And so it came to an end

A very long overnight flight seemed to go on forever. Boarding at 10:30 Singapore time (12:30 local) they of course felt obliged to keep the lights on until dinner(?!!) was served. This took 2 hours. And of course they felt obliged to serve breakfast 2 hours before landing. This gave us 3 hours of quiet time. The girls slept toe to toe curled up on the floor and Neil and Ro tried the same on the seats. Needless to say not much sleep was had and after the long day previously we walked off the plane feeling like Zombies.

Melbourne airport has had some improvements over the last 10 years, none of them actually translate into efficient handling of the customer (except the trolleys are now free). And so we queued (2 plane loads) - single file past a sniffer dog, queued at through passport control, fought the crowds to get to our luggage carousel and then promptly fought our way back through the same crowd to get to Customs. Utter confusion and extremely poorly thought out. Makes you wonder why we try to attract international visitors here when we muck them around like that. And of course, there is no train connection ( whereas everyone else has one).

Luckily, once we were through, we were quickly collected by Herb and the quiet roads saw us home smartly and relieved that we’d actually made it with only a couple of hiccups. We spent the day forcing ourselves to stay awake, unpacking, and generally getting used to the extra space, whilst thoroughly appreciated the full fridge, and pre-prepared lunch and dinner (how cool is that!)



The girls put their charm bracelets together and the phone has been running steadily with people welcoming us home.
















And so to some transport stats we collated:-

Planes – 9
Trains (Metro) – 29
Intercity Trains – 6
Eurostar – 1
Cars – 7
Vans – 5
Taxi – 3
4WD – 1
Buses – 26
Ferries – 3
Gondolas – 1
Boats – 4
Cable Cars – 2
Parasail – 1
Ferris Wheels – 3
Quad Cycles – 1
Push Bikes – 3
Km’s walked - countless

So that was over 100 different trips on transport (woo hoo ! – no idea if that actually means anything or not).

As a final wrap up we’d like to say a special thanks to the following people.
Gabby – lift, Paris planning & execution, company and delivering the new drivers license.
Brian and Fran – The best next door neighbors who helped up all the way through and especially in our hour of need.
Polly and Paul for showing us a wonderful part of the world with fabulous hospitality. Midsomer Murders will never be the same.
Sarah, Nick, Nicole, Oliver and Rory for sharing their lives, their rooms and their house in such generous fashion (the quiet day at the cricket was, of course, painful with just the two of us).
Marg for preparing our home coming so nicely.
Herb for getting us home quickly and safely.
Everyone who left a comment on the blog. We reveled in knowing that people were out there watching and the feedback gave us made us feel at home even though we were so far away.
And to everyone who has tracked our adventures – we hoped you enjoyed the trip and thanks for sharing it with us.

Tomorrow, school and work (aka “The real world”) beckons. Until next time…..

Sky high over Singapore

Another early start saw us out of bed at 5:30 am, pack, pay, eat and be on the road by 7 for the start of the long (and somewhat) disjointed trek home. The road back to Phuket Airport seemed to take a lot longer than the trip in – even though that could not have been the case as all was very calm, it was most likely due to the daze that we arrived in 5 days earlier. It was interesting seeing the hordes of locals swarm down the steep entrance road on the plethora of motor scooters and tray trucks. All heading to position themselves to hassle the tourists.

The short flight to Singapore went well, except we were stymied by being dumped in the Budget terminal. Not the rent a car company – this means for the people that can’t afford a real air fare (apparently) As we had 10 hours to kill, this was not too much of an issue except we missed out on the free transit passengers tours that are on offer if you can afford an airline that uses the main terminals.

Deciding this was our fate we dropped our bags in the Left Luggage, jumped on the trains and headed into town. Another day another country and yet another city. Singapore is a very interesting place to visit and lives up to its reputation. Clean, efficient, new and also hot and muggy. We didn’t really have the energy to walk around too much so we decided to stroll over to the new wheel to see if we could afford it.

As it turns out, that cat was out of the bag again because the whole town was abuzz with birthday celebrations. We thought it was very nice of them to put on concerts, military parades, air force flyovers and the like just to recognize Rosemary’s big day. Luckily they didn’t ask for a speech as it was too hot and we were all pretty tired. So we walked around the blocked roads and got to the Eye (they call theirs the Singapore Flyer) to find discounted rates, no queues and we actually got a whole pod to ourselves. This backs up our previous theory that an attraction is only going to be really popular if you charge a lot of money to stand in queues.

It was a very insightful journey and we gained a reasonable appreciation of the place in our 40 minute loop. We also fund out the real reason why the Melbourne one was such dismal failure. Feng shui. Yep – here they got an expert in and he pointed out that it was going the wrong way – apparently they should follow the path of the sun. Our people in Melbourne really should consider these things. The Singaporeese also seem to have their Mykey system working perfectly well on the trains. What are our lot doing?

On the way back to the trains we stopped by some heavy artillery and then paused in an Irish pub to while away the hours. Given the price of drinks this was done in a very controlled manner.

Leaving the locals to continue the party celebrations, we made our apologies (due to the flight times) and we headed back to the airport for a whole lot more tiring hangin’ out, sittin’ around and waitin’ in line in order to get on to our last flight.

A day of high jinks and celebration

After our usual panic to get to breakfast in time, we headed over the road and onto the beach for some high flying adventure. We’d spent the last few days watching the professionalism of the Para gliders and they seemed to be doing a reasonable job. They send a driver up with the passenger, this dude breaks all the OH&S ever written and basically jumps on at the beginning (no harness or safteyline), pulls the strings correctly to get it airborne, then swings up and sits among the strings while the flight goes on and then helps guide the whole show to a gentle landing, which is required when the tides in as there is not a lot of room on the crowded beach in the situations. The tide was out for us however and the beach was mostly empty . And so we went. Isabel up, Isabel down, Louisa up, Louisa down, Rosemary harnessed, Rosemary can’t breathe, so Neil goes up, Neil comes down and there’s a hitch – one of the dudes helping was not looking and they almost landed on his head, not sure what exactly happened but the result was he ended up being dumped onto the beach unceremoniously, being dragged along on his knees by the parachute until they managed to bring the thing to halt. It was rather poignant that the song playing in the background was Flo-Rida (Get low) and he did indeed “hit the floor” and was indeed “low,low,low,low,low,low,low”. Luckily for them the only result was two scraped knees, a wounded pride (although in true style he jumped right up said he wasn’t hurt and walked off into the ocean to wash off) and no law suit. Rosemary flew without hitch after all of that and we were all very exhilarated after the adventure.
Afterwards we all headed off for massages, manicures, pedicures and hair braids – well O.K. not all of us got all of those things. Splashing around in the pool combined with a few shopping walks in order to tidy things up was the order of the afternoon before we got ready for dinner. Experiencing the change of the guard Phuket style (they have police watching the lifts), we then had a big surprise as a birthday cake was delivered to the door with Rosemary’s name on it. Someone let the cat out of the bag and it was a jolly good thing they did too, because none of us had thought to do so.
So we had dinner and have started to pack for the long trek home, this involves a 10 hour transit stay in Singapore – therefore we have no idea whether this will be the 2nd or 3rd last blog of the journey.

More of the same

As expected nothing extraordinary happened today. The weather was slightly more muggy, it had rained before we dragged our still jet lagged weary bodies down to breakfast however we saw none of that precipitation action during the rest of the day. The three girls headed off to massages and shopping whilst Dad sat beside the pool and read a cynical yet funny book based on life in the office. This had the weird effect of slowly bringing him down to earth and wondering what gossip maybe running rampant back home.
After rendezvousing back in the room we headed back to the posh pool (stuff the rules – it’s simply nicer – probably due to the lack of toddler wee) and we splashed around for a bit and then played stacks on the mill. The crowd was very impressed with our 4 person high stack. Next time we’ll bring a camera person as well, as it was we could only get our 3p stack captured.
Afterwards Dad and girls wandered back to the portrait caricature dude for a sitting for the girls. This took a fair bit longer than expected; the results were however, spectacular. This guy is a genius and deserves far more credit than the lowly fees they charge. Not to be confused the rest of the cheap rubbish everyone else seems to be pushing around the place.
On the way back we wandered though one of the hot spots which was just warming up the night. The seedy side of Phuket was just starting to rear its ugly head. As this is a family blog, details will not be expressed here, it was however interesting to see what potential the place has and it’s obvious that it’s not all just sunny beaches and cheap imitation goods that some people come here for.
Back home after dinner we’re relaxing in the room listing to the occasional doof doof of the super tuk tuks drift down the street as reminder that the city is still a buzz with whatever they do out there in the wee small hours.
The plan for our last day of relaxation tomorrow is to celebrate Ro’s birthday in style. This will most likely mean doing more of the same, again.

A quiet day in paradise

Not much to report today. R&R has that effect – after all – who really wants to know that the weather has cleared, it’s warm, not too muggy, the clouds have gone, the threat of storms looming over the sea have disappeared and all we are left with is perfect blue sky, wafts of cool drafts off the Indian ocean and tropical playground in which to explore?
And so ignoring the calls of exotic adventures and exciting places to visit (due to 5 weeks of high adventure – basically we couldn’t care less) we opted for a day of shopping in the nearby stalls, getting the washing done (the never ending chore – regardless of your situation and/or place) and making sure there were no more tsunamis’ rolling in. The later involved lounging around on deck chairs (suitably shielded from the sun by umbrellas which were constantly adjusted by our faithful umbrella attendant) and watching the ocean. Admittedly we nodded off sometimes so the vigilance was not as intensive as first suggested, however we always had an ear out for trouble – even if just to ward off the passing vendors of flutes and sarongs.
It’s somewhat disconcerting to be still overseas and yet seeing signs of Aussie infestation everywhere, we keep hearing Aussie accents all over the place; the stall vendors who have no idea who we are say “G’day mate” in order to start up a conversation and the beach is littered with our flags. Something just doesn’t smell right (those that have been here will know the double meaning that sentence has) .
In the morning the water was a beautiful shade of blue – into the afternoon it curiously turned into an interesting shade of yellow. It was still warm and pleasant bouncing though the waves so we put the change down to a differing light refraction from the moving sun. The locals were running a brisk trade in jet ski hire (motor cross on water – yay - a perfect way to enjoy a pristine aquatic environment – for the rider – everyone else gets to enjoy the noise, the fumes and the threat of being run over by some idiot who has less sense and compassion than a doofdoof enabled Tuktuk driver) and Parasailing - which created lots of nice fumes as well..
Izzy and mum had the pleasure of agreeing to the services of a local woman who smeared some sort of clear goop all over them and then told them to wait for 30 minutes before washing it off. Not wanting to wait that long they duly headed into the surf to cleanse themselves and thus the colour change of the water was explained....
Dad did his best to get some sort of sun burn by spending a couple of hours waiting for the perfect wave to body surf and everyone else basically just lounged around on the deck chairs and R&R’d. Eventually the dogs sleeping under the deck chairs moved on and thus we figured it was time to break into the exclusive pool back at the hotel. This is much more salubrious than the one assigned to those of us families that reside in the family wing. So snubbing the signs and the associated authority that decrees we were are not of the required quality to use these facilities, we sauntered right in, signed out towels, jumped in the pool, swam over to the pool bar and ordered a round of drinks. Luckily we did not have to raise our prestigious heritage and family lines in order to justify our audacious behaviour – unchallenged, we eventually paid the bill and left.
Two days left and we are now coping with the question – do we actually do something here that bloggers all over the world may be interested in – or do we just R&R a bit more? Oh the pressure – it’s almost too much to bear.

Sun, swims and shopping

Due to Breakfast only being served until 10:00 am we dragged our jet lagged bodies out of the air-conditioned room and through the muggy heat to lap up the resort like atmosphere of the buffet offerings. At least 200 people were getting into it, however due to the size of the facilities and the amount of choices available there were no queues (we do miss them terribly) and it was quite pleasant sitting in the breeze of the fan watching various people settle into position around the pool. Realizing that this was a good option to start the day with, that’s what we did as well for a few hours.
Mid afternoon saw us hit the shops in what we thought was the main drag (as we drove in through here yesterday). It’s dirty, noisy, smelly and confusing – at least the traffic is only one way in this area (an outcome of the tsunami inquiries). Everything also seemed a little quiet (maybe too quiet!) as in some sections we were the only tourists walking the stalls and some of the keepers seemed a bit surprised to see us. Walking the streets here, you face a barrage of locals trying to push their wares onto you. It’s annoying and sometimes confronting. Scams abound – we are starting to get attuned to them – sometimes it feels like you need a suit of armour to keep them at bay. Unfortunately we left all of those in the tower of London, so we need to resort to saying “no”, sometimes “no thanks” and avoiding sarcastic remarks like “if I wanted a taxi I would have taken up one the 10 offers I had in the last 20 meters – but thanks anyway so much for the offer old chap”. They actually have T-shits printed saying “No to massages and Tuk Tuks” combined with astutely placed swear words. Not polite but very funny.
After being insulted, chased down the street and sworn at for not buying a wallet he did not want , Dad decided retreat was the best option and left the others to the shopping spree and stomped back home, discovering another way avoid being hassled. Walk by yourself, don’t slow down, don’t make eye contact – it’s then pretty obvious that it would be best not to offer a manicure to this person. Perhaps the T-Shirt is a better option after all.
For dinner we headed down the main beach road of Patong Beach. We probably should have come here in the first place. Whilst the noise and the pressure is the same, at least it’s not as smelly (and the stall holders don’t swear at you). Possibly it’s more pricy though as this is where everyone that was missing earlier was hanging out. It’s very colourful at night - and noisy too as there are lots of TukTuks with Doof Doof. Which, like any vehicle in the world with doof doof; the only people who really appreciate them are their owners.
The girls got to have really cool drinks whilst we all had a great meal of Tai curries etc. Not that much cheaper than home, however the flavours were fantastic and we were all very happy with our choices. Braving the strip again to headed back to the hotel though the chaos ( incl. doof doof) stopping occasionally to get base prices from which to bargain with tomorrow.

The other side

Well here we are – made it the other side of the planet. The second flight was long and drawn out as we needed to sleep but our surroundings we not entirely amenable to the task. The girls did O.K. with Isabel curled up on the floor and Louisa using the two seats above. Ro and Neil spent the whole time trying to find a comfortable position. Whatever transpired as a possible solution only ever lasted a few minutes due to either lack of circulation of the stranger next to us inching his way into our space on every opportunity. Thus a fitful night of snatches of semi-conscienousness would be a good way to describe the trip.
Bangkock airport must have one of the biggest terminals in the world and managed to cover most of it when trying to achieve our connection. Once we had done so the next 2 hours was spend with Thai airlines, this was a much older plane, less technology and yet seemingly more comfortable – this may have been the result of not being hemmed in by strangers . More fitful sleeps interpreted by snack boxes ensued.
Upon arriving in Phuket we almost fell over in disbelief when our baggage was ready before we were. This just goes to show that the smaller the airport, the better it is. Our prearranged limo was waiting to spirit us to our lodgings. Back home this “Limousine” would be called a “Holden” or a “Magna” Whilst the car itself lacked in prestige badges, number of seats, mini bars and a Jacuzzi (we wouldn’t have minded) and thus proving itself worthy as advertised – the driver certainly made up for it by flashing anyone that appeared that they might get too close to him or was in front of him. Curiously, this sometimes worked. It would’ve worked a whole better if the windows were tinted; people don’t seem to mind giving way to VIPs’. They do seem to mind getting out the way of scruffy, tired looking Tourists whose only claim to fame is that they’d just spent 26 hours being abused by the airline system.
Arriving safety, the room is nice (no views and girls think the wall paper is a bit toddlerish) it should do nicely over the next four 4 days. We had a look at the beach, the street, the bar and then had swim in the posh pool. Dinner was great (a Thai banquet in the hotel) and the weather is really oppressively muggy. We should be able to cope quiet well when considering what we’ll be experiencing in a week’s time.

An Interim Update

We seem to have packing down to a fine art by now, even though it still took a while to get ourselves totally organised and into the cars. Our hosts kindly escorted us to the airport terminal and made sure we were safely on our way before heading off to other engagements. Their hospitality was fabulous and greatly appreciated. It will be wonderful to see them in Aus in the future so we can respond with some typical Aussie generosity in kind – prawns on the barbie – that kind of thing.
British airport security is totally over the top, shoes off, belts off (resulting in pants around ankles), body searches, fluids in containers in plastic bags – confiscate this one and you can by another just over there before you get on board. Ridiculous, demeaning and a money spinner. Needless to say this created a bit of stress. Due to poor planning in seating arrangements we are spending these two 6 hour stints cramped into our seats with little room to express ourselves. No aerobics on this trip – not when a bump from the person in front results in a tea spilt all over ones lap.
Leaving the patchwork quilted fields of bonny England behind us we find ourselves back in the same place as our first day. Dubai Transit lounge at 1:00 am is as busy as 1:00 pm. It also as hot apparently. It’s 36 Celsius outside and we have no indication of it at all. It’s about 9 degrees sitting here and feels like they’re pumping in the air from that shopping mall that has the ski slope in it. Hopefully on the next flight we’ll get some sleep.

A Spot of Cricket eh what?

In order to make the most of the Aussie tour of the homeland and the fact that they lost the last test and thus to determine how low they can slide we headed off to Northampton for a day of county cricket. This is the biggest event that’s happened in the town since George Best kicked six goals on the same ground some time in distant past (so we were told by the dude sitting next us).
Leaving the kids with girls, Nick and Neil headed off on the bus, train, bus and bus (via Milton Keayes) to the Northants home ground in Northampton. After sussing out the ground, the seating the lax security and general country attitude to the whole situation, we grabbed two deck chairs from the bar area, sat tem down on the edge of the ground and promptly had the best seats in the house for entire day.
Neils expertise shone through when he declared the two Northants batsmen at the crease were about to form a long winded partnership. When the next ball saw one of them depart (2 seconds later) the laughter from Nick was heard around the ground. Cricket wise we saw Aussie wickets tumble (6 of) for about 100 runs, We then saw the locals hit some quick runs , loose a couple of wickets, form a solid partnership (see !) , to see it eventually collapse and then declare a sporting declaration.
For those mad keen Aussie cricket fans back in Aus – don’t get your hopes up, they were struggling to beat a county side – whilst it was really hit and giggle – they did not seem to be a team capable of retaining the ashes.
The boys did however have a great day out. This type of cricket with a jovial happy crowd, relaxed officials, perfect weather and extraordinary seats was one to remember for a long time. The end result (game wise) is irrelevant.
In the meantime the rest of the clan did this :-
Car to train station, train to Oxford. wandererd around shops driving Oliver to a case of severe boredom. Boots, Primark (2hrs), sat on a hill next to Oxford castle and had lunch where they nearly fell asleep and then walked around some more. Then came home. Apparently they had a great day....
Tomorrow begins the journey back to the other side of the planet.............

Catching up with Jeremy

Due to a big effort the previous night in solving the world’s problems it was a late and yet fabulous traditional English fry up which got us started for the day (Thanks to Nick). We poured the families in the cars and hot the motorways amid thunderstorms and sunny breaks and drove to the city of Windsor. This is where HRH spends her weekends sitting in the castle on top of the hill overlooking her estates and making sure the commoners are adequately contributing to her wealth.
Whilst we hadn’t told her beforehand that we were coming we were somewhat miffed that she wasn’t in when we knocked on the door. Subsequently decided that to suffer the indignantly of behaving like Plebs we didn’t do the tour and went for a stroll around town instead.
Dodging deluges we spent some time having morning tea in a cafe before we jumped aboard the local version of the eye. Somewhat smaller but far more intimate we thoroughly enjoyed the oversized Ferris wheel and the views presented by it.
After a quick stroll along the banks of the Thames (wondering how good swan would taste depending on the basting sauce) we headed off to Great Fosters. This was the country residence of Queen Elizabeth 1st (so they said) and was where Rosemary first met Sarah and their very own Jeremy (aka Bridesheads). Through meticulous planning he was there to greet us at the gate and thus the boys and kids left them there to catch up on old times whilst the clan headed off for some chips and frivolity on the banks of the river.
After exploring playgrounds, geese and paddling pools in the heart of toffy England they headed back to collect the now inebriated (albeit happy that they caught up) girls, watched them break into the old staff quarters where they all used to work to discover the only change in 27 years was they now had showers as well as baths. Apparently it still smelled the same – most likely this is the dank smell of 16th century lodgings – no real way of telling.
So we whipped home on the motorways, enjoying the freedom of lack of control as far as speed cameras goes (100 mph – woo hoo! - A joy in a brand new rocket) and got home to Bucks in time for a knock up meal and game of Monopoly for the kids and bottle of Moet for the oldies. All in all - that was really fun day.

An afternoon in Stowe

Another sleep in saw us heading off for a late walk around the historic town of Buckingham. The nine of us (incl. Sarah, Nick, Oliver, Nicole and Rory) strolled down the road and diverted through the scenic gardens by the river and into the town beyond. Steeped in history and relatively untouched by the ravages of the nearby suburban sprawl, the city centre retains its charm. We did a tour of the old gaol before heading to the supermarket in order to collect our picnic vitals.
We then packed the tribe into the cars and headed off to nearby Stowe and the gardens contained therein. Sarah and Nick have an ‘in’ a House master in the exclusive school in the grounds so we snuck in a back door and snaffled prime parking spots (heh heh)..
The area used to be owned by a rich family who, being unable to afford the upkeep of the grounds handed it over to the National Trust to look after and the buildings have been converted into one of the most exclusive schools in the UK. Therefore the money and the care are still there, but it’s also available to the public.
We had our lunch on a lawn overlooking a lake surrounded by various monuments and afterwards the kids played a series of athletics (sack races, egg& spoon races etc) and we then followed up with a game cricket. Spiffing eh what – old chap.
We then went for stroll around one quarter of the grounds in which we saw pristine golf courses, lakes, rivers, status, monuments, replicas of Parthenon’s, ornate bridges and gentlemen’s retreats facing the ladies retreat a ¼ mile away (well out of hearing range). They even had an old castle built which looks majestic sitting on the hill, but when you get close it’s not actually that big. We all sat in the pebble house for a photo on the way. Most of these things are someone’s folly, as in some rich dude had too much money to spend so they whittled it away on constructions such as these. It was very picturesque and fascinating to see.
Afterwards it back home as the sun was over the yard arm we sat back and nattered whilst the kids amused themselves on the Wii before going through the back gate to the park and playing real games. Followed by an amazing dish of Scottish Salmon for dinner - Absolutely fabulous.

Via an ageless Henge

Leaving the pristine west coast and the wonderful friendly environment of Porlock we ploughed into the tangled web of the English country road system. This would have been an absolute nightmare if not for HRH Beatrice and her subtle links into the worldwide GPS network. Needless to say she performed faultlessly. No wrong turns, and straight to where we wanted to go.
Our first destination was Stonehenge. This sits in the middle of nowhere on top of a grass covered plain, doing nothing and being attacked by really strong winds and thousands of interested spectators, who eventually leave after realising that nothing is going to happen. That being said it is fascinating as to how it got there and why they bothered in the first place. It pre-dates the pyramids, and they got the stones from a long way away. Thousands of manhours of effort – just so Druids in the future could tell which was the longest day in the year? – Possibly not.
Anyway – we were very impressed with the way they’d set the whole show up with the private commentary machines and we didn’t really mind not being able to walk between the monoliths (soil erosion etc.). After having a superb picnic (supplied by Polly) sitting on the nearby grass we headed off to Avebury to have a poke around there. This was impressive, not just all the big rocks around the village (why? – no one knows) but also the local conical hill (why? - no one knows) and the pictures of horses on the hills (why? – no one knows). All of this implies a whole lot of effort of people in the past in order to make sure the people of the future would think about what they were doing. It could be a just sense of humour on their behalf.
We then headed off the Sarah and Nick’s place in Buckingham which is settled nicely in a green valley in middle of town overlooking bowling greens, tennis courts and the parklands of the university. After dinner we went for walk whilst the kids rode bikes. Much fun was had, chasing friendly black cats and playing a game called apple throwing (aka Scrumping).

Mist on the Moors

Due to the rain we decided not to catch an open top double Decker bus to the twin towns of Lynmouth and Lynton and drove instead. This turned out to be a good choice as the rain was persisting down for most of the day. Up on top of the Moors it was actually persisting down rather heavily.
The towns are based on steep cliffs (one up, one down) in an extremely picturesque part of the country. The gushing rivers join just before running into the sea. Here they have created a port of sorts and have built a commerce out of being a tourist town since the beginnings of the industrial revolution. The heart of the two towns is the tram car which links the two without anyone having to expend any energy. The said energy is supplied by water (they have plenty) so the cable cars are filled with a heap of water, the differential between the weight going up and down is sorted out by the appropriate amount of water. Thus is does not use electricity at all. It’s the most green form of transport in the world. Very cool - especially since it’s over 100 years old and still working well.

So in the rain we rode up, walked around Lynton in the misty rain and rode back down again in the rain to Lynmouth, had some great fish and chips (not soggy) and drove back home over the moors. Due to an accident on Porlock Hill (gradient 25%) we had to detour into some obscure parts of the moors. This was a fascinating drive though long tunnels of greenery, mist covered hills, winding roads, a wilderness in which you can see for miles (sometimes obscured by clouds) and classic old villages nestled over bridges at the bottom of steep valleys.
We left the gloomy weather behind us in the moors and headed back to town where the sun was beginning to shine and the people were emerging from under their thatched roofs. After some R&R we then went for a walk, wandered around the horseshoe loop up the valley and took in the ambiance of the quaint country setting.
Dinner in the Ship Pub (700 years of history) was great. Good food, wine, company and lots of laughs were had by all. No doubt we’ll all sleep well tonight.

Through time to the top of the Moors

For the first time in 4 weeks we got to sleep in - in peace. Porlock is a quiet country town in a quiet part of the country and to be able lounge in bed until 9 am with no street noise invading our privacy through the windows was a total pleasure. After a leisurely start we strolled up to the local pet food shop (which also sells everything else – postcards as well) we waited for Richard to turn up. And he did. Thus the peace was shattered.
Richard was born in these parts, spent 23 years terrorising the world on behalf of the British government (armed forces) and then retired. Being bored he’s decided to spend the rest of his life terrorising the locals, their wildlife and any tourist that happens to get in his way. We were fortunate enough to see all of this in the space of 2 ½ hours by being victims (sorry – “passengers”) of his Exmoor Safari tour. As Polly is a local, we got special treatment. This meant many laughs, squeals, screams and soakings.
He has a specially capable 4WD which can go anywhere and he knows where to go and how to get his vehicle there with maximum effect. Whilst showing us the sights from the sea to the top of the moors, his unstoppable commentary was delightful whilst being educational. To the extent we could throw snippets of local history back to our hosts afterwards of which they were previously unaware of (heh heh).
We basically followed the old coach routes through the forests, up steep hills, through really tight, narrow, overgrown tracks, which were muddy, slippery and a heap of fun in a 4WD with someone who knows how to drive one.
We had the joy of scaring the absolute beegeebees out of some walkers who were caught in the middle of a track with steep sides and nowhere to go as we roared towards them. They clung to the sides of the grass covered banks like geckos to a wall as we shot by with a “thanks old chap – do have a nice day”. Once we got to the top we saw native Red Deer, native ponies, long haired sheep, rabbits and a plethora of wide eyed tourists as we terrorised them with our oversized vehicle.
Richard had a ball driving through virtual swimming pools of water (it has rained a lot recently) splashing water all over the place and managing to get a significant amount of it inside the cabin and thus over the occupants as well. He had wound his window up of course – so he stayed dry.
We covered local history from the Druids to the Roman conquests times to the 2nd world war. It’s all happened around here. After disembarking and slowly adjusting our ears back to the normal serene quiet of the area we got ready for the evening’s festivities.
A fabulous BBQ for which the weather held off (it appears the forecasts here are as bad as back home 10 years ago) we had delightful time sitting in Polly & Pauls back patio watching the afternoon sun slowly change the colour of the nearby hills. We took an hour out from our snakebites and wandered down to the water’s edge. This involved narrow hedgerows and through gates and paths running along the edges of field of bright green grass being kept at length by sheep. The shingle (stones) beach is not one in which you’d swim in, it is however very picturesque (as is everywhere around here). They have significant tides here (6 meters plus) so this has an impact on every waterside aspect. This means the shingles are stacked up very high (no sand at all). Watching the sun disappear over the waters of the channel and the distant Atlantic Ocean was very serene and a great way to end the day.

Under our own steam

In order to complete the available transport options in London we caught a Black Cab to our hire car depot. We had to wave on other colours but we eventually found the one we wanted. These cabs are great; roomy, full of character and great charm in the drivers. Melbourne could learn from this. As we’d called ahead they guy was there early for us and gave us fabulous service (“stuff the others – you called ahead”). Consequently we had the option of a car with GPS which we promptly took up and as it turned out it was brand new (apart from the 8 miles on the clock). So swimming in the smell of new car we easily negotiated our way out of London and Headed west along the M4.
Due to the advice through our GPS lady (we call her Beatrice – HRH Beatrice the 3rd) we avoided the road delays on the M5 and performed a detour through Bristol and the country side south. Due to a combination of heavy rain and trees covering road signs we made a few strange detours but generally managed to stay on track. Food stops and wind breaks slowed us down a bit so the whole journey took about 6 hours, but it was a lot of fun and to be masters of our own destiny was a lovely change. Pity for the drivers behind us wondering what was going on with our signalling (the controls are reversed compared with home) – every time it rained the indicators went on instead of the wipers.
And so we headed into “Bonnet Drama” territory. Quaint towns, green paddocks and quirky characters (not our hosts). Arriving in Porlock we were warmly greeted by Polly and Paul and given royalty treatment. Made us wonder why we bothered with the crummy hostel in London....
We headed up to the fair they put on for us (making us feel a tad guilty for arriving late), however the towns folks seemed to be enjoying themselves anyway. It was fascinating to see the exhibition of dancing by the Morrismen. These guys use a traditional combination of sticks, handkerchiefs, gun noises (well O.K. - they yell “bang” loudly) and excellent rendition of moves learnt from the Ministry of Silly Walks.
Afterwards we all (Carol and Ian included) strolled to the Top Ship (one of 3 pubs in town) for a couple of quiet pints, dodging the occasional light rain (locals with brollies, visitors without) which was fabulous being surrounded by the towering hills of the Exmouth Moors, the ageless thatched roofs, the fresh Atlantic air and the view across to the Bristol Channel.
We then strolled back down through the perfect pristine streets of the town back home to a wonderful dinner and good company and good music (once they turned Phil off).

A bus just for us

Making the most of our 24 hr bus ticket we headed up to Marylebone (not the station the road – bother!) and jumped aboard. Heading back down to Piccadilly Circus (complete with Eros in the middle), we did a loop-de-loop of the local streets trying to figure out which bus to get on. Once we did this we found ourselves in the complete luxury of having an entire double Decker Bus to ourselves (woo hoo), So we put out feet up on the front window ledge (just because we could) and enjoyed being chauffeured around London 12 feet above the pavement.
After a couple of confusing bus changes later we ended up disembarking at the front of Harrods. Being the popular place it is, Dad originally thought the crowds out the front and the doorman meant there was a queue to get in. Sadly mistaken, we walked straight in (being kindly reminded to carry our backpacks in the correct manner by the said doorman). We got our queue fix later in the day – so all worked out in the end.
Harrods is really cool, the food markets and associated areas downstairs are full of old English character and charm and the rest of the store is filled with expensive goods delivered with toffy English snobbishness. The amount of habbibs and similar garb worn by Muslim women was prominent. No idea what this means but this was without doubt the highest concentration we have seen so far on our journey.
Weaving our way through the packed crowds (and habbibs) we escaped out a back door where the limos were waiting. Assuming they weren’t for us we walked, bought a take away lunch at Starbucks (of all places) and made our way through the expensive suburbs of Knightsbridge to Hyde park to eat it (Mayfair must exist in this area but we did not see it).
We then trekked off to through the heart of the empire (passing many monuments and, (as it turns out following the Princess Dianna memorial walk) past the Palace, Parliament and onto to the Eye. Thus happily reaffirming our tourist (aka “Pleb”) status; by finding crowds to plough through, lines to purchase tickets, and as such giving us the right to stand in more lines for the “flight”.
The Eye was good, we were thinking that perhaps they shut down Melbourne’s simply because it does not compare in size, historical significance of the scenes or, quite simply, that it can’t be as good because the queues will never be as long as they are at this one - for as we have discovered, the longer the queue, the better the attraction must be.
Feeling quite proud of our achievement (when we left the queue was bigger than when we arrived) we plunged back into the milling throng, back over Westminster bridge and down into the misty, dank depths of the underground. Down countless steps and strange angles we twisted and turned until we reached the Bakerloo line. Suspecting the humidity and smell was due to the fact that we were significantly closer to the core of the earth we got on the train to Baker Street (Gerry Rafferty) and after a while, gasping for clean air, popped up just near Madame Tussaud’s.
Here we finally caught up with HRH. This is obviously where she was heading yesterday (not to Windsor as previuosly suggested).We all agreed that this would have been great if there had've been less people in there. It was however, uncontrolled chaos. We did get some laughs though, mostly by accidently looking at someone who was looking at a wax statue and thinking “who is that, should I know them?” and then when they move, you jump realising your error. I guess they set that up on purpose. For future reference – any practical jokers could have a lot of fun here – just stand still and look pensive for a minute or two.....
And so ends the backpacking part of our journey, tomorrow we start a new form of transport and a new style of accommodation. Blog updates may not be so reliable (due to social commitments) – do stay tuned though – we’ll do what we can.

From the Palace to the Tower

After a leisurely start to the day we wandered down towards the Palace, experiencing what delights the town could bring. Bond Street (completing the green set) turns out to be where all the expensive shops are in London. We noticed Southerbys’ Louis Vitton, Mont Blanc, Tiffanies, De Boers’, Omega, and many more. So it was equivalent to the Champs Elysees except there was no McDonalds in sight. After drooling at the Ritz we followed the stream of people through the park to the Palace. It was obvious something was going on by the hordes and the controlling Police (horses and all) keeping the centre of the square clear. Deciding to see what all the hoopla was about we positioned ourselves on a nearby wall to watch the action. The Royal Standard was fluttering overhead (meaning she was in), however the crowds and the guards seemed to be getting ready for something other than a royal parade - as there were no flag waving locals hanging around. As it turns out it was all for the daily changing of the guard.
What caught us by surprise was the appearance of a couple of police motorbikes (lights flashing), a Limo with Prince Phillip giving a royal wave, followed by a people mover with ladies wearing fancy hats silhouetted through the windows making a quick exit out of the gate and off down the road. The flag was then changed to the Union Jack. So we can now say we went to London to see the Queen (that’s where we’ve been).
We then tried to leave but got caught up in the crowd at the front gate and were forced to watch the changing of the guard from 10 feet away from the action. Unfortunately this meant a wall of 6 people deep and the only person who got to see anything was Isabel who we sent up on a barrier to take photos. It’s a curious salute that crowds give to spectacles these days – everyone seems to raise their fists in anger – on closer inspection they are (of course) raising their cameras to snap shots of what’s going on. We discovered we could therefore see the action through the little TV screens presented by the people in front of us. Really it would be much easier and more comfortable to buy a postcard.
Once the action was over hopped on a Double Decker bus and had a tour of the place. This was very enlightening and enjoyable. We ticked off some reds (The Stand, Fleet Street), some purples (Whitehall, Pall Mall) and ended up at the Tower. We spent a few hours here wandering around disturbing ghosts of the past and trying to dodge the rain showers, we saw the crown jewels which according to Rosemary made hers look insignificant and according to Neil made his feel tender.
A blustery trip up the Thames blew the cobwebs away as we entertained by a lively commentary. Disembarking back at Westminster we hiked up to Covent Garden where we were accosted by a street performer who was trying to get a crowd together through exciting the few that seemed interested. We were more interested in Dinner at this stage. So we found a place which served Fish and Chips (surprising not soggy – some things have improved) and then strolled back home though the misty rain wearing our multicoloured ponchos resembling the Telly Tubbies. Very English.

Over Land, Under Sea

Yet another early start saw us packed and on the streets by 7:30. Luckily with the train station so close it was an easy walk and stop at the patisserie across the road for breakfast on the run. The train back to Paris was exactly the same as the previous; we even managed to get a 5 seater cabin to ourselves again.
It was a relatively painless journey through the Paris Met to get from one Garde to another. At Norde we sat down for coffee and fries and filled out our paperwork for departure from the EU and into the UK. With a tear in our eyes we left Gabby there to fend for herself in the depths of the rail catacombs as we jumped onto the Chunnel Eurostar. There is no doubt that the rail system in Europe is well run. This trip highlighted it. We literary shot out of Paris at the very cool speed of 300km per hour. The vistas flicked by faster than a tourist weary Parisian’s raised eyebrow.
Luxuriating in 1st class, we couldn’t believe our luck when they rolled out drinks and lunch (Chicken or Salmon) it was fresh, tasty and needless to say the packed lunch we’d purchased in the sandwich shop stayed well and truly in its plastic bag – it was quite possibly the best travel experience any of us had ever had (or will again for that matter). To get from the centre of Paris to the centre of London in 2 Hours 10 minutes is extraordinary. Considering waiting times etc, not even flying could do better.
And so we arrived to the utter confusion of Kings Cross Railway station ($200) ; made worse because we forgot to research our destination the night before and therefore had no idea of where we needed to go – let alone how to get there. Phone calls, questions of railway staff and we finally got on the Underground to travel 2 stations to Great Portland St. (not on the Monopoly Board).
Our Hostel room is true Hostel stuff this time. Bunk beds and a pokey room – although it is all quite new. Its’ a joy to be back in a land where they all speak correctly. This means we are able to communicate fluently with sales staff and fully understand that they want to check our bags and not assume they are asking for frequent flyer cards. The train station messages are as garbled as ever though. One suspects they have the one training school for railway announcers all over the world (Australia included).
Whilst we would’ve preferred to sleep for 16 hours, we headed out on the town for a walk to see what the afternoon would bring. We wandered down to Oxford Street (Green) and were almost swept away by the tide of people. London is incredibly busy, noisy and chaotic. It’s also warm and humid – so much so there were thunder storms in the evening.
We drifted down through Soho (noting that this is a place to avoid in the evenings) and cutting a fine line between Piccadilly (Yellow) and Leicester Square (Yellow) we ended up in Trafalgar Square (Red). This area was also full of people, so much so there was very little room for pigeons. We then crossed The Strand (Red) and headed to the Thames seeing Big Ben, the Eye and lots of boats - we sat down at a bar, had some drinks, ate our lunch for dinner and hopped back on the Underground – back to the sanctity of the Hostel (complete with poorly designed shower). The forecast for tomorrow is rain – so we now need to figure out what to do in a wet London (Water Works perhaps?)

One château twice in one day

The day started with our promised sleep in and room delivered coffee and pastries (delivered by Gabby). We headed off to town loaded down with a weeks’ worth of washing in search of a Laundromat. Finding one and having a lot of fun interpreting the signs we inserted our load into the appropriately sized machine (after sorting it out with the only other two people in the place - who happened to be from Sandringham, Vic) and headed off for a quick shop. For Dad this means one item, one shop, knowing what you want and how much you will pay. Apparently not so for the rest of the team. So whilst the girls explored the delights of the end of season sales in Provincial France he headed off for a photo shoot over the other side of the river.
Upon returning to the Laundry Dad and Louisa then spent 1 hour drying the clothes and trying not to shrink the shirts. Succeeding on the first front and failing on the second, we eventually escaped and we all headed up the Cafe’ De Dennis which was named after the inventor of the steam engine (so they say). Lunch was a very relaxed and drawn out due to the slowness of the waitress, however we were in no hurry and the locals seemed to be fascinated in our conversations (they could hardly avoid them...).
We then headed up the Château Blois, which dominates the town physically, emotionally and touristicly. However it was not crowded which was very pleasant (we’d noticed this was the same in town - even though it was our first experience of a normal day here). We enjoyed the history of the place (including a real life Fencing duel) and fine views from the ramparts. Drinks and nibbles (purchased with some confusion in the supermarket)was enjoyed back in the rooms, as we prepared for a big night out as our last in the land of “bag searching check-out girls.
So we had dinner in a joint just around the corner which specialised in Wok cooking similar to Mongolian restaurants at home. The difference here is you only choose your vegies, they determine the quantities of everything else. We figure this is for economic reasons. It was great to have some food that was not wheat based for a change.

Relaxed and slowly getting used to the idea that dark happens around 11pm we headed back to the Chateau for the light spectacular and very impressive it was too. We all agreed that it was a good thing we chose the one night in the week they did it in English as it was hard enough to comprehend anyway. Looked great, re-enforced the stories we’d gotten wind of during the day (assassinations and key events in the history of France etc). And we all left feeling quite exhilarated. Tomorrow we part ways with Gabby as we head off under the channel and on to the land of soggy fish and chips and Beefeaters.

Two Chateaus’ in one day

The whole town was very quiet this morning. It seems the only sounds were the rare train trundling through the station and our Bus. The roads were almost still and very few people were on foot. All the shops were closed. It was a stroke of luck being so close to the station that we were able to stock up on supplies before we headed off through the Provincial French countryside to our first Chateau.
Chambord was built by a self centred French king who wanted to leave a lasting impression. He seemed to have managed to do this. It was fascinating to see how the building was designed (some say Leonardo had a hand in the central spiral staircase) and the succession of royal visitors over the years. We were not treated as royalty but we knew better. The girls have allocated their bedrooms and have grand plans for big parties once we move in.
Having plenty of time to kill, the girls hired a tandem bike/car thingy and took off for a circuit of the grounds whilst the more astute adults relaxed in the shade to consume a bottle of the local vino (which was purchased at the market someone had conveniently decided to run on this day – being the holiday) whilst watching the crowds mill around.
After more sitting around and nattering we jumped on the bus again to head to Castle Cheverny. This is located in the middle of a town which would have to take the prize for the best public flower boxes in the word. The Castle itself it still occupied by the original family. Through some clever negotiating skills they even managed to keep it through the Revolution.
So they now open it up to tourists and we suspect this pays for the upkeep and the lifestyles that they obviously enjoy. We spent some time wandering around the house, managed to get ourselves involved in the portrait room and then strolled the immaculately manicured grounds. Even the veggie patch had broken coloured glass walkways between the plant rows – very effective.
Ro and girls were a bit concerned about the overcrowding of the Hunting dogs. Threatening to call the local RSPCA until Louisa pointed out that the handouts even cover that angle and the Authorities have it all under control (so they say). Still, they do hunt twice week – the practice is still very strong. They didn’t actually say what they were hunting though. This, we suspect, is to keep the animal rights groups at bay.
Our trip back was through some provincial French suburbs – which look the same as any modern suburbs. Warehouses, shops, caryards etc. We did however take the scenic route along the river opposite the town centre which gave us some great views of the town. A walk and dinner in the main square (again) as every other option was closed to us and we’re now ready for a day of fewer activities and possibly a sleep in.