Saturday
After over nine hours sleep, I felt better. Although another hour or two would have been better, but with dawn getting ever earlier, I will take what I got. Outside the sun shone but that wasn't expected to last with heavy ran later. But with sunshine on Sunday, it was a day to relax, catch up on stuff and listen to the big game at lunchtime.
More of that later.....
I had been asked to pick up some tobacco for one of the butchers we go to, so I had to go and drop it off, and that is where I went first thing Saturday morning, out to Preston. And it then gave me the chance to buy some meat for the weekend.
However, it did mean I could call into Kingsdown to check on the Early Spider Orchids, and being before eight, it should mean that the drive down the high street should be quiet, as sometimes it can be a right battle with the road not wide enough for two cars to pass.
A heavy dew had fallen, so it was damp underfoot. I knew where the rosettes where, and with those already open at Samphire I had high hopes; but, there had been little obvious growth in the slike, and looed at least a week away from flowering. But at least I had checked.
I drove into Deal, then out through Sholdham to Sandwich and then across the marshes to Preston. The land was still wet, well it would be so low-laying, but the road was partly flooded but with traffic light on the narrow lanes meant I reached the shop before eight.
The boys were in good form, and we talked about football, travel and life in general. I did get some pies, some steak, but it was hard to get away and I was able to sneak out when another customer walked through the door.
Back home, Jools takes the car to go into town, and I listen to Danny baker on the radio all part of the build up to the Norwich v Sunderland game at lunchtime.
And to the game, a must win game for both teams, but a win for Norwich would go a long way to secure safety. But after a bright opening 20 minutes, City lose their way, concede before half time, and again just after the break. No matter how hard they tried, they could not force the ball into Sunderland' net, and were always liable to be caught out on a counter attack. And indeed they were in the final few minutes, with Sunderland breaking once more and knocking in a third. An altogether bad afternoon was completed with Newcastle winning 3-0. By that time I had lost interest in sport and had switched the radio off at full time in the City game and watched the first episode of The People's History of Pop. I mention this, because it is for this series I am to be interviewed in a little over a week's time Details have been confirmed now, so something else to squeeze in before the trip to Japan.
We feast on pizza and scotch eggs for dinner, with me supping more of the silly strong Belgian beer, rounding of a fine day.
Sunday, 17 April 2016
20 Years
Today, 17th April marks the 20th anniversary of my Father's passing.
I have written much about that fact on this day in years gone by, so you could go and look at those for the background of what happened and how my life changed that day.
I thought about Dad much yesterday, about what he has missed these past 20 years. A divorce, another marriage. Another divorce. Another marriage. Me leaving the RAF, several new careers, Norwich relegated, promoted, relegated, relegated, promoted, promoted, relegated, promoted and now probably relegated again. And all the other shot and wonderful stuff that has happened in the world. But most of all I missed just having him around, although we didn't really see eye to eye all the time, I gained an understanding of him since he died.
It did strike me that at some point, he will have been dead longer than alive as a proportion of my life, and that is a scary thing to ponder.
Sometimes I wish I could just ask him what I should have done, did I do right? Who knows....
This evening, I will have to speak with Mother, and she will say all the right things, as she always does, but then actions speak louder than words, and her actions were not of a loving wife. Or Mother. But that is the way it is, and the situation we have to live with between us, as we try to avoid subjects that will start the recriminations going back and forth.
But nothing will bring the old fella back, sadly. And life goes on, onwards and upwards.
I have written much about that fact on this day in years gone by, so you could go and look at those for the background of what happened and how my life changed that day.
I thought about Dad much yesterday, about what he has missed these past 20 years. A divorce, another marriage. Another divorce. Another marriage. Me leaving the RAF, several new careers, Norwich relegated, promoted, relegated, relegated, promoted, promoted, relegated, promoted and now probably relegated again. And all the other shot and wonderful stuff that has happened in the world. But most of all I missed just having him around, although we didn't really see eye to eye all the time, I gained an understanding of him since he died.
It did strike me that at some point, he will have been dead longer than alive as a proportion of my life, and that is a scary thing to ponder.Sometimes I wish I could just ask him what I should have done, did I do right? Who knows....
This evening, I will have to speak with Mother, and she will say all the right things, as she always does, but then actions speak louder than words, and her actions were not of a loving wife. Or Mother. But that is the way it is, and the situation we have to live with between us, as we try to avoid subjects that will start the recriminations going back and forth.
But nothing will bring the old fella back, sadly. And life goes on, onwards and upwards.
Saturday, 16 April 2016
Saturday 16th April 2016
Friday
I am awake again just before the alarm goes off after some nine hours sleep. I feel somewhat human again, although my head is very wooly indeed. Jools is already up and about feeding the cats and I can hear the coffee pot being put on. I had better make an appearance. Jools has a backlog of work to catch up on, so leaves at twenty to seven, I am writing the previous blog post and listening to the radio. Outside the sun is shining, and it is a fine day to be looking for orchids, but I have work to do.
I switch the laptop on a little after eight, and right away the avalanche of mails continue, with 8.9meg of data uploading into my inbox. So it begins. I have calls to make and then the report to write and send out, though what with other issues raising their heads, I finish the report but fail to send it out as at twelve I have to go out to return the hire car.
I do go via Samphire Hoe to look at the orchids there. I received a tip that a flowering spike had been seen, and I had a copy of the shot, but for the life of me, I could not find the spike. A few minutes walk along the track I see the first flowering orchid of the season, a tiny flowering spike, bobbing in the breeze. I get a shot or two of it, and in the end see eight more, snapping most of them before the increasing wind and rain in the air forces me back to the car.
I drve back down into Dover to refuel the car again, the Mokka had used a tank and three quarters in the trip there and back, not very good. Now, when the car was dropped off, I received no paperwork relating to the hire itself; I had all the legal stuff allowing me to drive in other countries, but not the actual company. The key fob revealed nothing other than the number of the car. I plough through the paperwork and finally find a reference to Avis. Now, I knew where the Europacar and Enterprise offices were, but Avis, I could only guess at the Eastern Docks.
I drive back through the roadworks to the docks and driving into the docks I see someone wearing an Avis jacket. Excuse me, where do I drop the car off? Avis? You can drop it here and I'll sort it out. So, I park up, he glances up and down the car, checks the fuel and says I was good to go. Simple as that. And very different from Enterprise who are trying to charge us £500 for a chipped windscreen, we shall not be using them again I can tell you.
I walk into to town as Jools now leaves off at two and is going to pick me up from town, saving getting a bus or taxi back home. I go to La Salle Verte for a coffee and a huge slice of shortbread, sititng in the window seat looking out as the forecasted rain begins to fall. The windows quickly steam up, and looking down I have drained my coffee cup and have no change for another, so I have to leave.
The rain is falling steadily now, so I stand in the doorway of an abandoned shop, sheltering from the rain, as it gets very grim outside.
Jools arrives and we meet in M&S, we have to pick up some clothes for the holiday, then make tracks back to the car then home as the rain gets ever heavier.
We have received a mighty wodge of material to read from the people arranging our holiday. It is the first time I have had to revise for, which seems to be taking some of the fin away, but just making sure we have the best time in Japan that we can.
Jen comes round before dinner to discuss the trip, as she is coming with us. There is much to discuss, but we end up talking about Nan and Dad's driving. However, we are nearly there, the final arrangements for the trip, how to get our bags from one hotel to another and so on. All exiting stuff. In among the bumpff are the vouchers from all our train tickets, tram tickets and all the other things that will make the holiday go like clockwork.
We have fofte kebabs and chips for dinner; nice dirty food which is just right. I also try the small bottle of Leffe Rituel, which at 9 percent, is more than enough to make me feel snoozy.
We are both tired, in fact once I had my report done for work, a wave of exhaustion came over me, and all I wanted to do was go to bed. The long day on Thursday, eight hours work followed by six hours driving, had taken so much out of me.
We just about stay awake late enough to see the return of The Don before calling it a day at nine.
I am awake again just before the alarm goes off after some nine hours sleep. I feel somewhat human again, although my head is very wooly indeed. Jools is already up and about feeding the cats and I can hear the coffee pot being put on. I had better make an appearance. Jools has a backlog of work to catch up on, so leaves at twenty to seven, I am writing the previous blog post and listening to the radio. Outside the sun is shining, and it is a fine day to be looking for orchids, but I have work to do.
I switch the laptop on a little after eight, and right away the avalanche of mails continue, with 8.9meg of data uploading into my inbox. So it begins. I have calls to make and then the report to write and send out, though what with other issues raising their heads, I finish the report but fail to send it out as at twelve I have to go out to return the hire car.
I do go via Samphire Hoe to look at the orchids there. I received a tip that a flowering spike had been seen, and I had a copy of the shot, but for the life of me, I could not find the spike. A few minutes walk along the track I see the first flowering orchid of the season, a tiny flowering spike, bobbing in the breeze. I get a shot or two of it, and in the end see eight more, snapping most of them before the increasing wind and rain in the air forces me back to the car.I drve back down into Dover to refuel the car again, the Mokka had used a tank and three quarters in the trip there and back, not very good. Now, when the car was dropped off, I received no paperwork relating to the hire itself; I had all the legal stuff allowing me to drive in other countries, but not the actual company. The key fob revealed nothing other than the number of the car. I plough through the paperwork and finally find a reference to Avis. Now, I knew where the Europacar and Enterprise offices were, but Avis, I could only guess at the Eastern Docks.
I drive back through the roadworks to the docks and driving into the docks I see someone wearing an Avis jacket. Excuse me, where do I drop the car off? Avis? You can drop it here and I'll sort it out. So, I park up, he glances up and down the car, checks the fuel and says I was good to go. Simple as that. And very different from Enterprise who are trying to charge us £500 for a chipped windscreen, we shall not be using them again I can tell you.I walk into to town as Jools now leaves off at two and is going to pick me up from town, saving getting a bus or taxi back home. I go to La Salle Verte for a coffee and a huge slice of shortbread, sititng in the window seat looking out as the forecasted rain begins to fall. The windows quickly steam up, and looking down I have drained my coffee cup and have no change for another, so I have to leave.
The rain is falling steadily now, so I stand in the doorway of an abandoned shop, sheltering from the rain, as it gets very grim outside.
Jools arrives and we meet in M&S, we have to pick up some clothes for the holiday, then make tracks back to the car then home as the rain gets ever heavier.
We have received a mighty wodge of material to read from the people arranging our holiday. It is the first time I have had to revise for, which seems to be taking some of the fin away, but just making sure we have the best time in Japan that we can.
Jen comes round before dinner to discuss the trip, as she is coming with us. There is much to discuss, but we end up talking about Nan and Dad's driving. However, we are nearly there, the final arrangements for the trip, how to get our bags from one hotel to another and so on. All exiting stuff. In among the bumpff are the vouchers from all our train tickets, tram tickets and all the other things that will make the holiday go like clockwork.
We have fofte kebabs and chips for dinner; nice dirty food which is just right. I also try the small bottle of Leffe Rituel, which at 9 percent, is more than enough to make me feel snoozy.
We are both tired, in fact once I had my report done for work, a wave of exhaustion came over me, and all I wanted to do was go to bed. The long day on Thursday, eight hours work followed by six hours driving, had taken so much out of me.We just about stay awake late enough to see the return of The Don before calling it a day at nine.
Friday, 15 April 2016
Friday 15th April 2016
Thursday
I has slept like a log, but the traffic outside, not too loud, but has woken me. I checked the phone: half six, so, seven hours sleep. Not enough, but it'd do. Outside the sun was about to rise, and the sky was perfectly clear, it looked like it was going to be a perfect Spring day; and as usual, I would be inside a factory until late afternoon. Oh well, pays the bills. I lay in bed listening to the outside world going about its business. I stretched and closed my eyes.
I was woken again by the phone alarm; time to get to work and do what I am paid for. I meet Manu downstairs for breakfast. More importantly, coffee. Lots of coffee. And fruit. That really is better.
I pay the bill, go upstairs to shower, pack and leave, making sure I have not forgotten anything, and I didn't, which shows how good I am this travel thing for work malarkey.
In the parking lot, I program the sat nav, Manu says he will follow me, and with a travel time of very nearly 5 minutes, it wasn't going to be tough. Onto the main road, along for half a mile and into the industrial estate, and with the security gates wide open, we drive right into the yard and to the visitor car park. No matter how times we said that we drove right in, our host did not believe us, it would take us leaving and us inquiring what to do as we did not have a leaving chit for him to sign, then he believed me.
So, lets get to work, anyway.
A meeting in the warmth of a spring morning, looking out to the countryside the other side of the car park, made it tempting to just give up on the meeting and go for a walk in the country. But I didn't.
The meeting wrapped up at half three, we all shook hands and went to our cars. As I had no exit chit, I followed one who did and hoped for the best, only to get busted for speeding through the factory yard, the guard had received a call from the factory manager to make sure we were told off, especially the one with the British number plate. That'll be me then.
I was allowed to leave, so I pulled over, programmed the sat nav for Calais: four and a half hours; sounded right. So, deep sigh, here we go.
Only the first problems was that it wanted to take me back to the autobahn and then back into Germany to Koln: I was sure I knew better, cutting across country I thought I knew like the back of my hand, back to Weeze and down the 271; would save ages. Of course, as all Hobbits know, short cuts make for long delays, and instead of the estimated arrival time being 19:40, that soon slipped to 20:30. Bugger. But, I did find a nice quiet grage to fill up the tank in, and they had raspberry Magnums to tempt me. I was too weak to resist, and it was fuitifully wonderful.
The sat nav took me over the Maas via a new bridge then down another motorway back to Venlo then heading west, retracing my wheeltracks of the day before. All the time driving into the golden light of the setting sun. Traffic was variable, from thick with trucks and cars, to miles and miles of clear road, which made driving at the speed limit a joy. Passing round Eindhoven was fine, and all was fine until I got near to Antwerp. As I have said, Antwerp has a number of motorways and major roads converging then running together through the centre of the city beside the main line railway to the Kennedy Tunnel. It was horrible, we slowed down and crawled for ten miles, stopping and starting.
Just when you thought I would be there forever, a matrix sign said that time to Antwerp West junction was just ten minutes; suddenrly the jams cleared, we sped up and dropped down into the tunnel as more motorways split off, and I was on clear roads down to Gent and into France.
A huge storm over the Channel sent strong showers as I hammered along, but it was fine, I could now tick off places I knew so well, until crossing the boarder into France, past Dunkirk to Calais. It was nearly dark when I pulled up at the self check in, and I was just an hour earlier than planned. I could have got on a train in ten minutes, but decided to go to the terminal for a drink and some retail therapy.
I buy a coffee with cinnamon syrup and some almond biscotti, which went down rather well. For retail therapy, I buy two boxes of chocolate truffles and a selection of French mustard. As you do.
I see that my train has been called, so walk to the car and drive alone to the waiting area, but am just waved through and onto the platform then onto the train, where there are only about half a dozen other cars on board. As before, the doors close, we have a safety brief then move off. Good bye France.
I finish my magazine just as we arrive back in Folkestone, and then I can put the radio on the see how Liverpool were doing. Badly as it turned out, already 2-0 down to Dortmund, and looking like they would concede more.
Once arriving home, I thought it would be bad form to put the radio on, so a while later I check the internet to find they were now drawing 3-3. Just before the end of the game, there is a huge roar from next door, signifying that Liverpool had scored a final minute winner. Quite a game, so much so that I record the highlights show to watch int he morning.
I am shattered, but my mind is still racing after driving for 5 hours, so I get ready for bed then lay in the dark as the rain falls steadily outside, until at some point about 11, I nod off.
I has slept like a log, but the traffic outside, not too loud, but has woken me. I checked the phone: half six, so, seven hours sleep. Not enough, but it'd do. Outside the sun was about to rise, and the sky was perfectly clear, it looked like it was going to be a perfect Spring day; and as usual, I would be inside a factory until late afternoon. Oh well, pays the bills. I lay in bed listening to the outside world going about its business. I stretched and closed my eyes.
I was woken again by the phone alarm; time to get to work and do what I am paid for. I meet Manu downstairs for breakfast. More importantly, coffee. Lots of coffee. And fruit. That really is better.
I pay the bill, go upstairs to shower, pack and leave, making sure I have not forgotten anything, and I didn't, which shows how good I am this travel thing for work malarkey.
In the parking lot, I program the sat nav, Manu says he will follow me, and with a travel time of very nearly 5 minutes, it wasn't going to be tough. Onto the main road, along for half a mile and into the industrial estate, and with the security gates wide open, we drive right into the yard and to the visitor car park. No matter how times we said that we drove right in, our host did not believe us, it would take us leaving and us inquiring what to do as we did not have a leaving chit for him to sign, then he believed me.
So, lets get to work, anyway.
A meeting in the warmth of a spring morning, looking out to the countryside the other side of the car park, made it tempting to just give up on the meeting and go for a walk in the country. But I didn't.
The meeting wrapped up at half three, we all shook hands and went to our cars. As I had no exit chit, I followed one who did and hoped for the best, only to get busted for speeding through the factory yard, the guard had received a call from the factory manager to make sure we were told off, especially the one with the British number plate. That'll be me then.
I was allowed to leave, so I pulled over, programmed the sat nav for Calais: four and a half hours; sounded right. So, deep sigh, here we go.
Only the first problems was that it wanted to take me back to the autobahn and then back into Germany to Koln: I was sure I knew better, cutting across country I thought I knew like the back of my hand, back to Weeze and down the 271; would save ages. Of course, as all Hobbits know, short cuts make for long delays, and instead of the estimated arrival time being 19:40, that soon slipped to 20:30. Bugger. But, I did find a nice quiet grage to fill up the tank in, and they had raspberry Magnums to tempt me. I was too weak to resist, and it was fuitifully wonderful.
The sat nav took me over the Maas via a new bridge then down another motorway back to Venlo then heading west, retracing my wheeltracks of the day before. All the time driving into the golden light of the setting sun. Traffic was variable, from thick with trucks and cars, to miles and miles of clear road, which made driving at the speed limit a joy. Passing round Eindhoven was fine, and all was fine until I got near to Antwerp. As I have said, Antwerp has a number of motorways and major roads converging then running together through the centre of the city beside the main line railway to the Kennedy Tunnel. It was horrible, we slowed down and crawled for ten miles, stopping and starting. Just when you thought I would be there forever, a matrix sign said that time to Antwerp West junction was just ten minutes; suddenrly the jams cleared, we sped up and dropped down into the tunnel as more motorways split off, and I was on clear roads down to Gent and into France.
A huge storm over the Channel sent strong showers as I hammered along, but it was fine, I could now tick off places I knew so well, until crossing the boarder into France, past Dunkirk to Calais. It was nearly dark when I pulled up at the self check in, and I was just an hour earlier than planned. I could have got on a train in ten minutes, but decided to go to the terminal for a drink and some retail therapy.
I buy a coffee with cinnamon syrup and some almond biscotti, which went down rather well. For retail therapy, I buy two boxes of chocolate truffles and a selection of French mustard. As you do.
I see that my train has been called, so walk to the car and drive alone to the waiting area, but am just waved through and onto the platform then onto the train, where there are only about half a dozen other cars on board. As before, the doors close, we have a safety brief then move off. Good bye France.
I finish my magazine just as we arrive back in Folkestone, and then I can put the radio on the see how Liverpool were doing. Badly as it turned out, already 2-0 down to Dortmund, and looking like they would concede more.
Once arriving home, I thought it would be bad form to put the radio on, so a while later I check the internet to find they were now drawing 3-3. Just before the end of the game, there is a huge roar from next door, signifying that Liverpool had scored a final minute winner. Quite a game, so much so that I record the highlights show to watch int he morning.
I am shattered, but my mind is still racing after driving for 5 hours, so I get ready for bed then lay in the dark as the rain falls steadily outside, until at some point about 11, I nod off.
Thursday, 14 April 2016
Thursday 14th March 2016
Wednesday
My mind was already awake when it stirred me from my slumbers at half four. It was going over the stuff I had to do that day, and the route to take and places to visit. Because today was the day of the big roadtrip, one that is now so easy and commonplace, but really is a wonder; within 5 hours of leaving home, I would drive in 5 countries, and visit where I used to live in Germany before meeting a colleague at our hotel for the night for a steak and beer supper.
I lay awake until about quarter to six then began to final preparations for the trip, making breakfast, feeding the cats and so on. Outside it was a clear and bright day, a perfect day for travel.
One final check of my documents, load the car and lock the house before setting off for the Channel Tunnel terminal on the edge of Folkestone. And as usual the A20 was a proper racetrack with weirdos traveling to work in their cars at nearly 100mph; no, I don't get it either. I was tempted to pop into Samphire Hoe to check on the orchids, but thought better of it so accelerated up Shakespeare Cliff, zooming past the lorries struggling up the hill.
I arrived at the terminal to find no queues, so different to last time when all lanes were blocked by trucks trying to get over to France, so I cruise up to the automated check in, the computer reads the numberplate of the car and on the screen are my and the car's details; I get a boarding pass, and have 40 minutes before departure. I go into the terminal to use the facilities and to check on the duty free bargains; not that it is duty free anyomore, nor are there many bargains either. But it is nice to look. There were very few other people about, until a coach filled with teens disgorges its load, and the hall is full of chatter. I get a day-glo vest and emergency triangle; more stuff the car hire people failed to provide; so more stuff the company had to pay for.
I drive to the platforms and am directed to the upper level of the train, driving along most of the length of it before being directed to stop, apply the brake and placing the car in first gear. After the safety announcements, the train pulls away and in a few minutes we disappear into the tunnel and the blackness of the tunnel under the sea. I have a magazine to read, and in the 35 minutes manage to read a couple of articles before we emerge into the sunshine on the French side.
The train slides to a halt, the partition doors open and a few seconds later we can drive off, up the ramp, round a bend and onto the motorway and into Europe. As I had a car, with a large boot, best make use of it by calling in for a few minutes at the wine warehouse; just a couple of boxes of mid-range wine. Well, I say mid-range; some bottles were over €100, and I was willing to pay up to €6, so, triple the usual plonk I buy. Oh, and I want to scour the aisles of Belgian beers, which has expanded in the last year. I buy a dozen small bottles of Leffe, and with my shopping done, I pay then pack the car, so now it clinks slightly when I apply the brakes sharply.
I have a four hour drive ahead of me, so I settle in the car and point the car in the direction of Belgium and rejoin the motorway.
THis route I knew well, as I used to do this commute when I was posted in Germany, so the places acted as waypoints, all familiar to me: the French/Belgian border, Gent ad then the run up to Antwerp (which is where I had planned to spend the previous night before travel was stopped by my employer). Anyway, Antwerp means traffic jams, as motorways from all over Belgium and Europe converge to funnel through a six-lane tunnel then combining, splitting along a 5 mile stretch of ring road, which can be terrifying for the first time visitor to this. In fact, this was the easiest passage I had through the city, not dropping below 80kmh at any point as all lanes were without blockages. I left towards Eindhoven on the other side, and the traffic thinned even further.
At times the inside lane of the motorway was mile after mile of trucks carrying freight; wouldn't it be better if this all traveled by rail? The damage all these truck to the roads is huge, and when one decides to overtake another, accelerating to nearly half a kmh faster than the other, it causes huge tailbacks of cars. Just moaning? maybe, but it really is crazy to have so many trucks when the European rail network is so set up for carrying freight.
I take another turn off at Eindhoven, driving the last motorway leg to Venlo, from where I planned to take a side road to where I used to live just over the border in Germany.
I take the turning onto the N271, which runs north out of Venlo, beside the River Maas; this used to be my neighbourhood, with regular shopping trips into Holland along this road. IN my mind I thought I knew very village, turn and landmark of it; but turns out that in 20 years it has changed so much, I recognised almost nothing, except the thermal baths at Klein Wink I visited a couple of times. At two points, the river approached the side of the road, this was the view I remembered, but the view was lost quickly, and instead the road carried on through light woodland or farmland.
I panicked that I would forget the turn to the old base, but it was signposted well, and the narrow road twisted and turned through Well woods to the old border where there used to be a fruit and vegetables and cheese shop, where we also used to shop. It is now a convience store, but I am thirsty, so go in to buy a drink, and end up buying more fritsause and two bottles of Curry Ketchup.
From there the road to Weeze skirts round the side of the old RAF Laarbruch, my old home, but it seems to go on forever, which confuses me, but again shows how poor my memory is. I had thought of going into Weeze again, but my thoughts turned to when Jools and I went there a few years back, and there was little that I remembered other than the Turkish fast food place, The Botan Grill, and the Itialian Ice Cream parlour; all German towns seem to have one. And as I had beer, mayo and ketchup, there was little need to go into the town again.
Instead I thought I might visit the next town along the main road, Kevelaer, an historical and religious centre with a fine old church and splendid stained glass windows. But as I approached the town, the road was blocked by a huge accident, and instead of sitting there, I decide to perform a turn in the road then find somewhere to stop to program the sat nav for the last push to the hotel.
I find a parking place just before the motorway, and to my surprise the hotel is just 40 minutes away. A blast down the motorway towards Koln, then turn off towards Wessel, crossing the Rheine and into Voerde; even though the sat nav threw a hissy fit that I was crossing a bridge it didn't think existed, it refused to come up with any new directions, but luckily, Voerde showed up on the road signs soon after.
I find the hotel a typical modern German building, but inside I find it tired and staffed by people who knew less English than I knew German. But I check in and go to my room to try to do some work, but end up battling with one of the worse internet connections I have come across in recent years. I get it working, but it dumps me off every 5 minutes, which I soon tire of and go for a walk with my camera.
Now, let me get this straight there is nothing wrong per se with Voerde, but it is faceless, modern place. But it is clean, tidy and the shops seem to be doing OK. Just that I am used to towns with cathedrals, or timber-framed houses or cobbled streets or all of them at once. So, this was a little disappointment. As was the lack of any good looking places to eat other than the usual Turkish shsisha bar and a greasy looking imbiss.
I spot a sign pointing to the railway station, so go to snap a few passing trains, before I become an object of attention for a group of teens. So I walk back to the hotel to wait for my colleague to arrive so I could have dinner. I do stop att eh bar for a beer; a huge half litre stein of a thing full of strong pilsner, making my head spin on an empty stomach.
Manu arrives at just gone seven, so we meet at half past,a nd after the confusion of being presented with two different menus, we find which is the right one and both order onion soup followed by pepper steak. It is pretty darn good, especially to this hungry bloke, washed down with more beer and good conversation.
Back in my room, the Bayern game is on TV, they win quite easily, but to ensure this is the case I end up staying up to quarter to 11; and I am shattered, so tired. But hey; football.
My mind was already awake when it stirred me from my slumbers at half four. It was going over the stuff I had to do that day, and the route to take and places to visit. Because today was the day of the big roadtrip, one that is now so easy and commonplace, but really is a wonder; within 5 hours of leaving home, I would drive in 5 countries, and visit where I used to live in Germany before meeting a colleague at our hotel for the night for a steak and beer supper.
I lay awake until about quarter to six then began to final preparations for the trip, making breakfast, feeding the cats and so on. Outside it was a clear and bright day, a perfect day for travel.
One final check of my documents, load the car and lock the house before setting off for the Channel Tunnel terminal on the edge of Folkestone. And as usual the A20 was a proper racetrack with weirdos traveling to work in their cars at nearly 100mph; no, I don't get it either. I was tempted to pop into Samphire Hoe to check on the orchids, but thought better of it so accelerated up Shakespeare Cliff, zooming past the lorries struggling up the hill.
I arrived at the terminal to find no queues, so different to last time when all lanes were blocked by trucks trying to get over to France, so I cruise up to the automated check in, the computer reads the numberplate of the car and on the screen are my and the car's details; I get a boarding pass, and have 40 minutes before departure. I go into the terminal to use the facilities and to check on the duty free bargains; not that it is duty free anyomore, nor are there many bargains either. But it is nice to look. There were very few other people about, until a coach filled with teens disgorges its load, and the hall is full of chatter. I get a day-glo vest and emergency triangle; more stuff the car hire people failed to provide; so more stuff the company had to pay for.
I drive to the platforms and am directed to the upper level of the train, driving along most of the length of it before being directed to stop, apply the brake and placing the car in first gear. After the safety announcements, the train pulls away and in a few minutes we disappear into the tunnel and the blackness of the tunnel under the sea. I have a magazine to read, and in the 35 minutes manage to read a couple of articles before we emerge into the sunshine on the French side.
The train slides to a halt, the partition doors open and a few seconds later we can drive off, up the ramp, round a bend and onto the motorway and into Europe. As I had a car, with a large boot, best make use of it by calling in for a few minutes at the wine warehouse; just a couple of boxes of mid-range wine. Well, I say mid-range; some bottles were over €100, and I was willing to pay up to €6, so, triple the usual plonk I buy. Oh, and I want to scour the aisles of Belgian beers, which has expanded in the last year. I buy a dozen small bottles of Leffe, and with my shopping done, I pay then pack the car, so now it clinks slightly when I apply the brakes sharply.I have a four hour drive ahead of me, so I settle in the car and point the car in the direction of Belgium and rejoin the motorway.
THis route I knew well, as I used to do this commute when I was posted in Germany, so the places acted as waypoints, all familiar to me: the French/Belgian border, Gent ad then the run up to Antwerp (which is where I had planned to spend the previous night before travel was stopped by my employer). Anyway, Antwerp means traffic jams, as motorways from all over Belgium and Europe converge to funnel through a six-lane tunnel then combining, splitting along a 5 mile stretch of ring road, which can be terrifying for the first time visitor to this. In fact, this was the easiest passage I had through the city, not dropping below 80kmh at any point as all lanes were without blockages. I left towards Eindhoven on the other side, and the traffic thinned even further.
At times the inside lane of the motorway was mile after mile of trucks carrying freight; wouldn't it be better if this all traveled by rail? The damage all these truck to the roads is huge, and when one decides to overtake another, accelerating to nearly half a kmh faster than the other, it causes huge tailbacks of cars. Just moaning? maybe, but it really is crazy to have so many trucks when the European rail network is so set up for carrying freight.
I take another turn off at Eindhoven, driving the last motorway leg to Venlo, from where I planned to take a side road to where I used to live just over the border in Germany.
I take the turning onto the N271, which runs north out of Venlo, beside the River Maas; this used to be my neighbourhood, with regular shopping trips into Holland along this road. IN my mind I thought I knew very village, turn and landmark of it; but turns out that in 20 years it has changed so much, I recognised almost nothing, except the thermal baths at Klein Wink I visited a couple of times. At two points, the river approached the side of the road, this was the view I remembered, but the view was lost quickly, and instead the road carried on through light woodland or farmland.
I panicked that I would forget the turn to the old base, but it was signposted well, and the narrow road twisted and turned through Well woods to the old border where there used to be a fruit and vegetables and cheese shop, where we also used to shop. It is now a convience store, but I am thirsty, so go in to buy a drink, and end up buying more fritsause and two bottles of Curry Ketchup.
From there the road to Weeze skirts round the side of the old RAF Laarbruch, my old home, but it seems to go on forever, which confuses me, but again shows how poor my memory is. I had thought of going into Weeze again, but my thoughts turned to when Jools and I went there a few years back, and there was little that I remembered other than the Turkish fast food place, The Botan Grill, and the Itialian Ice Cream parlour; all German towns seem to have one. And as I had beer, mayo and ketchup, there was little need to go into the town again.
Instead I thought I might visit the next town along the main road, Kevelaer, an historical and religious centre with a fine old church and splendid stained glass windows. But as I approached the town, the road was blocked by a huge accident, and instead of sitting there, I decide to perform a turn in the road then find somewhere to stop to program the sat nav for the last push to the hotel.I find a parking place just before the motorway, and to my surprise the hotel is just 40 minutes away. A blast down the motorway towards Koln, then turn off towards Wessel, crossing the Rheine and into Voerde; even though the sat nav threw a hissy fit that I was crossing a bridge it didn't think existed, it refused to come up with any new directions, but luckily, Voerde showed up on the road signs soon after.
I find the hotel a typical modern German building, but inside I find it tired and staffed by people who knew less English than I knew German. But I check in and go to my room to try to do some work, but end up battling with one of the worse internet connections I have come across in recent years. I get it working, but it dumps me off every 5 minutes, which I soon tire of and go for a walk with my camera.
Now, let me get this straight there is nothing wrong per se with Voerde, but it is faceless, modern place. But it is clean, tidy and the shops seem to be doing OK. Just that I am used to towns with cathedrals, or timber-framed houses or cobbled streets or all of them at once. So, this was a little disappointment. As was the lack of any good looking places to eat other than the usual Turkish shsisha bar and a greasy looking imbiss.
I spot a sign pointing to the railway station, so go to snap a few passing trains, before I become an object of attention for a group of teens. So I walk back to the hotel to wait for my colleague to arrive so I could have dinner. I do stop att eh bar for a beer; a huge half litre stein of a thing full of strong pilsner, making my head spin on an empty stomach.Manu arrives at just gone seven, so we meet at half past,a nd after the confusion of being presented with two different menus, we find which is the right one and both order onion soup followed by pepper steak. It is pretty darn good, especially to this hungry bloke, washed down with more beer and good conversation.
Back in my room, the Bayern game is on TV, they win quite easily, but to ensure this is the case I end up staying up to quarter to 11; and I am shattered, so tired. But hey; football.
Tuesday, 12 April 2016
Wednesday 13th April 2016
As I am on my travels in the morning, you get a bonus blog today, all about what happened today.
You lucky people.
Tuesday
Outside there is a smart new hire car, all fueled, insured and set to drive over the Channel, but due to the terrorist attacks, there is to be no travel through Brussels airport, although not affecting me, the meeting today was by computer, so no need to travel. And the news of the change came too late to alter my travel plans, so the car is outside.
But I get to go tomorrow, drive through Pas de Nord into Belgium, Holland and finally into Germany to the hotel. Should take about 4 and a half hours from Calais, and I have all day to do the trip, so no worries.
It was cloudy in the morning, but with some wonderful light as the sun rose away in the east. I go outside to check on the frits, as usual, put bird food out and once Jools has left for work, have breakfast and steel myself for another day of meetings.
The cats settle down and I am left alone, well apart from when he brought in a, thankfully, dead mouse and laid on the floor beneath my chair with the mouse corpse between his front paws. He was happy, I was just glad I did not have to break off the meeting to catch said mouse.
I take breaks to walk in the sunshine that had broken through and manage to take some shots of the flowers, a ladybird I rescued from one of the wildlife pools, and a Comma butterfly, the first one I snapped this spring.
The afternoon is given over to one long meeting; the video on one communicator system, and the audio on another; and more amazingly, both work very well and we have a good meeting.
But disaster had struck: I was out of coffee. So there was nothing to it other than to go to Tesco to get a pack of coffee, and somehow a huge custard cream cake/biscuit thing also fell into the basket. I came back via Kingsdown, just to look at the Early Spiders, but see only spikes forming again. Will be weekend at the earliest.
The day ends with some last minute mails and setting an out of office message, and somehow it is already five in the afternoon, and time to prepare dinner; the old favourite, chorizo hash. But another disaster in that we are now out of picante paprika.
This evening there has been a shower, packing and listening to the football. And another day has slipped through my fingers, and tomorrow there is a road trip. A good day beckons. See you at the weekend.
You lucky people.
Tuesday
Outside there is a smart new hire car, all fueled, insured and set to drive over the Channel, but due to the terrorist attacks, there is to be no travel through Brussels airport, although not affecting me, the meeting today was by computer, so no need to travel. And the news of the change came too late to alter my travel plans, so the car is outside.
But I get to go tomorrow, drive through Pas de Nord into Belgium, Holland and finally into Germany to the hotel. Should take about 4 and a half hours from Calais, and I have all day to do the trip, so no worries.It was cloudy in the morning, but with some wonderful light as the sun rose away in the east. I go outside to check on the frits, as usual, put bird food out and once Jools has left for work, have breakfast and steel myself for another day of meetings.
The cats settle down and I am left alone, well apart from when he brought in a, thankfully, dead mouse and laid on the floor beneath my chair with the mouse corpse between his front paws. He was happy, I was just glad I did not have to break off the meeting to catch said mouse.I take breaks to walk in the sunshine that had broken through and manage to take some shots of the flowers, a ladybird I rescued from one of the wildlife pools, and a Comma butterfly, the first one I snapped this spring.
The afternoon is given over to one long meeting; the video on one communicator system, and the audio on another; and more amazingly, both work very well and we have a good meeting.But disaster had struck: I was out of coffee. So there was nothing to it other than to go to Tesco to get a pack of coffee, and somehow a huge custard cream cake/biscuit thing also fell into the basket. I came back via Kingsdown, just to look at the Early Spiders, but see only spikes forming again. Will be weekend at the earliest.
The day ends with some last minute mails and setting an out of office message, and somehow it is already five in the afternoon, and time to prepare dinner; the old favourite, chorizo hash. But another disaster in that we are now out of picante paprika.This evening there has been a shower, packing and listening to the football. And another day has slipped through my fingers, and tomorrow there is a road trip. A good day beckons. See you at the weekend.
Tuesday 12th April 2016
Monday
Unbelievably, there are just 24 days until the great Japanese adventure begins. There are some last minute planning to do; buying clothes, booking seats together on the flight, planning our free days, looking at maps, learning how the new notebook works so photographs can be backed up on a daily basis. And so it goes on, but all of it to ensure we have a great time. Are we excited? Well, to be honest, I have not gotten too involved with the planning, because I know I will hijack it for a two week photographic expedition. So, I am going with the flow, but it is building, with us looking at where in Tokyo we are staying the near proximity to the main high speed rail lines heading south from the main station. I spent an hour trawling through the ASDA website looking for some cheap t shirts, which I buy, all at a fiver each or less.
It is pretty much all done now, just have to get work over with, which for me involves two major trips, one this week to Germany and next week to Jutland, and that should be it for travel until we leave for Japan.
And I can confirm that the BBC have firmed up the date when they are coming to Chez Jelltex to film for their series on the People's History of Pop. Knowing my luck it will be broadcast when we are away, but it will be available on the BBC i player for a month, so I will get to see it. But, oddly enough, I am not nervous yet about being filmed, as I have been told there will just be two people coming. But, we shall see. All exciting stuff.
Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Monday.
Monday
So, here we are: Monday morning.
You know how all through winter and those long dark cold days and nights, you hope for some warmth in the day? Well, the first hint of spring sunshine, and we are overheating in the bed every night, just getting a broken nights sleep as we try to keep cool whilst being surrounded by slumbering cats. Soon, we will put on the summer 1 tog duvet, but not yet.
I say this as I am awake at half five, waiting for the alarm to go off, woken again by being too hot and Scully clambering back on my feet and trying to make herself comfortable.
Jools gets herself ready for work, feeds the cats and makes a coffee, whilst I stay out of the way, offering help if needed. There is bright sunshine outside, but I have to work, but can take regualr breaks in the garden when I make brews. I walk around checking on the frits and any insects that might be flying about. It is all rather wonderful, just being there in our little piece of England, so full of life and colour. And we can say that we did this.
At midday the car people deliver the hire car I am to use to drive over to Germany. Saved me going into town to collect it, but I will still have to go as it is a right hand drive car, and I need to get some headlight adaptors and a breathaliser kit. So, once the mails slow down to a trickle I go into town to the car bits and bobs suppliers. I get the items, but save the excitement of fitting the adaptors until tomorrow when the sun is shining. I hoped so anyway.
Back home in the rush hour traffic now the children have gone back to school; how easy it is to miss such events, the kids going back to school, when you don't have one yourself, it is just an irritation to us. Or to me.
Once Jools comes back, I nip out to Samphire Hoe before the light of the day fades to check on the most advanced Early Spider Orchid. I walk up and down the track looking and looking. I thought I was going mad, as I knew the location as there was a nearby clear landmark. After 20 minutes I found the rosette only to find the spike had been nipped out, either by a rabbit or by an orchid hunter. I walk back disappointed, and with the others were so far behind, it is unlikely that we will see flowering spikes by the weekend.
Once I am back home we have Scotch Eggs for dinner, followed by apple crumble and custard (sadly bought from M&S), but was delicious anyway. We are both stuffed.
Unbelievably, there are just 24 days until the great Japanese adventure begins. There are some last minute planning to do; buying clothes, booking seats together on the flight, planning our free days, looking at maps, learning how the new notebook works so photographs can be backed up on a daily basis. And so it goes on, but all of it to ensure we have a great time. Are we excited? Well, to be honest, I have not gotten too involved with the planning, because I know I will hijack it for a two week photographic expedition. So, I am going with the flow, but it is building, with us looking at where in Tokyo we are staying the near proximity to the main high speed rail lines heading south from the main station. I spent an hour trawling through the ASDA website looking for some cheap t shirts, which I buy, all at a fiver each or less.
It is pretty much all done now, just have to get work over with, which for me involves two major trips, one this week to Germany and next week to Jutland, and that should be it for travel until we leave for Japan.
And I can confirm that the BBC have firmed up the date when they are coming to Chez Jelltex to film for their series on the People's History of Pop. Knowing my luck it will be broadcast when we are away, but it will be available on the BBC i player for a month, so I will get to see it. But, oddly enough, I am not nervous yet about being filmed, as I have been told there will just be two people coming. But, we shall see. All exciting stuff.
Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Monday.
Monday
So, here we are: Monday morning.
You know how all through winter and those long dark cold days and nights, you hope for some warmth in the day? Well, the first hint of spring sunshine, and we are overheating in the bed every night, just getting a broken nights sleep as we try to keep cool whilst being surrounded by slumbering cats. Soon, we will put on the summer 1 tog duvet, but not yet.
I say this as I am awake at half five, waiting for the alarm to go off, woken again by being too hot and Scully clambering back on my feet and trying to make herself comfortable.
Jools gets herself ready for work, feeds the cats and makes a coffee, whilst I stay out of the way, offering help if needed. There is bright sunshine outside, but I have to work, but can take regualr breaks in the garden when I make brews. I walk around checking on the frits and any insects that might be flying about. It is all rather wonderful, just being there in our little piece of England, so full of life and colour. And we can say that we did this.
At midday the car people deliver the hire car I am to use to drive over to Germany. Saved me going into town to collect it, but I will still have to go as it is a right hand drive car, and I need to get some headlight adaptors and a breathaliser kit. So, once the mails slow down to a trickle I go into town to the car bits and bobs suppliers. I get the items, but save the excitement of fitting the adaptors until tomorrow when the sun is shining. I hoped so anyway.
Back home in the rush hour traffic now the children have gone back to school; how easy it is to miss such events, the kids going back to school, when you don't have one yourself, it is just an irritation to us. Or to me.
Once Jools comes back, I nip out to Samphire Hoe before the light of the day fades to check on the most advanced Early Spider Orchid. I walk up and down the track looking and looking. I thought I was going mad, as I knew the location as there was a nearby clear landmark. After 20 minutes I found the rosette only to find the spike had been nipped out, either by a rabbit or by an orchid hunter. I walk back disappointed, and with the others were so far behind, it is unlikely that we will see flowering spikes by the weekend.
Once I am back home we have Scotch Eggs for dinner, followed by apple crumble and custard (sadly bought from M&S), but was delicious anyway. We are both stuffed.
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