Wereham to Chester, via Cambridge

I was awake at 7.20, when Lynda brought me a cup of tea. I had a piece of toast for breakfast and was ready to go at 8.30. Dave dropped me at the park and ride to the north of the city and I got the bus into town. I asked at the bus station about left luggage and they didn't have any facilities, so I walked (with my bag) to the tourist office and they said the only left luggage was at the train station. I checked out their brochures then had a walk (with my bag) to have a quick look at King's College and the backs. After that, I only had time to go to W.H. Smith to get a Cambridgeshire road atlas before I had to hightail it back to the bus station. I ate a muesli bar, went to the toilet, and got on the bus. I got the second seat on the left, but moved behind the driver after St Neots, when a woman got off there.

The bus went via Bedford, Northampton, Coventry, and Daventry on the way to Birmingham. Bedford looked much smaller and more ordinary than I had imagined; Northampton was just uninteresting. Coventry was a bit weird with church spires sticking through a predominantly modern landscape and sad bag ladies walking on roundabouts. Daventry was so forgettable that I can't remember much about it.

The bus pulled into Birmingham bus station at about 3.45. On the way in, I had thought that it didn't look too bad - nicer than Manchester anyway. The bus station was open at each end and deathly cold. It was also very ugly and full of strange people. I got on the Birkenhead bus at 4.15 and drove through the maze of overpasses and underpasses and the foul industrial wasteland that is the north. No, I don't want to live in Birmingham.

We stopped in Stafford, which didn't look too bad, and Crewe, which also looked quite good. I had only ever had one quick trick to Crewe train station. The bus arrived in Chester quite early at about 6.40 and Derek came along a few minutes later to pick me up.

Brancaster

I was up by 9am this time and walked into the kitchen just as Lynda was making me a cup of tea to bring up. I had some nice grainy toast and some potato cakes for breakfast and we were all packed up in the car to leave at about 11.15. We had decided to go if the weather was good, and it had been first thing, but by 11 it had clouded over. We set off regardless, using small, winding back lanes, ending up in Brancaster after about an hour. The area is completely undeveloped - there is just a town, then a mile of road, a car park and one building. It's wonderfully desolate - a wide sandy beach with a wreck out on the sand bar, but a few dozen people walking their dogs at the same time.

Lynda took out plastic toys on ropes that she threw for the dogs. They were running like maniacs - particularly Daisy - and getting nice and wet and sandy. It was very cold, but not too windy, so was quite pleasant with a bit of a walk on. Andrew was having a great time and started to talk to me while collecting shells. We ate our rolls in the car surrounded by the delicious smell of wet dog and then headed back home. Once there, we had hot chocolate and Andrew had a bath, then we watched traditional father-son Sunday afternoon TV shows - Stargate SG-1, Star Trek, Scrappy Car Rally, and Time Team.

Lynda made a delicious dinner of avocado, mozzarella and tomato salad, along with smoked salmon, jacket potato and green salad. We didn't have any wine with dinner, just juice - it was lovely. Lynda brought out some really smelly French brie-style cheese. I tried some, but probably wouldn't try it again. We watched a really bad show on TV called Supernatural and Dave cracked the wine open. I declined but agreed to a glass of damson vodka. It wasn't as good as Derek's damson gin. We went to bed at about 10.30, after a shower.

Wereham and Ely

I had warned Lynda that I would probably sleep in, and I didn't disappoint her. I was awake at 9am but didn't get up until 10, when Lynda brought me a cup of tea and needed something out of my room. I had cereal for breakfast and Dave taught me the dangers of the dishwasher.

Lynda took Andrew to a birthday party in the forest with bikes, and Dave started chainsawing firewood. I had a walk in the village, which is lovely, and then spent some time on their broadband. Lynda came home at about 2pm, I made myself some lunch (another wrap) and we headed off to Ely. She had to do some shopping, and so we agreed to meet at the cathedral at 4/4.15. I walked towards the river, only finding one real estate agent with no rental properties. The river was lovely, with lots of narrowboats, and a bridge, and ducks and swans. There was duck food on sale at the Maltings and lots of families walking around. I read about the Ely eels on a tourist board.

I walked back up the other side of Waterside St to the town, finding one estate agent with good cheap rent, one other with expensive rent, and signs on properties for two other agents I couldn't find shopfronts for. By now it was 4pm so all the agents were closing and the markets were packing up. I had one more search for the elusive Keeley Associates and Whitfield Group but with no luck. I was quite annoyed that I'd run out of time, but I went to meet Lynda, unsure whether I was supposed to pay an admission charge to get in to the cathedral. I crept in without doing so, thinking that Lynda would never have come in if she'd had to pay. I found her near the shop, and she went to the cafe to get us cuppas while I had a quick walk around the cathedral. It really is absolutely enormous with beautiful pale stone and gorgeous stained windows. I didn't take very much time but I thought I'd probably have another chance. We drank our cuppas and were booted out at closing time.

We walked back past Waitrose to the car and drove to the house of the friend of Andrew's whose birthday it was. We went inside, had a chat and took Andrew and his friend home to Downham Market. Back at home, we found Dave absolutely exhausted after his day of cutting wood and excavating the back yard. Andrew had a little friend Harry stay the night. I went and did some more work on the net. I submitted my registration with Reed and investigated both Keeley Associates (the 1 Waterside property was actually three storeys and was £600 per month), and Whitfield Group (all were too expensive).

Lynda made up a wonderful Indian feast complete with naan and chappattis, which was very delicious. Dave opened the bottle of red I'd bought them (after the obligatory glass of champagne) and we had a fun night. I went to bed after midnight again, after eliminating all cities on the map for work possibilities, with Dave and Lynda's help.

Admin in Cambridge, then to Wereham, Norfolk

I was up in time to get dressed and to breakfast by 8.30. I ordered boiled eggs and they were much nicer than the ones in Cornwall. The women were very keen to make sure I was happy. I packed up, checked out, left my bag with them for the day, got directions to the bus stop, and headed out. The bus stop was around the corner and the citi 3 bus took a while to come. I saw a bit of the suburbs before getting off near the bus station. I turned left in the main street and immediately went in search of employment agencies and real estate agents.

I found eight employment agencies and took their cards and jotted down the best way to register. I found a few estate agents but only a couple had rentals. The prices for all but the shares were shocking. I bought a paper and had a quick walk around the shopping streets before I had to find the bus stop. It took a while to find the right place to get the right bus and to work out where I wanted to go back to (der!). I eventually worked it out with two bus drivers and got back to Oakley Lodge at about 12.30. Dave was supposed to pick me up at 12.45 but was delayed until 1.30. I got my bag and waited in the foyer. It was a clear day and very cold, but the sun through the window was toasty.

Dave found it eventually and drove me home to their house - Crown House in Wereham, north of Ely. We had a cup of tea and I met the dogs, Luke and Daisy. Dave went back to work in his office, and I set about making some lunch in the unfamiliar kitchen. I then sat down in the lounge room with my diary and the paper.

Lynda and Andrew came home not long after and Andrew played Warhammer with his friends. Lynda made a cup of tea and we chatted. Lynda went to make dinner so Dave and I chatted - well, I interrogated him about the internet and how best for me to connect. We had yummy tuna steaks for dinner and vegetables, after some champagne. Dave opened some red too, and lit the fire. We must have just chatted and drank after dinner. It was a fairly late night.

Cardiff castle, and to Cambridge via London

I woke up a bit before 8 and had my shower. I got to the breakfast room in the nick of time and had egg, sausage, and bacon and toast, with some interesting tinned tomato. I packed up my gear and checked out, asking the woman to keep my bag until 2.30.

I left at about 9.15 and took some photos on the way. I got to the College after 9.30 but Mel didn't arrive until at least 9.45. Tas was supposed to come with us but she was sleeping off the night before. So we headed to the castle on our own and bought a ticket for the 10.45 tour, costing me £6.50. We had time to kill so we went up the keep first, being careful on the steps, peering out of the arrow slits and savouring the view at the top. Mel pointed out the Anthony Hopkins Centre near the College. He had studied there - I had no idea he was even Welsh. We went back down and wandered, reading all the signs outside explaining our surroundings. Then it was time for our tour, so we went up the appropriate steps and waited at the appropriate place. Dave sent me a message at this point.

A woman met us for the tour - we were the only ones apart from two Korean girls. We were taken through a procession of obsessively detailed rooms in gothic and medieval style. The banquet hall in particular was amazing, with a small gallery up the top for musicians. I suggested to Mel that she persuade the College to hold concerts there, and the guide said that the castle had housed the College at one point. The whole place had belonged to the second Marquis of Bute, who had made his fortune in coal mining. When his son inherited it, he set about decorating it in a medieval style, being obsessed with it. The fifth Marquis of Bute moved out and donated the whole castle to the city in 1949, but taking their removable belongings back to Scotland. Apparently the family had only ever spent a few weeks a year there anyway.

Then the second-last room we went into was pure Jane Austen 18th century. It was absolutely disorienting to walk from a medieval room to that. The children's day nursery was also incredible, with tiles detailing all of the nursery rhymes. The library was also beautiful, with stained glass alcoves. It was an amazing tour. From there Mel and I went down to the tea rooms underneath which had a curved wooden ceiling. I think it used to be the kitchens. I had Welsh tea, Mel had hot chocolate and we both had some free Welsh delicacies - one a flat scone with fruit in it ('Welsh cake'?) and the other was fruit cake soaked in tea. They were both rather nice.

We then went to explore the grounds a bit further and came to the birds of prey enclosure. They fascinated me immediately but my photos make them look like they're stuffed. We went to walk on and I spotted a man flying one of the birds on a line. We went over and I said hello and asked him about the birds. The one he had wasn't terribly interested in flying, but he offered to show us the rest as well. There was Floyd the eagle owl, who was slightly grumpy and kept making a rather indignant squawk.

There was a falcon at the front on the right whose name I've forgotten but who was a cross between a Merlin and a Peregrin. He was nice, but couldn't hunt very well because his size was more Merlin than Peregrin. Then at the back in the middle was Madam but I can't remember what type she was. She was quite large with a surprisingly wide wingspan. she was mottled brown. In front of her was Billy the barnowl who had had a broken wing. The guy had set it, but it still sat lower than the other. As a result, he can't fly very far. Then there was Dad at the back on the left who was very dark brown with a much more hawky beak, though I can't remember what breed he is. He was a very good hunter and actually belongs to the guy. In front of Dad was Smudge, who was a beautiful and very lively kestrel. I liked him the most because he had the most personality and kept flapping his wings. Now I look at the bird book, though, I think his markings are more female than male. Hmmm.

Then we went into the military museum and looked around. We had our imaginations captured particularly by the display about the goat mascots for Welsh regiments. There were heads mounted on the wall from Taffy I, Taffy II, etc., and some were just skulls or horns. We found it hilarious that they had received medals. Apparently the tradition began because a goat had once warned about the approach of an enemy. They had served in many countries and were highly thought of. One of the Taffys had a particular weakness for eating cigarettes and so was rewarded with one every now and again. There was a model of a marking band that was interesting, and a few Australian relics. Then the guy there waylaid us and gave us a lesson on goats, Japanese culture and whirlygigs that they used to put women in as a punishment. He also told us that Mel just happens to live across the road from the current barracks which houses the current goat mascot at the rank of colonel. Mel thought it funny, as did I, that this goat was ranked higher than James. We went to the gift shop to find goat memorabilia but alas there was none. We really enjoyed our castle adventure anyway.

As time was disappearing rapidly, we walked down into the shopping mall (which is quite nice) and got wraps from Boots for lunch and ate them on seats nearby. We saw some interesting fashions walk past. Then we only had time to walk to the guesthouse to retrieve my luggage, then on to the bus station before I had to get on my bus and say goodbye to Mel. I'll go back there to see a concert or two and I'll have Mel visit me when I settle somewhere.

I got the front seat of the coach even though I hadn't got my boarding pass from the Nat Express office (how was I supposed to know?) first off. The trip to London was quite long. We stopped at Newport, then over the Severn Bridge again (I got my camera out this time). I don't think we stopped anywhere else, so straight on to Earl's Court (the traffic was frightful) and then to London Victoria. I had a revolting pasty for dinner and had a reasonably short wait for the Cambridge bus, since the traffic had made us late. I got on the Cambridge bus on the front seat with a small number of other people and was treated to a nice drive-by of the Thames all the way from MI6 at Vauxhall to Tower Hill. The lights were beautiful and the Eye was running and lit up.

We made a stop or two around Stratford and then headed north through the inky blackness to Cambridge. We arrived just after 9pm, having made a stop at Trumpington park and ride. I got off and made straight for the taxi rank, asking the guy to take me to Oakley Lodge. It was a shortish journey but still cost me over £6. I checked in, extremely exhausted by then, met the dogs, paid, and was shown to my room. I had a shower, watched a little bit of TV, and went to bed at around 11.

Plymouth to Cardiff

I was up at about 8am and had my shower and breakfast. I packed up most of my gear and got the bus back into the city, noticing the pub near Mike's place called the Skiving Scholar.

Once there, I went straight to HMV and picked up Importance of Being Ernest for £18 (rather expensive, I thought). I didn't bother about going to the Body Shop, but I did a quick search at the internet cafe for Cambridge B&Bs. Then I bought band aids, chips, and proper muesli bars at Tesco's, spoke to Lloyds about my cheque book, and picked up a twister from KFC.

I got the bus back to Lower Compton Road, having eaten my lunch, and finished packing up. I left the DVD and wrote a card to Anne, and took a photo of Barney the sweet cat. I walked out the door at 12 pm and stuck the key back through the mail slot. I took a photo of the house and walked up Mannamead Rd with my bag. I got the bus with no problems and walked around from Royal Parade to the bus station. I got there at about 12.35 but there was already a big line-up for the bus to Bristol.

I got a seat three back from the front on the left (with the driver's gear on the front seat) and managed to look over the head of the guy at the front. The trip was nice with lots of steep grassy fields, and we came into Bristol under the suspension bridge and along the river which was nice. Bristol looked quite nice on the way through. There are some parts I hadn't got to on foot.

I found the right stand for the Cardiff bus at the bus station and called Cambridge to book a B&B. I ended up with Oakley Lodge and a double with breakfast for £38. I got the seat behind the driver and the trip to Cardiff was quite nice, particularly the Severn Bridge. We arrived in Cardiff at about 5.25 and I looked at a map at the bus station and discovered that it was a short walk from where I was. I walked up the bus station street and turned right up along the millennium walk to Coldstream Terrace and found the Austin Guesthouse. I moved my things in and watched a bit of TV.

At 7pm I left to find the Welsh College of Music to meet Mel at 7.30. I went past the castle and found the right place and Mel. We said hi to Jordan, who has lost even more weight. Mel and I walked to her house, spoke to James on the phone, and walked to a very good Indian restaurant for dinner. Yum. Mel took th e leftovers for lunch the next day. From there we walked to Jordan's house and met up with Tom, who was frantically looking for two mobile phones and his camera. We watched a bit of Oceans Eleven, and Mel and I headed off. She walked me to another street and pointed me on and went home herself. It was near 11pm by now and I thought I was lost once, when it looked unfamiliar, but I sought directions and headed on my way back to the guesthouse. Jordan had near insisted on walking me back, which worried me a bit, but I had no problems.

I made the mistake of turning the TV on and started watching a good Val Kilmer film that I couldn't switch off. Consequently, I got to bed around 2am.

Launceston

My alarm went off at 7am but I pressed snooze at least once before Anne knocked on the door. Good thing she did, because by the time I'd got dressed, ready and had a cup of tea, I had to dash out the door. As it happened, the bus was about six minutes late, so after waiting at Royal Parade for people to get on and off and getting around the corner, I ran and only just made the Launceston bus, which cost me £5. The trip was very pleasant, and I managed to get off at the right place and find Stella and Susan.

They drove me via the boring motorway route to Trevallet Bungalow and we went inside. We had a cuppa and Christine came over. We looked at some photos, then Christine had to go and Susan made lunch - delicious quiche, salad, jacket potatoes, and prawns. Audrey came and had some lunch then and we went back into the lounge room. We looked through more photos and Stella found the photos of F.A.W. Bennett and his parents. It was amazing to see all of Stella's children and grandchildren and great grandchildren growing up. Especially seeing Jill (Gill?) and her children grow up. I also chatted to Susan about travel and temp work in the UK. She thought that temp work wold be as plentiful in Cambridge as in London.

Audrey went home then and Stella and Susan drove me via a beautiful scenic route (including St Stephens) back to Launceston. From the car park, I got a little look at the town hall clock tower and what was left of Launceston Castle. Launceston looks like a lovely city, a little like Richmond. Stella and Susan saw me onto the bus and we said goodbye. It was a really nice day and I enjoyed seeing everyone.

The bus got back to Plymouth at about 5.30 and I got dropped off in Royal Parade. I looked for a present for Anne but the Body Shop was closed and neither Virgin Megastore nor Woolies had Importance of Being Ernest. I headed back to Lower Compton Road and Nathan was there already. I went upstairs and worked on my diary until Anne got home. We caught up and talked lots about family and she got her paperwork out. We drew up a family tree to try to work out how old Stella and Elizabeth Bennett (Miners) were when they walked together.

Anne made dinner for Nathan and he went out. Dad rang and had a good chat to Anne, and then me, and I asked Dad where Gordon's grave was and the address of Arch's house. Freaky since I was going to ring him to ask him. Anne and I had the last of the roast chicken and then Steve came round after French and we had ice cream. We must have watched some TV, then Steve went home again, having asked me to play for his school students. Anne then went to bed, and I went soon after.

Recovery in Plymouth

I had a massive sleep-in this morning. It was about 10.30 when I got up, after Mum rang me. I had breakfast, cleaned up lots of stuff and did a load of washing. I dried Anne's washing and then my own. I locked up and got a bus into the city, heading directly for Pizza Hut. I had an expensive but delicious pizza for lunch and bought some pens. Then I went to the internet cafe and spent an hour catching up on emails and jobs. I headed back to Lower Compton Road, where I rang O2 and booked buses.

I hung around a bit, then Nathan came home. I hung around some more, then Steve came over. We chatted, then Anne came home. We had more roast chicken for dinner, and TV. Anne insisted I went to bed early for my crack-of-dawn start the next morning. I had a shower first. She had called Stella and set up a visit the next day.

Land's End, Botallack, Cape Cornwall, St Ives, and back to Plymouth

We woke up at 8 with the intention of being on the road early, but by the time we had been spoilt by Corinne and ate our breakfast in the conservatory with the wind howling around us, it was closer to 10 than 9. Unfortunately the weather was as bad as it had been good the day before. We chatted with Corinne about the pirate myth and smuggling, and she even showed us the entrance to the smuggling tunnel to the sea under the house. We ventured out into the wind and headed for Land's End. It was a short trip past the 'First and Last Pub' and the 'First and last bakery'-style shops to the big theme-park-style gates at Land's End. The wind was much worse here - I had to try pretty hard to open the car door.

We walked straight past all the theme park attractions (which didn't look open anyway) to the end. There was a small shelter with information in it that made a very good wind break. It came in very handy as we could only handle the wind in small doses. Visibility to Longships lighthouse was very poor and we had no chance of seeing the Scilly Isles or Wolf lighthouse. We really only took a few foggy photos, tried leaning into the wind a few times, before retreating to calmer ground. We spend some time in the gift shop and then went back to the car.

From there we headed towards Cape Cornwall but missed the hidden turn-off in St Just, so came to Botallack first. We found the right junction on the triangle from the road easily enough, but tried probably three of the roads before we found the right one. Once past the guesthouse and after finding the National Trust sign, it was a fascinating place with remnants of the tin mining era along with amazing scenery. It was very impressive, and a bit drier than at Land's End.

We turned back towards St Just to find Cape Cornwall and headed out there. It was nice with probably some exploring on the headland that could have been done. There was also a rock formation beside the head that had been likened to Charles de Gaulle lying in the bath that was quite amusing. I don't know why they decided on him. We took some photos and headed on. We needed lunch and we wanted an interesting place to stop so we decided on St Ives. The roads there were narrow and winding and unfortunately Mike chose to drive much too fast. I felt quite bad but not sick.

In St Ives, after driving down some quite terrifyingly steep and narrow roads, we had a quick walk and while I fancied a pasty, Mike wanted a roast meal so we went into a cafe, quite nice. I had a white hot chocolate but didn't fancy anything on the menu so I went to get a pasty while the others ate, and had a little walk too. We met back up and drove back to Plymouth, listening to Pirate FM and some great 80s music on the way.

Mike and Katla dropped me at Anne's and she, Steve, and I had dinner - roast chicken I think. We must have watched TV and gone to bed at some stage. I think I watched Friends and Crocodiles which was very good and had Robert Lindsay in it.

Plymouth to Penzance, Mousehole, and St Just

I think my alarm was set for 8am but I hit snooze quite a number of times. I was up and showered and packed well before 10.30, when Mike had said they'd pick me up. Then he said they'd be late - more like 11am. Anne went out before me to go sailing with Steve, and Mike and Katla arrived a bit after 11am and we set off for adventure in Cornwall. We stopped for fuel outside the city and Mike attempted to get on the A38. After some seemingly aimless driving, he managed it, and we went over the Tamar bridge into Cornwall.

It was a beautiful day and the countryside got greener and more hilly as we went. We took a wrong turn after a while and used the opportunity for a snack/toilet break. I got Morrison's toasted teacake. We got back on the road and before too long we got to Marazion and stopped to look at St Michael's Mount. Unfortunately the sun was behind the mount so it was very hard to see the buildings and details, and also unfortunately the tide was on its way in and the causeway was totally covered so we couldn't go out there. It was very beautiful all the same - the weather was still glorious and we had a very nice walk on the beach. It's a beautiful part of the world and I'd love to go back in warmer weather to explore the mount itself. (Note: I found out later that the pronunciation of Marazion is very boring. It is Ma-ra-zi-on, not Ma-ra-zi-on.)

We headed in further to Penzance and had lunch in a horrible greasy takeaway shop. We could still see St Michael's Mount from there. Mike was obsessed with Mousehole (pronounced Mow-sel) and so we went to have a look. It was actually really lovely. They have a beautiful little harbour (with lots of rules) and little fishing boats. They also have a huge Christmas light extravaganza which must cost a bomb. Anne told me that Mousehole is associated heavily with stargazy pie, which has a few different types of fish with their heads and tails pointing heavenward (six years later I would read about this on the wall of the Ship Inn).  There was another little story about the devil coming to the Cornish coast but deciding to stay in Devon for fear of being cooked into a pie.

We kept driving out to St Just, stopping to take some photos of the amazing moon on the way out of Penzance. We turned left before the town and found the Bosavern House guesthouse with no trouble. Corinne and Allan were lovely, they checked us in and showed us to our rooms. We put down our stuff and went downstairs to have a little drinkie and to read up on what to do the next day. There was nothing I wanted to drink, so I had Allan make up a revolting concoction for me of vodka, sparkling water, and damson wine. I spotted absynthe on the list and made the mistake of asking what it was like. Allan poured me some. It was the most revolting aniseed taste I've ever experienced. I couldn't finish it, and only just managed to finish the other concoction. Katla was clever enough to have a simple sherry. Mike abstained.

I had a bash on the guitar and piano. Katla and I did a vocal duet on Swing Low and I discovered and attempted to play Sarabande on the piano. Beautiful. We decided to go the Fountain Inn for dinner as it was nearby and recommended highly. There were cats everywhere and the portions were enormous. Katla and I had some philosophical discussions about countries that invade others and about Iceland. It was very interesting. We had some red and Mike had a beer. It was quite expensive and Mike and I shared a piece of mint ice cream cake for dessert.

Mike drove us back and I made myself a hot chocolate to soothe my throat and the other two had another drink. We walked some more and went up to bed at about 10.30. I had a shower and crashed.

Plymouth: Mike, Smeaton's Tower, and the Dome

I had all intentions of getting up early and doing the Dome and Smeaton's Tower before 11am, but I got into town just in time. I called Mike but he was still in class. While waiting, I walked down to the Barbican to see how much one of the galleries was selling the Beatles on the Hoe photo for. He wanted £10 for a mounted small photo. The Dome wanted £17 for a large poster. I wasn't prepared to treat myself again just yet.

Mike rang so I walked back up to the Hoe to meet him. He showed me around the architecture school, which was interesting. It's in quite an old and dilapidated building but will be relocated up with the main uni campus next year. He showed me a building damaged in the war that he has been set a project on. He headed off to do some work.

I went back to the Hoe and bought my combined ticket for the Dome and Smeaton's Tower. I started with the tower in case the weather got worse or I ran out of time. I walked into the ground level door and flashed my ticket at the man in the little room. There was a winding staircase for a few turns which was built from scratch on the Hoe. Then came the section that was relocated to the Hoe from the Eddystone rocks. There were four cramped floors including an oil room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and entry. The ladders were teensy and the holes small enough to catch my backpack on. There was some great information on the walls, but the best bit was coming up into the candle room to see the candelabrum with two circles of candle spots. There was one more ladder to get to the windows to see out. The view was great and the wind was blowing fairly hard.

Back on the level below was a door out to the balcony, so I went out. The bolt was so stiff that I banged my knuckle, but it was worth it. I didn't dare take photos in case things blew away, but I absorbed the sea feeling and imagined what it would be like to be stranded in a lighthouse 22 miles away from shore. I headed back down the tower and had a chat with the man in the little room.

I went down to the Dome and went in the exhibition. It started with information about Plymouth's naval and maritime history - Francis Drake, James Cook, and the Mayflower. They also talked about Bligh and other trailblazers in the 17th century. The next floor down talked about Plymouth into the 20th century - the 1930s and then the war and the Blitz. I found the stuff about the Blitz interesting anyway, but especially some views of pre-war Plymouth and the fact that the old city was congested and full of problems. It then talked about the rebuilding and how the city was completely redesigned. Then how they have moved with the times and focused on tourism. There was also a detailed display about the four lighthouses and the people who designed and built them. That was very good.

I went to the cafe hoping to get some lunch as I was starving, but they didn't do anything substantial. So I started walking back to town, but changed my mind and went back to the waterfront. I got a panini there and had a chat to the Kiwi woman working there about how to get to Mount Edgecumbe. Another guy helped direct me to the ferry stop on the Tamar and I was on my way. I hesitated at a town map wondering if it was too far, but I decided to do it in the end.

I walked around West Hoe to the roundabout then turned left. I went past the continental ferry port and turned left again at the barracks into Stonehouse. I found the ferry stop and there was a ferry waiting, but I read the signs on a shelter and discovered just how much there was to do there and that I'd be better off coming back when it was all open and pleasant in the warmer months. I went into the corner shop nearby to buy some snacks and chatted to the woman in there (well, she chatted to me). The house was open on weekends in winter, but I would miss weekends while in Plymouth on this trip. I walked back into town and did a few things (buying socks for my aching feet) before deciding that I had nothing else to do, so called Mike to meet up.

I walked up through the mall and under the pedestrian subways of a huge roundabout and headed in what I thought was the direction of the uni. I soon ended up at a train station but chanced upon a road through the uni campus to get to the right road. I found the museum so knew I was on the right track. I turned right, went past the Fresher and Professor pub to the residential blocks and called him again. He let me in and we went upstairs. We searched for accommodation at Land's End exhaustively and fruitlessly until I suggested typing the nearby St Just into google. That resulted in a number of guesthouses. We rang one and shortlisted another. The one we rang was full but they recommended the one we shortlisted. We rang them and they had rooms available - two twins as there were to be four of us. Mike checked this with the two other takers and discovered that Wanda had piked on the trip altogether. He rang Becky to invite her but she was still at work. I checked my email on his broadband and we ordered pizza while we were waiting for her to finish. She couldn't come, so I rang and booked a twin and a single for the same price per person.

The pizza arrived so we went out into the kitchen to eat it. Katla was there and I met Wanda and Becky and Rob/Bob. We had lamb doner pizza and Rob/Bob insisted we have some of his garlic sauce on it, while hungrily looking on as we ate it. It appears that lamb doner pizza is his favourite food. It was nice talking to intelligent people. They were all going out so I put my painful boots on (after having punctured the evil blister on my heel with Mike's cardboard scalpel and applying a band aid) and headed to the bus stop. I got a bus back before too long and managed to overshoot the stop by a mile or so. I walked back and found Anne already in bed. I went to bed myself. It was about 10pm.

Plymouth: the Barbican

My alarm went off at 8am but I don't think I got up until 9am. I had a slow breakfast with Anne and had a shower. She insisted on driving me around to show me various sites and bus stops before dropping me at the Barbican. I went straight into the tourist office and looked at all the brochures. I picked up a paper about Dartmoor, but on the whole they were quite unhelpful. So I asked the woman behind the counter what was actually open that I could do. She told me: the aquarium, the museum, the Dome, Smeaton's Tower, and the Mayflower exhibition upstairs from the tourist office.

I thought I'd begin with the Mayflower exhibition upstairs as it was only £2, and it was quite nasty outside weather-wise. I learnt a few things, particularly about the 'pilgrim fathers' and the horrible things they did to the native Americans in the name of 'God'. By then I was very hungry, so I walked around the Barbican looking for food, ending up at a place opposite the big glassy gift shop thing. I had a pot of tea and a chorizo and mozzarella ciabatta. Yummy.

It wasn't quite 3pm so I went up to the dome and checked that Smeaton's Tower and the dome would be open the following day. I bought Dad a book about the Eddystone lighthouse and some fudge for me. I went up to the Hoe and took the obligatory photos of the tower and flag poles, Francis Drake's monument, and a warship going through. Then I kept walking around the water's edge to West Hoe and back into town. I looked in some shops and finally bought some new boots. I also got Anne some wine and chocolates. I got the 47 bus from Royal Parade successfully back to Lower Compton Road.

After showing Anne my purchases, she thought I should wear them in a bit, so I did. She made dinner and while she ducked out for something, (I think) Nathan came home, so we met, and Steve came over. Nathan went back out then we had spaghetti bolognaise for dinner, after he'd come back. We watched TV and then Steve went home. I think this is the night that Anne and I stayed up late (midnight).

Brixham, (Paignton,) (Totnes,) and Plymouth

I was up at about 8.45 and ventured downstairs to make some breakfast. There wasn't a soul in sight as they were probably sleeping off the excesses of the night before. I made my tea and toasted some unfrozen (not frozen) Tescos potato cakes. With margarine on them they were pretty awful, but I kept the rest of the packet.

As Tim the boss guy was nowhere in sight, I decided to take advantage of the glorious morning and take some non-bleak photos of Torquay. I walked down to town, onto the pier and around the garden. It was just beautiful, and out of the wind, the sun on the back of my head was positively warm.

I went back up to the backpackers, but since Tim had still not surfaced, one of the residents told me where to leave my bedclothes, the key, and my luggage for a few hours.

I walked back to the mall to the bus stop and got the next bus to Brixham via Paignton. I ended up with a day ticket as it was cheaper and the trip around the coast, past the zoo, the town of Paignton, and into Brixham, was really lovely. I got off in the town of Brixham and walked to the harbour. There was a lovely tall ship and lots of fishing boats and very quaint shops. I went around the corner up the main shopping mall and walked in exactly the wrong direction for the pier and the beach. I went back to the harbour, bought fish and chips, and walked in the right direction. The walk above the water was lovely, and I stopped on the pier to eat my fish and chips and to protect them from the evil, marauding uber-shitehawks.

I kept going around to Berry Head and passed the Berry Head Hotel (beautiful). I walked part of the South West Coast path, but didn't go all the way out to the end as I was conscious of the time. I walked back on the other side of the head past houses to the bus station, and headed back on the top deck of the bus to Torquay. It was a more meandering route so I saw a lot more houses and colleges and things. There are some amazing, dramatic deep-green slopes around Brixham - just lovely.

Back in Torquay I retrieved my luggage from the backpackers in Abbey Road and walked down to the bus stops outside Debenhams to find a bus to Totnes. I wanted to do this because Totnes was covered in my daily ticket price. I asked another driver and had to wait about half an hour for the next Totnes bus. I got on and then got stuck in a good traffic jam between Torquay and Paignton. We got to Totnes not long after 6 and I waited there for the next Plymouth bus at 6.20. Anne called and I told her I'd be in Plymouth at 7.30.

The bus ride would have been beautiful, skirting Dartmoor, only it was too dark to see the scenery. I arrived at Plymouth bus station at 7.25 and waited for Anne at the taxi rank. We found each other and she drove me to Lower Compton Road. It was such a luxury to be driven in a car and it was lovely to see her again.

Steve was there and so I finally got to meet him. He had cooked some wonderful quiches and so we had them with salad. We chatted and watched TV. Steve went home and Anne and I went to bed. It was probably about 11pm.

Bristol to Torquay

I woke up at 7am because one of the other girls' alarms went off, so was in a flurry to check the time because it sounded just like mine. I got back to bed and reset my alarm for 8.30. I went downstairs for my included breakfast after having one aborted shower and another successful one across the corridor. The French girl in my room locked me out so I found her in the breakfast room and borrowed her key. Breakfast was fairly ordinary with awful croissants. I sat with the French girl, who works for the Uni of Bristol from France. We had a bit of a chat about universities and fine art. I took some margarine, sugar, and milk with me.

I packed up and left at about 10.15. I walked to Temple Meads, taking a photo or two on the way. The train to Torquay was at 11.10 and was quite comfortable, though I managed to sit in someone else's seat all the way to Exeter St David's. The countryside got more and more beautiful and somehow I felt more and more comfortable. The man in the food car was an absolute scream - he had a broad Westcountry accent and a very refreshing mode of expression. I arrived in Torquay at about 1.30.

After studying a map at the train station, I walked up the hill towards the town centre. I went up and down what I thought were the main streets looking for either the backpackers or the tourist office to get a map. I kept on down to the harbour and finally found signs to the tourist office. I followed them all the way around to the pavillion, and even across the road (at which point I discovered the REAL town centre) until I discovered the signs were misleading and went back over the road. I found it eventually and the man gave me a map and marked where the backpackers was.

I went up the wrong street but soon set myself right and found the backpackers. There was a note on the door to say that reception wouldn't open until 3pm (as I had been warned on the phone) so I sat beside the door to wait until 3pm. One of the inhabitants went in the door after about ten minutes and insisted on me going inside. I was cold, wet, tired, and my feet were aching, so I didn't complain. I checked in, got my shower token, dumped my gear, and went back out.

I made a beeline for a bakery I had seen with marvellous-looking pasties. There were only smalls left in the shortcrust variety so I got two. They were rolled and sealed in the same way Dad used to do them. I also got something called a strawberry shortbread which was a slice of jam tart. I ate my pasties while walking slowly back down to the harbour in the same direction I had taken from the station, taking photos this time. I went out onto the pier but didn't try to walk right around as the waves were breaking over the top. I kept walking around the water up to the high section with the weird black netting and found a nice little cove and a man walking his dog. We decided it was too windy for us.

I walked back to the town centre past a takeaway shop (with a vast range of products served with chips) to the mall. Once there, I got soap from the Body Shop, feet supports from Superdrug (and some moisturiser as a treat) and dinner (lasagne and juice) from Tescos. I took the lot back up to the backpackers and had a lie down and drifted off a few times. I roused myself just before 8 and went downstairs to warm up my lasagne and to do some socialising. The lasagne was awful but the people were interesting.

I washed up my things, bought another shower token and went back upstairs. I washed my hair since it was foul, and had a reasonably early night (10.30?).

Bristol, job admin, and Clifton bridge

I was awake again at about 8/8.30, had my shower and had breakfast downstairs. I packed up and dropped my key in the box and stepped outside with my bag. I took some photos and headed down the hill. I went straight to the backpackers and checked in. I couldn't have a key until 2pm, but I left my bag locked up.

From there I went to the internet cafe in Baldwin St, checked my email and locked up employment agencies in Bristol. Apart from the one I'd seen near the internet cafe, they also had an Adecco and a Reed. I went to the first one in Baldwin St, and they told me that the service is free, I need to supply a CV and that they will make all attempts to keep me in work once I had signed up. I've got their card. Then I went to Adecco and spoke to a girl there who said she was from Sydney but who had a suspiciously British accent. Again, she said I could sign up for free and I gave her a copy of my CV. I stated that I wanted £8-10 per hour, but she said it was more realistic to expect £7+. She said that she had been a bit put off by Bristol to start with but that she had found really nice little pockets along the way so it grew on her. She also said that there was a lengthy application process online, followed by an interview. I decided not to do that on that day. I told her I'd be in touch and to email my CV to Maeve (which I haven't done yet). I then went to Reed but they told me that they have a backlog of people looking for admin work so they wouldn't be prepared to take anyone new on for some time.

I went further up Corn Street to the shopping centre and bought padlocks for my bag, a milkshake and some Gap jeans (finally!). I also tried on quite a number of pairs of boots in the Broadmead mall with no success. It was getting late so I walked back to the main bus stop, getting half a Subway roll on the way, and got on a bus to Clifton Village, paying £1.20 for the privilege. I got off a bit early and walked through Queens (Kings?) Square and some of the village until I found the suspension bridge. It's very dramatic, with one pylon being higher than the other in order to make it appear symmetrical from the Clifton side. It spans a huge gorge over the Avon, and there are roads at river level below. The houses around it are beautiful. Cars have to pay to cross it - possibly only to leave Clifton. I was surprised by this, though Mike told me later that it used to be 2p. I ate my Subway and walked through the village. The shops are fairly posh, but the area is obviously much nicer than the rest of Bristol.

I walked back the way the bus had come, passing some very nice churches and some lovely public-looking buildings that could have been libraries or town halls. There were also some good shops on the downhill road back to the city centre, and I came across a place that dealt in 'Australian pies'. I didn't know there was such a thing and they certainly didn't look like anything I've ever seen in Australia. At the bottom of that huge hill is College Green, which must be the student precinct, though the Uni of Bristol student union is up the hill in Clifton. It's a really nice grass square (College Green, that is) with beautiful stone or Georgian buildings around it. That, plus Clifton, was my first indication that there is any beauty in Bristol whatsoever.

I took some more photos and went back to the backpackers. I settled in and had a bit of a lie down, then prepared my pot noodle and got some surprisingly delicious Ribena. I did some calling - home to both Mum and Dad and to Anne in Plymouth. After observing some odd noises and some noisy neighbours, myself and my two fellow inhabitants went to sleep.

Bath

I woke up at about 8.30 and had a shower. Breakfast was included and downstairs in the café. It was fairly ordinary.

I walked into the town and located the tourist office. I got an accommodation guide and a brochure about the Roman Baths, and checked that trains left from Temple Meads. I walked to the station, discovering the YHA hostel on the way. The next train was after 11am. Unfortunately, it cost £5.

It was a funny little four-carriage train but it got me there in about 15 minutes with a few stops. The weather was horrible almost from the minute I walked out of the train station. I found the main street and was immediately impressed by how beautiful the building were, particularly compared to Bristol. I saw the Pump Room and the Abbey, but made a beeline for the Roman Baths. The tickets were £10. The displays were very well laid out, with tantalising artefacts being mixed with real sections of the old building for our view. We had hand-held audio guide things which were very good and descriptive.

We saw pieces of the sacrificial altar and burial stones, and hair pins and combs, then looked into the overflow drain and learned about the ceremonies undertaken both in Stone Age Celtic times as well as Roman times. A spring that was so warm was not common and so the people thought it was a gift of the gods – the Romans worshipped Minerva and the Celts Sulis. So many gifts were tossed into the baths in thanksgiving. Also, curses were tossed in asking the god to intervene in thefts and other crimes – for the culprit to be punished.

In Celtic times the spring was not contained, so the area was very marshy. The Romans brought the ‘technology’ to build the stone surrounds lined with lead and to feed the spring in appropriate directions. When the Romans withdrew in the fifth or sixth century, the baths complex fell into disrepair and other forms were built over it. It wasn’t until the nineteenth century that the original foundations were uncovered and fully excavated to reveal the historical significance. Unfortunately, more discoveries may be waiting to be made but nearby buildings are in the way.

At the end we were actually taken outside to the main large bath, and though it was raining, you could still see bubbles rising to the top. We were taken through the various rooms and had the Roman rituals explained to us. The Roman bathing tradition has survived mostly in the ‘Turkish’ bathing form. No one can use those baths because the water is untreated, but I still had the urge to get in to feel the warmth. I later discovered that there is a bath complex nearby that you can actually get in (probably exorbitant). I enjoyed the tour, and am only sorry that:

(a) I lost all my photos of it

(b) the Pump Room was closed

(c) I couldn’t taste the treated bath water.

It just means I’ll have to go back when it’s warmer.

I walked up Milsom Street to the Assembly Rooms which is where the Pump Room restaurant had moved to. The rooms were beautiful, but the prices were high and the staff completely ignored me, so I went to have lunch elsewhere. I found a nice café back down the hill and had a pot of tea and panini.

It was getting late by now, so I went straight to the Jane Austen centre, where as it was I’d missed the last guided tour, so they let me in cheaper to do it myself. It was interesting, with a lot of references to the mentions she made of Bath in her novels, as well as her own experience of living there. After her father died, the family were forced to move to progressively less grand lodgings – the Centre is located in Gay Street, near where the Austens lived at number 25. It also traced Jane’s perception of Bath as she got older, and displayed a portrait that is supposedly more faithful to her face than the official portrait used.

There were a lot of silly things, though, repetitions of photos of where they lived, and letters and newspapers you couldn’t actually read. There were also displays of period dress which were fairly interesting. I was glad that I went, though the staff there had to throw half a dozen of us out well after the closing time of 4.30.

I had pretty much seen everything. From there I walked up Gay Street to the circus. It’s an amazing circle of houses in four (or three?) curved groups in perfect condition. It was impossible to take a decent photo both because it was dark and because you could never fit it all in without doing a video camera sweep. The Royal Crescent was even more amazing because the curve was continuous, and probably a complete semi-circle. My photo was quite poor, but it would be possible to get a decent one in better conditions.

I walked through the park back to the town and found the Theatre Royal. It is a well thought of Georgian theatre, but I only saw the foyer because the show running was a terrible panto and they only run tours twice a month. The foyer looked nice.

I walked to Bath Abbey and discovered that it was closed due to the service that particularly day being held somewhere else. Some people came out while I was outside so I ventured in. I was told that it was closed to the public but the man let me stand at the back for a few minutes to look. It’s pretty amazing with a very pale vaulted ceiling. It would be great to see in daylight so that the colours in the stained window could come through.

I didn’t get to see Queen Square, Pulteney Bridge, Sydney Gardens, the canal, or the George pub, but they are other reasons to go back when the weather is warmer. I found the station and headed back to Bristol.

I walked back the way I knew (i.e., via the backpackers) and dropped in to ask them about an internet café and about me staying the next night. The internet café is in Baldwin Street and I found it but it was closed. I also found a little supermarket so grabbed a newspaper, some pot noodles, some juice and some chocolate (oh, and this book). I headed back to the guesthouse, looked at the paper, started this diary, and watched TV, eating my pot noodle as well. I turned out the light directly outside my room this time, and slept better for it.

London: Portobello Road, to a very disappointing Bristol

Jess was up early at 7.20 and kept packing. I got up after 8 and we went down for breakfast, finishing what we could and donating the rest to the free food box. Jess checked out while I put some of her Vegemite on my sandwiches.

We said goodbye and she headed to Marble Arch to get her bus to Luton airport and to Paris. I packed up the last of my gear and checked out myself, taking my YHA membership card, chatting to Brisbane woman. As I walked out with my bag, Gilarme got in the lift with me to show me how to use the lockers in the basement. I had no change so he lent me a pound and lifted my bag into the locker. We went back up to reception so I could change a note and pay him back, and then back out into the street. He was going to spend the day shopping in Oxford St so walked me to Oxford Circus station. He is very nice and extremely attractive.

I got the train to Notting Hill Gate and walked to Portobello Road. It was fairly miserable and raining but the place was heaving. The markets are pretty cool with antiques, crappy souvenirs, jewellery, veges, food, fudge, and almost anything else you can imagine. From there I intended to go to Tower Bridge for a photo but when I got there and walked out of the station I was going to be late for my bus.

I hightailed it back to the hostel, grabbed my bag, ran to Oxford Circus station, went to Victoria, walked (ran) to the coach station but still missed the bus by a few minutes. I rang National Express and they said to ask the driver of the 2pm to let me on. Luckily he was really nice and let me on. The trip was pretty uninteresting, except for the fact that we left London via Chelsea, Cheyne Place, and Earl’s Court. The sun came out momentarily too. Cheyne Place looks lovely.

We pulled into Bristol at about 4.20pm. I walked out of the bus station in the direction I thought was right, and found St Michaels Hill easily. The ‘guest house’ was through the café’s street level door and the whole place looked immediately shabby. The guy who checked me in looked shady and the room was terrible. The tea cup was dirty, there was scarce toilet paper, there was no top sheet and a light shone into my room all night.

I went out for a walk in search of dinner up Whiteladies Road, and while there were some really nice places, they were sit-down only. I was asked for money on a street corner, and I saw a drunken man yell and kick a street sign for no apparent reason. I got Indian takeaway right near the guesthouse and chatted to the two lovely people in the shop. Unfortunately the food was unpalatable because it was so unbearably hot. I watched TV and went to bed.

London: The Globe, Tate Modern, Changing of the guard, Piccadilly Circus, shopping, socialising

Today was the day that we were thinking of heading out of the city to Oxford/Cambridge or Windsor/Hampton Court. I think that Hampton Court was the best contender, but Jess was keen to stay in the city in the morning to see the changing of the guard at the Palace. We went first to Blackfriars station and walked across the river to Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre to have a look. We walked in and found out that a tour was just about to leave but we didn’t have time. Not happy with that tourist office woman! We had to content ourselves with looking at the outside. It’s nice, but I’d still like to tour the inside. I’ve lost the photos, but it’s white with wooden cross beams.

From there we went back to the Tate Modern Gallery and had what we thought was a quick look. We saw Picassos, Monets, Jackson Pollocks, and others. We didn’t see anything like everything. We went to the nearest station, which was Southwark, which was quite a walk. From Southwark to Green Park, and a very speedy walk to Buckingham Palace. We still only caught the last ten minutes of the guard changing ceremony. I was quite disappointed [to have got there late] because they were playing ‘Moment for Morricone’ and it was very good – Jess and I were singing along. They marched off playing something else, and I saw a bassoon player and a piccolo player with his music on his arm. I’m definitely going back but I was very surprised to see so many people there in the middle of winter.

We walked rather dejectedly back to Green Park station, but got excited when this guy walked past us with swanky cowboy boots, ripped jeans, pinstripe jacket, long, brilliant white cuffs, and long, carefully tousled hair. The worst part was his perky walk. I said to Jess that he was James Warner in ten years. She thought it was very funny and tried to take video of him (unsuccessfully).

We were now at liberty, so I suggested we have a quick look at Piccadilly Circus. We did that and took photos. Jess wanted to sort out her transport to Luton airport, so we went to Victoria station next. We asked about the trains and they were fairly expensive and didn’t go right to the airport. We walked around the corner towards the coach station to find out about the Green Line buses. Mike rang me then and so Jess asked the Green Line drivers nearby and found out all she needed to know.

We went back to Oxford St to the internet café and caught up with our emails as well as find a gig to go to. No gigs unfortunately, but found a great French guitar Django Hot Club bar near London and emailed Michael. I had missed Jason’s River Bar gig on Thursday night which was annoying because it sounded really good on the web.

We didn’t make it to St Paul’s for evensong and had to meet up with Mike, so decided to wander up Oxford St so I could have a look at Gap jeans and Jess could look for Wallace and Gromit figures. I learnt about sizes in Gap and Jess had no luck in M&S or Debenhams, but the woman directed us to Hamleys in Regent St. It was a long walk but worth it for the successful outcome.

We kept walking down Regent St to Leicester Square and got the train to Covent Garden to meet Mike and Catla. After we finally found each other, they were ready to go back to Leicester Square to eat dinner. Mike took us to a Chinese restaurant and Jess and I shared a plate of Singapore noodles.

Mike and Catla split off to see Mamma Mia and Jess and I headed back to the hostel. We cooked our sausages and veges, drank the last of the vodka to deaden the pain in our feet and chatted to Gilarme and Argentina girl, giving a rendition of ‘Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree’ in a round. I had a shower and went to bed while Jess started to pack.

London: Harrods, Albert Hall, Big Ben, Westminster Cathedral, High Society

We woke up at 8am again and had our usual breakfast. Though I think I skipped the cereal this day. We went straight to Leicester Square to get theatre tickets. We were undecided about which show to see – contenders were Les Mis, Guys and Dolls, Chicago, High Society, and the ballet. I wanted to see High Society most because of the music, but would have been happy with Chicago too. Brooke Shields had been Roxy Hart recently, but it seemed like her season had finished. I would have been at Guys and Dolls in a flash had the cast not just changed away from Ewan McGregor. Wow. What a show that would have been. We were also tossing up seeing Ian McKellen in drag in Aladdin, but it was a panto and the rest might have been crap. Anyway, Jess decided to go with my choice. We happily trotted away with our £25 tickets.

From there we went to Green Park station and walked to Buckingham Palace. It wasn’t a guard changing day, but we did see the horse guards arrive with their long red jackets covering the horses’ rear ends. After some photos we walked to Hyde Park Corner, and just as we came in sight of Wellington Arch it started to sleet. It was supposed to be five degrees but I’m sure it was colder.

We crossed into Hyde Park with the pigeons and went down a bit of Rotten Road before crossing over to Knightsbridge and heading for Harrods. Highlights here were the piccolo on sale for £424, the original artworks, the trussed-up wood pigeons, and the piece of jewellery on sale for £37,000 down from £91,000. Insane! The Tiffany stuff was just beautiful, but no huge rectangular Audrey Hepburn diamonds. We didn’t buy anything, thought I was tempted by the Belgian chocolates. Jess couldn’t find a small enough piece of fois gras to buy.

We decided to walk to the Royal Albert Hall from Harrods, which proved to be further than we thought. We passed the amazing Albert memorial in Hyde Park on the way. So golden and detailed (and my photo is gone. . .). We walked into the box office section of the Albert Hall and the tours weren’t running that day. But as soon as I saw photos of the interior theatre I vowed to see a concert there. It is absolutely beautiful with seats, then boxes, then seats, then boxes rising impossibly high out of sight. Just brilliant.

We walked around the back and I got a great photo of the building with some rare sun on the warm colours (alas, gone now). Jess found the amazing Science Museum building and we walked the endless underground tunnels to South Kensington station. That put us on the right line for Westminster station and we got out and gawped at Big Ben – just in time for it to strike 3pm (got a photo but it’s gone). I took a photo of the eye (also gone) but it was closed for maintenance so we couldn’t go on it.

We walked around the corner to see the Houses of Parliament and the protests set up on the road opposite, continuing on to Westminster Abbey. Jess had never been there so she went in, asking me to come back to collect her at about 4.30. I needed something meaty to eat, so in desperation I went back into the Westminster warren of tunnels (station, that is) and followed the signs to Maccas. Unfortunately, I was three blocks up besides the Thames before I gave up on finding it. I was starving and cold and my feet were killing me so I turned left and left again to try and complete the block to where I started. On my way up Whitehall I saw the horse guards in their courtyard surrounded by tourists. I then came across a café and walked in without thinking and a waiter showed me to a table immediately. It was only then that I looked at the prices, and they were fairly steep. I decided on chicken soup, since it was £2.80. It was quite good, and warm in the café, though they managed to charge me £3 in the end.

I kept on and ducked into Tescos to get more bread and juice. After that it was time to meet Jess and so, after a false turn up past the Houses of Parliament, I met up with her outside the Abbey. We had a choice here – we could either hurry for the evensong service at St Paul’s, or just meander up the road to the evensong service at Westminster Cathedral. We opted for the easy way. In the end it was further than we thought and we only just made it in time. The cathedral was beautiful and the music was interesting. It was quite medieval and monophonic for ages, but it suddenly broke into the most beautiful minor harmony. Just amazing. Really clever choir of male voices.

We didn’t stay for the next service as time was getting away so we headed for the nearest tube station which proved very elusive. We ended up at Buckingham Palace and then got onto a signposted route, which was quite long and painful, before we found it. We headed straight back to Oxford St, cooked our remaining pasta and sauce, and hightailed it to the Shaftesbury Theatre to see High Society.

Our seats were right in the middle of the stalls, and so apart from the guy in front of me with the giant head, we had a good view. The cast was very good – Tracy was excellent, though had a weak upper register, Mike had a real Frank Sinatra thing happening in ‘You’re Sensational’, and C.K. Dexter Haven just had a wonderful voice. An understudy was playing Liz, and while I thought she was good in the first half, she just didn’t cut it in her solo ‘It’s All Right With Me’. The orchestra was very good – the piano-playing leader had a camera linking his image to a monitor on the balcony facing the stage. We could see it so saw how embarrassed he was when he accidentally landed on the keys between songs. There was only one reeds player who was billed as tenor/clarinet/picc but we didn’t hear a picc or a tenor. The other horn chair was trumpet/flugel – an amazing player. So in harmonised horn lines the reeds player was on alto and the brass player on flugel sounding like a tenor. The reeds player’s flute left a lot to be desired but his alto and clarinet were very good. On the whole, the show was very good – the orchestra were great at bringing the dynamics down when the vocals were happening.

That finished close to 10pm and we headed back to the hostel a lot more leisurely-like than we went. On the way we stopped at Tescos and Jess got wine gums, drinking chocolate and baked beans, and I got some muesli bars, vodka shots, and chocolates.

Back at the hostel, we had a late night sausage feast and drank the vodka with soda. We chatted to some of the inmates – Carlos and Guilarme (?) from Brazil and a girl from Argentina whose English wasn’t very good. Jess got talking to some people who spoke French and was in her element. I think she stayed up later than me. I was in bed by about 11.30.

London: St Paul's, Greenwich, Tower Bridge, new camera

Alarm went off at 8am, and I staggered down the ladder at about 8.30, feeling crap. We had cereal and I had a cup of Tesco’s tea for breakfast and rugged up to face the day at about 10am. This wasn’t all laziness – we couldn’t get an off-peak tube ticket before 9.30.

We walked to Tottenham Court Rd station and caught the tube straight to St Paul’s. I had never been so close to it and it was impressive. We had photos on the steps, and then went inside to find that entry was £9. No thanks! We saw all we could from the side entrances and made a note that evensong was 5pm. We walked around the outside and got some good views and more photos.

We spotted a tourist office and went in. A woman told me that the Globe Theatre was not running tours in winter (ha! how wrong was she?!), and we got a theatre guide and a stack of other brochures. We went back to St Paul’s station and got some yummy Danish pastries for morning tea. From there, Jess wanted to see the Bank of England for some strange Mary Poppins reference. We went to Bank station, and since time was getting away and we could get straight on the Docklands Light Railway, we decided to go straight to Greenwich.

We got a direct tram to the Cutty Sark station just over the river and got off. We walked through an arcade thingo and came out at the water. The Cutty Sark is permanently moored as a museum and is also used for functions. It’s huge and it’s a lovely feeling seeing the masts and rigging from all over the town.

We walked through the Royal Naval College, designed by Wren, and called in at the beautiful chapel. It has an amazing original (restored) organ. We went past a skating rink and walked away from the water towards the Royal Observatory. After taking a photo or two behind us, we made it up the hill in time to see Charles Todd’s time ball move all the way up the pole at 12.58 and then drop with rather a wobbly trajectory back to the bottom, at 1pm.

We went and saw the meridian and had our photos taken next to it. We also went into the camera obscura and when people weren’t walking in and out letting light in, we could see a revolving image of the scene around the observatory. We went in the museum part and saw the instruments they used and saw pictures of Charles Todd’s Astronomer Royal. The current Astronomer Royal is trying to create public learning centres to impart knowledge about astronomy.

We went up into the main dome and saw the gigantic telescope. Amazing. Then down to the shop and Jess bought Clint a birthday present – an instrument that’s used to calculate the time from the angle of the sun. It’s very pretty and very shiny. On the way down the hill we took more photos and then headed through the town proper to have a look at the markets. It was the wrong day and they were very boring.

We got back on the tram and went as far as Westferry so we could change trams for Tower Gateway. Once there, we split up and Jess went to the Tower of London and I went to Tower Bridge (after eating our sandwiches). I walked over the bridge and checked out the gargoyles (damn, I didn’t have a camera). On the other side I had my application letter for Southampton printed at a copy shop and walked around the corner to post the whole thing.

I walked back over the bridge and to the tower. I took a photo with my phone and called Jess. She wasn’t finished, so I thought I would nick up to Oxford St and find Jessops and back to the tower for 5pm. It took longer than I thought by the time I changed trains at Embankment. I asked all my phone questions at O2 (bastards!) and they directed me to Jessops in New Oxford St.

I found a good bag and decided on the black camera model because the silver bag was too big. By the time I did this it was 5pm and so I called Jess and she got a train to meet me at Tottenham Court Rd. We headed back to the hostel (finding it first time this time). I dropped off my new camera, and went back out to meet Rachel at Bond St station – we had coffee at Starbucks in Borders on Oxford St.

Back at the hostel, Jess and I cooked our Thai vegetables for dinner. I have no idea what we did for the rest of the night, but I think I had a slightly earlier night than the previous one. I played with my camera, read the instructions, and charged it.

Chester to London

Derek drove me to Chester to be picked up by National Express at 9am. This one was direct and so was marked as London. There were only about six people on the bus and we headed north out of Chester only to get to the motorway and turn south. We took the Northwich exit and headed for Tarvin (??) but turned right at the Tarvin roundabout and went through Tarporley, near Crewe and near Stoke-on-Trent to get onto the M6. We made a comfort stop at a service station and went through toll gates.

At some stage the M6 turned into the M1 and we only made one stop at Milton Keynes. We entered London through some suburbs I forget now (Crystal Palace?) and pulled up at Victoria coach station at about 1.30 (15 minutes late). I considered going on the internet while I was waiting for Jess, but she sent me a text to say that she was at the main coach station across the road. I found her without too much trouble and we walked to Victoria train station (huge beast that it is). After sorting out what kind of tickets to get during our stay, we took the tube to Oxford Circus and walked to ‘Oxford St’ hostel, which actually happens to be in Noel Street. Thanks, Derek, for finding out where Noel Street is.

We checked in with a minimum of fuss, and found our room. It was simple but comfortable enough, though the radiator was broken and a water pipe dripped constantly into a big basin, into which I managed to drop a couple of garments. Oh yeah, and the pillows were stitched in and unbearably flat. But, it was still OK.

In the time we had left us, we decided to (1) check email, (2) buy groceries for all of our meals, and (3) look out for camera shops. We found a huge but dodgy internet café, bought £12 worth of food (pasta/sauce, mince, Thai stir fry, sausages, cereal, bread, milk, etc.) and while I looked in camera shops, I couldn’t find a 350D as cheap as in Chester, though I knew there was a Jessops around.

By then it was completely dark and we managed to miss the hostel completely. We found it again and unpacked the groceries. We had to label all the fridge stuff, and so called them ‘Bennett’ or ‘Bennetts’, which we found quite amusing. We kept all the other stuff upstairs in our room.

I think we met American guy on this night – a very extroverted interior decorator called Biddle who kept telling us stories twice. He was harmless enough, and I used one of his sugars (I replaced it with two I stole from Maccas). We cooked our mince, pasta, and sauce while the others microwaved Tesco meals or baked pizzas. Go us. I think we met hyperactive Brisbane woman then too. The food was good, and Australian Dave offered us some Italian cheese to put on top.

We washed up, went upstairs, and began to plan our days. It was complex and we were still debating after midnight. I was wrecked, so went to bed, leaving Jess to write in her diary.