Tuesday 31 January 2006

Beaune

Nevers on the Loire is pretty much at the geographical centre of France and Beaune, between the Bourgogne and the Saône, is about 150km east of it, about the same distance from the Swiss border. It was an ideal resting place on our epic dash from Calais to Cannes, 1200 km apart. The old mediaeval town is largely intact, and traffic has to go around it as if on a gigantic roundabout, and any driver who ventures into it copes with cobbles, narrow twisty streets, the odd hairpin corner, and no parking to speak of.
It looked very festive in late January, with all the lavish Christmas lights still in place because in France there is another event to celebrate; I was told what but I forget. Help please. Pennie had had a tough day on the autoroute, snow and ice are not her milieu, with the occasional thought that we might be spending the night in the car, dining on digestive biscuits and water. And French venues are notable for the number of patrons who smoke. I can’t smell them, the old sinuses see to that, but it’s no fun for her. So she rested with some smoked salmon and crackers and apple juice from the Aldi across the road.
The Hotel Alesia is a gem--- madame very pert and French, monsieur very obliging, perhaps a little under madame’s spell. But I was dying to undertake the French dining experience, having observed at our recent overnight visit many warm and cosy little restaurants clustered around the town square, la Place Monge.
A 15 min walk into the town centre at –3degC meant an even sharper appetite; off the square I tossed up between two very appealing restaurants--- one offering wine by the glass the other not--- but I had in mind a small carafe or half bottle anyway, so Restaurant la Dame Tartine captured my affections. On Saturday night, about 7PM it was already quite busy, with Reservée on some tables, but I got a seat on the banquette along the wall, fumbled with my coat and cap, not knowing the precise etiquette, and dumped them on the seat opposite, at my table.
By this point the young, pretty but soooo distant waitress would have written me off as foreign, hopelessly gauche, and likely to dither over ordering. So I determined that such would not be the case, and when the maitre d’ approached, superb in black trousers shirt and tie, I confidently ordered the menu Prix Fixe de seize €, which offered four courses, each with three choices. First, Jambon Persillé then Beef Bourgignon (It’s a serious wine region, and Burgundy is nearby), Trois Fromages, and Gâteau, plus a demi bouteille de Côtes du Haute Rhône 2001. To my relief he absorbed it all without query, and I proceeded to study my fellow diners, between efforts to complete the crossword in that day’s Daily Telegraph, bought around the corner for 3€.
On my left a late 40’s couple arrived, spoke very softly at first, but warmed up and began to giggle a great deal. I think it may have been their first date. Ominously, an ash tray was placed at their table. To my right another pair turned up---- he tall, vacant looking and silent, she small intense and fox-like, remained glued to her mobile phone, and doing most of the talking. After ten minutes of this, they lit up a Marlboro each and studied the menu briefly, stubbed out the cigarettes and left. The waiter studied the abandoned table, shrugged in disgust and removed the ashtray with its part-used fags.
Then my dinner began to arrive; the ham jellied in aspic and parsley, elegantly garni with salad and new potatoes in mayonnaise, together with a generous basket of sliced baguette. The combination was delicious, washed down with wine and a mouthful of bread. My plate, totally scraped bare, was removed but sadly so was the bread basket. However it reappeared, fully restocked, with the beef and some small peeled and boiled potatoes. The one disappointment was that the beef had been so well stewed that it was rather dry and lacking texture.
The plate of three cheeses was a perfect follow-up. The waiter did tell me what cheeses they were, but I caught only the last, chèvre: goat’s cheese. All were fresh, soft and sharp, perfect to spread on the bread, with a sip of wine. It is not the French way to tell you what you are drinking, only where it came from, but I would guess it was a pinot or maybe cab sav, dry and somewhat acid. The cheese and the wine, softened with bread made a perfect contrast with the full bodied beef stew. Then dessert, whose name I forget, but a sort of creamy soft gateau topped with a fruit syrup and some cream.
By now the place was humming; every table full, a large group of assorted 30-ish friends having occupied the corner to my right, and ahead, by the door, a noisy and cheerful bunch of late 20s early 30s. But I was not the only wrinkly: an elderly gent with young woman and her son were by the kitchen door opposite and to my right. At the table vacated by Mr. Vacant and Ms. Foxy, a young couple with their three-year-old, his face glowing with excitement, were studying the menu attentively, discussing aspects of it in great detail with the waitress. This was clearly a meal to be taken seriously, planned and enjoyed to the full by all three it appeared.
This is what à la carte means, I realized: the meal is selected from the card, a full page, and not from the six or so fixed price menus preceding it. Well fed, but not bloated I toyed with the crossword a while, well aware how cold it was going to be outside, asked for l’addition, and paid my 26.50€, ($A 42) all taxes and service compris.
Outside I felt a glow of well-being: it had been a meal of enjoyable sensations, leading to a satisfying conclusion. The walk back to the hotel, up Rue Lorraine past dozens of very chic shop fronts, under the ancient ceremonial archway of the town and across the Boulevard Joffre served to dampen any alcoholic after glow and prepared me for a night of perfect repose.
However, Pennie had taken a bath, and found that the infuriating knob device to raise the drain plug was having a bad day, so monsieur had to be summoned, since my efforts had failed. He arrived with Stanley knife to prise up the metal plug and pliers to adjust the linkage: order was restored. A hot bath seemed a fine way to finish a day of many sensations, starting as it had with morning peak hour in Cannes.

France Wonderful France...

1. Marie Therese at Castellane in the Alpes Maritime… we’ve known Marie since 1977.
2. Laura, Marie T and Tibor
3. Marie’s home… it’s snowing so we head back to Cannes quickly but I do a 180 degree skid on fresh snow and ice on a corner of a hairpin bend… seriously scary.
4. Marie’s Hotel.
5. Villefranche-sur-Mer, Cote d’Azur.
6. Monaco Palace from underground Shopping Centre in Monte Carlo.
7. Look snow on the road as we head back north through Haute Provence.
8. Four bloody hours of snow, ice and camions just sitting in a traffic jam and chatting to Dutch Routiers while the male drivers in the jam very carefully walk through the ice to the side of the road to relieve themselves.
9. Hurray we’re moving but the trucks heading south are stuck now, that’s two lanes of them you can see.
10. Grapevines in the snow.
Toilet stop at last.
12. Pretty Snowy tree.
13. Compiegne where the Armistice of 11th of the 11th 1918 was signed.
14. Australian War Memorial at Villers Bretonneux
Graves and more graves.
16. THEIR NAME LIVETH FOREVERMORE
17. Ice on the fields at the Australian War Memorial.

Monday 23 January 2006

France

We are off to the South of France tomorrow, we will be staying with one of David's oldest friends, (they met in 3rd class). Peter and Diana live in Cannes for about 6 months of the year and Sydney the other months, we're lucky they're here at the same time we are. We also hope to see Marie-Therese who came to us from France a couple of times while we were living in Guildford in 1977 she lived with us learning English. Nerys worked for Marie looking after baby Steven when she was 18, Tom visited Castellane when he was 18 as well so now it's our turn.
We have our Ferry ticket from Dover to Calais. a trip we've done a few times before... we have a new map... we have some Euros and the alarm is set for 4:30am so... I'll chat to you all after the 2nd of Feb. cheers Pennie

Abigali Rose


Abigail Rose likes to walk, the other day she walked all the way from our home to her own… about 15 minutes at her pace… every now and then she would allow David and I to hold her hands but mostly she would just flap her arms under her little pink poncho and hurry on in her own way. Yesterday I went around and picked her up to walk to our place to play for a couple of hours so Emma could get some stuff done unaided by her little helper. While Emma was dressing her up for the cold 5c weather outside Abi started to get excited so when we opened the door she couldn’t get out quick enough and as we started up the path her little face was full of smiles, she was shouting in excitement and her little arms were flapping away, she only turned back briefly to wave goodbye to her mother and then she was off…. Till…. A little boy aged about 8 walked by… she stopped and stared then as he looked back to smile at her she was turning around and running after him!!

I picked her up to walk around the corner and she craned her neck and wiggled and giggled only to find the little boy had now reached his home so was out of sight. I put her down again and she pattered off in her happy way… till… she spied a group of young teenagers playing ball under the ‘No Ball Games’ sign… Great she thought I want to play too!! Anyway after several other stops we made it to 188 and when she realized where she was she was up the garden path and waiting to come inside to play. Memo to self… Don’t suggest a walk with Abi when School is out LOL

Friday 20 January 2006

Nine Blogs

Dear Readers,
I have just put nine new Blog entries up, some are small but there are a few that are enormous so I'd save some for another day if I was you LOL Not much happening till we leave for France very early Monday morning... we will check our mail before we go.

Look who's moved into Turramurra.


Lorrikeets

King Parrots.

Cockatoos.

Rosellas.

On Real Ale by David


Our time in Britain was always going to involve B & B. Beer and Buses. But both have been eye-openers---- in sheer scale. Hardly a week goes by in the March-to-November period without an event somewhere involving old buses, and almost every town has its bus enthusiasts’ group, or even museum. And real ale has had a revival of awesome proportions in the time since we last came, 29 years ago.
At that time CAMRA, Campaign for Real Ale, was a fledgling movement, perceived as vaguely akin to the anti-nuclear protest movement, or the Animal Rights League. Now it has hundreds of active branches, thousands of members,
and publishes an annual Good Beer Guide of 800-plus pages.
Our time in Devon and Cornwall must rate as an epiphany of Real Ales. Nearby Plymouth has 15 pubs listed in the guide: a staggering figure for a modest provincial city. The counties of Devon and Cornwall, fairly remote and quiet in English terms, together boast 34 independent breweries . (London, with 20-odd million people, has 10).
Now to put some hoary old myths to rest. Yes, real ales are ‘flat’, and a bit warmer than ice-cold lager. Any colder and the flavour is destroyed. You would just as much think of chilling a fine Australian Merlot as chilling an ale. It is drawn, lifted in fact, by a hand-operated suction pump (beer engine), from the cellar, where it is kept ideally at about 12-15deg C. The sucking action releases from the beer a cloud of CO2 gas, produced naturally during fermentation and also during later storage in the cask, which gives the pint a head that quietly subsides, but there is still some dissolved gas to give a gentle bite on the tongue.
The recipe has only three ingredients: barley in which the starch has been converted to sugar by malting, and hops, and yeast. There are dozens of variations on the malting procedure, from roasted malt (Guinness) to pale malt for pale ale, and at least a dozen hop varieties. (Fuggles and Goldings are the main ones in British Ales). Yeast is the natural enzyme, which lives on sugars and converts them to alcohol and carbon dioxide plus millions of extra yeast cells. (Vegemite). Brewers have huge freedom to try various combinations of malts, hop varieties, yeast cultures and brewing temperatures and times to produce thousands of different styles of ale. Even so, wine, with only one ingredient (plus yeast) comes in an infinitely greater range of styles, and prices.
Sadly, bottling real ale is a disaster: the result is never as pleasing as the draught product, which is aged for no more than a few weeks or months in the cask. Pubs are the only places to find a decent ale: and the publican has to keep his cellar in order and his pipes and pumps clean. Cooper’s is the nearest Australia comes to a real ale, actually conditioned (given its head) in the bottle.
Armed with our CAMRA bible, Pennie (yes) decided we would lunch on Tuesday at the Blisland Inn. I can do no better than quote the entry:
“Still CAMRA’s premier pub in Cornwall, the Blisland continues to offer an eclectic choice of real ales, with over 2,000 different brews passing over the bar to date. A former national Pub of the Year and four times local winner, the inn strongly supports Cornish breweries which are featured heavily in the line-up of seven beers and ciders on offer. The pub has a strong community focus and good food is served, prepared with locally-sourced fresh produce.”
Where is it? Nowhere. The village of Blisland has maybe 100 inhabitants, and is at the western edge of Bodmin Moor, miles from the nearest towns of Bodmin and Lostwithiel, but the place is booming: people find it in the CAMRA book I suppose. The publican is a heavily tattooed ex-Navy man, probably from Portsmouth, and he goes off to London every year or so to receive yet another award. Otherwise he never leaves the county, he says.
For the customer it is hard work but the job has to be done: the fruits of the brewers’ labours must be tasted. Services are held daily in inns of worship, from 10AM to closing time. And here we have an insight into the basic weakness of Islam and Shariah Law: what is the point of turning up in Heaven/Paradise with the liver of a five-year-old and sore knees?

Thursday 19 January 2006

Happy Birthday Michael.


It's my Nephew Michael's Birthday... Michael has arrived back in Australia after his European trip... I hope you have a good Day, cheers Pennie and David.

Wednesday 18 January 2006

Back to Wood Green.

What a couple of successful, fun and long days we’ve had, we feel we are all West Countried out and Emma needs us back in London, Tomo has to go to France at the last minute and Emma has a job on… a chance to play with Abigail Rose for the day is too good to pass up… so we decide to say good bye to the beautiful Newton Ferrers and Peter and Sue’s very comfortable holiday home and make our way home via Bath. I had missed seeing the American Patchwork shop and we hadn’t got near the Roman Baths, which we did want to do so off to Exeter to meet the M5 towards Bristol… that’s 119 miles (191K). We leave the West Country very much admiring it’s beauty and lifestyle, every back lane we drove along had it’s hedges just been pruned or were in the process of being pruned… I’m talking millions of miles of hedges at a bet and the farms, they all looked busy and in excellent condition, something you just don’t see in Australia with the Drought and all…it’s so much tougher to farm in Australia, all the farm areas we’ve seen in Britain make it look so easy in comparison… what did the First White settlers think after leaving England eh?

We found our way into Bath and to our last parking spot as if we were old hands at coming into town… time for Lunch… and silly to say we choose the local Turkish Restaurant LOL we are surrounded by Turkish Restaurants here in Wood Green but it is good grub and this one was excellent.

As we walk around this incredibly old and historic town we again marvel at the blasé way it’s locals seem to walk past century’s old buildings… we particularly love the white stone that most of the buildings and Terrace homes are made of… what a lovely place this is!

Old Glory was a waste of time, it’s not really a Patchwork Shop but it did have a couple of very expensive cheaply made in Taiwan Quilts for sale… the shop is owned by Swedes and half the shop sells Swedish Antiques… interesting but disappointing. I asked around for the other Patchwork Shop friends had told me about but the man at the Post Office Museum told me it had closed!

Off to see the Roman Baths… it costs £10 to go in and two coach loads of tourists have just arrived… we’ve been here twice before so decide a look at the outdoor bath is enough and head for home which is still a 4 hour drive and almost another 100 miles (106k). Thankfully most of it’s on the Motorway and David can share the driving with me… don’t misunderstand me, he’s allowed to drive on windy roads as well but if he does he and I both get fed up with me throwing up!! Ho hum!!

Tuesday 17 January 2006

Back Track.

After speaking to Mum on the phone I am now more au fait with ‘Trebartha’ and discover that those unused gates we first stopped at have a Rodd Crest on them… we have to go back and see them. Back along beautiful patchwork quilt like countryside with unbroken hedges, which we discover are made of stone on the bottom with hedge plants, ivy, blackberry and what ever else will grow keeping the stone wall intact, no wonder we hardly see any broken down dry stone walls.

This photo shows one of the entrances to Trebartha, I guess this is one of the many little Gate Houses around the estate. Oh dear… I am a bad bad person… it must have been my Convict Ancestry that kicked aside my Landed Gentry Ancestry because something made me wiggle and wiggle a little bit of a dry stone wall and guess what?? A little piece of ‘Trebartha’ fell into my hands!!


Quickly off to Jamaica Inn before they set the hounds after me! I am interested in seeing the Inn not only because Daphne Du Maurier wrote a book set here but I am also interested to see how far it is from Trebartha because all this land was once owned by Rodd’s, it’s about 10 miles across which is quite a distance for property in England.

Jamaica Inn is all that I hoped, except it is in very good nick, I was expecting a run down wind swept stone building… but no the owners obviously know they have a little gem here and seem to have plenty of accommodation available… it’s an imposing old slate walled building set high on a hill surrounded by the windswept Bodmin Moors… just as it is described by Daphne Du Maurier, the sun was trying to come out but the wind up here had an icy chill to it which made the sign creak as it swung too and fro. The Museum was closed but I did manage to find a copy of Jamaica Inn in the very tatty Gift Shop and have got back into the story of Mary Yellan already. I remember reading this book many many years ago and it’s stayed with me as the scariest book I’d read… I wonder if that will still be so after being there and seeing it!
Jamaica Inn
Bodmin Moor.

Next on our agenda… Lunch at the Blisland Inn in Blisland a little out of the way pub that has won more awards for its Ales than any other in the West Country… David is in heaven enjoying one of his three ‘B’s Tour*, savouring the flavour of a pint of Skinners Best Bitter from Truro and a pint of Sharps Blisland Special and a half of Sharps Blisland Bulldog. The Landlord is off to London soon to accept his latest award, the first time he has been over the Tamar Bridge in three years.

* David is on a Three ‘B’ Tour… Britain, Beer and Buses!!

Monday 16 January 2006

Cornwall.

Padstow – Port Isaac – Trebetherick – Trebartha

I’ve searched the maps and written up our route so we are off for a day of discovery. By-pass Plymouth then through Saltash, Liskeard, Bodmin, Wadebridge, St. Issey and we’re in Padstow. We were just going to have a quick look at Padstow but fell in love with and ended up spending a couple of hours wandering around. The fishing boats you see in the first photo are all floating quite happily because they are sealed into a great big Lock… we haven’t seen anything like this before… on the other side of the Lock are more boats but they’re sitting on sandy mud and the tide has gone out and left only puddles! We wander around the narrow streets of Padstow once again patting ourselves on our backs for not touring in summer, there are few people about but we imagine the place must be packed on a hot sunny day.



We visit Rick Stein’s Patisserie for a Coffee and Diet Coke and are sorely tempted by enormous Meringues, huge Nougat slices and lots of other wonderfully delicious looking tarts and cakes but we are saving ourselves… we did buy a couple of goodies for Tom and Emma though… next we find Rick Stein’s Deli and wish we lived near by and could stock up on fresh meat, cheeses and fish but only buy a loaf of Sour Dough bread to go with our Scotch Broth soup tonight! Rick Stein’s Fish and Chip Shop is where we are headed and why we are saving ourselves… Monkfish is something I’ve heard Rick Stein rave about so I can’t go past the grilled Monkfish with salad and chips, which was absolutely delicious; David chose the Battered Hake which he says was just as good.
Rick Steins Restaurant.

Port Isaac is next on our agenda, this is where they film ‘Doc Martin’ but it’s started to rain, road works are in progress and the road in to the harbour is very narrow… a long walk seems the only option but we decide to give it a miss because we don’t want to miss seeing a couple of places that Rodd’s came from so we head off to Trebetherick to find the St Endoc Church which we are told had something to do with Rodd’s… it’s the most amazing Church we have ever seen, in the middle of a Golf Course and deep in the ground it had to be dug out of the sand in the 1860’s but we see no sign anywhere of Rodd’s, I must check with Phyllis. John Betjeman the Poet Laureate and Rail enthusiast is buried here.




Now we are looking for the Village of Trebartha. About 200 years ago my Rodd ancestors lived here before settling in Sydney in 1820, we wind along deep cut very narrow roads that make us feel as if we’re in tunnels because there is no view on either side of us… meeting a car coming the other way is fun!!! NOT!!! We were so close on one occasion… inching our way along when the driver of the oncoming car had to put his hand out of his window and gently moved my wing mirror so his didn’t hit ours… the light is fading and we’re lost, right near some no longer used gates, to a large estate and the sign posts pointing to Trebartha have given up so taking a left seemed the only option and the next sign we see is ‘Trebartha Farm’, David jumps out of the car and goes in to ask if they have ever heard of any Rodd’s! The friendly farmer is well informed about the Rodd’s that used to live at Trebartha, which wasn’t a Village but a large house and estate stretching from as far West as Jamaica Inn near Bolventor on the Bodmin Moor to North Hill where Trebartha House was. What is left of the estate is now owned and worked by the Latham’s. The Army requisitioned Trebartha House during World War II and at the end of the war instead of repairing the house they dynamited it, many nearby farmers used the stone to build fences around their land. Dad has a book called ‘Trebartha, the house by the Stream’ I will read it more closely when we get home.

Sunday 15 January 2006

Happy 40th Birthday Timmy T!!



Our dear Son-in-Law Mr Timothy Guy Jurgen Thompson turned 40 today, they all celebrated at '333' and it sounded like a great day... we so wish we could have been there. We're glad it went well Tim... Happy Birthday Tim!


Not to forget Joon... Joon goes by the Lunar Calendar and it happens to be his birthday on the 15th this year... it won't coincide with Tim's birthday again for a few years... so Happy Birthday to you to Joon, so kind of everyone to put on such a great day eh??

Saturday 14 January 2006

Driving in the UK...

Driving in London and the rest of the UK.

Several people have asked me what it’s like driving in London so I thought I’d give you a general idea of my experiences.

Firstly… In Moselle Avenue, one has to think hard about taking one’s car on an outing especially if one has a parking spot right at the door of one’s own home. Our section of Moselle Avenue has cars parked on both sides of the road so there is only room for one car to drive down the Avenue at a time so if you see a car coming you have to duck into a space and wait till they drive past… our block isn’t that long and one can wait either up at Lordship Lane or at our closer intersection Darwin Road. I started to get a bit suss with all the cars parked in our road because I once saw a woman park her car and walk around the corner into Lordship Lane where there weren’t any houses. Up closer to the High Street the streets have Resident Parking Only signs… but not down our end. The other day I watched a car come down the Avenue and try to squeeze into a small space I was watching to see where the driver went! He was Chinese and went straight into the front door of the house he’d parked in front of… so maybe our Avenue isn’t always being used as a parking lot then!! I’ve had to drive around the block a couple of times before I’ve got a park and very late one night I gave up and parked around the corner in Darwin Road. We have frosts some nights now but if you are lucky to park under a tree you don’t have to scrape ice off your windows the next morning… but if the birds are pooping and you are under their tree… you have to deal with their droppings in the morning!!

Driving Locally… many streets have cars parked on both sides of the road but most drivers are polite and let you through or let you in… you have to know the perimeters of your car very well, I did have one very close shave missing one car by a quarter of a millimetre I reckon. I’m tough though I don’t let them bully me and most drivers are a bit like Sydney Drivers if you hesitate they won’t let you in! Every one gives a thank you nod or wave, which is nice. I haven’t found driving around the Suburbs any different to driving around Sydney except there is about 100 times more traffic and on some days you spend more time sitting than actually driving. Traffic is very, very heavy everywhere. I have to admit to needing a navigator in the front seat when I set off on longer trips, I can get around Wood Green on my own and now could probably get to Surrey by now as well.

The North and South Circulars… These roads are supposed to help one to get out of London without having to go through the middle where there is a Daily Congestion Charge of £8 ($A20). The Circulars do sort of form a Circle around London. We can usually get to the North Circular easily enough but are stopped where the A1 crosses over… then all of a sudden the North Circular which is 2 to 3 lanes both ways becomes one lane through many suburbs and this is where we all stop and look at the traffic stopped going the other way… this goes on with all sorts of dog legs and weird one way systems till we hit the South Circular and a decent speed but then again if the Roads Department hear a rumour that a small pothole may be starting to form… they close the road for 6 months at least while they think about what to do!!

Signs… We still don’t’ know what a lot of signs mean for example, what is a small yellow triangle with black in the middle mean? We’ve seen a square as well! What exactly is the speed limit on motorways? We have never seen a sign! Then there the signs that scare you but you don’t know what to do but keep proceeding because they usually pop up at the last minute when you can’t change your mind or back up… like… Weak Bridge or Weak Tunnel… I ask you what am I supposed to do about this situation?? In Scotland they warn you that there are Hidden Dips… they aren’t of course we found every one of them.

Country Lanes… These are pretty and cute and mostly bend and wind around goodness knows what and are single lane with a little tiny pull in area every now and then. Usually we have the road to ourselves but there is always a local who appears behind you all of a sudden and sits on your tail till I either duck into a lay-by or they turn off, I can almost hear them grumbling, ‘Bloody tourists!’ Meeting oncoming traffic is tricky, we think that if you are going up hill you back up but we’re not sure and you don’t want to get too close to those cute hedges because they sometimes hide stone walls… all I can say is that I haven’t put a scratch on the car yet!! Now if you are lucky to hit a bit of old Roman road in the middle of these Country Lanes you bless the Romans because their roads are dead straight and allow the locals to over take the tourists in safety and give the driver a good view of the countryside without worrying what will be around the next corner. Driving on these Lanes at night is not my idea of fun especially as the Locals know the road so well and in a hurry to get home.

Motorways… Unfortunately we have used Motorways quite a lot… it’s the best way to get from point to point without getting stuck or lost in local traffic. We have never been on a Motorway that didn’t have that little pot hole that needed at least 6 months to repair so we have spent many a while just sitting. We hate the Motorway Refreshment areas but the toilets are usually clean.

Parking… Humph! There are just no rules about parking you can park on either side of the road facing any way you like, we even saw in Bath one of those little tiny cars that look like a sneaker parked with it’s nose in the gutter… it was only as long as the normal car is wide! I’ve seen on a busy road one car stop all the traffic behind it while it waited for the traffic coming towards it to cease so it could cross the road and parallel park on the other side of the road!! And no one tooted or anything they just sat in their cars and waited. How many feet do you have to park from the curb you are asking?? Don’t worry just park ON the curb… as long as two wheels are up on the pavement no one seems to object!

Yellow Lines… Single yellow lines mean you can park if you put your hazard lights on and two wheels up on the pavement! Double yellow lines mean you can park if you put your hazard lights on and two wheels up on the pavement! Both of those statements are TIC of course you cannot park on either but the only lines I have seen working are the Double Red Lines, nobody but nobody parks on them!

Speed Cameras… there are constant signs saying Speed Cameras but where there are signs there are no cameras… we think! We have learnt that yellow boxes beside the road are Speed Cameras but there is never a sign telling you they are there… one flashed at David on his way to pick up Tomo from the airport early one morning but we are yet to get the Fine, Tom says there probably wasn’t any film in it!!

Bus Lanes… are paved in red bitumen and for us they are a bit of a grey area we just don’t understand them… we thought we weren’t allowed in them at any time but there are many occasions when you have to go in them especially if you want to turn left and the Bus Stop is near the corner. Then there was that famous time I sat in a bus lane with the engine running watching if a bus was coming in my rear view mirror while David popped out of the car briefly… I got a Fine and a photo of my car that time!!!

Roads in General… With a couple of exceptions the roads in Britain are in excellent order, 9 out of 10, the road signs I will give 5 out of 10 for because some are just too confusing for someone who doesn’t know where they are going and looking for directions. Driving Manners are exceptional another 9 out of 10 and asking directions 10 out of 10… people are wonderful and eager to help.

Speed Limits… are in MPH
Distances… are in Miles
Petrol… is sold in Litres, so work that one out!

Driving in France… will be different, it’s been quite a while since I drove a right hand drive vehicle on a right hand drive road but I’m not expecting any problems with my trusty navigator by my side. We are well aware of the English French relationship so Nerys kindly sent us an AUS sticker with an Aussie Flag to put of our French made car… so hopefully they will be kind to us eh??

Friday 13 January 2006

Down to Devon.

About a 4-hour drive from London on a misty sort of day and past Stonehenge again… Hang on what did I just say in only 3 words??? Past Stonehenge again!!! These three little words don’t say what I feel, am I getting blasé about one of the Seven Wonders of the World? I hope not because every time I see Stonehenge I gasp! The road we come to it this time is the road I’m used to driving along in the past… we are on the Salisbury Plains and come to a triangle in the road, Stonehenge is in the middle of that triangle and the road to the left is the one to see it the best but the traffic doesn’t even slow so once again I wonder at the British who pass by incredibly old and historical parts of their country each day and take them for granted… we Aussies don’t get this chance at home.

Newton Ferrers is a tiny Village on the River Yealm in Devon. It must have been an old fishing village in it’s day and it’s just like the picture postcard you see of these little West Country Villages that cling to the side of a steep hill with grazing stock and crops up above and a river down below. We are staying in a home belonging to the family of our friends Peter and Sue Swiss; it’s a large modern home with incredible views of Newton Creek and Noss Mayo on the other side. Peter and Sue are here to greet us and we ooohhh and aaaahhh at the house and view then later that evening walk along the windy creek path to The Dolphin Pub for a scrumptious meal of fresh local Scallops for me and Plaice for the other three… Yummo!


Path to the Pub.





Next morning we awake to one very muddy creek, the tide has taken all the water out to sea! Peter and Sue head off home to their Grand Daughter Ellie’s 3rd Birthday Party and we are left to our own devices… David decides it’s time he tried to walk off some of those pints of ale while I prefer a smaller walk around the little Village and back to sit in the Sun… it’s an absolutely beautiful day so I enjoy the Saturday Telegraph and all it’s inserts sitting in the sun with the doors wide open! Almost like being on holiday in Manly!






Looking towards Noss Mayo from Newton Ferrers Shops.

Watching the tide come back in is an amazing experience because it moves so very fast… in no time at all the creek is full of water and all those boats are off the mud and floating again. There is a path that connects Newton Ferrers to Noss Mayo that can only be used at low tide… this is the path David takes to get back here… after a pint at The Ship… Hey I thought he was walking off some excess pints!!


The Tide is IN!











The Tide is OUT!

Sunday and it’s as if we are in another land… it’s grey, windy, wet and foggy but we head into Plymouth anyway to see what’s happening. I know we’ve been here before but we are really disappointed in Plymouth. The Hove is spectacular and wonderfully historic being the place Sir Francis Drake played Bowls while the Spanish Armada approached and so on …but it’s as if the Plymouth powers that be decided to give any Architect that could spell his name a job, we have never seen so many ugly messy modern buildings all in one place… we couldn’t wait to get out of there so headed for a Supermarket and bought up supplies for our stay and came back to N.F. for lunch and more reading in the warm while watching the creek fill up again… David has just braved the elements for a walk… and a pint I suspect LOL.

Thursday 12 January 2006

Off to Newton Ferrers

After all of us being in Wood Green together, it was only for a couple of nights… tomorrow David and I are off to Devon for a week. Our long time friends Peter and Sue Swiss have a cottage in a little place called Newton Ferrers near Plymouth and are allowing us to make it our base for our West Country excursions… we won’t have Internet connection while we are there so unless we get a Wireless connection we’ll catch up with you all later.

Look Jackson Harry :-)


Look what David found... made out of Lego

Finished our game of Monopy today!

We finished our game of Monopoly today, starting off at Marble Arch for better photos of Park Lane and Oxford Streets then back on the tube to Oxford Circus where we changed to the Bakerloo line for Marylebone Station and morning tea…

then back on the Bakerloo line jumping off at Baker Street to check out 221B where there is as plaque on the wall saying ‘Sherlock Holmes Consulting Detective 1832 to 1904’ then back on the tube to Oxford Circus where we walked down Regent Street for Great Marlborough Street which just happens to be where Liberty’s is… had a walk around the fabric section admiring the Kaffe Fasset new range but didn’t buy anything… back onto Regent Street and there was Hamley’s so we had to have a look at the 5 floors of toys but with two Grandchildren who have so many toys we didn’t spend any £’s here either. Bus to Piccadilly Circus and the Piccadilly Line to Leicester Square which was tricky to find as there seemed to be many possibilities… eventually we found the right one and had lunch in an Italian Café that also sold Turkish Kebabs. Walked to Covent Garden and found our last place… Bow Street!! Hip Hip Hurray… it took us two tries but we’ve have now been to every place on the Monopoly Board!


David has written up the quickest way to find all the Monopoly places so we will be able to do all 26 places in one day next time.

Wednesday 11 January 2006

Playing Monopoly :-)

One night just before falling asleep we came up with the brilliant idea of visiting all the places on the Monopoly Board. I know the game originated in America, Atlantic City to be exact and this is the game our children grew up with but David and my childhood memories are of the London place names. Of course we lay there in bed trying to remember all the names and the colours… silly thing to do just before falling asleep and we failed to get more than a handful of names each.
Next day David looked them up on the Internet and discovered that a group of young people had done a Monopoly Pub Crawl, so much for thinking we had come up with a brilliant new idea!

David did a couple of nights research at home in front of the telly, with the names, then with Tube and Bus maps as well as the A to Z. We started off with a tube to Kings Cross Station which is under renovation and looking a mess, then we found Euston Road and Pentonville Road before catching a bus to Angel Islington then a tube to Whitechapel and so on and on, there are 26 names to find… we jumped on and off buses, on and off tubes and walked and walked, it was great fun and the cheaper places like Old Kent Road and Whitechapel are still cheaper places just as Park Lane and Mayfair are the poshest of places.
Kings Cross Station
Pentonville Road
Whitechapel Road

One surprise was Fenchurch Street Station, neither of us had ever seen or been here before, it’s tucked away in the Business District of London behind one of the Lloyds of London offices and was a joy to see.
Fenchurch Street Station

Unfortunately we didn’t finish the Monopoly Board we still have 5 more places to visit… Marylebone Station, Oxford Street, Bow Street, Great Marlborough St and Leicester Square, these are all near each other so it will be easy to get around them in a short time.

By the time we got to Mayfair which is the only name that isn’t a street or station (it’s a suburb), the light was going as were both of us so we caught the tube back to Turnpike Lane and staggered to our favourite pub the ‘Toll Gate’… lucky for us the two great big leather armchairs were free so we plonked ourselves down with a drink and I promptly fell asleep for almost one hour! LOL I’ve never done that in a pub before… anyway it was Steak Night so after a good steak costing £5.49 each we were revived enough to walk home to a good soaking bath.
Park Lane and one of those dreaded Bendy Buses.
The Dorchester Hotel in the Background, David and I celebrated our first Wedding Anniversary here in June 1969

Costs… I’ve lost count of how many buses and trains we got on and off but with our Oyster cards we never needed to buy a ticket and the whole day’s transport only cost £5.20 that’s the maximum it will cost in one day no matter how many more buses or trains we wanted to catch! Terrific isn’t it!!