BrontoBlog

Mental thoughts

2012-01-31T08:27:00.001Z

Sadly, yesterday I went to a memorial service for a friend and, as usual, these occasions always serve to put other things into perspective. The music, prayers and words were just great. My condolences to his widow.

The older one gets, the more frequently one hears of a death by a terminal disease such as cancer. Phrases such as "after a very long struggle with cancer..." become all too frequent, following a period of people rallying around to support the loved ones and the patient. And so it should be.

In fact the e-mail I received from this persons partner was " after a very long struggle with depression and anxiety...". I was struck by the phrase "long struggle", not often used in this context. And it set me thinking that as a society, we do not see mental illness in the same light as the killer physical diseases, yet their impact and potential for inflicting misery is just as great.

There have been times when I have not been "right side up" - indeed we probably all experience such episodes. Fortunately - with one exception - it was just normal life and I came right without help. The only time I should have asked for help, as I left my teenage years, I felt unable to do so. Somehow it felt an admission of failure, an admission I was flawed. Instead I suffered months of anguish, pain and distress when I could have had some help. I asked for none as I felt I would not get support from my parental family, that by so doing I would be devalued even more in their eyes and labelled. Labelled as inadequate and worse. I did not want the stigma from them or the medical establishment.

At todays ceremony, the elephant in the room was the illness that killed my friend - depression. Would it have been the same, I wonder, if it was cancer? ( I am not offering any criticism of the service by the way). Today their must be many people who feel unable to ask for help, who struggle on without any comforting words. And I think society needs to adjust its attitude to mental illness, to get over the fear that one day we may not all be of sound mind, and reach out with more compassion to the mentally ill and depressed.That way those in need would feel more able to ask for it, both from the medical establishment, friends, family nd their work.

All of this does not take away the tradegy of my friends death. And for the pain of the loved ones left behind.

To them all, I extend my prayers.

Our local pond

2012-01-29T11:49:00.001Z

Iced up this morning, full of gulls plus the resident swans

Stonking here on the beach!

2012-01-28T11:23:00.001Z

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A real tonic, cold but clear and sunny

Lego man in space: one (very) small step - video

2012-01-27T12:55:00.001Z

via guardian.co.uk

Have to say this is just so cool!

Hotel Light Switches turn me off

2012-01-26T08:06:00.001Z

Of late, I have noticed a trend in hotel light switches in that they are getting increasingly complicated. "What!", I hear you cry, "surely a light switch turns a light on and off?"

Well I have to agree with you on that and it is certainly my starting point. Increasingly though, I find myself wandering around hotel rooms, trying to get either some light or dark. Sometimes the switch for a table lamp will be on the floor, by the door or behind a desk. Not easy to find.

Then take the current room I am in. The picture shoes one of two light switches, or more accurate "light control panel". This is quite dark which some smart designer thought would look good against a dark wood wall. And they would be right. But try finding it in the dark.

From BrontoView 2012

And then when I do find it, it is not one switch but four. No symbol or word is offered to tell me how to turn on a particular light: actually, how can one room have so many lights? So as I stumble towards the bathroom, I end up stabbing all the buttons, until the light comes on in the bathroom. By this time, the whole room is lit up, so it is a good job I am not trying to disturb a sleeping partner.

Really, it is all too complicated. I do not consider myself stupid, but feel something is wrong if I am looking for the light switch instruction manual. Hotels need to stop trying to be clever and think about how their guests use their rooms.

And don't get me started that when all the lights are on, they are all too dim to see what you are doing ....

Colourful car parking

2012-01-23T12:02:00.001Z

via creativereview.co.uk

If, like me, a trip a multi storey car park consists of a drive into the depths of some bare concreted, architectural monstrosity, which is gloomily lit and place to hurry from, then take a look at this.

I spotted it on an RSS feed I consume and shows what some imagination and good design can do to make our spaces brighter and nicer places to be. Hats off to the owner for being brave and the designer for their imagination.

Double-decker bus gets send-off for London

2012-01-21T13:13:00.001Z

via news.ucdavis.edu

Amazing this veteran is still on the go

Hmm. Orange and Me. Mr Grumpy writes ...

2012-01-21T12:50:00.001Z

Over the years I have done various deals woth my children and their pocket money, in order to do a bit of "Daddy facilitation" for something that would be of use to them. For my youngest, this involved contributing to a mobile phone: Orange being the chosen partner.

As they turn 18, these various arangements are turned over to each of the Young People and so as Hannah turned 18, she decided that she could not afford the monthly contract. So I ring Orange a few weeks before the "out of contract" date to cancel in advance. "oh no sir", says the operator, you have to ring up on the date itself or there is termination charges. Odd, I thought.

So I call up on the contract anniversary and they try and persuade me to stay. I point out my daughter is a student and cannot pay the bill, and you have never seen a commercial organisation back down so fast. But the first irritation creeps in and they insist on a months notice. This is fair enough but am puzzled why they cannot have taken notice a few weeks earlier. Never mind, paperwork arrives that the cancellation is scheduled and everything is fine.

Until they take another months rental. Never mind, I thought, I'll get a refund. Two weeks later, I get a refund of one week. Hmm, I am thinking, feel sure I am being done here.

Now I suspect if I took a second mortgage to dial the premium rate number, spent far too much of my life being told that my call is important and please hold, whilst pressing 2, 5,1 and then 6 - followd by 7, 3 and 9, I may talk to a human being. Who will blind me with science that I should be jolly grateful I have something.

I contrast this with my dealings with Virgin Mobile in the past. Ring them, they are always courteous and business like. Cancelling an account was handled effieciently. In short I felt I was being dealt with fairly. With Orange, I feel am being done - I may not be, but a nasty taste is left in the mouth. In todays harsh business climate, great service is just essential. My wife and I were discussing Amazon earlier and they are a great example of good service. When you contact them when something is wrong, there default position is "we need to fix this" rather than "you Mr Customer are gulity - send for the police!".

Interestingly my daughter has a new contract with Virgin Mobile, who were flexible enough to convert her pay-as-you-go SIM into a contract. All done within minutes and with a smile in the voice. When I need a new mobile contract, Orange will be my last choice. In the meantime, I am applying ice packs to my head and taking the valium, girding my loins to ring Orange. Grrrr.

A bird flew in to the glass door and left this imprint of its wing. Must have hurt!

2011-11-05T21:59:00.001Z

A bird flew in to the glass door and left this imprint of its wing. Must have hurt!, a photo by Timbobean on Flickr.

A bird flew in to the glass door and left this imprint of its wing. Must have hurt!

Steam on Coniston

2011-10-30T21:18:00.001Z

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I spent Saturday night on the shores in Coniston in the English Lake District - it was supposed to be two nights but a puncture north bound on Friday night put paid to that, with the added "bonus" of a surprise night in Birmingham.

Anyway from my brother and sister's holiday let this morning, there was the Gondola steaming away in all its glory.

As a family we went on this some years ago. And together with the fact its steam powered, I could not resist posting these pics. But if you want to ride it, you will have to wait until the Spring as today was its last day of operation before a winter lay up.

Another link with my distant past moves out of ear shot - Radio 4's long wave goodbye

2011-10-10T13:41:00.000+01:00

"Radio 4's long wave goodbye" in The Guardian

As a teenager, I would smuggle my pocket sized medium wave radio under the bed covers to listen to Radio Luxembourg and then (when my music taste was awoken) to Radio Caroline. The fuzzy signal came and went, with whistles and other strange bleeps around the edges of the sound. Tuning around you could hear voices from aboard: Germany, France, Russia and so on. I never did (and its an internet myth that no-one else have has) discover where the mysterious tune was broadcast from that repeated endlessly every five seconds or so: the suspicion is it is a Cold War era Russian transmitter that even today has been forgotten to be turned off. Indeed once - in my adult years - I thought I heard a freak transmission from the US.

Travelling abroad, medium wave gives a window on the sounds of that part of the world, simply because the signal goes further. As you drive on the continent heading for the channel ports, the sound of Radio 4 on long wave crackles and fizzes through the speakers, giving your ears a signpost that Blighty is just over the horizon. In the depths of the Lake District and the inaccessible rugged coastline of Western Scotland, a long wave signal is the only connection - albeit one that fades in and out - with events in the wider world.

So now the long wave transmitter's days are numbered, awaiting for a valve to break that will turn the mighty transmitter silent. And yet in today's digital age, where remote homesteads in the Lakes and Scottish West Coast all sport satellite aerials, technology has moved us on into the digital age, an age where valves have no place. That is right: to stand still and to always look back is not healthy.

But I for one may just tune into 198 LW (or 1500 metres in old money) occasionally to check up on the health of the old girl.

Grandpa and his iPad

2011-10-08T19:39:00.001+01:00

It's been a pleasure this weekend to host my father in law. He is partially sighted and was finding a pc screen difficult to read. So he bought an iPad today and have been helping him find his way round.

What has been so delightful is the way he has got to grips with it and seeing his absolute pleasure at being able to read an e-mail. It is so heart warming to see how technology helps. It is just fantastic to see his delight as he finds new ways of communicating with friends and family.

Summer's end in sight

2011-09-11T15:55:00.001+01:00

Spotted today in the garden is the first of the leaf fall in the garden. Mother Nature is gearing herself up for Autumn (or The Fall as our American cousins call it).

Up here in Scotland, the weather has been (in the whole) anything but summery. There have been some warm days but none of those long, golden days in which the garden or the beach call.

Back in the frozen, snowy wastes at the beginning of the year. I consoled myself that a hard winter would be followed by a golden summer - no such luck! It is so important somehow (well for me it is) to know that my frozen bones will be thawed good and proper. Luckily, two weeks on a Greek beach did that, but not in the local places I know and love so well.

As I write, the remmenant of a hurricane is venting what is left of its wind power. Autumn seems ever so closer. It would be lovely to think that the September twilight will be bathed in golden sunlight - sadly, I think that it might also be delusional.

9/11 anniversary: 'Suddenly there was mayhem. One of the towers was on fire' | World news | The Guardian

2011-09-10T10:17:00.001+01:00

9/11 anniversary: 'Suddenly there was mayhem. One of the towers was on fire' | World news | The Guardian

My parents generation rembered where they were when JFK was shot. Both of our generations remember where we were when the planes hit the World Trade Centre.

It is still hard to comprehend 10 years later, the horror of what had happened, the callous disregard that a few humans had for their fellow man. The office I was working in at the time stopped, refreshing BBC news as the tragedy unfolded, all of us dumb founded by the enormity of what we were seeing. Was this a Hollywood film or real life?

My children at the time were quite young and later that day, looked to us as parents to explain what was happening, to make sense of it all. It was one of of only a few moments as a parent where I could not give a good answer, where I struggled to put it into context and distance it from their lives. I remember my youngest being quite frightened - would it happen here, would she be caught up in something similar?

Ten years later, I am still not sure what my answer would be. Something horrible and bad happened that day, causing death and destruction on a massive scale. Flowing from that day seems to have come more death and destruction, both from governments and terrorists. No amount of killing can be justified in my view, especially not in the name of a loving God. And yet I understand people get angry and show it in the only way they feel they can.

I hope no special "anniversary event" happens this weekend, but then I think that every day. We see in the news explosions, shootings and then turn to films, TV, games where we watch similar events played out for our amusement: that seems bizarre to me. Humanity has always been thus, showing its brutal violent side.

But I also know that there are many people - of all faiths and none - that show compassion for their fellow man, working tirelessly for peace and to reduce suffering. Amidst all the painful remembrances of that dreadful day 10 years ago, alongside my prayers for the dead, the mourners and the people who perpetrated this deed, I also remember these peaceful people, people who I applaud and salute.

Northumberland memories

2011-09-03T08:01:00.001+01:00

I am currently on a train, speeding south through Northumberland. If you have never been there then I recommend it. The coast is stunning, the beaches streching as far as the eye can see, with golden, beautiful sand. It has castles that loom over villages that hark back to feudal times. Inland, the Cheviot hills mark the barrier between England and Scotland, atop which the views strech seemingly for ever.
When the children were younger we had many happy family holidays here. Seeing familar places from the train brought it all back - three blond heads digging or swimming. My favourite picture from this time is sitting on a ledge outside of a holiday cottage, just a stones throw from the beach. On my lap, my son, then just two, both of us tanned. It's the end of a sun kissed fortnight and, together we survey the setting, golden, sun. We seem close - something that has always seemed to be the case with all of them. An idyllic and treasured memory.
All of that was years ago. The blonde heads have darkened, the children turned into adults. But the beaches are still here and they call still. It's a special place.

Syria unrest

2011-08-04T11:41:00.000+01:00

BBC News - Syria unrest: UN condemns government crackdown

It is inconceivable to me that a supposedly civilised state would take to the streets and fire on its own citizens. And yet, the "Arab Spring" has seen so many instances of this: Egypt a little bit, Libya a lot and now Syria joining the "Gadaffi Kill Your Citizens" movement.

John Simpson on the BBC last night felt that the Arab Spring was teetering out, that the protests were meeting more government resistance. Depressingly, it looks like he may be right. Judging from the size of those tanks on the Syrian streets, Assad does not look he is moving aside any time soon. Watching his snipers on the rooftops on TV, I found myself wondering what those soldiers felt like: how could they live with themselves killing the very citizens the armed forces are supposed to protect?

And now Mubarak is in court: as Simpson said last night, there will be some other Arab leaders looking nervously at those proceedings to see how things might pan out for them. Absolute power must be a truly an intoxicating aphrodisiac, one that blocks the sights, sounds and pain of your citizens being crushed on the streets. I wish all these abusive leaders a very short term in office and a long time in court for any crimes against humanity they may have committed.

In short, I hope the guilty share the Mubarak experience soon.Very soon

Well done England: tremendous result in the cricket!

2011-08-02T07:56:00.001+01:00

Over the years, I have followed the exploits of the England cricket team ever more closer. When we moved in to this house over two years ago, it was the Ashes on the radio that was the soundtrack to the unpacking.

For those of you who may not know, international five day matches - yes 5 days - are called "tests" and the matches between England and Austrailia are "The Ashes". Back in 18 something or other, Austrailia beat England and presented the ashes of the stumps - the peice of wood across the top of the wicket - to England, remarking that they represented the death of English cricket. We have been trying to prove them wrong ever since.

Last year my father-in-law and I went to see a one day match, when England played Pakistan. A great day despite the wet start. We made a weekend of it, staying in a hotel and going for curry and a beer. This year, with India in town, we are repeating this and next year, I already have tickets for a match against Austrailia. Really our cricketing opponents do not get bigger than these.

Anyway, the test matches are on satellite TV, something I have never seen the value of. For any cricket fan, the BBC "Test Match Special" on radio is required listening. All day a small number of men (sorry, it is men, no women work there yet but it will come) talk occasionally about the cricket but also of other things: cakes been sent in, buses passing the gronud and so on. And it is on all day. Its rambling nature is a joy to hear and when things get excting, then boy do they communicate that well.

And the match that finished yesteday against India, fits in to that exciting category. I will spare you the numbers, but India forced England into a bad position on the first day: much wailing and gnashing of teeth amongst the English fans. On day 2, England came out and were on fire: the Indian team withered in the face of the English. On day 3, England turned the heat up even more so that by day 4, India offered a token resistance and lost the game.

Working yesterday (day 4) was very difficult: really I wanted to listen to Test Match Special but instead I had to console myself with checking the BBC Sport website regularly. It was fascinating and exciting to see runs scored and wickets falling (men out to you). The end came whilst I was on a conference call but the excitement was so palbale, you could cut it with a knife.

So, one contented and excited England fan here is looking forward to the next test against India. And when my Father-In-Law and I watch the two teams at the start of September, the tension and rivaralry between the two teams should give us a great spectacle to watch. Can't wait!

Marni Motoring Madness - how I failed the Top Gear audition

2011-07-20T14:22:00.001+01:00

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There is a mountain filled peninsula that lies to the south east of Kalamata. On this and previous trips here, the mountains loom high over the coastline, vast volcanic peaks reaching for the sky. We have often wanted to see them close up.

So we eschewed the normal British flask and picnic rug and set off. We drove down the main road that twisted, climbed and dived to keep in sight of the sea. It went quite high in places, affording spectacular views over the Messinian Gulf.

On our way back, we decided to take a "BrontoTour", getting off the beaten track to see the mountains close up: we had no idea how successful we would be.

On British maps, main roads are green or red, country lanes yellow and smaller lanes white. We interpreted our Greek map in the same way. So we took this "yellow" road that climbed and twisted into the mountains. We came across a delightful village, clinging to the hillside. Then we found our "white" lane.

When I was a teenager, the authorities built a new by pass, with the road surface made of concrete in neat, flat rectangles. This lane started off in concrete that was lumpy, rough and nothing like that bypass. Then, as we began to climb, the road turned into a dirt track, that would be impassable in the wet. It was single track, with a cliff face on one side and an unbarriered precipitous drop on the other.

By now the Panda was struggling but carrying on. The gradient became steeper, the hairpin bends hairier. The views were spectacular.

We were now very high and the top was in sight. But our little Panda had had enough and we stopped. Stopped in the middle of two bends, unable to go further, on a steep single track mud path, with no room to turn back.

The Top Gear team would somehow have carried on. Instead I had to very gingerly reverse downhill. The brakes were not super effective due to the road surface. As you might imagine, I was very mindful of the drop and went very carefully.

Anyway we eventually reached the comfort zine of a hairpin bend and stopped to both admire the view and my nerves. The accompanying photos were taken at this place; the creamy line is the road we had just driven up and needed to go back down.

The view down was Fab as well. So though feeling thwarted, we were delighted to sample the interior. And, in the end, we got well off the beaten track.

Greek banking from the dark ages

2011-07-15T15:44:00.001+01:00

Today we cashed some travellers cheques here in Greece. What should have been a routine transaction, turned out to take me back 30 years to how banking used to be in the UK.

Two cashiers were servicing a patient (and growing) queue of customers. Occasionally a beep would ring out, coupled with the Greek equivalent of "cashier number 1 please", but without a "please". As we were ninth in line, it gave me ample opportunity to survey our surroundings whilst we waited.

One quarter of a large room was condoned off for the tellers, whilst the remainder was given over to a selection of desks, arranged without order. Each desk was piled high with papers, but with space left for a computer terminal, over which some operators smoked. People shuffled paper without obvious reason. A man I presumed to be the manager, seemed to be moaning conspiratorally to those customers he knew, his voice hushed so that his colleagues could not hear.

Over at the tellers counter, one cashier left. Where he went I do not know, but he was replaced by someone counting money, gazing at the queued customers as he did so. The remaining single cashier answered his mobile phone occasionally, so that at these times, no one was being served. Meanwhile, the queue got bigger.

The entry arrangements from the street were not simple. Two electronically locked doors formed an air lock so that no one could rush in or out. To confuse matters, it was fitted with a time delay, so that once admitted to the small chamber, it took many long seconds before the next door opened. Despite being made of glass, this was claustrophia inducing. The customers then greeted an opening door by pushing in to the tight space before those wishing to leave had done so. The effect was to recreate the world record attempt for the number off people in a phone box. Inspector Clouseau would have managed it better.

The manager reacted by doing nothing: clearly customer service was not a core objective. His colleagues behind their desks, gazed laconically at the queue whilst more paper was shuffled.

So, joy of joys, we got to the front of the queue. In all of this time, the cashier had been unsmiling, neither greeting or acknowledging any of his customers, a courtesy he extended to us. Clearly his day would be better if no-one troubled him.

We were, we gathered by the gesticulating cashier, at the wrong place and sent to one of the desk jockeys. She looked at the cheques as if they were a proffered laxative, said something to her colleague behind us and started looking through many folders. We seemed not to be there. Her colleague took the proffered phone number and spoke English to American Express - but not to us. In the meantime more desk jockeys stepped around us silently: clearly we were just more annoying customers.

The call was finished and the lady walked off with our cheques, with us in hot pursuit. A conversation ensued with the "friendly" cashier and we were invited to take another queue ticket: only 10 people and 40 minutes in front of us. We were able to persuade her we should queue jump.

Now we faced Mr Grumpy Bank Employee 1973 again (an honour he has maintained religiously every year since), who took our cheques once more. Paperwork was done - lots of it. Computer keying was done - lots of that too. He disappeared into the safe room, returning to hand a vast tray of cash to a colleague over the partition. Bundles of €500 notes were passed back, which confused Mr Grumpy as he did not know where to put it all: I felt it would not help our cause to make any suggestions.

And then! A bundle of notes was pushed through the counter window to us: but not counted out. So we checked the cash, smiled at Mr Grumpy and left. Neither he or anyone else spoke or acknowledged us. It was banking from the dark ages, a historical treat we were charged €15 to witness.

So the morale of this tale is, do not bring travellers cheques to Greece and avoid the banks here.

Mystras

2011-07-15T08:35:00.001+01:00

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Sometimes I visit somewhere which leaves me if not cold, then certainly not moved. Yesterday was a happy exception.

We visited the ancient city of Mystras, a city founded in Byzantine times but abandoned 160 years ago. Atop the hill is a ruined castle with a Vista that is too breathtaking to describe over the surrounding plains.

Beneath it, on the hillside, lay the abandoned streets and buildings. This being Greece, you are free to roam and touch at will - unlike the UK, there are no cocophany of signs telling you what you cannot do or warning me that if I so much as breathe out, then no responsibility is taken for my action.

Thus I walked on the grass, I touched many ancient objects and observed many spots I might spit -though I resisted that temptation. Despite these and other risks, I did so without harm to myself or the Ancient Greek state. Amazingly, the car park was not full of ambulance chasing lawyers waiting to help me sue the authorities should I have as much as stubbed my toe.

Anyway, rant over. The highlight was "Metropolis", a courtyard with an ancient Orthodox church forming one wall. It contained wall paintings of stunning beauty of Christ and other apostolic figures. It was Greek faith in all its iconic glory.

The whole courtyard was a cool refuge in the heat of the day. On one side was a balcony, below which the hillside fell away. Thus amazing views over the valley bottom around the city of Sparta were afforded, all set in a bowl of wooded mountains.

And the guidebook said "two hours was sufficient". The Greek hour must be longer than mine. Our afternoon there did not do it justice. It was an amazing place.

Ardnamurchan jaunt

2011-07-06T05:30:00.001+01:00

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Last Saturday I had the pleasure if spending the day with my don and his girlfriend on a jaunt over to Ardnamurchan. At a round trip of 360 miles, it is almost as fat as driving from Edinburgh to London, but the scenery and pleasure of standing on a beautiful beach are well worth it.

The light was most extraordinary and the mountains looked fantastic - Glencoe always looks different every time I go through it. The views across the sea towards all of Mull, Skye and the Outer Hebredies were stunning. Ardnamurchan Point is the most westerly point on the British mainland and it appeals to the travel romantic in me to look out over the Atlantic to America - nothing in between but vast tracts of ocean!

Anyway, the traditional food stop at The Good Food Cafe was enhanced by meeting up with my other daughter Polly and her boyfriend. A good day all round apart from the sunburn - that will teach me to fall asleep on the beach!

What a drag … Iceland considers prescription-only cigarettes | World news | The Guardian

2011-07-05T13:45:00.001+01:00

via guardian.co.uk

This sounds an excellent idea. As a non-smoker, pubs and restaurants are nicer places to be. But walking down a street can be unpleasant with all of the smokers gasping for some non-fresh air - the City of London is really bad in this respect.

I know everyone is entitled to do their own thing but governments have a duty to protect their citizens. So bring it on!

Littlest to Europe

2011-07-05T09:29:00.001+01:00

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I've just got back from dropping my youngest at the station for the London train. There she changes for Europe, as she and seven friends travel for a month around Europe, InterRailing.

I would be lying to say there was no lump in my throat - their seem to be so many rites of passage right now - but my overriding feeling is one of excitement for her. It's something I have always wanted to do - and maybe I will when I retire.

She will, I am sure, have a Fab time and look forward to hearing all about it when she gets back in a month.

Bon voyage!

Prom Princess

2011-06-30T15:17:00.001+01:00

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My youngest, Hannah, is now ready for her school prom. This marks her graduation into the adult world.

She looks stunning in her dress and I am having a proud Father moment.

It is a stonkingly beautiful morning out there

2011-06-28T06:55:00.001+01:00

Lovely to see the sun and clear sky. It's been rubbish weather of late here in Southern Scotland, not like summer at all. Which is all the more gualling when you trains are cancelled down south as it is "too hot". Grrr.

Anyway, within the confines of a working day, will make the most of it. Especially as it lasts one day.

Helicopter buzz update

2011-06-24T18:23:00.001+01:00

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Well its back and its a Royal Navy craft. There is a frigate docked at Leith a few miles away and I am guessing it is from there.

Since I last looked out the back, more tents have sprung up with a stage. Some people have built a tower for speakers or lights, which is already higher than the house. The pictures were taken from the 4th floor if that helps with scale.

In the meantime, the sound system has been on test - and it is massive. Perhaps Glastonbury is over my garden wall?

Edinburgh armed forces day preparations

2011-06-24T16:26:00.002+01:00

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Holyrood Park has a large area closed off to build an arena for the parades over the weekend. I believe the Red Arrows are due for at least one fly past, but for now being buzzed by this Army helicopter is all we have to be going on with.

I think it will be a noisy weekend.

BBC News - Mayor urged to tackle London's congested roads

2011-06-22T09:38:00.001+01:00

via bbc.co.uk

So Boris says that tacking traffic congestion is his top priority. So that will be why he cancelled the Western congestion charging zone then? Oh no, wait a minute ....

Ken Livingston put his money where his policy is and initiated many London transport improvements (Overground, sorting out the Underground, DLR extensions, congestion charging, bike rentals, etc) - Boris does not show any of the same imagination, daring or flair.

Waldo leaves

2011-06-22T07:52:00.001+01:00

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When I was a kid, headteachers were very monochrome, coming only in shade of grey aka Model T Fords. My last headteacher was nicknamed "Blinkers" as his eyelids seemed to move to some unheard beat as he spoke.

Alex Wallace (or Waldo as his students affectionately call him) leaves the high school where my children had the privilege of attending. He inherited a policy of cherishing diversity and making it his own, thereby proving that it us possible to be a colourful headteacher. His projects with schools in the South African townships are inspirational and both of my girls have been out there on school trips - great (though emotional) experiences.

I am enormously grateful for the experience he gave my three. He is retiring to spend more time out in the townships - I wish him well.

The pictures are from the annual school show "Diversity", showcasing not just the talent in the school but its ethos. Long may it be so.

Just been in a lovely mid summers eve talk on the beach

2011-06-21T20:57:00.001+01:00

Depressing weather

2011-06-21T15:38:00.001+01:00

It is raining cats and dogs out there. I an sitting working with the light on, because it is so grey and dark, and a winter jumper because it is cold.

It is midsummer's day yet it feels like Autumn. I am fed up and want some sun :(

Lovely to be walking on the beach again. It's been too long

2011-06-19T14:55:00.001+01:00

Road rage driver fined after cyclist videos assault on helmet camera

2011-06-18T08:30:00.001+01:00

via menmedia.co.uk

Glad this ended good for the cyclist. Always aware when I am on my bike that there is an uneasy tension in the air between cyclists & motorists. Sometimes the drivers do not give the cyclists room. Being on my bike, I am aware that I have no metal skin to protect me, yet the drivers do.

I guess we need more "peace and love" out there.

Self portrait in dandelions

2011-06-18T07:31:00.001+01:00

Took this a while back. Enjoyed the dandelions pixellation

Biking in Brussels is fun!

2011-06-17T17:30:00.002+01:00

I've just come back from a business trip to Brussels. It suited me this time to take the train rather than fly, and decided to make it a bit more interesting to take my bike.

Eurostar were excellent about taking my bike off me and making sure it was there at the other end - though at £30 each way it is not cheap (still cheaper than taxis mind). And at Brussels Midi, I got off the train, got on my bike and rode off.

The main challenge Is finding your way around, as the city is not over blessed with direction signs. A local bus map is most useful in this respect, as well as (ahem) free. The traffic was incredibly respectful of my bike and never once felt under threat.

It is of course a city with lots of history: and with history comes cobbled streets. They are unlike any I have ridden on before, large pits and bumps testing the flexibility of the bike frame. Not a comfortable ride!

But I was nonetheless able to see more of the city than I have been able to before: even began to like the place. And I saved ages sitting in traffic jams in the back if a taxi, as I have done too many times before.

Would I do it again? Absolutely! I felt great and enjoyed the experience. My next Target is to do a similar bike-on-Eurostar trip to Paris. Though I suspect the traffic will not be as forgiving there!

Business trips by bike

2011-05-25T22:52:00.001+01:00

As part of the governance regime I work under, I (understandably) need to get clearance from my boss for every business trip I make. He is based in Texas in the US.

On a conference call this morning, I found myself needing to go to a meeting near London for tomorrow. Air fares at such notice were horrendous. The train, bizarrely, was not. And then I thought, why not put the bike on the train? My boss remarked that this was the first time he had approved a "bike on a train" ravel request.

There is something about speeding very fast on a train, with your bike up front, that is just so enjoyable. When I arrive in London, I eschew the crowds heading for the tube and head off instead up the Euston Road on my bike. Yes there is traffic, but if you keep you wits about you, you can see a great view of London from the saddle. I remember cycling around Piccadily Circus one dark night and felt I was in a Sandy Shaw video for "Down Town": amazing.

So I have a trip planned in June to Brussels. My boss has joked "no bike?": Good thought Bowman! Now Eurostar allow bikes on their train: yes I like that idea!

Big Dave's Big society Cuts close to home

2011-05-25T22:46:00.001+01:00

My wife works for a national charity. It works with children and provides a vital service. Most of the service is provide by volunteers, ticking that "big society" box. Sadly the UK government does not see it that way and is cutting all funding over the next few years. This will lead to a cut in capacity - right now, they struggle to meet the demand. There is no voluntary body I know of to soak up the demand.

Result: children and young people will not get the support they need - support that keeps them alive in some cases - and the costs to society will increase: costs in the health service, police, courts, social services, etc. - you get the picture. Its short sighted and lacks the vision - vision missing from the UK usually.

So my wife is looking for another job (her redundancy pay is less than a months salary). She is hacked off with it. And so am I - too many needy young people will not get the help they deserve. Its bonkers.

Simon Jones on Radio 3

2011-04-25T09:23:00.000+01:00

Simon Jones is being interviewed on Radio 3 as I write. He is the actor who played Arthur Dent in the seminal "HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy (or H2G2 for short).

For those of you not yet familiar with Douglas Adams masterpiece, let me say right away that you are missing something. The story is around an earth man, Arthur (see above) who has a friend "Ford Prefect" (a popular make of car when I was a kid). Ford turns out to be an alien who saves Arthur just as the Earth is blown up to make way for an interstellar highway. They meet various characters in their adventures, including Zaphod Beeblebrox, a former galaxy president on the run, and Marvin the Paranoid android ("I've got all this pain in the diodes down my left side").

The stories are incredible, funnily inventive with the absurd running through them. They speak a lot about life in the quest to answer the the ultimate question (the meaning of lidfe, the universe and everything - 42. It has some classic comedy actors in it with sublime performances - to me Colin the security robot is the ultimate in comedy acting.

This is a series that I listen to end to end at least once a year and can highly recommend it. It is difficult not to do so and be captivated in a series of parallel universes and care about the main characters. It is funny, sad and moving in equal measure. When you reach the end and hear the announcer say "... and is affectionately dedicated to its author", you weep inside and know exactly what he means. I can recommend searching out the radio plays (on CD at a record store near you now) and enjoy a masterpiece.

Which reminds me, I think its time to start the first listen of the year. Enjoy.

London beats Paris for public transport

2011-04-20T20:08:00.002+01:00

Shock horror!

I visited Paris for the first time around 20 years ago. I was rightly impressed by the dense network of the Metro and the grand scale of the RER. And yet, being here now, it seems that once built, no further improvements were made. So Hausmann RER station is a series of huge and impressive caverns but now it looks faded, with dim lighting.

And I think is the key difference. The London Underground is brighter, not just on the stations but in the trains. All Underground trains have been refurbished and look (on the whole) good: into so in Paris.

The stations are dim and the also the train lights. What Transport for London has achieved with very little is, it seems to me, superb. Yes its not perfect, yes there are still problems; but based on the sample I have seen, London should hold its head high.

Charles de Gualle Airport is a #fail

2011-04-19T14:22:00.001+01:00

Eventually I have arrived at my gate at Paris' Charles de Gualle Airport. It has to be the worst airport experience I have had - and that includes Heathrow.

First I had to wait in a melee while an airline person sorted something with my ticket - do know what the problem was as I was the last person to be told. Then to the check in queue. This was long and everyone in front had a problem with their ticket.

There was still a problem with mine but I did get boarding pass. Next challenge, passport control. But to get there I have to show my boarding pass (1). Then there were six mammoth lines with 4 passport officers. Naturally there were problems with passports in front. And my boarding pass is checked (2).

Now security. There are different queues based on some criteria. To get in the right queue I had to show my boarding pass (3). When reaching the security machine I have to show my boarding pass (4) even though I have only walked 10 metres since it was last checked and could not have come from anywhere else.

So to the gate. I show my boarding pass (5) and passport to the airline clerk. Then there is a security person to whom I show - you guessed it - my boarding pass (6) and passport: even though I have walked less than a metre and could not have gone anywhere.

I am not at the plane yet but I will show my boarding pass again (7).

I know there has to be checks and security but this airport need to look at all of this from the passengers point of view. Having left plenty time, I have in fact only just made my flight. It makes me cross and CDG, its one big #fail.

The beach

2011-04-02T17:58:00.001+01:00

There is something about a beach that always captives me. I was again at Gullane today, this time with ny wife, son and his friend. The big surprise about living in Scotland is the beaches and this is no exception. It's soft sand, wide open bay and rolling breakers.

Just great to blow some cobwebs away. Perfect.

First time on the beach in 2011

2011-03-24T15:18:00.002Z

I woke up to blue skys today and the urge to get out there was too much. So here I am on one of my favourite beaches in East Lothian. The sun is still shining, picnic is in the bag, together with something to read. Perfect. Oh yes and the dog is here too, so I suppose that makes it almost perfect.

National Gallery of Art: enjoyed the visit

2011-03-05T19:42:00.001Z

See the full gallery on Posterous

Train news

2011-03-01T23:40:00.002Z

So the government today announced the electrification of the railway to South Wales: about time too. Never mind the previous government announced it and this lot postponed it. It's also sensible to do the suburban lines around Cardiff.

Less sensible is the choice of the replacement trains for the venerable "High Speed Trains" or Inter City 125's. These are classic trains that revolutionised travel when they were new. That was 1976. They are still in front line service today and are a pleasure to ride. But a committee of civil servants has designed an electric train that has a diesel engine in it. This is plain bonkers as it will spend a lot of energy lugging around heavy engines that will be switched off. Not very green.

Somehow the whole IEP programme (the snappy name for this train) is buried in bureaucracy. They have spent £27 million on consultancy to design this train and nothing has been ordered yet. And in the meantime the 125's get older and more unreliable. The passengers seem to be forgotten in all of this and common sense put to one side. From what I read, no-one in the railway industry wants them. It's a lot if money to spend and then to get it wrong.

Looks like winter is moving on. A lovely day out there

2011-02-26T10:51:00.001Z

Very foggy here today

2011-02-17T09:43:00.001Z

Polly on the Thames

2011-01-24T21:04:00.001Z

See and download the full gallery on posterous

Our Polly is with me in London. These pictures are from a lovely evening we had wandering along the river down to the Royal Festival Hall - a special place for Julie and me.

Rain, ice and floods

2011-01-15T13:33:00.001Z

Driving through the Highlands through the heaviest rain I have ever seen. The road is flooded in many places.

Here at Loch Lihne their are puddles of rain on top of ice. Mini ice floes drift by. The streams both in and out of the loch are raging.

Quite spectacular

Lovely winter afternoon

2011-01-09T20:47:00.001Z

It was my turn to walk the dog. Here we still have snow on the ground which has melted and then refrozen. Hence it was very slippery and treacherous underfoot. I thought I would only go for a short stroll but the clear blue sky and the white hillsides led me on.

It was a stunning day. The dog did what dogs do and I was left to my own thoughts. It was just great.

What started as a chore ended up as a real treat.

At long last the thaw is here

2010-12-10T10:35:00.002Z

At long last the thaw is under way. For the first time in a week, I can see the wheels of the car opposite

Belgian Railways - Possibly worse than British Rail ever was imagined to be

2010-09-23T19:56:00.000+01:00

There is a running joke in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy - a series I enjoy with every hearing - that the worst word in the universe is "Belgium". This, whilst funny, is a bit unkind as the country seems ok to me - or the bits I have seen - with very bike friendly cities and pleasant enough looking small towns.

The railways do not match this. I have found the trains to be in need of repainting, covered in graffiti and lacking any sort of information where you might be going. Not even a small destination shown in the front of the train. And fast is not a word in the vocabulary. The Brussels Airport express is hourly and slows regularly for track changes. The line to Oban is faster.

There us a myth in the Daily Express world that British rail stations are decrepit and falling down. In truth some of the more rural stations might be like that. In Belgium, the big stations are. Take Brussels Nord. A big station in the heart of a capital city. Yet buying a ticket takes ages as the machines do not take visa. The passageways are dull, dingy and cramped. The platforms are crumbling concrete structures, built in the sixties I guess. As you head north, you pass other stations looking positively Victorian with metal canopies that need brightening up; stations with poor lighting; stations with one name board so you will probably have no idea which station you are at as you pull in; stations with no means of telling you where the next train is going to. Think 1950's Southern Region.

In short, the British rail system compares favourably. Stations are - on the whole - better kept and pleasant to be in. If small stations on the West Highland can look presentable and in a reasonable state of repair, surely big Belgian stations could?

But it would not be fair of me to not mention - and praise - Antwerp Central, a station heavily rebuilt this century, restored to better than it's former glory. See SNCB, you can do it!

Rant over. As long as you do not mention Brussels Airport that is...

The dear old CofE

2010-09-19T12:26:00.000+01:00

This weekend we are staying with my sister in law and her family to celebrate my Father in Laws birthday. Not sure but I think he may be 21. Again.

Anyway Sally invited me to her church today where she and her daughter sing in the choir. The church building is one of those quintessentially English Anglican churches which form such a central part of the English countryside.

Living in Scotland, it's quite a while since I have sat in English church. So what was once familiar was no more. I was struck by the stones and the building which just seem to have absorbed the worship offered in that place for centuries - maybe approaching a thousand years. It felt good to be sitting there in such a beautiful building, something familiar from my time in England, once more.

Those of you with problems with women priests should look away now but the service was taken by two women priests. I have never had any problems with priests of any sex or sexuality.

Having been out of the CofE for a while it really felt the institution had moved on. With the Popes visit bringing to the fore the women priest question (plus homosexuality and contraception but this is enough for now), I realised sitting in the pew what a great institution the CofE is. It is in every corner of the land, just being there for anyone that needs it.

Yet right now it seems too inwardly focused on women priests, spending far to much energy on tearing itself apart over this question. And that seems a shame when there is a gospel to be preached and a truth affirmed. It has lost it's focus and needs to come back together in a mutual spirit of reconciliation, with Christ at it's centre. If it destroys itself, the English social fabric will not be the same. And that will be a shame.

But sitting in that lovely nottinghamshire church this morning, the clergy just got on with it. And that has always been the strength of the dear old CofE. Long may it continue.

Travellers Tales

2010-08-29T22:20:00.000+01:00

I do a lot of travelling for my job. Most weeks see my hopping on a train or a plane off to some place to do my work thing. Whilst it is a pain to be away from home, I am a bit of a fidget bottom and like to see some different places, as well as exploring new aspects of cities I have visited before.

Take last week - it was my eighth trip to Zurich. I stayed in a hotel just near to the top of the lake, by the Opera house. I have never yet been to an opera there mind, it always seems to be closed or not putting anything on, but I digress. Even though I have stayed in this hotel before, I struck out in different directions in the evening on my runs. Now I find a run whilst I am away a) helps to fight the intake of calories that restaurant food entails and b) allows me to see somewhere much quicker than walking. One night I ran up and around the botanic gardens, discovering a thriving community of shops and coffee houses. Another couple of nights saw me run around the top of the lake to a ginormous fountain, which is quite spectacular. This run goes through some park, which on this summer evening was full of friends and family's having barbecues - the smell of lighter fuel was quite strong and alarming at first.

Travelling by train can great fun, either because its going really fast (East Coast to London is good for this) or its full of life, people going to school, work or liaisons. Its great (and compulsive) to people watch, trying to work out what is going on. Some might call it just plain nosey of course.

Plane travel is fun too, the thrill of the take of or looking down through the clouds to the passing earth below never fails to hold me. But where plane travel is a pain is the enormous amount of queuing you have to do at airports and the increasing intrusiveness of security - though a necessary evil I do understand.

As an example, when changing planes at Heathrow last week, I queued up six times. three of those were close to each other, and I found myself wondering why two could not be combined. I began to see that clear division of responsibilities between organisations means that is not possible - but someone needs to look at this from the customer point of view, trying to ease their passage rather than pedantically insist on requeuing. When you arrive at flight connections, I present my boarding pass to the airline to check I am entitled to change. Then I present my passport to the Border Agency. Then I present my boarding pass again to Security who then photo me. Passport checking probably has to be separate but why can the airline not take my photo? One queue would be removed and then I would feel less impounded, less of a victim of bureaucracy.

Plane travel needs to capture some sense of theatre for the departure, help passengers to feel a little excitement as departure nears. Conversely, sitting on a long distance train and hearing the whistles go on the platform, builds a sense of anticipation that we are about to set off somewhere far away and fast.

In the meantime I guess we will continue to stand in queues after queues at airports, day dreaming or watching in horror as the person three people in front takes an interminable time to take their laptop out of their bag. Despite this, I still enjoy most of the travel - but tomorrow is a public holiday so Sunday evening is not tied up with ironing and packing: its great to have a breather and not have to do this.

Laconic Sunday and contentment

2010-08-16T09:59:00.000+01:00

Late last night I wandered down the road to post a letter. It was dark but the night air was wonderfully mild. I was in no hurry and on the way back realised just what a great day we had and how happy I am to be living where I do.

On one side was the park, dark and mysterious at night, teeming with wild life; by day teeming with people walking, lounging, enjoying. On the other side the train line, bringing much interest each day, forming a portal that frames my travelling that I enjoy so much. In front the city, at its busiest in August with the festivals, bursting with energy, hopes and dreams, all within the most stunning and architecturally beautiful cityscape I have seen. In short, this was my city and I felt good to be in it.

The day had started not promising with a sea fret (a sea mist) threatening to put a chill on the day. But after coming back from a short trip with Hannah, the sun burst through, painting the sky blue. The day quickly warmed up and I wished I had been to the beach. But no matter, I spent most of the afternoon pottering in the garden, mowing this, sweeping that and chatting to Polly and her boyfriend. Then we all sat down to enormous and delicious roast dinner. all this in the house where I live, one that loomed above me in the darkness as I returned from my post box jaunt.

We have lived here at the edge of the park now for just over a year. I still get a thrill to move around it, feel the space, sit on a balcony, potter in the garden or gaze out of the top room. After living in such a small apartment for such a long time - where we were enormously happy - it still feels a privilege to have space to accommodate the family and their friends. In fact we seem to have had several groups of young people in over the weekend and its lovely to be able to host them and yet have space just to be not on top of each other.

All this, as I stood on my moonlight door step, I reflected on and counted my lucky stars. And I gave thanks for being so happy.

Hungarian Job Closing Thoughts

2010-08-08T23:13:00.000+01:00

Many people thought we were mad to consider doing a trip such as this. When my youngest brother Jonathan announced last year he was to get married in Hungary, it was difficult to work out how we could get there. That Julie and myself was going clear - as was Hannah still being at school. But the big Two were unclear - would they be working or not. Then investigating Ryanair was an eye opener - it would have cost £1000 to get us five from Scotland to Budapest. And if someone could not go, then we loose the ticket.

Then we began to think in terms of where could we go and what would we like to see? The route began to evolve and did not really get fixed until a few weeks before we left. By now Jacob and Polly were unable to come so it would be the three of us. Which would be a good thing as we had down sized the car. That we were doing the trip in a Mini, added to peoples crazy view of the adventure.

But that is what it started to become - an adventure. Could we really drive across Europe into the East, preserve our sanity and have a good time in the process?

As I write this, we have been home 24 hours. I feel sad it is over, sad that we are not moving on to somewhere else tomorrow. Julie and I have discussed today where would we go next if we did something similar - sadly it will probably not be possible for a few years yet. As we drove over to the supermarket, Julie said "if you said lets go to Cornwall, I would be right up for it". None of us got car weary. The Mini has turned out to be a fast, comfortable choice and I have got of other cars on shorter trips and groaned at the thought of getting back in. Not with our Mini.

So I leave you with a picture of the star of the show - Hugo. The car never put a foot wrong, never failed to start, just plodded on and on. It was a pleasure to drive.

We were mad? No. Just we just enjoyed a different sort of holiday.

So that's it. Over. The Hungarian Job has finished. It was a great experience and I am sad that it is over.

The GB leg

2010-08-07T23:31:00.000+01:00

We woke not too early and packed the car. We drove the short distance to a French supermarket to buy breakfast which we eat in a park, plus some wine - the wine was not for breakfast mind. We drove the short distance to the Tunnel, drove onto a train and left mainland Europe behind.

Once we had landed in the English county of Kent, we drove around Folkestone to revisit the house that Julie was married from. Then it was a pleasant though poignant drive through the Kent countryside to where Julie's Mum is laid to rest. Living so far away means that we cannot visit this as much as we would like to pay our respects and it was good to put that right, even if it was drizzling.

But then we took to the main road again to drive up to East London to visit a relative and to see his new baby. The little boy is very demanding and sleeps little and his Mother looked exhausted. We commiserated as our first child was similar. But the baby boy was cute and it brought back many memories of my own children being so small.

One very welcome cup of tea later - my first for a fortnight - we headed north. Nothing was to stop us now as only objective was to get home. Once we had left the South East behind us, the traffic dried up. So did the weather for most of the way too, which was welcome.

And then we turned off of the A1 at Newcastle. Most people remain on that road which hugs the coast to Edinburgh. The views to see are amazing but you can get stuck for a while behind slow trucks. The route we took was more direct but hillier. It has vast stretches of desolate road where you cross the roof of England, not seeing anyone else. The scenery is just beautiful and stunning for mile after mile. The sun was low in the sky and the hills had a "layered" effect with shadows. After all the places we had been to and the scenery we had seen, this sight was still one of the most beautiful.

We crossed the border into Scotland - our last on this trip - and carried on into the darkening sky. Jedburgh - a medium sized town - is passed through as are a few small villages. Lauder seemed to be having some festival as the street was packed outside the pubs.

And then the moment came we where came to the top of one particular hill before we descended. There below us on the coastal plain was the lights of Edinburgh. Home was just 16 miles away.

After 14 days, 18 hours and ten minutes - and 3639 miles - the Hungarian Job came to an end at 2230 outside our front door.

We had done it! We had driven across Europe to Hungary and back again. And we had had the best time ever.

Last French night

2010-08-06T21:27:00.000+01:00

Our drive from Bourg was good for two reasons. Firstly we had all had a good nights sleep. Secondly the road was fast with little traffic. And the sun was shining. so that's three reasons I guess.

We headed for Bethune in Northern France. This was somewhere Julie and had visited whilst on a French exchange some years ago (politeness prevents me from saying how many years). It is a small town with a large pretty square. On one side is a hotel which we investigated but turned down the offer of a room. It seemed expensive and the sheets a little grubby. The alternatives were thin on the ground - that is something after finding the Tourist information Office, a major piece of detective work. It was as if tourists were not really welcome.

So we pushed on to St Omer, the town closest to Calais. Here we had more luck with a hotel. But the rapid progress we had made to reach the channel port area was lost in a long hotel search, which was a shame. St Omer was bigger than Bethune with a more lively feel to it. What was a problem though is that the some of the many bars around the large square were themed around Britain. We declined the opportunity to buy a pint in the "Queen Victoria" - you get the idea.

So the tourist hordes thronged this square, but we found around the corner a lovely restaurant which was sadly empty - there were only three other sets of diners. It did not open until seven and turned other potential customers from nine onwards. How it made any money beats me.

But the food was excellent and reasonable. We had a three course "plat du jour" which was just scrummy. It was a special meal to end the Hungarian Job with. We left the restaurant all mellow.

One unusual feature was this box in which the bill was delivered. We have never seen anything like this before.

But the meal came to an end and with it our holiday. As this sign said in the town, the direction was now firmly to the channel Tunnel and home. The Hungarian Job had one last day to run.

More Alpine rain

2010-08-05T22:38:00.000+01:00

We went to sleep in a very hot Milan. We were disturbed in the night but thunder and rain. And it was still raining heavily when we woke up with the alarm. I showed Hannah the Milan central station, and our route out of the city was not not simple. One way roads seemed to block where we needed to go and - unusually for - we missed the entrance onto the Aurostrada. The rain was incessant and the streets were near flooded. Visibility was not great and it made for a miserable exit from the city.

Eventually we headed northwards into the mountain and the Mont Blanc tunnel. The Italian side seemed "scraggy" somehow. Julie summed it up by saying it felt like the towns had some industry taken away from them and had not recovered - rather like the closing down of the mining industry in the 80's. The mountains themselves were big but somehow lacked drama because of the setting.

Eventually the autostrada came to an end and the road became two way. It twisted and turned through hair pin bends as it climbed to the tunnel entrance. In the winter, it must be impassable and we were lucky not to be stuck behind any lorries. It took us 15 minutes to queue to pay, which we thought was bad - on the French side the queue was 90 minutes long. It was hard to comprehend this was a major traffic artery across Europe. The tunnel itself two way, with lots of flashing sides reminding me to keep 150 metres from the vehicle in front. Half way through was a fire station. Both of these measures were a result of the tragic fire in 1999 in which 39 people died. As the tunnel was 11km long, this was sobering.

We merged back into the daylight and headed for Chamonix. The rain had regained in intensity and we headed for the closest restaurant to where the car was parked. Considering this was a tourist honey trap, the food was surprisingly reasonable and good. At one point, the clouds lifted and you could see the tops of the mountains plus a glacier moving down the mountain side - breathtaking.

We pushed on. The road became a dual carriageway again but still with tight bends, hugging the mountain side. The mountains were more stunning in France, the villages prettier. The rain stopped and we drove along the autoroutes in the grey light. Our original intention had been to drive to somewhere near Dijon but our poor night had taken its toll and we aimed for Bourg-en-Bresse, just an hour short.

It was a small town and we checked into a traditional hotel in the towns square. We wandered around the shops, which included a store that sold nothing but knives and scissors of every size - and it was busy. We also discovered a "hole in the wall" machine that would dispense pizzas. The weather was by now pleasant and it was lovely to while away a few hours. Every town seems to have good bookshops and Bourg was no exception. Beautifully arranged, interesting looking covers - but all in French so I did not buy any.

The church was lovely. We discovered on the outskirts of town a monastery which looked to be a stunning building.

And so to bed. This was to be our penultimate night in France and out of the UK.

Nerves in Milan

2010-08-04T23:29:00.000+01:00

One of the delights of this holiday is that we have been sharing it with our youngest daughter, Hannah. She has been an absolute pleasure to take around Europe with us. Less welcome was the fact that today was exam results day. These should have been published early in the morning enabling us to get on with out day. But the dear old Scottish Examinations Authority messed up and so they were published in the middle of the day. Which meant that there was a nervous wait, with much checking if e-mails.

Anyway, we pushed on into the city. Today was a shopping day, sampling the delights of the designer shops. our first port of call was supposed to be Abercrombie & Fitch, a young trendy store that is all the rage. Hannah and her sister last visited one in California a few years ago and the Milan store was a must see.

In fact we found more local stores to view nearer our hotel, en route to the metro station. I had looked up the address in yellow pages for A&F and so we set off across the city. Except that I did not have my glasses on and so we emerged blinking in the sunshine to a totally different part of the city to A&F. Off we went to the tram stop, where there were quite a few doors leading into the nicest courtyards, around which some very nice apartments were arranged.

Anyway, we got to the right part of the city, and moved towards the store. The architecture of the buildings was (on the whole) exquisite and there was much to please the eye.

The A&F store itself was in an anonymous looking building with an incredibly restrained shop frontage. As you approached the front door, glamorous young people opened the door for you as if you had been allowed in to some special club. Inside was all gloom with (admittedly good) loud music pumping out. All the shop assistants were good looking. I kind of felt they were not chosen for their intellectual qualities and that fat/ugly people need not apply. I had to admire the marketing that had created the environment. But as I observed the young teenagers scrabbling around the store anxious to by something - anything at any price it seemed to me), I felt resentful at being manipulated. I was glad to leave.

We adjourned to a stone bench nearby to consume a can of drink. We had quickly sussed that coffees in the cafes were quite expense. not having our bank manager's number on us, this seemed a more sensible option. We wandered the streets and went inside The Duomo. A police office checked our bags - not very thoroughly. At the main entrance, the army were helping with the checks. Minibuses and police cars were parked around full of police offices killing time. Whether this was normal security or something special, I could not tell.

The church itself was stunning. It was big and high. When the choir and organ go at full pelt, the acoustics must be fantastic. There are no pictures here. Notices were every where asking you not to take pictures but I seemed to be the only person respecting them.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in Via Dante, nipping in and out of shops. Julie was delighted with the toy shops whilst I bought a shirt from a shirt maker. But it was at the spot in the next photo that Hannah burst up to me with her results - which were excellent. At last the ice had thawed and we could party a little bit. It called for afternoon beer and ice cream.

We went back to the hotel to change and freshen up. We headed back to the Via Dante for a celebratory meal. Milan has many modern trams but quite a few older ones as well. These are really museum pieces but still cope every day with modern traffic. They engineering marvels to be still keeping going, complete with noisy air compressors, DC motors and treadle brakes. They were fun.

The meal was at a table outside. The pizza was big and good, the sparling wine cold, conversation light and witty. It was a lovely evening.

By the end though, we were all getting a bit silly.

But the next day was the start of the journey home, popping up in Calais for the hop back to the UK in two days time. There was a lot of ground to be covered.

Milan diversions

2010-08-04T13:33:00.000+01:00

And so we joined the Autostrada, heading west. We expected the journey to take about five hours. But it was not long before we hit a long jam and were diverted by whistle blowing police officers on to another Autostrada. There had been (apparently) a big accident and the diversion would take us in a large circle through this part of Italy.

Except this Autostrada was also closed, this time due to roadworks. Loads of traffic piled onto local toads through towns and villages, causing chaos and gridlock. We crawled for an hour or more, going nowhere fast. It was frustrating but at least we could admire the distant mountains.

Eventually we rejoined the Autostrada and started to gobble up the kilometres. We arrived in Milan much later than planned, but we got there safely. We checked in and walked into the city centre to find somewhere to eat.

Naturally we choose the route that had no eating places but eventually we sat down at a pizzeria in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, a stunning arcade with beautiful shops and restaurants. It was fun and stylish with a price to match. And then (foodies look away now) we went to McDonalds for ice cream and coffee.

Finally we wandered into the pizza in front of the Duomo, this amazingly ornate cathedral at the heart of Milan. It's flood lighting made it even more impressive. Simply breathtaking.

Blagging in Trieste

2010-08-04T07:40:00.000+01:00

Our drive from Ljubliana was great. The motorway takes you through the mountains which looked fabulous in the sun. The road was good and fast, even though it had trucks from all over Eastern Europe bound for points west.

The border with Italy is a few miles from Trieste. Immediately you are thrown into local roads which pass through villages as you wind your way down to the city. Effectively you zig and zag down a very large cliff face, affording the most amazing views of the city and the Adriatic, which just sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

Soon we were at the bottom and lost in the maze of the city streets. Cars came at us from all directions, mopeds squeezed on all sides. At first we seemed only to find the port area near the central station but we then found our to the scenic sea front.

As we started to look for a hotel, Julie pointed out the grandest looking hotel on the sea front - the "Savoy Excelsior". "It will be too expensive" she suggested but I thought it worth just going in and asking.

The receptionist was polite but gave me the distinct feeling that he did not feel I could afford to stay there or be able to pay the bill. In fact he asked for payment up front, which is most unusual. After lengthy computer interactions I said that I would take the three bedded room over looking the sea. He looked dubious until the card payment cleared and then could not stop apologising for the delay. Both Julie and Hannah were gobsmacked that I had gone for it but even happier with the room.

And what a room it was! It was two thirds the floor area of my house. Our bed was massive and Hannah had the most comfortable looking bed settee ever. There was a room to put you suitcases. The bathroom had a shower that came out if the ceiling that created a rain fall effect. The light fittings had the hotel name embossed in them.

And the view out to sea was superb. We looked out across the road to the Marina on our left, the port on our right and the "cliff face" we had driven down on our far right. Straight ahead was nothing but the sparkling Adriatic. All this could be seen from our 5th floor balcony, complete with table and chairs.

As a taste of luxury it was lovely. The price was not too outside of our budget and so - considering breakfast was included - was a good deal. It was great to see Julie and Hannah revel in it all.

After each of us had sampled the shower in turn, we we went downstairs to the bar for a drink. I could see this from reception when I was checking in it. The counter had a marble front, the seating deep and opulent, the ceiling high to take the enormous chandelier. Naturally it was a glass of Prosecco each, it being produced outside of the city. It was deliciously exquisite.

Then it was a was a walk along the prom to find ourselves a pizza or something Italian to eat. We instead found ourselves at a sea food place which was OK but nothing much to write home about.

By the time the meal was finished, H was tired and back to the hotel. Julie and I strolled around the city, sampling the atmosphere and the deliciously balmy air. Live music was being held in two places. At one venue, the stunningly beautiful buildings around the piazza changed colour with the music. Then we strolled out to a long jetty, full of young lovers and people playing cards. It was a wonderful evening.

Breakfast was equally sumptuous and delicious. After packing, we drove round to this wonderful Roman amphitheater, sitting by the side of the road with no signage or anything to announce this architectural treasure.

We left town by the following the coast road and it was here that Triestians came out to swim and play. It looked very inviting but we had to move on.

And so Trieste passes us by. It was a spur of the minute addition to our itinerary and was a privilege to visit. Next stop on The Hungarian Job was Milan.

Ljubliana interlude

2010-08-03T05:35:00.000+01:00

We left the house we had been given in Hungary with a heavy heart. The warmth of the welcome we had received and the honest hard work of the people that lived there, had touched something inside us.

But the sun was shining, Hugo was loaded and some driving into the west was needed. Hungary looked lovely as we drove through it. Gently rolling hills bursting with agriculture, punctuated with small villages in which people stopped on the street to talk.

Soon we crossed the border into Slovenia and retraced our steps down the motorway to the capital, Ljubliana. We had driven around it on our outward trip but decided to visit it today.

What a lovely city! Admittedly it was sunny - and even Watford looks better for some sun I guess - but we loved the open streets, the green spaces, the architecture. Just near where we parked the car was the sound of some jazz. We discovered a back parking lot of the opera house - closed for restoration - had tables out in the open serving beer and coffees. Choosing the latter, we sat and soaked up the sunshine dripped atmosphere.

Then we walked deeper into the city, wandering the streets and winding our way up to the castle. This looked impressive and well worth a visit, but not sadly with time in our day to do. It's quite a climb but the views are well worth it. What you see is that the city lies in a basin, surrounded by mountains that provide a dramatic frame for it. A lot of the buildings are very old but well preserved so it seems to have escaped modern architectural vandalism.

It was tempting to stay and explore the city further. Certainly it ranks highly in my list of favourite cities but I had this feeling we should push on. And so we did to Trieste.

A day of rest

2010-08-03T05:11:00.000+01:00

As you can imagine, we woke quite late on the Sunday. And when we did, it was to a clear blue sky. It was a very different Hungary to the wet country we had seen earlier and it was such a shame that the wedding just missed the good weather.

And whilst we slept, it turned out that the wedding couple and family were clearing up until 5.30 in the morning. There was no going away on honeymoon for the newly married couple. I wish we knew as we would have gladly helped.

In ignorance we had a good nights sleep though. We spent the morning just soaking up the sun and reading.

But there was another family event to come. We went down Orsolya's house where her Mum and Grandmother were clearing up. No matter that they had nearly finished but, plates and drinks were produced with no hesitation. There welcome was so touching.

Jeremy (another brother) and his sons came over. Alex was delighted to find this grasshopper in the garden. It was so tame that he was able to put it in has hand and show it to everyone.

Just the brothers and the family then set off for a meal. First we visited the local castle where the registry office ceremony was to have taken place. It's high walls afforded a great view point for the surrounding countryside, which was remarkably forested. It reminded me of the rebel base in Star Wars where there is a look out over the tree tops. The castle would have been a good venue but never mind.

Dinner was in the nearby city of Pécs. High above the city is the TV tower, a bit like London's BT tower. The viewing platform afforded terrific views of the countryside, with visibility of many miles. On the floor below is a restaurant where we eat again.

Afterwards it was back to Orsoyla's patents to say our good byes. The patents are decent, hard working folk for whom I have the most enormous respect. They welcomed us, complete strangers, into their home as if we we there own. It was sad to say goodbye.

Wedding day

2010-08-01T10:02:00.000+01:00

I have never experienced such torrential rain, nor such a humongous thunder storm. We did feel for Jon and Orsolya. And I got soaked to the skin in my cream linen suit - perhaps the not the best choice for the weather.

But that was the only dampener on the day. Hungarian weddings are steeped in ritual and tradition. So much happened that I will try to capture.

Proceedings started at the brides house. Neighbours had worked hard in preparing a buffet lunch which was just amazing. I also got to try some parlinka. This is a spirit laid down 31 years ago by Orsoyla's father (i.e. At her birth) for her wedding day. It was 50 degrees proof and blew your head away but good in a never-mind-your-liver sort of way.

In time, everyone congregated outside of the house and tradition commenced. Firstly a band appeared who would normally walk with the bride and groom around the village - sadly the weather precluded this. Then a master of ceremonies appeared who at regular intervals gave some wisdom and good wishes to the couple, as well as introducing what was next.

And so after a dose of this wisdom to the groom, Jon invited Orsolya out. Here in Hungary the couple see each other from the start of the proceedings rather than at the church. Orsolya looked simply stunning and so beautiful in her wedding dress.

Then we adjourned to the registry office. Here the civic ceremony took place underneath the Hungarian flag and with the registrar wearing a sash in the national colours. Once complete, champagne was served. It was already turning out to be an alcoholic day and we were no where near the reception yet.

We then walked up to the church. The church service included a communion. No prayer books are issued as the locals all know the words off by heart.

Then it was into a bus to travel three villages away for the reception. We met the band again who by now had grown in number and instruments. They provided all of the music for the evening and made a good sound. A lot of the songs were traditional with well known words and dances. They did play Auld Lang Syne at one point and us Scots dwellers could share our version of the words.

The food was great and plentiful. After time of dancing, four courses were served. Then more dancing. The photographer put up on a TV screen the wedding photos which got a laugh as the screen show strayed not only into someone else's wedding, but also some glamour photos. Jon and Orsolya's photos were great though.

At around 11, Orsoyla was kidnapped by her female friends and taken to a local disco. Us men were rounded up and set off in pursuit. After champagne there we returned to the reception.

At midnight Jon and Orsoyla changed into red, which represents them ceasing to be a bride and groom, turning into a married couple.

The wedding cake made it's appearance on a trolley with indoor fireworks on top. Unlike British wedding cakes, each layer was different. One had sponge and butter cream, another like black forest gateaux. And even more cakes appeared! All far too delicious.

More dancing happened. And then a gift dance took place. Each family came forward for a short traditional dance with the bride and groom, after which an envelope of cash was placed in a basket, all under the watchful eye of Orsolya's mother.

Then coins were tipped onto the floor and bride and groom had to pick these all up, whilst guests moved them all around. Jon put coins in his pocket which then all fell out when he was tipped upside down. These traditions were to symbolise that they would gather wealth in their marriage.

Finally every guest was given a lighted candle which the happy couple had to dance around the room blowing them out. Guests relighted the candles thus teasing the couple.

More dancing took place until another meal was served at 2 am. Guests started thinning out afterwards but we kept dancing. By now any pretence at trying Hungarian dancing gave way to a British style, exhibited at times of great alcohol infusion. We all enjoyed it and the Hungarians tolerated us and joined in.

Finally at 3 am it was time to come back to the house. We were dropped just a short way away and walked home under the balmy night sky - by now clear.

So we have reached half way in The Hungarian Job and did what we came to do. My baby brother was married to a delightful and beautiful woman. We have sampled Hungarian festivities. We have had a fantastic time and appreciated the warmth of welcome and hospitality of Orsoyla's family. We are very glad we came.

But what goes out must come back. So Sunday is a rest day and then we turn Hugo westwards for the first time, winding our way back across Europe and the UK. We have seen and enjoyed much and their is more to come as we go back a different route. The trip is taking a good long time but now home is the light at the end of the Channel Tunnel.

Oh and the sun is out on Sunday. Bugger!

Journeys end

2010-07-31T10:57:00.000+01:00

It was with a heavy heart that we left Bohinj. The lakes, mountains and the welcome were superb. We would very much like to go back some time.

Mind you it was simply bucketing down until we reached the Hungarian border. But I have to write about the motorway service area we went to. Now before you switch off in case I am in geek mode, let me encourage you to stay tuned and read on. In the UK our motorway service areas are not places you walk in to and feel wowed - though there are a few exceptions. These Slovenian services were just wonderful. We walked into a big delicatessen with all sorts of meat and cheese on display. Not only that but they baked their own bread. Not something that Watford Gap is famous for.

Oh and I had the biggest dohnut ever!

Anyway, our final border was crossed. We found a restaurant for lunch where we feel we were ripped off for the first time in this journey. Once we left the motorway the road was incredibly slow with long speed limits of 50kph or less. We drove through Kronlow, a town built by the communists to make shoes for Russia. When the Iron Curtain collapsed, so did the shoe market.

But we reached our destination safely after some 1800 miles. Orsoyla's parents (Orsyola is marrying my brother Jon) made us most welcome. We speak no Hungarian but Orsolya's mother does speak German so I had a go at speaking to her.

The church for the wedding is a simple but beautiful building. Orsoyla's grandfather carved a beautiful stone alter some years ago. It was moving to see my baby brother do the wedding rehearsal.

The rain followed us here and fingers crossed that it will hold off for the wedding. But as I write this three hours before the ceremony, I can hear thunder so the omens - sadly - are not good.

Rainfall and massages

2010-07-29T20:35:00.000+01:00

It was a very slow start this morning. Breakfast was at 10 - delightful. We ended up back at the police station in Bled to be reunited with my wallet. Another tourist had handed it in, complete with money and credit cards - all now useless as they are all cancelled.

Rather than take the busy side of the lake, we drove around the far side. it was good to be away from the crowds. By now it was raining persistently. But we took a high road through some lovely small villages, complete with corn barns. These are like barns but with no doors. Or roofs. Or Walls. Even then some of these barns had only one wall. They look like oversized towel rails and are, apparently, typically Slovenian.

After coffee, it was of to Slap Savica. In English this sounds like an invitation to admonish someone, but in fact is a waterfall of some 80 metres. It was spectacular enough but there was a five euro entrance fee which seemed a little steep. You paid this to a student in a big hut masquerading as a small shop. The "kiss me quick" hats were out of stock. Hannah and I filled In a pointless questionnaire with questions such as "did the shop meet your needs today"? There was no question such as "shall we get rid of the shop all together"? To the question "what is missing to our facility?" I wanted to put "Starbucks" but neither Julie or Hannah would let me.

By now the rain was torrential but it was time for our massages. I have never had one before and really enjoyed the experience. Both Julie and I were quite destressed afterwards.

So we leave the hotel tomorrow and head for Hungary for my youngest brothers wedding. It seems things start a little earlier than we had thought do we will not be taking the train ferry through the mountain but the fast motorway route. It will be raining anyway so I guess there is not much point in taking the scenic route.

Lakes, nice traffic wardens, cable cars and lost wallets

2010-07-29T07:58:00.000+01:00

We woke up to a beautiful clear blue sky. This was the first time that we had seen such weather for a few days. After a leisurely breakfast we drove further down the valley and parked at the side of the road next to the lake.

This is simply stunning with the clearest water I have ever seen. And not too cold for swimming either. We spent a long time in the sunshine reading and generally splashing about. When you stood in the shallows, fish would come and nibble your feet, whilst you admired the tall cliff face that formed the opposite wall of the lake.

It was after a little while that I noticed an official looking Jeep parked near our car and others. I went up to investigate to find a ticket on our windscreen. It was all in Slovenian of course so I could not read it. I asked the man what the problem was. He explained - very nicely - that parking was only permitted in proper car parks. The ticket tells the driver they will get a fine in the post. By not us as our car is from Britain and the Slovenian authorities cannot get our address. So I asked if I was supposed to pay him instead? Normally yes was the reply but not today - he agreed that I had got away with it. I then said that I would get my family and be gone in a few minutes. "No" came the reply. The sun was shining and it was going to rain tomorrow. "Put the ticket back in the windscreen and enjoy the sun". What a nice man!

Eventually a coffee beckoned and we ended up taking a cable car to the top of one of the mountains. The cable car itself went very fast and was the size of a small bus. Quite quickly you were above the lake with views for miles around. Cliff faces would loom at you before seemingly missing them by a whisker. When you went over a tower, there was a slight lurch and swinging motion that made you feel you were on a rollercoaster.

The views at the top were amazing. The first coffee was inside with views through a picture window. And then we wandered a 100m to have another coffee outside, admiring the view. It was at one of these places that I lost my wallet.

I discovered this when we down from the mountain and about to pay to see a waterfall. After a fruitless retracing of where we had been, I cancelled all my cards. I then had to drive the 20km back to a police station in Bled to register the loss. I encountered the jolliest police man ever. Very friendly.

But all is well that ends well. After dinner, the hotel receptionist came over to tell me that someone had handed in my wallet to Bled police. I kind of get the feeling that Slovenia is very law abiding. We shall see when I find out whether the cash is still in the wallet.

It rains but the sun shines in Slovenia

2010-07-29T05:30:00.000+01:00

The next day saw us complete our transit of Germany. The autobhans continued to be boring and we encountered some very heavy rain. This was frustrating because as we got near Austria, the Alps loomed on our right but were hidden by the low cloud.

Some years ago we drive around Switzerland to see the Alps but also suffered then from poor weather. The cloud was so low that when we took a ski lift up a mountain, you could not see the chair in front.

On this trip, things changed when we moved into Austria. Firstly the road improved and we felt we were in the landscape again, which lifted our spirits. And then the rain became more patchy so the views improved.

After a coffee stop we came out of the first of many tunnels. There in front of us was the biggest mountain I had ever seen. It was amazing! The motorway took us right alongside and into the mountains. Tunnel after tunnel took us into many valleys - some as long as 8km long. The views kept getting better and better which the occasional showers could not ruin. The engineering was gob smackingly impressive.

Just after Salzburg, we arrived at the final tunnel entrance to take us into Slovenia. There were many disused passport booths and offices that reminded me that this used to be the Iron Curtain. Today we were only relieved of a few euros to go down the dingest two way tunnel ever.

On the far side we stopped for a coffee and the sun shone for the first time on us for a few days. We were still accompanied by mountains and they were pretty amazing.

It was not long before we had left the autobahn and heading towards Bohinj. We first went through Bled, which is situated on the most stunning turquoise lake. The sun was sparkling off of it's surface and it looked great. But We continued on down the valley.

And so here we are in the Bohinj Park Hotel. It's a modern building with a water park attached. This has two slides which I naturally found unnecessarily scary and a lovely outdoor pool.

We are here for three nights and it will be good to rest for a few days.

Augsburg and the shortest city tour ever

2010-07-28T04:00:00.000+01:00

We left Schirmeck in the late morning and drove up to Strasbourg to cross into Germany. This was uneventful and, I am sorry to say, uninspiring. The only thing of note to see was in Schirmeck itself where some timber yards had massive piles of felled trees being sprayed with huge water jets to keep them moist. The trees themselves must have been very tall when they were in the ground.

Unusually for such a large city, Strasbourg has no ring road of either motorway or dual carriageway standard. And so you crawl from one set of traffic lights to another. We stopped there in a youth hostel some years ago when the children were small and it is a place we liked very much. The hostel was on the banks of the Rhine and I remember being struck by how wide it was and the big ships that used the river.

But there was no stop on this journey as we crossed the river into Kehl and Germany. We reached the open road and the autobahn, only to be hit massive roadworks. The traffic flowed but slowly. And so it was throughout Germany - the entire autobahn network seemed to be undergoing massive reconstruction. Motoring folklore has it that the German network is fantastic. But I prefer the French autoroutes, which enable you to feel part of the landscape as you travel through. By contrast, the Autobahn divorces you from the countryside. Occasionally large sound fences are used which means that you cannot see off the road. It makes you feel like a racehorse with blinkers on.

And we entered the most chaotic service area ever. The access roads were too small and cars were everywhere with no discernible traffic management. It was a car park pretending to be a traffic jam. Oh and Timbo's Top Tip For Today is that the slip roads onto the autobahans are usually too short and you need to stop before you can find a gap in the traffic. Scary.

Our route took us through a forest on quieter roads into Augsburg. Except that the forest was not really not much in evidence. So this bit of the journey had fine scenic views of car showrooms and other retail outlets. Augsburg itself was not the small town I was expecting but a thriving, bustling city complete with trams. We followed our nose looking for a hotel in the quarter around the Munster and got a suite at the Dom hotel. Sounds grand and it was, but very reasonable. After unpacking we used the swimming pool, having it mostly to ourselves.

So we left the hotel to walk around the city and to find somewhere to eat. Just round the corner from the hotel, in the shadow of the church, we found this really modern looking and stylish bar. The food was great and I had the best pasta dish ever. We sat outside at first but moved indoors when the sky looked threatening. And so it was that the rain stated, which we gazed at over a beer.

And if I am honest, could not resist the waffle desert afterwards.

And so back to the hotel. We liked what we saw of the city and it was a great stop over. After the boredom of the autobahn, it was just what we needed

Memories are strong in Schirmeck

2010-07-27T02:00:00.000+01:00

Our drive across northern France was uneventful. We decided to leave the autoroute early just after Metz to stop for some lunch. A town was entered conveniently close to our exit but, alas as it was Sunday, everything was shut. So we drove out of town and pulled off the road for an impromptu picnic. We were on the top of a ridge and the countryside gently rolled out in front of us. As we drove the remaining miles (or should I say kilometres), the villages we passed through became less French, showing a strong Germanic influence.

Pauline was a young woman who Hannah had done an exchange with last Summer. Since then they had kept in touch and it seemed natural that we should stay one night with her and her parents, Marie-Jose and Pascal. They made us most welcome and I felt we arrived strangers but left friends.

In the morning Pascal offered to walk us up to the war memorial. In the UK, these are columns or crosses in a square or on a green, and this shaped what we expected to see. We were quite wrong as what we found was a large, impressive building that dominated the skyline of the town. It had only been few years since it had been built.

Not having time to go inside, Pascal pointed out to us a large monument across the valley that also dominated the skyline. This marked the spot of the only Nazi concentration camp on French soil. Clearly the memorial building had been positioned so that the story it told could be related to the concentration camp opposite and the locality. I got a strong impression that this part of France was on the front line, with the Germany border close at hand. Pascal told us that his grandfather was conscripted into the German army and died on his way back from the Russian front.

Yet this memorial looked forwards as well with a timeline of European integration engraved into the floor. This was the past helping to shape our future for the better. It left a strong impression.

First night near Calais

2010-07-25T03:00:00.000+01:00

Once in France, it was but a short drive to our first stop to Ardres, just outside Calais. I have always (perhaps unfairly) considered the area around Calais as purely industrial, serving no purpose other than to meet the needs of cross channel traffic. Ardres though, had a pleasant feel about it. Not too overshadowed by its transient neighbour but not to far. Bu the noise from the many mopeds is most unpleasant - do they have no noise regulations?

Our accommodation was in a delightful farmhouse with a beautiful garden that had, unusually, one wall made of glass. An old swimming pool had been made into a pond, full of fish. The effect was simply beautiful.The hosts were very French, the welcome great and the room just lovely, even though it was in the eaves of a converted barn. It was great to switch off after such a long drive.

Our evening meal was a 20 minute walk away, in a restaurant attached to a boating lake. It was a little expensive for what it was but the bottle of wine was most welcome. We walked back along the country lanes as the sun set. The fields were heavy with corn waiting to be reaped. It was idyllic and we were all content. The Hungarian Job was under way.

Breakfast included the most delicious home made bread and brioche. Now I am a marmalade fiend. Indeed my grandmother - when she was alive, God bless her - would always buy me some as a gift for birthdays and Christmas. Now my experience in hotels outside of the UK is that marmalade usually means Apricot jam. But not in this place as the three fruit marmalade was some of the best I had ever tasted. Simply delicious!

Arrived at the Channel Tunnel

2010-07-24T15:29:00.000+01:00

We left on time this morning. The Borders were stunning in the Dawn light. We stopped for a coffee on the tops and the smell of the new morning, the stillness, was intoxicating.

The journey was quick until we hit the M25 where crawled to the Dartford Crossing in the most humongous traffic jam.

But here we are on the train, waiting to depart for France. The Hungarian Job is under way!

6 hours 10 before I wake up

2010-07-23T21:43:00.000+01:00

The car is packed. Passports found. Toothbrushes at the ready. There is nervous excitement that at this time tomorrow, we will be in France. Fantastic! Can't wait.

But now, some sleep.

Well thats it!

2010-07-22T23:24:00.000+01:00

At 1848 precisely tonight, I finished work for 12 working days. What bliss! It was very satisfying to turn off the laptop, with the to do list crossed off and the in box empty.

Tomorrow is packing day. Hungarian Job -2!

2009-12-05T10:47:00.001Z

getting ready for H's party tonight

Spoof street sign to be removed

2009-11-12T12:46:00.000Z

BBC NEWS | England | Bristol | Spoof street sign to be removed Did enjoy this.

Captain pugwash creator sadly dies

2009-07-24T17:31:00.002+01:00

The BBC are today reporting that the Captain Pugwash creator John Ryan has sadly pased away. Being one of those children who grew up on 5 O'clock childrens TV (all viewed in 405 lines black and white), such short programs filled those last precious five minutes before the grown ups reclaimed BBC1 for the boring bits - the news, etc. Magic roundabout, Hectors House (a little too posh for my tastes perhaps, The Herbs and Ivor the Engine - all classics of their time. I wonder if my kids will have similar such memories in 30 years time?

Its not difficult to forget the jolly theme tune and it is right now pootling around my head. It was neat show, complete with a cast of real and mythical characters - the latter gleaned from the playground: we'll not go there.

My condolences to his family.

Goodbye microwave

2009-07-24T08:53:00.002+01:00

Not sure how many blog entries there are about microwaves, but here goes.

Nearly 21 years ago, my first son Jacob was born. My grandmother was still alive and her visits to stay with us were always a pleasure. She was a bit of a sweetie and coming to stay just after Jacob was born, she kindly offered to buy us a microwave, to make our lives a bit easier when a baby's bottle needed to be warmed.

Sadly my Grandmother died about five years later but the microwave lived on, moving with us through three houses. But now we move on again, and the time has come to say goodbye as our new place has a built in microwave. In truth the old one is not as powerful as used to be and its life was approaching the end anyway. But a constant reminder in all of our kitchens of my grandmother will be gone.

It was going to take a final trip to the waste recycling plant but a colleague of my wife is going to take it, replacing one that went kaput earlier this week. It may seem strange to be a bit emotional about such a utilitarian domestic appliance, but its the link with a dearly loved and greatly missed old lady.

My Nan I think would be delighted that the microwave has been such a useful gift to us and hopefully doubly delighted that someone else can use it for a bit longer.

Thanks Nan

Welsh Sparks Alert

2009-07-23T10:27:00.003+01:00

http://transportbriefing.co.uk/news/story?id=6082

It is great that in these financially straight jacketed times, the UK government is proceeding with electrifying the London to Wales railway. Whilst the sight of a diesel train moving some big loads brings some satisfying noises and is an example of visible pure power, in reality electric trains are faster and quieter. And they are greener too (albeit not necessarily if the electricity comes from a dirty source).

When I was a teenager in the 70s, the old British Rail (which really was not as bad as it seemed) talked off the "Sparks" effect when electric trains started running on a rail route. Passengers responded to the faster, cleaner and quieter journeys. It will be interesting to see if that phenomenon will be seen again.

So thumbs up to the UK government, but now there is a long list of other routes needing electrification to go through!

Prime Minister commits to rail electrification - about bloomin' time!

2009-07-01T09:26:00.001+01:00

http://transportbriefing.co.uk/news/story.php?id=6029

Just seen this entry in which he UK Government has just committed to electrifying more railway lines here in Britain - and its about time. Wherever I go in Europe, the railways are electrified. Fast, powerful trains glide through stations and across the countryside. Actually, thinking about it, one place I went in Eastern France was non-electrified, but they were building a TGV line nearby. Now I know that there are pockets of Diesel operation around the continent, but the over riding philosophy is "get the wires up".

When I was a teenager, the railway was electrified to Glasgow (albeit a major extension from the North West) and from London t edinburgh. British Rail (as it was then) knew there was a "sparks effect". People wanted to travel faster and electric trains usually meant faster trains. But in todays contract bound, compensation led railway, it will take a very brave rail operator to attempt something like that. For example, with the electrification to Edinburgh, there was one train each way that did the journey in 3 hours 59 minutes - it used to go like the clappers! But then risk avoidance came in and, instead of ensuring it ran on time, the powers that be made the journeys longer and that journey now takes 4 hours 15. So electrifying the line is great but not enough. Electrification needs ot be combined with a real desire to serve - and not fleece - the travelling public with fast, reliable service. And if they want to throw in some high speed lines as well, then I for one will not complain!

I'm Sorry I Havn't A Clue has returned

2009-06-21T12:49:00.001+01:00

I have just caught up with the first repeat of the first in the series of this ertswhile radio show, since the immortal Humphrey Littleton showed us he wasn't.

From the opening announcement, his dour, slightly bored tones that we all loved were missing. Stephen Fry took over the chairmans role for this show and I think I prefer him as a contestant. Now, I am a Fry fan so this nothing totally negative about Stephen, but it felt like he was reciting someone elses humour - which I guess he was. It will be interesting to see how the other two chairman get on later in the series.

It was still a very funny show with many old favpurites returning, including Hamish & Dougall (whose portrayal of life in the Highlands must be so true, I am assured) and the restablishment of Lionel Blair as the master of "Give Us A Clue". Sadly Samantha was not there but Sven made an appearance.

Its good to have this periannal favourite back on the wireless. Its in a period of adjustment following Mr Lyttletons booking elsewhere, but it still has a strong following of supportive fans, plus a Mrs Trellis of North Wales. Long may it continue to play with us.

50 today!

2009-06-13T19:19:00.001+01:00

Age is a funny thing.

Its the calm before the party starts and we are just having a warm up with some 80s and 90s music. My son glanced at the playlist and laughed, saying it was "old music" - just as I would have done 30 years ago.

As 2008 turned into 2009, I was dreading turning 50. When I was 20, 50 year olds wore tweeds and were wrinkled. They seemed so, so - old frankly. But as I glance around my peers off the same age, I don't see that at all (with some exceptions in the minority I guess). It seems now that age no longer dictates your fashions, life style or politics (Daily Mail readers excepted).

But as today approached, I became used to idea of being 50, realising age does not dictate your life - its the opposite is true. Now its here, I don't feel 50 and its fine to be 50. There is still a sense that there is so much more fun to be had. And I look forward to tonight and the next 50 years!

West Highland Line Magic

2009-05-01T09:50:00.002+01:00

One week ago today, I was riding the West Highland Line here in Scotland.

It was recently voted the number one scenic railway ride in the world - and rightly so. It starts in the suburban sprawl in Glasgow, finds the sea, climbs into woods alongside Loch Lomond and then up onto the wild moors. At dizzy heights it finds moor huge lochs before coming down to the sea at Fort William.

We stayed in Croc na Faire in Arasaig and I can recommend it. Its a sort of bistro pub I suppose, but done up I would say in the last few years. Food was excellent and we were lucky to have a room looking out towards the bay. We walked along the cost for eight miles or so on no recognisable footpath. When we came across a rock or hill, we climbed up and over it. Hence we discovered beaches for which there was no road or easy access - simply stunning.

Some people may say that spending five hours on a British Rail era diesel train may not sound like fun but I can assure you that your nose will be pressed to the window - mine was! Its a trip and weekend that will stay with me for a long time.

If you drive on the M25, look away now

2009-03-28T11:29:00.002Z

I left home yesterday at 4.15 to drive the 200 odd miles to North Yorkshire. Not for me is the coastal A1 to get to Newcastle - although flat it has a lot of two lane highway and full of trucks. So it can be a slow frustrating drive. Instead, I take the more direct but hilly route over the hills.

That too is two lane highway but not many trucks go that way because of the hills. The radio gave many traffic bulletins about the M25 around London being at a standstill. I heard this whilst driving through fantastic scenery with hardly anything else on the road, around the speed limit - and it was rush hour.

The journey route the A1 at Newcastle and, unusually, that had no traffic problems either. So for the whole journey, I was not held up once. It was one of those drives that was a real pleasure. And, sadly, a rarity in the UK.

Tram Nonsense Sorted

2009-03-21T11:07:00.001Z

BBC NEWS | Scotland | Edinburgh, East and Fife | Agreement reached in tram dispute

Dublin had an incredibly bad time when it was building its tram system - and now, Dubliners love them. I have always had the view that Edinburgh will be just the same and so I am delighted to see they have resolved the squabble - sorry, contractual differences - over getting the tracks laid in Central Edinburgh. Of course we do not know how they reached that agreement - was more money handed over, did they reduce the scope? Hopefully all will be revealed in the next few days.

Every city I go to - both in the UK and Europe - that has trams, seems to be very civilised some how. I really hope the same effect will be felt in Edinburgh. in the meantime, Princes Street is traffic free - and really rather pleasant. But now I want them to crack on because I, for one, can't wait to catch a tram to the Airport.

Folkestone Harbour Branch

2009-03-21T09:24:00.002Z

Orient Express branch line and station close to trains

When my wife and I were "serious" before marriage, her parents lived in Folkestone, on the south coast of Kent. Their house backed on to the main railway line and I would sit in the garden watching the London expresses go by (nothing quite like a 4-CEP at speed!). The exciting trains though, were the boat trains. These ran non stop from London and went to either Dover or Folkestone Harbour, where a waiting ferry would whisk the passengers off to exotic continental locations - like Calais. These were identified easily by the extra carriage on the front which had no windows and was for the luggage.

Walking down on the beach, you could not fail to notice Folkestone Harbour: its got a pretty inner harbour, framed by a some how eye catching brick arched bridge, that took the rail line into the ferry port. Always over shadowed by its busy neighbour a few miles away at Dover, it had a charm that somehow counterbalanced the romance of sailing over the sea.

I never saw a train climb up the line from the harbour, something I always wanted to see - its a steep line and the thought of seeing some serious muscle at work, accompanied by large sparks from the electric rail, would have been worth seeing - or so I thought at the time. In recent years, steam trains have been up and down the line- and that would have been a majestic sight, steam pumped with brute force into the sea air.

So I am sorry to hear the line is closing. Its part of my early adult hood and reminds me that life moves on.

25 Years married today

2008-09-24T11:20:00.001+01:00

Today marks our 25th wedding anniversary.

Our relatives have been very kind with their good wishes and cards. But its our children (or young people more like) that moved us. Back in the summer, they bought a large photo album in Disneyland. Then over the last week, they scanned in and reprinted the key visual highlights from the last twenty five years - up to and including our celebratory week away in The Lake district last week. It was fabulous to see a summary of our lives and we were touched that they had gone to such trouble.

So today is a work day :( but tonight, Julie and I are going out for a meal. We feel we have lots to celebrate and lots to be thankful for.

Beach Withdrawl symptoms

2008-09-01T09:36:00.001+01:00

During the summer, I like nothing better than to pack a picnic, a book and head off to the beaches in East Lothian. Its only 30 minutes away, and when the sub shines, its a beautiful way to spend an afternoon.

This year, the weather has been predominantly dreadful. Wall to wall rain has been the order of the day. And if it is not raining, its been grey with a blanket of clouds keeping the sunshine at bay. Rather cruelly, it is still very hot on these days, so one can sense that summer is just not too far out of reach - but it stays out of reach.

And now its September. The summer is coming to an an end and my addiction for being a beach bum has not been fed. Maybe we will have late surge of good weather, so that for a few weekends at least, I can dash out there, enjoy the scenery and some time with the family.

But if it remains wet, then I shall be gumpy all winter :(

Geoffrey Perkins

2008-09-01T09:27:00.001+01:00

Geoffrey Perkins - Telegraph

I was very sorry to read of Geoffrey's death this morning. I have long been an admirer of his work.

When I was a teenager, Radio Active was required listening - irreverent, zany and very funny. And I have been a life long fan of "HitchHikers guide to The Galaxy", which he produced in the early days, listening to it often on my iPod- bizarrely when I do the housework!

Reading this obituary, I had not realised he had contributed to "I'm A Sorry I Havn't A Clue" and that "Mornington Crescent was his invention - something that makes me laugh every time.

Over the years he has borught much enjoyment and Geoffrey was surely one of the all time pillars of comedy - he will be sorely missed.

Back from Vegas

2008-05-12T17:43:00.002+01:00

I'm just back from a work conference in Las Vegas. Work aside, I was looking forward to the trip as it has always seen an exciting place to visit. What I found was a lot of sleaze which I did not like.

But positives first, Ceasers Palace looked great inside and out, and seemed well done to me. Some of the rides on the strip also looked good. and, out of town, the oover Dam and Grand canyon were fantastic.

But I was put off by the amount of prostitution in your face (no pun intended). Everywhere you walked, people were thrusting catalog's of women in your hands or fliers. And there were advertising trucks that advertised some women ordering service (delivered to your door in 20 minutes - yuck) rather than soap powder: in fact the women were treated as a product just like soap powder.

Now I am fairly broad minded and liberal - what adults do in private with other adults is their business as long as no one gets hurt. I recognise the right of anyone to enter the sex trade - I don't wither wish to join their ranks or use their services. But if I did, then a more discrete way of advertising their services should be considered: I saw small kids everywhere and wondered what message it gave them. Also, my company promotes equality for all and seeks to encourage young women in IT. I also wondered what message it gave such young women by staying in a hotel where the cocktail waitresses wore very little.

Then there were the endless slot machines. Suffering from jet lag, I would go down to the 24 hour Starbucks in the early hours most mornings. The same grey and pallid faces seemed to be feeding both their addiction and the casino profits by inserting dollar after dollar into the machines. It struck me as a sad life and a waste of peoples time.

To me there was an undercurrent of harshness there which was not very far below the veneer of "fun" the city purports to present. I know lots of people go there and have a great time. For me, its not a place I want to return to for pleasure.

Humphrey Lyttelton 1921-2008

2008-04-26T10:33:00.003+01:00

I was saddened to hear of Humph's death last night on the radio.

For years I have been an avid fan of "I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue", a BBC Radio programme which is irrepressibly silly and funny. Hump chaired this with a world weary air that enabled several running jokes to be bounced off the the team members. Together with his chief aide, Samantha, sitting on his right hand, Humph would give the team members "silly things to do". He had superb comic timing and a brilliant wit.As Dame Judy Dench once said, he could "read smut like the it was the shipping forecast". I had the great pleasure of seeing him and the teams in a Clue recording in Edinburgh a few years ago: it was a real treat seeing him (and them) in action.

Clue will not be the same but will hopefully evolve again (as it did when Wille Rushton passed away). He was an extremely talented guy who will be missed by Clue and jazz fans alike. My sympathies to his family.

Back from the states

2008-04-12T12:14:00.002+01:00

just back from a business trip to Orlando, to attend a company conference. I was allocated a room in a Disney Hotel, Port Orleans.

A few things struck me about my experience in the US:

There seemed to be very few non white families staying at the resort. Admittedly I was only there for a few days and my snot there all day: so my survey was unscientific. But it seemed to me that the guests mostly white Americans. Now I am not accusing anyone of racism here (so Disney's lawyers can stop sharpening their pencils) but I struggled to work out why this must be so. I do not understand enough of US society to begin to try to understand this but it struck me as sad.
The US continues to be scared of litigation. Everywhere you go, there are signs and announcements constructed in the Department of the Bleeding Obvious. "These doors are about to open" was my favorite, along with "this train is about to stop". And what are we to do about this? Everywhere the nanny state seemed to be alive and well, ostensibly protecting the citizen, yet in reality I suspect preventing some ridiculous litigation. In this day and age, we seemed to be wrapping everyone in cotton wool, to the detriment of everybody's ability to cope with the unexpected and th development of a risk taking instinct. At the end of the day we are (admittedly highly developed) animals, that need to survive in the world. No one can remove all risk from life and we should expect to be able to be responsible for own safety to some extent. Mind, I am not suggesting that corporations and public bodies take a callous disregard for our safety, just that some sort of "reasonableness" test be applied.
Americans are extremely cheerful at wok. This is in contrast to the British who are miserable because they are at work: for both groups I suspect the face masks real feelings. But as a customer, it was great to be greeted with a smile, told to have a "good (or even great) day". The Yanks do seem to have Customer Service sorted out on the whole.
It was lovely to see the moors of Scotland from the plane as I entered Scottish airspace again: to hear British radio. Its great to travel, but there is no place like home!

Flying from the UK with Continental & US Immigration

2008-04-06T18:02:00.001+01:00

I am in Orlando just now for a conference for work. I took the Continental flight over here from Edinburgh. They employ a security firm ITCS to give each passenger the third degree. Before I can check in, I asked if I packed my bag myself and was aware that people ask travelers to take things on board which might be a bomb? I wonder if anyone has said yes to that one.

Its all done with politeness but with a very direct eye contact. I'm a law abiding guy but even I felt guilty. And then at boarding you asked if you had bought anything, if your bags had been with you. Dear me. I know we need security and that there are lunatics out there of all persuasions wanting to take a pot shot. But in the scramble to protect everyone, we seem to have lost some of freedoms and seem to be guilty first until proved innocent. And yet I accept that my safety has a price and that some freedoms might need clipping a bit to keep it that way. I am just not sure that this is the right way to go about it.

I very nearly told the bloke that it was none of his business. But then I suppose that would have meant I would not have flown.

And then US immigration fingerprinted me like the criminal I am. Hmm.

Off to the US

2008-04-04T21:29:00.002+01:00

Well I'm off in the morning to the good old US of A. Its a little daunting the thought of spending 12 hours on a plane: except I think when we get to New York, I'll have to get off, collect my bags and then wander through customs and immigration, check my bags back in and go sit in the same seat on the plane. I very much hope I do not get stuck in immigration and the plane leaves without me!

I will end up in Orlando, in the shadow of Disney. I intend to do some running which I suspect will be early morning due to jet lag. The big questions is, is it safe to do so that early? Will I trip over alligators? or will the local fuzz do me for jaywalking? ;)

Ah well, I suppose I need to get to bed soon for my early start. But first, the pots!

Amazing beach today

2008-03-27T21:04:00.001Z

Amazing beach today, originally uploaded by Timbobean.

Went out to a beach outside the city today. And it was lovely. Whilst it tried to snow in the city, outside it was sunny and warm enough to sit and have a coffee. Which is just what my wife and I did - and it was lovely!

Mad about her dog

2008-03-24T09:25:00.002Z

My daughter is mad about our dog, whom I have nicknamed a "pampered poodle". But even I have grown to like him a bit. He is a good family pet. It gives me a lot of pleasure to see everyone get so much pleasure out of him.

Easter Day

2008-03-23T18:33:00.002Z

Unusually for us, we went down to 7.45 service at church this morning, which was in the garden. It was a lovely clear blue sky morning, not to cold. I wish I had my camera with me as the church steeple against the blue looked fab.

Good friday

2008-03-21T08:08:00.003Z

Good friday, originally uploaded by Timbobean.

As a Christian, Easter is a special time of year - more so than Christmas really. In this photo, the church spire is central. As is the Easter message for me this special weekend.

Bike ready to roll

2008-03-20T15:52:00.006Z

Its Easter time and a long week off beckons. Working abroad a lot means I don`t get to use my bike very much. But Monday has a window of oppoortunity for a ride with my daughter. In the meantime, my bike waits, poised for action in the shed. Looking forward to it!

Facebook fatigue

2008-02-26T11:25:00.003Z

There is a lot of noise in the press at the moment about people signing off from Facebook. Have to say that I have hardly been into it since Christmas and was thinking myself about whether to deactivate my account.

What I have found is that I get bothered by either chain mail (e.g. "forward this or you will loose your right arm later today") or by people putting up items on their fun wall which I don't find much fun. Hence I just seem to get hassle from it.

To my mind, it seems that if the maintenance of something is causing an overhead without any value, then its time to stop. So it looks like I will be Facebook less in the next few days.

But what will I sue to aggregate all the things I maintain about myself? Well, I have an iGoogle home page. But I could use NetVibes. I think I will play with that and then take the plunge at the end of the week.