On our travels again

Thursday 

This time it's a quick trip to Scotland to revisit places I knew in childhood and adolescence, and to catch up with friends.  Our travelling was about as fraught as usual, even though we'd decided to fly from London City.  The taxi collected us in good time, and despite post-flooding hold-ups, we were in good time for our train.  The plan, encouraged by the national rail enquiries web site, was to change at London Bridge for Cannon Street, then walk to the Bank and pick up the toy town railway.  Only when we got off the train did we find that there are no trains from London Bridge to Cannon Street at the moment.  The sensible thing then was to get the tube to Canning Town and change.  The crowded, noisy tube train dumped us a stop short, at North Greenwich, where we'd to go up and over to another platform to continue our journey.

At City Airport, we got seats at a window in the departure hall, so we could watch the few comings and goings.  Unfortunately, we were next to a couple of bimbos who seemed to be making a movie of some kind.  We found only later that we could have had quieter seats nearer to the departure gate. We were quite impressed by the aeroplane, which was an Embraer 190.  There was much more leg room than we are used to in the low-cost offerings. Perhaps it was because of the steep landing and take off paths at city airport, but the departure seemed rather more appropriate to a fighter jet than an airliner.  Some interesting fellow passengers: a demanding Indian Grandma who kept changing her seat, including displacing that colourful politician, the Lord Reid of Cardowan, who reacted with more self-control than in his earlier years.  All good fun.

We had booked our hire car through a consolidator as usual.  Sometimes it works well, others less so.  There was a long wait at the airport for the shuttle bus, and a bit of drama when there were more passengers than seats.  On arrival at the depot, it turned out to be an unmade site with a couple of portakabins.  The car we'd booked had come in damaged, so the best they could do for us is a huge Korean seven-seater.  Well, it goes, steers and stops, and changes gear by itself, but, like the beat-up Clio we had in Gran Canaria, our friends would probably rather we didn't park it on their drive.  .

A slow drive round Glasgow at rush hour, but at least it didn't start raining till we were well out of town, and the rain had just about stopped by the time we reached our digs. We walked out in search of basics, and rather over-ordered a Chinese takeaway.  We ate most of it, but have to think of something imaginative to do tonight with yesterday's cold flied lice.  [Later: Martyn made a tasty pilaff with diced bacon and mushrooms.]

Today we took a ride into Dundee with mixed success.  My watch strap started falling apart yesterday when I took it off at the airport: the pins securing the watch to the strap had weakened and bent.  Running repairs with a door key kept it in place till today, when a friendly jeweller replaced both pins for £4, with the result that it's as good as new again.  

Along at the City Square, they were busily unblocking drains next to the bronzes of Desperate Dan and Minnie the Minx, so we refrained from selfies...   Though our errands were a bit frustrated, it was interesting to see how much has changed, particularly along the waterfront by the old docks - it's all posh pads and Porsches these days, though it's good to see that they have integrated a lot of the original stone buildings into the redevelopment.  The new V&A is coming along apace, but a lot of the waterfront is still behind hoardings.

Our digs are pretty good.  Close to everything in the Ferry, quiet (give or take the nocturnal seagulls) and reasonably well equipped.  I've had to do a bit of amateur sparkying, since two failed bulbs in the kitchen left it rather gloomy, and the recessed light in the shower was dangling loose!  (I only discovered this when, on washing my scalp, my hand encountered a UFO...).  The bathroom is pretty well equipped, with both bath and shower box, and a wc branded 'Utopia'....  

There isn't a proper teapot in the place, but as Brook Street (like so many shopping streets in the country) is now cheek-by-jowl charity shops, the fifth one we tried in the space of five minutes came up with a perfectly decent aluminium pot for £1.99.  Our plan was to leave it as a present to the flat, but it has scrubbed up well, and pours nicely, so we may just take it home.  

Martyn suggested a birthday lunch of Smokie pancakes at Jackie's recommended But 'n Ben in Auchmithie. We were lucky they could fit us in, since the place is very popular.  And rightly so - the pancakes were delicious.  We went via Carnoustie and Easthaven, where we spent a pleasant moment watching the waves breaking on the beach where we were occasionally taken for a treat when I was a child.  The air was much clearer today, so we had good views of the windswept landscape. 

Friday 

Fine sunshine at 05:30-ish wasn't enough to get me up and dressed, which was a shame, since by the time we were up and dressed it was raining.  Again.  Still, we took a walk along to the Castle and back during a dry spell.

Next stop, Dundee Contemporary Arts Centre.  The exhibition held our attention for about five minutes.  Huge canvases, semi-abstract, with interesting and coherent use of colour.  Mais pas ma tasse de thé.  The tea in the café downstairs, par contre, was very good.

Thence to Glamis and Forfar, and back to the Ferry via Kingsmuir (we'd registered that the Forfar-Dundee road was jammed up by road works just inside the ring road).  It would have been better had the sun deigned to make an appearance, but we had some good views across Strathmore to the brooding Grampians, and across the estuary to Fife.

Some of these roads were familiar from the days when Dad used to take me to a disused airfield for driving lessons before I was old enough to use public roads - they stood me in good stead, since I passed after five professional lessons.  Oddly enough, our current digs are two minutes' walk from where I got my pink slip, nearly 50 years ago!

Marco, DCS and Jackie

We were back on time for a fine tapas lunch at Sol y Sombra with Jackie, whom I hadn't seen for more years than it is tactful to reveal.  But since yesterday, we're the same age again, and as former classmates we can't be coy entre nous about age.  We had a lovely chat, full of reminiscences.  After lunch we repaired to Visocchi's for a cup of tea with another classmate, Marco, who, though rather frail, is sharp as a pin, and full of news of many of our contemporaries.  At our age, it becomes depressingly common to compare ailments and enjoy minor glee at how many contemporaries we have survived.  Jackie, I should add, is in rude health, and couldn't compete...

Oddly enough, we were ready to eat again by evening, so took a walk round to M&S to get easy suppers that we could do in the microwave.  For the second time today, our ears were assaulted by the bagpipes.  In the morning, a piper was playing for some reason outside an Indian restaurant in Gray Street, and in the evening, a large group of pipers and drummers was practising in the doctors' car park next to our block.  They were really impressive - but a trifle intrusive later while we were trying to watch the Prom on TV.

Saturday

Sticky moment when we went to fill the tank before leaving Dundee.  Although the fellow at the depot had shown us where to find the filler cap release we just couldn't find it.  But as I rummaged round the floor looking for it, I found a piece of plastic under the mat, and soon spotted the little lever from which it had got kicked off.  Although the car is not unpleasant to drive, and has nice leather seats, a lot of the detailed design inside is pretty cheap and nasty.  for example, you have to look far too far away from the road to read the speedo, and as for the clock, forget it.  And it rattles.

Our drive to Dunoon was pretty unpleasant as far as Crianlarich, since we had rain and poor visibility much of the way.  We paused for cups of tea at the Crianlarich Hotel before pressing on, and were not far off our target by lunchtime.  The A82 down the side of Loch Lomond was pretty busy, and not a nice road on which to meet coaches coming the other way, which we frequently did.

Having said we expected to arrive between 4 and 5, we decided to go on to Inveraray for lunch, then continue south into the Mull of Kintyre, crossing to the Cowal peninsula by ferry from Tarbert.  On this second stretch of the journey we had slightly better views, since the cloud had lifted a bit.  I'd rather forgotten the fine detail of the way to Pam's, and stopped to ask a chap if we were far off West Street.  He had no idea, and it turned out to be the next turn on the right, 100 yard away.

A warm welcome as always from Pam and Geoff, tea, a good natter, a splendid supper and an early night.

Sunday

Dawn from Pam's sitooterie

I was up pretty early, and was rewarded by a magnificent dawn sky, and a little later by the sight of three roe deer just outside the sitooterie.  Very tame, they nibbled away at the yew hedge, but turned their noses up at the yellow capsicums and lavender, the which Pam was grateful to learn.  There's evidently no point planting roses hereabouts - the deer love them!  After breakfast, we opted for a trip across to Bute, and the weather was much kinder to us.  There's a very short ferry crossing from Colintraive, so we went for that one.  Rothesay, though nicely situated on its little bay, looked a bit down at heel.  The Victorian public lavatories, however, are beautifully maintained (even if it now costs eight bob to spend a penny), as are the gardens along the front.  We did a pretty thorough tour of the island, and got fine views across to Arran (which we're reserving for another visit).  We paused for lunch at Ettrick Bay, sitting outside in the warm sunshine.

Mantas, Colintraive

Thence back to the ferry, and a second attempt to find the sculpture park.  There's a lot of interesting stuff there, in a wide range of media. The park is very much worth a visit.  Arranged in the gardens, the landscape and a few buildings scattered round the grounds.  I think my favourite is a shoal of manta rays, executed in steel and suspended from the rafters of the boat house!  Thence up to Strachur, and back down along the side of Loch Eck.

Another happy and convivial evening - Pam had made a superb venison pie, and broke out a couple of bottles of very good Carignan from the Cabardès.  Just goes to show that you can indeed make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

Monday

Loch Awe at Cruachan

Fairly prompt start, since we had decided to head for Oban and the coastal road.  Beautiful day, beautiful scenery.  We paused at the Cruachan power station, which I remember hearing about when it opened in my teens.  It's a pumped storage hydro-electric plant built in a vast man-made cavern in the hillside, and generates electricity by draining water through the turbines from a reservoir up above it.  When demand is low, electricity is used to pump water back up from Loch Awe to the reservoir, ready for when demand picks up.  Elegantly simple idea, but I doubt whether the economics would prove attractive these days.

Thence on to Oban, which has some fine architecture, but rather a lot of touristy shop fronts.  Its port offers connections to a number of the islands, and right next door is a station, offering links to Glasgow at a somewhat relaxed pace.  We stayed only for a cup of tea and to buy sandwiches for lunch, then joined the coastal road southwards.

On the way south, we called in at Arduaine gardens, and sort of followed one of the walks down to the waterside of the Sound of Jura.  Charming place, with some of the bluest hydrangeas I've ever seen.  We'll save the longer walks for another time.  From there we pressed on southwards to Keillmore, which is at the foot of a peninsula off the Mull of Kintyre.  Apart from interesting geology and lovely flora, the area offers good views across the Sound to Islay and Jura.  On a mild, sunny and practically still day, the experience was a delight.  

We paused again at the sea lock at the west end of the Crinan Canal, which greatly shortened the journey for the Puffers on their journeys between Glasgow and the islands.  Like most canals these days, its main, if not exclusive, use is by leisure sailors.  At one point, we were held up at a swing bridge to let a few of them enter a lock.

From there we ambled south again to Tarbert to catch the ferry back.  Once landed, the fun began.   We'd planned to return to Dunoon via Tighnabruaich and Glendaruel.  There were a few 'road ahead closed' signs, starting a few miles out of Tighnabruaich, and, hoping that this might refer to side turnings, we pressed on.  Mistake.  We finished up having to back-track, and head for Glendaruel via Otter Ferry: no small detour, and one that involved a narrow C-road with few passing places.  

By this time, we were getting rather late for supper with Pam, Geoff and their other guests for the evening.  Having taken a lot of photographs during the day, I'd little charge left in the phone.  Somewhat academic, given the lack of coverage up in the hills hereabouts, so I wasn't able to report in until we were five minutes from home.

Oh well, we made it, and enjoyed another convivial evening!  I was mighty ready for bed by 11, though.

Tuesday

We had hoped to be able to report that we'd been out on the water every day of our stay in Dunoon with Pam and Geoff.  Our plan today had been to go for a trip on the paddle steamer Waverley, but unfortunately it had been cancelled.  No notification posted at the pier: a fellow would-be tripper found out via his smartphone.  So back we traipsed, for a relaxing afternoon with our books, iPads and insides of eyelids.  Probably good preparation for our travels tomorrow.

So, we sat in the sitooterie for a while, watching RN and merchant naval vessels out on the estuary for a while.  I'd prepared a simple supper, which we dispatched together before an early night. 

Wednesday

Pouring rain through the early hours, and it didn't let up while we were in Scotland.  We were on the 07:40 ferry to Gourock, depositing Pam and Geoff at a bus stop whence they were to head off to Glasgow to meet friends.   We fuelled and returned the car, then eventually got the shuttle bus to the airport in good time, we thought, for a quick bacon sandwich, as tradition requires, before heading for the gate.  In fact, our 10:50 flight was delayed to 11:55, so that left us time for a proper brunch, since we weren't to arrive in LCY until gone 13:00.  

Replacement E170 at wet Abbotsinch

It turned out that the plane we should have been on had developed a technical fault that couldn't be fixed quickly, so they had to dig around for a replacement.  We finally pushed back after midday, but the driver managed to negotiate a fairly direct approach, and we were on the ground by 13:15, and pleased to find it dry and very mild.  We were at London Bridge in good time for a train shortly after 14:00.  Compare with Gatwick, where it took us over an hour last time just to get out of the airport, admittedly including passport control.  The aeroplane was the smaller E170, which was a bit more cramped than the bigger one we used last week, but still offered more leg room than the low-costers.  So we are confirmed London City Airport and Embraer E-jet fans, you'll gather.

The return home was pretty painless, and in good time for my evening meeting at the CAB.  I had time for a cup of tea and to open the host of birthday greetings that awaited me.  (Perhaps the most startling was one from Miss Leach: a portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, with the legend 'Greetings from one old queen to another').  But as the evening wore on, I was conscious that the day had involved journeys in a rental car, a ferry, a shuttle bus, an aeroplane, three trains and a taxi (not to mention a return trip to town in the Ateca, to which I was very happy to return!).

Thursday

Mr Engineer Smith's 70th birthday.  We mark it here with laundry, gardening and, I fear, shopping.  The garden has plainly had quite a lot of rain.  The courgettes need tying up, since some of the fruit appears to be rotting.  We had the first of our French beans last night with supper, and I expect I'll turn out another bag of spuds later today.  The forecast showers should exempt me from grass cutting, with any luck.

Unplanned trip

Monday

The courgettes have started to show some flowers and at least one timid fruit, and the dwarf French beans are looking quite encouraging.  We have given them and the spuds a good feed and a thorough soaking because - guess what? - we're back in Lagrasse.  Our friend Henry, who had become more and more frail in recent months, died last Friday, so we're here for his funeral and committal tomorrow.

The travel was more than usually hellish: a long walk from the car park bus to the North terminal at Gatwick, and an even longer one to the gate.  It is one of the newish ones across the bridge.  To add insult to injury, Sleazyjet was too tight to pay for air bridges either at Gatwick or Toulouse, so we had a lot of stairs to add to our delight at the experience.  The flight itself was OK apart from the proximity of Other People, including a sprog whose parents didn't know to give it something to get it swallowing during climb and descent, and which consequently screamed loud and long.  

Next ordeal was a half-hour queue for passport checks.  Once through that, it was a long walk to the car rental desk, only to find that it was closed, with a notice telling us to back-track to the far end of the furthest car park.  There we found a long queue for the two check-in desks, which were situated in the back of a van.  Well, the good news is that we got a slightly better car than we'd ordered, so the drive was OK.  It's a Fiat Tipo, similar to the one we rented in Tenerife.  Its six gears obstinately fail to change themselves, but we can cope with that for three days.

Tuesday

Not the easiest of days.  A lengthy funeral mass in the local church (in a curious mixture of French, Latin and English), attended by a good 70 friends, family and neighbours.  Next, about 20 of us trooped up to the crematorium at Trèbes, for about 20 minutes of tributes (in English, French and - briefly - Erse), following which the box was wheeled out.  One French mourner was surprised that the family hadn't asked to witness the cremation itself, which is evidently the norm.  I'd been rather dreading being asked to do so, and risking offence by politely declining.

The family and a few neighbours came back here for tea or coffee and biscuits, so the dishwasher is doing its stuff again as I write.  There's drinks and nibbles at one of the Prom cafés tonight: we'll make a token appearance.

Wednesday

Potager on our vines and olives walk, Lagrasse

Sheila was in pretty good shape yesterday evening after a rest in the afternoon, and is heading for Ireland today to spend a bit of time with family.  Our appearance at Lucie's having been somewhat less than token last night, we felt a shade delicate this morning.  To blow out the cobwebs, we went for one of our favourite walks, up the rive gauche past the vines and olives, then back to town across the back of the Abbey.  I haven't done a lot of walking since the knee started playing up a couple of years ago, so, while I was quite without pain, I was definitely short of puff.  Daily walks henceforth.    Toulouse-Blagnac and Gatport Airwick will doubtless contribute tomorrow.

Having decided on an apéro on the Prom after our stroll, we happened upon Henry's first wife, daughter and son-in-law, so spent a pleasant little while comparing hangovers and sharing memories of Henry.  It has of course been a sad occasion, but we leave feeling that we have made a lot of new friends.

Thursday

Traffic held up by soon-to-be-floating gin palace

Not too much in the way of closing down rituals after such a short visit, and I was up early enough to get much of it done before I was fully awake.  We were on the road soon after 09:00, so opted for the old N113, hence less fuel burn and no tolls.  Unmistakeably slower of course, not helped by having to stop and wait while a vast catamaran was trailered through the narrow main street of Pezens.  The last twenty miles to the Toulouse ring road was pretty slow, and the périph was mayhem.  It's always like that around lunchtime, when the good people of Toulouse get the idea of their pre-lunch Porto or pastis.  Lane changes are decided on and executed in a split second, with the occasional signal when the manoeuvre is almost complete.  Total disregard of speed limits, of course.

There was some sort of drama at the car rental place, where a renter was arguing at length in indistinct English ('You are joking, aren't you?') while he and his wife attempted to squeeze their bags into the back of a Fiat 500.  Another route march later, we installed ourselves in the restaurant that looks out across the field.  Not cheap: plat du jour, puddings and a half litre of rosé rushed us 66€.  Still, said plat was not bad - chicken breast served with ratatouille and some nice bread.  We watched quite a few commercial and Airbus landings and take-offs, including prototypes of the new big A350 and little re-engined A319, and a couple of Belugas - they really do appear to defy the laws of physics.

Another trek to the gate, though security was a lot brisker than at Gatwick on the way out.  More drama at the gate: a fellow was pleading to be let on a flight to Amsterdam, after the door had been closed, even dropping to his knees at one stage.  A victim of Toulouse traffic, no doubt.  

Boarding once again involved lots of stairs. This time we had to stand and wait for five minutes or so in a grim concrete stairwell.  Once on board, we found that, yet again, we had a screaming sprog in the row in front of us.  It did at least shut up once we were airborne.  Good views of the Gironde estuary, Cherbourg, the IoW and Portsmouth as we flew in, and we were treated to a 360° sightseeing flight round Haywards Heath. For some reason, once we'd landed, they deployed stairs to the back exit of the plane, and an airbridge at the front.  We were at the back, but opted to wait and leave by the front.  There were about ten zigs and nine zags of queue for passport control.  Question: since the process is fully automated, why were only half the gates functioning?  

The car park bus driver was a graduate of the Alan Sherman school, closing the doors and pulling away when we were three paces from the door, so we had a while to wait among the piss and chewing gum at the bus stop.  It took an hour from landing to driving off, but I guess that's par for the course.

It's always good to be home among our familiar comforts and with a summer garden to look out on.  We both felt that we'd been away far longer than the three days it actually was, but I suppose that two days' travelling, including four airport experiences, and the emotional demands of a church plus crematorium funeral made it seem longer.  

Still, back into the thick of it: I have a day at the hobby today.  No rest for the wicked.