Holiday Blog

17th May Prequel : Well this is just the warmup , dotting the "i"s and crossing the "t"s before crossing the pond to Mother England. At the current rate of packing we will be wearing i-pods and phone chargers rather than clothes. Is the laptop setup for wi-fi internet access? Has the dog got a supply of dried pig's ears whilst we are gone? Which novel to read on the plane? Where are my antiembolism stockings ? Have I submitted the correct flight plan? How many pairs of undies will I need i.e what is the exchange rate and will they be too expensive in Marks & Spencer? Ah , the adrenalin , you wouldn't swap that for anything except maybe a first class sedan chair and a bunch of seedless grapes.

Thus far we have organised a car (possibly too small but until we try to cram the suitcases in the boot & 300kg of humanflesh in seats we won't know) , accommodation and Stonehenge Centre Circle Special Access . The rest is sprouting in the garden of our imagination. Barring a flock of hungry sparrows we shall experience England in the the spring shortly.

We seek it here , we seek it there , the heart & soul of Angleterre.

Saturday 20th May

Departure – uneventful. Flight – there really isn’t much to say or indeed recommend about long distance airline flight. In fact if you’ve got something more productive or energising to get on with , avoid flying at all costs. No, there really is nothing to beat avoiding the boredom and predictability of overseas travel.

So my flight was predictably long punctuated with brief periods of almost sleep and innumerable “meals” and snacks designed to prevent meaningful sleep. I’m sure there is a video monitor on board and when the victims start to look or act sleepy a signal goes out to rouse and arouse those who would dare slumber. In my opinion it would be cheaper and more effective to poison each ticketholder with a strong sleeping potion 2 hours into the flight lasting until just before final descent. I mean , there really is nothing to do except sit and watch the map channel on the seat in front , or pick up a dodgy movie 73 minutes through , or irritate your “seat neighbours” by deciding a visit to the WC is probably your best chance for a change of scenery. Reading a book seems more like duty than pleasure. The inflight magazine is totally full of nothing but advertising matter.

Landed in Singapore & defied the trend to mingle with thousands of commuters in the terminal. Watching the free cleaning onboard show proved far more entertaining. Did my best to dissuade the polite lady from replacing my unsused blanket but to no avail.

Singapore to Frankfurt

The highlight for me was glimpsing the glow of Tehran at about 3 a.m. and watching several planes circling in the distance. Hoping that none were enemy planes with evil intent. Well at least that might have injected a frisson of excitement into the overall sense of dullness.

Frankfurt to London – utterly forgettable save for “breakfast’ – a synthetic roll filled with synthetic cheese and ham , heated in a microwave and stuck to the inside of a cellophane wrapper. How they get away with it fails me.

Heathrow – confusion over baggage collection. With a group of Aussies (mostly members of the veterans table tennis team) made our way to Terminal 2 ; turned away at passport control ; found our luggage was NOT at terminal 1 ; had to return to terminal 2 and get special permission to re-enter the baggage section ,( grumpy paranoid staff) and pick up our suitcases. Proceeded ~ 600m to terminal 3 ; found it wasn’t Marguerite’s terminal ; returned to T2 and discovered I should be at T4. Get the free T4 express train. M’s plane late 9delayed 9 hours in Melbourne) ; wait a couple of hours before reuniting.

Hmm. Bus to Hertz depot ; another long wait to get our vehicle. Somehow all the bags packed in , off down the M4 to Wiltshire arriving ~ 3pm at the aunts at White Gate House.

Hugs all round of course! It’s been 13 years after all. Cup of tea most welcome ; then off to our accommodation at Maunditt’s Park Farm. Charming bucolic situation on a working farm – less than a stones’ throw from the dairy , ducks & geese & cows everywhere. Sweeping verdant views southwards towards the Marlborough Downs. Windy and wet.

Fresh milk out of the dairy and yummy eggs too. There are several conveted farm buildings; ours used to be a calf shed and stable.
Settled in ; after tea I returned to the aunts for a show of photos & family history show on Alex’ computer. Stayed too late i.e. 11pm (= 8am Oz time). Somehow found my way home.

Monday May 21nd
Motored into Cirencester to stock up on supplies. Spent over 200 pounds in Waitrose’s. Scoffed some real Cornish pasties , scratched around and later turned up at WGH for lunch with the aunts. ~ 3pm headed south via dozens of roundabouts to Avebury c/w stone circle ; almost overwhelming in scale and meaning. Cold & windy.

Turned south to Devizes but no time to explore – pub tea and scooted off to find Stonehenge. Again , bitterly cold & windy but somehow the ambience was fitting. Stayed ¾hr in the centre of the monument , trying to snap photos whilst avoiding strangers. Many good shots though , and time to contemplate with open mouths like guppy fish at feeding time. Not a place you can understand in such a brief span.




Getting dark as we left for home. Somehow as is often the case we ended up taking the long , slow , snaky route back, in rainy and hazardous conditions. Jetlag was taking hold too. Relieved to get back @ 10pm.


Tuesday May 22nd

Poor forecast plus jetlag precluded a trip to Warwick castle. Instead Marguerite packed a picnic and we descended upon the nearby(2miles) town of Malmesbury (the oldest borough in England). Wandered around the abbey and marvelled at England’s first aviator St Eilmer the monk who in the 11th century leaped off the roof of the tower and flew 200 yards . Bit of a hero ; broke both legs but hobbled into old age. Blamed his failure on the lack of a tail…What a legend!
Lads beguiled by their first taste of true medieval architecture.

Malmesbury is/was the home of John Dyson , the vacuum cleaner mogul. He bought the house (mansion) close to our farm, but I think he’s sold it recently - for 5.9 million pounds .From dust to riches it seems.

Scoffed the picnic under the cupola of the market square cross. Headed into the local museum and then wandered west to Westernbirt Arboretum. A nice leisurely stroll through acres of mature deciduous trees and endless paths , some quite muddy! Fortunately the rain held off.

Home to a roast chicken dinner and a round of snooker on the full sized table in the top barn. How the heck they got it up the spiral staircase is beyond me.

Wed 23rd May

Slowish start to a rainy cold day. Drove to the Corinium museum at Cirencester , the old Roman capital of England. Excellent displays of Roman and Saxon history and artefacts. Cameras were constantly clicking and James had enormous fun dashing around like he owned the place. Posing in a real chainmail suit was for him a highlight.

Finally , a museum which kids don’t find boring! Splendid stuff eh what!

After coffee we sauntered into Cirencester church , all 16th century and all. Again , much see and woder at , and of course photograph. James was happy to discover the zoom function so he could capture the bosses and crosses up high. The abbey garden was wet , green and very mossy with a 10ft drystone wall sheltering us from the wind. Still , a steady drizzle fell on the crumbling gravestones and , our unprotected heads. Time to move on!

The next turn took us the long narrow serpentine route to Chedworth Roman Villa via tunnels of golden green and tiny villages held together by memories of the past. Momentarily stopped by a posse of shaggy excitable sheep being herded by hounds, we arrived at the villa around 2pm. Set at the head of a beautifully secluded valley, the ruins included latrines , a kitchen , several baths (hot , cold , medium and everything in between) , a dining room , the eternal springs and sundry other fireplaces and flues. All set amidst dripping trees and fine dewy lawns, the sound of a cuckoo echoing from the forest. Not a bad spot to live if you had the chance and the servants to heat your bath.

Left via the ubiquitous gift shop where James added to his collection of decorative rings whilst we resisted the lure of tawdry baubles. The book collection was fairly inviting but I was mindful of our baggage limits. Sensible me!

Returned along the by now drying and steaming lanes to Cirencester and by the circuitous back route to White Gate House. Luke photographed a bunch of old ancestors living in a dusty box. And I don’t mean the aunts…who invited us to stay for dinner. Pizza and roast potatoes all round and there was much merriment as James regaled them with “The Ballad Of Bilbo Baggins” several times.

Thursday 24th May


Finally! A sunny day , well a bit cloudy at times but the best day weatherwise thus far. Gathered everything up after a good kettlebell session and headed up the Fosseway (old Roman road) to Warwick castle. Mile upon mile of green fields and stone walls giving way as we left the Cotswolds to hawthorn hedgerows. Moreton-on-the-Marsh seemed a nice village to pass through ; rows of Georgian sandstone shops line a broad main street no doubt hosting a large market at times. We kept going to the castle where it was a moderately busy day , tourist-wise. Everyone was pretty goggle-eyed and shutter-happy as we tried to absorb the incredible breadth of history on offer – from medieval through to Edwardian times. Favourites included the armoury (smith , armourer , bowyer) and the great hall replete with the finest array of “silverware”(armour) you could imagine. Huge fireplace , huge liveried horses , immense chandelier and a dining table that would seat at least 50. The surrounding rooms were variations of living areas , mostly concentrated on the Georgian to Victorian period. Wonderful views down to the muddy churning river below , and fields beyond , as far as the eye could stretch.

The display of arms and armoury was much admired ; grenade launchers , a musket at least 8 foot long , broadswords and maces , a Scottish claymore and a great sword as tall as a man; ceremonial or made for a giant? Plus as much chainmail and armour you could need to fight a small battle.

Later we visited the Capability Brown designed gardns , including the rose garden (not yet flowering but inspiring in its scope nonetheless) and the peacock garden. The peacocks (and hens) were quite tame. Peacock topiary impressed.

The falconry (bald headed eagle) display was amazing ; as well trained as sheepdog but potentially 10 times as lethal , wheeling and diving a foot or so above the heads of the seated audience. I want one! And later , as we were leaving the millrace we watched a falcon alternating between the steep crumbling castle walls and his trainer.

The final and best highlights were to come! Firstly the trebuchet show ; the world’s largest treb and a narrator straight out of the past took us though the mechanism of ensuring siege success. The intrepid trebbers wound it up just like mice in a wheel , now and then stopping to catch their breath and balance so they didn’t barf on the inside of the wheel! The trigger was set and the chain attached to a flaming ball , summarily despatched high into the air above the field of pavilion tents. Great cheers all round and no-one got hurt.

As we were leaving the castle we espied the archery display by on of England’s top armourers and expert bowman. He regaled us with the history of the longbow ; for 20 minutes we were transfixed by his animated dialogue and occasional firing of an arrow into a target in front of the castle wall. He finished with a demonstration of the (theoretical) lethality of the crossbow. Thud! Those nasties wouldn’t penetrate plate armour but would turn your soft organs to jelly. No escape from certain death…

A fine end to a splendid day. Absolutely bang on , top hole and a jolly good show!

Friday 25th May

Dear Diary – awoke to another festy day ; wind and rain streaking in from the southwest. Typical. Planned trip to Bath postponed. Instead we journeyed into Cirencester to the Cornish pasty shop (Beef & Guinness , can highly recommend) and to gather some essentials (computer discs , stamps , bread and wine). Checked out the library for interent purposes then returned to the car where the weather had cleared somewhat. Henceforth a little road trip via the A420 to the Uffington white horse, carved out of the chalk on the Oxfordshire downs. Wonderful views , wind blowing our cares away and James very excitedly dashing hither and thither. The horse is remarkably well preserved. Views down to Dragon hill (site of St George’s removal of the dragon) and then upwards to the crest of the hill. Uffington “castle” the site of an ironage fort with broad and deep ditch. No castle remains though. James scootered around the rim and almost got blown away on more than one occasion. Tired himself out and had to be piggybacked back to the road.

Drove a short distance along a muddy potholed clayey track to the ridgeway and “Wayland’s Smithy” , a Neolithic (3000 BC) burial tomb. Four huge entrance stones and a short tunnel in front of the 50 metre barrow. All surrounded by old beeches (with fairly modern graffiti) and fields of spent but vividly yellow flowering Brassica crops. An impressive site , for sure.


Retraced our steps to our barn and a delicious beef bourguignon. The local pigs are called Billy , Bruiser & Sheila, the last named after the ex-wife of a local. The cows look very happy browsing the lush but soggy meadow enveloping our vista.


Saturday 27th May

Quiet day ; lunch at White Gate House with the all the Sampsons and Barney , Hannah and Amelia.

Sunday 28th May

Oxford – city of spires , bookshops , sandstone and gargoyles. Spent several hours aimlessly wandering about trying to absorb as much as possible without succumbing to the overwhelming sense of history and learning. Notwithstanding the priceless collections of artwork , for me the Ashmolean Museum will forever be imprinted upon my memory for its stupendous aggregation of Greek , Etruscan and Egyptian artefacts and antiquities. Ranging from the most exquisite tiny carved marble figurines through jewellery of all precious stones and metals up to large amphorae with finer decoration than you would think possible. Many are in superb condition i.e. complete with little if any damage evident. The Egyptian collection is massive ; sarcophagi and carvings so massive you wonder how they were transported in to the museum let alone retrieved from deep below when discovered. Just brilliant and unforgettable. You’d need several weeks here to study the enormity of the collections.

Ate sandwiches in the Botanic Gardens where Elly pushed Martin into the fishpond in 1969. Meandered through the heart of the old town peering into cloistered courtyards but lacking the time to fully explore. It was too busy to go punting on the Thames ; another time maybe. Lost ourselves on exiting the town but ended up in my birthplace , Botley , drove past the old house at 2 Seacourt Rd. Ah , the memories! A circuitous route home to Bottom Barn , as per usual.

Monday 29th May

Dry conditions ; a late start and decided to head west and south. Firstly whizzed down the M4 to Bristol and 6 miles south to Stanton Drew , a tiny hidden village amidst high hedgerows. The holy grail was the stone circles , an aggregate of 3 circles and a cove of 3 stones next to the churchyard of St Marys in the garden of the Druid’s Arms pub. The stones are huge , the grass lush (avoid the thistles) , the cows very content . A totally unexplored and never excavated site full of mystery. The stones were coarsely pitted but supremely climbable and I lingered on top of the tallest menhir to take more pictures after the tourists had dissipated. There is much to learn about this site , second only to Avebury in maximal dimensions , and who knows how important in the scale of ancient monuments?

After sandwiches , motored south via Wells to Glastonbury. The main street was awash with incense and the shops redolent with mystic kitsch. Tourist numbers seemed fairly low. Wandered around the abbey ruins ; plenty of time to soak up the ancient ambience. The abbot’s kitchen and museum were new additions to our previous visit in 1993. The lady kneeling at the high altar site seemed to be waiting for a passing tractor beam , God bless her. Other good stuff : the exposed floor tiles and well. Weather breezy but fairly warm.

Home via several dozen roundabouts and a rainstorm . Bovva boys recovering from beer & sausage weekend in Malmesbury , ‘ere we go, ‘ere we go, ‘ere we go!


Big nosh up at the Indian restaurant in Malmesbury. No worries sahib! Pukka tukka in the Cotswolds. We were impressed , and bloated.


Tuesday 30th May
Another sleep in and another late-ish start to our travels. Headed west on a “fine and mild to warm partly cloudy day” through Tetbury and Dursley to Berkeley Castle near the Severn River. Definitely much quieter setting than Warwick – a much smaller though impressive stronghold still partly occupied by cousins of the original Berkeleys. Starting off with a snack in the café we ambled around the immediate grounds overlooking the Severn valley. Castle walls are made of a melange of sandstone , limestone and tufa , the porous rock which supports growth of numerous wild (and not so wild) flowers. Quite an amazing sight – a vertical cottage garden. Parts of the wall were quite damp and green (mossy) which is good for plants but not brilliant for structural integrity – though with walls at least 8 foot thick I doubt whether this is a major concern for the owners.

We were caught up in the official tour , our guide a suitably ancient , knowledgeable lady with the gift of the Berkeley gab. Malhereusement we were forbidden from photographing the magnifiient interior. However , the insides were suitably impressive that much will remain in the memory down the track. This castle is stunning without being overwhelming…however the common man could not imagine himself living here. The walls are draped with huge 16th century tapestries , family portraits by the score and various nautical and country scenes depicting the Berkeleys’ successes in trade , war and hunting innocent furry animals. Personally I was most interested in the castle layout , the structural integrity and profusion of old doors, some of which had been “collected on travels”. A 1920s porch had been added to the courtyard by a modern earl who liked to dine alone in the great hall but respected the fact that the occasional visitor would be left out in the cold on an inclement day. So he scratched around and found some ancient stone bits (probably local churches) and a door from an old church in the South of France. Unfortunately he had to slice 1/3 off the magnificently carved (13 saints) door to make it fit the already completed stone portal. The door badly needs a coat or six of linseed oil.

Other fascinating parts included the kitchen (full of old implements – hooks , skewers and spit roast attachments, plus various pots and pans and lead sinks) and chapel , converted fairly recently to a morning room. We enjoyed the small weapons collection outside the great hall which included a poachers gun (shaped like a walking stick) and a crusader’s sword (surprisingly small) – the remainder being a hotch-potch of mostly Cromwellian articles. The great hall was adorned with tapestries and various oversized items of furniture and interior design appropriate to such an immense room. But cold in winter, despite the big fireplace!

The final room was a nice beer cellar , for some reason (perhaps deliberate?) left unscrubbed and full of dust , cobwebs and the smell of sweaty feet. Huge barrels and tags from previous deliveries of fine vintages. The beer was mage in the kitchen and piped under the courtyard (~ 40 yards) into the cellar. Brilliant or what? I have to carry my brews by hand.

Finally , have to mention the castle’s main claim to fame …the deep dungeon which was stocked with rotting animal corpses to overwhelm the hardiest of prisoners. Not evil enough it seems for Edward II who required an additional red hot spike up the backside to finish him off. Apparently the punishment fitted at least one of his crimes…

On that note I can tell you the castle grounds were stunningly terraced and finished with a wonderful collection of mature trees , a large classical pond , several arched hedges and huge topiarised bushes/hedges. There was the most magnificent wisteria you could hope to see , ascending the whole of the west wall (I imagine at least 80 feet tall). I took too many photos but there will be plenty to choose from later.

We wandered out to the nearby butterfly enclosure…incongruously tropical.

To round out the afternoon we drove up into the plateau stopping at Nymphfield longbarrow. A fabulous panorama from the lumpy grassy escarpment to the Severn valley patchwork below. The barrow is partly uncovered but you get an idea of the entrance layout with burial chambers in situ. No bones though…Luke lay in the cnter as a good omen…And after we headed a mile in the other direction to Uley tumulus (aka Hetty Pegler’s Tump) , another longbarrow. Alex & I went alone along a filed of ripening oats and ubiquitous nettles. This barrow is well reserved and we crouched very low(almost on knees) to enter the dark damp chamber , smelling faintly of incense (aka HO – hippy odour). Weird feeling – the claustrophobia of a cave but spiced with the whiff of death. A nice place to be laid to rest, though.

Wound our way back via dappled tunnels of beech and oak to Tetbury . James fell asleep just before we hit the town. The tea shoppe proprietor greeted us like lost souls…I suspect we were his first customers of the day( at 5pm)…but attended to our every need , mostly toasted sandwiches. James was restored! Subsequently we polished off a fine roast chicken dinner and James tired himself out with some football. Plus the 2 week-old piglets provided some fine entertainment


Wednesday 31st May

Quiet day ; went into Cirencester , strolled around the abbey grounds , afternoon tea at White Gate House. Chili Con Carne Con Packet Con Tescos for dinner.

Thursday 1st June

Up early (for us) and away at 9 heading south for Cornwall. Sun shining in the far off distance. Whizzed down to Exter via the M5 in 1 ¾ hours then over to Bodmin Moor where I managed not to find the Nine maidens stone circle (more’s the pity) and waste an hour of our day – but still it was good to stretch the legs and listen to the shep and espy the wind farms towards the coast. By now the sun was shining seriously. We wound our way east to Tintagel to grope around the ruins and come to grips with the various myths and legends. Tintagel was as kitsch as we remembered it. However it is a picturesque headland and a nice little brook running down beside the path to the cove. The guide book was fairly comprehensive – these things are starting to resemble value for money. If only pounds were dollars…

Around 4:30 the car headed south again and we sped towards and eventually into St Ives where cousin Phoebe had at short (12 hours) notice waved her wand and scared up a house overlooking the promenade but at the quiet end of the beach. The first pass down and along the cobbles , almost less than one cars’ width , dodging tourists and dogs and prams. Couldn’t “find the deck chairs” and had to escape via more impossibly narrow streets to a car park on the other side of town until Phoebe rescued us.
“Roomy little cottage” and with all mod cons bar a dishwasher , but we’d brought three of them.
The tide rushed in and lifted the couple of dozen fishing boats off the sand . We purchased 6 haddock ‘n’ chips and ate them up against the wall (to prevent seagull attack) along the beach. A nice way to watch the sun go down , but it did get all of a sudden very chilly…A good time to seek out ice creams and later , a home brew of Nescafe.

Friday 2nd June

Perfect blue skies after a good night’s sleep – it doesn’t come better! Wandered along the pier @ 7:30 – town is very sleepy save for a few fishermen and early anglers. Shallow water a crystal greeny blue with clear sandy bottom. Pier dates back to 1890 which judging from the general architecture would appear to be the heyday of the area. Tried to find a café but nothing’s open until 9. So, off to the local convenience store for some breakfast essentials. Cereal multipack , with Frosties & Coco Pops. Sensational.

Apres petit dejeuner , we drove south and then west of St Ives to the standing stone of Men A Tol , the stone with the hole reputedly excellent for curing scrofulous children & rickety backs. We walked for 15 minutes up a dry dusty lane amidst high solid stone walls ; not the delicate Cotswold type but big granitic freestone rocks , some as big as standing stones. Even some of the farm buildings were built of similar stones but this did not prevent dilapidation…who knows how old these buildings were? It felt pretty ancient anyway. Very lonely. The stones were clearly well used with a comfortably rough granite surface which did my back no end of good as I passed whiddershins through the hole.

Back to the car and 2 miles on chanced upon Lanyon Quoit , an immense dolmen which would look the part in any suburban garden , & mine. If I needed any more inspiration , here it was! Too big for the suitcase though…

A short way down the road (typically circuitous and high hedged , with a rhododendron-lined section) we lurched into Penzance. No pirates and not much evidnce of fishing either – more the gaggle of tourist outlets and dodgy Cornish tea shops (one of which we unfortunately sampled). Surely it’s not that hard to scare up a decent coffee? Leaving Penzance we headed towards Lands End , stopping about 4 miles south to walk across the field to the stone circle of Boscawen-Un, set amidst wildflowers and gorse and bracken, A very decent circle about 20 yards across with a big teetering central menhir. Very quiet , hot sun , no breeze. It seemed as if we were waiting for something to happen. Strange.

Motored on to Land’s End and the 3 pound car parking fee with tourist megacomplex beyond. The beer made it worthwhile , the view was not too bad and the weather just ideal. James went on the huge inflatable castle , but that was as much additional fee as they could extract from us. Even the fridge magnets were unappealing. An ecotourist opportunity seriously missed. Well anyway we’ve been to Land’s End – have you?

Retraced our steps via a herd of overly mammiliferous cows on the way to the milling shed. Regathered our thoughts and at 6 left to meet up with Phoebe and Angelo. Drove in convoy ~ 30 minutes north to Gwin??? Beach , a big surf beach akin to our east coast Tassie beaches. Under the cliffs we cooked a BBQ (Tesco’s instant) with fish and snags and kebabs,plus some champagne to celebrate P&A’s new house.

Very nice ; escaped the rising tide and shared a beer as the sun set over the Atlantic.A simply brilliant way to end the day.

Saturday 3rd June

Up quite early and left St Ives ; long drive ahead. Destination : the Eden Project near St Austell. Well worth the deviation to see the incredible complex of geodesic domes and gardens of all climates amd species. This place was amazingly well planned and funded and you could easily spend a whole day wandering around. Fantastic organic and inorganic sculptures , stunning botanical collctions and layout (despite the project only being established in 2000). Enjoyed a wood fired pizza /pasta lunch and a typically flat but tasty ale. The educational display was well constructed and the overall impression was that of a roomy , clean , well stocked and inspirational complex. Well worth a return visit one day.

Long drive up the M5/M4 via traffic works, home again. Dinner with the aunts.

Monday 4th June

After our long day yesterday we started out late and drove north to Sudeley Castle . Mot of the interior is now private residences and James was somewhat disappointed with the paucity of interesting stuff! The main historical fact is this is where Katherine Parr lived after her marriage to Thomas Seymour. The gardens are magnificent and the church is certainly worth a look. The dilapidated tithe barn , overgrown with roses and about a hundred other species was in many ways the most interesting , for me at least. The huge formal hedges must take some trimming ? scaffolding. Lawns clipped with scissors , immaculate box hedges. A nice organic vege garden and pheasantry , with birds from around the world , plus showy peacocks.

James was delighted with the adventure playground with kids castle and swings and slide. It restored his faith in our choice of stopoff.

Moving right along Marguerite negotiated Cheltenham and then onwards to Herefordshire where eventually (after losing mobile phone contact several times) we located Barney. His in laws’ house is typically picturesque and charming and we certainly enjoyed a cuppa and Hannah’s fresh baked biscuits. Then it was down the lane and over to Kington a small town about 6miles away. Our B7B for two nights a large house with very English garden and large vegetable plot. Plus a huge ancient wisteria growing up the side of the old house. Very comfortable accommodation, good views over Herefordshire and Wales (we are virtually on Offa’s Dyke the old Wales/England Hadrian’s Wall equivalent.

Tuesday 5th June

Up earlyish and “treated” to the Full English Breakfast on a capacious dining table in a 17th century dining room ; the owner is a descendant of Charles Darwin whose (facsimile) portrait stared stentorously at us throughout our petit dejeuner. I made sure the egg was wiped clean off the plate , and polished Luke’s mushrooms off for him. Then it was off to Bewdley just outside Worcester to meet up with mum’s cousins Merryn & Columb Howell, neither of whom I had met before (well not to my knowledge). Various family albums were producd and we were regaled with spicy anecdotes of the heyday of the Howell family in the industrial age. Merryn & Columb live smack bang in the middle of Bewdley , their quaint home a medly of buildings with land stretching up the hill and apparently adjoining the Royal Palace where Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII met or were wed. Plus, the family fireplace was apparently the stamping ground of Elizabeth 1st’s nags. Ah it’s a small world. Anyway it was a lively time though the lads were a bit bored by their father’s apparent fascination with the past, and with relatives at best to them , obscure. Still , worth the visit ; much to dwell on and Barney has some work ahead scanning and naming photos and photographing memorabilia/artefacts.

Afterwards we headed down to the nearby restored Severn railway and took a short trip on a steam train to Kidderminster ; the museum was full of elderly trainspotters and shiny bronze bits and bobs. The lads tried the points lever mechanism. Puffed back to Bewdley and then drove back to Heredford district. Eventually found , via a quaint bridge on the Wye and several anorexic lanes the Neolithic burial chamber known as Arthur’s Stone. A bloody big capstone if ever there was plus stupendous views down to Wales and lambs a-bleating in the adjacent fields.

Returned to Kington , then again , followed Barney & Hannah speeding from Kington towards Wales to the old pub called Rhydspence , 50 metres shy of the Welsh border. Enjoyed a superb pub meal , more a gourmet delight with Marguerite & I sinking our chops into fine aged eye fillets , mine pocketed with Stilton , adrift on a port wine sea.The French merlot was superb. Barney & Hannah shared a wicked looking Bannish pudding which was too rich for my taste. Said goodbyes whilst Luke trotted off to the land of rarebit and daffyds.

Tuesday 6th June

Away after another healthy breakfast ; we headed west into Wales and down to hay-on Wye, the town famous for its million used books in 20 or so bookshops. Acres of shelving , a real maze of used & remaindered editions. Luke eventually tracked down a copy of the complete Blackadder plus a Terry Deary knights novel whilst I found an obscure book about Avebury. Enough damage done (we already have enough for another suitcase (plus a kettlebell , but we won’t go there)). From Hay , inland and south via picture book valleys and hills to Abergavenny and thence to Raglan castle. Though ruined , this fitted the “good vibe’ bill for everyone and we spread like ants around the site down into dungeons and cellars and down and up spiral staircases , there being one high lookout (the great tower) with stupendous views of the countryside. Many photos later and with James’ faith in castles restored (after his Sudeley disappointment) we plucked the eyes from the gift shop and sauntered gaily around the adjacent lane to a fabulous café with sweeping views – first to a melange of nettles , dock , buttercups , thistles and stickyweed over to rolling acres over which happy cows ambled. My baguette with roast beef and horseradish really hit the spot whilst the lads enjoyed toasties.

Thus fortified we sped down the map into the steep–sided valley south of Monmouth, alighting at Tintern Abbey in warm mid afternoon sun . Tourist numbers were low which always adds to the ambience of such an historical site. Far larger than I had imagined , and with some sympathetic window purple-hued stonework restoration (as at Raglan). The interior was most impressive and reminded James of the Harry Potter movie setting. The guidebook is excellent (5 stars to the Welsh for their efforts) and there is much to digest at a later time. Of course we had to donate to the gift shop lady ; I couldn’t resist a pair of gargoyle fridge magnets (tasteful of course) and Luke picked up a long sought-after book of Celtic knot techniques. James returned with a special memento – an Excalibur styled Celtic sword letter opener . Happy chappy!

Mindful of the time we left and vis a surprisingly quiet motorway returned via Malmesbury to Bottom Barn @ 5:30

Wednesday 7th June

A gloriously warm day ; buzzed dwon the M4 to Windsor and Legoland…a lifelong dream for Alex & Luke and a place to lose yourself in for James. Amazing miniature cities and nation-themed displays set in an excellent display of bonsaied tress and shrubs. James rode his first rollercoaster and hated it! He was really scared and shaking for some time afterwards. For the older lads it was a bit tame but not lame. We went again , and on another one. James was enthralled by the dino dipper and the fan boat gyrator thingy. Somehow we managed to kill over 5 hours in the place. It was hot! All in all a well-planned theme park and one which we all remember.

75 miles home to a sausage, pasta and salad BBQ in perfect English summer evening conditions. After tea I went for a walk amidst the curious cows and down to the river and darkening woods beyond. In the encroaching gloom I startled a deer about 30 metres away and being downwind managed to creep to within arrow distance before it scarpered. Caught sight of some pheasants and legions of noisy unidentifiable birds flapping from tree to tree. The sun was smothered in grey-blue smoky clouds as it knelt towards the horizon. I strolled back through freshly mown fields reeking of wet earth and early rot.

Thursday 8th June

Awoke to a muggy day ; left @ 10 and headed down to Bath ; very slow ingress and the car park ticket machine was dysfunctional. Walked into the city heading via café Nero straight to the Roman Baths. Fortunately , not too busy and we didn’t feel rushed. Exited via the gift shop , where again the lure of foreign books proved too great. I shall need a shipping container.

Before lunch (I shall not mention the venue) we traipsed around Bath Abbey with its soaring vaulted 15th century ceiling , acres of arches and extensive stained glass (much repaired following the 1942 air raids). James completed a kid’s quiz wandering around searching for a plethora of obscure ecclesiastical clues. To his delight he was rewarded with an religious ruler in a speckled gold of his own choice. Something to parade in front of Father John when he gets back to school.

After lunch we made the wise decision to tour the city via open air bus and guide. We seemed to cover every street and pass every building of note , learning much obscure detail and meanings of everyday expressions.eg the practice of burying plague victims with a string around the finger attached to a bell ; if they regained consciousness they were “saved by the bell” (or “dead ringers”). Brunel the railway engineer was certainly a favourite “son” and the city never regained the attention of an insulted Queen Victoria (who accidentally flashed her adipose ankles on a visit early in her reign; this was written up by an observant journalist next day).

By now it was approaching 4 ; time to depart before the rush hour traffic. Uneventful trip back home ; dinner in the garden at White Gate House on a glorious warm evening ; raucous birds in the oaks ; Alex went through his clarinet repertoire for the aunts.

Friday 9th June : My Hamburg trip

Train from Kemble to Reading ; coach to Heathrow , flight to Hamburg. Arrived a bit late ; Hotel AM Holstenwall was quite adequate though next to busy road with park beyond. Soon after I arrived there were huge roars from nearby ; I find out the world cup stadium is a park away and Germany is playing! Walked the deserted streets nearby but found an Italian restaurant (not surprisingly rather quiet) with the obligatory TV screen and some fine pasta – my pre-comp carbohydrate needs were met. Walked it off in the park and then against the tide of soccer fans jubilantly exiting the stadium. Pandemonium ,but a good vibe! Wandered back to the hotel & met Lorraine , my Girevoy Sport compatriot from America.

Saturday 10th June

Off early (0630) to train station ; running late we couldn’t get the ticket machine to work in our favour. Impossible to buy tickets via humans. Ruthless German efficiency. So Lorraine strides onto the train assuring me “they never check the tickets”. No sooner than the wheels started rolling , the big tough stern ticket fraulein accosts us for “ticketen”. Lorraine gives her a serve ; we pull our wallets but no , it is impossible to buy tickets from this point. We are prepared to argue all the way to the police station but others on the train offer their family tickets ; we are saved ; the angry fraulein stomps off. Arrive in Ahrensburg where Stefan ,the big, bright eyed German organiser meets us and then it is 30 mins of weaving through open country forests and finally to a Hansel & Gretel housing estate so Lorraine can have a borrowed American flag for the competition. Then on to the sportsschule , a kind of university sports institute , our venue. “A little bit grim/tired” would be an adequate descriptor , but appropriate for a Russian sport! Fortunately breakfast was on offer.
Registering was interesting ; loads of officials , nobody speaking English , paid my 20 euro fee which later was changed to 30. Lorraine was subsequently dragged away and had to pay 40 Euros ; no explanation. Anyhow ,we get our licences to compete in international Girevoy Sport for 2006.

Moved into the hall (sports/basketball stadium) where for the next 2 ½ hours the Russians milled around setting up. Really , it was probably about 1 hour’s work but these guys are soooo inefficient. Slow slow slow! I weighed in heavier than I have ever weighed (German breakfast?)but luckily 200 grams under the weight for the next division. Lorraine is horrified to discover they weigh the women and is on the borderline (overweight) but refuses to strip off to her underwear in full view.

Finally , 1 ½ hour late the comp starts and Lorraine is a bit shocked to find she is first on! The comp runs 3 platforms simultaneously. She has to swing a 16 kg bell overhead as many times as possible with the left , then the right hand in 10 minutes. You cannot put the bell down ; if you drop it before the hand switch you are OUT! She manages 104 reps , 22 down on her result in the USA 2 weeks before but the competition bells are much bigger (though not heavier) than she is used to back home. She earns an early beer , and later a silver medal - the first Western athlete to achieve a medal at international kettlebell sport.

I am not “on”for some time so I take the chance to check out the other athletes. Lithuanians , Estonians , Latvians – rather grim faced and intense. Ukrainians! Our favourites – beaming smiles , very cohesive and proud team , complete spectrum of body types. 80% did not look particularly athletic (looks are deceiving!) Most are hard men, just as you would imagine. One happily paunched fellow (not me) sorted out his T shirt trades very early on.

My target was the biggest character , a big old guy who I dubbed “The pirate”. Bandana , pigtail , 2 earrings in 1 ear , long yellow socks , tatts all over his arms. He strutted and swaggered with all the assurance of a buccaneer who has seen it all before , but in general kept his distance from the pack. After Lorraines’s effort he is the first up to congratulate and offer some tips – I think he was trying to tell her he would be her coach (the language barrier and continental divide notwithstanding). Despite his imposing image he is a genuinely friendly and helpful guy though we cannot understand 99.9% of what he is saying. He shows us a folder full of his achievements – he is 60 years old , we think runs a chicken business , highly decorated in his sport, close to the governor like any father , intensely proud of his family . He explains on a piece of paper how he holds several Guinness book of records records , for various non- competition kettlebell lifts e.g 1 armed presses with 32 kg , alternating 5 reps right/left switched behind the neck – 586 total! He gives me his CV – all in Russian of course , and a photo.

Later I am called up to compete. Stefan lends me his bell and we chalk up the handle – I have never used chalk and we watch how the Russians do it. They assess Stefan’s chalk quality as not so good. Hmm , whatever , I am on the platform and awaiting the countdown to start. As this is in Russian I just have to watch my “neighbours” and grab the handle when they start. I start with the left hand , my weakest , the biggest fear is I will drop it and foul out of the contest. I am going OK but after 35 reps the chalk tears my palm and I feel my grip slipping . Rather than risk fouling our I continue to 60 reps and discretion being the better part of valour I switch. The right hand feels much surer but I can feel the adrenaline and I am sweating madly now. I just try to keep a steady cadence and blot out the surroundings – just another training session. I lose count – I would be happy to get 70 and at that point my forearm is getting tight. I try to rest in the lockout position to buy some more blood, wiggle the fingers. My neighbours are just swinging away steadily ; I am a babe in the woods! At 140 reps the body and mind are ready to quit but I become aware of Stefan yelling out encouragement.”143” , “144” “145” “Go for 150 Paul (“pou –ool”)” “You can do it”. At this point it is snatching from a dead hang , the chalk is suddenly my friend glueing me to the bell. I am also aware of my journey to this point , the fact that this is my first comp , a rare chance to compete overseas let alone at a world championship , the first and only Girevoy Sport competitor from Australia etc etc. Most of all , I am aware of being judged by the Russians , the masters of this toughest of sports. Time to dig deep , very deep indeed! With Stefan . Lorraine , Harry (“GS soldier” on dragon door forum), Joachim and sundry Russians yelling I am able to pull a few more reps overhead for a total of 161 reps (24kg giri) in just under 10 minutes – 101 with the right hand , a personal best by 10. I am exhausted but elated. Mission accomplished , at least I only have to wait a few seconds for my more experienced “colleagues” to finish their sets.

Time for a beer (it is 3 O’clock after all , this is a Saturday in Germany).

Subsequently (and before) there was a succession of stellar performances from “young” and “older” gireviks. Lubya , the women’s world champion chalked up 241 reps with the 16kg for a new record. Amazing , so smooth ,so predictably ruthless in her assault on the old record. The other females were equally impressive, two boys (12 & 13) gave a demonstration with the 16 kg bell – the older boy managed 136 reps! The males were incredible , only the time clock stopped them. Very efficient , very powerful , very machine-like, very very experienced and assured. The top scores were around 240-250 ; the girevik in the over 80kg class was built like a brick and switched hands at 200 reps (!!!) speeding up as the timeclock counted him down to 270 total. He was not even puffing…I suspect he could have made another 150 or so.

I have climbed a hill , he has summited Everest with no supplemental oxygen. There is much to learn and in due course I will watch the videos and analyse my approach.

Joachim is so determined and tears up both palms so both are dripping blood. Mr happily paunched Ukrainian Takes us back to his room (strewn with Russian secrets) and pours a secret liquid on Joachim’s unwillingly outstretched palms. He screams and watches the orange foam rise. I think it is peroxide. “NO INFECTION” booms the “doctor”. I try a bit on my stripped palm – it is painful so Jo , I feel some of your pain. We will heal though.

As the afternoon turns to evening the comp finishes and there are dozens of photos. I get my shirt signed by the champs , loads of strong handshakes and hugs with beaming smiles all round ; I get a kiss or two from Lubya (she is all woman, albeit scarily powerful) and to top it off , the Pirate , ( Lorraine’s new coach and boyfriend ) gives me the Ukrainian shirt off his back , his surname and sweat included!

I make friends with another Ukrainian who can speak pretty good English ; he is a coal miner (works 1000 metres below the ground) and is a wrestling coach. A strong man , very friendly and he takes us aside for some coaching. Then it is time to line up for the 2 hour long award ceremony! Enough said!

We are all exhausted and in no shape for partying. More photos , more autographs and we say our goodbyes. Manuela , Stefan’s better half and team photographer/morale office extraordinaire drives us back to the hotel in Hamburg with an impromptu tour of the main sites included. It is still light at 1030 ; Lorraine & I retire to the bar for a single drink then part for a well earned sleep. What a day - all I expected but much much more. I can’t wait to see all the photos , and later the results , no doubt in Cyrillic.

Lorraine , thanks for your company , you are an amazing ambassador for the sport ; Stefan , Manuela , Harry , Joachim and everyone else (especially the Pirate) – you have made this long journey very worthwhile indeed.

Spaseeba!

“Taker” Paul (They could not get our names right, but that is fun)


Saturday 10th June

The family left in England does London in a day! (details later)

Sunday 11th June

They do Stratford – Shakespeare etc and later pick me up from Swindon station.