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These Cornish Things
In our last blog post we discussed how unseasonable the current weather is, feeling far too mild to be cusp November. After over four decades of visiting Cornwall I really should have known better, for my comeuppance arrives swiftly and with a vengeance, in the form of howling gales and unforgiving hailstorms. Walking from Rock to Polzeath is a doddle, the morning clouds banished by the strong winds which, coming from behind, propel us along the coast path at roughly twice our normal walking speed. The return walk couldn’t be more different. Just in time for reaching the part of the path furthest from shelter, those winds, now head on…
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Changing Times, Different Moods
It definitely didn’t used to be like this, not when we were kids. Growing up in the Midlands – Michaela in the West Midlands and me in Derbyshire – it was cold by now and it had been so for weeks. October got progressively colder, frosts a regular morning feature, whitened cobwebs draped like lace across rockery plants and garden shrubs, the walk to school taking place with the protection of coats, hats, scarves, gloves. Hallowe’en was a non-event, just another night in the build up to Guy Fawkes Night aka Bonfire Night, but by the time we were standing back and watching the pyrotechnics light up the night sky,…
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Mystique & Magic In Avalon
The alarm clock is sounding, dragging me out of the vivid dreams which have no doubt been triggered by the need to rise early. Funny, for most of my working life a 5:10 alarm after about five hours’ sleep was the norm for 25 years or more – now, after three years of retirement, 6:30 feels like early morning and there is a glue holding my eyelids in place. Cold water on the face, caffeine in the gut, and we’re off. We’re up and about for a reason, not only are we travelling down to our beloved Cornwall for a week, but we’re detouring en route to Glastonbury, just over…
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Borderline Ridiculous
I think it’s fair to say that my relationship with technology is an unsteady one. Machines and gadgets which work perfectly well in the hands of others quickly malfunction once I get involved. It’s not just technology either: for instance, hand driers in public toilets often don’t respond to my presence and I’ve sometimes had to ask some mystified stranger to put his hands under the sensor in order to get the damn thing to work. Touch screens, even at cashpoints, are unpredictable, iphones and ipads pass into mysterious phases which only Michaela can dispel, and when I was working, my ability to bring any machine or IT gadget to…
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Concluding Rome & Heading Home
The sun continues to shine from cloudless skies – as we enter the second half of October and near the end of this short Italian sojourn, temperatures of up to 29 degrees surprise and delight us. We had hoped for sunshine but this warmth has been a big bonus, so perfect for exploring the two wonderful cities of Bologna and Rome. Tucked into the tight streets between the Trevi fountain and Piazza Navona, The Pantheon is a remarkable and beautiful building, boasting the widest masonry dome in Europe which in turn houses the oculus through which sunlight cascades in spectacular shafts. The whole place is fabulous. The walls are adorned…
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Stories And Histories: More Days In Rome
On our previous travels we have visited the Jewish quarter of Kazimierz in Krakow and walked through the chilling and horrific histories at Auschwitz and Birkenau, wandered through the former ghettoes of Venice, Thessaloniki and others, visited Jewish museums in several cities as well as Ann Frank’s House in Amsterdam, learning again and again of the bigoted persecution of people of that faith. Even so, there is a different element to Rome’s equivalent, the former ghetto now known as Communita Ebraico, knowing that creation of this particular ghetto took place under the watchful eye and direct personal instruction of the Pope, who ensured that, as with all other ghettoes, the…
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From Bologna To The Eternal City
Our last post left us going through an unassuming unmarked doorway in amongst the restaurants of Bologna’s Quadrilatero district and entering a parlour full of evocative old photographs. Many show the famous faces of previous visitors to this strange little room: here Mohammad Ali’s autographed golden boxing glove, there Richard Nixon, then Tony Bennett, even a laughing Marilyn Monroe. This is Bologna’s oldest inn, the Osteria del Sole, where the wine has flowed since 1465 and been quaffed not only by the glitterati but also by the learned intellectuals from the university, students and professors alike. Yet the joy of “del Sole” is as much about its custom as its…
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Piazzas, Porticos & Pasta: Notes From Bologna
Bologna’s famous porticos are immediately evident even as we make our way from the railway station to our apartment close to the heart of the city – not surprising given just how far they extend through the city streets. Originally constructed from wood to provide additional display areas for shopkeepers, these attractive extensions now take on a variety of forms: sweeping brickwork arches, concrete and steel squares, segmented tunnels. Handily providing protection from both the summer sun and the winter rain, these porticos stretch improbably for nearly 25 miles around Bologna’s streets, giving it something of a unique look. Well certainly unusual even if not unique. Bologna enjoys a reputation…
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Art, Wine And Walks In Suffolk: Italy Next
After leaving Phil at the airport for his boys trip to Spain, I headed to Lowestoft in Suffolk to spend a few days with my Mum, needless to say it was a somewhat more sedate trip than Phil’s. So many trips to our English east coast have been blighted by the English weather but on this occasion I was lucky enough to have beautiful blue skies for most of the time. I always enjoy time spent with Mum and with the weather in our favour we enjoyed plenty of coastal walks and the Suffolk countryside. Art featured lots too, with Mum being an established Suffolk artist @normareadartist we spent time…
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Beer, Tapas & Champions League: Southern Spain, Buoyant Germans & A Dash Of English
Michaela drops me off at the airport and we kiss goodbye: it’s going to feel a little odd being apart for a few days having been welded together on our travels for so many months. Adrian climbs out the back of the car looking more than half asleep, but then it’s so early that it can’t reasonably expect to be called morning yet. We’re booked on a red eye flight that’ll be in the air before the birds are; Adrian came down last night as we live much nearer to Gatwick than he does. “At least with me here you can’t go to the wrong bloody airport” he grunts. We’re…
