Towards the end of August we had a visit from Tom, Emily and Rory. On the first day, with Emily’s nose fixed firmly to the legal grindstone, we took the ‘boys’ off to a garden centre near Swindon. ‘That’s a bit harsh‘, I hear you cry, ‘what did they do wrong to deserve that particular fate?‘ Ahh, but this wasn’t just any old common-or-garden garden centre. This was a garden centre with a petting farm, a butterfly room and a reptile house! All you had to do was cough up a few bob and fight your way through an enormous warehouse full of tat to find the way in. As we’d somehow managed to pick a lovely day, and most of the animals appeared to be quite sociable (once they’d sussed that we had food) it was an altogether pleasant experience.
The following day, with Emily’s nose temporarily removed from the grindstone, we headed off to the Gloucestershire and Warwickshire Steam Railway (GWSR for short). Despite having lived here for 17 years this was an experience that we’d carelessly missed – more fool us, because it was an excellent day out. What boy between the ages of nearly three and 72 doesn’t just love steam trains? I think that even the girls may have enjoyed themselves.
Not their real names of course but, knowing that this blog is so widely read (I think that at the last count I had four regular subscribers), Veronique* and Sebastian* opted to tick the ‘no publicity’ box and I agreed to hide their true identities from an inquisitive world!
Anyway, I’ve known Sebastian* from the age of 14, and although for various reasons we’ve lost contact from time to time, its one of those relationships where one falls straight back into a relaxed friendship notwithstanding the passage of time. Having met up with them several times over the past 18 months they kindly invited us to spend a few days with them in their home in the Bordeaux area in August.
Although the prospect of travelling is a little more daunting these days, the reality seems to be that systems are in place to provide help where its needed; so once again we requested, and received, Special Assistance at both Bristol and Bordeaux airports and even the Sleazyjet flight was painless.
Veronique* and Sebastian’s* lovely home in Salles is both stylish and comfortable, and to say that they made us welcome would be the understatement of the époque. For five days we were chauffeured hither and thither, wined and dined in considerable style and generally treated like visiting royalty. ‘No more than you deserve‘ I hear you say, but frankly it was the most relaxing and enjoyable of experiences and we are both profoundly grateful. Thank you V* and S*, you are true friends.
We’ve just returned from spending a few lovely days with the ‘Ewbanks of Nurnberg’ on what seems quite likely to have been our last trip to the Continent as true members of the European Community. In years to come I’m quite sure that we’ll look back on this time and wonder to ourselves just how we (as a country) could have been so very stupid and short-sighted. Still, nothing especially new there …. as a nation we seem to be experts at the stupid and short-sighted.
Germany is remarkable. Whilst we should of course be wary of spending too much time looking back over our shoulders, you do have to wonder how over the past 70 years they’ve pulled themselves up by their collective bootstraps to become a rich and confident nation whilst Britain has become a faded, bitter and introspective laughing stock. Still, mustn’t grumble eh? That’s the spirit ….
It was great to be able to spend some time with the family and to see the twins getting stronger whilst Gretel develops into a bright and lively (to say nothing of determined) young lady. No doubt they’ll all have a few more challenges along the way but at least Richard and Collette have a chance now to look up and see some light at the end of the tunnel – without wondering whether its a train approaching.
Nurnberg looked at its very best amongst the Christkindel celebrations and it was good to see large numbers of visitors enjoying Europe at its best. Not like …… still, better not start that again.
Our recent visit to the family in Nurnberg just happened to coincide with the Christkindlesmarkt which is both a bad thing and a good thing. On the one hand the city is full and so accommodation is at a premium, and on the other hand it’s a perfect excuse for drinking gluhwein and eating bratwurst!
Our apartment was in the city centre, which isn’t really the sort of place you’d expect to find riding stables, but these two intrepid riders managed to catch a quick ride on a passing pony!
With the summer drawing to a close we were fortunate to enjoy a late spell of really good weather for our recent jaunt to Brittany with a small (and select) team from Gloucester TSSC (otherwise known as the Tufty Club). The idea of an late summer trip to France was mooted about a year ago and as I had somehow managed to stumble upon a group of ex-pat petrol-heads enthusiasts in central Brittany it seemed like a good idea to meet up with them for a ‘cultural exchange’.
The Staaag taking the lead for the journey from Ouistreham to Gouarec
Early on the Thursday morning fourteen intrepid adventurers in seven cars (The Magnificent Seven?) met up at Portsmouth for the short cruise to Caen followed by a 200 mile drive on the excellent and relatively empty French roads to Gouarec, which lies about 80 miles due west of Rennes. Our campsite, which Denise and I had recced earlier in the year on our way to Le Mans, sits on the bank of the Nantes/Brest Canal and is an excellent base for touring the region, albeit its a bit rough around the edges.
On Friday morning a number of members of The Interesting Car Club arrived at the campsite in their eclectic range of cars to take us on a short drive around the surrounding area before we settled down to a typically Breton lunch at a local restaurant. It was good to have an opportunity to chat with our hosts and to establish a strong connection which may well form the basis for future visits. Saturday was given over to a visit to the Manoir De L’Automobile at Lohéac which is about a two hour drive from Gouarec. With an excellent collection of more than 300 vehicles of all ages and types its probably one of the best such museums in Europe and well worth a visit. On Sunday some us gave our cars a rest and stayed local whilst others went north to explore the Granite Coast. A few of us went back to the Abbaye Do Bon Repos where a stroll around a local market and a short walk down the canal bank were followed by a couple of beers and a bite to eat in a local café whilst taking in a little more French sunshine. Marvellous! We broke our drive back to the ferry on Monday with a short visit to Pegasus Bridge between Caen and Ouistreham . Not having enough time to visit the local museum we opted for refreshments at the small café that sits alongside the bridge – which would have been fine had they not charged €7.80 for a pot of tea! Am I bitter about the ruthless financial exploitation of an historical site where large numbers of British soldiers died in the liberation of France? You bet!
Rather than subjecting the van and ourselves to the slow and probably stressful task of climbing over the Alps we decided to make a large investment in the Frejus Tunnel Company which by Wednesday evening brought us to the lovely little mountain town of Aiguebelle just to the south of Albertville. The market square, which should have been our overnight stop, was full of the lorries, vans and enormous caravans belonging to a visiting funfair so, rather than trying to slip in unnoticed, and risking having no wheels on the van when we woke in the morning, we parked on the edge of a small park and passed a peaceful night with just the occasional rumble of passing freight trains to disturb our slumbers.
Our destination the following morning was Annecy and, after a brief ‘Lyon moment’ when the road signs said to go in one direction, Denise said another and Kate suggested a third we eventually arrived without the discussion having descended into excessive violence. We knew we’d arrived when we joined the lengthy traffic queue to enter the busy tourist town and it quickly became clear that there was little prospect of finding parking. Tant pis! We moved on and [mappress mapid=”6″]stopped briefly at Nantua, which I’m told is a very pretty, little, lakeside town, but by this stage my cold had the better of me so I stayed in the van frightening passing children with a cough that sounded a bit like a Klaxon. Fortunately the Nantua Tourist Office recommended an excellent campsite at L’Ile Chambod which sits on the banks of the lovely River Ain and provided an excellent location for a couple of days of much-needed R&R – this holidaying lark is hard work!
The lovely, and very original, medieval centre of Moulins – the perfect setting for a new production of Les Miserables … only, no singing please Russell!
On Saturday we’d planned to visit a local ‘vide grenier’ but for once the weather let us down and we actually had rain – the first proper downpour we’d experienced since before leaving home. So we decided to get a few miles under our belt and drove for most of the day – through Bourg-en-Bresse, Macon, Moulins and Bourges, finally ending up at Amboise which, by spooky coincidence, just happens to be the last resting place of Leonardo. We spent a morning visiting the Clos de Luce where the great man spent the last three years of his life under the patronage of Francis 1st; lots of interesting stuff, and in some ways better than the Leonardo Museum in Vinci, but I got the impression that the chateau and its contents were more of a re-creation than a restoration.
Amboise castle/chateau viewed from Leonardo’s home at Clos de Luce
We’d already decided to avoid returning via Genoa at all costs, so leaving Pistoia we headed north towards Modena. By the way, did I mention Pistoia seems to be the garden nursery capital of the world? Forget Dobbies, not a tearoom or soft furnishings area in sight, just field after field after field of shrubs and trees under cultivation all waiting to be shipped around the world to a posh garden somewhere near you. Fantastic!
Anyway, our route took us through the fabulous wooded and mountainous backroads of Emelia Romagna towards Modena. One of the problems with driving in Italy is that if you want to get anywhere in a hurry there’s really no alternative to the autostradas. In France if you opt to stay off the toll roads the regional RN roads are an excellent alternative, but in Italy anything you don’t pay for is likely to be slow, crowded and with a road surface that even British highway authorities would be ashamed of. Unfortunately our problem was made worse by Kate who, for the past thousand miles, has been rather too silent for our liking. Now this may be just a girly phase she’s going through, but to be honest a non-speaking satnav with a 12 year old database probably isn’t the most reliable means of navigation currently available. I know that the British Empire was largely founded by intrepid young men clutching copies of their Phillips Modern School Atlas, but there are limits – even for tight-fisted Yorkshiremen. Now just next door to Modena is Maranello which, as the cognoscenti among you will know, is the home of Ferrari; so it would have been rude to pass through without paying homage at the Ferrari Museum. In all honesty I was a little disappointed. Rather too strong on hyperbole and a little short on good ‘man-facts’. You wouldn’t get that sort of show at Aston Martin or Jaguar ………………… much.
OK, It’s not quite a Triumph, but I suppose if I were to be offered one ….
Next stop was a slightly disappointing and overpriced campsite at Salsomaggiore Terme just to the west of Parma – where the ham reputedly comes from. One interesting fact is that in all our travels since leaving Brittany I don’t believe that we’ve seen any livestock enjoying the benefits of outdoor grazing. Lots of straw being cut and baled, presumably for bedding, but not a single cow, sheep or pig to be seen.
It was now Tuesday night and by this stage I was suffering from a bit of a monster summer cold, courtesy of our lovely granddaughter, so was largely taking the role of ‘pathetic passenger’ rather than that of ’ dynamic group leader’. Looking for a campsite in San Damiano d’Asti we found what would have been the perfect location had it not been for the clouds of hungry looking bugs that surrounded the van as we arrived, so we ended up in the carpark of the local cemetery – which we reasoned had been provided for visitors, such as ourselves, rather than residents.
Months ago, when we first decided to have a family holiday in Italy, Jennifer announced that our visit would coincide with the Lucca Summer Festival and that James Taylor, probably the soundtrack of our adult lives, would be playing on the last night of our stay in Vinci. Sometimes in life something comes along that is simply too good an opportunity to miss.
Lucca is an ancient walled city that merits another visit when/if we next come to Tuscany. Set in a large piazza in the heart of the city, the concert opened with a lively set by Bonnie Raitt (of whom I’m ashamed to say I’d never heard) before JT spent the best part of two hours singing songs to which even I can remember the words. When dementia finally sets in and you can’t get through to me any other way just stick on a James Taylor CD and I’ll probably be quite content.
Looking more like ‘Grandpa James’ than ‘Baby James’ these days – but he’s still got that voice …
Having vacated Casa Eden on Saturday morning we drove for about an hour up to Pestoia where, after a stooge around the market, we said farewell to Jennie and Nathan who then returned to Pisa for their last night – their flight having been cancelled and their holiday extended by a day. Tom and Emily had returned to London on the Wednesday and Richard, Collette and Gretel drove back to Nuremberg on the Friday afternoon/night so once again we were on our own after a wonderful and unforgettable week with the family.
JT’s backing band doing a bit of bootlegging in Pestoia
For Sunday we’d booked a visit to Florence’s Uffizi Gallery which is the permanent home to many of the great works of art of the Renaissance period – including some of the very few paintings that Leonardo actually completed and several that he never quite got around to polishing off. It’s a wonderful collection but one could be forgiven (I was) for finding so many similar works from the same period in such close proximity to one another just a bit overwhelming. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Florence … make a point of revisiting the Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo and some of the other famous landmarks that make this city such a great destination for tourists, touts, pickpockets, beggars ….. did I hear someone say ‘bah humbug’? Not me!
….holiday blogs, motoring obsessions and an occasional account of goings-on in the Ewbank household
