This year marks the 70th anniversary of the Willy’s MB – popularly known as the Jeep. The first four wheel drive vehicle that many people came into contact with through service in the forces in the Second World War, it provided the springboard for the whole 4×4 industry – particularly once the Land Rover came along in 1948. There are an awful lot of Land Rovers – nearly five million in their various flavours.

One of them is sitting on our front drive – a 2003 Freelander. Want to buy it? It seems the market for older second-hand 4x4s has died. Our car has a book price of £3200, but the best trade-in we’ve been offered is £1400 because “nobody wants ‘em”. With most 4×4 manufacturers now offering much more economical models (the latest Freelander diesel has similar mpg figures to a Ford Focus, compared with our model’s 29mpg on a good day, downhill with a following wind) and petrol at £1.35 or more per litre, people are shunning older models in favour of cheaper options.

As always, those who can not afford a new car are left to run more expensive models. Using the tax system to penalise drivers of gas-guzzling cars may seem well-and-good and is well intentioned, but it tends to penalise the poor twice over – first on the extra cost of running the car (be it an aging 4×4 or an aging saloon) and on the higher tax disc costs. In rural areas, a 4×4 is a pragmatic choice – when roads around here were effectively closed to non 4x4s by snow for more than a week earlier this year, if you wanted to get to work, school, the shops or – in our case – infirm parents who might need help at a moment’s notice, an older gas-guzzling 4×4 is vital. Our road is full of them (at least eight in a road of just 31 households).

So, what do you do? Wait for the new car fairy to wave a magic, fuel-efficient wand?

Post title inspired by this.

Tom: I was thinking about Domburg.

Me: Yes? What were you thinking about?

Tom: I was thinking about when we saw Kraak en Smaak.

Me: Well, we actually saw them in Middelburg, in the Abdijplein. But it isn’t far from Domburg.

Tom: Yes, that’s right. [pause] Abdijplein is a funny word. It’s double Dutch! Abdijplein! Heeheehee! (pronounced perfectly: ab-dye-pline)

I’ve just experienced this first hand. Contrary to the reports, some areas, particularly Folkestone, have received more than 15cm of snow. I stood in it and it was nearer 20cm and drifting.

I was supposed to have gone to Dover today and on to the Netherlands for work. Normally it takes me about 1 hour 40 minutes to get to Dover. After an hour stuck on the M20 going nowhere at the Channel Tunnel exit, I managed to get off the motorway and turned back. My round trip took me six and a quarter hours.

I can also recommend avoiding the B2063 Hospital Hill in Folkestone when it is like this. It is, um, interesting to descend when covered in thick snow and ice. The row of damaged and dented cars abandoned on the side of the road does not give confidence.

Stamford, Lincolnshire. Historic market town. Beautiful stone architecture. Lots of old buildings. Peaceful atmosphere (but then it is Monday night). So why then can’t I find a half decent looking pub that might serve a decent pie and a pint after a hard day’s work? And what idiot converted that church into a Boots and Vision Express?

We have just taken the opportunity to have a little holiday. Well, that was the plan. I had to go to Angers for an exhibition and took H and T along with me, something we have done for four out of the last five years.

After staying in Angers for a couple of nights and a (very successful) day at the exhibition, we took the car to Saint Malo, via Rennes and Dinan. We got to our hotel and wandered into the Intra Muros, had a nice meal and then, to entertain Tom, clambered up onto the city wall to head back towards the hotel. So far, so good. But it was mightily dark and I decided to carry Tom as we descended the stone steps. Hels stumbled on the last step as we went down. And then I fell down on the same step, heavily. I managed to hold on to Tom and lower him gently to the step. But I had a fair idea that I’d really hurt myself. I could tell this by the tears in my eyes and nausea, not to mention the pain.

We hobbled back to the hotel and went to bed. But, in the morning, it became quite evident that I was in agony. The evidence consisted of me yelping with pain whenever I stood up, and yelping twice as much if I put any weight on my left foot.

With guidance from the hotel receptionist, Hels took me over to the hospital. After a short wait, an x-ray revealed the tiniest chip off a bone. My reward – a French plaster cast with matching crutches and painkillers. My first damaged bone. Bugger.

We changed our homeward travel arrangements and got ourselves on the next ferry from Saint Malo to Portsmouth (we originally planned to travel to Dieppe and then back to Newhaven – but if ever you take that boat, pack a lunch as the food is utter crap). I’m hoping that my insurers will pay for the change of ferry plans and the lost night of accommodation (about four hundred quid in total).

Since then, I’ve seen umpteen medical people and been the centre of much attention. I’ve got to wear the cast for at least ten days before it is swapped for a removable boot. Which means I can’t drive, can’t put weight on it and can’t walk more than a few paces. Which will make life a little difficult, to say the least.

And, to top it all, Tom has chickenpox. Spots. Lots of them. And itchy.

Hels has got her work cut out. She’s pretty amazing.

It only took until around 7.15pm today, 2nd January, for me to say to Hels: "bloody hell, the year is flying past already!"

2009 is certainly going to be interesting, potentially dramatic and quite possibly bloody terrifying. As Gordon put it, we will all get there by the end of 2009, but it might be useful to know where "there" is.

Meanwhile, we have "reduced lighting" in our conservatory as the electricians have been (i.e. my father and brother) in preparation for the replacement of our conservatory this week. You’d think that replacing a conservatory would not be something to tackle in times of financial uncertainty, but this qualifies as a distress purchase due to the fact that water has been pouring in and it is about to collapse. It’s only costing us <cough> thousand pounds, but it does mean that we are the conservatory company’s new best friends. It will, at least, let in more light and reduce drafts – so we should be more energy efficient, at least by a small bit.

Other thrift measures in place include:

• taking a permit to saw down trees in a well-known National Forest and Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in order to get cheap fuel for our home (and to wind up passing dog-walkers/conservationists);
• thinking about laying more insulation in the loft;
• starting work on the allotment – potatoes are currently chitting on my office floor and a big box of seeds lies ready. But we need to do more digging yet and also source some poo;
• encouraging Tom to use the loo instead of nappies – he is late at making this transition, but shows no enthusiasm for it;
• installing a new, energy-efficient washing machine (another distress purchase – water flooded across the floor and the engineer scratched his chin and sucked on his teeth, just as the warranty had expired);
• enjoying days out that consist of walking with occasional added pint/coffee, or heavy use of the National Trust card;
• DartTag – £1 instead of £1.50. It’s the way ahead, and it makes a groovy BEEEEEP noise and makes the barrier go up all by itself.

Are you saving cash?

Sitting on board the Maersk Delft, waiting to depart Dover docks, passengers stare as the huge MSC Armonia glides into dock, flash bulbs glinting as passengers get the obligatory shot of the not-so-white Cliffs of Dover. As the ferry finally moves off from the quay, only a few minutes late, some wag plays Ride of the Valkyries on the entertainment system. Hmm, slightly fanciful thinking, I feel.

We’ve just got back from a few days on the Isle of Wight, of which more later.

After one particularly windy day of exploring and wandering, we arrived back at our lodging and noticed that Pedro was missing. Pedro is/was Tom’s toy donkey and was a gift from a friend. We thought hard about where we had last seen Pedro and decided that it must have been at a National Trust garden that we visited. It being the early evening, we decided it was too late to call, so I called first thing the next day (Friday). Unfortunately the garden is closed on Fridays and Saturdays (hello? why??), but I’ve been promised that someone will get back to me tomorrow.

Tom hadn’t noticed the absence of Pedro, but last night the penny finally dropped. We had tears and wailing and “where’s Pedroooooooo???”. I felt utterly awful – I do my best to keep track of Tom’s belongings, but clearly this got missed. We appeased Tom with a story that Pedro had gone to visit his donkey friends, although he saw through that and Hels explained that we’d lost him and were doing the best we could to track him down.

Today we bought a new donkey. £2.99 in Morrisons. He’s not the same, but Tom seems happy. For now.

Thank goodness it wasn’t Miffy. Now that would have been a real disaster and simply doesn’t bear thinking about.

UPDATE: I had to call the National Trust in the end. No sign of Pedro I, but it seems that Tom is already very attached to Pedro II.

A few things that I haven’t had/made time to remark upon here in the last week or so:

• my gorgeous wife had a birthday. The three of us went to London for the day and ambled around Covent Garden, Regent Street, Tate Britain and the South Bank. Tom was particularly impressed with the sculpture at the Tate, remarking that The Three Graces have bottoms “just like Mummy’s”, which is possibly the best compliment a girl could wish for.
• subsequently, my gorgeous wife went on holiday with her mum to Morocco, leaving son and husband to fend for themselves. Thanks to sitting in train stations with poorly-inked cardboard signs, we survived this ordeal and only went to the pub once.
• Hels and I completed the 20km JustWalk on Saturday in blistering (literally) heat. We were accompanied by our brother-in-law Kevin all the way round the circuit and were able to enjoy some lovely views and some splendid wild flowers. But it was bloomin’ hot and we had to work hard to keep hydrated and to avoid heat stroke. The sections of the walk in the open were particularly hard, especially the mile or so down the south-facing slope into Charlton which was on a chalk and flint track in a bit of a dip – no breeze, bright intense sun, no shade and lots of reflected light and heat from the surface. Thanks to some remarkably generous people, we have now passed our original sponsorship target of £500, for the Parkinson’s Disease Society but we still want to raise more money. What do you mean, you haven’t sponsored us yet? Go here and give now, please and thank you.
• Oh, and it’s my birthday today. I’m already enjoying my first present.

On arriving in a hotel near Geneva, one opens one’s washbag to discover that the bottle of conditioner has partly leaked. This has happened in the past when travelling and then it was a disaster of hair-pulling proportions.

However, having spent two years dealing with Tom’s “poonami” nappies, I now merely shrug and rinse it out over the bathroom sink. At least this smells quite nice.

Pilot to tower: I think we’ll go round again.

EDIT: it’s a shame that the BBC edited this – early versions online had nothing but the ambient noise of the roar of the wind and the plane spotter’s sharp intake of breath. I don’t need Huw Edwards to tell me what is happening.

This is a very well-travelled rabbit. So far, she has been to Wales, Ireland, France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany and Italy.

Here she is at the Palace of Versailles, admiring the topiary.

Yes, once again we come around to the annual grayblog end-of-the-year introspection. I know you’ve been looking forward to this for at least, oooo, twelve months?

Firstly, let’s look back and get the resolutions thing out of the way. At the end of 2006 (the archives are over there, on the right), I said I’d carry on improving the things that I had starting improving in 2006. But who has time for that? The garden isn’t finished, I haven’t done enough exercise and the writings here have become ever more sparse as the year has gone on.

So, do resolutions have any value if they are so easily broken/ignored? Comments welcome on that subject. And, given my obvious feelings on the value of resolutions, you can set as much store as you feel is appropriate in the following:

• to write here more frequently (not too hard)
• to take more exercise (we now have bikes which spend far too much time locked away)
• to keep my office in a more tidy condition (also not hard)

What else can be said about 2007? Well, at a professional level, things have generally improved through the year. I don’t think it’s a huge secret that I wasn’t terribly optimistic about the prospects for my business late in 2006 and was feeling pretty demoralized. Things have improved markedly since then and whilst it is still tough going, the light is clearly visible at the end of the tunnel and, if all goes to plan in 2008, I might be able to talk about my business and the “P-word”* in the same sentence without laughter. To a large degree, I’ve been carried along by the faith shown in me and my business by others around me – my backers and my clients. Even my bank has been supportive (although I’ve yet to ask them to dip their corporate hand into their corporate pockets for me, and hopefully won’t need to). The one person who keeps me from believing too much of what they say has been Hels, who frequently questions me and challenges me to test what I’m doing and show that things truly are going the right way. That is a good thing and has encouraged me to look hard at the business and the direction that it is going in. And I’m happy with it right now.

2007 has also seen us seriously (VERY seriously) looking at emigration to the Netherlands (or possibly just inside the Belgian border). Ultimately this plan has been shelved – we have decided to stay close to friends and family. We also can’t really afford it at this stage – if my business was making more money and we hadn’t been so crippled by not selling Hels’s flat for so long, then maybe it would have been different. Note that I say that the plan is shelved, not abandoned. It’s something that we will keep at the back of our minds and may return to in the future. And our love for Maastricht is undimmed, as you might have guessed from the number of Dutch-related del.icio.us links that I post.

The year has seen its usual bunch of travelling, this time including trips to the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, France, Italy and Poland. I didn’t get to a few destinations that I had in mind for lack of time and resources, but the opportunity is not lost, merely deferred. I do promise to stick some photos on here somewhen of some of the places that I/we have been to this year – feel free to nag me to keep to that promise. Highlights of this year’s travel for me included:

• San Pellegrino in Alpe, Italy – breath-takingly beautiful and wonderfully peaceful (although I suspect it might be busier in high season)
• Hamburg, Germany – drinking cocktails whilst standing in the rain on the morning of my birthday
• Warnemünde, Germany – bobbing about in a launch on the Warnow river with Hels and Tom
• Kanne, Belgium – getting the “I could live here – this just might work” feeling
• A12, Netherlands – driving from Gouda towards Zoetermeer and marvelling at the sodium-lamp orange mist with enormous wind turbines looming darkly out of the gloaming and wishing my camera was handy
• Tiercé, France – having possibly the best cheese board I’ve ever had or am ever likely to have in “Sarkozy’s restaurant”
• Przydworzyce, Poland – driving through the woods and seeing locals who had gathered mushrooms offering them for sale at the roadside, often only a single punnet-full

Travel plans for 2008 are subject to change, but look likely to include Germany, France, Belgium, the Netherlands (no surprise there), Switzerland (2008′s first for me – 2007′s was Poland) and Italy. Maybe Spain. And maybe Ireland and Poland. Too many places to go to, for both business and pleasure, and too little time and money to do them all.

Of course, the true highlight of 2007 has been watching Tom growing up. He is fantastic, a life-changing element of existence. He continually amazes and surprises us. It’s impossible to feel down when he’s around. I’m looking forward to more in 2008. And more of married life with Hels, but I’m going to stop on the emotional family gushing now before your keyboard gets covered in vomit.

What do I think 2008 will bring? Goodness knows. If there is one thing that I’ve learnt, it is that you can never tell what the future will bring. I think politics and the economy will both be fascinating in 2008 (and might finally push crappy nonsense “entertainment” out of the headlines a little) although the ride might be a bit bumpy. My business will increase in strength and stature. Family life should continue to be splendid, particularly as we have settled on our home here for the time-being and should have fewer disturbances to routine (famous last words). And I might knock-up a decent duck à l’orange or two.

Thanks to the regular readers who keep coming back here – I know there must be at least half a dozen of you still braving the digital elements to come here. Happy, peaceful and prosperous New Year to you all.

CFB (549 KB)

During our recent holiday in Tuscany, having spied San Pellegrino in Alpe on the map as a potentially interesting place to visit and with a sleeping child in the back of the hire car, we decided to amble our way up the steep and winding mountain roads to take a look. It’s a stunning place – a hamlet consisting of a couple of bars and restaurants for the tourists, a museum of rural life and a very old church and monastery. But, above all, it has some of the most stunning views in the high Apennines. We stopped, walked around, had lunch and ice cream, and relaxed. For me, it was one of the highlights of the holiday.

When we got back to the car, I noticed that Miffy was missing. I’m not sure if I have mentioned before that Tom has a toy Miffy to whom he is almost surgically attached. We did try to discourage this at first, but eventually it got to the stage that it was easier to let him hold Miff than to put up with the plaintive "Miffy! Miffy! Miiiiffeeeee!" when he couldn’t find her. (And you should see what it’s like when Miff has a "bath" – Tom’s face is pressed against the door as she spins at 1400rpm). This had potential disaster qualities, for whilst we now have a spare Miff (Miffy Two), we know that she’s a poor substitute for the slightly grey and battered real thing.

I thought back quickly to recall where I’d last seen Miff during our three hour sojourn in this other-worldly village. I remembered seeing her by a seat we had sat on that is just out of view in the photo above. As the tears started to roll down Tom’s cheeks, I set off at a jog to find her. Now, I’m not the fittest person in the world, but I’m not terrifically unfit either. I jogged down to the seat and found two wizened and ancient local men pondering this off-white rabbit sitting on the floor. I picked her up, turned and started back up the hill, just as my lungs were about to burst – jogging at 1525 metres (5000 feet) is not for the faint-hearted.

I drive a car that is six years old. It has an about-average mileage on the clock. We bought it eleven months ago and, since then, it has done 19,000 miles. Two weeks ago, an emissions warning light began to glow on the dashboard. A quick flick through the handbook indicated that this was an item that needed referring to a garage – a quick couple of calls to local garages (not Renault dealers) indicated that this was a problem for a Renault dealer as they have the diagnostic kit needed.

A general prod around the car also showed that a drive shaft boot needed to be replaced. So, this morning, I dropped the car at our nearest Renault dealer and asked them to service the car and give a quote for the work needed to remedy these faults.

They called me back a little while ago. They’ve identified the emissions fault (oxygen sensor) and also found two problems with the power-assisted steering (leaking pump and switch). The total bill for this work is a substantial four-figure sum and equates to 50% of the price that we paid for the car. After I’d fallen off my chair, I said I’d call them back. As you can imagine, Hels wasn’t too impressed either.

My brother is a bit of a dab-hand with cars. I asked his opinion. Apparently, the entire drive shaft shouldn’t be more than about £80 to £100. The sensor should be about the same and take only 20 minutes to fit. All-in-all, he reckons that the Renault bods think they are on to a good thing and his advice was “get it out of there and take it somewhere else”.

I’ve got to pay for the service and the work done, but otherwise I’m going to take it to the garage that my father normally uses, a garage that comes recommended with the phrase “he won’t rip you off – he tells it like it is, but he won’t rip you off”. I don’t think the same can be said of the Renault dealer.

UPDATE: I’ve just done some research. I can find a drive shaft for £105 (quoted price: £494); the oxygen sensor goes for around £50 (quoted price: £241). I haven’t found prices for the power-assisted steering components, but on this form I would expect them to be closer to £125 than the quoted price of £513. If I can’t get this work done considerably cheaper elsewhere, I’ll eat the car.

Just to keep Matt The Bakiwop happy, here is a genuine update:

• I’m working like a mad thing at the moment. I haven’t even had time to update my work weblog, which is bad. Work is generally busy in a good way, though, so things are quite good. Just don’t mention the Germans.
• We’ve been travelling a bit lately and I owe readers some photos from recent trips. So far this year we have been to Angers/Nantes, Utrecht/Maastricht/Aachen/Namur, Hamburg/Rostock and I made a solo trip to Vlaardingen/Aalsmeer. There have also been a few UK-based days out and there are some photos from those too. When time permits, I’ll upload some.
• On the domestic front, I’ve been working on developing the front garden (although progress has been in fits and starts and has stalled again lately – I need to get the footings out for the retaining wall, but time constraints and the weather both conspire against me) as well as getting the side and back gardens looking good – I’ll try and sort out photos of that too.
• I bought Hels a bike for her birthday and this has spurred me to sort out getting my bike restored after having left it in a shed for six years following the spectacular failure of the derailleur whilst bombing along the Avenue de Chartres in Chichester in 2000. Following a suggestion from Kate, I’ve taken it to Baker Street Bikes in Brighton for restoration and should get it back on Wednesday. All I’ll need then is to add a child seat for Tom and we’ll then be able to go out on family cycle trips (although bike mounts for the roof bars on the car would be good and I think I’d like to have the chance to dump the child seat so that I can get a few miles in on my own terms too).
• We’ve started doing a bit more work to the house – currently, we’re remodelling the bathroom. Not a major change, just new paint, new taps and a new shower screen. We’re also eyeing the conservatory combine harvester (shhh, don’t tell Dave), which needs some major work – we’ve spied a couple of rotten timbers, which isn’t good. Repainting of the kitchen is also scheduled in for “somewhen”.
• Tom has taken to refusing to go to sleep in the evening. We’ve just had him up for a 9.30pm snack, which he took whilst lounging in front of the telly in the living room – he has the makings of a good couch potato.
• Finally, it’s the Garden and Art Event at West Dean, near Chichester, this coming weekend. I organise it. I’m seriously hoping that the weather improves considerably between now and then.

More updates. Soon. I promise.

In case you thought I’d disappeared completely, we’ve been away in the Netherlands with no internet connection – which is a good thing, sometimes.

On our return, we appear to have been reduced to a single cat – Monty is nowhere to be seen, which is worrying. We asked a neighbour to pop round and feed them each day, which he has done superbly. Treacle is here and content, but there is no trace of Monty. He’s gone AWOL before when we’ve been away, but has usually turned up within 12 hours of our return – we’ve now been home for 14 hours and he has still to show himself. You can mark me down as “concerned”.

UPDATE: Ten hours after posting the above, Monty ambled in and demanded food with a "where the hell have you been?!" miaow. Much relief all-round, particularly as I’d already walked around Ruralville checking hedges, ditches and verges.

Hmm. Is it odd that I should read this news article and ponder what impact it might have on property prices? And I’m not sure about the Belgian idea of logging foreign number plates, as it is likely I will be driving along the roads between Maastricht and Tongeren and Lanaken complete with GB sticker.

I understand that following some of the links that I’ve posted recently on this site, people are wondering what is going on in our lives. So I’d like to clear up a few things.

• yes, we’re thinking about moving.
• no, we will not be moving for some time, at least two years.
• yes, we are looking at the Netherlands. Why? Because houses are considerably cheaper there and we want to reduce the amount of our income that we spend on our mortgage each month. In addition, a lot of my work is in the Netherlands (at least as much as is in the UK), we like it there and it was recently ranked the best industrialized nation in which to bring up a child by the UN (compared to the UK which was ranked the worst nation).
• BUT, it is not a certainty that we will move there. At the moment, we are deeply involved in research which includes:

1. working out where to live
2. deciding what we can afford
3. looking at what mortgage we could get
4. investigating employment options for Hels
5. sussing out education and childcare facilities
6. language, running a business, mortgage system, property law, tax system – everything! There are lots of hidden factors to consider.

• IF we go there, then we would rent for at least one year to test the water – and if it didn’t work out, we could move back to England or to another place.
• we are also investigating other alternatives – in every town we visit, in the UK and abroad, we always look through estate agent windows, partly out of unbridled noseyness and curiosity and partly out of serious research to see what property we could afford if we moved to that area. So far our research has shown that moving within the south east of England would not improve our lot – either we’d still have a vast mortgage or we’d be in Ramsgate.
• in any case, whatever we decide, we have a whole bunch of factors to consider. These include but are not limited to (and in no particular order):

1. Tom – particularly the environment and education/childcare
2. us – we want a nice house in a relatively green neighbourhood (i.e. not a concrete neighbourhood) with a little garden and enough room for us to not be under each other’s feet
3. work – both for me and for Hels as, without work that we enjoy and which pays reasonably, our life would be poorer in terms of quality or money or both
4. family – we are close to both sides of the family and we want to be somewhere that is relatively easy for them to access, including by public transport
5. cats – they’re important too! So no main road homes for us and always at least a little garden, even if/when we rent.

So you see that nothing is certain. Well, almost nothing. The only thing that is certain is that the current fixed rate period on our mortgage expires on 31 December 2008, which is why there is a window of opportunity for moving around that time and into early 2009 (if we move before then, we have to pay a heavy penalty to our lender when we redeem the mortgage) – and we don’t want to leave it much later than that as we want to get Tom settled in a new home before he starts school. The reason for moving is also fairly certain - we want to move in order to achieve either a reduction in our mortgage liability and/or an increase in our living space.

Even the “when” is not guaranteed. As we all know, events have a habit of overtaking one’s plans, so we have no idea what might happen over the next two years. I think the only thing that is likely to remain constant is the “why”. The “what”, “where” and even the “how” are all still to be decided.

At the moment, the mission is research. And with a life-change of this magnitude, I think anyone would agree that we need to be thorough and use all the time available to our advantage.

Ryanair. Bless ‘em. Don’t they just love to fly you to airports that they name after an attractive city that are actually located miles and miles away?

This week, they’ve announced that, instead of making Eindhoven airport their hub for the lower Rhine area (which is an airport close to a major city, handily convenient for much of central and southern Netherlands and not too far from the Ruhr conurbation – and useful for PSV supporters, I’d expect), they plan to make Weeze their hub instead.

Weeze? Where? I had to look it up on my (very good) road atlas of the lower Rhine and it took me a while to spot. The airport is so small that it isn’t even marked.

And, in true Ryanair fashion, they will call this airport Düsseldorf (Weeze). Bear in mind that it is nearly 80km away from Düsseldorf city (75 minutes by bus), is closer to Arnhem, Venlo and Den Bosch and could easily be confused with Düsseldorf Flughafen, which is actually right next door to the city.

And from which London airport will they fly to their new “Düsseldorf” base? Why, Stansted! Clearly this is aimed to directly compete with Air Berlin, one of their major competitors, which is fair enough in itself but for one thing – Air Berlin fly to Düsseldorf, the real thing. I’ll bet there will be some cheesed-off Ryanair passengers when they discover they have landed in the middle of nowhere.

Not only was Michael Heseltine in my hotel last week, but also the entire Bayern Munich football team. An odd combination. In addition, my shoes literally fell apart as I was walking around Essen. These things may or may not be related.

There will be more content here just as soon as I’ve recovered from man flu. I will use my illness as an excuse for the fact that January 2007 has seen the smallest number of posts in any month since this blog’s inception.

• Tom was one yesterday – it’s been both the longest and fastest year of my life (and Hels’s too, I think it is fair to say - and, by definition, Tom’s). We celebrated with cake, balloons and a trip to a farm. There shall be further celebrations at the weekend.
• We had snow last night. Up to six inches of the stuff is forecast to fall tonight. That should make for an interesting commute for Hels in the morning. Tom was non-plussed when I introduced him to the stuff this morning. His face simply said: "cold. wet. yuk."
• I’m in Germany at the moment for an enormous trade event. I’ve just had dinner in the hotel restaurant, which was eye-wateringly expensive. At the next table was Michael Heseltine. He was not wearing a loin cloth.
• I really need to update this site more often. Sorry.
• This site and my email (including work email) have been down for most of the day due to problems at 34SP. Apparently, the aircon failed causing the servers to overheat. I couldn’t help thinking that, on the coldest day of the winter so far, opening the window would soon solve the problem.

Official, apparently: Meerholz is the centre of the EU.

It’s that time of year again. Last year, I made five resolutions. I have made a good start on the first one, although it is a massive project and has taken much longer than anticipated, not least due to distractions of the Tom kind. The second I failed on miserably. The third hasn’t gone too badly, although it has improved of late. The fourth, well let’s not go there, shall we? – only 186 posts this year, including this one – not good enough. And the fifth one I’ve done reasonably well on – I’m certainly a lot happier on that score than I was this time last year.

So, for 2007, I’ll continue the good work where the good work has started. Beyond that, I haven’t really got that much that I feel I particularly want to resolve to do – there is plenty to keep me occupied.

2006 has been a year like none before it, entirely due to the arrival of Tom. He has, as I expected, changed life totally and for the better. In addition, we’ve had a lot of travel (I’ve been to Ireland, Netherlands, Belgium, France, Italy, Spain and Hungary this year) and there is more planned for 2007, with trips to Germany, France, Netherlands (naturally), Portugal, Poland, Ireland and Italy on the cards. 2006 has also seen us starting to make new long term plans. We’re not yet sure if they will come to fruition, but the notion of emigrating doesn’t look beyond the realms of plausibility. We’re also much closer to finally sorting out our finances, which has to be a good thing and has implications for all areas of life.

New Year’s Eve this year will be spent with friends, eating and drinking too much whilst (hopefully) Tom sleeps. Then I’ve got to wind myself back up in to work mode after an extended Christmas break – which, when I wasn’t being ill, I’ve enjoyed and was much needed, particularly as I’ve spent nearly the whole break at home with Hels and Tom, undoubtedly a good thing.

Happy New Year to all grayblog readers. Keep coming back if you like this sort of thing.

My car is officially dead. Not going anywhere. The entire rear brake system and handbrake assembly needs serious work. So, if anyone wants to buy a 1992 Peugeot 106 1.4 that can’t be driven anywhere, really cheap*, let me know.

As a result, Hels and I spent the whole of today looking for a replacement. We visited sixteen dealers. Count them. Sixteen. 16. One, followed by a six. I think my brain is about to melt.

It seems that there is a great shortage of cars that are in our price bracket. There are many that are very cheap (and, therefore, crap or knackered) and there are many that are more expensive than we can afford (and, therefore, very desirable). We only found six cars that were suitable candidates today, of which four were Renault Méganes. We’ve booked a test drive for our favourite of these for tomorrow morning, so I hope to have transport available again soon. This, undoubtedly, will be a Good Thing, although I would have been happier to have found some options that weren’t Méganes, just to broaden the choice.

But, honestly, there has to be an easier way. Anything we found on the internet was already sold, miles away or entirely unsuitable. Stuff in Autotrader also had the same problems. Ultimately, it comes down to getting out and pounding the streets to physically look at cars on the ground, which is tiring and time-consuming. What’s more, with so many types of cars (I’m not an expert by any means), it is virtually impossible to make meaningful comparisons even between two cars that appear superficially similar. Maybe we should just be like the Soviets and all have identical Ladas (well, perhaps something a little nicer than that).

* Really cheap = about £80 to £100, plus you have to organise a trailer to take it away.

EDIT: the test drive was a success. Surprisingly, it turns out that it is cheaper for me to insure the “new” car, so it will become mine, not Hels’s. I’m not in the least bit gleeful about this; not at all. Honest. I should take delivery (or, rather, drive 120 miles to get it) on Saturday.

I want to visit the Minaret of Jam. Although, as we know, the jams are revolting and there will be no pie, only honour. But there is no honour without pie.

I have a draft post sitting on the server about our last trip to the Netherlands – if you’re lucky I might finish it and include a section about our latest trip there from which we returned on Sunday night. But know this: I’m still not very keen on Amsterdam, but there is a bit of the Netherlands on which we are very keen indeed.

…I promise. In the meantime, here is the testcard a photo of Oustreham port at dawn.

I like the way that my rather knackered Nokia, struggling with the low light conditions, has produced a fine piece of pointillist art.

The Motors. Bless.

Anyway, this post comes to you from the departures lounge at Gatwick’s North Terminal. Not bad considering I should currently be sitting in some nice bar in Budapest, having arrived about two-and-a-half hours ago from Heathrow.

So you can say that it hasn’t been a great day so far. Having left home on time, dropping Tom at his childminder en route, I soon ground to a halt on the M25. I had a rotten time of it on the M25 on Monday, but this was even worse, to such an extent that I stopped the engine and sat reading for 15 minutes. Clearly, it was even less of a great day for the unfortunates in the accident at junction 10, but it meant that it was soon obvious that I was going to miss my flight. Malev have been as helpful as they can be, given that they have no later flight from Heathrow and have got me on the evening flight from Gatwick, but it has cost me £100 (although that includes a compulsory upgrade to business class due to economy being packed to the gunwhales) plus £11 for a two hour trip on the tube and train (I needed to leave my car at Heathrow as my return flight takes me there).

Which brings me to today’s idle thought. How come, as you amble along the Piccadilly Line, you pass Barons Court (no apostrophe), Earl’s Court (Earl who?) and Knightsbridge (all one word)? Any ideas why these names should be constructed differently? And is there a link between the noble places?

Anyway, more nonsense after the weekend, assuming my journey goes ok and there are no riots. In the meantime, check out the cricket and then go along to the food festival at Glynde Place this weekend.

I’m planning to travel to Budapest on Thursday. I think I need to keep an eye on the news in the meantime.

UPDATE: latest news suggests that, whilst there is a large peaceful protest near the government buildings, the violence is quite small scale and can be likened to the "poll tax riots" of the Thatcher years – in other words, mainly confined to one square. I’ve been checking carefully and my hotel is at least two kilometers away from the trouble, so I still intend to travel unless there are significant developments overnight. However, I was planning to take an evening stroll to explore the centre of Budapest, which I may now forego and put off for another occasion.

Oh dear, it seems that I’m getting a reputation in my industry for always knowing where the very best restaurants are in the towns and cities around Europe that are centres for horticulture. Well, I suppose that there are worse things to have a reputation for.

So, note to self and to others – I’d like to publicly recommend Aux Six Régals (no website) as the finest eating establishment that I know in Angers. I’ve just eaten there and to say that the experience was both sublime and good value would be an understatement. The salade périgourdine is possibly one of the best dishes I know anywhere (this isn’t a bad recipe, but not as good as the restaurant’s version).

If you’re lucky, I may come up with a few more tips for other parts of Europe (it’s not a long list really).

I’m back. I’m really busy, but I’m back.

When time permits, a post on:

• Leiden
• Arrow Jazz FM
• Kraak en Smaak
• Miffy
• Utrecht
• a David Lynch moment
• Maastricht
• Pruevenemint
• the Atomium
• Antwerpen-Zuid, and
• why EuroTunnel is doomed

A fascinating set of photographs of North Korea (albeit with slightly flawed translation of captions) via the linkbunnies. The original article has much longer captions but these are only useful if you can read Russian.

Reminds me of Fraser’s North Korea expedition.

Lough Leane, viewed from Muckross, in the evening light. Stunning.

Fording a stream on the beach at Ballinskelligs, Co. Kerry. Buying the expensive all-terrain pushchair proved to be a worthwhile investment as we explored one of the cleanest, most peaceful and beautiful beaches I think there must be in the British Isles. Mind you, I’m sure that salt water and sand do nothing for a pushchair’s longevity.

I am here – we’ve been away in Ireland for a week, mostly for me to visit clients but also for a short spot of R and R. Ireland is not noted for plentiful WiFi hotspots, so I haven’t been able to update or even browse for the last week.

If you’re very lucky, there may be photos.

I’m not sure that I follow the logic that is suggested in this news report that a speed camera in road works is not there to reduce speed but to increase revenue.

Have you ever walked on a motorway? I have. I had the misfortune to breakdown on the M27 once and had to walk about 500 yards to an SOS phone (this was in the days before mobiles). It is not a pleasant experience.

Each year, many people are killed on the hard shoulder in similar circumstances. The news article gives figures for the number of road workers killed and injured each year. I never feel any envy for the blokes putting out cones and signs when people are passing them at 80 – 90mph.

Speed limits in roadworks are there for the benefit of those people working to maintain the roads you drive on. There is a simple and effective way of reducing the danger to them and avoiding getting a speeding ticket and penalty points – SLOW DOWN. There, it’s not rocket science. Leave ten minutes earlier, check the web for roadworks information, use any of the dozen or so mobile advice services (they are free on my phone).

Incidentally, I saw a very effective use of technology recently to overcome the perceived problem of bunching and "panic braking" (which is caused only by those who think it is smart to speed up between cameras, because the speed limit only counts where you might get caught, obviously). On the roadworks on the A1(M), they have erected the cameras that read your number plate when you enter a section of road and read it again when you leave (the section of road in this case being the three miles or so that are currently being resurfaced) – and, by so doing, calculate your average speed on the section. I only saw one speeding driver (who deserved his ticket) – everyone else was observing the 50mph limit without bunching or panic braking and the traffic was moving freely – probably adding only a couple of minutes to the journey time. Perhaps this type of camera should be more widely used instead of the familiar Gatso.

Rant over.

Two items of food-related news (I don’t post anything like enough food news items here):

• world’s most expensive sandwich goes on sale. I like the sound of this. Of course, it’s a splendid publicity stunt and well done to Selfridges for coming up with it, but I would like one. Or two.
• we’ve just booked to go to Preuvenemint, (one of?) the largest food fairs in the Netherlands. This strikes me as an excellent plan – food and Maastricht in one go – hurrah! Sadly, we can’t find a decent hotel in the city – it seems that they are either all booked up or have trebled their prices in anticipation of the crowds (or both) – so we’re staying at a lovely auberge across the border in Belgium.

Travel blogging – written over a period of 8 days and completed on Friday using Cal’s marvellous Noted application – so much more refined than your crappy old Notepad.

Airport ranting! Why do I always ended up seated in departures next to someone who has clearly never caught a plane before?
Him: Oooo, look – they still haven’t put a departure gate up.
Her: No, not yet.
Him: It’s only three days until boarding time. You’d think that they would have it up by now.
Her: Mmmm, yes. There are still a whole bunch of flights above ours on the screen that don’t have gates yet.
Him: Maybe they’re still cleaning the loos.
Her: Mmmmm.
Him: Or the plane hasn’t arrived. I bet that’s it. The plane hasn’t arrived.
Me: SHUT UP!

Reasons why I prefer flying BA from Gatwick:
- they fly from the North Terminal, which is vastly superior and not filled with plebs.
- they give you a better quality seat on the plane.
- you can check in electronically without the need to queue.
- you can choose your own seat without a rugby scrum.
- they give you tea and a sandwich.
So why am I flying EasyJet from South Terminal today, complete with rugby scrum, plebs, crap seats, check-in queue and surcharged tea and sandwiches? Because they’re a darned sight less expensive on this route.

Oh for the love of all that is good in the world, they’re playing Mull of Kintyre of the chuffing PA system and the bloke next to me is singing along. And, no, I don’t care if he looks over my shoulder.

Anyway, I’m off to Venice. Sounds romantic? Not a bit of it. I’m flying slum class into Marco Polo before getting a taxi to Padua, arriving late at night, sleeping over in the hotel and then spending all of tomorrow at a trade show in a less-than-glamorous conference centre, before getting another taxi back in the darkness to Venice and the late slum-class flight to Gatwick, arriving just in time to do the midnight nappy.
Still, it’s the first time I’ve done this event, part of my effort to make up for missing Europe’s biggest show which was straight after the arrival of Tom. So, hopefully, I’ll do some useful business.

Time to board.
EIGHT DAYS LATER:

Well, Padua certainly was worthwhile, if only to get up to speed with the politics of my industry. One of the problems with working in such a small industry (there are no more than twenty businesses doing what I do in the world, half of which are one-man/woman businesses [actually, they're almost all men], and seven or eight of whom are in alliance with each other, including some of the companies that I work with) is that there are almost alwys some political issues to be dealt with. In Padua, I discovered that one of my competitors has been rather over-stepping the mark with regard to one of the products that I manage and then sought to get my permission to do what he was already doing. As I’m generally inclined to work directly rather than through local sub-agents whenever I can, the answer was pretty much always going to be “no” anyway, as one of my other competitors who happened to be there at the same time already knew. But the fact that this guy had already gone where he knew he shouldn’t have already made me less inclined to hear him out. He got a firm “no, no, no” from me. There isn’t anything that he is doing that I can’t do myself, making more money for me and for my breeder clients, but it leaves a messy issue to resolve and a bunch of confused grower clients. (This probably means nothing to most people, but there you go).

As you’ve already seen, I managed to get a brief hour (or just an hour, as hours are neither brief nor long – they’re just hours, sixty minutes) to wander from the convention centre into the city centre in Padua. The outskirts of the city are downright ugly and belie the beauty of the city centre. Certainly, when approached from Venice, all you see are industrial units and smokestacks. Mind you, as you fly into Venice, all you see from the plane is an oil depot – you’d think that someone would think about these things.

The flight home was marked by one of the longest queues for security that I’ve ever endured at an airport; the realisation that whilst Venice airport is a gorgeous building, the catering facilities on offer after security are crap; and a full plane (cramped – another reason not to fly EasyJet) with a groin-scratching smelly Italian as a neighbour. (Let me add that I have nothing against Italians – most of them are very nice – but I don’t like smelly groin-scratchers of any nationality).

After a few days of rest and catch-up back home, on Wednesday of this week in bombed down to Portsmouth to get the late late sailing to Caen for a trip on to Angers for another show. Yes, more lovely surroundings in the Loire valley, viewed from the inside of a conference centre. Meh. At least this time, thanks to my late booking leaving me with only a hotel in Saumur, 30-odd miles away, I had a chance to take the back road alongside the river from the conference centre to my bed, and enjoyed the views. The exhibition itself was useful with almost nothing but good news and positive vibes, including some very flattering comments from one of the largest companies in my industry in Europe. On the downside, I have spent the show wandering around in a zombie-like state, thanks to Tom having a restless night before my departure and then a generous swell at sea on the crossing leaving me pretty much unable to sleep. Once I hit the hay last night after a pretty good meal in a Saumur brasserie, I slept solidly for some time thorugh a phone call and alarm, leaving me rushing around like mad this morning and dashing back to Caen to get the ferry with only minutes to spare. Thank goodness that Hels called me when she did this morning.

The ferry back is only a little less rough, but I’ve managed to locate a power socket so that I can listen to some music and complete this long boring rambling post for you. I only do it because I love you, dear readers! Count yourselves, um, lucky.

Hula girl. 
Originally uploaded by graybo.

I’ve just been to an exhibition in Padua. Here, a company selling plastic garden pools had a stand consisting of one representative, a desk, a sample plastic pool and, bizarrely, a mannequin dressed as a hula girl. No, I don’t know why either.

Olives. 
Originally uploaded by graybo.

You’ve read articles about Italian olive farmers claiming EU subsidies for groves that have already been grubbed up. What you may not know is that there is a whole industry dedicated to putting these ancient trees into very small pots and then selling them at hugely inflated prices to idiotic northern Europeans like you and me. So it’s a win-win for the olive farmer.

Yay! Travel blogging! This time aboard the Stena Discovery, the world’s largest high speed ferry. Today it is notable for being the largest nearly empty high speed ferry, carrying probably not more than forty cars.
I’ve forked out the not unreasonable sum of £11 each way to use the business lounge facilities, with magazines, endless free tea and coffee, extremely comfy seats, power points for laptops (Dutch-style sockets, power adaptor fans!) and, best of all, no children. I’m not sure that I should say that last bit, what with becoming a dad in a few short weeks, but when travelling for work, I like a bit of peace and quiet. Of course, once I’m travelling en famille, then things will be different, I’m sure, and I’ll be frequenting the brightly-coloured kiddies’ area of the ship. One thing that they could do to improve things is to offer WiFi in the lounge – having use of my laptop is great, but having no access to the wacky world wide webnet is a major drawback when so much of my business is conducted by email.
The purpose of this journey is a whistle-stop tour of Dutch clients, existing and potential, just to touch base before I disappear from the scene for a while during the last few weeks of the pregnancy and during my paternity leave. I’m entitled to take two weeks paternity leave and the government gives my company £105 per week towards my pay for those two weeks. As usual with this sort of thing, there is quite a lot of paperwork to complete. Sometime in the next ten days, I must serve a notice on myself notifying myself that I intend to take paternity leave and ensuring that I know that I must pay myself for that time. Then I must tell the Revenue that I’ve served that notice on myself so that they know that I’m going to pay myself for paternity leave and claim that money back against taxes that I’ve deducted from myself. But if the company can get £210 free cash, I don’t mind taking twenty minutes out to fill a few forms.
Woo! Yay! Free snacks! A nice young man has just brought a tray of crudités along with a voucher for a free drink in the restaurant – clearly a sprat to catch a mackerel, but all good stuff for my cunning money-saving plan to survive the trip without actually paying for any nourishment (free drinks, free fruits, free nibbles so far – it’s all going to plan). Oooh! Internet At Sea – wi-fi, hurrah! But boo! It doesn’t work due to "technical problems".
(And before anyone says, I know that these things aren’t free – I’ve paid £11 each way for them – but they are "free at the point of delivery" as HMG would say).
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the Netherlands – this trip will involve visits to places in order of increasing difficulty to spell, starting with Lisse, Hillegom, Hazerswoude Dorp and finishing with ‘s-Hertogenbosch – a place so difficult to spell and say (remember that the Dutch add phlegm to everything) that even the locals shorten it to simply Den Bosch. My business is coming up on its third birthday (February 12th, birthday cake fans!) and in that time I’ve got a much better handle on the whole European market, particularly the notoriously difficult Dutch section – having done my corporate Christmas cards this weekend, I know that I’ve sent more cards to the Netherlands than any other overseas destination.
Occasionally, one of you asks how things are progressing with the business (although it is very occasional these days – feedback has definitely fallen off, as have overall readership numbers, since my posting habits became more sporadic). I’m definitely working much harder these days (hence the lack of time for slacking blogging) although the money is far from flooding in. The problem with working as a plant breeders’ agent is that, if a breeder comes to me with a new plant today, it might be three to five years before I (and the breeder) earn any money from it. Consequently, some of the very first varieties that I started working with are now beginning to bear fruit – one in particular is really beginning to take off worldwide, and will probably become the most popular variety of its type (and credit for that goes to the breeder, not to me – I just facilitate, but I can facilitate as much as I like and not get anywhere if the variety isn’t up to much). But the revenue streams from these varieties are not enough yet to really turn the tide – they do, however, hold out promise that things are improving. If only the general economic situation and market conditions were better – that would definitely help.
But don’t panic. I’m not about to disappear without financial trace just yet.
I’m just seeing what all the fuss is about with this here ferry – for the last 50 minutes, we’ve been trundling along at fairly sedate standard ferry speed. We’ve now got out into open water and they’ve just opened up the throttles on the gas turbines. Now we’re motoring! When the ferry left Harwich, the lifeboat was sailing out of the harbour – we’ve just overtaken it, going considerably faster. Mind you, there’s a massive wake and I wonder how envirnmentally friendly this all is. H and I have been looking at our carbon quotas – we’re almost certainly polluting more than we should, the product of not being very good at turning electrical equipment off (instead of to standby), taking far too many short-haul flights, living in a rural area so using our cars constantly, having fairly inadequate insulation on our home and so on – and so I’m a little more conscious of this sort of thing. Whilst my crossing of the North Sea today probably produces lest carbon emissions than flying, the fact I had to drive for two and half hours to get to the ferry probably negates a lot of the benefit (not train connection could get me to Harwich in time for the sailing, besides I need the car in the Netherlands). As with all things, there is no simple answer.
Actually, the thought that occurs to me is that you could wipe the floor with the discount airlines on this route by using ekranoplans – both fast (as fast as an airliner) and environmentally friendly (or at least less damaging than aircraft). Now that would be fun!
We’re now approaching Hoek van Holland – there are dozens of ships at anchor as we approach the port. I’ve taken a picture of the view along the wake which I’ll add later. A stroll around the ship reveals bored passengers with glazed stares before TV screens blaring classic Eric and Ernie, children parked behind screens showing Tom and Jerry (a few seconds confirms the episode as Ol’ Rocking Chair Tom – yes, I’m a 40s cartoon anorak).
Time to power down and see what bits of the Netherlands are open during Sintaklaus.

Have you been following Fraser’s tale of his trip to North Korea? No? Well, nor had I, but on one of my all too infrequent trips to his site I caught up with the whole story. Recommended reading.

Are you a London Underground anorak? Would you like to be? In either case, all you need to know can be found at District Dave’s Underground Site, including exciting updates on the installation of runback protection equipment.
If you are not an anorak, nor aspire to be, then I recommend rushing over to Scary’s site for a quick game of Mornington Crescent.

To make up for the lack of airport blogging (due mainly to my tardiness in getting to the airport on both the outward and return legs of the journey, thereby depriving you of an interesting commentary on the new Pier 6 of Gatwick’s North Terminal – which is gorgeous, by the way – or a long ramble about the flight out which was one of the most turbulent I’ve ever experienced and has left me with a rather stiff neck), I’ve culled a few interesting snippets from the news:

• Doctors should be bold and honest with patients and tell them about the "lack of benefit" from homeopathy, says an article in The Lancet. Astonishly, the best response the homeopaths can come up with is
  It has been established beyond doubt and accepted by many researchers, that the placebo-controlled randomised controlled trial is not a fitting research tool with which to test homeopathy.

  Say again? What they mean to say is "we refuse to accept scientific means of testing the efficacy of the treatments we promote as being valid". If their methods do not stand up to rigorous testing, then they have no validity or purpose. Period.

• Meanwhile, the latest installment of this website’s occasional Mad Despot Watch reveals that our old friend President Niyazov of Turkmenistan has banned lip-synching in his country. Dear old Turkmenbashi wants to protect Turkmen culture from "negative influences". Personally, I think we’ve just found the best person for the job of producer for Top Of The Pops.

I’m off to the Netherlands this afternoon to visit a trade show in Boskoop tomorrow. I’ve got a few meetings lined up with the great and good of European and American horticulture – a real encouragement to find that, after two and a half years of doing this, the biggest companies now make a point of talking to me at these events to see what I have to offer them. When I started out it was more a case of me banging on their doors and saying "hey! talk to me!"
My mum is coming over to keep H company. H is worried about being on her own whilst 18 weeks pregnant. I’m not sure that there is really anything to worry about, as the pregnancy has been running smoothly of late (just the usual tiredness to contend with and the fact that none of Hels’s clothes fit anymore), but if it reassures H then it’s fine by me.
Maybe H needs practical help looking after the cats. We’re cat-sitting for the in-laws at the moment, and it isn’t something that I plan to repeat as she (Kitty, the in-laws’ cat) persistently picks fights with Monty and Treacle who are so soft and mild-mannered that they don’t know what to do (other than be frightened).
I really should mow the lawn before I head to the airport. Nah, it can wait.

More exciting blog entries soon, kids! Blimey, this is getting boring, isn’t it? perhaps it’s time for another one of those long airport rambles?

When we were in the Netherands and Belgium in June, we stopped at a motorway services near Brussels. There we found that the closest parking to the entrance was not reserved for disabled or even for mother-and-baby parking. Instead, it was marked with this sign:

Naturally, we used the space.

You know, I’m half-tempted to have a go at this. Problem is that I have to be in the Netherlands at the end of the last week in August. But it could be fun to do.

St Paul’s Cathedral, with a heavy dark shower cloud looming behind.

I took this picture, then we quickly dashed for cover before the heavens opened.

Newly restored. And rather lovely.

Hels on the walls of the Chateau d’Angers.

Honfleur harbour.

For Lord Percy – a bunch of seagulls on the harbour wall at Honfleur, all facing the same way save for one that is facing the other way and appears to have no head. Raawwk!

We’re back after a day in Angers and two days in Honfleur, a change being as good as a rest.
When we got home in the small hours of the morning, I picked my way up the lanes of Ruralville with around two inches of snow on the ground, heavy snow falling, my wife asleep in the passenger seat and two kittens in the carrier in the back – a combination of things that tends to make you drive with care.
This morning, I had to travel up to Nearbyton in order to visit the local council. The snow was hanging on the trees and looked absolutely stunning. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera with me and now a combination of warmer temperatures and strong wind has rather spoiled the effect – but it was good whilst it lasted.
Busy busy this week, so expect quiet.

…I’m off to France. see you next week.

Travel rantings. Switch off now.

German trains. Teutonic efficiency? Pah! I’ve just travelled from Essen Hbf to Düsseldorf Flughaven. The train was incredibly crowded (with accomodation of the sort perfected under the Final Solution) and stiflingly hot. When it got to the Flughaven station (I could tell we were there as my face was pressed against the glass of the door), the door wouldn’t open, in spite of passengers both inside and out pressing all the buttons, and even trying to pull the doors apart using the handles. In the UK, if a train has a faulty door, it gets withdrawn from service. Apparently that isn’t the case in Germany. And there was no way through the carriage to the next door as everyone was jammed shoulder to shoulder and I had two heavy bags.
So, on to Düsseldorf Hbf. And here I found another failing of the German rail system – no platform staff with whom to remonstrate! I’d built up my remonstration powers to their maximum level by the time we got there, yet there was nobody upon whom to let rip in best English shout-point-wave-arms stylee. Most disappointing – I needed the catharsis.

So the next time that someone tells you that the railways are better on the continent, they are clearly talking out of their funny-shaped Bavarian hat.

I’ve spent a very large chunk of my day sorting out work politics, being told by a client that I’m breaking the law (true) and generally battling with unpleasantness. It’s left me with a situation for which there is no suitable solution which I can implement that will leave everyone happy. Unfortunately, it’s the result of a situation that I inherited and did not create – I guess that is a consolation of sorts, but it means my reputation is not enhanced, I’m frustrated by it, I’m powerless to do much about it and my clients feel slightly upset about the whole thing.
If anyone tells you that working with plants is a relaxing and enjoyable occupation, they’re simply wrong or at least very misguided.
Meanwhile, I’ve got to prepare for Europe’s biggest trade show which is in Germany this week – I’m flying out tomorrow evening and returning on Friday evening. It’s a mammoth event spread over twelve exhibition halls and will be totally gruelling, particularly as I’m travelling on my own this year and will not have my German-speaking friend with me. The only highlight is that I hope to have dinner on Thursday evening with my friends from Schwäbisch Gmünd.

I’ve just signed up for BTOpenZone WiFi roaming. The question is, if I’m off in some far-flung place and need to find a hotspot, how do I do it? I’ve looked at the online directories and signed up for Hotspot Hotel which seems to be one of the best. However, that’s no good to me if I’m in Amsterdam and haven’t a clue where my nearest hotspot is so that I can log in and look up hotspots!
What I really need is a hotspot directory that I can access from my mobile phone. I’ve seen a few American ones and BT Openzone run a SMS-based service that covers their hotspots in the UK. Has anyone got any recommendations for international SMS or WAP-based directories?

On the main church in Taormina, right at the top of the façade, there is a skull and crossbones. Catholic pirates?

Three blokes on a park bench in Catania:

The guy in the striped top seemed to be smiling and laughing all the time, whilst the chap in the checked trousers next to him seemed to be perpetually grumpy (we sat nearby for about 45 minutes, enjoying the last few minutes of our honeymoon, so got a good idea of what was going on between these people). I think that Checked Trouser’s grumpiness was a product of the fact that Striped Top had a big bag of chestnuts that he kept cracking open on the back of the bench and eating, and not sharing with his neighbour.

From the honeymoon – Mount Etna erupting.

We decided that close inspection of the crater probably wasn’t called for.

From the wedding – Lord Percy and Peet ham it up.

The full effect of the red wine was setting in by this point. (Photo courtesy of Mrs Peet).

…the water’s lovely.

Alternative caption: Hels’s poor hearing meant that she was oblivious to the horns of the supertanker as it ran her down.

• I think I have the beginnings of a cold – sore throat and general lacklustre status.
• Yesterday, we bought a car – a 2000 silver Peugeot 306. If I’m lucky, I may get to drive it once a month – for me, it’ll be the handmedown 1992 Peugeot 106. Seriously, I think we got a good deal, having spent most of Saturday and a large part of Sunday morning trawling through used car dealers (limited choice, some expensive), used car supermarkets (big choice, very expensive) and the small-ads (good choice if you don’t mind travelling, and sometimes good value, but no warranty, servicing or extras). The car we have chosen comes to us from a small dealer and has actually been used by his fiancée – he had the V5 to show it has been in her name for quite a while. Only one previous owner, a very low mileage, brand new MOT and a service history at a Peugeot main dealer. He’s also getting a minor bump on the back bumper fixed and getting a new service at the dealer before we take delivery of the car this weekend.
• Amsterdam was its usual hectic and mildly aggressive self. I can’t recommend the Botel floating hotel – although the location is great (right by Amsterdam Centraal station), the thin walls and ceilings mean the rooms are noisy. It was also particularly cold. However, flying EUJet from Kent International is a good thing – cheap and cheerful, yes, but cheaper and easier than EasyJet from Gatwick, assuming you have the means to get to Manston.

UPDATE: it seems our new car is an import, so we may have problems with insurance.

Hels in Cefalú harbour.

You know, there was something about the markets in Sicily that set my pulses racing:

Off to Amsterdam for 24 hours. There will be more photos, I promise. And possibly more puns.

…and absolutely adored every minute in Sicily. Even if a few places were a bit fishy.

There will be more photos from Sicily and from the wedding. It may take me a few days to sort out, as I have a load of work to catch up on, lots to sort out with the house move, the BBC News archive to catch up on, and I’m off to Amsterdam for a flying visit at the end of the week.

I’ve just made my flight booking for my next trip to the Netherlands – a (literally) flying visit to a trade show in Amsterdam. For the first time, I’ll be flying through the rather excessively named Kent International Airport – what was once RAF Manston – using the services of the very small but very cheap EU Jet. Which will be, um, fun. I like the way that the car park is only a fiver a day, is just 100 yards from the terminal and that there appear to be only four check-in desks.
Anyone else done this route? What were your experiences?

And, to top it off, I’ll be staying in a floating hotel – the Amstel Botel – geddit?

So, P&O are closing most of their ferry routes out of Portsmouth. It’s happened before – I remember news coverage in years gone by predicting doom and gloom for Portsmouth ferry terminal, but at least some of these routes will pass to Brittany Ferries, who will now become almost the monopoly service provider, which can only mean fare increases for those of us that use Portsmouth routes. I’m not surprised by today’s announcement though – the last few times that I’ve been on the ferry from Portsmouth, it has been nothing like full.

Today, I’m spending rather a lot of my day on trains. Tunbridge Wells to Charing Cross; Charing Cross to Euston; Euston to Birmingham International – and then the same journey in reverse. The purpose of my trip is to visit GLEE, a huge trade show for the garden and leisure industries, held at the NEC. Ironically, after what has generally been a difficult season in horticulture as a result of bad weather, a weak economy and chronic overproduction in some sectors, I suspect that the last thing that most participants will be is gleeful.

So, in order to look like I’m working on the train, and to provide some light relief in the absence of my paperback (left at home in order to conserve weight in my bag), today I’ll be providing one of those fascinating "blogging-whilst-travelling" posts that I know you love. And there’ll be trouble if anyone attempts to steal my format.

Observations – some people really could use plastic surgery. There is a woman sitting opposite me with the most grotesque nose. I have to say that it isn’t helped by the sour expression on her face, as she has clearly got onto the train in a bad mood, but even so, a nose job wouldn’t do any harm. Also opposite me is another woman who really needs to eat some pies. When will young women learn that having the physique of a broom handle is about as attractive as a …errmmm.. broom handle?

Wow – lovely huge drifts of Michaelmas Daisies growing on the railway embankment between Orpington and Chislehurst – great soft clouds of mauve.

Anyway – a weekend catch-up. I spent Saturday doing not much at all, taking the opportunity whilst Hels visited friends to have an extended kip on the sofa, having ploughed my way through a thick wad of paperwork sent to us by our solicitor. I also drifted by the bookstore to get some new paperbacks (I must update the current reading and current listening entries in the sidebar). In the evening, feeling in need of a moderate level of adventure, we headed out to Masala, a reasonably new Indian restaurant in the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells. It certainly wins out over our usual preferred home of curry, the Kirthon, in terms of atmosphere – the Masala seems more lively and trendy than the Kirthon, and just a little more refined. But whilst the food was generally good, and the naan was the best we’ve ever eaten, the menu was generally lacklustre and staid. The Kirthon definitely offers a far more adventurous (and possibly authentic, although I’m no expert) selection of dishes, and their rice and sauces are of far higher quality. So, we know where we’ll be going in future.

Yesterday (Sunday), we met up with my family to go around the house that we are purchasing, enjoying a mug of tea with the couple that are selling to us. It was only the second time that we had viewed it, but it confirmed our initial feelings that it is exactly the right home for us, and that was endorsed by the family. The views are still great, the road is still very quiet and the pub is still just over the back fence. We took the opportunity to walk around the village, surveying the village hall, tiny post office (open two afternoons each week only), beautiful church with Italianate ceiling (no, really!) and, most importantly, the pub. Ticks against every item.

OK – I need to conserve laptop battery as I might need this thing at GLEE.

[later...]
Hurrah for Virgin Trains with sockets under the tables. Pity the northbound train was old stock, pre-laptop.

Well, the big news is that my first hour at GLEE was filled with phone calls to and from our solicitor and the mortgage people. Our mortgage has been approved, subject to a favourable valuation survey. We’ve also been told that we don’t need the bells and whistles survey unless the basic survey shows any cause for concern. And the solicitor has ironed out a few other creases in things – it looks like everything is beginning to slot into place, although I’m holding my breath on celebrating, as there are still a few potential pitfalls yet. However, I’m pretty confdent that we won’t fall down at any of these small hurdles. I might allow myself a small port and lemon to mark the occasion.

In other news, one of my clients contacted me today with a tip-off for a potentially very exciting new breeder client for PFE in the Czech Republic. Which seems like a perfectly good excuse for a flying visit to Prague at some point. Furthermore, in spite of being able to cover the entire plant hall at the GLEE event in 2.5 hours, including coffee break and diversionary chat with Paul C at his stand in the neighbouring hall, I think I’ve picked up a small number of potential new grower clients for my charges and, more importantly, a crackingly good new breeder client in Worcestershire. Droitwich is probably not as exciting as Prague, but money is money wherever it comes from.

The bonus with finishing at GLEE early is that I’ve been able to get an earlier train, which means that I’ll be home shortly after 7 and able to relax a little this evening. The tube across London and the train from London Bridge will both, inevitably, be miserably packed, but home for dinner has to be a fair pay-off for that. And for now I can get on with some work, with an archived edition of GHC to listen to.

In general, GLEE failed totally to live up to its name. Growers there were in two camps – the "not bad considering" camp and the "sorry, we can’t hide the dismal prospects for our business as our faces are so long" camp. Thankfully, most of my clients fall into the former camp and not the latter, and tough times seem to be forcing companies to look at ways of innovating in order to differentiate their offerings from those of their competitors – which is good news for an agent representing new products such as myself. It was also good to see Paul C looking very upbeat indeed – his company had paid considerably more for the stand this year so that they could have a prime position, and it seems to be paying off, with the promise of meetings with some very large potential clients as well as substantial interest and orders from smaller customers. Paul works really hard for his business, probably much harder than I do for PFE, and it looks like he is getting the rewards he deserves.

[later still...]
Note to self – the online timetables do not always tell you the whole story. If I believed everything that I was told, I’d currently be trying to fold myself into an already-packed train at London Bridge. As it is, I’ve got a table and air at Charing Cross. No doubt it will become hellish later, but for now I can feel like a smug, hardened commuter.
Having said that, I’d hate to do this every day – the blank, staring and empty faces of so many commuters, idling in brain-neutral as they grapple with the journey home, is enough to deter anyone from this way of life – and that’s just the ones who are awake. I’m glad that my work calls only for very occasional forays into The Smoke, and more time spent in the countryside – and, soon, lots of time at our lovely new home, with fields and woods all around.

It’s very good to be home again – these days, I find that I come to a point when travelling for work when all I want to do is go home. On this trip, that point came on Friday morning, but we still managed to fit in some useful and enjoyable work stuff, so it wasn’t all that bad. Highlights of this trip:

• dinner with friends of Mike on Sunday evening
• Mike fracturing his elbow whilst playing table tennis (not sure if that qualifies as a highlight!)
• exploring Münster, Bonn and Schwäbisch Gmünd – I particularly love the sound of this last town, which you pronounce as shway-bish ger-munnd
• doing lots of extremely good business
• lovely dinner with good friends, Jakob and Maria
• driving at 160kmh on the autobahn

Since getting home, our attention has turned to exciting mortgage paperwork, exciting bank paperwork and exciting solicitor paperwork. But we took the time yesterday to go for a walk followed by an enormous Sunday lunch, which is how things should be.

I’ve driven nearly 900 miles in the last four days – from Tunbridge Wells to Chichester and back, to Calais and back to procure the vino for the wedding reception (there is plenty and it is good, rest assured) and then to Holmes Chapel in Cheshire and back for the Four Oaks trade show. I trundled up and down the M6 Toll (waving to Brian as I went past his neck of the woods), observing that travelling at 75 or 80 mph consigns you to the slow lane, even though the limit is 70mph. If there were cameras at the same frequency as there are on the M25, the local constabulary could net thousands every day. And judging by the frequency of big rubber stripes on the tarmac, there would be justification for installing them.
I’m sure that there are lots of other utterly fascinating things I could tell you, but I can’t be bothered. But here are a few bullet-point observations:

• aren’t the streetlamps at Cité de l’Europe in Calais cool?
• I’ve had a filthy cold for the last few days. I seem to have given it to Hels.
• I love Jodrell Bank. I like the way that every time you drive past, the telescope is pointing a different direction.
• House sales and purchase seem to be progressing ok, although I’m being buried under requests for papers that I don’t possess. Thankfully, my solicitor seems to be on the case.
• If ever you are looking for a hotel in Cheshire, do not book the Saxon Cross in Sandbach. It’s crap – grubby in the extreme, with pathetic showers and mediocre service. Why do we do cheap hotels so badly in the UK compared to our continental cousins? (Not that I consider £50 PLUS extra for breakfast to be cheap!)

I’m pooped.

[written yesterday at the airport]

There’s something about being in airports, even the more cosmopolitan variants such as Schiphol, that makes you feel like you are suddenly a character in Rocko’s Modern Life. As I fought my way through the aisles of the shop in the departures lounge, surveying the endless rows of over-priced tat in a half-hearted and ultimately futile attempt to find a small gift for H (cow-shaped photo frame, anyone?), a clearly over-enthusiastic floor-sweeper operator patrolled across the store in an excessively frenetic and slightly crazed manner, literally sweeping all (including magazines, postcards, stray luggage and unattended children) before him. Meanwhile, a grotesquely overweight American, complete with shockingly pink navel glaring out through an opening in an over-stretched mid blue nylon shirt, ambles vacantly with an air of the lost (in every sense of the word). On the travelator, a tattooed Dutchman speaks rapidly to a girlfriend via his mobile phone whilst walking at full speed against the direction of the belt – perhaps some bizarre form of exercise for exhibitionists.
At gate D8, waiting for the flight to LGW, all one can hear is the monotonous, rapidly-repeated refrain of "Mind your step", delivered in a delicately accented female voice to travellers reaching the end of the moving walkway. A group of teenagers run for the end of the walkway, hoping to reach some sort of terminal velocity at the point where the walkway folds back under itself and they are catapulted onto the shiny tiled airport floor.

"Mr O’Toole, please report to airport information. Mr O’Toole, please report to airport information." Isn’t that one of those coded announcements, informing staff of a suspect package?

Evening sun is glowing across the aircraft on the apron as incredibly dark clouds loom over distant Amsterdam city centre. It’s been an incredibly foul day, with torrential rain, lots of standing water and slow-moving traffic on the A4. The sky promises a rough flight home. I ponder whether to go and get a copy of Wallpaper* Navigator, the new travel sub-brand of my favourite magazine that I’ve only just noticed (I tend not to browse magazine shelves at home, as the special subscriber edition of Wallpaper* is delivered to my home each month), but I feel that €10.99 is rather a lot for a magazine that costs £3.99 at home.

This has been a useful trip, with considerable amounts of knowledge gained, a few new contacts made and several old contacts refreshed. But I forget just how exhausting trade shows are to attend – an eight hour day yesterday of trudging the aisles, constant talking and vain attempts to absorb all of the information that is being presented to me; today, a 10am meeting (at least a civil hour at which to begin the day) followed by another four hours of aisle trudging, etc.

At the back of my mind are thoughts about our impending house-hunting and move. My travels here have been punctuated by several phone calls (including a very long one from the Gatwick departure lounge) to mortgage people, estate agents and Hels, all on that theme. Somehow, in spite of all the distractions around us, this weekend we must focus our attention on finding the right home in which to begin our married life – possibly the biggest decision we will make during our thirties (aside from the actual decision to marry, of course!). We have three candidate properties to view – two in need of significant refurbishment and one that has been recently refurbished but is in the middle of nowhere. The middle of nowhere option is the most appealing to us both at the moment – the property details are encouraging, the pictures of the property are encouraging, the location is encouraging and the price is encouraging. We have two properties sold. We have mortgage agreed. The pieces may, finally, be fitting together. But celebrations will be withheld until we have the keys in our hands.

Do Japanese tourists really shout a lot and take photographs of everything, or is it a popular myth? There is a group here that is doing nothing to dispel the untruth, if that is what it is. Oh oh, I’m getting grumpy.
Oh my god. There are dozens of them! Enough to half-fill the aircraft. Gah. AND I’ve run out of Maynards’ Wine Pastilles. This flight could last a lot longer than the scheduled hour. And nothing to read besides an EC Directive, as I arrived sufficiently early to demolish the entire Indy already.

And I’m sure I passed H’s local vicar by the tat shop.

I’m off to the Netherlands later today, and will be back on Friday evening. So expect some quiet in the meantime, although, if you’re lucky, you might get one of those rambling airport-based posts. I should also be able to connect from my hotel, so there is the prospect of some brief entries.
The reason for my trip this time is to attend the Plantarium trade event in Boskoop. I have three or four meetings lined up, all but one of which I am looking forward to (the one I am not looking forward to involves sorting out some political issues, something that I never enjoy doing), and one of my plants has been entered in the Best New Plant Competition, so fingers crossed for that.
We’ve got a packed weekend in store too. On Saturday morning, we plan to view three properties. In the afternoon, Hels has a medical appointment that she is not looking forward to. On Sunday we shall be with the in-laws-to-be. Monday will involve some time in the office and picking Mum up for Tuesday’s booze-cruise to Calais to get the wines for the wedding reception. Wednesday and Thursday features a trip to a trade show in Cheshire, Friday an overdue haircut, Saturday packing for a week-long trip to Germany and Sunday flying to Hamburg.
Actually, it may be quiet here for some time to come!

I will post a lengthy post about my travels here, but not now as connection is costly and slow. Wait until next week, ok?
Meanwhile – Greece – who’d have thought it?

Today, I shall be driving with (PFE-supporter and friend) Mike to Rotterdam, via Le Shuttle. We’re undertaking a week-long tour of the Netherlands and Belgium to visit a whole host of plant growers, propagators and breeders’ agents. It’ll be hard work and tiring, but hopefully we will get a little downtime in as well – Mike and I usually try to get to a few decent restaurants on these trips, as well as a sight or two if there is time (recent conquests include Essen cathedral treasury and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam).

So, expect quiet here this week. I’ll have my laptop with me, so infrequent updates should be possible – just don’t expect much rambling, nor any long-winded airport monologues. Monologuing is hard to do when driving.

Time for one of those overseas blogging monologues. I know how much you all love them (go on! tell me how much you love them!).

I’ve just boarded a train from Angers St Laud to Paris Montparnasse, my first experience of the TGV. The train is reasonably busy, perhaps 75% full, but there is only one stop between here and Paris, at Le Mans. It’s reasonably spacious, and the lack of bulky headrests means that it is easy to peoplewatch – the girl to my right who is trying to sleep whilst wedging her enormous black handbag against the back of the seat in front of her, the bloke to my left who is sitting in the window seat that I reserved (I’m not sufficiently confident in my French to remonstrate with him, and besides, it’s easier to get up for the loo or the buffet from here – and I can still see the world zipping by), the young infant in his carrychair a few seats towards the back of the train who is cuddling his toy rabbit and quietly absorbing the constant stream of information that is the world around him, whilst his twin sleeps soundly in the next seat.

Thankfully I’ve come equipped with my bag of Maynards’ Wine Pastilles and a bottle of Waitrose Still Scottish Natural Mineral Water, as this train is about half a mile long (no exaggeration), and it would probably take me fifteen minutes to walk as far as the buffet/bar. All very English of me.

The train takes corners at very high speed, with the consequence that my laptop slips dangerously from one side of the little table to the other, so excuse any pauses in the narrative as I clutch hold of it to prevent it falling to the floor.

Why am I in France? Well, I’ve been here for two reasons – firstly to visit a famous and very old nursery company near Nantes, and also to attend and lend consultancy and support at a European Union Plant Variety Rights appeal hearing at the Community Plant Varieties Office in Angers. Yes, that last bit does sound exciting, doesn’t it? But, believe me, it was in fact very interesting and useful, even though we lost the appeal (we had only rated our chances of success at around 1-2% prior to the meeting, but reckon that we increased that to 20% by making a very well-argued, substantiated and convincing case during the hearing – we believe we were defeated only by a majority decision of the members of the panel rather than a unanimous one).

The "we" in this journey has been myself and David, who is a septagenarian plant breeder and fervent supporter of PFE (and the appelant), along with his wife Rosemary. As they are now travelling on for a short holiday in the upper Loire valley, I’m travelling back by train, plane and automobile (in the form of a coach) to dear old Blighty and the arms of Hels, who I have been missing like mad.

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but we have been finding these separations (this trip, Hels’s recent trip to Vienna and her forthcoming week at a conference in Florida) to be quite painful, punctuated only by long (and expensive) phone calls telling each other how much we love each other and how much we miss one another. I’ve received the odd complaint of being a bit too soft and soppy in my writings on this site recently, so I won’t go on about it too much. It may just be because our love is still very new and extremely intense and not a little fraught with the worries of trying to sell our homes, find a home together, arrange a wedding and deal with the stresses of everyday life, but it certainly makes us value our time together more than ever. The time when "home" means our home together can not come soon enough.

I’m not sure how fraught this journey will be. According to Le Figaro this morning, Paris promises to be a hellish place today as umpteen gazillion police, soldiers and special forces secure the city for George Dubya’s state visit to mark the sixtieth anniversary of D-Day. I have to get from Montparnasse to Charles de Gaulle airport (assuming it hasn’t fallen down entirely). There is a coach service from Montparnasse, but I wonder if it might be delayed. I had planned to spend a little time exploring the Montparnasse area, having never visited Paris before, but if it appears fraught, I may abandon that idea.

We’re just coming into Le Mans. Interestingly, the conductor, in his announcements, puts the emphasis on the "Le", not the "Mans". Since it appears that nobody wants this seat, I may rummage around and find my headphones for a little audio entertainment between here and Paris. I bought a very cheap (three euro) CD from a second hand store in Nantes which is very good aside from a scratch that makes the first track unplayable (hence the low price, I guess), and I still haven’t had a chance to listen to it all the way through.

Anyway, a few non-work highlights of this trip:

• the splendidly calm ferry crossing from Portsmouth to St Malo, with the moon hanging low in the sky and reflected wonderfully in the glossy water, whilst on the other side of the boat, the Isle of Wight loomed ominously in silhouette with streetlamps draped around its skirt hems and reflected in the water
• the city centre in Nantes, with its cafés and cathedral
• the castle in Angers, home of a fantastic, enormous and very old tapestry depicting the story of the Apocalypse, with amazing detail, particularly in the beasts and the horsemen, with St John looking on from a differently designed sentry box-like structure at the side of each panel, recording the scenes for the Book of Revelations
• Angers cathedral, with its massive organ (stop it!) supported above the main entrance on four huge flying buttresses, each carved to resemble a bacchanalian figure seemingly inappropriate for a place of Christian worship, but imposing and wonderful nonetheless
• the simple and beautiful chruch of Saint Laud in Angers, and much more light and welcoming building, which, when we visited, was being bedecked in flowers for a wedding to be held today

As David and Rosemary were very much in holiday mode on this trip, it allowed me more time than I would normally have for exploring my environs. Normally when I travel abroad for conferences and exhibitions, usually with David’s son Mike (also a plant breeder), there is little time for R&R, as we generally try to pack in as much work value into our time as we possibly can. Whilst I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this trip (in spite of losing the appeal hearing), a little voice at the back of my head says that I really need to get more work done (hey! I could be doing it now instead of writing this monologue, but then I do have to keep you entertained somehow).

Hmm. Time for another wine pastille.

How strange. The guards have just come through the carriage, and they seem to be inspecting all the vents for the air conditioning system, peering into them as if they expect some sort of rat or mouse to poke his head out and say "salut!" at any moment. They’ve left the carriage now, so obviously didn’t find what they were looking for, although the activity has woken up the sleeping twin into a wide-eyed coughing session.

Idle thought: do nationalists in Northern Ireland refuse to use the Orange telephone network on principle?

Idle thought 2: what is it with young oriental men and really bad facial hair?

Idle thought 3: I wonder if there’ll be a powerpoint at CDG where I can recharge my laptop, or is that a uniquely American phenomenon? Even the wonderfully well thought out Copenhagen airport doesn’t have powerpoints.

<long pause whilst transferring from TGV to CDG>

Idle thought 4: if, when in France, you dial 15 for an ambulance, 17 for the police and 18 for the fire service, what happens if you dial 16?

Well, so much for having a stroll around Montparnasse. On arrival at the station, the first thing I noticed was the large number of police and armed troops present. A quick amble about the station revealed that the left luggage lockers were closed and sealed due to the security precautions, so I decided not to bother with trying to go for an amble whilst dragging my wheelie case and carrying my laptop. Instead, I elected to board the bus for the airport directly. As the bus hurtled through the streets, we passed a long row of buses laden with police, plus vans loaded with equipment, and then had to pull over to allow a fleet of water cannon trucks to roar past, sirens on and lights flashing. So I reckon that not going for a stroll was a smart move.

It has to be said that CDG (or terminal 1 at least) is the most dismal airport I have ever been in, even more badly designed than Dallas-Fort Worth. The duty-free area is cramped an ugly. The check-in desks are cramped and ugly. The &satellites" are cramped and ugly. There is a chronic lack of seating, refreshment points, signage, colour, light and air conditioning. Infuriatingly, there is a power point next to the seat I’ve found, but I stupidly left my French/UK adaptor in the bag that I’ve checked-in, so I’ll run out of power in about 20 minutes – with at least two and a half hours to kill before the flight. Worryingly, the bmi flight before mine, to East Midlands, has been delayed until around the time that mine is due to depart due to a fault with the aircraft, and I have a sneaky feeling that they might use the plane I’m due to fly on to take those passengers, thereby delaying my flight. I’ve even run out of battery life on my camera, so I can’t play at taking silly pictures. And I have no book with me. I think I’m going to be very bored. Sigh.

Idle thought 5: at what point is the boredom level sufficiently high that your brain dissolves and seeps out of your ear?

Anyhow, time to conserve battery life by shutting down the monitor. I’ll post this on my return (though, if you’ve read this far, you know that already).

UPDATE: my flight wasn’t delayed.

To make up for my grumpiness in the preceding post, here’s a pretty picture.

The Lisboetas have a love affair with their trams. The ancient number 28 creaks its way from Martim Moniz to the Basilica da Estrela and back again, invariably packed with tourists and sporting sponsorship from Heineken or Coke. The locals are more likely to be found on the modern number 5 "bendy tram" which whizzes its way out to Belém and beyond.
But Lisbon is a city of hills, and the trams come into their own when they take the form of elevadores, trams built to match the slope of a steep hill and operating in pairs – one going down whilst the other comes up. Thankfully, the authorities seem to have taken the decision to retain the authentic yellow colouring in place of sponsorship, sullied only by a discrete logo for Carris, the public transport firm that operates them. There are three tranvias (the tram-type elevadores, as opposed to the Elevador da Santa Justa, which is a fancy lift) – this picture shows the most picturesque of the three, which operates up and down the hill in Bica. Here the tourists fight for seats with the elderly locals, usually weighed down with dozens of bags of shopping.
Whilst Bica is the longest and most picturesque, the most useful is the Elevador da Gloria, which links the Barrio Alto – the home of trendy bars and restuarants – with Restauradores, adjacent the main railway station and linking in to the metro. Having walked up the hill at Gloria after a very filling meal, I can vouch for the merits of travel by elevador. And only EUR1.10 each way too.

From Lisboa, in the Alfama district…

I’ve just downloaded all the Lisbon pictures onto the laptop. I need to sort them out and maybe even create a special page for you, but in the meantime, here is one selected at random:



A view over Belém from the top of the Pedrão dos Descobrimentos. From left to right: the Centro Cultural de Belém; Hels (obviously!) enjoying the sun and the view along the Rio Tejo; the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos and, in the foreground, the Praça do Império.

A few photographs from our trip to Copenhagen:

This is the view under the Knippelsbro. It just looked fantastically atmospheric that morning. In a way, all that was needed was an old Rover P5 and John Thaw, and you’d have had a scene from any one of a dozen episodes of The Sweeney. Except it would be in Denmark, obviously.

My beautiful fiancée, leaning against a pillar whilst I faff around taking silly pictures of nothing in particular under a bridge.

Very close to the Knippelsbro was this building, the Asiatisk Plads. I don’t think it was anything special, simply some offices, but to me it was supremely beautiful – the simplicity of form and design, the linear grace, even the little details of the security lighting on the outside. I’m not sure that Hels agreed with me entirely on this, but I thought it was great. We saw a whole lot of extremely well-designed buildings in Copenhagen – not fancy or gimmicky, just stylish and smart. Also, there generally wasn’t a lot of graffiti or flyposting around on the buildings to spoil the look.

Hels stirring a cup of glögg when we were in Malmö. This drink will always be in our memories of this trip, and we plan to serve it at our wedding.

Malmö – not so very different in general appearance from Copenhagen, though clearly without that capital city oomph. A view of the buildings in Drottninggatan.

Many towns and cities have a typical look for their local buildings – the more traditional ones at least. Chichester is famous for its Georgian doors – there is even a book on the subject. In Copenhagen, the norm is red brick, but there are also a large number of buildings that are rendered or painted in this lovely warm mustard yellow colour. This one was on Nyhavn.

A weekend in brief:

• Glögg was being served everywhere, and Hels and I quickly became addicted. Definitely the essential winter beverage.
• Tivoli – beautiful with its fairy lights, full of happy people, home to extortionately priced tat and site of the most bizarre animatronic Santa’s grotto you will ever see – worth the admission price for that alone.
• Degas – a highly recommended French restaurant.
• Vor Frelsers Kirke – utterly beautiful with the golden globe at the top of the spire glistening in the sun through the morning fog.
• Bastionen og Løven – home of quite possibly the best hot chocolate in the world, according to Hels anyway.
• Christiania – where Hels and I felt just a little out of place, but welcome nonetheless, at least in the little market. The drugs stalls are generally less welcoming, almost threatening – although that may be the attitude the locals adopt towards any couple that arrive dressed in smart designer clothing. Hels’s new Nepalese hat, purchased in the market, helped us to blend in.
• Charlottenborg Udstillingsbygning was one of the highlights of the weekend – a fabulous contemporary art gallery which is currently showing an exhibition entitled "From Dust to Dusk". If you like modern art and can get to see it, then I recommend that you do so. Our favourite piece (although we had several) was White Landscape by the German artist Christina Kubisch, which consisted of a large darkened room. On the floor, more than one hundred white painted speakers of differing sizes were illuminated from above by UV lamps so that they glowed in the darkness, and each gently and in turn played the sound of a tuning fork. Utterly mesmerizing.
• Strøget – shopping heaven. And like Jason, we also found lots of feet, which serve the useful purpose of making you stop walking, pause and look up and around.
• Barbar Bar was very cool. If I lived nearby, I think you’d find me there frequently.
• By train to Malmö across the Øresund Broen, which affords fabulous views across the steely grey and choppy Øresund that separates Denmark and Sweden. Malmö is every bit as beautiful as Copenhagen (or, to be more correct, København). Glögg and shopping were again high on the agenda, but not before we’d explored the Form/Design Center which was crammed full of the sort of things than any self-respecting Scandinavian interior designer would consider as must-haves, as well as David Design which was full of yet more things calling out "buy me! buy me!"
• Peder Oxe for more fine food – not just for tourists, as the guidebook suggests, but also popular with the locals, it seems.
• Nyhavn, on the other hand, truly is touristy.
• Finally and sadly, we had to leave. But leaving was made easier by virtue of the excellent trains once again, and the wonder that is Københavns Lufthavne – you can see why it has won so many awards. Without doubt the most logically and elegantly designed airport I have ever visited.

I think we’ll go again to Copenhagen. Highly recommended, though do expect it to be expensive. It isn’t necessarily the case that things in Denmark are more highly priced (although alcohol certainly is – expect around £4 for a pint or spirit+mixer), it’s just that the Danes don’t bother with cheap stuff. They clearly believe that if something is worth having or doing, then it is worth paying to have/do it right.