Arrival in Sydney, and jetlagged exploring and fireworks

On arrival at Sydney airport, which was about 7.30 am, we disembarked, bought some gin and some whisky for Dad and Jill, and proceeded through our respective border control queues (I won), before waiting for our luggage while being harassed by a customs man. We hadn't done anything about phone data, and so stopped at an Optus counter to ask what was possible on my phone. Turns out the girl really didn't know what she was talking about. I called the hotel to see whether our room was ready. Apparently it was, so we bought tickets for the train, and dragged our luggage down to the station and got on. It wasn't too busy.

I had chosen to change trains for the North Shore line at Wynyard, but it turned out it would have been quicker and probably easier to change at Central. We got to see Circular Quay, though. After going over the harbour bridge, we got off the train at North Sydney, and walked through Greenwood Plaza to the top on Miller. We walked up Miller St, which was a chore in the heat, and turned right onto McLaren and found the Rydges. We checked in, and found our room, which had a harbour view - just not of the bridge. We threw our stuff down, stripped off, and had showers, which felt good.

I felt refreshed enough, and enthused with Christian's keenness, to go out to explore rather than having a sleep at this point. After exploring the hotel and establishing that there was no roof garden, we went out, with no particular plan apart from to cross the bridge at street level. Our first stop was Greenwood Plaza, for a pidda lunch. Mmmm, pidda. We then walked east in search of the nearest piece of harbour, as Christian felt sure we could get there easily by just walking in that direction. I felt sure that you'd have to cross the highway or the Cahill Expressway, which make it impossible. We walked parallel with the expressway for a while, and then came to a road crossing at which we could have got to the eastern side of the bridge, but decided to head west down to Lavender Bay. The path took us downhill through a lovely shady park, and then under a railway bridge to the shore.

There were a good couple of handfuls of people with picnics laid out on the grass, obviously in residence for the evening's festivities. We investigated the water, got our feet wet, gazed at the bridge at close proximity, and absorbed the ambient mood. It was good. We walked towards the bridge along the shore, intending to check out Luna Park, but the path was closed. So we had to turn back and head up through the park the way we had come, and continued on through the many people, getting an ice cream on the way with the last of the dollars I'd brought with me, under the approach to the eastern side, and up the stairs to cross over it.

We walked across, stopping to take photos over the edge, and through the gaps, but didn't really get a good view due to the fences. On the far side, we looked to go into the pylon museum, but decided against it when we saw that it was $13 instead of the 'few dollars' someone had told us it was, and because we didn't want to spend time on it at that stage. We kept going past it, and took the stairs down the other side into the Rocks.

We kept walking towards Circular Quay, and emerged into the chaos before very long. There were sections closed for the fireworks, and people everywhere. We walked along the ferry terminals as I thought a short ride might be a good idea. And then we go accosted by the Captain Cook man in silly costume, and Christian decided that he'd like to do a coffee cruise, which was $39 each for two hours all the way around the outer harbour, and with coffee and cake. I agreed, though I was starting to feel quite seedy by now. We sat on the pier to wait for the cruise to start, and I was feeling quite cold, and incredibly tired. The boat arrived, and we boarded. I was keen to be in the fresh air/sun.

We got a spot in the middle of the back of boat (making photos difficult) but Christian moved around to get what he wanted. The tour guide was very good, and I learned a lot about the eastern suburbs. There was an awful lot of activity on the harbour, and a lot of boats were moored in preparation for the fireworks. The tea and cakes were good, and were what I needed to pick me up. I got a bit too much sun at this point, but enjoyed being outside - we moved under the shady section eventually.

Back at Circular Quay (at about 4pm) we got a train back to North Sydney. Walking through Greenwood Plaza, we debated whether or not to get something cold for dinner then, but decided against it, buying instead a bottle of bubbly for the evening. On the way back to the hotel, we found a couple of possible dinner options, but were leaning towards room service. At the hotel, we fell into bed at about 5pm and slept until 8. It was too late at that point to go back out for dinner, and Christian was a bit annoyed at the lack of room service options. We ordered though (a pizza for me, and pork for Christian I think) and the meals were quite good, and washed down with a bottle of bubbly that the hotel had provided in the end.

Then it was time for the fireworks. Out the window we could see one of the three sets of fireworks fairly clearly. We had the TV on, and the window open as well, and were both snapping away with our cameras. The TV coverage was a bit inane, and both of us found the TV ads quite irreverent compared to the UK. It was fairly exciting to be there, though, and worth the extravagant price of the room. We managed to stay awake to see in the new year, and went to sleep soon after.

Abu Dhabi to Sydney

In the early morning, even with ear plugs in, I could hear some really loud, annoying people upstairs. We'd been warned that the furniture would be moved at about 6am, and we woke up about then anyway. We got some breakfast, and I tried to investigate the shower, but there was a woman hanging around in the shower room, and I wasn't sure whether she worked there. I didn't really need one anyway. I just needed sleep.We chatted to an English/Australian couple who'd come in that morning, and then it was time for us to head off. Christian wanted to walk anyway.

We wandered around the airport, finding luxury cars as raffle prizes, the wrong kind of gin to buy for Dad and Jill, and the amazing dome in the main shopping area. We moved on to the gate, and waited for it to open. This leg (the long leg) was being operated by Virgin Australia. I went to find a desk that would let me change my meal preference, but failed. When it was time to board, we went through another round of security, and I had my water bottle confiscated, which didn't make me happy. That was forgotten, though, when I got to the desk (Christian was well behind me in the queue) and the woman told me that I'd been upgraded to premium economy. I checked that Christian was too, and went through to wait for boarding.

On the plane, we found our lovely, roomy seats, which were in the central four, and we were brought sparkling wine and our menus. Very luxurious. I checked with our cabin crew lady that I didn't have to have the low-fat meal, and she said no, and I also asked whether we could move along if no one took the two seats on the other side of me. She said that was fine, but to do it sooner rather than later. No else took those seats, and so there were quite a few spare in the premium economy section.

We had to order our meals in advance, because there were at least three choices, and the food was very good. When it came time to sleep, I stretched out on three seats, and found reasonably comfortable positions and got quite a lot of sleep. Luckily, because my feet were up, my ankles didn't swell. This is a Good Thing. We were woken up with breakfast before landing.

Hazlemere to Heathrow to Abu Dhabi

Our flight was at 1.50, and Christian had managed to check in online but I hadn't (yay stress), so after the final packing, we left home at about 10am. We drove, in a newly fixed and reliable car, to Rackspace, and after negotiating to have the witches hats removed from the car park entrance, parked on the top floor, away from enthusiastic painters.

The taxi, a mafia-style Mercedes with blacked-out windows, arrived in good time, and took us to Heathrow, dropping us at terminal 4. We went to check me in and leave our bags, and the woman printed my boarding passes, noticing that the e-ticket number was missing. So we had to go to the service desk, escorted by a friendly man, to sort that out. It took ages, but it was finally sorted out, and we went through security.

On the other side, we sat in a cafe and had a late breakfast (Christian had to go elsewhere for coffee) and then had a quick wander looking for Australian power adapters (unsuccessfully). Then we took a photo with the GoPro, got water and chocolate, and then wandered to the gate. We took our seats for the short leg, and played games, watched our progress, and played on laptop. In my wisdom, I'd decided to opt for low-fat meals on the website, and I discovered that meant I was brought my own meal well in advance of everyone else's, and that those meals were significantly less interesting and tasty than the other options. The first meal was plain white fish and rice (which were surprisingly tasty to be fair), and then a small baguette instead of a cooked meal. This wasn't what I was expecting, and I think I stole some of Christian's dessert.

At Abu Dhabi, we disembarked at about midnight, and walked through the airport looking for the Al Reem Lounge, which we'd booked for four hours in advance. The woman at the desk booked us in for the remaining time we'd be spending at the airport (which we paid for in UAE dollars, despite the quoted amount being in US dollars - bizarre), and went inside. We went past lounge chairs and tables, a bar, and an impressive array of hot food, and went downstairs where there were spare sofa chairs and took up residence.

I went upstairs to investigate what was included in our lounge pass, discovering that we had unlimited food and drink, and wifi. I proudly carried this information to Christian, with some orange juice, only to find he'd already worked out the wifi. We moved to some chairs with a table, and I went up to get some food. After eating it, we tried to get some sleep. Conditions weren't that conducive, and I spent much of the time being cold, but without the energy to put my jumper on properly, but I did get some sleep.

Squirrels, Alum Bay and the Needles, and home again

I was up at 7.30, and again went downstairs for breakfast. At my usual table, I was served another delicious breakfast, and chatted with Linda and Stephen, and the couple at the next table. My plan today was to visit the squirrel hide that Stephen had told me about the previous day, then go out to Alum Bay/The Needles, and then bus to Ryde and walk back to Lake. Ambitious? Yes.

I packed up and left my luggage in the kitchen at Haytor Lodge, and headed in the direction that Linda and Stephen had advised - a bit to the east, and then north towards the interior. I walked for some time, until I got to a golf course. A man asked me if I needed directions before I even asked (I must have looked lost). He pointed me the right way, and I continued on. I got to a gate, and went through it into an area that was a designated nature reserve. Aha. I was getting close. The man had told me to go straight on through the gate, but I was confused, because there was another gate after a narrow section of land, which would take me back out of the nature reserve and right through some woods immediately afterwards. To add to that, I had to jump a reasonably large stream to get past. I had nowhere else to go, so I jumped the stream (getting a wet foot), went through the gate at the far side, and turned right. I kept on for a while, and then another path joined the one I was on, and a man was joining the path just as I was going past, and he started talking to me. He was going to the squirrel hide as well, and so we walked together. I'm not sure I would have found it without him.

The hide was off to the right of the path, a well-set-up little area with a path, a bridge, and a wooden shed as the hide. There was no one else there when we arrived. We put our bags inside the shed, and set up our cameras. His was a Sony thing with a big fat lens. We waited. A woman came along, putting out bits of apple and fruit. My friend had put out hazelnuts and other nuts, because he knew that was their favourite. The woman had a phone camera. We were talking, when suddenly she pointed out that a squirrel was approaching on the ground. It was miraculous. A tiny, sweet little thing; nervous, but determined. The man said she was a female that he'd seen before. I took some photos, feeling grateful that I'd actually managed to see one.

The woman went away, and after a while, more squirrels came. There was one that was much darker in colour, and one that was quite mixed. They came close: on the roof of the shed, on the window sill, on the railing outside, and even inside the shed on the shelf. They were all very sweet, very trusting little things. I got lots of photos and enjoyed the experience immensely - I'm so glad I stayed longer than I intended to.

Time had got away, however, and it was after 11 by now. I walked back to the main road in Lake, via the cycle path this time to avoid the stream, and got the next bus to Newport. At Newport, I changed to the number 7 and headed west to Alum Bay and the Needles. The buses are all modern and near new, but the roads are horrendous. I felt anxious trying to fit down all those narrow roads, and jarred by all the potholes. Upon arrival, I set off the walk down the steps to Alum Bay. The path was closed. The chair lift was closed. So I walked to a viewing platform to look at the Needles. It wasn't very close, though I got some reasonable photos with the zoom lens. There were a lot of rides and novelty shops, most of which were closed. There was a sweet shop I intended to go into, but I decided I had to get the next bus back in order to make the rest of the day work.

I could see people walking along a path out to the end of the point, so I decided to try and get as far as I could before having to turn back. The weather had turned a bit nasty by now, but I walked quickly uphill and on to the path. Before long, I had a good view of the cliff above Alum Bay, and the wonderful colours in the rock. I had a view of the needles that was no better. There were some boats, and then a flotilla of jetskis came around the point. Then it was time for me to go back to the bus. I'll have to go back to experience it properly, preferably with Christian.

I got back on the bus, and endured the bumpy ride back to Newport, eating the various bits of food I'd managed to gather over the two days. In Newport, I realised that I would need to go straight back to Lake to get my stuff and that a walk was out of the question. So I did. It started raining on that bus. At Lake, I collected my stuff from Linda and Stephen, and thanked them again for a lovely stay. I had just enough time to see one town, and I asked whether it would be most sensible to make that town Sandown or Ryde. They told me that Sandown wasn't worth seeing, so Ryde it was.

I set off for the station, and got on the next train. I got a little confused about where to go, as sense dictated that I'd need to get on on a different side to that I'd got off. Then I realised that there's only a single track. So I stood where I'd got off, and worked out that it was a funicular-style thing, with passing places. I made the journey to Ryde Esplanade station, and went to have an explore. It didn't seem very inspiring. It was just the sea front with a lot of closed shops. I went into a shop to try and find a present for Christian, and the best I could find was some generic seaside sweets. The woman in the shop recommended a pub for a quick meal, but I opted for the much more exciting Italian deli across the road. The woman in there was lovely, and I opted for a mini-pizza, which looked delicious. I vowed to go back to that shop, as it was impressive. I didn't fancy exploring any more as it was cold and dark, though I did have a quick walk to the east of the pier. Fairly uninteresting, and mostly deserted.

I went back to the Esplanade station and ate the tasty pizza, and realised I had loads of time, and that I could walk out to the pier rather than wait for the train in the cold wind. The walk wasn't particularly pleasant, but it gave me a feel for why there's a pier, and why the hovercraft leaves from the shore proper. It's a marsh. Not sure if the tide ever comes in to cover it, but you'd never get a boat in to shore. Interesting. At the pier terminal, there was still a bit of a wait, and I discovered too late that the queue began in Costa. Stupid system. I got on the boat, but still got the seat I wanted near the front, and we set off back to the mainland. The captain said that being low tide, he'd have to take a longer way in, but it didn't add much at all. I was again spellbound by the port tower and it's lovely blueness. We disembarked, and I tried to get a photo of the tower. I managed it through a gap in a gate, but it's not wonderful.

I got some food and drink from Costa (yes, they clearly have the monopoly), and went to board my train. I realised that the train I'd chosen was an incredibly slow one, and that it got to Waterloo much later than a train that left after it. So I boarded the later train, realising that I would be home well before Christian as a result, and settled in for the journey. It wasn't the most comfortable or enjoyable of journeys, much like the way down, and I couldn't concentrate on my audio book (not sure why). It seemed to take ages. But eventually we got back, and I got the tube to Marylebone, and then to Wycombe. There were no buses scheduled at all, and so I got a taxi home, arriving at about 9.30.

Walking from Lake to Niton

I had the alarm set for 7.30, but was awake before that. I had a shower and went downstairs for breakfast. I met Linda, and she sat me down at a lovely table next to the window. The back garden led directly to the Cliff Path. Stephen cooked a great breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, and black pudding, which set me up very well for the day.

I packed my bag and headed out via the back garden gate to the Cliff Path, and set off walking west. Like much of the coastal walking I've done, the route had plenty of variety. It began along a boardwalk, through Shanklin, then up above the cliff through Luccombe, then through woods, where I could see evidence of the big storm that had been through, and back down to the board walk to Ventnor, up on grassy hills, then took a wrong turn in the direction I wanted to go in, rather than investigated where the path actually went. The detour took me through farm land, and was quite nice, but quite a long way. I got myself right, and headed up another cliff and then followed fields for a few miles, coming back to sea level by taking a cool tunnel. By now it was getting late - my detour had taken quite some time. The walk in total was 11.8 miles.

I turned away from the sea, and headed up into Niton. Only to discover that the buses apparently run only every two hours. I dispiritedly got some food from the supermarket (it's a small village) and asked the woman there how I would best get a taxi. She gave me a number, but said that I would be better off asking people in the shop whether anyone was going to Newport and could I have a lift. I didn't fancy throwing myself at people's kindness, and so went out to eat, and to call the taxi. Luckily, I looked at the bus timetable in my bag, and realised that buses went more frequently from another stop. Which I couldn't find. I asked in another shop, and was pointed in the right direction, and found myself on a bus heading for Newport.

It was on this journey that I realised that the island is much bigger than I thought. The narrow road wound around and up and down. I did some research and realised that I would never make it out to Alum Bay and the Needles before it got dark. So I changed my plan, and decided to explore Newport and go north to Cowes instead. Newport was fairly uninteresting. A big town with a lot of high street shops. There were some more interesting ones, but I spent about 15 minutes walking around, and then headed back the bus station, but not before buying some plasters for my feet.

I boarded the bus for Cowes, and took the fast, major road through the gathering darkness. I'd bought a 24 hour ticket, so could ride buses as many times as I wanted. I got off at the ferry port, and had a wander. Central Cowes is made up of hilly, pedestrianised, cobbled streets, completely different to Newport. Almost all the shops have a nautical bent, and there's hardly a high street shop in sight. It was dark, but I could still tell that it was very nice. I ducked through a side-street arch to see the harbour, and walked around to the north face to look back on mainland UK. It was fairly bleak under those conditions, but again, I could tell that the story would be entirely different in summer.

I headed back to the bus stop, boarded a conveniently departing bus, and headed back to Newport. I didn't have long to wait for a bus back to the south coast, getting off in the main street of Lake, and walking back to the B&B. After strapping up my painful feet, and having a little rest in front of the TV, I went back out to get fish and chips from the shop I'd noticed in Lake. They wouldn't let me sit in the shop, and I couldn't eat it in Haytor Lodge, so I stood near the station wolfing it down as quickly as I could. It really wasn't very nice.

Back at Haytor Lodge, I relaxed in front of the TV, and had an early night.

Wycombe to the Isle of Wight

I left home at about 4pm, and made my way to Wycombe station, buying a combined train and ferry return ticket to Lake for about £107. Into Marylebone, tube to Waterloo, then train to Portsmouth Harbour. At Portsmouth, I had half an hour to wait for the next ferry, which was actually the fast catamaran service. We boarded, and the journey was quick and easy (18 minutes, I think?) on the Ryde pier, the transfer to the train was right there, and very convenient. The 'train' was a wonderful old Northern Line tube train from 1938 stock. It had been updated over the years, obviously, but was clearly a very old thing. Every time people got off, one of the doors got stuck and had to be persuaded on its way by the conductor.

The train went through a tunnel, and continued through the dark. I got off the train at Lake, and walked in the direction that I thought I needed to go. It was pretty dark, but I had it sorted. As the people who'd got off the train peeled off in various directions, I was aware of someone coming towards me. It was Stephen from Haytor Lodge, with a torch, to see me safely to my destination. Very kind.

We walked to Haytor Lodge, with him explaining about the trains, and went up to my room. Linda was busy as we came through the house. In my room, Stephen showed me everything, and left me to it, offering me a cup of tea downstairs. I was impressed at the level of detail they achieved in the room. There was everything I needed, including a bottle of water for walking. The room was lovely, and the bathroom a bit pokey, but perfectly comfortable, and warm. I made myself a cup of tea upstairs as I was a bit tired, and settled down to read for a while. It felt good to relax after the journey. I went to sleep not long after 10pm, with Christian still on his way to Newcastle.

Barcelona: Exploring on our own

We got up around 8 and went back for round two of breakfast. I had a similar selection, though added some chocolate cake to it, because I just had to try it. I was sorry to not have a third chance. There were no Rackers in evidence.

After packing up, and leaving our luggage with the concierge for the day, we headed out, taking a couple of photos outside the hotel, and then walking north to La Sagrada Familia. My imagination hadn't been wonderfully captured by the idea, but actually seeing it close up was much more impressive than I thought it would be. The sheer bulk of it, and the exquisite detail on the face were amazing. Unfortunately, the queue was horrendous, so we walked around the outside, but regretfully gave up on going inside.

We went into the nearby metro and took it south all the way to Parallel, and then took the linked funicular up part of the mountain to the bottom of Montjuic, an old military fortress begun in 1640, but demolished and rebuilt in 1751. We then took the cablecar to the top of Montjuic. The view of the whole city was brilliant - Christian took a video. At the top, we wandered around a little, taking in the view, and then went up onto the castle battlements. There wasn't a lot to see, apart from a memorial to a French astronomer, and a very large flag. We went below and sat to eat lunch. I bought it from the cafe, which was a little strange. I had lasagne, and Christian had chicken and chips.

We'd decided to walk back down the mountain, and so took our time, stopping for photos at fountains, and having a wander through some gardens. We got the funicular back to the metro, and then a metro diagonally across most of the city to Lesseps, from where we walked a fair way, mostly uphill, to find Parc Güell, the huge garden designed by Gaudi. We went to buy tickets, and discovered that they had timed entries, and that if we waited for the next opportunity, we would probably miss our coach pick up from the hotel. This was quite disappointing, after our Sagrada Familia experience, but it couldn't be helped.

We explored the vastness of the free section of the park, which was quite dry and dusty, but with some interesting design elements. There was a good view of the city. Near the top, we went out of the park for an ice cream, then realised we had to go back inside in order to get back down. We went a different way, seeing an interesting green parrot on the way. We exited the park via the main entrance, which we had failed to find on the way up, and saw much of the sculpture inside the the park that we would have to have paid for anyway, including the ornate front gates. It was interesting, but nothing amazing.

We made our way back down, stopping in a shop to buy some nice mosaic Christmas presents, taking the metro back to Passeig de Gracia, which was a fairly short walk back to the hotel. Inside, we found a few people in the lounge area, and soon after Steve and Kathrine arrived. Steve insisted on buying us all a drink, and the staff brought us some snacks to have with them. Kathrine and I had bubbly, and the boys had gin. We swapped stories of our day. It was a very civilised way to pass half an hour.

The other rackers gradually materialised, and we collected our luggage and went out to the coach for the last time. We drove back through the city to the airport, disembarked, and went to check in. We managed this with minimum fuss, and went through security to the shops and restaurants beyond. Christian and I had a wander to where our gate was going to be, and found the area devoid of any people, or anything interesting, and so went back to the central area, met up with Steve and Kathrine again, and sat in a cafe to get some food and drinks. The food selection was quite poor, but I got Christian a chicken pasta dish, and I had a baguette.

It was eventually time to go to the gate, and we weren't there long before they changed the gate on us, and the queue formed. We waited for the queue to dissipate, and then got on the plane. For some reason, I was feeling a bit anxious before even getting on the plane, and after a significant delay, we were finally on our way. There was a reasonable amount of turbulence, and so I continued to feel uneasy. We landed at Gatwick OK, though, got off the plane, and everyone went their separate ways.

Christian called the valet parking people, and we waited a ridiculous length of time for them to bring the car. It was frosty, and they said they had to defrost it, but they could have started the process before we called, knowing when our flight was due to arrive. Anyway, it was highly tedious, and Christian was rightly moved to complain about it. Finally on the road, we made a quick stop in Horsham to collect the laptop that Christian had managed to leave at Heather's, then heading north again, discovered that the house keys and some other bits were missing off his keyring. He called the parking people, who said that they often take off extraneous bits and leave them in the glove box. We couldn't find them while driving, so decided to chase it the next day and kept driving. It was enough to spoil the evening, though.

We got home near midnight (I think), and found the lost keys lurking down the side of the driver's seat. Helpful, that. We dragged our gear upstairs and fell into bed. There were a good few things that we didn't manage to see in Barcelona, and so intend to go back at some point. But it was a fantastic, and well organised trip (bravo, Emma!).

Barcelona: Treasure hunt, alternative transport, lunch, shopping, paella

We dragged ourselves out of bed at about 9.30, got ready for the day, and went down for breakfast. It took a while to find breakfast, winding through the succession of lavish rooms downstairs, but we eventually stepped out into the grandest, most beautiful breakfast area, under a huge marquee. In awe, we took our table under a (n unnecessary) heater, and went to explore the mountains of tasty food that was there for the taking. I started with cereal, then had a fried plate with toast, eggs, sausages, bacon, and then a plate of yoghurt and fruit. I really wanted to be able to try the cheeses and meats, the waffles and fruit compote, the cake, the Chinese breakfast, and the many other things that were set out. Most amazing breakfast ever.

We met the other Rackers in the foyer, and waited for everyone, some who hadn't had much sleep at all. There was a funny little man dressed like a Jew milling around. We were divided into groups, and given a bag, instructions, and a booklet to write our answers. Our group was me, Christian, Steve, and Kathrine. We set off as per the directions to find a fountain.We went past lots of fountains, but had difficulty finding the right one. In fact, we had difficulty finding the right street (La Rambla). Eventually, by asking people, we found the required fountain, which was in fact a drinking fountain in the middle of the shopping street. Apparently if you drink from it, you love Barcelona forever. We didn't. We wrote down the quote that was carved around it. We went on to do a number of other challenges, involving assembling the ingredients in the amazing food market to make Crema Catalana, counting palm trees, making bruschetta wearing boxing gloves, listing museums, looking for the names of city mayors and Roman emperors, etc. We were meeting for lunch, and so were getting short on time, though not even halfway through the booklet. We gave up, and got a cycle rickshaw thingo up to the restaurant. It was fun, though slightly scary when sharing the road with the traffic.

We took our seats in the nice restaurant with many floors, and had beers, and many courses of tapas served. Again, it was nowhere near as good as the place in Malta, but it was very pleasant. From there, we went our separate ways. Christian and I went back down La Rambla, having a look at the markets again, and buying ham and chocolate, having a look at the theatre with a view to a tour (the timings were wrong), and buying a few gifts. We ended up back down at the harbour, but further south than we'd been the night before. We had a wander, took some photos, and waited for the pedestrian bridge to let us further into the harbour complex. As we were waiting, I suddenly got very tired again, and we decided to walk back, looking for food places on the way. Back at the hotel, we asked the concierge where might be good for dinner that serves paella. He directed us to a restaurant called Farga.

After resting for a while at the hotel, we went back out for dinner. Farga was very smart, and the service was snappy. We had some very tasty sangria, and the paella was absolutely delicious, and very voluminous and not too expensive. We meandered back to the hotel, and turned in for the night, quite early.

Stupidly early flight to Barcelona

OK, so I believe in making the most of a holiday, but I'd picked up Christian from Heathrow at around 11 the previous night, and we'd driven to Horsham, getting to bed at 12.30. So the alarm at 4am was most unwelcome.

But get up we did, packed up very quickly, and got on the road to Gatwick. We arranged for the valet parking, did the compulsory two takes at finding the right place to leave the car, and waited for someone to arrive. Someone told us that we needed to go up the end, and so we did, finding the right person. That person proceeded to take many photos from many angles, apparently to prove that there was no damage prior to drop-off that could later be blamed on them. Anyway, it was a faff, and it was cold. We finally got inside, and went straight to the check-in counter, where we met Georgia. We checked in with no problems, and went straight through security. We were a little early at this stage.

We went to the same place for breakfast that we'd been on the way to Malta, and ordered some tasty food. Just before it arrived, I asked how much time we actually had to eat. After a slight panic, the food arrived quickly, and we inhaled it as best we could (I left a second cup of tea in the pot :-() and we made our way to the gate as the messages were saying that the flight was boarding. It wasn't of course, which made me mad, but we met up with the other Rackers, and particularly the lovely Steve and Kathrine. There were a few people I knew from Malta, but a lot of new faces, which was nice.

We boarded the Monarch flight, and I noted how little leg room there was. My knees were brushing the seat in front - I could only imagine how it was for tall people, though Christian didn't seem to mind. We had a small panic about where Christian's jacket was, but I remembered that he'd had it on when boarding, and hoped it was in the overhead locker (it was). The flight was comfortable enough, though I wasn't terribly impressed with Monarch - yes, they're a budget airline, but it all seemed slightly dodgy. I discovered that there was something stuck in my iPod's headphone jack, and so listened to music that was slightly skewed to the right. Christian pointed out snow-covered alps as we went over them. I ended up going to sleep near the end, as I didn't remember hearing about half of the album I was listening to. It was only an hour-and-a-half flight.

We landed in Barcelona without fuss, disembarked, and flashed our passports. The airport was big, shiny, and quite tropical looking. The Rackers all congregated just near the doors, while we were counted, and moved out to the coach. Again, it was a huge coach for not many people, but welcome all the same. It became clear that we actually had a tour guide this time (Beatrice?), and she arranged handing out of bottles of water, and gave us a spiel as we drove through the city. There was interesting architecture, notably an awesome red swirly building that I'd seen from the air. In the centre of the city, the architecture was graceful and Venetian in style. Everything was clean and well-maintained.

We went the long way around the block to get to the hotel, and our luggage was removed from the coach and taken up to our rooms for us. We, meanwhile, we taken to a dedicated Rackspace check-in desk, where we were given our room keys on big red tassles. The foyer and bar and function rooms downstairs were lavishly decorated. Unsurprising given the El Palace hotel used to be the Ritz. We were then taken to a room and fed canapes and bubbly. Amazing. Christian and I spent time with Steve and Kathrine.

We tore ourselves away, and went upstairs - it wasn't even lunch time at this stage. The room was huge, and lovely, with a chandelier, a balcony onto the street, a bed made up of two of the biggest single beds I'd ever seen, a TV pretending to be a mirror, and a bathroom with huge shower (with rainforest nozzle), bath, and his-and-hers basins. As we were exhausted, we had two or three hours sleep, which obviously wasn't enough, or even very satisfying. We made ourselves go out to see a bit of the city. We only had a vague plan, which involved food, and so decided to move in the direction of the harbour. We saw what there was to see, including an ATM with the numbers the wrong way around, and found ourselves on a harbour boardwalk, and decided to get some tapas (it was about 5pm by now). We also took some pretty awesome photos of the sunset.

We headed back in the growing darkness, and went up to get ready for our dinner out. We met the Rackers downstairs, and someone was buying drinks. I had a vodka, and Christian had a gin. I finished the vodka, but Christian really didn't finish the gin. We trooped back out to the coach and made our way through the city to the restaurant, El Principal. It had a lovely open courtyard, where we had drinks and nibbles, before moving inside to the dining room. We were on circular tables, and we had Steve, Kathrine, and Arrian on our table. It was a tasty dinner, and lots of fun, but wasn't a patch on the tapas meal in Malta. The speeches were much more concise, which was a small mercy. I was ready for bed at this point.

We filed back out to the coach, and headed to the beach, to the Opium club, after doing a circuit of the block looking for somewhere to stop among the hordes of people and taxis. We had our own section outdoors, but were surrounded by hundreds of punters. It was fairly laid back, though, and we had the makings of many cocktails involving vodka - quite a good arrangement, really, though the vodka seemed to disappear very quickly. This woke me up temporarily. I spoke to Paul, and Christian did the rounds, chatting and taking photos. We decided to go back to the hotel in a taxi, with Steve and Kathrine, at about 1am. By the time we got back to the room, I was so tired that I was randomly in tears. Much sleep was needed, and had.

Getting home among chaos

We woke up around nine, after everyone had left the flat, and ate yesterday's lunch for breakfast. We had intended to walk along the Water of Leith walkway to have a look at the Brittania before going to the station (I also wanted to check out Grassmarket), but due to the chaos and the cancellation of trains, we instead spent the morning trying to work out how to get home. The hire car option won, and Christian spent ages on the phone, finally booking one quite nearby. I was uneasy that we were abandoning our paid-for first-class train fare, and the comfort of an easy trip and food put on, and worried about the pressure on Christian to do so much driving (I couldn't because my licence was too new). But we couldn't take the chance, as trains were being cancelled all the time.

We finished packing up, left a note and the key for Georgia and John, and headed to the car hire place. The woman on the phone had given us the wrong quote, but they honoured the amount, and we were soon on our way in a brand new white Corsa. We stopped for fuel just outside the city, and drove south-west until the end of the A702, at which point we headed south-east on the M74. The weather was less than impressive - possibly the edge of the storm that had hit down south, but the scenery was very nice. We stopped at Gretna for a late lunch, found out our train had been cancelled anyway, and then continued on the M6, and then the M40. It was mostly an easy drive, but Christian got tired and headachy on the M40.

We got home around 8pm. Don't go anywhere, Edinburgh, we're coming back soon.

Edinburgh: The Blue Bear, walking lots, and the Sheep Heid

We had a lazy morning. We'd planned to meet Nikki at 2pm, and so felt obliged to have breakfast at the Blue Bear. It was nice, but not as wonderful as Georgia had made it out to be. I had scrambled eggs with a side of haggis, and Christian had the full breakfast, kindly sharing some black pudding and sausage with me. We walked on into town on a mission to buy me some waterproof trousers, and succeeded in finding some on sale in Nevisport. Win. We walked the length of Rose Street, which was very pleasant. There were interesting markets at the end, the owners of the stalls of which were frantically trying to stop them from blowing away. We turned north, passing some even more amazing markets with great food, and then joined the Water of Leith walkway the long way back to Inverleith Terrace. It was a lovely walk, and showed me a lot of Edinburgh that I hadn't already seen.

We hung around a bit in the flat, got ourselves ready, and went back out to meet Nikki at the Playhouse. The weather was looking less and less friendly. We met up, and Christian and I grabbed some sandwiches to have at some point on the walk. We walked south through the city, and then east into Holyrood Park. Nikki and Christian were not keen on the fact that it was raining and windy and suggested going around Arthur's Seat instead of up it. They asked me, as I was the tourist. I said I wanted to go up. We donned full waterproofs and started to ascend just as the weather got really horrible. We followed Nikki up the steep stepped path - it was fun, apart from the slipperiness of the stones. There was a green plateau after the first ascent. Then it got really steep. And windy. We scrambled up, and had a rest. There was a trig point, and a map of our surroundings. Nikki took a picture of Christian and me on the trig point, holding on for fear of being pushed over. We ate some biscuits. I'd never doubted my balance as a result of wind before, but it was so strong that I had difficulty walking and standing. I took a panorama of shots as best I could, but my hands were being blown around, and I had to move vantage points to see the horizon from every angle. It won't be very good. I went up the map with Nikki, and we looked at the map, again holding on for grim death. Christian took a video of us.

There were big black clouds advancing, and so we headed down, via a path that was rather easier than the way up. We sorted out which direction the Sheep Heid was, and made for it, via the road around the bottom of the hill. We were there quickly (at that point, we had covered 4.6 miles), and got a table. We had beers, and I had haggis, neeps, and tatties (again), and the other two had roasts. It was very nice. Nikki showed me skittle alley - it was amazing! It's a big, old-fashioned tenpin bowling alley, which you can book for functions. So atmospheric!

We donned our outdoor gear again, and headed out into the night. There was talk of maybe getting a bus, but apparently that was more trouble than it was worth. It wasn't raining as we started, but it started howling and bucketing quite quickly. Christian stopped to put his waterproofs on, while Nikki and I went on ahead, and she made her feelings about Scotland's elements known. We continued through the city, together most of the way back to Georgia's flat, and then we parted company.

Christian and I decided to walk past the Roamin' Nose, as Georgia said there was a banjo quartet there and it sounded interesting. We looked through the window: the band was on a break; there was only one banjo; there were no seats; we were tired. So we went back to the flat. John was there, just on his way out to join Georgia. Christian and I sat down and watched Ghostbusters and relaxed. Christian noted that due to the massive storm expected down south that the trains were likely to be interrupted. The others got home in time for Downton, and we watched it together. We met Al, who's a lovely guy. We went to bed soon after.

Edinburgh: Cufflinks, Perth, and the Roamin' Nose

We got up at about 8am, having not slept well, had showers, and were out the door before 9. We walked to Princes St, as Christian had forgotten to bring cufflinks. We tried a few shops, and were ultimately successful in Jenners (Edinburgh's main department store). We kept on to the station, and got tea/coffee while waiting for our train at 10.35. The platform was eventually called, and we made our way to the train. The signalling was broken, and so reservations had disappeared, and the station list on the screen was nothing like what what was passing the window, but the journey was nice - over the Forth bridge, and through increasingly hilly country.

We disembarked at Perth and made the short walk to the Queen's Hotel. In the foyer, we met Noel and Trina (Trina came to speak to me immediately), and Catherine and Brian, and Peter and Perry, and others. We were called upstairs, and had a pre-lunch glass of wine, and spoke to yet more old blues including Ian and John Cugley. They were all lovely, and interesting. It was a pleasure to finally meet John Shippen - he was very sweet.

We selected our meals (I chose smoked trout, chicken chasseur, and sticky toffee pudding), and settled down to chat. I was sat between Catherine and Christian (John had tried to engineer Christian being next to him, but someone else had taken the place). The most recent old blues (Rachel and Jacob) gave the toasts, and we ate. Catherine swapped places with Noel, and so I got to hear some extraordinary stories from him, including during the war when a German pilot had landed his plane in the grounds of the school, and the home guard (the older teachers and the older students) surrounded the plane not knowing what to do, and being at CH at the same time as Colin Davis, and hearing him play the clarinet and declaring that he'd be a conductor when he was older. Amazing. So interesting to talk to Noel.

After we'd had lunch, we had the address from Perry Kitchen, which was interesting and entertaining. Most notable was him giving the context for the foundation of the school by Edward VI in 1553. It was right before he died (aged 15), and after he had introduced compulsory church services in English as part of the Reformation, and the significant migration from the ecclesiastical musical world of Tavener and Fayrfax to that of Tallis, Shepherd and White. Much was also made of music and theatre at CH, which was nice. He gave the Housie toast. John Shippen gave news of those who couldn't make it, added to the music and theatre dialogue, and gave a toast to the guests. The group sang the Votum energetically, and then the party broke up. Christian and I decided to walk around a little of Perth, seeing a nice church, and an awesome playground. Back at the station, we had about 40 minutes to wait, and so we sat talking to Rachael until it came. Then we spoke to Heather (?) on the train. She'd been at CH in Hertford 1943-49. Christian asked about her life, and she told us a fascinating story about her journey through publishing. She encouraged me to contact Heinemann to try and get a job with them.

We got off the train at Waverley, and walked back to Georgia's (my feet were killing me). She had booked a table for us at the Roamin' Nose. We met John at the flat, got ready, and went out again. The restaurant wasn't far away. We sat down, and Georgia negotiated a tapas-style taster of starters and all the mains. We ordered a bottle of prosecco, and settled down to a fun and very tasty meal. I was most keen to try the seafood, and it was very good, though I got prawn juice all over my upper arm (John did too). Christian couldn't finish his dinner, which was unusual, but he and I paid as a thank you to John and Georgia - it was a very reasonable meal, at £15/head for the food. We wandered back to the flat, sat for a while in the living room, and went to bed.

Edinburgh: the Castle, walking in the sun, Mary King's Close, and dinner with Georgia

Christian woke me with a kiss just before we had the knock on the cabin door to wake up. Our tea and coffee was delivered, and we dodged each other around the cabin trying to get dressed before arriving in Edinburgh. We pulled into the station just before 7.30am, and deposited our luggage in the left luggage office.

Edinburgh was dark and grey and damp. We walked uphill from Waverley to the Royal Mile for breakfast at Garfunkel's, as that appears to be the only thing open before 9am in Edinburgh. The city seemed completely deserted. Breakfast was nice, though two coffees was something of a mistake. Of the two staff on duty, one was Australian, and of the six or seven punters, besides me, there was also an Australian family. We had a good percentage. We planned what to do that day, deciding on the castle first.

We walked up the rest of the Royal Mile, having a look at things on the way. I was frustrated because it was impossible to get reasonable photos of the sights, and it all looked a bit miserable as well. I particularly liked the black spires. We decided to go back to the National Trust's Gladstone's Land after the castle. There was a queue at the castle gate, which went through at 9.30. We followed them and bought our tickets.

The castle wasn't laid out how I expected it. It's basically a big circular walk uphill, with various museums and displays on the way up. We saw a war history museum, then a museum of the Royal Scots Regiment, as well as the war memorial (built in 1927 despite outward appearances), the tiny St Margaret's chapel, the crown jewels, and the great hall. We passed on the expensive afternoon tea. The castle was worth seeing, but wasn't overly exciting. And it just kept raining. Christian bought a tartan umbrella that broke as soon as he put it up.

We had planned to meet Alex for lunch, and so we walked down from the castle through a mostly retail area to the convention centre to find him (he was an a Linux conference). We waited with all the techies in the foyer with the funky furniture until Alex arrived. We went down the road to Thompson's Bar (I think), and got burgers for lunch and had a catch up. It took a while to get our food, but it was good when it came. He went off to the afternoon session, and we set off with the intention of going back up to the mile to see Mary King's Close. Trouble is, the sun came out brightly right then, and I couldn't bring myself to go underground. So we decided to wander until as late as possible.

Suddenly Edinburgh looked happy and friendly. We decided to go to look at the Meadows, via the Princes St gardens. To get to the gardens, we went through St Cuthbert's graveyard. A lot of the stones had been pushed over. Strange, or tragic. The gardens were lovely, especially with the castle behind them. To get to the Meadows, we went past the cafe in which J. K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, through the university area, with Bristo Square, and Potterrow, and Christian showed me all the Fringe venues, including Bedlam, on the wall out of the front of which he'd met Nikki. This area looks completely different outside Fringe time - Christian couldn't get over it. There were some new buildings, and we went into the Potterrow Student Centre building to use the conveniences. It was very nice. We then went to look at the Meadows, and did a small walk around the edge, before heading back up Middle Meadow Walk, seeing the Doctors' pub, which used to be a University Savoy Society hang-out, past Bedlam again, then up Chambers St and South Bridge to Black Medicine, a coffee shop that Christian wanted to visit. There is debate about whether it's the best coffee shop in Edinburgh. He had a smoothie and carrot cake, and I had chai and a chocolate rice bubble mars bar thing.

We headed back to the mile, and found Mary King's Close, a tourist experience showing the streets of Edinburgh that were built over. We bought tickets for 5.15, and sat in their cafe while we waited for the tour to start - Christian had potato and leek soup. We met the group at the appointed place and time, and our guide, dressed in mob cap and other appropriate garb, gave us the spiel about how the old streets had had their tops demolished and new buildings put on top, and showed us a model. The streets had been open to the air in the sixteenth century, much like the other closes that lead off the mile, but the solution to overcrowding in the city had been to keep building up, so the lowest parts of the mile had seven storeys by the end. The guide took us through various rooms, explaining how the plague had hit Edinburgh again and again, and how it was dealt with; a little about Mary King (a businesswoman), Mary Queen of Scots (who'd been held there overnight once), and the kinds of families who'd have lived there; some of the ghost stories that had developed; and dispelled the myths about people having been buried alive. It was very interesting, and the way it was done made you feel a little like you were back in the past. There was one AV display, which was quite clever, having different characters talk to each other from separate TV screens.

We went back out into the evening (in which there was a bit of light left), and went to find some dessert for Georgia. We walked down one of the closes on the way. Though intending to get something from M&S, we ended up getting a ridiculously decadent cake from Patisserie Valerie. I'd always wanted to try one. We retrieved our luggage from the station (after walking down the stone/marble steps that happened to be an art installation), and headed for Georgia's flat in the new town. With my luggage, it was a somewhat miserable trudge, as I was very tired by then, and my feet hurt. At least it was downhill.

We got to Georgia's, on the corner of Inverleith Terrace and Inverleith Row, and gratefully dropped gear, removed shoes, and sat down. She'd had a disrupted day, due to John-deprivation-induced insomnia, and so was still a bit harried when we arrived, but she kindly cooked us dinner (a delicious Italian vegetable pasta), chatting the whole time. Georgia made me cut the decadent cake, and we moved into the (huge, high-ceilinged, massive-windowed) living room, and chatted some more. We decided that it was bedtime around 10, and went to bed. Christian and I bravely attempted to share a single bed.

Travelling in romantic style on the sleeper train

Christian was coming from Hayes, and I was coming from Cambridge, and so we arranged to meet at Euston station, and made it there at about 7.15. We decided to eat at Prezzo across the road, and it was a nice meal. We mooched back to the station, and sat in another cafe until the train was ready to board. It seemed to take ages, and I was very tired. It was finally ready at about 11.15, and we went to get on the train, the Caledonian Sleeper. We were in coach M.

We ordered breakfast beverages, and found our cabin, which was smaller and more cramped than I'd imagined, but it was pleasant, and had everything we needed, including straps to ensure that you don't fall out of your bunk. We got ready for bed, and were tucked up before the train started moving at 11.50pm. The train didn't move very fast, and the motion was quite irregular, which took me some time to get used to. I did sleep, though, waking up a couple of times.

Diving adventures

I want to learn to dive.

I know I decided against it 18 years ago, but I'm willing to make the investment, and put myself on the line now.

I went for a try dive at the Wycombe SAC on 22 August. I didn't feel wonderfully comfortable or relaxed, but there were a few moments where I stopped thinking about all the things I was supposed to be doing, which felt good, and I took away the satisfaction of not panicking, and also learning a couple of things in the drills (yes, I can duck dive with a snorkel and not drown, and I can take the regulator out of my mouth and put it back while underwater and not drown), and even swimming better than I thought I could. We did a breathing exercise lying on the bottom, where we took deep breaths in, and rose up, and breathed out and sank down. It was a bit of a revelation as far as buoyancy physics went. We did a lot of swimming around and around the pit, but I was rocking around a lot from side to side, and my buoyancy was awful (Len was in charge of inflating and deflating my BCD). So I was happy with what I did, and took away some positives, and was keen to have another go. One of the biggest problems was my ears. When I got near three metres deep, my ears blocked, in a rather uncomfortable way, and I couldn't unblock them. It didn't hurt, but the pressure was unpleasant.

A week later I had my left ear syringed (the right didn't need it), and could suddenly hear an awful lot better, and so was ready to try another dive to see how my ears would behave.

My second try dive was 5 September. Len didn't need me to do the swimming again. He got me in snorkelling gear to try a stride entry first. Once I'd practised and got it right, I put on the dive gear and tried it again. A slightly alarming thing to do, but I managed it. Once in the water, Len put me in charge of my buoyancy, so I was to inflate and deflate my BCD. He said that after having deflated it to go down, I had to inflate it again to stop hitting the bottom, but I couldn't get the hang of that (and got sore knees). We did some more swimming around and around near the bottom again, and some more of the lying on the bottom drill. He even had me doing a somersault underwater - it was difficult, and so I had to kick myself around. My ears blocked again, and I made a superhuman effort to clear them. Grabbing my nose and blowing out just doesn't work. I realised that swallowing was the answer, but that seems to destabilise my mask seal because of movement through my nose. We did more reg changes underwater, including dropping it, and twisting yourself wildly to make sure you were scooping up the hose with your arm. We did some buoyancy control exercises using the lines of tiles on the pool wall, which again I wasn't great at, but by the end of it, I was much better at making small changes by just using my breathing. At the end we did some mask clearing drills. I was fine until he had me break my mask seal to let water in. I somehow ended up with it straight up my nose, and so shot to the surface to cough and splutter. I'd had enough by then anyway.

I felt like I hadn't done very well immediately after the session, but after a while I realised it wasn't that bad. I'd managed most of the drills, still not panicked (apart from the nose full of water thing), and had been brave enough to try the mask clearing. I was also rocking from side to side a lot less. I didn't really think about my trim, so no idea how rubbish that was. Anyway, I was sure enough that my ears would be OK.

I found that my ears were a bit reluctant to clear on the flight we had to Malta, but that by the end of the flight home, they were much better.

I had another pool session last night, 19 September. Christian took his twinset to do some drills, and I planned to swim and snorkel. I started with a swim, and surprised myself by doing 200m in 7.33 (though I was worn out), meaning that I could probably do the GUE 275m within 14 minutes with practice. I then got my mask and snorkel and followed Christian around on the surface. It was a fun thing to do - feeling the bubbles hit me, and grabbing them with my hands. I did a few duck dives, trying to get right to the bottom. My ears blocked up, but unblocked quickly. Christian said that that was because I wasn't breathing underwater. The other guys said I should swim down to him and give him an 'out-of-air' signal so he'd give me one of his regulators. He was too deep for me to do it comfortably, and it turns out it could have been quite dangerous. We tried it when he was in a more shallow bit, but without weights on, I couldn't stay submerged for long enough. I should have left my lungs empty, but I didn't think of that at the time. I swam around a bit more, and then tried a breath hold underwater with my mask on. I managed to do the length of the short shelf of the pool, which I think was probably 10 metres. It's a start. At least I know how it feels to desperately need to breathe and have to stop yourself. My lungs were expanding and contracting, despite not taking in any air. That seemed to help. Anyway, I'll keep up the practice like that and hopefully I'll get stronger and better.

The next challenge is working out what to do with my actual training. The best way would be to do GUE training intensively in Malta with John, but Christian found out recently that the training alone would cost £750. With transport and accommodation and food, that figure will probably double, just for me. So we're now thinking that BSAC through Wycombe might be better, but if John gets other takers for the course, the price might drop. Not sure what to do. Wait and see for now.

Stupidly early start for Malta -> Gatwick -> Hazlemere

The alarm was set for 4.50, and I think we managed to be awake just before it went off. Such is the plight of those who know they must be awake at a certain time. We lay around for a little while, as we had time, then finished the packing, and headed downstairs for the 5.35 call.

There weren't many people there, but there was a continental breakfast for us, which was very welcome. Turned out that others were making their own way, so only eight of us got on the coach for the airport. We trundled in silence through the quiet city, and disembarked at the busy airport. After lining up at the wrong desk (Air Berlin), we found the slowest queue ever, and then the stupidest woman behind the counter. Firstly she gave Christian James's boarding pass, and then after we'd gone back to correct the mistake, put Christian in the row in front of me. We went back again, but she insisted it had been pre-booked and couldn't change it. We tried at the enquiry desk, but they said they couldn't change it either.

Fairly disgruntled by now, we went through security, and headed straight for the nearest Air Malta gate staff. They were able to fix the problem within two minutes, though they couldn't print another boarding pass. Very silly business.

We sat waiting for the flight. Christian went off to buy some jigsaw puzzles. Then we went through passport control (?) and to our gate. We sat for a bit in the freezing room, and then went to Costa for a tea for me and a toastie for Christian. The flight was finally called (late), and we walked onto the plane. I sat in between Christian and Olaf - the Rackers were generally co-located again. It was a quiet flight. The breakfast they served was awful, but they got us there OK, even with a pretty strong cross-wind at Gatwick. We went through passport control (again?), collected luggage, and headed for the train station, saying goodbye to a few Rackers as we went.

We bought tickets to Horsham, got some sausage rolls from the pasty shop, and after some difficulty, found ourselves on platform 5. The Littlehampton train arrived, after two Brighton trains, and we got on for the short journey. It started to rain. Heather pulled up in Christian's car just as we walked out to the car park, and we jumped in. She drove us to Chesworth Gardens, and we only stopped briefly (with Christian sabotaging Heather's key ring), before heading for Hazlemere. The M25 was sadly broken. We called in at the office to collect a delivery (which wasn't the new laptop) and then for some fuel and shopping at Hayes Tesco. And then we were home between 1 and 2pm. Exhausted.

What a great trip. Brief, but very enjoyable, and carefully planned by the wonderful Emma.

Malta, Gozo, and Comino

Neither of us had slept wonderfully well (the click of the air conditioning kicking in was quite loud), but we stayed in bed until 9am, which was a bit luxurious. We got ready slowly, and got downstairs for breakfast before 10am (it finished at 10.30). I hadn't been sure whether I'd be able to eat much, but I managed a decent breakfast. It was tasty. Michael and I had a brief conversation about the Australian election. I made my views clear, but didn't quite work out what his were.

Christian and I packed for our day out (including leaving the SLRs behind and packing our phones in the waterproof box), and headed back downstairs for our 11am rendez vous. By the time everyone was there, it was predictably late, but it was a short walk to the closest side of St Julian's harbour. We walked down to the dock, and there was a large black RHIB, and two more sedate white launches with forward-facing seats. Christian and I ended up on the RHIB. There were padded seats down the middle, and so we didn't have to sit on the edges.

We pootled out of the harbour, and then the skipper jumped on the throttle and switched on the deafening dance music. It was fun for a while, but got a bit much with everyone shouting and the wind beating in my ears as well. We headed in the general direction of Gozo, but stopped off near Comino on the way to look at some caves, driving up into one of them that had a beach at the end - pretty cool - and to look at the crystal lagoon. We kept on to Gozo, and the two other boats were waiting for us, having not stopped off apparently. We joined them on the pier, next to the giant ferry on the other side.

Emma had arranged for a bus tour to the town and the beach for €10 pp. Christian and I decided we didn't want to go to the town, and so we decided to get a taxi to the beach at Ramla l-Hamra for €4 pp, along with four others. The drive was nice enough, though going through the town was a bit scary, what with narrow roads, oncoming traffic, and unannounced road closures. We got out of the nastiness, and headed downhill to the beach. The driver agreed to pick us up at 1.40 so we'd be back at the harbour for our 2pm departure.

The beach didn't look like much. It had orange sand, and no waves. But it was quite large. We found a spot and ran into another splinter group, including Sab, Ron, and James, who'd also got a taxi. Christian and I got our snorkelling gear out and headed for the water, moving up slightly to avoid the rocks. It was quite warm and the water was crystal clear. We pointed our faces at the bottom. The coral and the fish were a revelation to me. The coral wasn't too exciting, but it was only in a couple of metres of water, so clearly visible, and the fish were plentiful and not shy. Many were silver with black tails, but there were some beautiful purple and yellow ones, and some beautiful stripy ones feasting on the coral. A bit further out, it got deeper and more interesting. I did a few duck dives to look closer. We didn't have fins, but it didn't matter, I was able to float on the surface with no effort, and cover distance with a lazy breaststroke. It was heavenly.

We had to get out in order to dry out for the taxi. James had borrowed Christian's mask and snorkel, and the snorkel somehow died. So Christian went up to the shop to buy another. I did my best to dry out, and got burnt. Christian came back, having paid €18 for a mask and snorkel, and then it was time to go. We found the taxi driver, and our four companions, and headed back to the harbour with no issues.

As not everyone was there, we got an ice cream. We then boarded the RHIB again, this time at the back, and headed off to Comino, going through a narrow opening in the rock on the way for fun. The blue lagoon on Comino was packed, and as we got off into the relentless heat, with no space, and no possibility of shade, I felt uncomfortable. We found some lunch and cowered on the shady side of the public toilets to eat it, watching the lizards. From that vantage point, we could see a nicer place to go swimming, and headed for it. We left our gear on the very sharp rocks, and submerged ourselves. It was less clear here, because there was so much more activity, but it was still pleasant. I couldn't help wishing we could have stayed on Gozo for longer.

Time got away, and so we had to get out, and walk back to the pier. All the Rackers met up, and waited for the boats. The RHIB came first, and so we got on (again at the back) and departed. Christian pointed out how sunburnt I was. I'd put cream on my face, shoulders, and what of my back that I could reach, but had forgotten to ask Christian to do the rest. We roared off back to St Julian's harbour, with the skipper throwing in some tight corners and racing jetskis just to liven things up. He then had to try to fix one of the motors, which had lost its fuel injection and so was only operating on two-stroke. He said we only got back by the grace of god. We pulled into St Julian's harbour, but early, and so he changed his mind, and went back out into the open sea to do some figure eights and 360s. It was such a manoeuvrable boat.

Back at the dock, Mark and Christian tipped the skipper and we walked back up to the hotel. Christian and I didn't even bother going to our room. We went straight to the main pool and got in. It would have been rude not to make use of the wet bar, and so we sat on the submerged seats - I had a vodka and cranberry juice, and Christian had a gin and tonic. There were quite a few other Rackers around. After we'd finished our drinks, we got out and headed for the lido.

There were a couple of other people around. We donned our masks and snorkels and got in. It felt cold to start with, but in reality it was warmer than the main pool. The water was quite deep, with a fair bit of movement, but there was coral on the bottom, and a good number of fish. It was a different feeling from the beach, as the environment was more expansive. There were steel frame things and bits of concrete on the bottom, and I got an inkling of what it felt like as a diver to see a wreck. The fish were similar to the ones at the beach, but Christian thinks he saw a lion fish, and we saw two very large fish that looked a bit like tuna, but Christian said they were probably sea bream. I did a couple of duck dives. It was a lovely experience.

We got out, and got into the first of the saltwater pools. It was warm, and pleasant. But then we spotted the slide. We had to get out and go to the higher of the two pools, but it was fun. Christian did it twice. We went back up to the main pool to 'rinse the salt off' (?) and got some beers at the bar. We chatted to Andy and Mark. And Andy's daughter Georgie. She wanted to know why Christian wasn't going to eat the lime in his beer. She had also decided that ladies don't drink beer, despite the fact that her mother was drinking some. Then she thought Christian falling off his stool was hilarious, and wanted him to do it again. So I 'pushed' him off and he did a melodramatic disappearing under the water. She roared at that.

It was time to go, and so we took our gear upstairs and had showers. I'd thought it would be nice to go into Valletta for dinner, but it turned out to be a journey on the bus of over an hour, and 20 mins in a car. We abandoned that, and decided to do what Christian had preferred, which was to eat in one of the hotel's impressive looking restaurants. So we chose the barbecue buffet over the a la carte bistro, walked in, and were seated outside in the balmy evening.

We ordered a glass of prosecco each, and started with antipasto, including marinated calamari, spinach tart, salmon, cheeses, cold meats, salad, and bread. It was a perfect amount. We then had some mussels. I had the traditional ones in white wine, and Christian had Spanish style, with chorizo. We had to ask for finger bowls, but they were very good. We ordered a bottle of beaujolais to have with the mains, and headed for the barbecue. I had swordfish, tuna, beef, and pork belly, with salads. It was extremely good. Then it was time for dessert. We had a selection of petit four style treats, such as white chocolate delight, a choc mint mousse, apple and cinnamon mousse, pistacchio and mascarpone cake/mousse, and a rich chocolate mousse cake (can't remember all their pretentious names). Then Christian had a coffee. We couldn't finish the wine.

It was a lovely dinner, and a perfect end to an awesome day. It was peaceful and relaxed, and we talked about prospective wedding plans. :-)

We wandered back upstairs, and Christian was keen to go for a walk, and a late night swim. My swimmers were still quite wet, and so I wasn't keen, but I engineered a plan to wear pants and a top. We wandered back down to St Julian's beach, choosing a path beside the water that resulted in a dead end, which meant that I clambered over a railing, and Christian walked through the water, but we got to the beach in the end. It was difficult getting in, but not too cold actually. We had a bit of cuddly mooching in the water, and then, having proved our point, made our way back to the hotel, where we had another shower. We did most of the packing, and got in bed at about 11pm.

Hazlemere to Gatwick to Malta

The alarm was set for 6am (eeeek), but we got ready slowly, finished the packing, and were on the road at 7.15. We got to Horsham before 9am, collected Heather and Dorothy, and drove to Gatwick. We dropped ourselves off, and Heather drove the car back to Horsham.

We found the right desk, and checked in easily, bumping into a couple of Rackers. It was then time for second breakfast, so we went through security, found a cafe, and I had a sausage, bacon, and egg bap, with Yorkshire tea, and Christian had scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, watching the big planes out the window, and listening to the annoying drilling that was happening either above or below.

We had a wander around the airport, looking for a lock-up bag for the camera bag (and failing), and looking at some shiny technology (but not buying it). There was a caviar, salmon/seafood, and champagne place that was insanely expensive, and I couldn't help wondering what it was like to have enough money to actually eat there. They had foie gras and all sorts of amazing stuff.

It was time to go to the gate, and we had a decent walk to get there. The Rackers arrived steadily, and we got on the plane, in a vaguely geographically located group. The flight was fine (very little turbulence). We could see some Swiss and Italian alps through the window, with a reasonable amount of snow on them. Then we saw the west coast of Sicily, which had a noticeable cloud shape over Mt Etna. The only turbulence we had happened here. We landed in Malta just after 4pm EU time - on the approach, all the fields were very brown. We got through passport control, and Sab (carrying his fins, as ever) failed to find our transfer people among the sea of signs being held up. Some of the rest of us found it (at a shopfront right at the back) and started to congregate in the right place. Once everyone was there, we walked out to the coach and headed out into Malta.

The first thing that struck me was its continued brownness. It was hilly, and there were a lot of small square buildings. More like the middle east than Greece. The first vegetation I saw was oleander, palms, and pampas grass. And then as we went along, we saw what was the more native cactus. All the buildings (with a few exceptions) were brown and boxy. Even the new ones were built in the same style. I was surprised that they drive on the left, and also that all the road signs were in English, despite Malta declaring as a republic in 1964 (though still part of the Commonwealth). We spotted sea after a while, and the coach pulled into the impressive frontage of the Radisson Blu. We filed off (not enough people to justify a coach), and were presented with a welcome drink in the foyer. It was brown and vile. It managed to give the promise of sweetness with every mouthful, but ending in a horrid bitterness. It was apparently a traditional Maltese drink, but I have no idea whether it was alcoholic.

Christian checked us in, and we took the lift up to the seventh floor, room 728. It was big and comfortable, with a balcony looking to the north-east (i.e., plenty of sea view, with lots of boating activity). We did a little settling in, and gathered our things to do a bit of exploring and socialising. I discovered that my sunglasses frame had cracked, but I didn't have any tape to stick it back together. So we asked the concierge for some sticky tape, and Christian won the engineering contest by taping the frame back up before putting the lens back in. We walked through the restaurant upstairs, then took the external stairs to the main pool area. There was a wet bar (that closed at 5.30) and loads of sun lounges, though the sun had gone down behind the hotel building by then. We walked to the edge of the pool area to look out over the sea, and then turned right to explore the rest of the property. There was a dive shop (who would only hire out fins to us for the princely sum of €15 pp), and two more pools (salt water, with a slide from one to the other), and a 'lido', which consisted of a ladder into the sea at the corner of the land.

We headed back up to the bar, where most Rackers were congregated, and ordered cocktails: me a frozen banana daquiri, and Christian a lavender G&T (which was apparently quite good). My slushy was huge and difficult to consume, but very nice all the same. We sat for a while, chatting a bit (I met a few more people), and at 7pm, went back upstairs to get ready for the night out. We all congregated again in the foyer for 7.30 (after another cheeky beer in the bar), and Ron and I had a chat about how good Christian is, and what a bright future he has ahead of him, then a fleet of taxis took us to Tapaz, which, unsurprisingly, is a tapas restaurant. Upon arrival, we were presented with a glass of bubbly. The restaurant was very classy, quite dark, and beautifully decorated.

We walked around and chatted, mostly to Michael. We found a spot at a table, near Michael and Huegot, and were offered wine - a choice of two whites and two reds. Christian and I went for the local merlot, which was delicious. The staff then brought out a procession of the most amazing food I've had for a long time. Everything from sushi-style salmon, to marinated anchovies, to pate, to chorizo in sauce, to meat skewers, to calamari, to meatballs in pepper, to bread filled with pesto and topped with spinach and tomato, to patatas bravas covered in bacon, to asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. The wine was kept flowing at an alarming rate, and the service was excellent.

The food stopped, about which everyone breathed a sigh of relief, because everyone was full to bursting. But then they started bringing EVEN MORE FOOD out. I managed a piece of everything, apart from the pork ribs. The final dish, the paella, was amazing.

Then came the presentations. Each manager gave a speech singing the praises of each Racker there, and got them up on the stage. They got Christian and Michael up together, which was a bit of a fizzer, but then again, they aren't sales staff. Olaf started going on a bit, so another, even drunker Racker (Mark) got up and tried to stop him. He ended up going on even more, and they switched off the mic on him. They finally got through everyone, and moving on to the salsa club was announced. But then the staff brought out the ice cream! There was a scoop of pistacchio, a profiterole, and a chocolate mousse ball sealed and wrapped in vanilla ice cream. Stunning! And THEN they brought us some limoncello. The staff were trying to shoo us out by now as it was midnight, so I drank my limoncello a lot faster than I would have liked.

We were all finally out on the footpath, in the loud, crass St Julian's strip, and made our way down the road to the salsa club. They'd set aside a room for us, with the roof drawn back, and couches, and a screen with the Rackspace logo swinging around. It was a nice space, and was still lovely and warm out. The first drink (something red in a champagne flute) was even more horrible than the welcome drink at the hotel. I couldn't finish it. Christian had a vodka and tonic (much more wisely than me). Christian and I spoke mostly to Nathan and Ellie. Nathan had a go at taking some photos of us, and despite not knowing what he was doing, some of them turned out well.

As we were tired, we headed back to the hotel at about 12.30. It was a very short walk, past the beach in St Julian's harbour (so tempting to go in). Once back, we put on the air conditioning and fell into bed.

Circumnavigation of Portland, and home to Hazlemere

We'd set the alarm for 7.30, but had again slept fairly fitfully. I asked Christian for a few minutes to wake up properly before getting up, and he responded by pulling the plug of the ready bed and letting it go down. How rude!

We packed up all our gear and the tent. I went to the amenities block while Christian readied his kit, and he was waiting outside when I'd finished. We drove again to the Aqua, and sat eating our breakfast with Fiona and Paul. The others arrived, kitted up, and the RHIB arrived at about 9.45. I left them to it, and set off on my walk around Portland.

The south west coast path started just off the nearest roundabout. The first bit of the path was quite long and steep - the Merchant's Incline. There was a sign saying that the path via the east cliffs was 5 1/2 miles. Brilliant, I thought. I'll be back in two hours, have some lunch with the divers, and then head back to Weymouth beach for a sunbathe. At the top, the sign pointed to the Merchant's Railway to the right, I began to follow it, but it wasn't in the direction I wanted to go. So I went back and followed a path in the other direction, but ended up at a dead end on a road. So I went back the first way. After going under a bridge, the walking was pleasant and grassy for a while. I saw a sign about the quarry's and transporting stone, and then after walking up some stairs and seeing a fortress-style thing, read about the prison.

After a little more walking, I came across a family farm park, with goats. And wallabies. Hmmm. A mountain bike posse passed me. I followed the east cliff for a way, seeing the breakwalls of the harbour, and the view out to sea, and then walked alongside a youth offenders institution for a while. The path then zigzagged steeply downhill towards the water, and the vegetation got a bit more lush. The cliffs rose to my right, and I came across some rock climbers. I saw a RHIB that I thought might be our lot, but later found out it wasn't them. I then came to Church Ope Cove - a stony beach with a few huts and people on it.

I followed signs to a thirteenth century church, which was quite cool. It must have been around then that I took a wrong turn. I headed up through vegetation that was suddenly rainforesty. The path went uphill, away from the sea, and emerged beside a big, posh, castle building, with a lot of 'private' signs around it, and then at a road. In the absence of signs, I crossed the road and walked past a quarry, and then through an equestrian centre, passing some girls on horses (one with pink hair) (the girl, not the horse). I came out on a road and had no idea where to go, so I consulted the technology. I was nowhere near the path. I was somehow confused into thinking that I had turned the corner at the end of the point and so had to go cross country to get to the west side. Wrong! I didn't want to cut the end off because I wanted to see the lighthouse, and all the bits in between. So I walked on roads for a good half hour, through Southwell, and joined the path not too far after Church Ope Cove. Oh well.

I then followed the path through a stony section of coastline, with large ancient cranes hanging over the edge. I could now see the end of the point, and it got grassier, with huts, and a lot more people. I stopped on a seat, let Christian know I wouldn't be back for lunch, and finished the walk to Portland Bill and the lighthouse. I had a cheeseburger from the Lobster Pot, sitting for a while eating it, and then went on my way. I followed the path past the lighthouses, some lovely rocky features, and a military installation. The path after this was simple, and along the grassy edge of the cliffs. I was conscious that I needed to be back in time for the end of the dive, and thought there was a chance, given the second dive had had a ropes off of 1.30.

I saw a few eagle/kestrel type birds just hovering on the wind, and then diving a little, then hovering again. They were beautiful, but I didn't have a big enough lens to capture them. As I approached Chiswell, there were some some sections of the path closed because of instability. But the six-month ban was up that day, so I just went past the barriers. I found out then that ropes off had been delayed until 2pm, so slowed down a little. My feet and legs were really struggling by now, but I came down off the cliff and went through the streets of Chiswell back to the Aqua. I only had time to rinse my feet, put plasters on my heels to cover the giant blisters, buy a soft drink, and sit in the car for a short while before the intrepid divers came back.

Christian rinsed his dry suit, but just packed the rest to rinse at home. We left fairly quickly, after saying goodbye to those who were left. Niamh had apparently got loads of scallops, so we tried to find the boat ramp to pick some up, but failed to find it. So we kept driving. The traffic was a bit icky, but we kept on, and got home at about 7.15.

Weymouth

We were awake at 6.30 due to the lack of walls, and general campsite noise, but the alarm didn't go off until 7am. We got up, and Christian put together his diving kit. We could see now that there was a lagoon downhill from the campsite, then a hill, then the open sea. We wandered to the amenities block, and I went to investigate breakfast. Not a soul in either the pub or reception. So we decided to head into Portland and have breakfast at the Aqua Hotel.

It was a quick drive, east to Wyke Regis, and then across the causeway to the Isle of Portland. The causeway is flanked the whole way by Chesil Beach, looming on the right. We arrived not long after 8. There were no obviously diver-looking people there (though the only person we'd met and could recognise was Libby). Christian went outside to sort parking out, and I ordered breakfast and sat down. Two other people in the cafe were talking about a dive, and I thought I heard one of them say Christian's name. Christian came back, and based on what I heard, went up to speak to them. They were indeed from High Wycombe - Paul and his daughter Fiona. Breakfast arrived, and we ate. Christian updated his dive log.

Libby and Nick and Kiran arrived, and everyone kitted up for a 9.45 ropes off. There was nothing for half an hour, and then Libby rang. Apparently the tractor that launches the RHIB had broken down. So Louise and Niamh arrived at the dock 45 mins late. Everyone loaded their gear, and Louise gave everyone a briefing on the dive, and on how to ride the RHIB. They eventually threw the ropes off an hour late, and headed out for adventure.

I, on the other hand, set off walking. I'd decided that I would walk to Weymouth in one direction and get the bus back in the other. So I headed back across the causeway. The bay was full of sailing boats and small craft, and looked lovely. But Chesil Beach was taunting me with interestingness. I wasn't sure if you were supposed to just run up it, but I could see people up there in the distance. So I found a spot where I could get over the grass easily, and trudged my way up the clinky stones (shale, according to the signs). As expected, it was difficult to walk in, but I got to the top, and looked over into the beach below. There was no one there apart from fishermen. I took some photos (including a panorama), and walked down the other side. The further I went, the further I wanted to go. It was a very steep drop down to the waves, and I stopped just before I got wet feet. The waves were small, and mostly slapping down a couple of feet, making a hissing sound as the water drained through the stones. I couldn't face walking along the beach for any length of time, so I went back over the top and back on to the path.

It didn't take long to walk the rest of the causeway, and I started to climb the hill on the other side, expecting Weymouth town centre to be quite nearby. Except it wasn't. There was an awful lot of Wyke Regis. And then the road turned right, and just kept going. Eventually, I got to Weymouth, which was a total distance of 8 km, and stopped at Asda to try and buy a beach towel. I failed - getting some face washers - and had some cheap fish and chips for lunch instead. I continued on into the centre of Weymouth, finding all the shopping streets, and then the nasty high street ones, and managed to buy a case for my phone for £17. Win.

I then followed signs for the beach, and found a beachy paradise, where the first thing I saw was the Punch and Judy show. I sat down on the sand, corresponded with Christian via text, as he'd finished the first dive, and just watched the world go back for a while. It was warm, and I wished I was wearing fewer clothes, and had a towel to stretch out on. I got up to move at about 4pm, and had a wander up to the old harbour, which linked up with the way I'd gone into the city. Back to the beach, I caught a number 1 bus back to Portland. The journey seemed to go embarrassingly quickly considering how long the walk had been.

Back at the Aqua, I waited only a short time, watching the chav kiddies make fools of themselves, and some idiot in a mastless yacht go round and round the harbour before mooring on someone else's mooring. The divers came back around 5pm, packed up, and we went back to the campsite. We only had an hour to kill before going back into Weymouth for dinner with the group, and so Christian put info in his dive log from the day, I sat in the sun and had a very welcome shower. The dirty boy did not.

We went to meet Louise somewhere in the campsite at 7pm, finally finding her, having pitched her tent right across the road from reception, in desperate need of a shower. She told us to go on ahead, and so with no clear idea of where we were going, we drove into Weymouth and parked near the old harbour.

As we were walking in the general direction of restaurants, we bumped into Niamh, Paul, and Fiona. We decided on a pub/restaurant nearby (can't remember its name - someone and someone), and went in. We found a table, and Nick arrived, Louise arrived, and Kiran arrived. Paul bought a round of drinks, and we drank. It transpired that the restaurant was booked out, so Niamh tried to ring around, but Louise won by booking Prezzo for 9.15. Then Niamh was at the bar at the time of Christian's round of drinks, and managed to get a spot in the restaurant we were in for 9pm. At the allotted time, we went upstairs.

I had a lobster bisque fish pie, which was tasty - Christian had lamb stew. Food and service were pretty good. After sorting out the bill, Christian and I took our leave to avoid parking fines, and drove back to the campsite. As it was 10.30, we got ready for bed, and crashed. It was much colder that night.

Hazlemere to East Fleet (Weymouth)

I caught the bus from Hazlemere (with the forgotten tent) to Wycombe bus station, and then the park and ride up Marlow Hill to Cressex (M40 junction), where I met Christian at 6.15 on his way home from work.

It was a relatively quick drive to Weymouth, and we stopped at one services, were unimpressed by the food, and so stopped at a second, which was little better. We eschewed the McDonald's queue and got toasties from Costa.

We arrived at the campsite at 9.15, got instructions, drove through the coded gate, and found our plot with some difficulty. The tent went up easily, the readybed went up easily, and we wandered down to the pub for a potential drink and activity planning. I realised at this point that we'd forgotten towels. Because reception was closed, I asked the man behind the bar about hiring towels, but the best he could do was offer some paper towels, or suggest I use my cardigan. Hmmm. There was no internet to do planning, and so we decided to call it a night. After our ablutions, we settled down for sleep. It was fairly windy and cool outside, but warm in the tent. It cooled down over the course of the night.

St Cirq to Hazlemere

Alarm before 7am. Ouch. We got up and packed up the last of our things, leaving Sandie's air mattress, foam mats, and pump (and sadly, our electric pump in the room with the sleeping baby), and filled up the car. My ears were thankfully unblocked. Hurrah!

We grabbed some coffee in our insulated mugs, some croissants, and said a last goodbye to Sandie and to Rachael (who was still trying to get John up). We programmed the satnav to take us to Calais via Brive, Rouen and Chartres, avoiding any unpleasantness in Rouen, and set off before 8 into the blinding sunshine. We stopped and I got out to take a few photos of the sunflowers, being asked by a passing local whether I was OK. I didn't think quickly enough, and answered stupidly in English.

At Brive, we stopped at a Carrefour to get fuel, and to stock up on supermarket items. We had to wait until the shop opened at 8.30. We bought confit, rilletes, saucisson, camembert, Rocamadour goat's cheese, wine, beer, and various other things, costing us €120. Oops. We bumped into Rachael and John there. We continued on, stopping again at a supermarket to find coffee, but failing. Christian got tired (he hadn't slept well), and we stopped at a basic roadside park for me to take over the driving. It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be, as I'd got used to being on the wrong side of the road generally. I had to take an exit after about 20 minutes, and then stayed on the new road for about an hour, which I somehow managed to clear of traffic. We stopped again at the same l'Arche we'd stopped at on the way down, and Christian grabbed an iced coffee, and a diet coke. I drove on for a while longer, then stopped for another comfort break, where Christian took over driving again. We saw Rachael and John here too.

It was now lunch time, and we stopped at the next foody services near Orleans and got pasta salads for lunch. Back on the road again, we left the A21 and took a minor road, sharing it with a lot of farm vehicles, towards Chartres. At Chartres we got fuel. On the way through Chartres I could see the enormous cathedral and wanted to go there. Next time. We kept going to Rouen (avoiding road works), and I fell asleep around then. I woke up and made myself more alert, as Christian said he might want me to drive again. We stopped for a McDonalds coffee soon after, which included a comedy drive-through shouted conversation in French over my head. There was another cathedral in Rouen that I wanted to see. By now, Christian was properly awake again, probably because he had someone to talk to again.

From there we mainly hugged the coast up to Calais. We got stuck in a big road works traffic jam, while Christian badly needed the toilet. We stopped at a roadside park, used the disgusting facilities, and got covered in bugs.

At Calais, having arrived at about 6pm, there were no ferries until the one we were booked on at 8pm, so we checked in, left the car in the appropriate lane, and went for a walk in search of food. We failed. So we set up the laptop to watch some Game of Thrones, using bluetooth for the sound on the car system. After needing to buy some internets to get through DRM, we got about half an episode watched. Our ferry pulled up, and vehicles started coming off. We switched off GoT, and got hit by a massive storm. Luckily, it had passed before we went to go on.

We parked the car on the ferry, and made a beeline for food. I had fish and chips, and Christian had chicken schnitzel and chips. They were OK. We explored the ship, which was old, tired, and broken compared to the Dunkerque ferry. We went outside briefly, but it was still a bit stormy, and very windy. We went back inside. At about this point, I realised that the whole ship was heeling to one side in an alarming way. You'd think they'd distribute the vehicles a bit more sensibly.

We found a spot with some comfyish lounges in the bow, and settled down for the rest of the journey. Christian got a coffee, and did some reading. I gazed out the window at the horizon. At Dover, we docked, got in the car, and drove off without incident. Christian drove (on the left) to the M25 services, got fuel, and I took over driving, though a little unsure that I was in the right mental state. The M25 had a lot of road works, and was quite stressful, so after a while I asked to swap again, as Christian was feeling OK. I took an exit, managed to miss a roundabout, felt very stupid, and stopped to hand back the wheel. Christian drove the rest of the way home, and thankfully wasn't annoyed at me. We got home to our lovely flat, with a lovely non-inflatable bed, at about 11.30.