success!

This wasn't just any old summer trip to Europe you know - this was an Experiment.

This entire year is preparation for our next 10 years and whatever we needed to have in place before launching the 10 Year Plan had to be completed this year (blog to be initiated soon!).  We had already successfully tried working on the road for short trips, say 1 week or 10 days.  But we had yet to attempt working when away for a much longer chunk of time.  Say, two months.  So when we were lucky enough to have gained 1 ticket to the Olympics in the lottery we decided, right, we're going to Europe summer 2012 so let's make it a proper trip and try a few things out.

For one thing, can we 'live' in one place over there without going crazy (i.e., living with a friend in London for weeks rather than days, living with the parents-in-law in their sweet but tiny (for 4 people and 3 laptops) house).  For another thing, our trips to Europe have increased due to the same rels' health issues and we have found that each visit has merged into the others.  Even when we ensure there is a 'holiday' element as well as a 'visiting' element.  And anyone who has ever gone anywhere to visit anyone knows the difference between visiting and holidaying - and travelling as well for that matter.  Now going to Europe often enough to have each trip merge into the other in our brain is hardly a bad thing.  There is no way that I am complaining about something so wonderful that I am lucky enough to do.  All I'm saying is I want to remember and value each and every trip.  And to do that we realize we need to make each one memorable in some way.  For example that was the year I took that French class in France, or that was the year Fil turned 80, or that was the year of our 15th wedding anniversary becuase we went out to celebrate at a restaurant called Louis Quinze (Louis the 15th), etc.

Well, we kind of overdid it a bit this year, don't you think?  I mean, the Olympic Games in London is enough to make summer 2012 trip memorable isn't it?   You don't really need to add wine tasting in Bordeaux or dancing on Burgh Island and you certainly don't need to add both of them.  And Paris.  And hanging out with Hillsborough in Lyon.  And touring Somerset. And Vienna. And reconnecting with old friends who mean a lot to us.  Etc. Etc.  As Martin would say, we have overegged the pudding a bit.

But the real goal was to see if we can work in a vareity of places in a variety of countries in a variety of travel modes in a summer that contained some work but not too much.

The answer is a resounding Yes!, but with 2 qualifications:
1) We need to have access to good, fast internet connections. 
2) (And this is more personal to me) We need to be in one location long enough or familiar enough.  If we are in a place like St. Emilion for only 2 nights there is no way I am going to be happy to edit a document for 5 hours! 

So that's it then - an extremely memorable summer holiday that also checked something big off our to do list.  Not too shabby.

Next!

the best ice cream in Lyon

Nimes

magnum

wine lover

vinyard view

Paris bistro

on theSeine



at the games

pip pip!

costume du jour

watched the screen aat France House

culture can exist with sport!

leaving The Basket

 

is it a bird?

hotel on Burgh Island

deco darling



Brighton noses

Reefi's ready for the reno

Mil creating

sunny pub chat

reciprocated!

 

Vienna breakfast

kitchen catch up

 

2 of us and a schnitzel - summer lovin'

Magic Coat

I rarely buy clothes off the internet.  I prefer to try things on and check out all the seams and buttons in person.

But I read a piece in the travel section of the newspaper (do you realise that some company actually puts words on paper and delivers the paper to your actual house???) and it intrigued me.

So I guessed my size and ordered it, thinking it would be a perfect element to add to my summer travel wardrobe.  What is it?

It's a magic coat!

Disguised as a real coat by day, it is quite a fetching little red trench with black buttons that is water proof and covers almost to the knees. It would be worth its $100 price tag it it were just that alone.

But it you were to take out your Xray spectacles you would see its true identity, that it is so much more than just a coat.

It has pockets designed for a passports, identification, a wallet, sunglasses, a camera, a water bottle, a cell phone, an ipod, earphones, keys - even an ipad!  And not just designed but assigned, with little tags that remind you where to put your camera (along with a separate little pocket for a memory stick) or your glasses (with a cleaning cloth attached) or your keys (there's a clip feature so they don't fall out, and so on and so on. It truly is a remarkable piece of clothing.

And it is a perfect foil for all those increasingly strict limitations on airline hand baggage.  With this coast you could practically wear a carry on!

Mind you, if you do load it up with everything it can hold, you do look quite lumpy and it becomes quite heavy.  (I did manage to bring home about 12 items from the grocery store without needing a bag as a test but I don't recommend it) Fashion has always comes with a price to pay.  Take that Ryan Air!

The only thing I was not prepared for was that despte the fact that Europe had suffered a particularly wet spring and summer (it was Britain's wettest and its second coldest in 100 years and the British take pride in their record keeping so you know that it's true!) - despite that, we only experienced rain on 4 days, and never for more than an hour at most on any of them.  There was only 1 of what I'd call a downpour, and the other 3 events were measily little drizzly pockets of damp that came hesitantly and left promptly, so I hesitate to even call them 'rain'.

So for two months I carried around a coat that I used for less than 4 hours out of more than 1,440.  Now if it could be invisible and weightless, that really would be magic.

pubbing with the outlaws

Is there a better way to spend one's last day in England than with a good ol' pint of beer and a pub lunch?  I think not.

Especially if it is at the Mason's Arms in Bury St. Edmunds, on a warm end-of-summer day, in the pretty courtyard and with Mil and Fil.

And it is especally welcome the day after a cloudy afternoon that I spend wandering around Suffolk fields and villages by foot, returning home hours later with sore back, feet and hips.

And it is a wonderful last day event given the following day Mr.B would arrive at about 5:45am to move us and our luggage in his comfortable taxi to Gatwick airport, where for the first time in I think ever we have overweight luggage and have to pay for the excess.



Mil with her usual pasta



Fil with his usual blow-your-head-off-hot curry

 

 So cheers!  To a most memorable trip.

Why I Like Cemeteries

There are 3 things I like about cemeteries.

1. They are quiet.  

2. There is always some place to sit. 

3. They remind me of the transcience of life.

When I travel I am always happy to find a cemetery to wander around in and spend some hours in. Some of my travelling companions have been less than keen to join me in this activity, calling it morbid or even weird.  I tell those particular souls that I will meet them at 7 for dinner or something similar.  I do not like to give up my cemetery wanderings for those who don't appreciate them. I relish my time with those travellers through life who are now resting on the quiet side.

Under shelter, facing some, facing away from others, just like life

 

 

Sometimes there are a wealth of seating options



Thanks Mum!

 

There was a time when I sought out the gravestones of young men, who generally died in war or on the high seas.  Of young women too, often in childbirth.  I was especailly interested in the length of time their respective wives and husbands, girlfriends and boyfriends, fiancés and fiancées, had to spend in the land of the living before joining their lover. Of course I am quite sure their parents and sibings suffered sorrow at these deaths as well, but it would have been quite a different kind of sorrow. 

 

Over the years I gradually gravitated towards those who had lived particularly long lives.  I acknowledged their achievement and looked for commonalities, but they were as random as the birthdates noted in stone.  No secret ingredient to learn and live by and write a book about. 

 

For some reason I have most recently been struck by the gravestones noting the passing of a child, most of which die within their first year, victims of epidemics, poor hygiene or limited resources to feed and look after these tiny bodies with their immature immune systems. 

Victorian gravestones are often clinical to these wee babes, and it is clear that this child was one of many, given some of their names (Septimus, Octavius, Decimus).  Sometimes there are more than one young body being mourned, with a list of names on one stone.  Oddly to me and to modern times, there is more than one occurence of the same name on the same stone, such as William or Henry, or Robert.  I imagine these were the heirs  designed to carry the family fortune and the father's name, and as one heir died another replaced him, identical in name and identical in fate, alas.  The Victorians loved their hyperbole, and large urns with draped fabric or weeping angels were stone accompaniments, many now overgrown with ivy, overwhelming the small rectangular space. 

in the dark, this would look like a giant ghost!

Some are fenced in ironwork, both young and middle-aged and old, and with weeds growing where a gardener can't mow, isolating their inhabitants even further   Is there a metaphor in this?  So many things left unsaid, feelings unknown because of societal or personal barriers to open communication.  Unfortunatly another product of Victorian times that remains today for many.  The barriers may be of their own making, but it is still sad to think of comfort and truth and perhaps love denied forever.    

The more modern gravestones of children are small and sentimental, carved with verses culled from favourite poems and pop songs, and with the tender voice of longing and sadness.  They are clustered together, as family plots are no longer common.  Parents must be buried elsewhere or not at all, leaving this small marker of their genetic line.  It's rather nice to think these little ones may console each other by their proximity.  The observer is in no doubt how much these children are loved and missed, still, as fresh and faded flowers are placed on sites created years past.  The gravestones themselves are not the traditional rounded shape, but rather sleeping angels, lambs, fairies and teddy bears.

It is particularly heartbreaking to see slowly decomposing plush animals or toy trucks and dolls placed there.  Favourite playthings perhaps, or maybe a token for the afterworld, much as the ancient Egyptians buried food and jewellery and other items that were thought to be required to get on in the great hereafter.  

 

With apologies to Pere laChaise in Paris and the wonderful one in Punta Arenas, Chile, I do think England has the most satisfying cemeteries of all.  After an hour or so of wandering I sit on an inevitalby well located bench and contemplate the meaning of life. 

Then my stomach rumbles and I rise, off to return to the  land of the living, that much more grateful that I am still among them.  It's always good to be reminded.

 

Suffolk pink

There a pinkish hue that is quite commonly used on the houses of Suffolk, England. It's not quite terracotta and it's not quite bubblegum.  It is known, quite simply, as Suffolk Pink. I like it.  Take a look and see what you think. 

Tea time

"Picture me upon your knee
Tea for two and two for tea,
Just me for you and you for me
A-lone."

Thank you Nanette.  No really, Nanette, thank you.  No, no Nanette.

Ahem.

Taking tea in England is a serious affair, and one must learn the various forms it can take.

Sometimes tea time is a tray of tea with a biscuit.

Sometimes, it's a late afternoon affair, called "high tea" with tiered plates holding cucumber, egg and salmon sandwiches, tiny cakes and scones with jam.
Sometimes it's called a "Cream Tea" which, if it's done well, means freshed baked scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream. 

And if it's done really, really well, it's served outside on a sunny terrace looking at a Devonshire seaside landscape.

Sometimes it's a bit more celebratory and it's called a "champagne tea".  That means it's a tea that may or may not include any of the above, but most certainly includes a glass of champagne.  Even better if it is served in the longest champagne bar in England, running alongside the Eurostar train platform at the beautifully restored St. Pancras station.

And sometimes it's a pot for each person, topped up hot water for as long as you want. This is particularly nice if you are having a visit with a very dear friend. And if an orchestra happens to play in your proximity, well than so much the better.