Travels – Page 8 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

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.

East Wallhouses to Chollerton to Steel Rigg

What a cliff-hanger at the end of the last post, eh? I left us standing outside the Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses. The rhythm of the week was to be breakfast, walk, shower, dinner, sleep, breakfast, walk, shower, dinner, sleep and so on, leaving no time, nor energy, to write much at the end of the day.

One of the joys we missed out on throughout the trip was collecting rubber stamps. An organised person would have brought a little book or passport along to stamp at various points along the route. Not me. Unusually, I didn’t even have any scraps of paper with me. On the other hand, the compulsion to find a stamp at each point wasn’t there.

Hadrian’s Wall Walk was well signposted, we all looked out for the identifying white acorn, as seen on the stamp box above. Our guide book was ‘Hadrian’s Wall Path’ by Henry Stedman. It’s very detailed in terms of where to go and what to look out for, so I won’t repeat all that information here. But, if you’re tired, I suppose you could easily miss one vital turn, and end up in Scotland or Yorkshire. But I’m pleased to say, that didn’t happen to us. On this occasion.

As I mentioned, on this third day we followed a main road, but we walked on grass and well-worn paths rather than the hard surface. It was interesting to find that the road was actually on top of the wall in places. An excavation revealed the wall, and was left open for us visitors to enjoy.

Trying to explain semaphore to Americans was… challenging. David Bailey here wanted them to replicate the Beatles’ Help album cover picture.

When we say ‘Jyoti is in the bricklayer’s arms’, we don’t mean she’s having a quick pint down at the local. No, we met Gavin, a dry-stone wall builder with 28 years’ experience. Jyoti was very excited to be allowed to lay a stone. So, if this wall collapses soon, you know who to blame. Actually, it was interesting to meet a real craftsman.

Some fields are full of sheep and evidence of sheep, but we did find some untainted meadows too.

We arrived at the George Hotel Inn, Chollerford, ready for a lie down and a shower before dinner.

We were warned that Day 4 was the most strenuous stage, as well as being the second longest at 12 miles. So after breakfast, we all took a deep breath and set off in a westerly direction, marvelling at the weather which was ideal.

On the hill leading to the Temple of Mithras, we came across some very pretty flowers.

I wouldn’t have identified them as orchids, but I’m very grateful to the more botanically aware member of our team.

As well as looking down while walking, avoiding obstacles and holes and manure, and looking around at signs of the Wall and its forts and lookout towers, we were admiring the views, to the north and to the south.

We encountered flies of many species, some copulating, but for some reason, the cavern that is my mouth was particularly attractive to them. A sign, yes, that I was breathing through my mouth due to the increased exertion today.

Brocolitia, the Roman Temple of Mithras, was fascinating, and a good pace to have a bit of a rest. Mithras, rather aptly is an anagram of what was quite a presence in the surrounding fields.

The Temple was built in about 200 AD, about 1823 years before Tammy paid a visit.

We encountered many people every day on the walk. Quite a few were, like us, taking 8 days or so to hike the whole route, while some others were obviously day-trippers. Many nations were represented, UK, USA, Canada, Norway, Germany, not to mention Manchester. Everyone says hello, some stop for a quick chat. And some were carrying ridiculously huge, heavy backpacks. Our bags were carried from venue to venue by a local haulage firm: all we had to do was make sure they were ready by 9 o’clock each morning.

Near Sewingshields Crags, we witnessed a lovely display of sheep herding. Most of the flock moved down the hill, but three stubborn sheep remained lying down, enjoying a late lunch of grass. The shepherd, on his 4-wheel-drive vehicle, didn’t notice them, and none of his dogs seemed to be that interested either. The five of us and many others observed from above, and one of the dogs ran right through the crowd. I think he may have been a trainee, misunderstanding the whistled commands.

We stopped at Housesteads Fort. This is the only part of Hadrian’s Wall that Liesel and I had visited before, once with Liesel’s parents. We arrived at the top end of the fort, and the car park was way off in the distance. No wonder Klaus was complaining on that occasion!

It was indeed a challenging hike today, it certainly had its ups and downs. Literally. But I think the hardest part were the dozens of stiles we had to climb over. Stiles, ladderstiles, some wood, some stone, some with very high climbs, not easy with old, tired lallies towards the end of a long day! We prefer gates, and we encountered mostly kissing gates.

More hills and crags and a lough before we reached Sycamore Gap. Here resides, apparently, the most photographed tree near Hadrian’s Wall, mainly because of its starring role in the film Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. It’s a mere 20-minute horse ride from the white cliffs of Dover to this tree, according to the film. It’s not a documentary, then.

And a couple of hours later, what a beautiful, welcome sight. Our Steel Rigg digs for the night.

Inside, a signpost confirmed that we were (just) over halfway in our journey:

Today, we’d climbed the equivalent of 56 floors, according to some marvellous technology owned by Teresa, Tammy, Jyoti and Liesel. My pedometer just counts my steps and, for the first time in a few years, I exceeded 43,000 in one day.

Jumping ahead in time, the radio show this week is a celebration of Jenny’s very special birthday. With some very special guest appearances too. You can listen to the show here. Happy birthday, Jenny!

Newburn to East Wallhouses

It will take a while to adapt to these early starts. No lie-ins for a while. Our breakfast girl was very friendly and bonny and we fueled up well before setting off for Day 2.

Tyne Riverside Country Park was very quiet, apart from the birds and the wind rustling through the trees. Yes, we heard the odd loud vehicle, but that didn’t detract from our enjoyment of the countryside and the fresh air.

A lot of the path was along a disused railway line, so very straight for long periods.

Every now and then, we caught a glimpse of a bright yellow field, rapeseed. Glimpse? The yellow flowers just draw your gaze, they’re so bright.

We encountered our first serious hills today too. Nothing too onerous, I just find a rhythm and stick to it, until I have to stop or change my pace. I think we all have our optimum speeds on different terrain, but on the whole, our group of five stuck together very well.

Heddon-on-the-Wall: I wonder why it was so-called? We followed a sign and snuck behind a hedge and saw the first secton of Roman Wall that we knew to be genuine. This was an exciting moment for us!

One thing they’re not short of in the north of England is sheep.

Lots of lambs, and a surprising number of twins, as far as we could see. Sometimes though, the sheep looked a bit other-worldly.

At the risk of repeating myself, the views were spectacular today.

But never mind the views of the landscape, one thing I noticed was that in just two days, Tammy had gone through five different hairstyles. And while we ate dinner later on, a sixth one, a French plait executed by Jyoti, was on display!

It rained very slightly and ponchos and raincoats and backpack covers were deployed. Thankfully, it didn’t last long and we arrived at our final destination for the day, the Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses.

Our tired and achy bodies enjoyed a drink and a meal before taking to bed early.

As the week went on, the walking days became longer, and so I neglected this blog. I will catch up properly when we get home.

I know you’ll want to know about this week’s broadcast Wythenshawe Radio show, which I recorded a long time ago now, or so it seems. The theme was,of course, Walking and you can listen right here.

The same guy that served us last night brought our breakfasts this morning. I don’t think he has a home to go to. But he did very kindly take a group photo for us outside the Robin Hood Inn.

Thanks Tammy for the picture!

Most of the walk that day followed a main road, the B6318, so traffic noise was a potential problem. But in the end, it wasn’t such a big deal. The path stayed close to the road, with a wall or something separating us. It was sometimes muddy, sometimes grassy, and on the whole, much more comfortable to walk on for long stretches than the road itself.

To be continued…

Northenden to Newcastle to Newburn

One day to go before our next Big Adventure and I spent a couple of hours prepping the next radio show. I’ll be away from the Home Studio for a while and I’ll only have a small window of opportunity to finish it before the deadline. Apart from that, packing the right amount of stuff was the order of the day.

We’re going for a long walk so of course, this was the perfect opportunity to buy a new pair of trainers. It’s not the done thing to go on a major hike with shoes not yet fully worn in, but the old ones are probably a bit too worn out. But I found a pair in the shop that felt comfortable straightaway. Result!

Later on, Liesel dropped Jyoti and me off at Quarry Bank Mill where we had a very pleasant, relaxed wander around the gardens, down by the river Bollin.

Yes, the rhododendrons were out in force, and combined with the sunshine, our mood was lifted several notches on the happiness scale.

We had a look around the Mill itself too, and all its machinery. We’re so lucky that neither of us have ever had to work in such a hostile environment. But what amazing technological and engineering accomplishments from 200 years ago. Just to turn a few plants into tea towels.

Engineers make things that ‘work’ and make things ‘work better’. In the past Quarry Bank relied on the engineering brilliance of a few key men. Today, anyone can be an engineer. You just need to be able to think is a certain way. There are six habits that engineers all share:
Engineers work out what problem they want to solve
Engineers look for patterns and what connects things rather than just focusing on the smaller details
Engineers adapt and change, learning from what happens when they try things out
Engineers are creative, whether working on their own or with other people
Engineers imagine what the end result might look like
Engineers tinker. They test, try, improve and experiment!
There is an engineer in all of us.

What an inspiring sign for budding engineers.

In the evening, we all enjoyed a comedy night at Northenden Theatre, just up the road.

Dawn Bailey, Big Lou, Pauline Ayer, Bella Humphries

The MC was ‘Big Lou’ Jones, who I’ve seen before, and the other comedians to look out for in the future were Pauline Ayer, Bella Humphries, Dawn Bailey and Chris Oxenberry. They were all very funny but I only remembered to take pictures of four out of the five. And how nice to see a majority of female performers, yet sad that even now in the 21st century, it’s so unusual, it has to be commented on.

Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man tired. We had to rise early as a taxi was taking us to the coach station in Manchester. There was of course a spate of last-minute packing, and as usual, we were in that limbo between taking too much stuff and leaving something vital behind.

The cab driver was very fast. Well, he slowed down for speed cameras and sometimes stopped for red lights. Liesel felt nauseous and opened the window in case she needed to throw up. But we arrived in one piece, walked from the coach station to the temporary bus stop down the road, via Manchester’s Gay Village, and enjoyed a much more leisurely ride on the National Express to Newcastle.

I slept for a bit, did some puzzles, read my book but didn’t listen to any podcasts, which I’d come prepared to do. Overall, an uneventful coach ride but the highlight was passing by the Angel of the North.

This work of art by Antony Gormley has only been standing there for a quarter of a century but this is the closest we’ve been to it. So far.

In Newcastle, we had a 15-minute walk to our accommodation for the night. The first landmark we saw was St Mary’s Cathedral.

But, carrying heavy bags, we didn’t pay a visit. The second landmark was the iconic Tyne Bridge. Google Maps insisted that we’d arrived at our destination but it was wrong. The Premier Inn was down below. A reminder that Google Maps isn’t very helpful in the third dimension. The other thing that surprised us was the number of gulls all around the bridge. What a racket!

The third landmark was The Sage, Gateshead, over the river. It’s designed to look like three ships approaching in the fog, and I’m sure one day, we’ll go to a concert there.

We couldn’t check in yet, so we left our bags behind the desk, and went for a walk along the river. So many choices of food on offer, and what a great atmosphere.

Jyoti, Liesel and I did visit Newcastle’s other Cathedral, drawn in by the sound of organ music. Later, a boy’s choir started to sing, a wonderful noise and a reminder to me that I’m not really choir material, no matter how polite the other members of Northenden Choir might be to my face

Here are the colourful Maddisons that stand out in scarlet, blue and gold. Medieval St Nicholas’ Church once shone with colour, before the Reformation dictated plain stone and bare walls for churches.

Wealthy coal merchant Lionel Maddison paid for this memorial to his parents, Elizabeth and Henry, in the 1630s, Lionel was an alderman, sheriff and mayor, like his father before him. He was involved in Newcastle’s two wealthiest Companies – the Merchant Adventurers and Hostmen.

Our luck was in as we enjoyed a photography exhibition here in the cathedral too. Peter Marlow has taken pictures of all 42 of England’s cathedrals, and these photos were on display here. So of course, I had to take a picture of Guildford Cathedral while visiting Newcastle Cathedral.

I had a nice chat with someone who volunteers at this Cathedral, who has walked Hadrian’s Wall several times, who comes from Aberdeen but now considers themselves total Anglikised (sic).

The three of us crossed the Millennium Bridge, walked along the river and back over the Swing Bridge. This was of course all good training for the start of our long hike the following day.

At the hotel we met our fellow walkers from the USA, Teresa and her sister Tammy. I’d met Teresa before, in Portland, and she hasn’t changed a bit.

A personal recommendation took us to Träkol, by the By The River Brew Co. Thanks, Ross! We had a very nice meal, the four American ladies each choosing lamb, while I enjoyed a nut roast. The whole place is built inside old shipping containers, but you can’t really tell once you’re inside.

Our hotel room looked out over the Tyne Bridge, but here’s an unusual sight.

Yes, it’s a hotel window that you can actually open. Not too wide, mind, otherwise them pesky gulls might fly in.

The routine for the next few days is that we have breakfast, and we have to have our bags ready by 9.00am. Then some haulage fairies will take those bags to our next stop. We can walk with just the bare necessities for the day.

We could have walked to the start point of the Hadrian’s Wall Walk, or Hadrian’s Way, but we chose to take a taxi instead. It was only about three miles, but it seemed much longer in the cab, knowing we’d be walking back again!

The Roman soldier at Segundum Bath House and Fort, at Wallsend, wished us well on our travels and we set off in a mainly westerly direction. The weather was perfect, and we made good time. Actually, in hindsight, I wonder if we set off a bit too fast to start with, we ended up with various aches and pains.

This first day wasn’t too hilly, but it was a hard surface all the way. We were looking our for the iconic bridges far too early, well, maybe that was just me!

On one path, we saw a couple of discarded supermarket trolleys. As Liesel remarked, if this were Manchester, they would have been in the river by now. In any case, one of our party decided to have an easy ride.

Jyoti, Teresa and Tammy (in the trolley)

On this day, we never deviated far from the river Tyne. And the route itself was well signposted. It was Hadrian’s Walk at this point, because there’s not really a lot of the Wall to see. But from the next day, we would see the occasional section of well-preserved Roman wall.

I can’t remember who first noticed it and yelled ‘Bridge ahoy’, but we soon found ourselves back in Newcastle. It was canny to see wor old bridgey friends again. Picking up the lingo.

Last night, we’d been talking about Costco. So imagine our surprise when we actually saw one today. What a shame it was on the other side of a very wide river with no bridge nor ferry in sight! (Or, what a relief!)

We saw some bits of old wall, but weren’t convinced they were older than Victorian. Still, we can dream.

To bring us back to real life and remind us of more recent history, we passed this memorial in Scotswood.

In memory of the 38 men and boys who tragically lost their lives in the Montagu View Pit Disaster on 30th March 1925, when an inrush of water from a burst seam flooded the mine shaft. The pit was finally closed on 13th November 1959

The pitman, pony and tank depict our past heritage. The house represents the present regeneration of our community. The children are our future.

The official unveiling took place on 9th June 2012 by Councillor Hazel Stephenson and children from Scotswood Village Nursery, Scotswood Village Playgroup and Bridgewater School. The children and local community were involved in the design. The sculpture was made by Xceptional Designs.

In Remembrance of “Men of Steel”.

We stopped for a late lunch at Healthworks Lemington Centre. Jyoti fulfilled her dream, finding a scone with clotted cream. I think we all realised we should have stopped sooner for a break. Various muscles ached but the break helped a lot.

Just a quick (-ish) jaunt to our final destination for the day and we nearly had our first disaster.

Jyoti went down to the river and from where I was standing, it looked like she was in the river. Hence the photo. But then she dropped something, and I assumed it had fallen into the water. Big sighs of relief all round when the phone was picked up from solid ground.

I don’t think I’d heard of the Battle of Newburn Ford before, but we came across a memorial to it with a very good description of the events leading up to it. And it all boils down to religion, of course.

And look, the sky is still blue, a nice way to complete our first day. We stayed at The Keelman’s Lodging, Newburn, after 11 miles and in my case, over 32,000 steps. There’s a micro-brewery here that we didn’t take advantage of, on this occasion.

After confirming that none of us fell foul of the rules, we dined well. Unsure of what dessert to have, Jyoti decided on a bowl of custard.

Yes, an Olympic-size pool of custard. And look at that bloke next to her, concentrating hard on his rhubarb crumble.

The night ended too soon, we could have done with a little more sleep, but we met up early for a hearty breakfast before beginning Day 2 of our hike.

Thanks, Mancs and Diolch, Cymru

I missed the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on account of not being born yet. The Coronation of King Charles III was on TV in the background while I was doing other things, such as writing and looking out of the window and making coffee. I didn’t really go out and buy a hat as previously suggested. But Liesel and Jyoti went out shopping and missed most of the so-called Event of the Year.

King Charles and Queen Camilla on the balcony of Buckingham Palace

Liesel collected her new prescription sunglasses from Didsbury, and while they were in the village, she and Jyoti bought treats for me (and for themselves). So we had scones for breakfast on Sunday morning, with clotted cream and jam and no arguments about which to put on first.

Our walk through Kenworthy Lane Woods on Saturday afternoon was uneventful, no moose nor bear encounters.

No matter how careful you are, you (or is it just me?) always end up with sticky fingers after eating anything where jam is involved.

With our energy levels suitably boosted, we took a bus into Manchester. And yes, of course we saw the back end of a bus disappear up the road as soon as we turned the corner, walking towards the bus stop. Yesterday, when Liesel and Jyoti walked to the village, I said I’d catch up and, for the first time ever, a bus arrived at the bus stop just as I got there, so I boarded it, overtook the ladies, travelled as far as the next stop, disembarked and met them.

Liesel and I enjoyed showing Jyoti the sights of Manchester including the Central Library, although it seemed to be closed. So we mooched around the Art Gallery for a while.

You can just see Jyoti’s reflection to the left of the golden monkey, who sits on top of a large urn made by top artist Grayson Perry, and he wasn’t afraid of incorporating images of his own face throughout the design.

In a few galleries, several objects are on display as if they are in storage, still in crates, and grouped together in unorthodox ways, such as by material, by object type, by size, rather than by country of origin or by artist.

Some works of art make us laugh for the wrong reason. For instance, this pot of kitchen utensils is very similar to one we have at home.

Work of art and Liesel’s version at home

One of the coolest items was a dress make up from 43 kg of dress pins.

I tried to count the pins, but someone interrupted and I lost count at about 13,000 and I wasn’t even up to the waist.

By accident, we ended up at Gooey, a cake and cookie shop that Liesel was aware of and which she’s been lusting after for a long time. We bought doughnuts and after enjoying mine, overflowing with raspberry jam, I vowed never to look at a Krispy Kreme donut again. And yes, my fingers were sticky.

We paid a quick visit to the Cathedral where we witnessed a small band rehearsing, including a harp player. I’ve never been that close to a harp but I resisted the temptation to wander over and have a pluck. I don’t think Liesel would have let me, anyway, never mind the harpist.

We walked towards Castlefield Viaduct, passing a few places of interest, such as what’s left of the old Roman Wall. Rather than sit on this historical artefact, Jyoti chose to sit on the sheep. A premonition, maybe.

It was a first visit to the Viaduct for Liesel and Jyoti, and I hadn’t visited since I went with Pauline and Andrew last Summer. It has matured since then, many of the plants are now in full bloom and some of the beds are even overgrown.

As you leave, you’re surprised to see yourself in a reflective surface. You’re supposed to reflect on what you’ve seen, the flowers, the local communities and groups that have contributed to the project, the plight of the world what with climate change and all that, but all I could think of was, I look a bit distorted in that mirror.

A quick pitstop at the Museum of Science and Industry was followed by the slog back to the bus stop. Our pedometers confirmed that we’d far exceeded our 10,000 steps today, so the sit down on the bus back to Northenden was very welcome. We dined out at Chennai Dosa before making our way home.

I had a few little admin jobs to do on the computer before packing for a few days away. We d drove off and on a long section of road, we watched as several thousand vehicles were returning from their long weekend away, it was a bank holiday, and they may have all gone to Wales to escape the Coronation. Yes, Wales, that’s where we went, Snowdonia to be precise. Liesel had booked a National Trust Cottage just up the road from Craflwyn Hall. Why this area? Many years ago, Liesel and I enjoyed a Bicycle Beano cycling holiday there during the course of which I undoubtedly had a whinge about the hills. Especially the ones that go up.

Bwthyn Mai is a cute little cottage: most of the pictures on the walls are William Morris prints from an old exhibition at The Victoria and Albert Museum, the bedrooms are on the top floor, the bathroom on the middle floor, the living room and kitchen down below. Yes, it was built on a hill, a long, long time ago. The doors and floorboards squeak a symphony as you walk around.

And outside, we can watch the sheep as they upturn furniture, take shelter under the picnic table, rub their bums against the fences and gate posts, we can witness the lambs barging into their mums for a quick feed, and generally gambol like sheep do. Jyoti took many, many pictures of sheep. And I took a couple too.

The only downside to this accommodation, to the wider area as we discovered, is that there is no 4G coverage, and our cottage has no WiFi either. Not a problem, I thought, but as time went on, we all realised how dependent we’d become on having access to the internet. Someone had left me a WhatsApp message but I was unable to acknowledge it for a couple of days. We couldn’t quickly check the weather forecast. When faced with a problem or a question, the first thing we think is, I’ll just Google it. Can’t do that. When reading a book on my Kindle, if I want to look up a new word, I just click on it and it tells me via a dictionary or via Wikipedia. Similarly if I want to remind myself about a certain character, just touch the name and it tells me. Not now I’m out in the sticks. What’s the news? Probably the same old depressing nonsense but we shall remain in blissful ignorance.

From my point of view, the worst thing was the possibility of losing my winning streaks on a couple of puzzles that I do every day. This really is a ridiculous first-world problem I know, but this is how tangled our lives have become with the many tentacles of the internet. And I haven’t even mentioned Twitter, Instagram and email yet. Who’s been communicating with me?

On the other hand, what a great opportunity to get away from the modern e-world for a few days. Except, everywhere we go, we’re checking for a 4G or even a 3G signal, and whether shops, cafés, galleries have WiFi.

I asked Liesel whether she fancied a game of chess on this board in the gardens of Craflwyn Hall but she politely declined, which is fair enough: she doesn’t know how to play.

Liesel and Jyoti set off for a walk and I followed a little later. The path was steep, rocky and damp, it had rained a lot overnight.

After lunch, Liesel drove us to Rhyd Ddu from where there is a trail leading to the summit of Yr Wyddfa which is the new (old original) name for Snowdon. It started off as a well made path, no water running down this one, and yes, of course, walking up a mountain, it’s going to be steep. Liesel and Jyoti climbed a lot further than I did because, annoyingly, I had to stop due to my old shortness-of-breath issue. Maybe I should have trained longer and harder up hills, not the flat plains of Northenden. Maybe I should have persevered on an inclined treadmill at the gym. In any case, I had to stop and sit on a rock for a while, soak up some sunshine and convince my body that it can manage.

It was a beautiful day, though, no complaints there. I walked back to the car park, slowly: it took a ridiculous amount of time before my breathing was back to normal.

Rhyd Ddu is a station on the railway line between Caernarfon and Porthmadog. While pottering about, listening to the birds, I heard the whistle from a train in the distance. I also saw a red dragon on the platform.

Eventually, the train that had been tooting arrived at Rhyd Ddu and I took a few pictures of the engine.

At which point, my phone died. No internet and now, no phone, no camera, no more pictures today, then. So I missed getting photos of the second train as it arrived from the opposite direction. Many people disembarked maybe with the intent of hiking some of the way up to the summit of the mountain. No pictures of them either, some dressed like me, in t-shirt and shorts, some with several layers of waterproofs and a full backpack including a tent.

Liesel, Jyoti and I met up and compared notes, especially regarding tired aching calves. After dinner, we turned the TV on and Jyoti and I watched the first semi-final of the Eurovision Song Conest. The whole event is new to Jyoti and semi-finals are a new experience for me. A good nights sleep should have been a dead cert.

The weather didn’t look so good in the morning. Aches and pains determined that we should therefore have a bit of a rest day. Last night, a sheep had a fight with one of the benches outside. The bench lost, and we found it with its legs in the air. One of the sheep was limping and we wondered whether he was the one who beat up the furniture.

We drove to the nearest town, Beddgelert, where we resisted the temptation to have an ice cream. We did buy postcards and stamps and other cards and pottered about a bit. Outside the church, St Mary’s, we saw a well-preserved gravestone for a William Parry and I wondered whether he was a local hero of some description.

Many scenes for the film Inn of the Sixth Happiness, starring Ingrid Bergman, Curt Jurgens and Burt Kwouk were filmed in the area in 1958. I wonder if this explains the presence of this Chinese dragon which is stylistically very different to Welsh dragons.

Bridge over the river Colwyn in Beddgelert

There was a touch of mizzle in the air and at one point Jyoti commented that she couldn’t understand why I didn’t put a coat on. Well, it wasn’t raining that hard and I didn’t feel cold. I said that, equally, I couldn’t understand how she could keep taking her coat off and putting it back on every time the temperature changes by a degree or two!

We’d been through Betws-y-Coed before, on the occasion of our cycling holiday, so we knew it was a (relatively) big, busy place. Liesel came up with the idea of parking outside the town and walking in. And what a great decision that was because we saw a wonderful heron down by the riverside.

We found a place to eat by the railway station and looked forward to using their WiFi to catch up with some totally unimportant stuff. So imagine the heart-wrenching disappointment when we saw this on the wall.

The food was great though, especially the Victoria sponge. On this beautiful day, we should maybe have done a tour of the the local waterfalls, since they are so well signposted.

Liesel confessed to her love of bridges, so we walked to Sappers Suspension Bridge, but it’s not open to the public at the moment. Further along the road, (and who would have guessed that we’d ever be walking along the A5?) we saw Waterloo Bridge, a small edifice compared with its namesake in London, but so called because it was first built in the same year as the Battle of Waterloo, 1815.

Even though this was supposed to be more of a rest day following the exertions of all the climbing yesterday, we still did a lot of walking.

Deciding where to visit on our final whole day in Wales was hard, so much depends on the weather and of course, we can’t look up a weather forecast because we have no internet. In the end, we drove to Beddgelert Forest where we planned to walk to around a lake. Well, we never did find the lake. The trail was marked but somehow all three of us, I think, missed a vital pointer so we ended up well off course. But it doesn’t matter, we enjoyed the walk, the views, the weather, the fresh air, the birdsong and the fact that there were very few other hikers, cyclists and no horseriders at all. The forest itself is very lush, so many different greens from olive to almost dayglow.

Once we realised we were off course, we decided instead to follow the trail into Beddgelert itself. It was a much more pleasant experience than one of our earlier plans which was to walk from the Forest car park to the village along the road, with no footpath. We lost count of the number of streams and rivulets. It’s a very wet forest but today, we were lucky to be out in the sunshine, and the threatening grey clouds never came too close.

We’ve been wondering which peak was in fact Snowdon, Yr Wyddfa, and today a very helpful sign showed us. What a shame the actual summit was shrouded in cloud!

We had lunch at the Prince Llewelyn public house in Beddgelert, grateful for the opportunity to sit down for a while after quite a long walk. Oh, and they weren’t afraid to let us use their WiFi so I caught up on a few things, nothing of any importance of course.

Before setting off for the car, retracing our steps, we had an ice cream. What a joy to be sitting in warm sunshine eating an ice cream.

I heard a dog barking and a man telling it to be quiet. Round the corner, and we saw a flock of sheep in the road.

The man had two dogs that very skilfully herded the sheep through a gate. I thought it was unusual to hear a sheep dog being so vocal, though.

Finding another cute little bridge, I thought it would be rude not to take a picture of it for Liesel. So here she is, with Jyoti, about to walk across it.

By the time we found our car in the car park, we had walked over 20,000 steps, so probably between 8 and 9 miles. Very good training for what we’ll be doing next week. My body behaved much better than yesterday. I found my rhythm and walked up a very long hill and was hardly out of breath when I got to the top, a totally different sensation to the shortness-of-breath episode I’d had yesterday.

Back at our cottage, we had some coffee then supper and in the evening, Jyoti and I enjoyed the second semi-final of the Eurovision Song Contest. I now realise what I’ve been missing for several years!

A good night’s sleep was interrupted by a very early rise and an early departure. One aspect of the cottage that I didn’t mention was the beam in the room.

I must have banged my head on it a thousand times over the course of four days, thus keeping Liesel fully entertained. How I can bang my head, utter ‘ouch’, glance down, forget the beam’s there, stand up and bang my head again so many times is a question that will only be answered by the pathologist who dissects my brain post mortem.

The day back at home was quiet, I worked on a radio show, processed the week’s accumulated mail (one item) and in the evening, we met up with the family for dinner at a pub called The Pointing Dog. Martha was but a small baby when she last met Jyoti but what a fab reunion.

As mentioned a couple of times, this is Eurovision Song Contest week, and the competition is being held in Liverpool, on behalf of Ukraine, last year’s winner, and we’ve had a lot of coverage on TV and radio. So of course, my own show on Wythenshawe Radio has a Eurovision theme, and you can catch up with it here.

Oh and by the way, I didn’t lose my winning streaks on the puzzles that I do every day, just because there was no internet access. It seems that if you don’t or can’t attempt the puzzle one day, that doesn’t count against you. Phew, I am so relieved.

And, as I discovered after we returned home, the Wikipedia entry on the Welsh Red Dragon is a fascinating read. Highly recommended.

I could find no evidence that the William Parry whose gravestone we found was a celebrity in any way. But Parry is a very common name in the Beddgelert area, certainly in the graveyard.

Gozo and home

Having spent the day in and roughly north of Victoria, it was now time to head eastwards. The wind was still blowing so we took a bus to Qala from where we wandered hither and thither, admiring the views.

We did see some wildlife, a few birds, the odd butterfly, but most excitingly, snails.

Many of the restaurants advertise ‘locally produced lamb’, ‘locally produced goat’ and ‘locally produced rabbit’. Along with ‘Argentinian beef’. But on all our walks, we never once saw a sheep, goat or rabbit out in the wild, not even any signs of their presence. We ate our lunch in a place recommended by our b&b host, Xerri il Bukkett. Entertainment was provided by some loud American ladies one of whom clearly knew more about breeding and raising rabbits, for food, not pets, than the local Gozitan population.

Speaking of birds which we were a minute ago, what a surprise to see these chaps out by the road.

We walked and took a bus to the Ġgantija Temples, still looking out for sheep and goats. ‘Ġgantija’ because they were built by a race of giants, according to local legend.

After about 5,500 years, the temples, older than the pyramids in Egypt, aren’t in the best of repair, and some of the stones are missing, having been acquired for re-use in new buildings. This has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1980, but that’s no excuse not to have a coffee shop at the end of the tour, along with the gift shop!

‘The typical habitat on the Ġgantija plateau is the garrigue, a seemingly arid and treeless environment. In reality, this is one of the richest habitats on the Maltese islands with hundreds of flowering plants, including the Giant Fennel, the Wild Thyme, the Mediterranean Heather, the Maltese Spurge and many others.’ I don’t think I’d seen the word ‘garrigue’ before.

The graffiti goes back hundreds of years but we’re now discouraged from such vandalism.

A couple of the walls have been secured by scaffolding until the local experts work out the best way to preserve the temples in the longer term.

The temples need another visit one day, but we were conscious of having to catch a bus. While waiting at the bus stop, we had another wildlife encounter. A cat made friends with us.

The weather hadn’t been as bad as forecast and the following day was even better. So we headed south on this occasion, to Xlendi. The walk, nay, hike, along the coastal path was more challenging than the average stroll around Northenden, that’s for sure, and in a couple of places, we lost the path. Still, no sheep nor goats to worry about.

The cliffs looked challenging to say the least, so I was glad that our hike took us in the opposite direction, along the il-Maxar – ix-Xlendi Heritage Trail. Still hilly and rocky but not vertical.

I saw the Usain Bolt of the lizard world dart across the path in front of us. Then Liesel saw one too, after which we saw a few, lone lizards, taking in the Sun on the rocks. Beautiful green lizards.

One thing we weren’t expecting to see was this little bridge. There’s no river, it just meant we didn’t have to climb all the way down the ravine and back up. I imagine this was constructed by the Romans. Or maybe the Brits.

Our destination was Sanap Cliffs, and we just enjoyed the walk in the sunshine, even as we were concerned that we might be off course, having lost the path, and might be tramping across someone’s crops. Still no sign of a goat or sheep.

‘This area, that forms the south-western part of the village of Munxar, is characterised by the high cliffs known as Sanap Cliffs. Sanap, from Maltese senapa, is the mustard plant that was possibly cultivated in the area. This place lies between Tal-Bardan, on the left, and Ras il-Bajjada in Xlendi, to the right. The surrounding fields are a grazing site for sheep and goats.

Sanap Cliffs offer an unparalleled view of the south coast of the island of Gozo. The highest point in the area is specifically known il-Pinnur, literally as the weathercock. This point is perched to the winds just as a weathercock. The island of Comino is to the left, and the north coast of Malta in front.’

So, sheep and goats do graze in the area, maybe they’re inside during the cold(er) Winter months.

As we approached Sanap Caves, our rocky, stoney, muddy path morphed into a paved walkway, very civilised. We even saw other people, but we didn’t join them at the cliff’s edge. Instead, we completed the loop, and walked back to Xlendi, following the road this time.

From a distance, neither of us could discern whether these crops were potatoes or cannabis, or maybe something else, more exotic.

Obviously, it was much faster walking along the road and we soon found ourselves by the waterside in Xlendi. We found Moby Dick Restaurant, enjoyed lunch, and coffee, and watched the Sun going down over the sea. Again, I took far too many photos of the setting Sun, with and without clouds, trying to capture the waves as they broke just behind the wall protecting Moby Dick and the other shorefront premises from the Mediterranean.

Another slog, well, a two-minute walk to the bus stop, where again we were serenaded by the susurration from a million small birds in the trees.

I think it’s fair to say that we enjoyed our few days on Gozo and that, having seen the weather forecast back home, we didn’t really want to go back. But we did, getting up early to catch a bus back to Mġarr for the ferry back to Malta. Having not seen a lot of wildlife (we can’t really count snails, lizards, cats and millions of small birds), you can only imagine the delight when we came across this old thing in the ferry terminal.

I know, I know, it looks like a donkey to us too, but the model really is titled Four Beautiful Women.

Waiting for the ferry to arrive gave plenty of opportunity to get some steps in by wandering around, of course. The boat trip itself was uneventful, as was the bus that took us across Malta, from Cirkewwa Ferry Terminal to the airport.

Malta International Airport. We checked in very quickly. A dozen or so desks, all staffed, which meant there wasn’t a ridiculously long queue. We got through security very quickly too. Lots of time to spare before our flight, so all we could do really was wander around, or sit in the Hard Rock Café for some lunch.

It was quite poignant sitting by Jeff Beck’s shirt, as he only passed away a few days earlier.

The flight was uneventful and finally, we dropped through several thousand feet of clouds to see the lights of Manchester.

Manchester Airport and yes, we were soon brought back to grinding reality. After a 3½-hour flight, it really shouldn’t take 1½ hours to get through immigration. Why was there such a delay? Because, again, only half the passport reading machines were plugged in and working. Mine wasn’t the only head shaking in disbelief.

And then we were driven home by the grumpiest taxi driver in the country. He took the longest possible route home and made a big deal out of finding his card reader because, of course, we didn’t have any British money on us. Welcome home, Mick and Liesel!

In happier news, the latest radio show was about Laughter Therapy, and it includes a chat I had with Sara about laughter and about Blue Monday. Listen here, right now, and have a laugh!

Walks, wind and hills

As well as being extremely narrow, some of the streets in Victoria, Gozo are incredibly steep.

Nevertheless we persisted, we walked all the way up to The Citadel from where we could look down on quite a lot of the island.

There are signs of activity on the hillock dating back to 2,500 BC, the start of the Bronze Age. There are marble artefacts from the Roman era too, so a lot of history here.

I’ll let the local experts tell us more:

The Cittadella, also known as the Castello, is the main historic fortress of Gozo, built at a strategic vantage point just in the centre of the island.

Archaeological evidence shows that the site has possibly been inhabited since Late Neolithic times and certainly fortified during the Bronze Age Period. In Roman times, Gozo was elevated to a privileged municipality, and the fortified city was transformed into a complex acropolis serving as the centre of both the administrative and military activity as well as the religious life of the inhabitants of Gaulos.

During the Middle Ages, the acropolis was converted into a fortified castle which served as a refuge for the inhabitants during corsairs’ attacks. By the 16th Century, most of the castle’s defensive walls became obsolete, and a major reconstruction of the southern side was undertaken between 1599 and 1622. The delineation of the northern medieval walls was largely retained and integrated into the revamped military architecture, transforming the old modest Castello into an imposing gunpowder fortress.

Today the Cittadella houses various notable buildings and historic places, including the Cathedral of the Assumption, which was built between 1697 and 1711 on the site of the former medieval church.

There were a few other visitors but a lot of the people we saw arriving by foot or by car were lawyers attending the court. We thought about watching whatever trial was taking place, but in the end, staying outside in the sunshine seemed a higher priority. Although the wind was still quite strong, and cold in places.

One thing we noticed was how much greener Gozo is than Malta. It might dry out in the extreme heat of Summer of course, but right now, we can see the benefits of the limited Winter precipitation.

It was interesting to see a really skilled artist at work. Emmanuel’s paintings have an almost photographic quality to them, and he was working from a photo on his phone here. How lucky to be here on the one day of his free exhibition.

From a distance, I thought this was an electric car being charged. A bit anti-social having the charging cable across the narrow pavement, definitely a trip hazard. But no. It’s a petrol pump, installed outside somebody’s house.

We wandered around fairly aimlessly for a while, but then Liesel remembered the remains of some aqueducts, so we walked along the road in that direction. Old Roman aqueducts, I gussed. Nope: built by the Brits in the early 19th century.

The supply of water in Malta is of course limited. According to one of our hosts:

Malta only receives around 550 mm of rainfall a year, the greater part of which falls over a period of a few months from October to February, with the rest of the year being dry to very dry.

Malta has no rivers or lakes; 68% of Malta’s water comes from groundwater which is being exploited at a rate of almost 50% over and above sustainable extraction levels. The balance comes from seawater desalination, which consumes 7% of all the electricity used in the country, all of which comes from the burning of fossil fuels in power stations.

One thing we both noticed is there are very few solar panels here. I’m sure there will be more solar energy in the future, but for now, it seems to be a missed opportunity. Similarly, we’ve seen no wind turbines and no evidence of off-shore energy production using tides or waves.

We walked in the general direction of Wied il-Għasri, commenting on the cactuses growing everywhere, remarking on how hilly the place is, and what a shame there’s not a decent pavement on most of the roads. We turned round and saw the Citadel. Is that the same Citadel, I asked Liesel?

The walls are all dry stone, not a drop of cement. But very strong although not necessarily strong enough to withstand impact from a badly driven vehicle.

As we walked on by, I pointed out that we had now been to Infinity… and beyond.

As we walked on by, I reminded Liesel that we had been to Infinity, and beyond.

The names of houses are varied. Half of them are English, half Maltese and half Latin. But there was one that we were amused to see:

As we walked on by, I remarked that we’d been to Infinity… and beyond.

We saw a sign advertising Gozo lizards for sale. Knock on the door or call this number. Well, I would have thought these dry-stone walls would have plenty of lizards living in the nooks and crannies, especially on the sunny side. Liesel on the other hand thought they were just rocks with lizards painted on them. It’s still a mystery.

Late in the afternoon, hundreds of birds chirp and chirrup in cacophonous unison, flitting about from branch to branch in the trees. We thought they looked like house sparrows, but I don’t know if they make that kind of racket. On the other hand, having seen pictures of Sardinian warblers, we now think they’re responsible for the noise pollution.

This is the oldest Basilica on Gozo but there was no opportunity to look around inside.

Gozo is quite hilly, I may have mentioned that. So it was interesting to see that some of the crops are grown on terraces. I thought that was just an Asian method of farming.

In the distance we spotted a lighthouse, but we felt it was too far to walk to on this occasion. We were conscious of the Sun setting at about 5 o’clock so it was with some relief that, at last, we reached the Gorge at Wied il-Għasri. People do go swimming here, but not today, as far as we could see.

We decided not to walk all the way down quite a steep path to the water’s edge. Just as well, because the trek to the nearest bus stop took us up the longest, steepest road in the whole world. Or so it seemed to these old legs. In fact, it was so long and steep, we saw the Sun set several times. It would disappear, we’d walk up the hill and watch it sink below the horizon again. And again.

Up and up we climbed, and when we reached the bus stop, we hugged it. The bus service on Malta is terrific but sometimes, you’re unlucky with the timing and have to wait for quite a while, in the cold, strong wind. But this did give me an opportunity to wander off a couple of times, and I did witness one more colourful sunset.

After nearly an hour, the bus arrived and we hugged the driver. It was a quick ride back to Victoria and a quick walk back to our b&b where we slowly thawed out and, after the longest walk of our entire trip, we enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

Let’s go to Gozo

This really is the height of luxury. Nothing to do but walk around in the sunshine. We meandered along the promenade in the opposite direction today, away from Valetta, heading towards St Julian’s, which is where we stayed the last time we visited Malta. There was a noticeable difference in temperature between walking in the Sun and being in the shade. But it was glorious, so much more pleasant than the rain in Manchester, for which we see there’s now a yellow warning.

We’d both decided not to being swimwear with us on this occasion, but that may have been a mistake. When I saw this guy playing with his water jet-powered rocket booster system in the harbour, I thought, I’d like to have a go at that. Liesel wasn’t so keen, though.

We noticed a few shoals of fish in the water too, it was that clear, contrary to our expectations. And when we found the local Marina regulations, we could see why. I suspect most if not all local sailors follow the rules. I don’t have a boat, so I didn’t really have to commit the rules to memory, but there you go.

Under MARPOL legislation, it is illegal to discharge oily residues into the sea. All automatic bilge pumps must be switched off unless the engine (s) is equipped with a separate oil tray. A bilge water pump-out facility is available at this marina. Violators are subject to sanctions.

Enzyme-based products must be used to clean bilges, not detergents. Oil absorbent pads should be kept onboard for emergencies.

Marina regulations prohibit the discharge of sewage or grey water (effluent from shower, laundry and wash basins) into the basin. Full shore facilities (toilet/shower units, marine pump-outs and live-abourd pump-outs) are available at this marina. Violators are subject to sanctions.

It is strictly prohibited to dump any solid wastes into the marina (Food waste, paper, rags, glass, crockery, metal, ropes, packing material and any plastic articles). Violators are subject to sanctions.

The maximum speed inside the marina of any marine craft is limited to 3 Knots. Violators are subject to sanctions.

Apart from mooring lines and service cables, it is prohibited to leave or store items on the marina quay. All such items will be removed at the owner’s expense

After reaching St Julian’s, we deviated from the promenade, and found ourselves not so much walking as scrambling or scrabbling along the lunar landscape of the beach. Plenty of trip hazards for my two left feet, but I survived without mishap.

We found civilisation again close to The Westin Hotel Dragonara. I’m sure it’s a fantastic, comfortable place to stay, but we’re very happy in our little b&b.

We sat by a proper, sandy beach for a while, watching the people, me with a coffee and Liesel with an ice cream. That guy’s brave, we thought, not just for swimming in the sea, but for leaving his bag unattended, having just been flashing his mobile phone.

The sand at St George’s Bay is quite coarse, but still easier to walk on than the rocks earlier. I saw one jellyfish in the water.

As we walked back through the town, past a shopping arcade, I remarked that we’d been here before. Nope. I was by myself last time, Liesel was having a rest, a long, luxurious bubble bath or something.

The building site was a bit ugly. Aren’t they all? But this one is A new destination to elevate Malta’s urban landscape. Cutting edge entertainment for all. A carefully created shopping experience for everyone. A heightened culinary affair. Well I for one can’t wait to see what’s so different about all these new shops and restaurants. All brand new and shiny. How ironic then that, as we walked around the corner, we noticed a really, really old bus.

Always try and remember to look up.

One thing we’ve noticed all over the place is the proliferation of hire scooters. Most users are on the pavements, moving at a reasonable speed amongst us pedestrians. But some braver souls are on the roads travelling at over 20mph, easily keeping up with the general traffic flow. I thought about trying one out, but, well, it’s the thought that counts.

Of course, if this were Manchester, these scooters would all be in the water by now.

The recycling bins are pretty nifty too. We saw one guy with huge bin-bags full of cans and plastic bottles. We wondered why he didn’t just leave those bags by the recycling bins. But then we realised, those bins actually pay you for the recycled items.

It’s always good to try and work out what an item of scuplture represents, especially when the adjoining plaque only has a description in a different language, in this case, Maltese.

I think it was first made in 1986 and subsequently repaired in 2017 then located in front of Ċensu Apap’s house in Sliema. The Ministry of Transport had something to do with it. My Maltese is very limited, even with Google Translate looking over my shoulder.

On our previous visit to Malta, we visited a coffee shop at Tigné Point a couple of times. So we had to make the pilgrimage there again this time. Iced coffee and hot coffee were enjoyed, not to mention a second breakfast.

We soaked up as much Sun as we could while walking around the tip of the peninsula. One thing we didn’t anticipate seeing was a man taking his cat for a walk. Well, taking his cat out for some fresh air, at least.

I made the mistake of buying another coffee as we got close to home. Mistake? Yes. Because when we got to Lidl, the assistant wouldn’t let me take it in, which meant that Liesel had to get the shopping alone. I hung around outside, enjoying my coffee and the sound of the bells of the Parish Church of Stella Maris, just around the corner. A crowd of people were gathered outside, but I couldn’t see whether it was a wedding or some other celebration.

We’re now used to being disappointed by the weather at home when we lift the blinds each morning. And that feeling of, well, ‘dread’ is probably too strong a word, but that feeling is still there, even after being here in the Mediterranean for a few days. But so far here, we’ve never been greeted by anything other than dazzling blue skies and signs of bright sunshine. So it was no hardship to leave our house and walk to the bus stop.

I’m just glad we weren’t standing by the bus stop over the road when that balcony came a-tumbling down.

Since Covid, Manchester buses have had the windows fixed so they can’t be closed. Not that that stops people from closing them. The idea is that fresh air will reduce the spread of Covid. Here in Malta, the bus company has done the opposite. ‘Keep Windows Closed. This bus is equipped with Bioactive AC filters for improved air filtration. Please keep windows closed for maximum efficiency.’ Yes, of course some of the windows had been forced open. The first bus we caught today had a temperature of 28°. The second, a baltic 22°, brrr!

We were entertained by the American couple behind, about the same age as us, learning to use public transport, probably for the first time in their lives.

Him: Did you press Stop, dear?
Her: Yes, I have ascertained how to stop the bus by pressing the button. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?

It was just a pity they hadn’t ascertained how to board the bus, through the correct door, not through the exit to avoid paying the fare.

We disembarked at Sanglea, and couldn’t help but notice this example of extreme yarn-bombing.

That was a labour of love, I wonder how long it took? Just along the road as we made our way to the tip of the peninsula, Liesel posed for a photo, sporting her exclusive shopping bag. I think that’s St Philip’s Church at the top of the road.

This is obviously an old part of Malta, one of the houses had the date 1702 inscribed.

Walls have ears. That’s the saying, and this watch tower really does have ears. And eyes.

Looking over the water towards Fort St Angelo, it would be easy to deduce that the whole island is really just one big fortress. The entrance to the Grand Harbour is fortified too.

We hadn’t really agreed a plan, but found ourselves walking around the bay, past the American University of Malta, around to visit the Fort itself. A relatively cold wind blew for a few minutes but it didn’t last long, and once we were in the sunshine again, we soon warmed up.

Quite a few of these little boats were in the water, or up on the quayside, but we didn’t go for a ride in one. They’re very colourful though. Luzzu? Ferrila? Where’s my Maltese correspondent when I need him?

On another occasion, we’ll visit the War and the Maritime Museums, but today, we were just soaking up the Sun. Outside the Maritime Museum is the first steam engine to arrive on Malta.

We’re not totally averse to visiting places and we spent a very pleasant hour or so at Fort St Angelo, although we could have spent much longer there. Most of our visit was still outdoors, up and down many steps and slopes. Which led us to wonder whether my Dad had been to Malta during the second world war when he was in the Royal Navy? We know he was in the Mediterranean, possibly in Crete… but that’s it, that’s all we know.

There is a lot of history at this fort, going back to before the original fort was built in medieval times. It was, of course, damaged during the war.

As well as being used for defensive purposes, it has been used as a prison, a Royal Naval hospital and as a court over the years. Not to mention the chapel and, now, for us visitors, it provides a great view of the harbour.

Cannon’s eye view of the entrance to Grand Harbour

There is a café, but after all the effort of climbing stairs to find it, it was found to be closed. Nightmare.

Liesel and I decided not to climb the mast on this occasion. ‘Reaching 80 feet in height, this wooden ship-mast was installed around 1910. The Royal Naval White Ensign and the flag of the chief naval afficer responsable for Fort St Angelo, normally Flag Officer Malta, were flown daily following the Fort’s transformation into a Royal Naval shore establishment in 1906, Special signs were hoisted for the manoeuvering of naval ships in harbour and weather forecasting. Another naval ship-mast was located across the Grand Harbour on Lascaris Bastion in Valletta but was removed in the 1970s.’

We left just before closing time and carried on walking along the bay. We stopped for a beverage, both choosing a delightful, thick, tasty, hot chocolate on this occasion.

I’d like to say I hired a one-man octocopter so that I could take a picture of the fort from above, but, here’s a secret: it’s just a photo of a photo.

We walked up a hill to the bus stop and returned to Sliema. Around the corner from our b&b, we came across these stars. My guess is that they were to mark David Bowie’s birthday.

He is the original Starman after all. And who can forget his appearance at the Malta International Song Festival in July 1969 when, amongst other songs, he performed When I live my Dream, probably his best love song, with an orchestral backing? In the festival, he came second to a Spanish singer called Cristina: I wonder what happened to her?!

Later on, we dined at the top Maltese restaurant Wagamama where we were entertained by Lady Gaga. Wagagaga.

It’s hard work being on holiday so we took a day off. Reading, writing and ‘rithmetic were the order of the day for me, although Liesel did do some actual work on her laptop. We also packed to prepare for our departure.

On our previous visit to Malta, we’d missed out Gozo so we decided we’d pay a visit this time. The plan was to catch the fast ferry from Valletta. However, our plans were scuttled. Unlike the ferry, thank goodness.

Schedule Update: 10th January 2023 & 11th January 2023

Kindly be advised that due to the inclement weather conditions the Gozo Fast Ferry trips will be suspended for today Tuesday 10th January & tomorrow Wednesday 11th January.

Keep a look out on our socials or website for the latest updates.

Our plan B was to take a bus to Ċirkewwa and catch the normal, slow ferry. We could understand why the fast ferry service had been cancelled, the wind was really strong, the sea was being whipped up, such a contrast to the calm seas we’ve enjoyed for the last few days.

Here is the rough sea as seen through the dirty, rain-besplattered window of a moving bus. We waited for about half an hour at the ferry terminal where I paced up and down and round and round. There are signs everywhere telling us to wear masks, but nobody bothered. There’s even a vending machine selling them.

The voyage lasted about 25 minutes and the passage was indeed windy and rough. A couple of passengers turned a bit green but I think most of us felt ok. I went out on deck for a short while and the best thing is, my hat didn’t blow off.

Our b&b on Gozo is a bus ride away, in Victoria, below the famous citadel which we’ll explore another day. Claude met us, showed us around, and suggested some good places to walk on the island. He confirmed the public transport service is good, you can get pretty much anywhere in about 20 minutes by bus.

We went for a short walk to the town square where we had a late lunch. Or early dinner, if you prefer. And we got some shopping.

There’s space on this façade for two clocks, but rather than a sundial and a conventional clock, there is Alpha and Omega, for Jesus Christ, the beginning and end of our lives. The right hand clock gives a rough idea of the time of day, if you have no other means of telling the time.

Back at the b&b, we relaxed and considered thinking about planning what we might do and where we might go during the next few days, taking into account the conflicting weather forecasts.