So I’m back in London as there’s loads to do here as well as in Somerset. The tiny garden needs a bit of TLC. I need to get some fleece for the tree ferns and the bananas although last year I didn’t fleece. Well I did. But I didn’t fleece the plants.
But so far I’ve been on a roll. A veterinary roll. Have you ever met a poor vet? Me neither. So last week Bob the cat was limping. I was away so Ian had to ask our friend Cate for a lift and took him to the vet where they couldn’t find anything. Which didn’t please him. He said he knew that there was something wrong. He came away with some liquid painkiller. And a nagging feeling we would be back.
Bob Bob
Come Saturday we find a lump on Fat Harry’s back. Monday it’s worse. So off I Trot with him to the vet . Not great as I have been awake half the night. Listening to the US presidential debate. So off we go – . That in itself is no easy task. Fat Harry is a big cat. One that hates his carrier. Even worse he hates the car. We rarely get to the end of the road without a disaster. Think smells. Bad smells. And it’s not me. Honest. Fat Harry
But surprise. He behaves and Yep. He has either a bite or a scratch on his back. So they drain it. My spending money depleted for October. One good thing though. Fat Harry has lost weight. Like my wallet.
I leave joking with the vet I hope I don’t see her in a while. She understands and laughs. Hmmm. Laugh is on me. I’m back again on Tuesday. The next day.
Bob this time. Again. He’s limping badly and in pain. That’s my day done. I’m having a hair cut at 9. A doctors at 1. Life of a retired man. Off I go to the vet. Turns out he has an abcess on his paw. So an anaesthetic later he’s ready to come home. I have now provided the vet with sufficient funds to purchase a designer handbag.
Look. I have a shaved paw
Back home Bobs next to the radiator on the landing. Fat Harry has a better way of keeping warm. Isn’t that what a chimenea is for?
Now it’s my turn. Not the Vets as I can’t afford their fees. The good old NHS. I have a bit of arthritis in my hands. It’s a family thing. Runs in the family. Dad had it. Mum had it. Brother has it. My mother always blamed my fathers side so I don’t know how she thought she got it. But she always blamed the Jones line. Never the Robins.
Parents on mums last birthday in 2012
The surgery has a new clinic. A trained Physio. Checking on my dodgy hands. My thumb on my left. My middle finger on my right. Turns out I have trigger finger. Well trigger thumb really as it’s not my finger. She was brilliant. Explained everything then threw in the killer question. So ‘ do you want a steroid injection now or do you want to go away and think about it ‘
Think about it? I wanted to do a runner. I don’t like needles. At all. I know that sounds strange as I have Accupuncture on a regular basis. But that’s different. My mother knew I hated needles. When I told her I was having Accupuncture she was shocked. But I was more shocked at her typical response. ‘ why are you having Accupuncture ‘ she asked concenrned. ‘ to make me a nice person ‘ I joked. ‘ do they have enough needles ‘ she responded. She never lost it. The first day I went to the nursing home to see her after she moved in my dad asked her if she knew who I was. ‘ I have no idea’ she replied. ‘But whoever you are you need to lose some weight’. Her dementia and Alzheimer’s had taken its toll – I had only seen her two weeks earlier. – and she never recognised me again. But she made us laugh.
I digress. The steroid injection happened. And it hurt. I know I’m a big girls blouse but I wanted to cry. I didn’t obviously. Stiff upper lip and all that. But i bit my lip so hard! Today my thumb feels easier Lets see. Fingers crossed. Oh. Sorry I can’t cross them. Arthritic fingers and all that !
I’m b hoping theres no more vet visits for a while. Please?
So I have a list of things to do. A long list so I’d better get on with it. Before Ian comes home.
I used to hate dahlias growing up. My parents grew them – not a lot but they grew some. But I hated them. They largely grew Pom Poms. They were always plagued by earwigs. Which seemed to creep out when I was near them. Or picked them.
Decades later I received a bouquet from Common farm flowers which included dahlias. Beautiful colourful dahlias which looked amazing in a vase. I was hooked and decided to grow some. I put in a small cutting patch of dahlias. This year I added a few more. Next year is an odd one. We are possibly doing an extension which means changes in the garden. But whatever happens there will be dahlias. From Peter Nyssen
On Friday I was at Common Farm Flowers for the day. And there were dahlias. Some gorgeous colours. Shapes. In the brides bouquet. In the jam jar posies for the tables. In the larger arrangements. Mixed with rose petals in the confetti.
Here are a few pics of this years flowers. Some are Common Farm Flowers. Some from my garden in Somerset.
So we have left the Great Bear Rainforest and the Great Bear Lodge and are heading again for Vancouver Island. On that 1944 Hrummond Goose Seaplane. It hasn’t changed since the journey over. Why would it. It hasn’t changed since 1944. As it’s my birthday I get to sit in the co pilot seat. Much to the annoyance of the man with the big lens. I still have lens envy. But it’s my birthday. Yep. I have my clean pants. But thankfully I didn’t need them. It was amazing. I was in awe of the pilot.
We land at Port Hardy. Not on water but on land. Yes it’s a seaplane. But one that also has wheels. Remember? Ha. You didn’t read my last blog then. I’m so glad the pilot waited until we landed to radio in and ask if he was ok to fuel up and leave as he didn’t have much fuel on board. Had I known that the pants would have come out of my bag. Very quickly.
So back in civilisation. Mmm. Yep. Of sorts. We had seen the pub we were staying in when we checked in for the flight a few days before. I was not impressed to be honest. But as my mother – yep her again – always told us. Do not judge a book by its cover. And as ususal she was right. Nice room. Spotlessly clean. Sheets so clean that you an smell the freshness. Balcony overlooking the tail end of the harbour. But we ate in another pub. Mistake. We should have eaten here.
We were heading to Tofino but as it was a 7 hour drive we split it and stayed in Parksville for a night. A remarkably un remarkable place. A bit like our ocean view room. Yep. You could see the ocean. Over the backs of the rooms in front. But it was one night. . My camera remained in the room. Very little to photo. Good tortilla chips and dips though. But thank heaven for the god of Imodium the next morning . Theee hours drive didn’t look fun. Even when you’ve borrowed a toilet roll from the hotel.
The roads are remarkably good. Drove for 3.5 hrs to Tofino through the Pacific RimNational park to check into a really lovely hotel on the beach front. A place that is famous for storm watching. Hopefully not whilst we were there. The beach was amazing 1,5 km long with amazing houses right on the sea front. And I mean. On the sea front. Step out of the house. There’s thenbeach. Some amazing houses. Some needing renovation but probably with millions. I couldn’t even do an extra lottery ticket.
You’d never run out of firewood that’s for sure. The driftwood along the beach shore was amazing. As is the sea weed. Bad joke time. Why was the sand wet.Because the sea weed. Aghhhh
People had been artistic and made some small shelters on the beach to shade from the sun. Ha what sun. The first day we were there the beach was swathed in mist. A low hanging mist but great for athmospheroc shots of people and things. Joggers. Snoggers. Dog walkers. Surfers. The old. The young. Us. Well Ian anyway. Usual great shot. Back of his head.
In total contrast the evening sunset the following day was stunning. But the same people who were out in the mist were out at sunset. Joggers. Snoggers. You get the drift. Ha. And driftwood.
Having failed spectacularly in April Point to see any whales we had booked another whale trip. The instructions were clear. Mentioned heart problems. Joint problems. Didn’t recommend it if you suffered incontinence. Ha. That’s taking the p— isn’t it? Having done the trip I understand why. 8 of us on a little boat. Again. But this one shook your innards out. If you aren’t incontinent before it was likely you would be now. I hung on so tightly that I thought I’d had glued my hand on the rail. We bounced up and down and for once I was glad for the J lo love padding on my big fat bottom. Does my bum look big in this – if your going on that boat yes. You’ll need it.
But we saw whales. Grey whales. Breaching. (not giving birth ) but raising out of the water. Another with their tail up. Neither caught on camera as it’s over in a flash. But we saw 5 whales.
Then we headed off to see the sea lions. Excuse me. I’ve done that. Can you please head back. Slowly. And while your at it can you ask the man next to me where he got his sunglasses as I like them. A lot. To be fair. He’s not bad either but I’m concentrating on his glasses. I took a sneaky pic but couldn’t get the make. You can’t with sea salt in your eyes.
Back on dry land we decided on lunch. Now I like a bit of fish and chips and we ate at Big Daddy’s fish bar. Fresh fish served by big daddy – excellent. When my stomach had been put back in place that is. Together with my land legs.
We had a wander around the Tofino botanical gardens. The size of the trees in the rain forest was awesome.
This is the relaxing part of the trip. All stories have a beginning a middle and an end. Vancouver was the beginning. Bear lodge the middle and this. The penultimate part before we head back to Vancouver for our flight home. There was yoga on the beach. Well it wasn’t really. People practicing for their surfing.
So we walked the beaches in the mist. Romantic. Them not us. Never is. Ian usually a mile ahead of me as I’m snapping – I don’t want to be accused of not using my new camera. Another 5 minute fad. So I do. A lot.
Soon time for another 3 hour drive to the ferry to head back to the mainland. For the first time in years we haven’t argued about directions. Yes. We have had Sally sat nag sat on the dashboard but that usually isn’t enough. In over 10 years of going to Toulouse airport we never get far out of the car park before we have had words. This time none! So again we just miss the 12.50 ferry. Which we weren’t getting. Just early for the 3.15. Again first on. First off.
So we have one last night in Vancouver. We venture as far as the hotel bar to be greeted by the barman like we’d never been away. So it was cocktails again. I asked the barman for a walk in the garden. Which sounded like I was being a tad over familiar but was actually the cocktail. I’d asked if the lavender cocktail really was well. Lavendery. He agreed. A walk in the garden would be better. Another time another place. Another decade I would have. But this time I’d stump for the cocktail. Thanks. In my view lavender is good in bags. In soap. Rarely in food.
So we end the holiday as we began. Flying back to londinium.Tired. Jet lagged. But having had a whale (!) of a time. I need another holiday now!
So we are off on the move again. Typically we arrive at the ferry point 5 minutes after the 8am departs. No. We haven’t missed it we are 55 minutes early for the next. We like to be early. This time there is a need. If we can’t get on the 9am we will have to wait until 10 and that will make the journey to the sea plane tight. Once we get to the other side we have a 2hr 40 drive. Great.
So we are one of the firsts on the ferry. And one of the first off. So we head off north on highway 19. A nice road. Interesting for the first half hour. But then more of the same. Beauty all the way.
So we arrive at the seaplane port. It’s chucking it down. The seaplane we are going on is departing from the airport. ?
Apparently it’s one that lands on its belly. In the water. ( sounds like me diving). It’s one of only 3 surviving. Excuse me. Why? A 1944 Grumman goose. Wasn’t that a war plane? The airport is a short drive away. I ask myself why did I agree to a seaplane. Usually I only fly where there is duty free. A trolley service with drinks. Looking at this plane you wouldn’t get a trolley on it.
It seats 8 one of the seats is with the pilot. Thanks but no thanks. I don’t want to look ahead and both sides. One window is enough for me. The plane is small – getting in what stands for a door is challenging. Gawd knows about getting out. It’s still chucking it down. And I mean. Chucking it down. And we are off. Rattling around like a sardine tin. . Noisy. Scary. But do you know what. Actually not as bad as I thought. We land in the estuary easily at the lodge which will be home for 3 nights. With 15 other people. None of whom we know. Yet. Some we will like more than others. Well me really. Ian’s pretty non plus. I have likes and dislikes.
I don’t know how Ian finds them. But this place is stunningly beautiful. Silent. ( once the plane departs) – restful charming.no social media. No wifi. No mobile signal. No tv. So we will have to talk. To each other. To the other guests to the staff. To ourselves. Welcomed by Marg and her team we are instantly sat down to eat. I’ll say it now in case I forget. An amazing team of guides and staff. Informative. Friendly. Helpful. All different in personality but all passionate. About the wildlife and conservation. So – A fantastic meal of salmon. Fabulous salad. But no time for dessert. Why! Because we need to drive for 40 mins in what looks like a school bus out of Fame. Or Glee. No leg warmers. Just thermals.
the guides.the buses. yellow is best .
We are off to view Bears. Based on our whale watching tour I’m not hopeful. Yes. The lodge is called Great Bear Lodge. But who knows. We may see one. We may not. So a drive along a rickety road. There was logging here in the 60s and 70s and the road is a throwback to then. Today. Nothing but the Great Bear Lodge sits in the inlet. On the water. Maintained by the lodge it’s used to get to the bear viewing points. And for nothing else.
We are fully instructed by the team. Bear rules. Do not go off the pontoon alone. Ever. Only with a guide. Be quiet in the hide. Sit down. Don’t panic. A bear may just casually walk past. If your quiet he. Or she will ignore you. No flash. As in camera. Not as in flashing. That’s a different bare holiday.
insode the hide. bear watching
For the second time today I am left speechless. Yes. I know. Something I’m not known for. . But there are bears. And more than one. Seems here we are on a lucky spree. Our first night out and we see Grizzly Bears. Fishing. Wandering. Being swept along on the current past out hide. Noshing on big fat salmon. Just being well. Bears. Ian has a great video or two Of the Bears which I will put in Facebook when we are back.
floating past
Great big animals with huge claws. But looking amazing. So we sit for over 2 hours watching them. Little do they know we wil be back tomorrow. Big bears. Smaller bears. Grizzlies trying to catch food. Big fat chump salmon flapping around like their lives depend on it. Which they do. Bears Scoffing it and leaving the scraps for the bald eagles hovering above. Did I mention bald eagles. There’s loads. Young ones yet to have the white heads. Mature ones. When you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. We age a serious twitcher with us who is waxing lyrical about what he’s seeing. Quietly of course. A retired couple who return back and wrote their journals in red pen. In longhand with seriously small writing. Pages and pages. Of minute detail.
I am in awe. Tired but in awe. Sitting for 2 hours perfectly quiet. Waiting for photo opportunities. Getting them. Worth getting a sore a–e definitely.
The lodge is heaven. Warm cookies every time you return magicked out of thin air. Midnight feasts.wine. Beer. Hot chocolate. Except it’s 9pm and most of us are ready for bed knowing we get an alarm call at 7. Out at 8. But not before we find out about the other 14 people staying.
Every group has a picture board on the wall. Ian’s a bit worried that he looks like a cross dresser. He’s not and he gets away with his blue suede shoes here too. There are people – From Chile. From Oz. From Cardiff. Hello. Cardiff?. – yep and they attend the church where my parents were married. st Marys Whitchirch. They know my old haunts. Well the ones I can mention. Best keep some to myself. I’ve told you before. My mother. She’s keeping an eye on me even now. Theres. A group of 4. Two from Oz. Two from the uk. The girls- lifelong friends on a trip to celebrate a big birthday. One with an 0 in it. There’s a man from Moscow with a huge camera lens. Now I know people say size doesn’t matter. Trust me I had serious lens envy. Size matters a lot. Particularly If your lens is smaller. Much smaller. Mine was.
We ate. We went out for nature walks. . Into the rain forest along the bear highway. One guide at the front. One in the middle. On at the rear. Each with bear spray. I don’t know what it smelt like. We didn’t need it. We saw where they rubbed themselves against the trees. We saw the bear wallow. Where the big fat males took a mud bath.
into the woods
Do you know what. Bears actually do s–t in the woods. It was pointed out. We were told what they had eaten. Berries. Crab apples. They had had a scatologist visit. What a s–t job that must be.
Marcus showed us banana slugs. If you’ve had a slug problem with your dahlias this year then you won’t appreciate these. Big fat ugly slugs with anaesthetic properties. . Oh and we learnt about the sexual pursuits of the slug. And the biting off of their dangly bits. I’ll remember that when I’m on slug watch back home. But I’m not biting.
We went bear watching. We sat in covered hides. But the best night/morning was sat on an open platform. Where bears passed all around us. Where a bear came within 6 feet of me. Right in front. So close he could have put out his paw and touched my leg. But thankfully. Didn’t. And I didn’t need clean pants. Honest. Any closer I just may have. They were in my bag. But he stood and looked. We didn’t exchange pleasantries or swop numbers. But he let me take his picture.
The guides were awesome. Marg. Allie. Sarah and Marcus. Calm. Vigilant. Talking to the Bears in quiet tones to move them on. No quick gestures. No arm waving. Awesome. Next day a different open platform. A different bear so close you could smell her. It’s also true that bears s–t in the river. Right next to you. Another beautiful wild creature.
They were catching salmon. Strolling along the banks. Apparently bears are lazy. They walk the route of least resistance. That sounds familiar. Me too. Not catching salmon. I’ve said before. If I want fish there are shops.
At the end of a long day and a day of big camera lens waving – and I mean big lenses – you know what they say about men with big lenses. Big egos. I’d second that. It Was amusing to watch the dash for the best photo spot. The first bus. Out comes the tripod. The camera. Lenses. By which time the Bears have popped up. Waved and b—d off. Whilst us tiddlers have pointed the camera and shot the picture – given it our number and said see you tomorrow.
So the group of people were as diverse as the Bears. Some people you meet who you agree to keep in touch. And others you know you won’t. Others you know you will. People from Oz who say ‘ if your visiting ‘ and you know that when we go to Brisbane we will drive the 1.5 hours to say hello. People you know you will never see again. – but one thing I will see again is the Bears and the Great Bear Lodge. Like their cookies. One taste is not enough. And both Aloson and I got a birthday cake each. We didn’t eat it all ourselves. We dos share them. Just.
We went out in the row boat. Still peaceful estuary. We got to dress up. On the river waterproofs. For the bear watching big puffa jackets. Not puff jackets which she pronounced poofy jackets. Right for two though.
I could never wear a hat and look fashionable. Or could I?
But 3 nights goes quickly and we are off as quickly as we arrived but all agreed we had an amazing few days. Action packed. Fun. And educational too.
Oh. And I lied at the start. Even though I’d packed those pants in my pocket and never wanted a view from three sides. I sat in the cockpit of the seaplane for the flight back. It was my birthday so I got the seat and it was fantastic. Especially as the man with the big lens wanted it!
So we have left the city and arrived off the mainland. Today starts a week of whale and bear trips. So. Up at 6 to be ready for breakfast at 7. At the pier at 7.45 to kit up ready for the off. It’s absolutely chucked it down all night but there’s a bit of a lull as we go and get kitted up.
It ain’t attractive – for starters I look like the Michelin man. And that’s before I start. When my mother went into her nursing home after a fall I went into see her straight off a flight as we had been on holiday. ‘Help Mum’ i said. My dad ‘ you know who this is don’t you’ she looked At me carefully. ‘ I have no idea but who ever you are you need to lose some weight.’ That’s Alzheimer’s for you. She never recognised me again. She wouldn’t have today for sure. I digress – as usual it’s my mothers fault. It usually is.
Here you go. Guide insists you also need a fishermans mac. Gloves. And a hat. All to add to what you have already. I think an XL raincoat. Your having a laugh young man. Try triple X – I want to breathe as well as be able to move my arms.
So. We are all sat in the boat. Well it’s a dinghy really. Sits 8 and the guide who is driving? The thing. He starts on his outline. ‘Excuse me’ a shrill voice says. Can I use the bathroom. Use the bathroom! You only left your hotel 5 mins ago. And got dressed up the same as the rest of us. Now you want the loo. God help you. You’ll have to peel off the layers. If you can actually fit in the cubicle. She apparently did as eventually she was back. And we were off
To say it was wet was an understatement. It chucked it down. Between the mist and the rain you couldn’t see the person in front of you. Find whales. I couldn’t even find the head of the person in front.
There were breaks in the rain. Few and far between. We circled for hours. Rain lashing at your face – I didn’t know why we were given goggles. Until you got hit in the face with driving rain. I’m on holiday for gawd sake. I need sunshine – I have to top up my farmers tan.
We were wirelessed. There had been a sighting of killer/orcas whales that morning. So off we went. Another hour in the rain. Skirting the shoreline. Still no whales. We stopped near the shore watching a couple of bald eagles circling overhead. That’s when I could lift it. Between goggles. A hat. My camera stuffed in my boiler suit.
Look over there the guide said. There’s a grizzly bear on the grass. Ian saw it through binoculars. Good buy that. Then there were two. B—/-r this – I whipped the camera out and took some photos. In the rain. Not great as we were a fair way off but cropped and lightened you can see it’s a grizzly. Apparently 3 years old. Ish. I don’t know how he could tell. I suspect he was nether at the birth or is a Godparent.
Excited to see a grizzly in the wild. Was I. Do bears …… We are off to Great Bear Losge tomorrow for 4 nights and I’ve already seen two. But no whales. So off we go again. In the rain.
We are not twins. We don’t dress alike honest. But today we have. We will not win any fashion awards for this either. I’m too embarrassed to show our faces.
A shrill voice again ‘excuse me’. I need a toilet stop. Woman. You had one when we started. We are in the middle of open water. Your in a boiler suit. With a fishermans mac. ‘Hang on’says the guide. ‘Here’s a bucket and the back of the dinghy’ Full marks tho – somehow she did it. Round of applause for the lady. ‘It’s alright for you men’ she said. ‘With those useful things of yours’. Huh. Useful? It’s not a bottle opener. ‘We’d have to find it under all this gear ‘ a smart Alec replied. Speak for yourself I thought – though he was right. Im not even going to try.
We were close to the shoreline and looking at waterfalls. Great – Move on thought Ian. Where are the whales.
I need to go to specsavers. I thought the sign said big boy Stuart bay and this is where we eventually stop for lunch. Still no whales. No big boys either. I’m grateful for thermals.
Getting off the dinghy was a scene from the generation game. Who could Look the most stupid exiting the boat. First off was the woman with the shrill voice. What did you say the number was for the toilet. Guide gave her two different codes. She sprinted up the ramp. She was still trying to enter the wrong code as we all reached the top. She had entered the code too many times and she had locked it. But she went. Twice. Only after she’d done a dance. Well a jig. Still no whales.
Bald eagles yes. Whales no.
Weather gear hoisted back up. Zipped up. Hats on. Goggles on. We set off again. But it was sunny. Hurrah. But still no whales. We saw sea lions. Big things sea lions. Hunting for salmon. Not the tinned stuff. Fresh. Plentiful.
Harbour seals basking in the sun disguising themselves on the rocks.
But still no whales. So we headed back. Looking at whirlpools on the way. Scary. Fascinating. 35mph. Bumpy. Windy. But I feel asleep. I don’t know how. But I did.
Back on dry ground. Walking funny. It was s good day. Sea lions. Seals. Bald eagles. And two Grizzlies.but no whales. Tomorrow is another day. And a 2.5 hr drive.
So I arrived at my hotel in Vancouver – I must check that my t shirt doesn’t say miserable old git club. Taxi driver must have had a text from London. Another no talkee no tippee. No ‘ welcome to Vancouver’ another grunter and the only dialogue – ‘it will be thirty five dollars.’ Oh. But the journey in. At least the sunset was there to greet me.
sunset on arrival
So I get to the hotel. . As I suspected I felt something out of Pretty Woman. And sadly not Richard Gere. . Get to check in desk. ‘ Good evening there is a room reserved under the name of Mathieson’ . ‘ good evening Mr Mathieson. How was your journey. Could I have your passport’ ‘ I’m Mr Jones’ I replied. ‘ Mr Mathieson arrives from a business trip in New York tomorrow’. ‘ Ah yes – he has your name here – the room is paid for. But may we take a credit card for any incidentals. We can swop it with Mr Mathieson’s card when he arrives tomorrow’ ‘no need I say’ It’s from our joint account anyway. It will be charged to my husbands account. And off I trot to our room. Without a Julia Roberts crop top in sight. Not chewing gum either. But noting that we need to use the name Mathieson -Jones more often. ( oh. A crop top reminder. One day I will tell the story of the crop top and the hair. – two defining stories in my career) but that’s for another day.
Hotel is fab. Great view over the bay. Comfortable bed – more so as I have it to myself. Joy of joys. But. I can’t sleep. So without anyone telling me I can’t. I shouldn’t ( Ian) I take myself out at 6 am for a walk. With my camera. It’s so quiet and peaceful and I think I’m alone as I walk along the cruise liner dock. Alas. I have heavy breathing down my neck. May I suggest that If you are going to get that close at least introduce yourself first. No. I’m not in luck. It’s early morning joggers. Sounding like they are having an asthma attack. I curse not going on that first aid course when I was working. But the kiss of life to my colleagues was seriously unappealing and I was told that I couldn’t pick and choose. So I declined. Though I did have a card that said CPR to me could only to be given by ……..
hello. early morning joggers
The only other thing that’s moving is the slowly emerging cruise liner creeping silently into the harbour. Magnificent in its beauty. It’s quieter than my jogging buddies. Moves more elegantly. Actually faster than one of them. I’ve never been a fan of running. Not for excercise. Not for the bus. Maybe to catch the last tub of Hageen das pralines and cream. Otherwise there will be another bus.
a cruise. never ever.
The ocean liner ( sounds More romantic ) glides into dock. We’ve often wondered about a cruise. But I’m not sure. We were at a quayside in New Zealand as the passengers descended. . That put me off. Thousands of them. All off the boat for the obligatory tour. Marshalled off. Marshalled onto buses. Mmm. I would feel a row coming on. And not just between me and Ian.
Ian arrives – earlier than expected – tired after New York but raring to go and wander around the city. Ive been up since 5.30’and awake most of the night anyway. I wasn’t so keen. But we did. Vancouver is glorious. Has a great feel to it. Even when your tired.
We walked. And walked. And walked. But like any city in any country you can be admiring things of great beauty and one wrong turning you are on the ‘ wrong’ side of the street. A friendly guy stopped us at the traffic lights. If I were you he said. Turn right. Not left. That side of the street is not for you. He was right. We live in London. Homelessness is a visual reminder in central London. But this area was something else. It’s tragic. Everyone has a story to tell. Someone’s child. Someone’s sibling. Someone’s parent. Insane things that made me sad for them. Not me. I’m a very lucky person. I know that. But drugs I just don’t understand. Seeing someone inject in front of you disturbing. The guy who directed us was also homeless but his kindness was awesome.
We took a dinky little ferry boat out to Granville Island where there is an amazing market. I noticed the guy at the wheel had a cracking cut on the bridge of his nose. I recognise it..I’m reminded of waking up with a similar cut decades ago. With two black eyes. People still try and rib the ‘dirty mark off my nose today. – the market. Trendy. Wholesome. Organic like the carrots. And tourists. Some looked orgasmic. And organic.
granville island market
I tricked Ian into a pic. It was our anniversary but still I don’t know how I managed. Of course we had wished each other happy day – well more like a taxi driver grunt – than a formal acknowledgment. Neither are big on celebratory gestures. We are still together 25 years later. There’s been better there’s been worse. But we are still here. And retirement suits me. Suits us both.
ha. nearly caised a row
We wandered the streets. We walked coal harbour Marina. Saw yachts. And more yachts. We walked through Stanley Park. We contemplated bicycles. They looked nice. But to be honest they didn’t have any with stabilisers. Or padded seats. Or with a chauffeur. So we walked. Everywhere. Oh yea. To gas town. To china town.
We were trumped in Gastown
Spitting image or the real thinghair today gone tomorrow
Oh how I wanted that wig tho to be fair there were a fair few I could have borrowed at the hotel. If I’d asked nicely. The trump wig. Not Hilary.
Also why are some guests so LOUD. Breakfast should be reflective. I don’t want to know about Kitty’s labour. Her third divorce. Her plastic surgeon. Oh. And Bob. He works so hard. Huh.
Though one very nice guest (LOUD) said to Ian at breakfast. Gee. I love those shoes. Just as well he’s a confident guy. You’d have to be. All heads turned. Yes they are nice. – he should have told her Clarks. street. In the sale.
She could have been quieter like our friends daughter who is also here on holiday who we met in the bar for drinks. She too liked his shoes .
So we do another museum. Another Picasso exhibition more art. Picasso and his muses. The dialogue at times more interesting. I’m not a huge fan. I like it. But I’m not mad for it. Good exhibition but at $24 entrance you had to get your money’s worth. A great exhibition though by courtesy of the artist Bharta Kerr Mater and Hauser & Wirth was my favourite. Funny that. Hauser & Wirth who are ten minutes from the cottage in Somerset.
Bharta Kerr Mater
And no. It’s no me with a MUN. ( man bun to the uninitiated). But it could be. Only from the back. Maybe not. I do need to lose a few pounds.
Shall we walk to Stanley Park?. Why not – it’s only roasting out there. What about bikes do they have padded seats. No. Then we will walk. Which we did. A fabulous park right on the city doorstep. A rose garden – going over – of 3,500 bushes. Still smelling. Well like roses. A dead headers nightmare. One for the under gardener I think. The cyclists use the cycle lanes. Unlike London where they do not.
I love people watching – some people call it being nosey. Hands up! Guilty. But look – a bride waiting for a husband. Not it’s not me. Alone on a park bench. A story waiting to be told. She is beautiful
A colourful man on a chopper. Well it looked like a chopper. Hands high. Bottom low. I was in awe of his t shirt. In a larger size obviously. I always wanted a chopper.
So we wandered and wandered. And wandered. 11 miles that day. 8 the day before. Fitbit challenged. Knackered in plain English. Oh and we saw totem poles.
Now we are heading for Vancouver island. A ferry crossing. On a large ferry. Walking around the decks I realise that you know what. I ain’t ever going on a cruise. I couldn’t throw a wobbly and storm off. Well I could but I’d either get lost. Or wet. But Horseshoe Bay is lovely.
The temperature has dipped 6* since the ferry docked and we are now awaiting ferry number 2. It’s been a long day. A nice drive to a mid way point of Thursday’s destination.
So we check in to hotel number too. On a small Island…..and ask for a different room. That doesn’t happen very often. But this time it did. A nicer room. Quieter. Not so dark. Sitting on the balcony we are greeted by two passers by. How was the fishing today Good catch.? We only arrived today we replied. The fishing conversation continues. I mean. Do either of us look like we are fishermen – Ian quietly says to me. ‘I really don’t think this is the place to wear my blue shoes to dinner this evening do you? ”No I replied ‘ and I don’t think I will be ordering those blousey cocktails I had last night either! ‘
Encouraged by my lovely friend sara I have once again looked at Instagram. When I first looked. I didn’t get it. At all. So armed with a new camera I am posting a lot of holiday pics on there. So if your already bored of GBBO and X factor it’s under Pitcombe123
So….. The next few days may be bears and whales. Or bare whales. Or rain. Of which it is chucking it down. I may have webbed feet by the time I return. After Thursday we will be incommunicado for 3/4 days. No wifi. No mobile. No tv. No social media. Just old fashioned talking. Oh and Limited unscented toiletries at an eco lodge somewhere in an estuary having taken a seaplane for an hour with limited luggage. I won’t even smell nice. I’m glad we bought some thermals yesterday tho. May be cold sitting on that boat or in that hide. Getting wet.
Will I finally find the answer as to what bears do in the woods?
So. Mr taxi man had no tip. He grunted when he removed my case and that was it. No have a nice flight. No where are you going. I don’t think I had a thank you when I handed over my cash. No talkee. No tippee.
A smooth check in. And the nice lady gave me a paper ticket to Wave as I got on. A wander around duty free. I don’t really get duty free. People buying things they don’t really need. Or have forgotten to pack- which is usually me. . Well at least I will smell nice as I leave the terminal. Everyone wants to get you to test their new and fabulous perfumes. Some smell fantastic. Others smell like well. They smell. Once again I think of my mother. Not that she smelt awful. Never. But she would have remarked it smelt like a tarts boudoir. Quite how my prim and proper mother would know how one would smell always surprised me.
I refrained from purchasing anything. Not even yet another moisturiser from Keilhs to add to the 46 we already have.Well nothing other than a big fat breakfast 3 flat whites and a Diet Coke. Somehow the Diet Coke made it feel ok for the breakfast. At 4pm. On a Friday. The one thing I miss in retirement. A big fat breakfast at the Docklands diner.
Well you just have toAs usual my flight is delayed. Everyone’s fault. Baggage handlers. Air traffic control. It was delayed by 20 mins this morning even before I left home.
It’s A long walk to the gate. The gates go to number 42. Yes. My gate is the furthest away. The slow walk on the moving pavement. Are they really necessary? Then the queue to get on. Why? I don’t know. Unlike sleazy jet or rhino air we all have allocated seats. It’s not a free for all. A bun fight. We have seats. I’ve got to like budget airlines. Especially Ryan air who let you have two carry on bags.
Then why am I like a rat up a drain pipe at the off and first through the barriers like Eusian Bolt in a rush. But there is a bonus when I settle myself down in my seat. Parked ( is that the right word) next to my flight is the Olympic carrier with a gold nose. Unlike my nose which is red as its pressed right up against the window. In awe.
I know it’s just a plane. But it’s not any old plane. it’s the plane that carried all those athletes I stayed up half the night for.
The Golden Nosewhat a joy. A painted gold nose. Right next to my flight. Most people were oblivious. Too busy stuffing oversized bags into overhead lockers. Arguing with their travel companions. Fiddling with the entertainment system. This is history though. Take a look. A picture. I did and sent it to as many people as I could. Who knows what haul Tokyo will bring. By then I’ll have my over 60 oyster travel pass. Free travel on London transport. Boy. I’m gonna make use of it.
But when your sat waiting to leave you need to look around. Especially to see who is sitting next to you. Hurrah! No one. I have a 9.5 HR flight with no one beside me. No one in front of me. Leg room for my short stumpy legs. And not that awful seat in rows 68 next to the toilet.
I have few phobias. Snakes is my biggest. Started when I nearly stepped on a sunbathing adder on the walk to the beach in Wales. And plane toilets. I try and avoid the toilet on a flight. Short haul is fine. Try doing that in a flight to New Zealand. Impossible. I have a fear. No. Not of getting sucked down into the depths of the plane when flushing.- an urban myth. Not leaving to a queue outside tapping their feet because you’ve been in there for an age. But a fear of toilet doors on planes . Decades ago as a young inexperienced traveller there was an incident. An embarrassing incident. Well embarrassing for me. Hilarious for others. I didn’t lock the door. Not properly. Sat with my trousers around my ankles when the plane hit bad turbulence. Door jolted open. I was the entertainment. So forgive me fellow travellers. I now take an age. Just locking. And checking. And locking again.
So. It takes an hour to taxi on the runway. There are 10’flights behind us . The M25 for planes. Except larger gaps between vehicles, no overtaking and no runway rage. Ooh I wish I had s secret camera. The cheeky couple trying to blag an upgrade. They don’t. The man shouting at his wife over his headphones to get him another wine as she sneaks into business class to go ” to the loo’. Yep. Same couple. I suspect I should nip in there. I’d get a better class of viewer should the loo door fail again.
I didn’t sleep. At all. 9.5 hrs. No sleep. For fear of snoring like a snorting pig and no Ian to nudge me in the way that only he can. In disgust. Because he never snores. Huh. Or dribbles and wakes with a creased face.
I get quizzed at immigration. How long am I staying. What do I want to see. I mumble and she asks again what my plans are. Why do I feel quilty. I’ll tell you why. It’s 3am uk time. 7 pm Canadian. I’ve been up since 6am. I haven’t slept. I’ve sprinted to get through passport control. I barely know where I’m headed now least of all what I have planned for the next two weeks. I mumble Gardens. Botanical. Museums. I mumble Vancouver island. Fishing she asks. I nod. I can’t be bothered to explain that I hadn’t travelled all this way to fish. I eat fish. Which I buy. Not catch. She scribbles on my immigration card and waves me through. I suspect the numbers she writes mean something. Like tosser. But let him in.
All that was worth it though. Met by a glorious sun getting lower in the sky welcoming me to Vancouver as I take a cab to the hotel. Tired. Knowing I’ll have to explain that yes the bookings in Ian’s name. And no he’s not with me. And no it’s not a pretty woman type of check in. Do I like a hooker. Don’t answer that. Because I’m tired. And I look like ….,
Tomorrow will be another day and the start of the holiday proper.
So. Ian’s been on New York on business. I’ve been in London in the dreadful heat. Nothing quite like a heatwave in London in August. We just aren’t equipped. Not in our houses our shops or on public transport. I’m not averse to a bit of hot and sweaty but not on the underground. The overground is better. Great air con. But I only go 3 stops.
Ian leaves New York tomorrow and I’m on the start of my journey to Vancouver to meet up with him for a bit of a holiday. Well if I get to the airport. Bank holiday Friday in a cab where the driver hasn’t spoken for 40 mins. No talkee. No tippee. Rule no 1. I don’t want to know yr life story. But a hello or even a grunt wouldn’t go amiss. Just to let me know your human.
The M4 is a bit like a carpark. Hot. Miserable. A Mass of grumpy drivers. But looks like I’m doing my usual thing of arriving early. I’ve checked in. Booked my seat but don’t like that the boarding pass is on my phone. I am old fashioned and like a bit of paper that I can wave about when boarding. But I don’t. I also won’t have a stomach if this driver doesn’t stop braking sharply. I wonder if he will talk if I am actually sick.
So. There will be photos. I hope lots. So I can try out my new camera. The one Ian said I didn’t need. But the one I wanted. And bought. Ian is the king of planning holidays. Be they long weekends or longer breaks. Hopefully this one will not be any different. Bears and whales are on the menu. Not the eating menu of course that would be just wrong on every level. But on a tourist menu. In a rain forest. On Vancouver island. I just hope I’m not on theirs. I’ve practiced running or just playing dead. A bit like the cab driver. Lifeless.
I may survive the flight in a seaplane. People have been winding me up. ‘ have you ever been in a seaplane’ no. Ooh. They reply. Let’s see if I can do it Without being sick or needing clean pants. Of which I have plenty. As my mother always said – make sure you have clean pants on in case you get knocked down. Mother i would reply. “Don’t worry. If I get knocked down they won’t be clean” getting knocked down won’t be the only accident.
But first I need to get to the airport. I can see planes. Queuing above us on the motorway. Hopefully later that will be me. We are now within spitting distance of the terminal. One hour later and still no grunt from the cab man.
I’ll let you know when I get to the other side. It will be a long trip. Bit like this cab journey really.
Its funny looking back at old photos. Earlier this year we sold the family house. My parents had moved there after the war. Had brought up three children and it is where I was born. In the front room. So it was a bit of a wrench – but Mum had died 2 years earlier and Dad was in a nursing home and sadly died in Jan aged 95.
Mum and Dad kept all of their photos. Lots and lots of photos but rarely put them into albums. Many were kept in an old Chocolate box. A very old fashioned large Cadburys box. This housed their favourite photos.
It took us ages to clear the house but just as long going through the old photos. Some people we couldn’t and didn’t recognise. How I wished my parents had written a brief note on the back. Some I didn’t want to remember. Those of me! How I had changed. Days of having hair for one. Days of innocence. A smile here. A happy face there!
So forgive me. This is a self indulgent blog. A really self indulgent one and for me a way or recording some of those photos. I have many more. Stuffed in boxes in my attic. A job that many of you will know is on my retirement list. Along with the cellar. That’s for another week. In the winter.
The earliest I found was a picture of me sitting with my Dad on the front doorstep. I’d like to say I remember. But I don’t. I must be 3 maybe? I don’t have the same cheeky smile these days. To be fair I don’t smile that often.
With my Dad on the doorstep
So I got taken to see Father Xmas each year. I haven’t been in a few years now but I still have a duffle coat. Hanging on the back of the door at the cottage. Not the original as that would be silly. But a larger one.
In later years I would dress up as father Xmas at my teams Xmas party. To hand out the secret Santa gifts to my colleagues. I think I was a more realistic Santa. Oh. And we had colour photographs by then.
Who temembers school photos. I spend ages looking through this one trying to put names to faces. I could place many and occasionally look at it when I remember someone’s name and try and fit the name to the picture. Names different to those in my god children’s classes these days. Sandra. Susan. Nicholas. Steven. Stephen. Martin. Yvonne. Sally. Vivienne. Elizabeth. Not names of today of India – Brooklyn – willow – Apple. Oh. I met Elizabeth a few years ago whilst visiting my parents. We were both in the local butchers. Both Older. She was talking to the butcher who we had both been at school with. A gifted musician at school he joined the family business. ‘ I won’t be in tomorrow she said. I’m in court. Me. Big foot. Small mouth. ‘ ha. Some things don’t change then Liz’ I said. She’d been a difficult child though never in trouble. She gave that withering look I remembered. Actually I’m a JP she retorted. Oops!
This is from another group school photo. I wish my parents had made a note of the dates – I have no idea of how old i was. I certainly couldn’t wear stripes these days. Not suitable for a man of my height and weight!
It’s good to see that I liked tank tops even then. I love this photo. A cheeky grin. A bit of a pose. And a knitted tank top. Made by my mother. In later years my colleagues would take the p when I wore similar to the office. Not knitted though. I never did find any of me in the 70s. With flares. And couloured knitted tank tops. In hoops.
Smiley in a tank topSlightly older – still a bit serious.
Oh dear. Moody teenager – dark baggy circles under my eyes. I’d like to say that it was because of a heavy night out but I was about 12. That i suspect is not the case. I am more inclined to say hayfever. Not my best look. But to be fair. There are some far far worse in the 90s
a bit Grange Hill
Do I look like a future pen pusher in this? I love how they took the school photos in the 60s. I look as if I had pixie ears too. No. They haven’t been fixed but the years of sleeping on them has maybe flattened them! Pixie earswith my mother at my cousins wedding .
A wedding where the ladies still wore hats!
Good to see that I liked a polo neck back then too. Don’t think I’d get away with mustard these days.though. Black all the way.
So it went down hill after these younger school boy days. I grew hair. Got spots. That hair was real. My mother permed her hair. My sister and I straightened ours. I thought it was cool. Really. I did. My father called it Gulbert Osullivan. My mother Leo Sayer. Go ask your parents if your young.
I then thought I had also found fashion. Hey I thought I was cool. That was how bad a judge I was back then.
What was I thinking. You can’t see the shoes thankfully. I loved that polo neck. Another mustard colour. And the starsky and hutch cardigan. Suited me along with the sheepskins seat covers on the car. What happened to car seat covers?
Evidence I still like a polo neck. I’d also like more hair.
Oh dear. Those shorts were short. What was I thinkimg? Gawd. I was thin. Now I look like Ive eaten this person.
In the first picture I’m not sure if I think I’m Magnum Pi. My attempt at Tom Selleck. The second is a pretty mean ‘tache. And that was before Movember was ever though of. Ha. Now it would be a mix of ginger and grey. If I could even grow one.
So began my Broke Back mountain phase. I rode twice a week at least. Jumped. On the horse naturally. If there was going to be a naughty horse I’d pick it. A few sepctaular falls. Now you’d need a shire horse for me. With enormous assistance to saddle up. And to get on & off. And walk afterwards.
So there we are. A record for me of some of the earlier photos we found at my parents. With some dodgy ones I found too. The really bad ones will remain covered for another day.
Have I told you that I have retired? Ok. I have. On more than one occasion I know. Well I’m still getting used to it – it’s nearly 9 months now. How fast time goes when your having fun
When I retired I decided that once a week I would have a day off. A day off Ian remarked. Surely every day is a day off now. Ha. I said. Look at the list you’ve drawn up. Septic tank. Boiler service. Alarm service. Flood gate service. Garden. Weed. Tidy. Check this. Cancel that. ( please don’t mention the attic or the cellar. That’s winter work) I’ve enough to keep me busy for months.
That and school runs. Courses. Jeremy Kyle and Tipping point. I need a day off all duties and it’s called Me time. So I rebelled and I have. Well not every week but some of them. In London I go to galleries. To lunches with friends and ex colleagues. Who happen to also be friends. I walk. Have coffee at my favourite coffee places. Breakfast at greasy spoons. Alone sometimes. With friends other days. But it’s always what I want to do. Selfish. Me. For those days. Yes.
In Somerset it’s been lovely to visit villages and places that I haven’t been to for a while. Or for some not at all – which – having been here 22 years is a bit shocking. There are places still on this years list. I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t been to the garden at Hauser & Wirth this summer. It’s a glorious prairie garden designed by Piet Oudolf and is only a 5 minute drive away. Shocking. There’s also a fab gallery and the great Roth Bar and Grill
Last year at Hauser & Wirth
So today I have had a lovely trip to Bradford on Avon. A short drive from the cottage but we were last there over 10 years ago on a wet and miserable Sunday where there was little open. I know it was over 10 years ago as it was pre two god children and we were there with their parents. All I remembered was this cute tea rooms The Bridge Tea Rooms in the centre of the town where we ate cake in damp clothes. It still looks exactly the same. Well it would really given the age of the building! – former blacksmiths cottage c1502. Previously we didn’t see the canal. Or the Tithe Barn. We saw very little now come to think of it. Except clotted cream. Scones and some sandwiches. Oh. And rain.
The Bridge Tea Rooms
The tourist attraction for the town is the canals. I’m not sure a canal holiday is for me to be honest. Enclosed in a small place with nowhere to go if I had a hissy fit. Which I have been known to have every now and then. Nowhere to stomp off to. But everyone seemed happy and smiley as they worked the boats. And the locks. Those amazing inventions. I’m sure we’d have a few rows with those. And the directions. We have usually had at least two before we navigate out if the car park at the airport. God help us on canals. I don’t suppose they have sat nag? Do they.
Canal Barges
Made me think of my mother. She had a saying ‘ oh. He has feet like canal barges’ – seeing these today made me think of that!
Even the dog looked cntent.
There’s a fab old Tithe hall. Beautifully crafted. Gorgeous light. Stunning open space. A 14c monastic stone barn. You couldn’t use it for dancing tho. The floor is too uneven and ridged in parts – so no dancing – especially in heels. Which I wasn’t wearing. Obviously.
It’s amazing how these structures are still standing and thankfully this is grade 1 listed. Looked after by English Heritage so it will be around longer than me.
You don’t go to Bradford in Avon to shop. If you want coffee or cake then that’s fine. Or to eat. Or more coffee. There are lots of coffee shops. lots of eating places. But there again there are lots of tourists. But it’s not packed out. Well not today anyway.
Lovely light & flowers in the alleyway
There are cute views. Small little alleyways. With a plant here and there.
There are narrow streets – the type I drove down unintentionally in Spain breathing in and praying I met nothing coming toward me. It worked. I didn’t. But I realised at the end it was a one way street. I may have or I may not have uttered a few swear words as I drove through.
Gorgeous views. The friend I was with likened it to Bath. Without the madness. The crowds & the high street shops. Which isn’t a bad thing.
She’s right. I will be back. And before another ten years.
Last week I ventured somewhere new. I had heard about it from friends. From Facebook posts. From witters on Twitter. But had never been. Shame on me. I was taken to lunch at The Walled Garden Mells
Tables near the cafe
A fab place for lunch. A great garden. Awesome pizzas and great quiche and the delight of a scone and cream. Jam first. Of course. There are lots of lovely sitting areas. It’s fab.
I don’t want you to think I’m entirely selfish and exclude Ian! We do manage to do some days out together. We have been making the most of our National Trust membership. This month we have visited Lytes Cary Manor a nice (ish) Manor House but I was more impressed with the borders in the garden and the lovely allotments.
Moody shot of the house
Fabulous allotments
We also returned to another we hadn’t visited for a while Stourhead
It’s such a lovely house and garden. We decided to give Kylie a run out and to walk around the lake. Just us not Kylie.
Kylie
The walk around the grounds is stunning and I wished we had taken a picnic to sit by the lake and take it all in. But we didn’t. So managed a takeaway tea and a sarnie. To be fair it wasn’t bad at all.
So it’s been a good few weeks. I’ve visited The BP portrait exhibition in London. Twice. Because once is never enough. I liked it more the second time and I had a few favourites.
There were some I didn’t get & some I liked more than others.
So the rest of the month is busy but with no days out. We have our annual river clearance coming up where for one day and one day only each year I don waders and long gloves and with the village people ( better phrased – people of the village- before you think Indian headdress leather chaps don’t really work in water) clear the river of debris and crap. Not your actual crap. That stopped flowing in the river years ago.
River Pitt – the river. The old bridge and the Heron
Then it’s off on our annual holidays! Together. Where no doubt there will be photos. And a bit of a blog.
Gardens. Travel. Life. 