A CHRISTMAS ODYSSEY

On Beckenham Golf Course - Anthony, Barbara and Fritha

It's eight degrees outside, the sky is uniform lead grey and there's a drizzle of icy rain in the air.
The trees are leafless and the chilly breeze nips at your nose as you walk along.
We must be in England.
This in fact is our first full day here.
Our flight from Melbourne to Abu Dhabi and on to London seemed to take forever and then there was the interminable queuing through immigration and customs before catching a train into Paddington. After a lot of chopping and changing we found our way to London Bridge station and then out to Beckenham and at last Fritha's house.

Fritha's street late afternoon

By this time it was already pitch dark even though it was only 5pm.Fritha had two friends staying with her, both named Fiona. It was they who welcomed us as Fritha and Anthony were still at work. By the time they arrived home Barbara and I were pretty worn out so after a scratch dinner and a glass of wine we flaked out.
We slept on and off while our biological clocks caught up with us and didn't get up on Wednesday morning until late. The others went off to work and we had showers and a leisurely breakfast.
It was noon by the time we set off to walk into Beckenham to reacquaint ourselves with the High Street and also to get some much needed exercise.
We were both swathed in heavy overcoats against the winter chill and we walked the thirty minutes to the High Street where our first stop was the railway station to buy Oysters; not the shellfish, but the plastic card that allows you on to public transport. Unlike Victoria’s Myki card, this system works perfectly and has done for years.

We passed a brightly lit cafe while we were walking, so we enjoyed a coffee and a Christmas mince pie before continuing on to buy local sim cards for our mobiles. We were here to enjoy an English Christmas and it was beginning to feel just as we had hoped. Everyone hurried along the street, wrapped up in overcoats and furry hats, and the shops were brightly lit and decorated and you felt you had to go in and enjoy the warmth. A man outside a supermarket was selling the Big Issue and wishing everyone a happy Christmas. Those familiar red double deckers wound their way in and out of the traffic and the pubs were offering hot mulled wine to provide that Christmas inner glow.
By now it was lunch time and we found a table in a café called Maria’s where we enjoyed bagels and smoked salmon and Brie.
After that Barbara wanted to buy some clothes and as there was nothing she could see locally she took off to take a big red bus to Bromley a few miles away from Beckenham. I trudged home.
By the time I got there it was after four and it was getting dark. I began to wonder if Barbara would get home before nightfall.
Well she did, looking somewhat damp and bedraggled but having found a few things to wear as well.

As no one felt like cooking, we decided to eat out. Anthony was having drinks at work so we took a mini cab over to Dulwich Hill about fifteen minutes away, where we found a warm cosy pub. Barbara and Fritha and the two Fionas and I ordered dinner and drinks. I had a glass of Shiraz but when I asked for a second one they said they’d run out. On the wine list was a durif from Rutherglen. It was a wine I had had before so I ordered that. It turned out to be awful, tasting like creosote. Anthony had joined us by this time and despite the after taste of corked wine, we enjoyed a pleasant meal. When it was over we had to get two mini cabs home.
On the following morning I was feeling off colour. It must have been that dud durif. So while I stayed indoors feeling sorry for myself, Fritha and Barbara went off shopping together in Bromley. My only concern was how we would get all these new clothes back to Melbourne with only two suitcases.
Friday dawned a little bit sunny but very cold. It was time to get over the jet lag and walk. In the afternoon we took the train into London to see the Christmas lights and found our way to Hyde Park corner.

The "Winter Wonderland"

The area along the Thames Embankment had been transformed into a so called Winter Wonderland for the season. There was no snow but the lights were spectacular and the rows and rows of brightly lit stall all along the way made for a very festive atmosphere. There were lots of families with little rosy cheeked youngsters dodging in and out and begging their parents to let them ride the Ferris wheel or the merry go round or the ghost train. There was one ride that took you to the top of a hundred foot pole then dropped you to the bottom. Lots of screams of course!

There were really old fashioned rides too. Beautifully ornate merry go rounds with horses that moved up and down! And a real helter skelter with kids hurtling down and screaming with the fun of it.
As for us there were plenty of other attractions down on the ground. There were stalls selling every kind if tat from furry Christmas hats to wooden reindeer.

 And there were other of things to tempt the palate...Belgian chocolate, German sausage, every kind of brightly coloured sweets and of course fairy floss. Barbara and I found this place called the Star Tavern where we bought steaming mugs of mulled red wine. Just inhaling the spicy steam was enough to transport the drinker. We ate pork in a roll from a hog roast stall, crackling for me and pork sausage for Barb and later hot coffee. By now we were feeling a lot like Christmas!
It felt late too, but in fact we got home quite early.

After all we had been at the Winter Wonderland since about four thirty and even though it was only nine it had been dark for hours and felt like a long evening.
On Saturday we stayed home for the most part of a wet dull day. We did walk into Beckenham for the exercise and a little shopping. We found another cosy cafe and enjoyed bacon, eggs, sausage, black pudding, fried bread and grilled tomato...in short a full English breakfast. This completely negated the benefits of our morning walk.
To add to the culinary regime, we had takeaway curry and Indian food for dinner. The two Fionas had gone to Canterbury to stay with a friend so we watched TV and then bed.
It was Sunday and Christmas Day was approaching fast. On Christmas Eve we were going to Carols by Candlelight at the Albert Hall so we decided on this day to attend a sung Mass at Westminster Cathedral. We took the train into Hyde Park again and enjoyed a nourishing lunch, this time at a German cafe where we had bratwurst sausage and another mug of hot mulled wine.

Speakers' Corner - Hyde Park

Speakers' Corner

Then we walked across the park to the famous Speakers’ Corner to see if anyone was calling for the violent overthrow of the government. We were disappointed to find only a few God botherers preaching, and a woman who seemed to have some objection to former subjects of the empire choosing to live in England.

From there we walked over to Oxford Street to see the lights. It was already getting dark and Oxford Street was all lit up with Christmas decorations.

Oxford St

Oxford St

Oxford Street Shop Decorations

Oxford Street

The traffic was horrendous.  Double decker red buses weaving their way through the traffic, and on the footpaths, people bustling along in and out of the big department stores, Debenhams, John Lewis, Marks and Spencers and many more, their windows brightly decorated with Christmas scenes and all the traditional Yuletide stuff. We did a little shopping, and then took the tube to Victoria Station. There we collected our online booked tickets to Liverpool for later in the week.

Westminster Cathedral was only a few hundred meters from the station so even though we were early, we headed there and chose a pew well up the front before Mass began. The congregation consisted of several hundred people, some visitors like us, and some regulars. The celebrant was a Fr Durand, a retired priest in his eighties who was quite frail. But when he began the Mass, he spoke in the strong and beautifully modulated voice of a much younger man. The responses were sung and some of them, such as the Agnus Dei were in Latin. Altogether it was a really lovely Advent service although Barbara was a little disappointed that there were no carols. We would have to wait for the Albert Hall for that.
We arrived home in time to see a Tesco van unloading Christmas food to Fritha's place. It seemed there was going to be more food than eight of us could ever eat. There was a goose and all the traditional Christmas stuff, enough to feed an army. Anthony would be doing the cooking and he tends to think big.
Christmas Eve and the pace was hotting up; well metaphorically at least. It was raining and cold and we kept telling ourselves that this was what we came for. In the afternoon Barbara and I went into town to St Paul’s Cathedral for a vespers service but when we arrived it was full so we went over the road for what else… mulled wine and cake. We had to meet the others for the Christmas carol concert at the Albert hall. They were having drinks at a pub called The Queens Arms. It was packed but we primed up with champagne and more mulled wine. Then we made our way to the Albert hall for the experience of a lifetime. Picture this!

The Royal Albert Hall - Christmas Eve

 At the top of a broad flight of steps, looming out of the darkness, the beehive shape of the Royal Albert Hall...red brick and glowing with light. We went inside and up to our box...eight of us...Barbara and I, Fritha and Anthony, the two Fionas and Fritha's workmates, Alistair and Shauna. Alistair is a big concert fan and this was his Christmas gift to us all; a private box at the Albert Hall.

Carols by Candlelight at the Albert Hall

We sat and drank champagne and ate sandwiches while the other boxes filled and all the seats below us too. The whole hall was festooned with Christmas decorations. It was as if we were inside a giant red and gold Christmas cracker.
On the dais a choir in red robes stood waiting and then the orchestra filed in wearing eighteenth century costumes and powdered wigs...all very festive. And then the carols commenced.

The programme was a wonderful amalgam of classical Christmas music and songs. There was a performance from a soprano in a glamorous green period gown, and then works by Bach and Mozart interspersed with carols which we all stood and sang, led by our bewigged conductor. After a short interval and more champagne, the programme resumed and there was a reading of excerpts from Dickens' “ A Christmas Carol.”


Fritha, Barbara and me

We sang again...God Bless You Merry Gentlemen, Hark the Herald Angels Sing; and all the rest.
When it was over we took a taxi home and there was more champagne and bed at last. It had been a night we will never forget, and Christmas was still to come!
And come it did! Christmas Day, and after the previous evening's revels everyone slept in until around 9 o clock.

From our window we could see it was not going to be a white Christmas, rather a wet one with leaden skies and chill winds. Breakfast was simply toast and coffee and then we had to vacate the kitchen while Anthony set about preparing the feast.

The late Lawrence

Anthony - our master chef

As mentioned, he had bought a huge goose which he christened Lawrence and he now set about massaging him with butter and stuffing him with onions and oranges. Once Lawrence was in the oven there were all sorts of goodies to eat while he cooked.

Alistair and Shauna

Present opening time

By now Alistair and Shauna arrived bearing bags of truffles for everyone and a big bowl of egg nog. The latter was made with cream and brandy and whisky and egg yolks and spices. There were mince pies of course, and smoked salmon with cream cheese served on warm blinis. There were "pigs in blankets" too, little sausages wrapped in crispy bacon.

Now the egg nog and the wine was flowing, and it was time to open the presents. We all got something including the cats, Molly and Milly although they seemed to prefer their own Christmas in our bedroom.
Then the eight of us squeezed around the table for the first course of a sumptuous Christmas dinner. Crackers were pulled, paper hats donned and silly jokes read out. Then came an entree of lobster and the biggest prawns I've ever seen. Apparently they came from Madagascar. I enjoyed three of them smothered in a creamy sauce, and felt I had had enough for the day.

Christmas Dinner

A Madagascar Prawn

We left the table for a while for more egg nog and the Queen's speech. Well it’s traditional!

There was some light hearted Mickey taking during this part, given that seven out of eight of us were Australian. Meanwhile Anthony repaired to the kitchen to look after Lawrence and to prepare the vegetables. Lawrence had been roasting and was now being allowed to rest for an hour or so while the potatoes, sweet potatoes, red cabbage, parsnips and pumpkin and stuffing were being cooked. The vegetables were roasted in goose fat making them crisp and golden. There were even Brussels sprouts which are also an English tradition although nobody likes them much. Anthony had cooked them with bacon which improved them a bit. He had also boiled down Lawrence’s giblets along with some port and spices and herbs to make gravy.  


Please can I have some more?

By now it was nearly four o clock and we all crowded back to the table to pour more wine while the now sliced up goose was brought in with all the trimmings. What a feast; with everyone passing around the goose, the roast vegetables and sprouts, the stuffing and the delicious gravy, all the while making jokes,  proposing the health of our hosts and generally making merry.

By now we were all feeling pretty well sated and we never did get to the traditional Christmas pudding. We settled instead for a delicious chocolate mousse which the two Fionas had made. We watched the East Enders Christmas special on TV and other rubbish. Out in the kitchen there was a huge pile of rubbish including the now skeletal remains of Lawrence waiting to go out.  And so to sleep...”God bless us every one.”

Boxing Day....Not surprisingly we slept late, breakfasted lightly then did loads of dishwashing. Barb had to walk into Beckenham to get more dishwashing powder.
I booked train tickets to go to Scotland and made calls to an old friend from ABC days. We would meet for lunch in January.
We spent a lazy day overall, just reading and watching movies on TV. Pizzas for dinner, then we packed for Liverpool went to bed.
We had never been to Liverpool before so that is why we boarded a train next morning, for a four hour journey to the home of the Beatles.

The Liver Building

It was raining when we left London. It was still raining when we arrived in Liverpool. We decided to get lunch straight away, courtesy of The Cornish Pastie stall at Liverpool’s Lime St Station and then found a taxi to the Devonshire House Hotel about ten minutes from the centre of town. This was a big rambling old place which had started life, first as a convent, and then a women's university.  It looked as if it had seen better days and our room was dreadfully overheated. But what can you expect for sixty quid for two nights including breakfast.

Once settled in we decided we would spend what was left of the afternoon taking a ride on the famous ferry across the Mersey. By the time we reached the docks the sun was low in the sky and lights were coming on. And so we boarded the Royal Iris of the Mersey for the ten minute trip across the river...and they didn't even play the song.

Liver Bird

Me and  the Liverpool Ferry

Nevertheless we disembarked at Birkenhead on the other side and found a nearby pub. We watched the city light up over a couple of drinks, with some of the most famous building standing out black against the skyline, among them of course, the Liver building guarded by its wingspread Liver birds which give the building its name.

Crossing the Mersey back to Liverpool

Alongside that was the Cunard building and the customs house, reminding us that this city was built on shipping and trade, and time was when all the great liners docked here.

Warehouses converted to trendy venues



Once back on the Liverpool side we walked around the docks area looking for somewhere to have dinner. We had asked a woman at an information desk for a good place and she said quote.."for me pairsonally I'd try the poompouse". That's what it sounded like to us anyway. We eventually learned that all women in Liverpool sound like Cilla Black, and the men sound like John Lennon. It’s called scouse.
We found the Pump House and enjoyed a pleasant dinner before taking a cab to our hotel. Our room was still overheated but we managed to get some sleep by leaving the windows as open as far as we dared.
In the morning after breakfasting on eggs and bacon and toast we ventured out into another chilly morning still gloomy thanks to a canopy of grey cloud.
We walked along the road towards one of the city's landmarks, the cathedral of Christ the king known to scousers as Paddy's Wigwam because of its conical shape.

"Paddy's Wig Wam" - Liverpool

Sanctuary - Catholic Cathedral

Built in the sixties his impressive modern structure can hold a congregation of three thousand with pews arranged around a central altar. Above the altar there was a huge suspended framework of wood and above that a stained glass atrium. This was a stunning piece of architecture by any standard.
Outside again we decided to join one of those "hop on hop off" buses and continue around the city. This took us to another cathedral, the largest Anglican cathedral in Britain.

Anglican Cathedral - Liverpool

This building stood high on a rocky hill called St James’ Mount. Its design was much more traditional although the building is less than a century old. Inside, the nave seemed to stretch forever until and at one end, a magnificent sanctuary, glowing with lighted candles and dominated by an enormous Christmas tree.  On all sides were tall stained glass windows looking down on ornately carved choir stalls.
Outside again, we buttoned up and walked along the shining wet streets to a pub called locally, the Phil. It's short for the Philharmonic, a reference to the home of the Liverpool Philharmonic across the road.

"The Phil"

 This pub is famous for its elaborate decorated bars and small lounges. John Lennon allegedly once said "the price of fame is not being able to go to the Phil for a pint." So naturally we had to go in.

Street Art

On the way we passed an interesting piece of street sculpture....a pile of concrete suitcases and trunks bearing the names of famous Liverpudlians. There was even a guitar case with the name of Paul McCartney on it. We were told that McCartney has given quite a bit back to the city of his birth, including funding to rescue a building at his old college, where he attended before the Beatles happened.

Inside the Phil

It is now a place for training would be actors and theatre people.
Outside, the Phil was pretty flash, the main entrance being made of gold painted elaborate wrought iron, but inside was even more so.

The bars were small intimate rooms dedicated to Liszt and Bach and other great composers each with intricately moulded plaster ceilings and glowing copper wall plaques and Tiffany lamps. We took a table and admired the room while drinking hot mulled wine. Then back out into the cold!
We picked up the bus again and went down to the docks where we visited the Liverpool Maritime Museum and the Slavery Museum. Bother were interesting for very different reasons. The Maritime Museum featured the stories of the great Cunard liners, famous ship wrecks like the Titanic and the Lusitania, and a lot of stuff about the battle of the Atlantic in World War Two. We lunched in the museum dining room overlooking a marina and surrounded by photos of celebrities arriving on the great ocean liners that once sailed in and out of Liverpool.
From there we visited the Slavery Museum which featured a exhibits about the slave trade, much of which also went through Liverpool.  But it also took the story forward, recalling the race riots such as the Toxteth riots back in the eighties, and a lot of stuff about the exploitation of modern day African states by the western world. This was all very informative and made you think how much of the lives we lead right now; we lead on the backs of the black man.
By now it was getting dark again, being around half past four, so we took a taxi back to our hotel. Barbara was getting tired so she took a pre-dinner nap while I went downstairs, downloaded The Age and enjoyed a cheeky pint of Tetley's ale.
The following day was Saturday, our last day in Liverpool and it dawned grey and wet. We were packed already and went downstairs for breakfast.

Coronation Street?

Saturday Morning Shoppers

 After checking out we set off to walk into town. The rain had eased and we walked for forty minutes past streets populated with rows and rows of Coronation St style terraced houses.

Our plan was to leave our case at the Lime St Station and then just explore. The streets in the centre of town were crowded with Saturday morning shoppers mostly around a wide precinct with all the familiar department stores. Barbara bought some stuff at Marks and Spencer and then we set off to find our prime objective.

At the Cavern - Liverpool

 We followed signs down a few side streets and there it was...the Cavern Club, where the Beatles began their epic career.

Of course there were lots of people like us taking photos of each other outside this famous venue.

John and Barbara - Liverpool

 Against a nearby wall, lounging like any teenager, there was a bronze statue of a young John Lennon and the bricks bore the names of many other popular stars of the era..Cilla Black, Jerry and the Pacemakers and many more.

But it was the Cavern Club itself that we wanted to see, and so we passed through the black painted archway which led to the stairs, with lots of photos of John and Paul, George and Ringo adorning the walls, along with more contemporary performers. The original Cavern Club closed in 1973 but fifty percent of the original is incorporated into the present building and looks pretty much as it did in the Beatles’ time. We must have descended about four flights underground finally emerging into the dimly lit brick lined vaults that made up the Cavern.

The Cavern Club 2013 Version

At one side of the room there was a bar so we bought a couple of half pints and sat on stools and listened to a man with a guitar singing all the familiar Beatles songs.

We were just two of about fifty people joining in and applauding each number.


Cavern Graffiti

Many were of our age but there were plenty of younger people too. We had the other half pints and continued to enjoy the nostalgia for over an hour before retracing our steps to the street.

Over lunch we talked about going back for the rest of the afternoon, we had enjoyed our Cavern Club visit so much. But there were other places we wanted to see too. Just walking along the streets was interesting in that there are many fine buildings attesting to the wealth that has enriched this city over more than 200 years. Cotton was a major factor in the wealth of Liverpool and sadly too, the slave trade.
We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting a museum, (pretty ordinary) and the Walker Art Gallery which houses one of the largest art collections in England, outside of London.

The Walker Art Gallery

Late Afternoon - Liverpool

Then we walked back to Lime St Station, picked up our case and boarded the London train. We arrived back at Fritha and Anthony's at about nine thirty.
One down side to the day! Barbara lost her mobile phone. We think she left it on the train and there was little or no chance of her getting it back, although we would try the Lime St lost property office before claiming the loss on our travel insurance.
Sunday back in Beckenham we slept late. There was laundry to be done and preparations to be made before New Year when we were off to Paris. We only had two days in Paris then we planned to go to Vienna, stopping overnight in Zurich en route.

Barbara went to the gym with Fritha. I went for a walk around the dreary streets, and then spent the rest of the day reading and watching TV.
Monday was New Year’s Eve. Barbara went off to the gym again while I tried phoning the various lost property offices in the vain hope of locating her missing mobile. No luck!
In the afternoon we set off for a drive with Fritha and Anthony. Our destination was the ancient city of Rochester in Kent. The trip in steady drizzling rain, took about an hour and we parked at the rear of Rochester cathedral before setting off in search of a late lunch.
We found it in a nice pub called Ye Arrow. We enjoyed hot mulled wine (which was becoming a habit), chicken curry, fish and chips etc.

Rochester Cathedral

After lunch we explored the ancient Gothic cathedral which dated back to Norman times. The list of deans and priors dated from the later eight hundreds, beginning with Anglo Saxon names, then Norman and right up to modern times.

Choir Stalls - Rochester Cathedral

The original building was founded in 604AD and the present cathedral dates from 1080AD and is England’s second oldest cathedral after Canterbury.
By now it was dusk and the street lights were coming on. Behind the cathedral we could see the imposing battlements of Rochester castle.

Rochester Castle

It was too late to go inside however so we wandered along the streets looking at many old buildings on the way. Rochester has quite a few literary associations. Dickens' The Mystery of Edwin Drood was set in Rochester under another name, and we walked under an old gate called Chertsey gate with a wooden house built over it.  In Edwin Drood the house is occupied by one of the characters. Dickens also used Rochester as a thinly disguised location in his Pickwick Papers, and it rates a mention in Great Expectations. I wish we had had more time to explore Rochester but we had to leave.It was dark and wet by the time we got home.

Chertsey Gate - Rochester

It being New Year’s Eve we decided to stay in and enjoy a few drinks together. We ordered in pizza and opened champagne while watching some absolutely atrocious TV full of offensively vulgar jokes and a lot of equally vulgar slapstick.

British television can be very good, but some of it is extremely bad. By about a quarter to ten Barbara and I packed for our trip to the continent in the morning. We wished Fritha and Anthony a happy new year and went to bed.
We awoke in 2013, and while everyone else still slept, we slipped quietly out of the house and up to the station. We just made it to our train to London bridge and then by tube to St Pancras station, where we were to board the Eurostar for Paris. We breakfasted in a very French cafe at the station before boarding. Then we were off. The weather was sunny but cold. Three hours later we were stepping out onto the platform at the Gare du Nord.

Gare du Nord - Paris

Late Lunch - Paris

After a bit of wandering around we found our hotel and checked in. It was getting late as we had put our watches forward by an hour when we arrived. So we had a late lunch, Barbara an omelette and for me a Croque Montagnard two fried eggs on a pile of ham, cheese and potato. And all washed down with a jug of white wine.

We wandered the nearby streets and then went back to our hotel to rest and unpack. We dined at around nine at a bistro across the road and decided to go to bed early as we wanted to get up at 7.30 aiming to visit the Palace of Versailles and the Louvre on the following day.
The next day was our only full day in Paris so we headed out bright and early after a breakfast of croissants, bacon and egg, coffee and tea.

The Louvre fortunately stays open until 10pm so we headed for Versailles first. That meant traveling on the Metro which we did but went too far on the wrong line and had to retrace our steps before walking up to the palace.

Crowds at Versailles

Versailles

We stopped for coffee on the way and as we got closer to the palace gates we realized there was an enormous queue of at least a thousand visitors ahead of us. We already had tickets so we joined the appropriate line and gradually moved towards the entrance.  But to our dismay when we were within a few metres of the entrance our queue did a U-turn and snaked back towards the gate. This happened five times and it was another ninety minutes before it was our turn to enter the palace.

It was nevertheless worth the wait. We had been here before but the sheer opulence and the history of the place still left us gasping. We passed through salon after salon and all the great reception rooms.

Versailles

The walls were adorned with great paintings of historical events and the French aristocracy in the days before the revolution. The ceilings too were painted with allegorical scenes featuring God and the angels and the French kings and queens.

Ceiling art at Versailles

The highlight of course was one of the most famous rooms in the world, the Hall of Mirrors. Begun in 1678 at the direction of Louis the Fourteenth, this room runs through the centre of the palace for almost the entire length of the building.

The Hall of Mirrors

Its main feature, the mirrors which reflect the light from the myriad windows, were originally from Venice. There are three hundred and fifty-seven of them, and their light is augmented with row after row of crystal chandeliers.
                                                                           

By now it was mid-afternoon and lunch was calling. We found Angela's, a very chic little restaurant inside the palace itself. Here we enjoyed a beautiful lunch.

 I had a smoked salmon salad with artichokes avocado and a variety of greens and smothered with a lemon vinaigrette.
Barbara's salad was similar but with foie gras. All of this was complimented with a glass of  dry white pouilly fume and a fruit salad dessert.  

After that we did what any aspiring aristocrat would do after lunch. We took a stroll in the gardens. Of course it being winter there were no flowers but a vista of neatly trimmed box hedge stretching for acres in intricate patterns.

Gardens at Versailles

There were miniature lakes with fountains and statuary, all laid out to provide an elegant view from the windows of the palace itself.
We walked back to the station, this time the right one and caught the train to Musee D'Orsay twelve stops away.

Versailles Vista

From there we walked along the Seine and crossed over to the Tuileries Garden. It was now dark but the gardens were thronging with people out walking despite the chilly conditions.  In the distance we could see the famous I M Pei glass pyramid so we knew we were nearly at the Louvre.

Entrance to the Louvre

Thankfully we had bought tickets earlier so we didn't have to queue this time.
Inside was a busy beehive of activity with people going to and fro, up and down escalators to the various galleries. But first things first!

We needed coffee and we bought baguettes to have for tea later. The museum was open until ten so we still had plenty of time.

We were surprised to learn that we could take photos as long as we did not use flash.

Louvre visitors

More Louvre Visitors

So we wandered through the long galleries with huge paintings by French and Italian masters, Renoir, Giotto, Delacroix, Titian, Canaletto and so many more.

Winged Victory of Samothrace

Winged Victory

One work which stood out for me was the famous sculpture, The Winged Victory of Samothrace. This magnificent and ancient work, now armless and headless, but with wings spread in triumph, stood on a jagged stone plinth at the top of a flight of marble stairs, completely dominating the space.

The Mona Lisa

And then of course there was La Gioconda, the Mona Lisa, framed on a wall of its own and smiling, as they say, enigmatically, as people aimed their cameras, iPhones and iPads at her.
Barbara wanted particularly to see the Dutch masters but it took forever to find them despite directions from the map and the various attendants. We finally did discover a gallery of paintings by Dutch artists, some of whom we had not heard. There were some Dutch landscapes but both of us are partial to the pictures of domestic day to day life at which so many Dutch artists excel.
By now it was around 9pm and we decided to head back to our hotel. This meant a lot of confused searching for the right Metro platform and tempers were getting a bit frayed by the time we finally arrived at Gare du Nord and our hotel.  Then we settled down, made tea and coffee and consumed our baguettes. We packed as much as possible for our departure in the morning, had a shower and went to bed, utterly exhausted.
In the morning we breakfasted and checked out of our hotel. We made our way to the Gare du Nord and wandered about in search of tickets. A railway staff lady spotted us and showed us how to buy the right tickets and directed us to where we could get the train to Gare de Lyon which was where we would join the high speed train to Zurich, four hours away.

The journey to Zurich was pretty uneventful. Our train was one of the high speed TGV ones which took us from Paris to Dijon, Dijon to Mulhouse and then across the border into Switzerland to Basel and finally Zurich. The landscape outside began flat and wintery and we passed through lots of French towns and villages, each with its church steeple dominating.

En Route to Zurich

Swiss National Museum

At some stages on the journey we were traveling at over 300 kph but it was like riding on air. We had brought lunch with us and enjoyed salad and a sandwich as the scenery flashed by.
At last our train pulled into the station at Zurich and we disembarked and went in search of the hotel Walhalla. It was about three minutes away. Once checked in we discovered that we had left Barbara's iPad cable back in Paris so we decided to go into town in search of a new one. We were advised to visit the Apple shop.

Early evening - Zurich

We stopped a young man and his girlfriend and asked for directions. He did better than that. He said they were going that way and invited us to go along with them. This also gave him a chance to practise his English.

We walked back through the railway station and into the main shopping area where we easily found the right shop and bought a new cable. It was getting dark now and people were hurrying home from work, jostling to board the busy trams along the way.

Freezing in Zurich

Workers heading home

It was also getting very chilly so Barbara bought a scarf like muffler called a snood, and a pair of fur lined mittens. As we walked back towards our hotel we spotted a very elegant little bar which beckoned to us to come in.

We did and found it quite reminiscent of the Windsor Hotel back home. The place was all black and white marble with little tables all around and twinkling chandeliers overhead. The waiter recommended a local pInot noir which was most acceptable.

Enjoying a drop of Swiss pinot

This was accompanied by pretzels and little dishes of hot vegetable rolls. After five glasses of that Pinot we decided we liked Zurich.
It was now dinner time and we found a restaurant near our hotel where they served a delicious pork fillet stuffed with cheese, the inevitable French fries, and of course, a couple more glasses of Pinot. We slept well that night and arose early to catch the train to Vienna. This time we found the right platform with plenty of time to spare.
Our train set off on time and sped along beside a very big and misty stretch of water which turned out to be Lake Zurich, and after a while we could make out the snowy peaks of the distant mountains. Then we skirted an even bigger lake, Walensee.
We passed lots of open fields, mostly lying fallow at this time of the year. Then we began to climb, leaving the valley and the fields behind. Outside we could see more and more trees gliding by, and then at last; snow. For the next couple of hours we found ourselves travelling through a living Christmas card.

From the train to Vienna

On either side we could see fields blanketed in pure white with black zig zag pencil lines of railed fences etched across them. And then we climbed on through forests of snow covered fir trees giving way from time to time, to small towns with houses and shops. And all of this was set against the imposing backdrop of sheer rock faces and thrusting alpine peaks.

From the train to Vienna

Then as we began to descend into Austria, our train stopped at the famous ski resort of Innsbruck. We had seen the best of the snow as the train descended further until at about half past four we finally pulled into Vienna. A taxi took us to the hotel Carlton Opera, a rather old fashioned hotel hidden away in a side street not far from the Vienna State Opera House. We unpacked and went in search of dinner. We found it a couple hundred meters up the road in the form of a Serbo Austrian establishment which looked inviting. Inside we were shown to a table. A string trio consisting of a violin, cello and piano was playing and soon the wine was flowing.  To add to the atmosphere, the trio began to play the Harry Lime theme from the film, The Third Man. I suddenly wished the whole scene would turn black and white and that Orson Welles would walk in. The violinist also took requests and being in the mood for old movie themes, we got him to play As Time Goes By. How corny is that?
Our first full day in this beautiful city might well be titled “Lost in Vienna!”
It was cold and wet and we walked and walked to the opera, or at least that was our objective. At least we were able to see and admire the beautiful buildings that are all over the city. We eventually found a tram which did a tourist circuit around the inner city but we still couldn't follow the tram system.

Mozard Memorial

Horse drawn cabs

Regardless of our confusion however we did manage to appreciate the beautiful old buildings, the horse drawn carriages in the streets, and those lovely little coffee places everywhere. As the day wore on we spent much time trying to get back to our hotel by asking people along the way. We asked students at a university café. We asked an assistant in a shop and finally found our way the few blocks to our hotel. We had tickets to a theatre called the Volksoper so wisely we decided to take a taxi.
An hour or so later we were off again, this time by cab. Thank God we did as the theatre was right around the other side of Vienna and we would never have found our way there. I had bought the tickets to this show and to the opera tomorrow on line, and I was a little anxious about whether they would be waiting for us. My fears were allayed when I walked up to the reservation and the man handed me an envelope with our two tickets inside.

The Volksoper is noted for its productions both of opera and operettas as well as contemporary musicals. Tonight we would see a production of My Fair Lady. We found our seats and for the next couple of hours we enjoyed an excellent show with great performances of all the familiar songs....except that they were all in German. It was a novel experience to say the least, but the whole story is so familiar we could follow everything and join in the applause at each number. Perhaps the highlight of the show was the Ascot scene when Eliza urges a horse on by shouting "Move yer bloomin' arse". I don't know how that translated into German but it brought the house down. We thoroughly enjoyed it all.

Afterwards we crossed the road to a convenient restaurant and enjoyed a late dinner with a glass of wine. Then the restaurant manager called us a cab and we headed home.
Sunday saw us determined to work out how to use the trams and find our way around. We had bought a seventy-two hour  "Wien Karte" which meant we could use all public transport without fussing about buying individual tickets. After carefully reading the tram schedules we boarded a tram headed into the area of the Opera House. Once started there was no stopping us. The Wien Karte worked well for us.

The day was bleak and wet and as soon as we got off the tram we found one of those typically Viennese cafes with all the newspapers on racks for the use of customers. It was bitterly cold in the street and it was lovely to come into a warm room, take off our overcoats and order hot coffees and apple strudel.



Coffee, strudel and the Ipad

It was the twelfth day of Christmas and so we were visited by a group of children dressed as the three wise kings, who sang a traditional song and then collected money for charity.
We spent half an hour in the warmth before setting out to find St Stephen's Cathedral.

We found it in a square after strolling down a broad avenue flanked by lots of very fashionable shops. Being a Sunday there were many devout Austrians mixed in with tourists and we joined them for High Mass. Even though the service was in German, it was easy enough to follow.

St Stephen's Cathedral

After High Mass

 As I said, this was the period of the Christmas season commemorating the arrival of the three wise kings at the stable in Bethlehem. So here too there was a little ceremony involving local kids dressed as the wise men and bearing gold, incense and myrrh.
We took a lot of photos after the service, of the elaborately decorated interior of this building. Then we set off down another fashionable street of boutiques until we came to the Jewish Museum. This was a modern building with exhibits about the history of Vienna's Jewish community over the centuries. The museum occupies two buildings and we would visit the second building on Monday. But for now it was time for lunch and we enjoyed something of a Jewish meal of delicious lentil soup followed by smoked salmon bagels.
Then we took the tram home to get ready for another evening out. This was to be the highlight of our Vienna visit.

I should mention that we had changed our location slightly. Our hotel was being closed for renovation so they moved us into one of their apartments around the corner. This turned out to be a huge two bedroom flat with high ceilings and big French windows looking out over the street.
Breakfast was supplied and the place cost us nothing extra.
So we showered and changed for a fantastic theatrical experience. Full of confidence we took the tram into the Vienna State Opera where we were to see a performance of Die Fledermaus. Our tickets were waiting at the box office, we cloaked our coats and with a little time to spare, we enjoyed a glass of sparkling Sekt with a plate of little savouries of smoked salmon, shrimp and camembert.

Some bubbles before the opera

Our seats were at the front row of the top balcony which gave us a very good view of both the orchestra and the players. Around us were tier upon tier of red velvet and gilt.
Each seat had a built in tiny screen which provided us with an English translation of the dialogue.

The audience - Vienna State Opera

And then it began. First the overture and our first taste of the familiar waltz tunes of Johann Strauss II!
The opera was in three acts which we were able to follow quite easily. The songs were delightful and the music was wonderful, even though the plot which was all about philandering husbands and wives and housemaids, and confusion over identities, was really quite ridiculous.

At the Vienna State Opera

 However it all served as a vehicle for waltzes and a toe tapping polka and much humour involving champagne and everyone getting tipsy. The whole thing was simply unforgettable and we both enjoyed it immensely.
When it was over we descended the magnificent marble staircase and out into the night.

The main staircase - Vienna State Opera

There was yet another inviting restaurant (Italian) where we dined on pasta and risotto and red wine. Then we confidently boarded the tram home and went to bed. Tomorrow would be our last day in wonderful Wien.
The next morning was cold but at least it wasn't raining. In fact there were even a few flurries of snow but nothing that stayed on the ground.
After a breakfast of toast, bread rolls and jam coffee and tea, we decided to get a tram out to the fairground to see the famous Ferris wheel.

Where "Harry" met "Holly"

The Third Man Ferris Wheel

This huge old fashioned wheel is no London Eye. It is notable not so much for its age (rebuilt in 1945), but because of its role in the movie The Third Man. It's where Harry Lime (Orson Welles) met Holly Martin (Joseph Cotton) the main character and overlooking the war damaged city.
Well they may have got tickets to ride the wheel. Unfortunately we didn't, because it was closed for repairs. We had missed out by one day.
So we went back into town via the underground railway aiming for the second Jewish museum memorial and for somewhere where Barbara could buy a bigger handbag. This latter we bought in a department store and served by a half Austrian-half Irish girl with a brogue that you could cut with a knife.


St Peter's - Vienna

Then we visited the beautiful old church of St Peter's with glorious altars of gilt and statuary.It's the second biggest church in Vienna and a church has stood on this spot for over a thousand years.

Sanctuary in St Peter's

Side altar - St Peter's

We continued on towards the Jewish memorial but first stopped at a hotel restaurant for a late lunch.
Again it was great to walk in out of the cold, hang up our coats and sit down. We both enjoyed a plate of hot Viennese goulash, with a glass of red wine.
Outside again, we walked on towards Juden Platz, an open cobblestoned space with a great stone cube in the centre. This was once the main Jewish community area, not a ghetto because no-one was forced to live there.

Where the Jewish Community once lived

Jewish Memorial Museum

We found the museum entrance which was actually built beneath the stone cube and consisted of wide windowless spaces with exhibits outlining the history of the Jews of Vienna. What particularly struck me was the positive nature of this museum. Of course it acknowledged the holocaust but the emphasis was very much on the present day Jewish community and its part in the life of this city.
That museum was our last visit as it was getting late and we had to think about packing for the morning. On the way as we walked along the fashionable shopping precinct we stopped for one last indulgence. Coffee and black forest cherry cake.

Scrumptious Vienna

That evening we dined at a local restaurant where we chatted with an English speaking waitress and it turned out she'd lived in Port Douglas when we were there ten years ago. She persuaded us to share an enormous platter of pork, schnitzel and chicken and a bottle of good Austrian red. Too much but when in Vienna....!
When we awoke in the morning and looked out from our apartment window it was snowing. It was just enough to dust the rooftops of parked cars down in the streets and the trees also, but that was all. We breakfasted and finished our packing. Our taxi arrived on time and we checked in at the airport. It was snowing harder now and they had to de-ice our plane before take-off. Still we would be back in London by mid-afternoon. Despite those first navigational hiccups, our all too few days in Vienna were simply unforgettable.
We gave ourselves a break on the following day, getting some washing done and a few other chores. Barbara decided it was her turn to cook dinner for everyone and Fritha's cleaning lady Mabel said we should do our shopping at Lewisham Market, which was a few miles away.

Now Lewisham is a fairly working class neighborhood and we had to work out how to get over there by bus. This we did but then got off too soon and had to walk into Lewisham itself. As it turned out the area was really not as rough as we had been led to believe. The high street was really wide and there were well looked after houses, a very big hospital and several old churches along the way. Eventually we found the market, made up of a long row of stalls selling fruit and vegetables, fish and chickens, suitcases, scarves, hats and lots more. Most of the vegetables and fruit were measured out in metal bowls with the each trader calling out his or her wares..."a pound a bowl..pound a bowl" as we walked by. We bought potatoes and mushrooms and carrots and the rest of what we needed, before struggling back to the bus stop and Beckenham and then home.
Barbara made a beautiful shepherd’s pie and a raspberry dessert. We washed it down with a couple of glasses of wine, and finally to bed.
It was Thursday and we were planning a visit to Scotland on the weekend. After breakfast I rang our friend Ros in Scotland to finalize our arrangements. Then we set off to visit the famous Kew Gardens.

One of the hothouses

This may seem a strange thing to do in winter but we wanted to see some of the exotic collections in the enormous glass houses that are a feature of these gardens. We took the train into Victoria station and then the underground on the Richmond line to Kew Gardens station. After enjoying morning coffee in a pleasant little cake and bread shop we walked past rows of Victorian two storey houses to Victoria Gate, the main entrance to the gardens.

The gardens take up nearly four hundred acres with reputedly specimens of every kind of tree and plant known to man. Of course most of them were just stark bare branches but beautiful nonetheless. And in the glasshouses there were hundreds of more temperate and tropical plants. One of the hothouses is the biggest glass structure in the world.

Ornamental Pool - Kew

We wandered down long pathways flanked with holly and ancient oaks and other trees. One of them, a sweet chestnut tree was the oldest in the gardens, possibly planted in the late seventeenth century.

Very old sweet chestnut tree

The Pagoda

There was also a pagoda, a ten storey Chinese style octagonal building built in 1762.It stood fifty metres high at the end of a long avenue of cedars.



And close by we found a beautiful Japanese garden dominated by a replica of a Japanese gateway which was built in 1910.

Japanese garden - Kew Gardens

By now it was approaching four o clock and it was time to head back to the station. By the time we got to Beckenham it was dark and after five.
We were pretty footsore but not so much that we couldn't go out for dinner that evening with Fritha and Anthony, in a pleasant Italian restaurant in Beckenham. We finished a delicious meal including scallops and steak and red wine.

Friday dawned cold and uninviting. Anthony was working from home because the trains were running late. We had planned to visit Battle Abbey on the coast but an online check indicated it was closed. So we decided to go into London to see the National Portrait Gallery. Also Barbara wanted to buy a decent winter jacket before we went to Scotland on the following day. We pulled into Charing Cross station and she headed off to Oxford Street and I filled in an hour or so at the National Gallery, across the road from Trafalgar Square.
The gallery reputedly holds one of the greatest collections of Western European paintings in the world. And what is more,entry is free. There was room after room containing the works of the great painters from the thirteenth to the twentieth century. I couldn’t possible view them all, so I just wandered and enjoyed each picture that I encountered. I especially liked the works of Constable and Gainsborough, beautiful rustic scenes of coast and countryside.
Barbara and I met up again as the streets were lighting up and the air was becoming really chilly, so it was time for coffee in the Portrait Gallery Cafe before visiting the gallery proper. The gallery was first opened in 1856 and it houses portraits of hundreds of historically important and famous British people.
We began with portraits of the Plantagenets, the Tudors and the prominent members of their courts. It was helpful that each portrait was identified not only with the name of the subject but also the part they played in British history. We followed the fortunes of the Elizabethans, the Stuarts, the Royalists and Roundheads. There were portraits of the great men and women of politics, of science and literature from every era of British history, through Victorian times right up to the present day.
By six o clock our artistic appetites were sated. It was time to satisfy the baser instincts and find somewhere for dinner. We didn’t have to look far.

Across the road was the 18th century church of St Martin in the Fields which offered a warm and friendly restaurant downstairs in the crypt. Barbara enjoyed hot soup and a fruit crumble and I chose good old fish and chips with mushy peas.

Before we descended into the Crypt we had noticed a sign about a concert by a string ensemble called London Concertante and it would start at seven thirty. When we emerged from below we bought tickets.

We found our seats in the nave of St Martin in the Fields and for the next two hours we were transported back to the time of Mozart and Handel and Bach. It was a delightful way to end the day.
We took the train from Charing cross again and by the time we reached Beckenham there was frost on the grass along the way and the windscreens of parked cars were iced up. Ahead we saw a bushy tailed fox loping along, checking out rubbish bins for supper. It was good to reach home and a nice warm bed. Tomorrow we would set out for Scotland to visit our good friends Ros and John Aitchison. The forecast was for snow.
Saturday, and we breakfasted early, stepped out into an icy morning, and headed for the station. Then off at London Bridge, a tube to Kings Cross and our train north. We had time to pick up lunch before boarding the ten thirty Edinburgh train for Berwick on Tweed. Outside, the sun was shining and the landscape looked deceptively warm as we steamed along through Peterborough and York and northwards to the Scottish border. Then Durham and Newcastle and finally Berwick on Tweed.
Our hosts John and Ros were waiting for us and soon we were whizzing along towards their farm at Coldstream just across the Scottish border.

John and Ros and me

 We had expected snow but in fact the day had been sunny almost all the way north and now as the sun dipped towards the horizon the countryside looked bare and cold. It was lovely to spend the next couple of hours sitting in front of a roaring fire, sipping single malt or brandy and catching up with our friends. Ros prepared a delicious meal of roast lamb which we devoured along with red wine and followed by a dessert of fruit crumble and cream.
Then there was more talk in front of the fire in the company of "Cat” the cat, and Jess, a very cute little puppy who was recuperating from a nasty run-in with the back wheels of a car.
We turned in at around ten thirty after a nightcap of a fifty proof single malt whisky. So we slept very well indeed.
We got up rather late on Sunday morning. Zero point two degrees was the temperature outside but still no snow. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and discovered another dog, a big Labrador called Tas had joined our company. He belonged to John and Ros' son Graham who lived in the big family house down the road. And then there was Kel, a very old golden retriever owned by Steven, one of the farm workers.

Jess

Tas

Kel

And finally there was Lucy, a spaniel who also belonged to Steven. Quite a menagerie and they all seemed to get along famously, even Cat.
John and Ros decided to take us to visit their daughter Judy and husband Richard who lived in in the foothills about forty minutes’ drive away.
We put Tas and Jess into the back of the farm ute, and the four of us in the front. As we drove along through open countryside following the course of the River Tweed, snow at last began to fall. It was just a few flurries at first but as we climbed higher, it became heavier, and the fields and bare trees were blanketed. The dark green foliage of the fir tree forests were frosted white and those trees that had no leaves looked like white lace.
Judy and Richard's home was a five bedroom Victorian house nestling below a hill and set at the end of a long tree lined drive. Another picture postcard setting!

Judy and Richard's House

Judy and Richard welcomed us warmly as we wiped our boots and shed our coats. They were expecting their first child and they were still decorating their home. We spent some time helping to hang some new curtains, as well as inspecting Richard's recently acquired heating system, a wood burning furnace with an enormous hot water tank about four meters high. This massive structure devoured five bags of wood a day, but was still much cheaper than oil over a year.
With snow now coming down more heavily outside, we all enjoyed a lunch of beef stroganoff, vegetables and roast potatoes, and a fruit pie dessert.
We drove home again feeling a bit drowsy after that lunch, and spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting in front of the fire. Scrambled eggs for tea and then bed!
On the Monday the forecast was for snow and there was some but not enough to stay on the ground. Ros said it looked like we would be spending the day indoors in front of the fire. I settled down with a book with the two dogs and cat lying at my feet, then occasionally going from person to person to be stroked.
Then the day brightened up and we decided to go out for lunch. John got out the car and we drove along wet and slushy roads to Flors Castle, an estate belonging to the Duke of Roxburgh.

Breakfast time

We had been there before, but this time we were not exploring local history, rather local cuisine. The castle had a garden centre attached to it, with a nice little restaurant.

This time it was our turn to play host and we took Ros and John to lunch there. We enjoyed a choice of hearty soups, French onion or vegetable, smoked salmon roulade, baked fish, venison and beetroot casserole, and kedgeree. We shared a bottle of Chilean sauvignon blanc.
After lunch we wandered around the garden centre and discussed horticultural matters with the manager. Then we headed home and Ros and Barbara took the dogs for walk while I settled back with my book in front of the fire. And so the afternoon passed very pleasantly in the very agreeable company of our wonderful hosts plus two dogs and a cat.
Before dinner John declared the bar open and produced brandy, dry ginger and of course, tumblers of single malt.
Given our hearty lunch, we were happy with steak and salad for dinner, with a glass of rose.
We talked until ten, then watched the late news before going to bed
In the morning, with great reluctance we had to pack for the journey south. When we awoke and pulled back the curtains we were greeted by a beautiful vista of softest white.

Early morning after it snowed

It had snowed overnight and as far as the eye could see, the landscape lay under a mantle of snow. It was as if someone had laid out fresh white linen over everything.
After breakfast I had the camera working overtime, snapping winter shots of the house, the farm, the horses in the nearby fields, the birds feeding outside and of course ourselves, all rugged up against the bracing air.

The big family house

John and Ros' House

All too soon it was time to say goodbye to our friends.  Then John drove us to the station and we boarded our train for London. All along the way we stared out of the windows at the sunlit snowy scenery whizzing past as we headed south.
We rolled into Euston station at about four thirty and of course it was already dark. Then there followed a struggle with the peak hour rush on the underground and a somewhat crowded train to Beckenham. Before getting a taxi back to Fritha's we enjoyed a meal and a bottle of wine at a Thai restaurant nearby. Hot spicy food really hit the spot.
Wednesday and another freezing cold day! We planned to spend it in London. The morning news was full of the details of a helicopter crash in Vauxhall near the Thames Embankment. It had hit a crane on the top of a building under construction and crashed down on the busy road below. Two people died and eleven others were injured. It could have been much worse. Impressively the emergency services were in the scene within four minutes.

We didn't get into town until mid-morning. We were to meet an old work colleague of mine from ABC and BBC days for lunch and we wanted to do some shopping in the meantime. We had to get presents for our grandchildren, so we went to the famous Hamley's toy shop in Regent street. This is a four story toy emporium selling everything imaginable for kids.
Our shopping took nearly an hour but we got what we wanted, then made our way back towards Oxford Circus, detouring along Carnaby street where we dropped into a warm and inviting coffee place for morning tea.

Then we took a tube to Covent Garden where we were to meet my old work friend. I thought I had the arrangements right, to meet my friend Miriam at the ticket office in Covent Garden. I got it all wrong. It was the ticket office at Charing Cross station.

When I finally contacted Miriam on her mobile she told us to meet her outside the Waldorf hotel. Ten minutes later we finally connected. It had been forty years since we last met so there was much hugging all round.

Barbara Miriam and Me

Then we followed Miriam to a restaurant called Joe Allen. The entrance was hardly noticeable from the street but inside the place was bustling. This restaurant was located in the heart of London's theatre district and had been frequented by generations of actors and theatre people as an after show hangout. The walls were covered with photos and posters of show people and shows.
As I said, Miriam and I had not seen each other for forty years, so lunch extended over two hours as we talked about old times and what we had been doing in all that time. Miriam had been especially kind to us when were here in the seventies but we had lost touch over the years. That afternoon was an absolute delight with so many memories revived. When we came out into the street it was almost dark. Barbara and I had tickets to see the film "Les Miserables" at the Barbican theatre and Miriam took the bus with us and made sure we found our way there. As it happened our route was on the way to her place. So we thanked her and said goodbye with promises to keep in touch. After all none of us could bank on another forty years’ wait. It had been a lovely afternoon.
The Barbican turned out to be a somewhat brutalist architectural complex on the Thames embankment with stage as well as cinema theatre. We collected our tickets (a Christmas gift from one of Fritha's friends) and for the next two and a half hours or so, enjoyed the film.
We reached home again at about ten thirty. Fritha and Anthony were still up as was one of the Fionas. We chatted for a while, then I went and shaved and showered. We had to be up early in the morning to catch a train to Southampton. More old friends with whom to catch up!
Thursday morning dawned even colder with everything white with frost and the temperature minus two. We had packed the night before and we decided to have breakfast at Waterloo station. Well rugged up, we stepped out into the street leading to New Beckenham station. Our breath turned immediately to steam and the frost crackled under foot as we joined the hurrying throng on their morning trek to work. Our train wasn't too crowded and we reached Waterloo with plenty of time to enjoy hot porridge with raisins and honey, eggs Florentine for Barbara, and hot coffee.
Our train for Southampton pulled out right on time and an hour and a half later we were exchanging hugs and handshakes with our old friends Roy and Carol Betteridge. We first met them in 2008 when we were here and had stayed with them a couple of times since. It was great to see them again so lunch at a local pub was inevitable.

This time it was a low ceilinged dark and cosy establishment called “The Old House at Home”. Roy ordered drinks and while the girls enjoyed white wine, he and I settled in behind pints of a very dark local beer. There was lots of banter and lots of laughs for the next couple of hours before we drove home to the Betteridge house.
Waiting patiently there was Daisy, the spaniel we had met before, and she was as friendly and jumpy as ever. A little while later the light outside began to fade so we donned our heavy coats once more and stepped out into the cold to take Daisy for a walk.
Then back for pre-dinner drinks. Carol had cooked beef wellingtons with potato and vegetables and Roy produced another bottle of red wine. So the evening passed with more memories and laughs until it was time to say goodnight.
We awoke after a good night's sleep and drew back the curtains in our room.

Snow overnight

What we saw was a street and trees and parked cars all inches deep in snow. As we watched more snow poured down covering everything in pristine powdery white. We continued to watch while we enjoyed breakfast with Roy and Carol. The plan was to visit a few indoor places so we rugged and drove carefully into Southampton.

Carol and Barbara

On either side the woods and gardens were white and sparkling. The rooftops looked as if they had been topped with icing sugar. On the other hand the roads were brown and slushy and not very pretty at all. Our first destination was a historic Tudor house Roy wanted us to see. Unfortunately it was closed, due to "inclement weather". Our next stop was a museum of old aircraft but it too was closed because of the weather. Our third objective was another exhibition, this time about ships such as the Titanic. Closed!
There was nothing for it but to find a pub for lunch. We found one next to a park where kids were building snowmen, and in one case some teenage boys had built a snow woman.

Boys will be boys

You can imagine how much detail they had added.

Our table was next to an open fire and a window looking out on the snowy garden. We enjoyed a light lunch as we were going out for dinner in the evening. After lunch we returned to the house and played Trivial Pursuit until the day faded and it was time to think about going out again.

Early evening - Southampton

Daisy Betteridge



Dinner at Bertie's

A twenty minute drive through the snow brought us to Bertie's, a charming restaurant where we enjoyed a very pleasant dinner including quails eggs, shrimps, smoked salmon, and venison.
It was ten thirty when we got back which left us time for some more wine and to finish off the trivia game. We had just finished the game when Barbara suddenly turned very pale and headed for the loo.

Whatever it was, kept her up for the next few hours with a bucket. She did eventually get some sleep but wasn't able to contemplate breakfast in the morning. At least she was feeling a bit better so we decided to take an earlier than planned train back to London.

Roy drove us to the station and sadly we said goodbye after a wonderful couple of days, illness excepted.

An hour and a half later we were back in London then on to a train for Beckenham where Fritha and Anthony were waiting in their car.

The snow was still thick on the ground and we were just grateful to be inside a warm house once more. Barbara went to bed,I made her a cup of camomile tea and she slept. There wasn't much else to do but watch TV until dinner time.

Barbara was feeling better although she wasn't ready to share in the beautiful roast dinner Anthony had prepared. She did however manage some toast and vegemite. She was on the mend.
The next day was Sunday and we slept in until after ten. Barbara was much better and we started to think about preparing for our flight home on Wednesday. Our main concern was whether our flight would go ahead, given the reports we were hearing about delays at Heathrow. We had enjoyed our winter experience in England but we now decided that enough was enough. That was until Anthony took Barbara and Fritha and I up to the Beckenham golf course for a walk.

Anthony, Barbara and Fritha

Tobogganing at Beckenham Place Golf Course

Of course nobody was playing golf but the fairways had been transformed into snowy wonderlands. Children on bobsleds and toboggans were everywhere, screaming with delight as they raced helter-skelter down the shimmering slopes. The four of us, rugged up in coats and hats and scarves, trudged across the snow and up a tree dotted hill until we came to what looked like a large country house.

It looked like a house but...

 It was in fact a pub called the Fox Grove and inside things were swinging. We stamped the snow off our boots, hung up coats and hats and settled down with drinks in hand. And there was entertainment too. There was a family band called the Sticklebacks and they were not your ordinary band. They played piano, drums, two types of saxophone, the spoons, a musical saw and believe it or not, a Theremin (google it).
As well as that, they did Monty Python sketches and silly songs. They were, in short, hilarious.

it was really a pub. The Fox Grove

Before we left we bought raffle tickets for an autistic charity and Barbara won an MP3.

Much warmer inside.

We still hadn’t had lunch and it was now nearly three o clock, so we drove to another pub, the Dolphin, where we had a meal of roast beef and Yorkshire puddings before driving home through the snow. We wondered if it would ever stop snowing before we had to fly home in three days’ time. Every rooftop wore a snowy cap, the branches of the trees bending under their icy loads and the brick walls glowing red against the whiteness.
It was quite simply, beautiful.
At some time during that night it stopped snowing. We slept in, but Fritha and Anthony had to get up for work. They got no further than the station, turned round and came back home again. The trains were so far behind schedule because of the weather, it just wasn't worth waiting. So thanks to the wonders of technology they simply set up office in the dining room and worked all day from there.

This meant we had to keep a low level presence so we put on our coats, gloves and hats and set off for the High Street. We walked on the road a good deal of the time as big sections of the footpath were now coated in compacted snow and ice. We took our time over lunch in a local cafe then did some shopping before getting a bus home. We had pretty well packed most of our stuff and spent the next couple of hours reading before getting dressed for dinner. This was to be our last meal with Fritha and Anthony and it was part of their Christmas gift to us of dinner and a show. The show was to be the ballet, Onegin at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. That would be tomorrow night, our last night in London before leaving for home. We had booked a hotel room in town for the night as we had to be at Heathrow at seven on Wednesday morning and our hotel was only a stone's throw from Paddington Station.
Setting off for the dinner part of our Christmas present was a little more complicated than we had planned. Fritha had booked a table at the Rivington in Greenwich but when Anthony started the car we struck trouble. Only one of the doors on the BMW would close properly. The locks had frozen open. We spent a quarter of an hour opening and closing them, squirting WD40 into them and poking them with a screwdriver. Nothing seemed to work so we decided to call a cab. No sooner had we done so than one door closed properly followed by the remaining two. So we cancelled the cab and drove to Greenwich.
Our restaurant was a smart modern place serving good food, which included cauliflower and Stilton cheese soup, a dish called red Devon chicken followed by apple and rhubarb pie and cream. As usual we ate too much but this was something of a special meal with Fritha and Anthony and we enjoyed it to the full. Having shared two bottles of Pinot Grigio over the meal, we had to be extra careful crunching over the ice to where we car was parked. Fortunately the doors had not refrozen and the drive home was uneventful.
And now it was our last day before we must fly home. Where did those five wonderful weeks go so quickly?
Fritha and Anthony had gone back to work so after breakfast we set about packing our cases and trying to ensure that we could fit everything into our luggage. In need of exercise, we walked into Beckenham for lunch, a tricky business because there was still a lot of ice on the footpaths. We found a cafe that did salads and enjoyed a light meal before heading back to Fritha's. We had already said goodbye to the two Fionas so all that remained was to farewell the two cats, Milly and Molly and set off for the station, each of us dragging a suitcase and a smaller bag along the icy path. Then we caught the train to Charing Cross and tube to Paddington.

Goodbye 155 Copers Cope Road

As I said, we had booked a hotel room a few blocks from the station so we would be able to take the train to Heathrow early next morning. Our hotel room was tiny and we could barely move in it. But we managed to shower and change for the evening. This was to be our final treat; the Royal Ballet at the opera house in Covent Garden. The ballet was Onegin, based on the novel, Eugene Onegin  by Pushkin.
After nearly getting lost we met up with Fritha and Anthony in the foyer of the opera house. It was the beginning of a wonderful evening.

The opera house itself has seen several renovations since its inception in 1660 as the Theatre Royal. It now incorporates a lofty iron and glass structure known as the Paul Hamlyn Hall. Historically, this formed part of the old Covent Garden flower market, and is still commonly known as the 'floral hall', but it was absorbed into the Royal Opera House complex during redevelopment in the nineties. The hall now acts as the atrium and main public area of the opera house, with a champagne bar, and restaurant.

The Atrium - Covent Garden Opera House

Having cloaked our coats, (it was still freezing outside.) we found a table and enjoyed plates of smoke salmon sandwiches and a bottle of chilled white wine. Then it was time to find our seats. Fritha led us along what seemed like a labyrinth of passages and finally we emerged in one of the balconies which skirted the main body of the theatre. Our seats were right in the centre and we just gasped at the splendour of the place. There were four tiers of boxes and balconies all the way around, like the layers of a cake, all glowing with red velvet and gilt and lit by rows of little red shaded lamps.
Right on time the orchestra struck up the overture and the curtain rose on a sunlit garden in nineteenth century Russia. I won't attempt to explain the story. Suffice to say the dancing was sublime.
There were two intervals and in the first one we shared a bottle of champagne. The whole evening was simply magical. At the end of the final scene the audience applauded over and over as the dancers took their bows.



Barbara and me at the Opera

Then we all retrieved our coats and filed out into the chilly streets of Covent Garden. I expected to see Eliza Doolittle selling violets but she was nowhere to be found.

There was however a very inviting pub across the road and we enjoyed the warmth and a couple of hot mulled wines.
And then it was time to say goodbye to Fritha and Anthony before going back to our hotel. They had given us such a memorable few weeks and we would never forget that wonderful Christmas dinner, the carols at the Albert hall, the ferry across the Mersey, the Cavern Club, Versailles, the Vienna opera, Handel at St Martin in the Fields, the Lewisham market, visiting our friends in Scotland and Southampton, lunch with Miriam at Joe Allen’s, children tobogganing on the Beckenham golf course, and so much more.
When we reluctantly found a taxi we kept the driver waiting while hugs and kisses and even a few tears were exchanged.   

                             It was very hard to let go.