Greetings chums.
It was pointed out to me recently by a chum that it has been far too long since my last blog (so don't blame me). Therefore it is with huge joy that I accede to my public and take to the laptop again, "time to irritate and annoy the great British public".
Actually, the reason that it's been so long between blogs is because I was living life rather than writing about it - something I highly recommend.
A thought occurred to me recently (not totally without precedent, but worrying all the same). The Present Husband (TPH) and I have taken lots of holidays in Europe and the USA; maybe it's time to explore our own little island?
A management meeting was called in the kitchen - while he was doing the washing up - and TPH was advised that we need to rectify this situation - happily the old boy agreed. Brochures were procured and it was decided that what we needed was a Grand Tour of the UK with Great Rail Journeys.
This trip started in London and proceeded to York, Edinburgh, Inverness, Fort William and Ballachulish, Glasgow, Chester, Bristol and finally back to London via Stonehenge.
8 hotels in 14 days - excellent, or so I thought...
Thus, we rolled up to the meeting point at St Pancras station to join the 38 other motley members of this magical mystery tour round the UK. The group of 40 included 3 American ladies, 12 Australians who were 'doing Europe', 1 New Zealander, 1 Scot (TPH) and 1 Taff - our tour guide, Peter.
Peter was a small delightfully Welsh, ex-secondary school headmaster who, after being escorted out of the school gates by an ambulance crew after having a massive myocardial infarction, (heart attack to those at the back) decided to retire and take up tour guide management instead.
It can safely be said that though you can take the headmaster out of the school, wild horses are not going to take the school out of the headmaster! Within seconds of meeting him an overwhelming urge to call him Sir descended on everyone in the group. It became an unspoken rule that if Peter said, be back at the bus in 15 minutes, you were standing next to the bus in 14 minutes and 45 seconds.
The group left Kings Cross to travel to York - a journey of just over 2 hours. We travelled First Class and were thus fed and watered by the rail equivalent of trolley dollies.
On arrival in York we were given our room keys and despatched to our rooms to settle in until the evening meal.
This is where an unexpected problem arose. The room that TPH and I shared was tiny - turning round in it simultaneously proved impossible. The double bed was became exhibit #1 in the potential divorce case. Not wanting to provide early evidence of being awkward sods - we kept that as a surprise for later - we managed as best we could and neither one of us slept for longer than 2-3 hours at a time.
The following day we were given a guided walking tour of York by a retired teacher turned tour guide (can you see a pattern emerging here?)
Nina reminded me of my Home Economics teacher - Mrs Selman - who's contempt for me was only surpassed by my hatred of her. We trolled round York, stopping for long periods so that Nina could hold forth on her knowledge of York's history - all obtained from a book.
Wilting from lack of sleep and back ache, TPH and I sloped off for 40 winks in the afternoon prior to finding a local Pizza Express for a bite to eat and a large glass of Merlot- bliss.
Following a further night of poor sleep, manifesting in a fantasy about throwing the dead body out of the window in order to get the bed to myself (in retrospect this was a little excessive as the old boy does all the washing up and keeps me entertained ) we travelled to Edinburgh for a 2 night stay.
The hotel in Edinburgh was much more conducive to marital happiness. A huge double bed in a room that, should we have been so inclined, we could have done a tango!
2 days of wandering round this beautiful city on our own was terrific, and 2 restful nights sleep followed by the most delicious haggis for breakfast, set us up for the next step of our tour - Inverness.
On our arrival in Inverness, contrary to meteorological expectations, the sun shone, and a gentle breeze kept us cool. TPH and I had never been this far north so we decided to go on one of the City Red Top Bus Tours to gain a little local culture.
We were told by the local landlady and a member of the local constabulary where to pick up the bus and obediently sat there waiting for 20 minutes until one appeared round a corner and shot straight past us. We expressed our disappointment in ways and language that would not have impressed our parents, and trundled back to the hotel for a nice cappuccino and a slice of cake whilst mumbling, "Didn't want to see Inverness anyway..."
Maintaining this, top of the country, theme our next stop was Fort William, where we stayed in a hotel in a village called Ballachulish.
The only signs of life in this beautiful village came from several houses and the hotel. The surrounding countryside was breathtakingly in it's magnificents. If there was ever a doubt about there being an almighty deity with a cunning plan, this would have knocked those doubts into a cocked hat!
A gentleman with an accordian entertained us in the lounge after dinner, while the hotel cat - Diego - looked on with disdain at these human interlopers to his domain.
This far north TPH finally put away his, Eric Morecambe, shorts and wore trousers and a jumper - at last!
The trip so far had allowed rest time each day. This had lulled us into a false sense of security as the following day was packed full to the brim.
Up with the sparrows to get a coach back to Fort William, from where we took the Jacobite Steam Train (the Hogwarts Express) to the coastal village of Mallaig. As a huge Harry Potter fan this thrilled me, though I was a little concerned that without my wand I would be unable to summon my patronus - a white horse - in the event of an attack by Dementors.
What?
After a chips and mushy peas lunch in Mallaig - scrummy - the coach collected us to take us back to Fort William from where we caught the train to Glasgow - 4 hours away.
I can't remember much about Glasgow except that the station was round the corner from the hotel - about 5 minutes walk - but Peter had organised a coach, which took about 15 minutes with road blocks and diversions, and he was determined that we were all going to get on this coach whether we liked it or not!
(he was a little stressed out by this point)
Glasgow was, sadly, only an overnight stop on our way to our next port of call - Chester. We were staying for 2 nights in Chester as the following day we were once again off on an excursion, this time to Liverpool.
For us, this became the highlight of the trip. We toured this beautiful city by coach, with a local guide, who's typical scouse wit and local knowledge brought the city to life.
The fabulous docks, which are now full of cafes, bars and museums, telling the story of immigration, emigration and the slave trade during the past 300 years.
The bus tour included the original, Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, and sites where John, Paul, George and Ringo were born and raised, all accompanied by Beatles sound track songs, which even the grumpiest travellers hummed along to.
We were up to day 9 - the end was in sight (Thank God!)
Today we trundled off to Bristol; arriving early afternoon, just in time for a light lunch and a glass of something relaxing.
"Did someone mention Merlot!"
The hotel in Bristol was lovely; huge bed, huge shower, situated next to the river and within easy walking distance of numerous bars, restaurants etc.
This too was a two night stay as the following day our fellow travellers took off to Bath for a tour of the city. TPH and I decided to stay in Bristol (nothing to do with the lunchtime fixture of Spurs and Liverpool FC which was shown in one of the local bars...) and took one of the City Tour buses.
The final leg of this tour - which seemed such a good idea 3 months ago - was a coach trip to London, via a stop off at Stonehenge.
The last time I visited Stonehenge was in 1969 and it was a bitter experience for me as Michael Smith snogged Sharon Downey in the back of the coach on a school trip and thus broke my heart. This visit though there was no such nonsense as TPH didn't fancy anyone on our coach - RESULT!
Stonehenge continues to be a magical site - and the cornish pasties sold in the visitor centre are spectacular!
Our arrival in London, through Sunday afternoon traffic from the M3 motorway was long and lugubrious. The hotel in London was the worst of all the hotels we had stayed in over the previous 2 weeks and we consequently decided that after 1 further night of the two of us trying to sleep in a small bed, enough was enough. We bailed out on the penultimate day as the call of Kings Cross Station- 4 minutes walk down the road - was just too great.
The holiday overall was fabulous. we visited places, saw sights and met people that we would never have experienced otherwise.
What to do now we're home?
Sell our house and move on of course.
More anon...
Chin-Chin!
