Monday, 26 May 2008

A SPRING DAY AROUND OUR VILLAGE










SOME PICTURES TAKEN ON A WALK AROUND ASCOTT UNDER WYCHWOOD.




































Friday, 23 May 2008

BUSCOT PARK



Having recovered from nine days of vigorous coach touring, today we set out again to do a little exploring again. We chose a place about fifteen miles away from our village of Ascott, a great country house called Buscot Park.
The Palladian style edifice stands in the centre of fifty seven acres of beautiful parkland, and you drive up to it along several hundred metres of old oaks. Interestingly, back in the 1860’s it had belonged to a rich Australian who made his money from gold trading. Now it is owned by the National Trust but it was first restored by a financier called Alexander Henderson, later to be made Lord Faringdon.
The house itself, while large and imposing is really like many old manor houses you find in rural England. But it was the gardens and the contents of the house that we came to see. More about the gardens in a moment, but inside the house is a magnificent art collection known as the Faringdon Collection and it includes works by Gainsborough, Rembrandt, Van Dyke, Rubens and many others, both very old and relatively new.
The various rooms of the house have been preserved or restored to their original state, with a main staircase leading to beautiful rooms upstairs, bedrooms, saloons and a library, all hung with great art, and through the windows, panoramic views of the grounds sweeping off to the horizon.
We spent another hour or so, exploring the gardens. Firstly a walled garden with beautifully laid out beds of flowing plants, and hung with wisteria, and all sorts of espaliered and climbing plants.
Leading away from the walled garden were long avenues of clipped hedges, leading away to flights of steps, and flanked with Grecian, Egyptian and Roman style statuary. Then there were the pleasure gardens, several acres of sometimes wild and sometimes neat and planned out stretches of trees and shrubs, flowering plants and vines.
We walked along the long canal like stretch of water called the Water Garden, reflecting the dark foliage of huge oaks, elms and beeches overhanging the gently flowing stream. And at its end, the stream entered a wide lake, reflecting the sky and the trees along its banks. In the distance we could see an old stone bridge crossing to a little island with a dome shaped stone temple.
We plan to go back to Buscot Park in a few weeks time when more of the flowers are out, and to enjoy the delights of that beautiful park once more.

Monday, 19 May 2008

A COACH TOUR TO PRAGUE,BUDEPEST AND VIENNA


Saturday May 10th
We are in Brussels at the end of the first day of our nine day “Silver Service” bus tour to the above cities.
So this how the great British public does its travelling to parts foreign.
Today has been like a combination of one of those old Ealing comedy films, and Coronation Street. I mean don’t get me wrong. It’s not a bad experience, it’s just different from what we know. We did expect to meet all sorts on a bus tour and all sorts are what we got. To start with our two drivers do a routine like something from a northern English working men’s club.
(Steve the driver) Ëhhhyoop – ów are yer orrart?’
(Passengers ) Yeeees!
(Steve the driver) Bloody éck yer don’t sound it. We’re goin to ave a woonderful nine days together, I can joost tell!”
And that was just on the road from Oxford to Dover where we joined the cross channel ferry. The trip itself was great. The sea was flat calm and the sun was shining, so we could sit outside and get a bit of color.
Well we got colour in more ways than one.
There was a group of Yorkshire folk chatting away to anyone who’d listen.
“Where you from?”, asked one.
Öldham”, replied the other.
Öh aye”, says the first bloke. “Well Oldham; now thars talkin”!
Then the conversation turned to pies and black pudding.
“There’s no pies like Wigan pies.”
Änd Bury black pudding is best black pudding, I can tell thee!”
You’ll get nowt from people from Bolton” chimed in another for no apparent reason, and everybody laughed.
Ninety minutes later we’re back on the road and our coach heads for Brussels and more continuous patter from our drivers, Steve and Mike.
A long day’s driving is ahead tomorrow, then we get to Prague.
Eeeeee, I can ‘ardly wait!
Sunday May 11th
It has been a very long day in which we drove from Belgium, across a small bit of Holland, a large bit of Germany and finally into the Czech Republic.
Sitting in a bus for the best part of 13 hours isn’t fun at the best of times. We passed through some beautiful countryside in near perfect weather. Once away from the Belgian and Dutch lowlands, we climbed into more hilly and varied country. There were rolling hills and deep green forests dappled with sunlight filtered down through the trees. And every few kilometres we would pass typical German villages and towns, each one dominated by a church steeple, and in many cases by the huge towers of wind driven power generators.
But it was, nevertheless a very long drive, so it was with some relief that we checked into a fairly ordinary hotel in the city of Prague.
Monday May 12th.
Today we spent exploring this truly beautiful city. The first few hours we spent on a walking guided tour led by a bright young lady named Monica. She introduced to the delights of the öld town”, which is basically a network of winding little streets overhung by lovely baroque style buildings and leading to wide open squares and broad tree lined boulevards.
Of course there are many churches as well a government buildings and great houses built by the aristocracies of the past. Each steeple and tower is topped with glittering gold and decorated with elaborate statuary dedicated to great Czech heroes of the past. As well we see busts and statues of cultural heroes such as Smetana, Mahler, Franz Kafka and others.
The city is divided by a broad river which on this day, sparkled in bright sunlight as we traversed one of the many grand bridges which span it.
Big tourist ferries as well as barges and smaller craft ply the river and later we would join a ferry for lunch and a cruise for two hours.
Before that we visited Wenceslas Square which is surrounded by many fashionable stores and banks as well as lots of sidewalk cafes. Barb and I enjoyed a coffee, or in my case a Pilsner (local chilled beer) and watched the world go by. And then on through lanes and winding streets and into the Old Town Square. There we saw a magnificent old church which features a huge astrological clock. In the square, open horse drawn carriages touted for tourist business and people with cameras, from a hundred different countries clicked away.
Then it was lunch time and we boarded a ferry for our river cruise on the Vltava River. We were welcomed aboard with a tiny drink of a potent brandy style drink made from herbs. It tasted to me of cloves and cinnamon and believe me, it packed a punch.

Lunch consisted of goulash and rice or chicken and dumplings, followed by a choice of yummy pastries. And that was followed by a cruise past elegant buildings and beneath statue topped bridges occasionally waving to a fisherman on the banks or to children playing in the riverside parks.
When the cruise ended Barbara and I walked through the sunny streets, eating ice-cream and looking at shop windows crammed with Bohemian crystal, colourful marionettes, tourist souvenirs, and religious icons, including a hundred different versions of the Infant of Prague from one centimetre to almost a metre high.
We went into a church of St Nicholas, one of those huge baroque edifices filled with gilt and marble statues and paintings on walls and ceilings. Then further up the cobbled street leading to the top of a hill, we walked towards the Castle area. There is no castle, just a castle area.
At the top we could look back over the tiled roofs and green copper domes and steeples of the city. A magnificent vista greeted us as we looked down towards the river and the old part of Prague.
At the top of the hill there was a wide square with a big square block of government buildings with guards at the front in full ceremonial dress AND trendy sunglasses.
We walked across the yard of these buildings to discover the gothic front of the Cathedral of St Vitus. Inside this building the semi darkness if lit with the glow of huge stained glass windows, some modern and some very old.
As we headed back down towards the city again we stopped to read a plaque commemorating the deaths of some hundreds of students who had died in demonstrations against the communist regime in the old Czechoslovakia.
We bought a local delicacy from a street vendor, a sort of doughnut mix but flattened and pressed on a hotplate so you get a sugar covered coil of crusty warm pastry.
We continued back to our bus, dodging traffic, cars, taxis and red and cream double carriage trams. The cars and taxis are obliged to stop at zebra crossings but not the trams. They have priority, something to forget at your peril.
Our wonderful day in Prague is over, and we wish we could have spent a lot more time here, there is so much to see and enjoy. But the coach won’t wait and tomorrow we leave for Bratislava and Budapest.
BRATISLAVA
Tuesday May 13th
Another unforgettable day in coach tour land! We hit the road after an early breakfast and headed out for the Republic of Slovakia, the other half of the old Czechoslovakia. Beautiful weather again and lots to see as we rolled along. Forests, farms and towns and villages hour by hour until we reached the Czech-Slovak border. And if we didn’t like the scenery we could listen to corny jokes by our driver Steve and Mike, although their patter is so quick, and they bounce off each other so well, they’re really quite entertaining.
We can have coffee, tea or beer and wine if we wish.
Despite all this, it was something of a relief when we arrived in the city of Bratislava, capital of Slovakia. It is quite big, again astride a river with many modern buildings as well as those hideously dull concrete jungles of apartments which are a hangover from the Communist era. At least they have managed to add some bright colours to them, thus getting rid of the drab greyness.
But the old part of the city is another story. Broad sunlit squares with fountains, statues, and beautiful old buildings with white trimmed windows looking down on cobbled streets. Barbara and I wandered through these streets for a while before settling on an outdoor cafe which looked a likely lunch spot. On the way we met a couple of our fellow passengers (of the whingeing kind) who asked if we’d seen any nice places where they could eat. We were standing in the Lygon street of Bratislava, almost surrounded by cafes and restaurants, all of which looked inviting. “But we don’t know what to do”, says the lady.”Ï mean you don’t know what you’re eating do you?”
I said Öh well, when in Rome....”and we headed off to tuck into some foreign muck called gazpacho, followed by a mysterious thing called a ham and tomato baguette.
I should stress that not all of our fellow passengers are like this. Most of them are very nice but as usual in these situations, there are always one or two moaners.
We have one bloke in the bus who only looks through the window to check the road signs against a map he carries.
After lunch we had about an hour to kill so we wandered through more lanes and into an old cathedral called St Martin’s. This was a rather grim and gloomy place with statues of bishops dating back to the fourteenth century. And down in the crypt we met a couple of them, or at least what’s left of their skeletons.
With half an hour left before we had to rejoin the bus, we headed back and then began to panic. We kept finding ourselves back in the same square, nowhere near where we should have been. Put simply we were lost. And our time was up. We had no street name to which to refer and no way of contacting our bus.
We were now nearly fifteen minutes overdue and thinking they would go without us. We asked several people for help but no-one spoke English.
Then finally, much to our relief, I asked a cafe manager while Barbara asked a young man in the street and both had good English. They both gave us the same directions and within minutes we had met up with one of our drivers who’d come looking for us. The penalty for all this was to cop a lot of wisecracks and smart arse remarks as we finally got back on the road. And I think we’re going to have to put up with this leg pulling for the rest of the trip. For example, I was telling our driver about the skeletons in the crypt and he told us they were the remains of the last passengers who got lost in Bratislava.
We have now crossed another border, into Hungary and have just enjoyed a good dinner in the Hotel Budapest, in Budapest.
Tomorrow we explore the city, but very carefully and sticking close to our guide.
Wednesday May 14th
We arose to another beautiful sunny day and enjoyed breakfast on the hotel terrace, watching Budapest drive to work, and admitting the bright red geraniums in boxes all around.
Then we joined the traffic on our bus, driving firstly to the Buda side of the city, through lovely tree lined avenues of elegant 19th century buildings and emerging into Heroes Square, which is exactly what its name implies. Here is a vast open space with colonnades on two sides of enormous statues of Hungarian kings and Magyar heroes. Atop the colonnades, statues signifying labour, warriors, peace and culture look down on the plaza.
At opposite ends of the square are two cultural centres, one a museum and the other a centre for the arts.
Our guide also reminded us that this where Soviet tanks beat down the student and people’s uprising in 1956.
As she put it, Hungarians were grateful to the Soviet soldiers who died liberating this city from the Nazis, but wished they hadn’t had to put up with the Russians for a further 40 years.
We drove on past beautiful public parks, looking up at the huge Citadel, a onetime Royal Palace in earlier times. And then up to a monument to liberation and peace which looks down to the whole city, Buda on one side of the Danube, and Pest on the other. We visited the site of the old castle, no longer there, but a beautiful area of medieval and later architecture, which still partly operates as a market area, with open air stalled selling souvenirs, traditional Hungarian peasant dolls, glassware, and embroidered linen. There are also many houses which once belonged to the aristocracy of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
We visited a very old church of St Stephens Cathedral, most of which has been restored, but some parts dating back to the fourteenth century. Much of the interior has a Moorish feel about, a consequence of the time when this city was part of the Ottoman Empire.
In the afternoon we took another boat cruise down the Danube, sipping fruit juice and admitting the fine old buildings on either sire of the river. Our ferry boat took as past the Parliament House which was inspired by the Palace of Westminster, but has its own Hungarian flavour with many domes and turrets gracing its walls. Further downstream we circled Margaret Island, a large island parkland in the centre of the river.
By now the sky had darkened somewhat with impending rain, and once we had disembarked, Barbara and I went in search of food. We didn’t want to get lost again, but we found a long pedestrian walkway with lots of charming little shops and cafes. After boosting our dwindling supply of Hungarian Florints at an ATM, we then had to change them into Euros at a bank. But the lady in the bank said we’d get a better rate at the cafe next door. We took her advice and she was right. We still had a little time to kill and it was turning chilly, so we dropped into a charming little cafe for coffee, and a slice each of that Viennese chocolate concoction Sachertort. Yummy!
Tomorrow, as usual with regret, we have to leave this lovely city and head for Austria.
Thursday May 15th
Another beautifully warm and sunny day and we were en route to Austria but on the way we stopped for lunch in the Slovakian town of Gyor. This is a pretty spot on the banks of a river with more of those lovely winding streets and the usual broad square. We strolled around in search of coffee and food. There were lots of shops, many of them offering tailor made dresses and suits, in a style of around thirty years ago. Quaint. We also went inside a very ornate church dedicated to St Ignatius, and next door what appeared to be a school which we think was run, or at least founded by the Jesuits. We found coffee, but missed the local bakery and had to settle for a McCafe salad roll, in lieu of food.
Then on towards Vienna along a ribbon of Autobahn through rolling green countryside, passing lots of towns and small villages with clusters of brightly tiled houses, each grouped around the village church.
We reached Vienna in mid afternoon and stopped firstly to visit the grand Schonbrunn Palace, a beautiful cream coloured edifice set in manicured gardens and shimmering lakes and fountains. It was built between 1692 and 1780, as a summer palace for the Empress Maria Teresa. (Among her eleven children was the ill fated Marie Antoinette) . Barbara and I spent the next two hours exploring the staterooms and magnificent salons inside. There were rooms trimmed in white and gold, and hung with great tapestries and portraits of Emperors Franz Josef, and other Habsburg rulers.
We walked around acres of beautifully laid our patterned flower gardens, admiring the fountains which seemed to extend for miles up a long slope towards a great stone monument to the Imperial Army, called the Gloriette, which overlooked the scene.
By then it was getting late and we sat down under an awning and drank a long cold Austrian lager, along with a sample of Austrian cake.
Our bus then took us out of town and into the beautiful Vienna Woods, where our hotel awaited. After a very pleasant drive through the Viennese suburbs, past characteristically high gabled houses, we arrived at our hotel, or rather our chalet, one of those cuckoo clock styled places with window boxes filled with bright red geraniums, all along the balconies.
But our day wasn’t over yet. Once we had washed up and dined, we drove back into town to an imposing building called the Kursalon Vien, a popular concert venue, where the Waltz King himself once played. We were expecting this to be a bit touristy, and it certainly was aimed at visitors to the city. But the orchestra was first rate. Of course they played lots of popular waltzes by various Strausses as well the famous Radetzky March, (traditionally accompanied by the clapping of the audience) and many other pieces familiarly associated with Vienna, (even including the Harry Lime theme.) It was a delightful way to end our first day in Vienna.
Friday May 16th
On the following morning we spent two hours on an organised tour past monuments and beautiful hotels and apartments, the Ferris wheel famously associated with “The Third Man”, and the Belvedere Palace, built by Prince Eugen of Savoy to mark his victory at Blenheim, allied with the Duke of Marlborough, a neat tie in with an earlier visit of ours.
We saw monuments and statues to Mozart, Beethoven, Johann Straus and so many others, in this city with such a great musical heritage. We saw many of the beautiful Art Nouveau apartment buildings, with highly decorated facades.
On the more bizarre side, we visited a weird architectural oddity called the Hundertwasser Village. Friedensreich Hundertwasser was either an eccentric genius, or a man who believed that there’s a sucker born every minute. Certainly he died a millionaire (in New Zealand apparently) all from clients for his unique style of wavy, lumpy and crazily shaped buildings.
We spent the afternoon gazing at more beautiful buildings and beautiful streets and squares, with open horse drawn carriages ferrying tourists about, and driven by Viennese cabbies in bowler hats. Feeling peckish, we visited the famous old Hotel Sacher where, a long time ago, they invented the decadent creation known as Sachertort. How could we resist?
We visited another St Stephen’s Cathedral, a beautiful gothic creation with shining ceramic tiles on the roof, and inside, soaring ceilings and magnificent stained glass windows. Here there was much less emphasis on gold and glitter, and more on the spiritual purpose of the place. And we visited the Vienna State Opera House. Much of the inside has been rebuilt after WW2 but the auditorium was just as it was when first built, utterly magnificent.
Back at our hotel in the Vienna Woods, another treat awaited. We spent an hour in a horse drawn cart, being driven through the forest and fields of waving wildflowers. One expected Julie Andrews to come over the hill and burst into “The Hills Are Alive...”
Then our last dinner, a very Austrian affair fortified by copious amounts of white wine, which lasted until quite late.
Saturday May 17th
Saturday was a bit of a bummer. We had to drive all the way back to Brussels, a very long drive indeed. Everyone was tired, although our two drivers, Steve and Mike did their best to entertain us. I must say my initial impressions of these guys, changed over the nine days of this tour. They were very professional. Good humoured, always helpful, informative and putting up with one or two people who never seemed to be satisfied with anything.
One of these people actually wanted to know why Australians thought that Brits were always whinging. We assured him we didn’t think ALL Brits were whingers, but thought it diplomatic NOT to tell him that he and his woman companion were perfect examples of “whingers” per definition. This was the bloke who announced at our table one night, when referring to the hotel staff, “They all talk like ‘ítler ‘ere don’t they.” We collapsed with laughter and I don’t think he had a clue what we were laughing at.
There were a couple of other people like that but mostly they were a great bunch of people and over those nine days we all had a great time. One couple in particular were great company. They’ve even invited us to stay with them near the New Forest and we hope to meet up again in July. Finally we reached Brussels and bed.
Sunday May 19th
The final day was made up of a drive from Brussels to Calais followed by a ferry channel crossing, then Dover to Oxford and then Ascott.
Fritha and Antony and their friends Dave and Karen were there to greet us, with a light meal.
We are knackered. Bed!

Friday, 9 May 2008

LOWER SLAUGHTER



Thursday May 8th


If we thought our village of Ascott was beautiful, that was before we visited Lower Slaughter.This is the ultimate Cotswolds village, like something out of a fairy tale. The place is untroubled by traffic although it attracts many visitors. It's simply too small to allow cars to drive through with ease. We parked outside and walked the few hundred metres along tree lined lanes past green grassy fields and a crystal clear stream which runs right through the centre of the village. On one side there is an old mill with a water wheel. And along the road, terraces of honey colored sandstone cottages, each with neat front gardens ablaze with color. The walls hang with wisteria and banksia roses. The garden beds are crowded with tulips, snapdragons, and all sorts of spring flowers. There are ducks on the pond, ducking for food by a lock, their webbed feet working hard against the current. On the village green there is a huge old copper beech tree, where you can sit and watch the world go by. Over the road there is an old manor house, now a hotel ,where people sit under white awnings enjoying afternoon tea in the sunshine. All we needed were straw boaters, striped blazers and we could have nipped over there and asked, "" I say, anyone for tennis?"

STATELY HOMES,THE TOWER,CANAL FESTIVAL & GREENWICH


April 27 to May 4th
The days following our Norwegian travels have been a combination of unwinding,laundering, visits to the gym and planning more travel.
Once we were a bit more relaxed, aided by a few visits to our local “The Swan”, we set out to do a bit of stately home visiting.
April 28th
Our first excursion was to Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire. This 3000 acre property belongs to the Dukes of Bedford and was one of the first to go public way back in the fifties. Outside, its biggest feature is a deer park with over 10 species of deer. But the house itself is something else. First built as a Cistercian monastery in 1145, the place was given by Edward the sixth, to Sir John Russell in 1547 and the Russells, later to become Earls and Dukes of Bedford added to the building over the centuries. The walls are covered in great paintings and tapestries of the lords and ladies of this house. The rooms are filled with elegant and very old furniture, dining rooms wih tables laid with silver and gold cutlery and candelabra, and Meissen or Sevre crockery.
The rich and powerful had a great penchant for collecting things. China, silver, Chinese andJapanese objets d’art, and all sorts of curios and the rooms and corridors are filled with display cases of the stuff.
Outside, the house is surrounded with beautiful gardens, sweeping green lawns and ancient oaks and elms and beeches. And by a lake, a bronze statue of Mrs Moss. She was not a family member, but one of the family’s champion racehorses.
April 29th
Our appetites whetted by Woburn, we set out on the next day to visit Blenheim Palace in Woodstock, near Oxford.
This magnificent baroque palace is the seat of the dukes of Marlborough, the first of whom was John Spencer.
He beat the French in a battle at Blindheim in 1704, thus ending the “Wars of Spanish Succession As a reward, Queen Anne made him a Duke and financed the building of this great house.
For over an hour we walked through seemingly endless stately rooms with hand painted ceilings and once more, walls hung with huge family portraits and priceless tapestries. From one salon we looked out from the windows on to rolling green lawns and formal gardens, with in the distance, the Column of Victory, a feature which rivals Nelson’s Column at Trafalgar Square.
We passed through the official state apartments where visiting royalty stayed over the past three hundred years.
And of course there was much reference to a more modern member of the Spencer family, Winston Spencer Churchill. He was brought up here, and was godfather to the present duke.
The gardens at Blenheim are worthy of a separate visit. They are the work of the famous landscaper, Capability Brown. Again they feature acres of sweeping and beautifully manicured lawns, and close to the house, formal gardens of box hedges in designs reminiscent of Versailles. In fact much of the palace was inspired by Versailles. There is a magnificent lake with willows and water birds, and a splendid stone bridge.
We could have spent much more time at Blenheim, the place is so much a part of several hundred years of British history, the Marlboroughs having played so many major roles in the affairs of the country.
May 1st
On Friday we took the train down to London, where we had arranged to meet up with Fritha and Anthony. We had tickets to see a performance of Shakespeare’s King Lear. We had a few hours to spare so we visited the Tower of London and enjoyed an informative tour conducted by one of the Beefeaters. There was the Bloody Tower, the White Tower, Traitors’Gate, St Thomas More’s rooms and the rooms where they held Rudolf Hess when he flew in from Nazi Germany. At every point our guide had a story to tell of beheadings and torture, royal plots and royal marriages and much more. We inspected the Crown Jewels of course, and to wrap up the visit we took part in a bit of street theatre, in which we joined a baying mob screaming for head of Judge Jeffries of “bloody assizes “fame.
By then it was time to meet Fritha and Anthony. We had a quick dinner at a restaurant by the Thames and then walked to the Globe Theatre. This is theatre in the round and is a replica of the very first Globe Theatre where Shakespeare’s works were originally performed.
The night was quite cold and our seats were high in the gallery, looking down on the open air stage, so we were well rugged up. Our gallery was sheltered by a thatched roof all the way around, which was just as well, as it rained for much of the evening. All this of course, just added to the atmosphere. The seats were just basic benches although you could hire cushions if you didn’t want to be too authentic. We hired some for the second act.
Apart from that, “how did we like the show?”
It was unforgettable. The atmosphere was something so different from a plush and properly heated theatre with comfortable chairs. The cast was excellent, although we couldn’t help feeling sorry for them, having to do the play in drizzling rain. A couple of times an actor would slip but no-one actually fell over. One actor playing a demented beggar kept dragging his cloak across the wet stage saying “Poor Tom is cold “and then wrapping his sopping wet cloak around his shoulders. What a trouper!
All the music was authentic too. They played shawms and lutes and oudhs and other things I didn’t recognise. All of this contributed to an unforgettable night.
Barbara and I took the train home on Friday and did a bit of shopping and catching up with exercise at the gym.
May 3rd
Back to London again to stay with Fritha in Little Venice. The occasion was the annual Canal Festival, when narrow canal boats from all up and down the canals around London and further afield, gather to show off their boats and generally have a good time. There must have been a couple hundred colourfully decorated boats moored along the canal just a few yards from Fritha’s place. We joined the crowds to check out the boats, buy rubbish from the various stalls, eat roast pork rolls and drink pints of beer (one brew called Bishop’s Finger...don’t ask!)
Perhaps the highlight of the day was our first experience of Morris dancing. This is apparently a traditional ritual in which men, and more recently women, dress up in smocks and baggy trousers and silly decorated hats, with bells attached to their knees and elbows. They then dance up and down, waving short sticks with which they shake at each other in time to music. Every now and again they’ll hit each others sticks together. That’s Morris dancing, and my first reaction was to say to the dancers...”You complete idiots!” But then on reflection, England would not be England without these eccentricities.
We had quite a late night, not getting to bed until nearly 2am.
May 4th
We resurfaced the next morning a bit the worse for wear, but keen to see a bit more of London. After breakfast we headed for Waterloo station, where we boarded a tourist ferry for a trip down the Thames to Greenwich. We set out under the shadow of the London Eye, the great ferris wheel where people can spend thirty minutes taking the view of the whole city. Given our slightly delicate state,we preferred to do it from water level. It was a fine, if a little hazy spring day, as we glided past the tower again, St Paul’s, the Town Hall, and many more of the city’s landmarks. Then the river widened out as we passed the old warehouse district of Canary Wharf, the Isle of Dogs and Bermondsey. All these places are now lined with very expensive apartment blocks. We disembarked at Greenwich and spent the next couple of hours enjoying its winding old lanes and streets, past the Royal Naval College, the colourful Greenwich market, St Alfrege’s church....who?
St Alfrege was an Archbishop of Canterbury who was kidnapped for ransom by marauding Danes in the 11th century. But no-one paid up so they killed him on this spot in Greenwich.
Also buried at St Alfrege’s is the chorister Thomas Tallis and General Wolfe, the hero of Quebec.
But best of all was a long climb up the hill the Royal Observatory. The observatory was set up by Charles 2nd to study the means of fixing longitude, a vital element for navigation.
Here you can see the official imperial foot, the imperial yard and most importantly, The Prime Meridian, i.e. 0 degrees longitude. You can stand with one foot in the western hemisphere and the other in the eastern hemisphere.
Inside in glass cases are four clocks. Back in the 17th century, these were created by a Lincolnshire carpenter named John Harrison. Over many decades he solved the 'longitude problem' thus preventing maritime disasters that had previously resulted from faulty navigation, by producing a timepiece that would remain accurate at sea. The Sea Clock would keep the time at the home port for comparison with local time as determined by the sun, thus allowing the calculation of longitude. The first three of these clocks were made of wood and needed no oil. They are still running today. The final clock (H3) was reduced to the size of a big pocket watch and did the job as well.
If you get hold of the book which I think is called “Longitude” by Dava Sobell and it tells a fascinating story.
We rejoined our ferry and while waiting in the boarding queue a local man carrying his shopping home, stopped nearby and proceeded to make very loud farting noises with his mouth at everyone there. He then trotted off. I’m not sure what point he was trying to make, but he certainly got our attention.
Home by train to our cottage in the Cotswolds.

NORWAY


OUR NORWEGIAN ADVENTURE
Tuesday April 15th:
OSLO
Today we ate roast reindeer and moose stew.
This must be Norway. We flew to Oslo this morning arriving at around two thirty in the afternoon. Norway is one hour ahead of UK time. It’s a cold day but not freezing. There’s some snow on the high ground but the city itself felt like a really cold day in Melbourne.
Our hotel, near the main rail station is pretty ordinary but comfortable enough. We found our way around when we went for a street trek before dinner. To listen to, the language, is difficult to catch, but in printed form on public signage, you can pick up the sense of many words. So many English words have origins in common with Norwegian. And people don’t mind being asked if they speak English. A great many do, and are happy to help you. After passing Mc Donalds and Burger Kings, Thai and Italian and French restaurants we found a proper Norwegian one and enjoyed a very filling meal. As I said, we had roast reindeer (for Barbara) and I had moose stew. Both were gamy meats but delicious when washed down with a glass of Spanish cab-sav. Tomorrow we have to rise early to go back to the airport. From there we fly to Kirkenes away up in the Arctic circle. That’s where we join our ferry for the journey down the coast and the fiords.
Wednesday April 16th.
KIRKENES
What a memorable day. We took a fast train back to the airport, and then flew 2 hours north to Kirkenes, right up in the Arctic Circle. From the air the scene was a wilderness of snow and ice and frozen forest from horizon to horizon.
Once on the ground we caught a bus to the hotel. Lots of snow piled up on either side of the roads, and once we’d alighted we felt the cold. Even though the sun was out, it was minus 2 degs Celsius.
Then we were told we’d arrived at the wrong hotel. Ours was 800 metres down the road. It was the same company but another name. With cases in tow, we slipped and slid awkwardly along the icy footpath, found the hotel, but only to be told they were full. They were very apologetic and paid for a taxi back to the first hotel, where we finally checked in.
The view from our room is spectacular. Red and yellow painted houses with snowy rooftops, stretching down to the inlet, then snow covered slopes skirting each side of a bay leading to the open sea.
But this afternoon was the most unforgettable experience of all. We went dog sledding.
We were picked up by a driver, (named Sten) and driven a couple of kms to where we met our guide, a suntanned Norwegian girl who introduced herself as Panella. She in turn introduced us to the huskies, Zorro (the lead dog), Anna and Bertil and three others whose names I forget. Our hosts had provided us with fleecy lined suits, fleece lined boots, hats and gloves and Panella explained the workings of the sled, before we climbed in. While I took pictures, Barbara helped Panella put harnesses on the dogs and hook them up to the sled.
Then we climbed aboard, one behind the other, Panella stood at the back, spoke a command to the dogs, and we were off.
For the next hour or so, we were transported through an absolute wonderland of glittering white snow, a brilliant blue sky above, and glorious sunshine. We were on about a foot of snow with the frozen lake beneath us and the only sound, the swish swish swish of the sled runners as were went along. The breeze was bitingly cold and we were glad of our snow gear.
From time to time Panella would say a couple of words to the dogs and they would respond by speeding up or turning left or right. Sometimes we would reach a slope and think the huskies wouldn’t make it, but they are remarkably strong and, straining at their harnesses, conquered every rise.
Barbara said she felt like Anna Karenina. I felt like Father Christmas. Of course we have many photographs should we need a reminder of that wonderful ride, but we both agreed it was an experience we will never forget.
When we finally reached our starting point, Panella told us it was traditional to thank each dog for the ride, and so we gave all six huskies a hug and a pat and walked back to where we had donned our cold weather gear.
A final visit before returning to the hotel was to another tourist feature nearby; an ice hotel.
This is a whole building with bedrooms, a spectacular foyer and a cocktail bar, made entirely of ice. Apparently those who choose to stay there overnight, sleep in sleeping bags on ice beds lined with reindeer skins. We decided our hotel room was more attractive.
Tomorrow we board the ferry, “Vesteralen” to begin our voyage along the coast through the fiords.
Thursday April 17th
ABOARD THE VESTERALEN
Learning to sail again and cope with rolling seas and tilting decks isn’t easy. Our ferry, the Vesteralen is not big but very comfortable. The same goes for our twin berth cabin. We left Kirkenes and sailed out into open sea at about 12.45. We are never far from the coast and the scenery is mostly black and white. There are black cliffs blanketed with snow on either side, and a lead grey rolling sea between. Before lunch we explored the ship, locating the various saloons and cafe bars. There are plenty of big sofas and armchairs in which to relax and watch the scenery go by. I’ve never been a good sailor and found the going a bit tough, though I’ve not actually been sick. Even Barbara started to feel a bit off as the rolling and pitching continued. Late in the afternoon we made our first stop on our voyage south; a town called Vardo, the easternmost town in Western Europe. There is an old fortress, the Vardohus Fort which dates back to 1737 and is still manned. It is octagonal and there are lots of old cannons. Though it’s only a short walk from the quayside, we had to tread carefully along iced up pathways to get to it. We also had to be rugged up against freezing weather.
There was a museum at the fort featuring historic uniforms and memorabilia. There was even a German Enigma coding machine. Of course this place was occupied during WW2.
Friday April 18th
HAVOYSAND & OKSFJORD
We are gradually adjusting to the ship’s movements. We are sailing along the coast southwards in the Barents Sea, and it is bitterly cold outside. Through the mists and driving snow, great cliffs of black stone and bare trees loom up every few miles and then slide back into the mist as we go along. After breakfast today we docked at a place called Havoysand. Another picturesque collection of houses huddled in the snow. And later in the morning a more substantial town called Hammerfest, this time Europe’s northernmost city. We went ashore and wandered the streets of this busy community, with quite a large shopping mall, and even the local equivalent of Bunnings. I wasn’t allowed to go in though. However I did buy a warm woollen beanie to augment my Arctic outfit of weatherproof jacket and trousers and gloves. Here we also visited the Ïsbjornklubben”or “Polar Bear Club”, a small museum dedicated to the whalers, sealers and other slaughterers of wildlife from the past. Norway still has a whaling industry. There was also a huge stuffed polar bear, along with white seals, walruses, snow leopards and eider ducks, all fair game to the hunters of yore apparently.
After lunch (reindeer again) we docked at a small fishing town called Oksfjord, where a number of people disembarked and others joined the ship. These ships are just public transport to the people who live here.
Spent the afternoon reading and enjoying the magnificent scenery from the warmth of our cabin. We also had an interesting lecture on the importance of Trolls in Norwegian culture.
These ugly mythical beasts are always male. Trolls were said to be there when Norway was a land of continuous darkness. When the darkness lifted, there were the Trolls. The Norwegians apparently arrived later and had to battle the Trolls for territory. Everyone here respects and loves Trolls, all except one famous Norwegian, playwright, Hendrik Ibsen who apparently thought they were dumb creatures and just a dumb idea.
Saturday April 19th
RISOYHAMM, STOCKMANES, RAFTSUNDET & WW2 MEMORIES
We are now sailing in calm waters between small islands and towering snowy cliffs. As we get further south it’s getting a little bit warmer. Then on through a dredged channel until we reached the town of Risoyhamn whose main claim to fame seems to be a stone where King Haakon carved his name, as did King Olaf. There were more stops to pick up and drop off passengers, before we came to Stockmanes, where we visited the Hurtigruten museum. Hurtigruten is the ferry company which owns and runs this service. Lots of models of the entire fleet of ships this company has operated since 1893. In those days they navigated from maps and a compass, pretty hazardous, especially in the long Arctic winter when there was no daylight at all. Since then more than seventy Hurtigruten ships have operated this route, which they call the most beautiful voyage in the world.
It’s hard to argue with that, especially as over the next couple of hours we passed through a stretch of water known as Raftsundet. This is a much narrower waterway with once again those awesome cliffs, threatening to overwhelm us as we passed. Our ship stopped for a few minutes to allow us to see the entrance to an even narrower channel called Trollfjord. Here green clad rocky crags dappled with snow, towered on either side of water so still and dark as to throw back a mirror image of the cliffs above. You could easily imagine Trolls hiding in amongst the boulders, waiting to rain down rocks upon us as we passed.
To wind up the day, at around dinner time we docked at Svolvaer a bit further south. We visited a local museum with the most amazing collection of wartime memorabilia thrown together in no particular order. This place had a remarkable wartime story. Occupied by the Germans, bombed by the British and Americans and home to Soviet POW’s and slave labourers, the people here had a pretty bad time of it until the Germans withdrew, burning everything behind them.
So this museum featured Nazi uniforms and weaponry, Norwegian free forces and resistance gear, as well as reminders of those Norwegians who joined the German side to fight Bolshevism, or collaborated under Quisling. They’ve even got one of Eva Braun’s handbags here, not to mention Herman Goering’s gold plated luger. But whatever you do, “Don’t mention the war.”
A footnote to tonight’s dinner. As an entree we enjoyed a slice of a very nice if rather gamey meat called ‘’Vestfjord Ham” . We found out later it was whale!!!
Sunday April 20th













LEAVING THE ARCTIC CIRCLE
A quiet day today as we continue south towards the city of Bergen where we arrive on Tuesday. We passed a tiny village with a school boasting 12 students and three teachers. Barbara was most impressed with the student teacher ratio, and we were told that the Norwegian government has a policy of ensuring that country children are under no disadvantage because of where they live. We pass hundreds of small islands and flat agricultural land along our way with those magnificent white mountains providing the background. The only major stop today was at the seventeenth century trading port of Sandnessjoen, crossing the boundary of the Arctic Circle. We are now in the region of Helgeland and it’s getting much warmer, two or three degrees centigrade. Barb and I walked the streets of the township passing modern shops and a number of picturesque older buildings, mostly of brightly painted weatherboard with white window trims and decorative edging. Not many of the houses have gardens but some have a few square metres of mossy lawn with different colored crocuses starting to appear. The local Lutheran church is white timber with bright yellow trimming and lots of gravestones surrounding it. In the town square is a statue of the poet and priest Petter Dass, a national icon.
They gave us a farewell dinner tonight with scallops, steak, and a strawberry concoction for dessert. Tomorrow we reach Trondheim and have booked a tour of the region before our last day aboard the Vesteralen and arrival at the city of Bergen.
Monday April 21st
TRONDHEIM AND THE VIKINGS
We awoke this morning in the port of Trondheim, once the capital of the country and originally Nidaros. 149,000 people live here so it’s quite big. Many of the major buildings are of wooden construction but there are also substantial stone and modern concrete structures. This city goes back to before 1000AD and was the launching place for many Viking expeditions. This is reputedly the last resting place of the Viking King Olaf, later to become St Olaf. His coffin is said to be buried under the Cathedral of Nidaros which we visited. It’s a beautiful old building of green grey soapstone with figures of apostles, saints and kings decorating its west wall,and a roof of green copper sheeting. Olaf himself started out as a pillaging raping Viking, responsible for a lot of slaughter, and then he got religion, returned to Norway and gave everyone a clear choice; become a Christian or lose your head. As we sailed away from Trondheim we passed the islet of Munkholmen, a monastery which dates back to the Middle Ages. It later because a fort, then a prison and is now a museum. On either side of us now, there is greener and lusher agricultural land, with small forests of firs and pines. The sun is shining and the temperature rising.
Our next stops were the towns of Kristiansund and Molde. Kristiansund is a relatively modern town having been destroyed by German bombers in WW2 and rebuilt. But the houses and many of the buildings are built in the Scandinavian tradition. The waterfront reminded me of the Hobart waterfront except that the buildings were red and yellow and green rather than dark bluestone.
We docked at Molde after dinner and the sun was beginning to set, turning the surrounding mountains from white to pink. Spring has really arrived as we go further south and there are cherry blossoms, daffodils and crocuses along the footpaths. This place too was rebuilt after WW2, the outstanding feature being a beautiful modern cathedral with a carillon Despite the northern climate there are elms, maples and copper beeches here, to name a few. Consequently there is a thriving furniture industry.
It’s now 10pm and I can still see the white mountains against the darkening evening sky. This is our last night aboard the Vesteralen. Tomorrow we arrive in Bergen.
Tuesday April 22nd
BERGEN
We got up early this morning to find our ship cruising through green and forested countryside, with tiny farmhouses clinging to the hillsides. The water is like glass and the ship seems to be gliding across it, hardly ruffling the surface. The sun is shining. It’s a perfect day.
Having packed everything and vacated our cabin, there was nothing else to do between breakfast and lunch, but to sit out in the sunshine and watch the scenery slide by.
We reached Bergen in the early afternoon and checked into the Augustin Hotel, and then went exploring. This is a beautiful old city and our first real appreciation of it came when we took the funicular railway to the top of the surrounding hills and looked down. The city is built around an enormous harbour and from the hilltop it looks a little like Sydney, but with snow capped mountains and forests of conifer running down to its edges. Then we came down to city level and wandered along the waterfront. Along one area there is a row of very old warehouses called “The Bryggen”. These date back to the 1500’s and was a major centre for the Hanseatic League. This was the centre of trade between Northern Norway and the rest of the world. The Bryggan is now undergoing a major preservation project. From the waterfront you can see why. The colourful but somewhat rickety old timber buildings look as if they are about to tumble into the street. Up the narrow alleyways between the warehouses, there are overhanging doorways for lowering cargo, and ropes and tackle hanging overhead. Again the walls seem about to collapse onto the cobbled street below. The whole area is now listed by UNESCO as one of 89 international historic monuments.
Barbara and I could have spent hours poking around in the bric a brac and craft shops that are starting to open up in the old alleys and courtyards. But we needed to eat and wandered along narrow winding streets looking for a reasonably priced restaurant. In the end we found one down on the waterfront and sat in the last of the day’s sunshine, enjoying a drink before ordering. On such a perfect afternoon, the streets around the harbour were thronging with people out walking and socialising. The restaurant that we chose had rugs draped on the backs of the chairs. We found out why, as soon as the sun dropped behind the buildings, and everybody wrapped their rugs around their shoulders.
Tomorrow we take the train on the first leg of our journey back to Oslo.
Wednesday April 23rd
VOSS & AN UNFORGETTABLE TRAIN RIDE
Up early this morning to catch a train from Bergen to the mountain town of Voss. We stayed at a wonderful nineteenth century resort hotel called Fleischers. This elegant old wooden building looks like one of those lovely old hotels that the characters in romantic novels used to frequent in Geneva or somewhere in Bavaria before the great war.
From Fleischers we took a bus and climbed up into the mountains. Greenery and forest soon gave way to snow and frozen lakes. We reached the village of Gudvangen where we joined a ferry of the same name. Over the next two hours we cruised the length of a glasslike fjord called the Naeroy, with steep mountains dropping down on either side of us and tiny farmhouses clinging precariously to the slopes. How they can farm anything in this kind of country is beyond me but we were told they herded sheep and goats. Our final stop was for lunch at Flam at the far end of the fjord, where we enjoyed smoked salmon sandwiches, coffee and chocolate cake while sitting in the sun, with snowfields all around us. Then we boarded the amazing Flamspan train for an incredible journey up the valley and rising to over 2,800 feet above sea level. From both sides of this train we looked down into deep valleys of snow and ice with fir trees spruce and pine all along the way. From time to time our train plunged into rock tunnels, the longest of which ran for 5kms. There were magnificent waterfalls hurtling hundreds of metres from the peaks, cutting down into dark shadowed rocky chasms, there were fast flowing crystal clear streams, and everywhere a sparkling white blanket of pure crystalline snow. We reached the peak after fifty minutes, during which time the train completed a full circle inside the mountain.
From the station at Myredal we took a much faster train back to Voss, watching the scenery change from white to lush green farm country as we descended. This was an absolutely unforgettable day in a week of unforgettable days. Norway is such a beautiful country.
Thursday April 24th
OUR LAST DAY IN NORWAY
This morning we enjoyed a hearty breakfast in the beautiful wood panelled dining room at Fleischers, overlooking a partly frozen lake with green hills rising on the farthest shore.
Then followed a five hour train ride slowly losing altitude as we returned to Oslo. From the window we enjoyed for a final time, a panorama of snow white slopes and bright blue skies, and here and there, poking out of metres deep snow, the roofs of holiday houses and ski lodges.
We also listened and felt a little humble as a Norwegian woman, an Englishman and an elderly German engaged in lively conversation, slipping easily from one language to another. Speaking first in English, the Norwegian lady said she had learned German as a schoolgirl, but she was much more fluent in Spanish. She and the English guy then chatted away in Spanish and included the old German in English and his own language. We just kept quiet and listened.
We arrived in Oslo early in the afternoon and took the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine and see a little of the city. On this spring day we might have been in Paris as we strolled up the beautiful tree lined boulevard of Karl Johann gate. We stopped for coffee at one of the many sidewalk cafes and then on past the Parliament building, the university and finally the Royal Palace.
By chance there had been the presentation of community service medals to some men and women and we arrived just as they were coming out from an audience with the King. The men were dressed in their best suits and the women in traditional Norwegian skirts and headdress, with embroidered aprons. As we watched a troop of Norwegian royal guards marched past. All very colourful!
We continued our exploring, visiting one of the city’s public parks which featured hundreds of sculptured nude figures, male and female in all sorts of curious positions. After that we walked on through a very posh looking residential area with fine old houses and apartment building set in tree lined avenues. Again it might have been a little piece of Paris in this northern city.
To get back to our hotel we hopped aboard a tram.

We didn’t know how to purchase a ticket, but coming from Melbourne, that didn’t bother us and we just rose along until we got to where we wanted to go.
We spent the evening doing a final pack. Early start for London coming up in the morning and I can at last put all this on the blog. Hope you enjoy it.