was. I find it easier to climb than to descend, since I don’t have very good depth perception, looking down. Still being tired from yesterday didn’t help. Snack and drink water frequently, little and often, are the very basic but sensible customs to follow. Take your time. I followed all the rules and yet after this particularly hard, steep descent, carefully and slowly making my way down the uneven steps, I realised I’d had enough. I bonked. I hit the wall. I had to have a lie down for a while. In retrospect, a bit embarrassing but at the time, I just wanted to stop. In my stupor, I tried to summon up a rescue helicopter.

To be fair, Liesel and Jyoti aren’t laughing at my predicament, but I am so grateful for their support, feeding and watering me like I’m an old nag destined for the glue factory. Teresa and Tammy at this point were quite far ahead and it made sense for them not to wait for us.

After a while, I was able to continue. Slow and steady. Northumberland National Park needs our help. They want us to let them know of all the reptiles we encountered: vipers, slow worms and lizards. Well, my personal total was zero, so that won’t take too long.

Walltown Crags. The crags would have been a challenge to climb, so I’m glad our path went in the opposite direction. Thirlwall Castle was quite an imposing sight. There was a short hill which I decided to pass on. Liesel and Jyoti went up for a closer look while I had a rest on the stone direction sign, which probably didn’t help those folks hiking in the opposite direction to us.

Soon after this, another wildlife bonanza. We saw bunnies and a family of geese with a cute little gosling. It was about this point when I realised how flexible miles are in this area. 3 miles to go. Walk for half an hour. Then another sign saying 3 miles to go. Later, Google Maps suggests 1.8 miles to go. We met a hiker who was carrying a huge backpack. He said he’d walked 18 miles so far today and had a couple of hours to go. I kept schtum, I didn’t want to tell him how hard I’d found the last several miles. But he was philosophical about the whole thing: “The pain’s constant but the views change”.

1.5 miles to our destination, Gilsland. A couple of bridges, a burn, and we thought we were getting close. Liesel called Teresa to say we were close, about a quarter of a mile away. Teresa said it’s probably nearer three quarters.

Brookside Villa must be the most attractive b&b in the whole world. At least, it was today, to me. Right place, right time.

Liesel and I were given the penthouse suite, which meant walking up more stairs. But when I got up at about 1.30am for my usual nocturnal biological demands, I noticed, through the skylight, a nice dark sky and stars. I was so excited, despite being tired and it being the middle of the night, that I got my phone and took a picture of The Plough or Big Dipper. Not the most exciting astrophotography, I know, but I was happy. Not so happy about knocking a glass of water over in the process, but stuff happens.

The day we walked from Gilsland to Irthington wasn’t marked as strenuous. And after yesterdays’ incident, I was quite prepared to walk more slowly if necessary, and I definitely programmed myself to eat and drink more often.

Over the course of their occupation, the Romans built three bridges over the River Irthing at Willowford, each more sophisticated than the previous one.

What an astonish feat of design and construction. Imagine then our slight disappointment when, to cross the river, we had to walk across this modern one. Built in 1999 and I doubt there’ll be evidence of it in 1700 years’ time.

It was a lovely warm day, and so quite refreshing occasionally to take shelter in the woods for a minute. I felt very lucky not to be suffering from blisters on my feet, but the four lambs had to deal with this issue to a lesser or greater degree. While tending to their wounds, I snacked and imbibed.

I’m sure this fallen log has a few tales to tell, but I chose a different one to perch on. Out in the countryside, a few birds and animals hung around, but the biggest surprise was coming across an Honesty Snack Shed. Snacks and drinks for sale, and an honesty box for the payment.

The signs continue to inform and educate, but ridiculous as it sounds, I did find myself thinking sometimes, ‘another one’? We agreed that it would be nice if they could reconstruct one of these forts fully, since all we see in general are just a few layers of stones giving an idea of the building’s layout.

Piper Sike, Turret 51a, a frontier watchtower. This was a stone tower built by the
Emperor Hadrian’s army around AD 122. It originally stood within the turf section of Hadrians Wall which extended 31 Roman miles (44km) from the river lrthing to Bowness-on-Solway. After a few years the turf was replaced by a stone wall part of which abuts the turret’s west wall.

We made friends with a couple of donkeys named Hamish and Dougal. Naturally I asked ‘You’ll have had your tea?’ (Look up I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue and indeeed Hamish and Dougal’s own shows on Radio 4, some now on YouTube.)

And so it came to pass, no, that’s not right… And so, we came to pass Hare Hill, a precious fragment of Hadrian’s Wall, at the same time as a couple of ladies approached from the opposite direction. Megan and her friend were walking from west to east and this was excitingly their first sighting of the Wall. Which meant, it was to be our last. From now on, the Wall would be hidden from us, even if we were actually walking on top of it.

Another thing you don’t expect to find in the middle of nowhere is a shop selling t-shirts. I didn’t buy one, but this one summarises the whole walk quite nicely, I think.

Someone who deserves at least a knighthood is the man (and I’m sure it was a man, no woman would be so daft) who walked the length of Hadrian’s Wall one day some years ago, planting nettles underneath nearly every gate and stile making passage that much more difficult, especially for those of us with bare legs trying to squeeze through a small gap.

Time for another sit down.

Look/Seek for something Beautiful every day

Walking via Newtown, a hamlet very proud of its Cumbria in Bloom awards between 2008 and 2014, we walked down to The Sally in Irthington. Amy supplied ice for Jyoti’s ankle and generally looked after us.

All week, in fits and starts, Liesel has been crocheting a jellyfish. She attached the final tentacles this evening and gave it to Amy who was delighted.

From our room, we could hear sheep and so sleep came very easily.

After walking on grass and mud for many miles, your feet do notice how hard an asphalt road surface is, especially towards the end of the day.

On the morning of Day 7, we had to backtrack a bit to pick up the trail again. Breakfast was big. I think the cook wasn’t used to vegetarian breakfasts, so over-compensated by giving me two huge tomatoes, three veggie sausages (that were disappointing), two eggs, no hash brown, a bowl of baked beans and (cold) guacamole which didn’t do anything for me. Plus toast. I couldn’t eat it all, but I still felt stuffed.

It was a lot more humid today too, so we were all sweating a bit. Jyoti suggested writing a limerick to mark the occasion. Walking, talking, stalking, looking around and gawking, lots of rhymes, but no single decent poem emerged.

We noticed sheep and cattle were sharing a field in some places. They stayed in their own groups or herds and there was no sign of fighting over a particularly juicy clump of grass.

We thought we’d seen the end of Hadrian’s Wall, but no. We were surprised to see a small section constructed, not from stones, but from old chariot tyres. They’re in pretty good nick for being nearly 2000 years old.

The vallum is the ditch that runs alongside the Wall, another defence against the Picts or Celts from the north.

We stopped at Crosby Church for a break, and the first gravestone I saw was that of an 18-year old girl who’d died in 2005. I want to know her story. But at the same time, I don’t. Very sad, in any case.

A wannabe topiarist had a good go at this shrub, but they need a slightly taller ladder, methinks.

After Crosby, I became aware of a much more diverse chorus of birdsong. I couldn’t identify some of them and my app, Chirp-o-Matic, only suggested three or four candidates. We heard a lot, but didn’t see very many close up. We did see flowers though.

I think it’s Scotch broom, very similar to gorse but without the thorns. And, of course, we’re never too far away from sheep, even when they try to hide behind a bush.

The river Eden would be our guide for a while as we walked by fields with row after row of polythene sheets, underneath which they’re growing, what, potatoes? I didn’t peek.

Later on, in the middle of a field, we saw another Roman fort. No, not really. What is it? Too small to be a grain store. Can’t be defensive, even with those small windows to shoot arrows through.

After a thorough, in-depth investigation, we learn that it’s a folly, and possibly a dovecote built c.1835, for George Head Head, in the grounds of Rickerby House. The tower is Grade II listed. George Head Head, now that’s someone we should know more about, not to mention his parents’ sense of humour.

Rickerby Park on the approaches to Carlisle was pleasant, and a perfect opportunity for a selfie.

We easily found our b&b which is called either Langley or Langleigh, depending on whether you believe the paperwork or the engraved stone gate post.

After dining at the Thai place in Carlisle, Jyoti walked out of her skirt. No video available. Ironic, because just a couple of days ago I’d told the story about Mrs Winter. She was the cleaner in the hall of residence where I lived in my first year at uni. You knew she was coming because of her distinctive tread. Both of her shoes squeaked but at a different pitch. One day, Nick and I happened to be following her along the corridor when her drawers fell down, squ-squeak, squ-squeak, and she just carried on and walked right out of them. There’s no video of that occasion either.

Liesel thinks her triceps are bulging now after using the walking poles for so many days. I’m sure she said Poley Moley when she noticed.

There were so many sheep in so many fields. I tried counting them but I kept falling asleep, which isn’t ideal when you’re trying to walk a long way.

On arrival at Langleigh, we couldn’t get into our rooms. Somehow, someone had double-locked the door and closed it. The only solution was to break the lock on that door. It was Sunday and so locksmiths were hard to come by. I felt bad for Yvette and Norman, but I also felt useless, there was nothing I could do to help.

Langleigh has been a b&b for 50 years, and it still retains some of that ’70s vibe. Candles were lit for breakfast, to illuminate the many, many bird ornaments and pictures that adorn the place.

There was no need to pack here in the morning for the haulage company because we’d be staying at this b&b for a second night. Carlisle isn’t that far from home, yet we’d never been before, so Liesel and I agreed to come back and explore the city properly one day.

The Sun rose on our 8th and final day walking the Hadrian’s Wall Path. It was to be the longest in distance, 15 miles along the river Eden to its confluence with the Solway, fairly flat with some undulation. The most boring section perhaps was a very long, dead straight road that might well have been Roman in origin.

But well before then, I must admit I was amused by the precision of some of the signposts.

I forgot to pack a tape measure, otherwise I might have checked it really was 236 yards.

On the first set of steps, I noticed I had calf muscles for the first time that day. We saw a lot of flowers, wild and cultivated, but sadly, very few insects. We didn’t mind not having to bat away thousands of flies like we did for a couple of days, but a few more butterflies and bees would have been nice.

We walked through what can only be described as the most sheep-shittiest field of the whole trip today. The sheep gave us funny looks as we tip-toed across their lunch. But at least we’re not taking a dump on our own dinner plates.

The directions said ‘turn left’ after the church, We did, and encountered the narrowest path of the whole trip.

Yes, there were nettles here too and somehow I managed to force myself through without being stung.

Another thing I don’t think any of us expected to find this week was a zip wire. But we did, at Beaumont Parish Hall. Did we have a go? Not all of us, but…

And we’re still finding interesting wildlife.

St Michael’s Church at Burgh-by-Sands made us welcome, even if, due to our own incompetence, we couldn’t find the supply of tap water, as advertised!

This twelfth century church was built with stones from the Roman Wall nearby. King Edward I came here to cross the Solway and subdue the rising under Robert the Bruce. He died on the marsh and was brought into the church to lie in state on 7 July 1307. The fortified tower was a refuge during the border raids.

The Eden joined the Solway and we saw Scotland for the first time, another landmark.

After our lunch break, we walked along the flood protection bank. I took a detour into a field where I was able to water the nettles. After which I had to briefly abandon the bank, due to a herd of cows. They were on the bank, in the ditch, walking backwards and forwards along and across the road. They weren’t at all aggressive, just a little intimidating being there in such numbers.

This was the long, dead straight road I mentioned earlier, a perfect opportunity for an entrepreneur to install a travelator.

The big disaster of the day? My shirt sleeve got caught on a hawthorn branch.

Next time we do this walk, we’ll record all the squeaky springs on all the gates and make a symphony. And we should include that bloke’s squeaky shoes too, from Day 4 or 5.

And, we’ll plan to walk both ways if it’s hot and sunny. East to west means the Sun beautifully tans the left arm. Walking back to Newcastle will darken the right arm, restoring that lovely feeling of symmetry.

I commented earlier on the flexible miles in this part of the world. We started the day knowing we had a 15-mile walk. As the day progressed, the signs told of a dimishing distance between Carlisle and Bowness.

It was good to see some seabirds on the beach around Port Carlisle. Some oyster catchers and some little or common ringed plovers, but they were a long way off. I must get a zoom lens for my phone.

Bowness on Solway. Never has the sight of a sign brought so much joy!

And yes, just a short while later, the five of us reached the end of the road.

Welcome to the end of Hadrian’s Wall Path

There were two rubber stamps to add to our passport. Except we didn’t have a passport and hadn’t seen most of the other rubber stamps along the way. I didn’t even have any paper. So, while celebrating on the rocky beach, I picked up a stone as a souvenir, and stamped it.[*]

Cantum meum canto
air seolaidhean-mara na Salmhaigh
leyke a sky-reydin burd
my heart soars high

As you walk down to the beach from the Welcome hut, there’s a handrail that bears a poem. The four lines of the poem along the handrail represent the cultural influences on Bowness on Solway: Roman Latin, Scots Gaelic, Cumbrian dialect and English. In English the poem reads:

I sing my song
of the Solway tides
like a sky-riding bird
my heart soars high.

What a perfect end to the walk. Just a short way to go now to the King’s Arms Inn for a welcome drink. We’d been cheersing each other all week, 10 opportunities to break a glass each time, but it never happened.

The barmaid (sorry if that’s not her official title, it does seem a bit old-fashioned) was kind enough to order a taxi to take us back to our b&b. Strangely, we didn’t have it in us to walk back to Carlisle.

The cab arrived and took us straight to our b&b. In the evening, we dined at The Thin White Duke. We were expecting to be entertained by the music of David Bowie, but disappointingly, that didn’t happen. There were just a couple of allusions to the great man, but the meal was great.

Jyoti managed to walk back without shedding any clothes on this occasion. We did some ironing before going to bed.

One more good night’s sleep before going home.

I’m sure we’re all very proud of our achievement, it was a fascinating, interesting and sometimes challenging hike across the country. If I do anything like this again, I hope it’s in the company of four beautiful, young, funny, supportive American women. Thank you very much, lambs!

A spot of time travel here. This week’s radio show was, inevitably, themed around Walls. You can listen here if you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio. Songs about Walls; the album of the week is Two Hearts by Mary Hopkin and Jessica Lee Morgan but that’s not all! The four lambs each picked a song to play.

[*] Sadly, the ink stamps on the stone faded very quickly, they’re totally illegible. So, if you do this hike, or any other similar one, don’t forget to take some paper so you can collect the stamps.