At the End of One's Wits

Greetings, loyal readers.

I write to you from the plush surrounds of my Georgian-era reproduction B and B bedroom, not far from a town called Berwick-upon-Tweed near the Scottish border. Thankfully they've included things like modern plumbing, and high thread count sheets to make it a little more comfortable than true Georgian times might've been.

This chapter begins with us leaving York and hitting the road to Durham. We took a slight detour to visit a Victorian science museum.  It was very highly rated on Trip Advisor so thought we'd give it a go.  We arrived at the "museum" (and I do use the word very loosley!) which turned out to be some guy's shed (let's call him 'Ernest') built up with shelves covered in what appeared at first glance to be total junk.  Having paid the $AUD equivalent of $30 per person to see this, needless to say, I was somewhat un-impressed.

However as the presentation started, it turned out to be really interesting. Ernest was clearly well researched and had accumulated a significant collection of items related to and based on Victorian-era science.  He demonstrated a number of things, including the first x-ray, the discovery of static electricity, the first ever communication device as well early discoveries around radiation.  The only challenge was Ernest's very specific instructions around lighting.  I was initially given the task of controlling three light switches.  Ernest had been very careful with his instructions, even to the point of saying "do not leave your hand on the lightswitch after you've switched it".  This was actually tempting to do as variously we would be in utter darkness whilst observing different parts of the presentation.

Unfortunately, when Todd took over, he was less adept at managing the lighting so received several admonitions from Ernest both for leaving his hand on the switch and for turning on additional lights that were unrequested. If you haven't already realised that Ernest is a curmudgeonly old man.... this should do it.  The best part of it was at the end when he put on a little "Frankenstein Show" where there were lights flashing and gadgets giving off massive electrical sparks all to a soundtrack of Frankenstein's monster being awakened, interspersed with women screaming.  It even included a cardboard cutout of a castle - I am not even kidding.

Following this, we'd planned to visit Whitby (seaside town on the north-east coast).  Whitby has both a museum dedicated to Captain Cook and the ruins of a particular abbey that we'd wanted to see.  In Bram Stoker's Dracula, Whitby is the site where he first lands when arriving in England.  Indeed, the abbey itself was used in the filming of the movie.  Unfortunately, we didn't account for the hordes (yes, absolute HORDES) of English tourists that were taking advantage of the Bank Holiday long weekend to visit.

Traffic was horrendous and we just: Could. Not. Get. A. Park. ANYWHERE!  Cue absolute meltdown from Todd.

In the end, we reached a cafe called Wit's End, which was entirely appropriate and ironically served the best coffee!  It was in a little town called Sandsend, very pretty and on the beach making for a nice stop on an otherwise stressful afternoon.

We stayed at a farm not far from Durham itself.  This particular place served breakfast at a communal dining table.  Until now, other guests at our various places of accomodation have been mysterious visitors we otherwise whispered about. Now we had to actually talk to them. Thankfully they were nice and polite, though unable to pick our accent. The low point was probably when one of the guests saw fit to correct Todd on a point about Australian Aboriginal history.  You can imagine how that went down.

The next day, after arriving in Durham, I went to the National Glass Centre in Sunderland where I took a brief class in glass blowing.  It was amazing!  I fear I've been bitten by whatever bug is applicable.  Interestingly, when I said I was from Adelaide, everybody at the Glass Centre knew of our fair city, immediately citing the Jam Factory - which is clearly more famous than I'd realised!

Todd was less interested in this, so had agreed to go and do some laundry. Unfortunately for him (and also for me as it turned out!) due to Bank Holiday, nothing was open.  We ended up doing it the next day and by this time, Northern England more generally, was fast approaching the status of "dump" previously assigned only to York.

The one standout from Durham was the Cathedral and the adjoining castle, which is now a residential college for the University... a beautifully spritual place.  Our guides were lovely, very knowledgable and gave great tours.  We were very fortunate that the British National Youth Choir came in to give an impromptu performance in the Cathedral. It was perfect - stunningly beautiful music in the most wondrous setting.

Todd had decided to climb to to top of the Cathedral tower, whilst I stayed to listen to the Choir.  The staircase was so narrow, and used for both ascending and descending that Todd had what can only be described as 'intimate encounters' with various other climbers.  By the look of the people who came down after Todd, some of these wouldn't have been pleasant!

Next post will be from Edinburgh!

Delightfully Turkish

Welcome to the wonderfully old and charming city of York.  Charming that is, but for the myriad groups of women tottering around drukenly in their high heels after a day at the York races.  Additionally, York is now 'dead' to Todd, however more on this later.

Upon arrival we were shown to our room, which is perfectly lovely and particularly spacious.  Breakfasts here follow the same pattern of bacon and eggs.  I've yet to be offered anything really different, so the risk of me having to purchase a muu-muu is ever increasing.

We spent our first full day in York wandering the city and exploring the National Rail Museum.  It was particularly interesting to see the sorts of royal carriages that have been in use... they are soo luxurious!

We had been aware that one of the theatres was putting on a production of Wind in the Willows.  Todd said he wanted to go, however I'd envisaged a children's event so wasn't really keen.  In the end we decided to give it a try.  All seemed perfectly normal until the production began.  It was actually the WORST play I've ever seen... I was periodically closing my eyes and dozing off.  It turned out to be some sort of adaptation for kids that didn't even follow the story properly. This continued for about 60 minutes until intermission where Todd and I decided we'd give the rest a miss.  Of course, you can imagine Todd's view on the matter - classical theatre should not be tampered with etc (especially not by amateur playwrights and local guild players, rah rah).

We then proceeded to walk in the direction of our accomodation.  As we were trundling along, commiserating over the $80 wasted on theatre tickets, we were just about to pass two others on the street.  Totally unexpectedly, it was Cimon's parents!  We exclaimed over the coincidence! Truly, even now, the total oddity of encountering the parents of my good friend from Adelaide, in York of all places is a little mind blowing.

As wonderful a coincidence as it was, it did give me a moment of pause.  It was pure chance that we left the performance at the time we did, and even more so that we were walking down that particular street (as it turned out we were going in TOTALLY the wrong direction).  How many other opportunities, moments, 'conincidences' are we missing? How many other chances for something unexpected or wonderful are passing us by as we look in the other direction? I bet some of this happens in moments where we're preoccupied.  Worrying about something we can't change, or focusing so strongly internally, leaving ourselves blind to what's really truly around us.  We later saw them both individually on another couple of occasions and again I was struck by the randomness of it all.  Being a tourist in a foreign country, you're often drinking in the view.  Is this an attitude / behaviour / mindset that is actually more important to have at home, but we just 'dont' have time for it?'  Not sure...

On to sweeter things, York is home to many chocolatiers and also to a Nestle factory.  The history of the sweet brown stuff in this town is long and very interesting.  In scholarly pursuit of this historical information we decided to undertake a chocolate making course!  We were told a little about the history of chocolate in York (it turns out that Fry's Turkish Delight as well as Nestle Kit Kats are made here!) and given some lessons in experiencing chocolate. It's about more than the taste, you see.  The look, the feel and even the sound! (Dark chocolate has a lower cocoa butter content so snaps sharply when you break it.  Milk chocolate is more muted when you break it due to it's heavier cocoa butter mass - think about snapping a block of butter).

Once we'd selected the type of chocolate we were using, we then tempered it, flavoured it and poured it into a mould.  I had intended to decorate mine with flowers made out of smarties and white chocolate bits, however it basically ended up looking like a two year old had dumped a whole lot of coloured crap in my chocolate bar.

During our scholarly pursuit of information about chocolate (whilst shoving our gobs full of the stuff) I also found out that Kraft (who now owns Cadbury) are variously pairing some of their key product lines to include chocolate.  This includes crackers, Pringles and if you can believe it; Marmite.  Todd is now very worried that this is the beginning of Choco-mite or Vege-late or some other ridiculous combination of milk chocolate and Vegemite coming soon to a shelf near you.

Following this, I treated myself to my first ever cut-throat razor barber shave.  The Turkish guy who performed the service for me was delightful (see what I did there?) and afterwards there were about five different lotions, sprays or aftershaves applied to my face! Very luxurious.

We then walked through the markets of Newgate in York city centre and wandered along one of York's famous town walls.  These walls are ancient and have survivied largely intact for centuries, dating back to when York was a Roman stronghold. Whilst they don't encircle the whole town any more, they do for most of it and it's an imposing sight as you leave or enter the city proper.

We headed home for a quick nap, having spent most of the day on our feet, before indulging in a lovely Indian dinner.  We had bought tickets to see an organ recital in the York Cathedral, however this was not to be.  Whilst we left 30 mins for a journey our sat nav said would take 6 mins, parking in this is city is crazy (as is navigating the narrow cobblestoned streets).  As such we were only 5 (NO exaggeration!) minutes late and by then the doors were tightly shut and our opportunity was missed.

Given this now totals around $120 of money wasted on useless theatre / recital tickets, York has lost some of it's initial charm.  Todd was furious about the whole thing and hence why York is now dead to him.  Lucky we are leaving tomorrow.  He is now insisting that I tell you all, "this town is a dump."

Tomorrow we have an early start (breakfast at 8.30!) to then head to the Victorian Science Museum in Whitby - also home to some sort of Captain Cook museum.  We then head over to Chester-Le-Street to take in Durham and possibly Newcastle.

Baby, Give Your Heart a Break....

Hello again, dear readers.

Well, the Wedding has been and gone and it's now time for us to leave sunny Lincoln and move onto York.

The Wedding celebration was just wonderful.  The ceremony took place in a small church in the village of Stoke Rochford (Todd is insisting that I tell readers that this village is otherwise famously home to Lady McCorquodale - Princess Diana's eldest sister who was in fact dating Prince Charles prior to Diana........ whatever - I think he just likes saying the name 'McCorquodale'). It was a beautifully simple ceremony that was truly moving.  Kathryn looked stunning and the weather held up nicely so all was well.

Following the ceremony, we all returned to Stoke Rochford Hall for dinner, drinks and dancing. As the evening progressed, there were snacks brought out as refreshments for the guests staying late.  I had my first taste of Pork Pie and I must say that whilst it did seem to be a heart attack in every bite... it was quite delicious.  Todd and I retired 'early' at around 11pm however I understand that the festivities went well into the early morning.

We checked into our B&B in Lincoln the day after the wedding and were delighted.  We had variously discussed that our B&B experiences across the UK would likely resemble Little Britain sketches and indeed there were elements of that here.  Our hosts were genuinely wonderful and on the first morning, shared various stories with us including some current challenges around a recently checked out bed wetter.  This then extended to various other stories including one about about a woman who had trouble with her period, another about a man with dementia who pulled a shower rail off the wall and a couple of regulars who are intellectually disabled who come for a bit of nooky... you get the idea.  The recent bed wetter was now demanding possession of the soiled mattress as proof that the proprietors were indeed purchasing a new one and not just going to turn it over.

Our room is decorated in a Victorian fashion with lots of knick knacks about the place.  The only down side is that the shower has been built to a size fit only for a starved indentured child from the Victorian era.  There is simply no room for a portly gentlemen such as myself to even turn around, let along retrieve a dropped bar of soap.

Continuing the heart attack theme, we've so far been breakfasting with abandon.  Each day has been a freshly cooked hot English breakfast and whilst I know that's the purpose of staying in a B&B, I'm feeling the need to moderate my food lest I actually end up needing to travel home in the cargo hold of the plane as I simply may not fit through the door.

(A note here from Todd - I am struck by Danny's engagement with 'old school' English eating patterns - he has taken to pork pie, HP Sauce with every breakfast and even vinegar on chips.  Odd that he would never have eaten any of this at home.  By the time we leave I'll have him eating kippers with horseradish...)

We also spent a day in the town of Boston, not far from Lincoln.  It turns out, this is from whence the Mayflower sailed to America.  We climbed up a tiny spiral stair in the main church called St. Botolph's and had a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside.

 

A disconcerting thing is that variously, people seem to think that we're from America.  This tends to be even after we've started speaking.  Both times this has happened we were wearing shorts and sneakers, so it could be this or just that we're both fat - not sure.

Silence of the Cows

Dear Loyal Readers,

I write this post from the plush three star surrounds of Stoke Rochford Hall - think Downtown Abbey with fluro lighting and a mini bar.  The estate is stunning! The manor home sits on a sizable chunk of land that is lovingly maintained offering beautifully shaded walks through manicured lawns and parcels of gardens tastefully planted.

The only mild surprise was when walking along one such shaded path, I turned to my right and saw about 10 cows just staring at me through a nearby gate.  It was kind of eerie and weird as they were completely silent, just staring at me... like they wanted to eat me or something - yeah weird.

But, alas, I've skipped much.  This tale starts with two fat men crammed into economy seats on an Emirates flight from Adelaide.  After realising with regret that selecting to sit in the standalone two seater row riiiight at the back of the plane and next to the toilet was not the best start the our trip, it quickly went downhill after de-planing when I realised I'd left my trusty Gazman jacket in the overhead locker.  Cue totally exasperated facial expression from Todd.

Of course, nobody in the whole Dubai airport could actually assist with so seemingly simple a task as retrieving something someone left on a plane...!  I actually think I might've been the first person in the history of modern aviation to do this, such were the looks and conciliatory tones offered to me.  As it stands, the man from the Emirates lounge in Dubai is going to see if it can be posted to me (note that no breath shall be held on this matter).

Things looked up when we showered and relaxed in the lounge and had a little to eat.  In fact, the lounge had a man dedicated to polishing shoes for the use of travellers.  He approached and offered to shine my shoes!  I was of course immediately taken with the ye olde world charm of the whole thing and agreed.  He then disappeared with my shoes for like 30 MINUTES!  When he returned, he presented me with my superbly polished shoes and a receipt which seemed to indicate that I needed to pay 30 dhirams for this service.

Uh-huh.. totally suckered. (Refer to previous chapters where I have seperately been duped by a 'deaf' Frenchman as well as a woman 'giving away' roses outside a Viennese museum).

I then spent the next 5 minutes explaining that I had no cash to pay this man anything.  All the while this guy just stood there, smiling and saying "it's ok" BUT he just WOULDN'T LEAVE.  Eventually I stopped inventing different ways of saying "I have no money" and actually looked.  He was holding out a shoe horn for me, and had been the ENTIRE time.

With a soft thankyou, I took the shoe horn from him, used it to put my shoes on and handed it back.  Once all this was done, he smiled gave a small bow, turned and left.

Yep - totally mortified.  Upon reviewing the reciept, it clearly states that the service is 30 dhirams, however it's been paid in full - balance owing - zero.  There was actually no cost for the service.

Things improved when shortly thereafter we were boarding at the departure gate and the check in machine gave an angry "beep beep" when scanning my boarding pass.  I looked at Todd; could this be it?  The stuff of legends and fairy tales?  The magical, elusive, departure gate upgrade?  Sure enough it was and suddenly, it was all worth it... the running around, the drama about various bits of clothing, the waking up every time someone flushed the bloody toilet..... because we had ARRIVED!

Unfortunately I had forgotten that alcohol effects are increased when you're 30 something thousand feet in the air.  Having reverted to my early twenties mentality of "free alcohol means you drink as much as possible while you can" I fully expect that I managed to consume an entire bottle of Verve Cliquot within the first hour or so.  One of these glasses was downed whilst standing at the freaking lounge bar at the back of the plane ('cos that's actually why such tickets cost a bloody packet - you're paying for AN ACTUAL BAR ON THE PLANE - WITH COUCHES!).

Needless to say this improved things and we arrived fresh and ready for London adventures.  Lea had kindly offered to collect us from Heathrow removing the need for us to navigate the Underground and we enjoyed a lovely relaxed dinner with her and Sam at a place called Empress.

The next day, I spent several hours wandering London city (variously having Julia Roberts/Pretty Woman-esque experiences in shops along Regent Street - except the part where she comes back with wads of cash and tells those snobs where to stick it - that part didn't happen).

We had a light dinner at home and then headed back into the city to attend a performance of The Crucible at the Old Vic Theatre, near Waterloo.  The production was amazing, extremely well performed and totally gripping (despite going for about 3.5 hours!)

Today we spent some time tracking down old addresses of some of Todd's ancestors.  Interestingly, they lived really close by (within a few streets of eachother) so we were able to walk around and take some snaps really easily.  Lea had already warned us NOT to go randomly door knocking, but we did manage to locate a lady next door to one house who was happy for a chat and gave us some good pointers, too.  I convinced Todd that video would be a more interesting medium to describe what we were seeing (think "Walkabout Walthamstow, with your host Todd") but unfortuantely he cottoned on too quickly and you will not now be seeing YouTube clips of Todd describing various streets important to his family history.

After all this, a drive of a couple of hours to Stoke Rochford Hall in preparation for the wedding tomorrow.  Can't wait.

A New Adventure...

I'm not sure if I can really call the next adventure "Danoir's Italian Odyssey" as I'm not even going to Italy. I did try to squeeze it in (not entirely just for the purposes of this blog) however it wasn't to be.

So welcome fellow travelers, old and new, to this blog which is hitherto about my journey to the UK (and some other random places).

As I am completing final preparations for my departure (the obligatory pack and re-pack having been completed) I turn my mind to the weeks ahead. What adventures, opportunities and stories await? What chances for mischief, fun and excitement? Hold your breath, loyal followers*. Just a little longer. 

Danny.

*Not literally.