Part Three B – England, Scotland and Wales – Around The World In Seventy Five Days

Cosmos Tours – 13 Days – Day Nineteen to Day Twenty Five

“……….Glastonbury is, apparently, England’s equivalent to Australia’s Nimbin. We are told by RA it is the hippie centre of England and driving through the streets heading towards Glastonbury’s Abbey, I am NOT disappointed. I see a woman walking along the pavement with a 1960’s Afro hairdo, another with long loose hair wearing a caftan, a third with gingham shorts but elaborate body paint on both legs. Alistair parks the coach and as I set off to use my “free time” I then see some men openly smoking “roll your own” cigarettes, the air around them thick with the sweet plume of dried marihuana smouldering.

Shops like The Yin Yang of Glastonbury, Chalice Well, The Broomstick, The Goddess and The Greenman, Indigo Herbs Headquarters, Crystals, and Man Myth and Magik set the imagination on a certain tangent………I have found where the English loose their inhibitions and chase their inner voices………I chase my inner voice……….”

Yes some of the buildings are most probably restored and original but there’s new buildings, souvenirs, coffee, cake and food, pavements and gardens, and almost everything saleable, tartan and Scottish including trinkets and memorabilia that one might like or does not need in every direction you look. I’m sure this is entirely due to tourism and the constant influx of visitors to the tiny village. RA tells us it is one of the most popular destinations for weddings today and up to eighteen weddings a day occur here. Everything you might need to hire relative to weddings is also available including horse drawn carriages, luxury vehicles and even a  fully decked out male highland piper. And HE looked amazing!

After Gretna Green the coach heads onto Grasmere, a small village and popular tourist destination, in the centre of the English Lakes District. Grasmere takes its name from the adjacent lake, and is associated with the Lake Poets. The famous poet William Wordsworth lived in Grasmere for fourteen years and believed it to be “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found”. (I’m thinking that maybe he didn’t travel much as there are many many beautiful places in our world.)

Grasmere is however, another stop directed at souvenirs and shopping. The drive here on secondary roads is lovely. Marvellous. Grand. Marvellous. Grand. Did I say marvellous and grand? (English spoken RA says that at least ten times a day.) Hedges and stone walls form every paddock or field’s border, there are no wire fences like you’d see in Australia, and on the trek to Grasmere we see grey Herdwick sheep for the first time. We also see many other breeds like Oxford Down and North of England Mule Sheep, a mix of either long wool and short wool sheep, some with black faces and feet, and sometimes several different breeds all in the same field. It is all very English, all very countryfied and very, very grand.

I visit Wordsworth’s grave then the small adjoining church and wander the tiny hamlet. The air is crisp, and fresh and people are simply ambling about on holiday or shopping, with both groups immersing themselves in, and completely enjoying an authentic taste of rural England.

The afternoon after Grasmere is devoted to a long slog through Lancashire on the major motorways through to Liverpool. The pretty landscapes of the Lakes District soon fall away to more industry and development however and as we approach the city of Liverpool the hustle and bustle of the busy roadways detract completely from the surrounding landscape.

RA really is an amazing  tour guide. Entertaining, intelligent, humourous. Lighthearted. She has a wealth of information and is extraordinarily good at her job. Globus is fortuate to have such a knowledgable, engaging ambassador for their company and anyone trekking around Britain with this lady as their tour guide is in for a genuinely rich and  colourful lesson in historical repartee. Out of the four Cosmos tours I’ve done, RA is the best tour guide thus far.

…….Liverpool lies in the south west of the county of Lancashire………It became a borough from 1207 and a city in 1880……..In 1889 it became a county borough independent of Lancashire……..Liverpool sits on the eastern side of the Mersey Estuary and its growth as a major port is paralleled by the expansion of the city throughout the Industrial Revolution………Liverpool was home to both the White Star Line, and the home registry of the ocean liner RMS Titanic……..There is an important Maritime Museum here…….Liverpool is also the home of The Beatles and Paul McCartney and John Lennon continue to have a major influence here relative to Liverpool’s University and areas of music and arts learning……..

We drive around the city on the Optional two and a half hour “Liverpool Evening City Tour” for £23, a city tour with a stand-in city guide Bernie. RA comes with us but sits down the back of the coach. We visit two Liverpool Cathedrals, both imposing, but none is so GRAND as The Anglican Cathedral which was constructed between 1904-1978. The Anglican Cathedral is the largest Cathedral in Britain and the fifth largest in the world. The Gothic designed Building stands an imposing 331 feet high and is regarded as one of the greatest buildings to have been constructed during the 20th century. We walk through this amazing structure. I don’t recall having ever been in such a tall cathedral and it is quite beautiful, in an imposing, solid, heavy sort of way.

A drive by The Roman Catholic Metropolitan Cathedral or Paddy’s Wigwam as it is loosely called is all we manage for our second cathedral visit. The Metropolitan Cathedral was constructed between 1962 and 1967 and is noted as one of the first Cathedrals to break the traditional longitudinal design. It’s huge stained glass funnel shaped structure in the middle of the building is quite unique and would be worth a visit, but time does not allow for this today.

We trek to the port area then skirt around the university as we hear about John Lennon and Paul McCartney of Beatles fame and their continuing contributions to the halls of learning here. The coach then takes us downtown to the clubs area where The Beatles were first founded at The Cavern. There’s live music and the pulse of music filtering through nearby streets is welcoming. Sandra and I decide to debunk from the tour and make our own way around for a time, as it’ll be easier staying in the city now than navigating our way walking back into town from our hotel. Although we’ve cut the tour a little short, the small amount of money invested in taking this Optional Tour to the point of our departure from it, was well spent.

It’s always liberating to do your own impromptu thing and we pop in and out of some pubs and clubs that have live entertainment, we window shop and browse inside other shops, find a fountain in a square and an historic theatre, then we ask directions to Chinatown. We are hoping to find some dinner. It’s a fair hike on foot but we eventually find and dine at the Mei Mei Chinese Restaurant. The restaurant is full of Liverpool’s Chinatown locals and we eat a liesurely three course banquet amidst them then hail a black cab from the roadside out front to take us back to the hotel.

By the time we arrive back at our hotel Sandra is laughing hysterically. She is excited to be in England and riding in her first authentic black cab. And as I take some pics of her, the driver jumps out and invites her to sit in the driver’s seat. Then he takes pics of her on her ipad. It was great fun and a very, very good and light hearted spontaneous end to a very busy day.

Day Twenty – 4th. October – Tuesday – Today the group is trekking into Wales and we start the journey travelling through The Queensway Tunnel under the Mersey River. And yes there’s a second tunnel, called, you guessed it, The Kingsway. Shortly after we break from Liverpool’s suburban extremities we find the road to Betws-y-Coed a tiny village in Wales. We are then to head to higher elevations, Snowdonia National Park.

Betws-y-Coed is a sleepy little hollow in the midst of the beautiful North Welsh countryside. I am reminded of a long time Welsh friend of my father’s as we drive into Wales whom I knew quite well in my teenage years but who passed away some twenty years ago. As the lush greens of the Welsh landscape slip by I find myself recalling his soft Welsh accent and unique humour and I have a small glimpse into this man’s former world before he emmigrated to Australia.

The sign boards in Wales have the words written on them in two languages, Welsh and English. RA tells a story about a Welshman who is supposedly responsible for this. She begins…..A Welshman has numerous speeding tickets, parking tickets and fines all related to driving. And when he had his day in court, he chose not to have legal representation. Instead, at the English speaking Court, he stood up when it was his turn to speak, and he softly and calmly spoke only in Welsh. In Welsh he pled not guilty. And in Welsh he advised that he only spoke Welsh and only wrote and read the Welsh language. In Welsh he said did not know the English language and did not understand the written English language. And again he pled not guilty. The Welshman was found not guilty as, in an English speaking Court, the problem of the case was obvious…….Hence all the signs in Wales now have their words written in two languages. I’m not sure if this was a joke or a true story but it certainly it gives an explanation for the dual laguage signage.

As we travel on through the park after our photo stop we are told of the Dinorwig Power Station hydroelectric scheme. It comprises 16 kilometres of tunnels using 1 million tons of concrete, 200,000 tons of cement and 4,500 tons of steel. To preserve the natural beauty of Snowdonia, the power station itself is located deep inside the mountain Elidir Fawr and inside there are tunnels and caverns equivalent to a sixteen story skyscraper. The electricity project was begun in 1974 and cost £425 million. It took ten years to complete and was the largest civil engineering contract ever awarded by the UK government at the time. Twelve million tonnes of rock had to be removed from inside the mountain, to create tunnels wide enough for two lorries to pass comfortably, and an enormous cavern 51 metres tall, 180 metres long, and 23 metres wide, known as “the concert hall” was also created.

We trek from Snowdonia onto Caernarfon Castle for a lunch stop and enjoy one and three quarter hours to visit the Castle and town. Castell Caernarfon is a medieval fortress in Caernarfon, Gwynedd, in north-west Wales. Originally there was a motte-and-bailey castle in the town from the late 11th century until 1283 when King Edward the 1st. of England began replacing it with the current stone structure. The Edwardian town and castle acted as the administrative centre of north Wales for a time and as a result the defences there were built on a grand scale. I wander this imposing, fortress like medieval structure for an hour. Built with solid cold, and unforgiving stone, there are many vertical thin slotted openings for archers to shoot through on the walls on the castle’s defensive sides, and generous window openings for light and air at other less vulnerable locations. With winding staircases, often two and three stories high, the living areas with their adjoining turrets and towers, skirt and completely surround a central open garden court area. Then further out, to one side, on a scale model inside the castle, I see the position of what had been originally a defensive wall which encompassed the entire village. The wall still exists today.

I enjoy reading about Queen Eleanor and her arranged marriage on the 1st. November 1254 to her second cousin once removed Edward to secure alliances. Edward was fourteen and Eleanor twelve when they married and by thirteen and a half years of age she had given birth to their first child. Eleanor was to give birth to sixteen children only six of which survived into adulthood, and she herself passed away aged 49.

A quick lunch in the shopping district near the castle, then I am back on the coach with the others to head back to Liverpool via the major coast roads. It’s a very pretty drive but as the roads are flanked heavily by trees there are few photographic opportunities. I spend a quiet evening in at the hotel back in Liverpool with the group tonight before the tour heads on back into Wales tomorrow then on toward Cardiff.

Day Twenty One – 5th. October – Wednesday – It’s the same every morning 6:45am large bags out the door 7:00 am breakfast 7:45 am carryon bags to the coach and board, then 8:00 am depart. Gotta love orchestrated guided tours. It’s exhausting. As the city disappears in the distance this morning we head down the map back into Wales for another day and an overnight. Our first stop is the city of Chester which appears as if caught in a time warp. The buildings in the city centre are historically rich, well preserved and uniquely Welsh. Chester was founded as a Roman fortress in the 1st century A.D and is also known for its extensive well-preserved Roman walls made of local red sandstone. A Roman amphitheatre, with ongoing excavations, lies just outside the old city’s walls.

 

In the oldest part of the city the Rows, a shopping district, is distinguished by two level covered arcades and Tudor-style half timber buildings. We disembark the coach and walk in a group towards Chester Cathedral, a gothic style church rebuilt during the 13th. and 14th. centuries which replaced a 10th. century Saxon built church. Some Saxon masonry found during a 1997 excavation of the nave, circa 1093 in the Norman style is seen in the northwest tower, the north transept and in remaining parts of the monastic buildings. Again, entry to the Cathedral is not included on this tour, but I pay and wander in. Chester Cathedral is a beautiful building and I particularly like what I first think are wall tapestries, however on closer inspection I realise the artworks are actually finely tiled mosaics. Magical.

 

It is a huge building. There is a considerable area of highly decorative woodwork and there are large expanses of coloured and clear glass windows. Every time I enter a church I am surprised by the artwork, style, and interior decor I am confronted with. Who dreams up these artistic treasures, who decides what will be incorporated into the design and the artistic endeavour, who puts it all together and who actually utilises these glorious monoliths? Each is individual and unique, each is absolutely and completely inspiring.

 

Others in our group have gone cheese tasting or shopping and we meet later where we first disembarked the coach then we head to our next stop, Ludlow, a popular Welsh market town filled brimful of Tudor style shops and buildings. It is a popular tourist destination and here we enjoy a short opportunity to shop or a leisurely lunch amidst crowds of tourists that are here like us for around an hour.

 

There is a castle, but not enough time to do a visit real justice so I amble, walking the streets at a comfortable pace. I am bitterly disappointed again, time allocations on this tour are so inter-meshed with driver hours that there’s simply not enough time at any of the places we visit to do more than a quick peruse of anything before the need to find a meal and finish it before returning to the bus as the rest of the free time allocated disappears. Time and again the opportunities to both the shop and sight see lock horns as travellers on this tour must choose between the two. There’s simply not enough time to both. And I am realising well into this 13 Day Cosmos Tour if I seriously want to see Britain and experience the culture and landscape and do both justice, I will need to return and drive, rather than take the “tourist tours” option. However if a “taste” of England, Scotland and Wales is what the tourer wants, this may be the perfect tour for them.

 

We drive on towards Cardiff in South Wales through the Brecon Beacon Hills, a series of old red sand stone peaks popular with walkers. The weather is clear and sunny but the temperature is decidedly lower today, but not weather to rug up for. RA tells us repeatedly each day that the fine warm weather we are experiencing on this particular tour at this precise time of year, is an anomoly. And the visiblity, as a result of the beautiful day, is excellent. Hedgerows skirt all the farming fields on the way up to the Brecon Beacons and we are told how the farmers are not permitted to remove them to increase the size of each paddock. They are basically county owned and to be preserved. Fines apply if hedgerows are removed and they are to be replaced if damaged in any way.

 

The views from the higher elevations as we ascend are breathtaking. The colourful patchwork quilt of rectangular fields below, with their hedgerows appearing as stitching, stretch as far as the eye can see and we stop briefly for photos several times. The Brecon Beacons are said to be named after the ancient practice of lighting signal fires or beacons on mountains to warn of attacks by invaders, but more recently these are lit to commemorate public and national events such as coronations or the turn of the millennium.

 

We are driving through coal mining country at this present time, however there are no working coal mines left in Wales. The coal fields existing in Wales we are told by RA, are so comprehensive they could supply Europe for the next five hundred years. Since it is cheaper today to import coal into England than it is to mine it, all coal mining in this country has ceased operations.

 

We arrive at Cardiff at 4:45pm, it too has a castle, but there’s no time to visit as it’s closing in fifteen minutes. We do a quick drive round the city then head to our overnight at the Novotel. Time to relax, swim or hit the bar. I hit the bar and join others who have done the same. Our “Welsh Evening” at the Millennium Building, an Optional Tour for £66, is to start in a short while, at 7:15pm.

 

The tourers head into the city from the hotel, and are greeted by a strapping Welsh chap who gives us a quick run around tour outside the Millennium Building showing us the Cardiff Houses of Parliament. He is time wasting, we are early.

 

Eventually we head in and are greeted with starters and a nip of mead (honeyed wine). Group seating is in the main dining area which is lavishly decorated throughout with copper metal. And then the wine starts flowing. It’s included. There’s a harp being played at the front as our Entree is served, I select Pheasant Soufflé which is served warm and has a light rich gravy and bacon pieces interspersed through it. The Main was Lamb is Vegetables and Dessert an Apple and Cinnamon Fool with Cinnamon Icecream. The evening’s entertainment is mostly singing and jokes and lessons on how to speak Welsh. The singers are very good, two are currently appearing in London’s West End and it is a fabulous evening with delicious high end Restaurant food. Well worth the money spent to attend.

Tomorrow we head to Plymouth, through Somerset and down into Devon, via Bath, Wells, then Glastonbury, the English equivalent of Australia’s Nimbin.

 

Day Twenty Two – 6th. October – Thursday – As we leave Wales RA can’t help herself. She sits at the front of the coach with a big smile on her face and a few moments later the voice of Tom Jones booms loudly through the coach speakers. It’s just a little bit infectious. And…..who? I might ask. Hasn’t heard or knows a few lines of, at least one of the famous Welsh Singer’s songs? “A last taste of Wales” RA tells us as “It’s not Unusual” breaks the early morning tranquility. Over half the tourers join in, catchy tune that it is………

The trek to Bath today is a short one, it’s about an hour from Cardiff. The city is stunning. Georgian architecture is everywhere as in the 1700 and 1800’s that was the popular style and it was well developed as it was the city to visit. (Georgian is probably my personal favourite style of architecture.) And today, it is still the city to visit and RA tells us as we near Bath, a trip to England is not rally complete without a visit here.

Bath is  best known for its Roman-built baths. The city became a World Heritage Site in 1987 and was called Aquae Sulis (“the waters of Sulis”) around AD 60 when the Romans built baths and a temple there, though hot springs were known to be here before then. In the 17th century, claims were made for the curative properties of water from the springs and that’s why Bath became popular in modern times.

There are a lot of tourists here today. We have a quick orientation tour around the centre of the city and then make our way to the Roman Baths where there is a museum. There is, of course, an entry fee but we receive a discount with proof of our Cosmos association. Another hidden additional cost. We are early so are through the entry and into the facility quickly. There are handsets not headsets for us to use and it’s impossible to navigate a camera with this device in your hand so within ten minutes I see 90% of the visitors, like me, having discarded these and wearing them like loose bracelets as they all wish to take photos. I wonder if the people who decided handsets over headsets are better realise this?

 

The baths are fascinating. Old, ancient architecture, practical layouts with dressing, warming and soaking rooms, natural springs and elaborate drainage, and there are beautiful sculptures and building adornments. The exhibits include significant archaeological finds like leather pouches brimful of coins, jewellery, tools, and the written word in sculpture and printed forms including engraving. Brick like tiles and mosaics, art and pavements. It’s an extraordinary exhibition of ancient Roman culture and I can see the drawcard attraction of this city, it’s baths, it’s architecture and the facility as a whole.

 

Two hours here pass quickly. As I leave the “baths” area I wander the streets. It’s been getting cooler as we’ve headed south down the western side of England and although I’m in a tee shirt and light shirt and not feeling particularly cold I see many others wearing light jackets and scarves, guarding against the coolish wind. I have a cappuccino and watch pigeons stealing crumbs from the adjoining cafe tables about fifty metres front of the Bath Cathedral where I am sitting. Then I set off agin, strolling past shop windows heading towards the Cathedral. As I near the stunning building there’s a tiny Fudge Shop on my left.

 

I’m eventually enticed into the shop to see fudge being made by locals dressed in a style of period costume. Ushered in actually…….with a smile……I think I already know I’m a captive audience as I enter and the costumed employees certainly know it. But they are genuinely making an effort. The technique is interesting and entertaining and they happily let me take photos so I buy some fresh hand made fudge to take with me on my journey onto the USA. I tell myself this as I’m not planning to take it home but I secretly hope I don’t eat it all as it’s melt in your mouth delicious and just a bit too handy on the vacant seat next to me when I return to the coach a short while later. Whoever heard of strawberries and cream fudge anyway? Salted caramel, Belgium chocolate, white chocolate?…….well it WAS four for the price of three………..

Glastonbury is, apparently, England’s equivalent to Australia’s Nimbin. We are told by RA it is the hippie centre of England and driving through the streets heading towards Glastonbury’s Abbey, I am NOT disappointed. I see a woman walking along the pavement with a 1960’s Afro hairdo, another with long loose hair wearing a caftan, a third with gingham shorts but elaborate body paint on both legs. Alistair parks the coach and as I set off to use my “free time” I then see some men openly smoking “roll your own” cigarettes, the air around them thick with the sweet plume of dried marihuana smouldering.

 

Shops like The Yin Yang of Glastonbury, Chalice Well, The Broomstick, The Goddess and The Greenman, Indigo Herbs Headquarters, Crystals, and Man Myth and Magik set the imagination on a certain tangent………I have found where the English loose their inhibitions and chase their inner voices………I chase my inner voice to Glastonbury Abbey however, about fifty metres from our coach park. There is simply no time to photograph the locals or the quirky shops as we have only forty five minutes here and are expected to sight see, hunt and gather lunch, as well and do all we need to do in that short time. Clock watching on this tour is becoming tedious. Moreso than on any other tour I’ve been on with Cosmos. So I figure visit the Abbey first and, if there’s time, buy a Cornish Pasty later. (England is also the home of the Cornish Pasty.) That way I can eat my lunch on the go if I cut it too fine getting back to the coach. And then all too soon we will be on the road………heading towards the next destination.

 

Glastonbury Abbey is a 12th. Century ruin of King Arthur’s day and entry to the Abbey and its immaculate grounds is, yes you guessed it, not included in our tour cost. I pay a fee and head in. The Abbey stands gloriously regal even though its walls are incomplete and most roofs are missing. The stonework that exists today however is stunning. Simply stunning. I visit the Lady Chapel first then head across to the tall arched entrance columns of the site of Arthur’s tomb. The bright green grass between these structures seems to magnify the soaring stonework, complimenting and imbuing warmth to the yellow colour of the sandstone used in the architecture, and age has blackened the delicate patterns around each structures’ arches.

I head past Arthur’s grave to the Abbots Kitchen and am reminded of a palace kitchen I saw in Spain two years ago. It had a massive fireplace for spit roasting whole animals and a high ceiling, with chimney, like this one. A display complete with mannequins dressed in period costume in the Abbey’s kitchen sets the scene of how life was most likely like back then and is very well done. And the gardens, in fact whole landscape near the Abbey, are lovely. It’s a peaceful place to stroll and take refuge from the business of life. A place where time seems to stand still.

Dartmoor National Park is next. A cold, rather barren landscape renowned for its harsh weather and unforgiving nature. I found it captivatingly beautiful. Rolling hills and peaks with granite outcrops and boggy marshes. It is inhabited by a lot of animals but most well known are the Dartmoor ponies. Once there was 25,000 of these ponies in a three hundred and sixty eight square mile plus area, however when numbers reduced to around eight hundred some years ago governing bodies stepped in and improved the ponies outlook by implementing measures to protect and help reestablish numbers. The ponies, RA tells us, apparently now number about five thousand, so there has been some success with the project.

We soon find our way to Widecombe-In-The-Moor. Here we are told we will find amazing Devonshire Tea with classic scones, jam and clotted cream. I am hugely disappointed though as the scone I am served at the tea room I visit has been thawed from having first been frozen then it is microwaved. The scone is dry, tough, and very, very hard to swallow. It crumbles.

There are a lot of visitors and the queue is long so I believe the shortcut of cooking then freezing scones has been favoured to simply deal with visitor numbers. But with the number of staff on today, there is simply no reason why scones shouldn’t have baked on the day. I have experience in hospitality having owned and run a commercial kitchen in a large gallery for some years which catered regularly to busloads of visitors. My own fresh home made scones, cooked by me, were always made just before a coach arrived and were always served just warm from the oven. The scone I had here today in Devon, was not remotely like what we served at my gallery so eating a scone at the supposed home of the classic “English Devonshire Tea” was a sad experience.

The church nearby the tea rooms at Widecombe-In-The-Moor is a beautiful building and its classic English stone graveyard is one of the highlights of the day. I have found a genuinely sweet church in the middle of a wilderness moor and I love the beauty unfolding in front of the camera lens.

Plymouth is about an hour and a half from Widecombe-In-The-Moor, along very skinny secondary road, until we connect with the A38. Passing cars, a bus and a taxi however is an artform here, as several times the oncoming traffic is forced to reverse to a slightly wider section of road so we can pass by. Obviously bigger vehicles have priority as we don’t stop at all, we merely slow and pass the oncoming traffic at snail’s pace. These are the roads I’ve heard about. The country lanes, the single vehicle tracks that skirt farming land, paddocks and woodlands away from the main roads. They are generally flanked by hedges, trees and stone walls, as well as the odd cow and sheep.

 

Plymouth looms ahead and in a few short miles we are at the waterfront for a late afternoon cruise in the actual port where the Mayflower set sail in 1620 for the Americas. This is a landmark city, a significant port, and has been noted in history forever for this event. For £15 a cruiser is taking us on the “Plymouth” Optional Tour. It is large, and low on the water. There’s no roll in the sea today or waves, it is completely calm, so the cruise is exceptionally enjoyable except for the smell of diesel fumes on the lower decks. I head to the top deck and sit outside the cabin, just a few feet from the captain. I find my generous light windbreaker waterproof jacket that folds away to nothing and has been in my back pack the whole trip for occasions such as this. I put it on grateful that if fits easily over the top of my thick woolley cardigan as the air has quickly become decidedly cool. I tie the strings on the hood and settle in for the ride.

 

The cold sea breeze, salt tinged and crisp, is wonderfully fresh. The captain starts his recitation and sounds exactly like a pirate. And I’m expecting him to say “Ah ha my hearties” at any minute and laugh quietly to myself. It’s ridiculous how authentically “pirate” he sounds. The other tourers are smiling too.

 

We cruise the harbour and have the sights pointed out to us, then as we head back to the wharf the sun sets in a brilliant display of gold rays breaking through cloud over the water. The colours of the water and day mute and soften. It is, I think, perhaps the loveliest time of the day.

Day Twenty Three – 7th. October – Friday – We depart Plymouth at the usual time 8:00 am and head towards the day’s main event, the prehistoric monument Stonehenge. It is about a three hour journey to Stonehenge and it’s lightly raining as we leave the hotel. I pack the camera away for the time as early into the trek I realise it’s not a particularly pretty drive as compared to our previous day’s views from the coach, and, as well, the windows of the bus are foggy and have rain drops on them. A short comfort stop around 10:00 am and then we are on our way again.

Stonehenge is a significant prehistoric monument in Wiltshire, three kilometres west of Amesbury and thirteen kilometres north of Salisbury. It’s a ring of standing stones sitting within earthworks from the middle of Neolithic and Bronze Age monuments and it includes several hundred burial mounds. Building works at Stonehenge, RA tells us, date back to three specific periods, 3000 BC, 2100 BC and 1500 BC. She tells about the structure before we arrive and says the bluestones are a specific type of dolerite, an ingenious rock, and archeologists know they were transported by the builders from the Preseli Hills, more than 150 miles away in the modern day Pembrokeshire in Wales. The rock of some of the stones is unique to that area. I read about this further though and discover that a bluestone quarry near Crymych in Pembrokeshire is another likely place for at least some of the standing stones that exist at Stonehenge to have been obtained.

 

Two theories of how the gigantic stones came to be in their location have been proposed over the years. Originally it is thought they were either brought to the site as glacial erratics by the Irish Sea Glacier or long distance human transport. The use of shifting loads across tree trunks laid on the ground side by side and rolling the stones across them on top of the ground such a long distance across heavily wooded landscapes however, whilst possible, seems unlikely.

 

RA tells us though, that in modern times it has been determined that human transport of the many 25 ton stones is the most likely as a catamaran type ancient boat dating back to a similar age and found near two like stones were found on the bottom of the Irish Sea. It is likely that the successful transportation of so many large unwieldy stones by sea may have met with some mishap and the two stones found may have been originally meant to form part of the structure. So a long sea journey then a short trek overland after coming up the River Avon  to the chalky slopes of the Salisbury Plains is believed to have been the method of transportation of many of the monoliths that form Stonehenge.

Each standing stone at Stonehenge is around 4.1 metres high and 2.1 metres wide and has been worked specifically for an aesthetic visual effect; this means the orthostats widen towards the top to retain constant perspective when viewed from ground level. Stonehenge today is incomplete as some of the stones are believed to have been removed. A total of 75 stones would have been needed to complete the circle 60 stones, and the trilithon horseshoe 15 stones. It was thought for a time the ring might have been left unfinished rather than stones having been removed, but in 2013 during a summer drought, patches of parched grass revealed what is believed to have been the location of removed sarsens.

 

The lintel stones above the standing stones were locked into place using a simple but precise ball and joint carved method. Each lintel stone is about 3.2 metres long, 1 metre wide and 0.8 metres thick. The tops of the lintels are 4.9 metres above the ground and are curved slightly to continue the aesthetic circular appearance. Also of interest, the inward surfaces of the stones have been worked more than the external surfaces.

 

Stonehenge has changed ownership several times since King Henry V111 acquired Amesbury Abbey and its surrounding lands but in 1915 the site was sold for £6600 and after three years, it was given to the nation. In the 1920’s encroaching buildings had begun to rise around Stonehenge so the site was given to the National Trust to preserve. The buildings were removed but not the roads, and the land near Stonehenge was then returned to agriculture. Today a huge visitor centre, opened in 2013, is situated 2 kilometres away and shuttle buses ferry visitors, up to 9,000 a day, to the inspiring open but fully grassed, wind swept site.

 

Stonehenge is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It appears incredibly simple with its ring of stoic solid blocks of single stones, yet it is an immensely complex construction with its stone placement relative to the summer and winter solstices. It is an inspiring construction and I very much enjoy the leisurely stroll around the standing stones and the photo opportunities. I spend almost an hour absorbing the atmosphere of the place, the quiet, the open air and the beauty before me. It’s very hard to describe in terms of words, and even more challenging describing the experience well enough to do the site justice. Entry to Stonehenge was included in this tour’s cost.

 

I walk across to the visitor centre, visit the shop, have some lunch then I have just enough time left to make a quick visit to the information centre where I stroll through the displays and artefacts of significance. It is interesting to see the early photographs of the archaeologists that have visited Stonehenge and those that have made the site part of their life’s study and work.

 

From Stonehenge we trek into London and arrive at the Novotel in Hammersmith around 3:30pm. We have until 4:40 pm to freshen up before taking a bus with part of another Cosmos Group into the city for dinner and a show, our final Optional Tour for £120. The meal is lovely, and at a French Restaurant around the corner from our West End show tonight at the Adelphi, but it was three courses served in just under thirty minutes. Entree was Chicken Liver Pate, Mains, a tender slow cooked Beef with Vegetables and Mash, and the Dessert was a slice of Raspberry Nougat Parfait. Timing for this evening’s show was obviously critical as we were on our way soonafter.

 

The show tonight at the London Adelphi Theatre is called Kinky Boots. A story based on some truth, or was it some truth based on a story? I’m not exactly sure but it was an experience well worth undertaking. The theatre tickets were £72.50 which was part of the £120 and our seats were in the “Dress Circle” (which was a great seat but the sound technicians did such a great job that I think every seat in the house would have been good as the singing and volume of sound carried really well throughout the theatre).

 

It was a little old Worlde as expected, as the theatres in the West End of London have many years of history in the theatrical performing arts. The sets were easily converted into the different backdrops required, and the costumes were brilliant. It was a complex story, but the lead singers were really entertaining and extraordinarily talented. The audience responded really well and at the end there were standing ovations. I had a fabulous time but have few photos of the night as once the show started, no photography was permitted.

 

 

The trek tonight to the theatre, then home again after, was a journey through London’s well lit central districts, and it was a very pretty drive the whole way.

 

Day Twenty Four – 8th. October – Saturday – A full free day in London. No Tour Groups. No deadlines. No bags out the door. Cotswolds for the day or touring London on the hop on hop off bus. Yet to decide as we are doing laundry first. Then tonight I’m going to the pub with Courtney from my Sicily trip two years ago. It is going to be a great day. An enjoyable day. A day to see some more of this fabulous country, or this fabulous city.

 

But it all went badly awry from 10:00 am onwards. I had needed a second suitcase so set off at 9:30 am down the road ten minutes to the nearby shopping centre in Kings Street in Hammersmith. It took another twenty minutes to find a store selling luggage that was actually open as most were still closed. And another twenty minutes to make the purchase. Ten minutes then I’m back  at the hotel. It’s 10:00 am. Housekeeping knocks on the door. Oh sorry I didn’t realise you were still in the room. They go away.

 

Sandra leaves to do laundry at 8:00 am. She isn’t back by 10:00 am and within a short time after returning with the suitcase I am rung by reception. I’m sorry but you need to swap rooms. Swap rooms? I pack my stuff except for the laundry which was yet to come back. Sandra still isn’t back when I finish so I have to stop packing as her stuff is everywhere and had emptied a suitcase to make one available to roll on its wheels to the laundry with the washing in it. I go down to breakfast. Still no Sandra. Breakfast is closing at 11:00 am and I know she hasn’t eaten. So I ask if I can make up some plates and take them back to the room for her. Ok. No worries.

 

Sandra arrives back at 11:30 am. Then the next hour and a half disappears sorting stuff in our suitcases and eating some lunch. A bottle of Silver Birch Wine purchased a day or two ago is opened and it goes nicely with the ham and cheese from the breakfast buffet I had plated up and the red velvet cake Sandra has brought back with her. By 1:00 pm Sandra decides to head to the nearby Post Office and post some items home. She takes a suitcase with things in it. Shortly after, a knock at the door. Housekeeping. We need you to shift rooms, now. We need to clean the room. My sister will be back shortly, I’m sorry but I can’t shift her things until I have something to put them all in.

 

Around 2:30pm another knock at the door. Can I clean the room yet? No I’m sorry I can’t change rooms until my sister gets back. By this time I realise there’s going to be no trip to the Cotswolds. At 3:00 pm a call from reception. Your transfer to Heathrow is here. My transfer is needed tomorrow not today. They’ve got the date wrong. We sort it. Then at 3:30 pm another knock at the door. Can I clean the room? No. By 4:00 pm I realise there’s no hope of my making the hop on hop off bus either to salvage part the of the day left to me. At 4:10 pm a call from reception. I can’t bring myself to pick it up. Around 4:15 pm the head of housekeeping just opens the door. No knock this time. In a heavy French accent she demands. You need to call reception. NOW!

 

I try ringing reception. They don’t pick up. So I go down there. The hotel has hundreds of rooms and a lot of floors so this is no simple two minute excursion. I tell them my sister has not returned yet from running an errand, I cannot shift rooms. I don’t have anything to put her clothes in. I go back to the room. I text Courtney. Come to the hotel, hopefully Sandra will be back by the time you get here and we can change rooms then we can go out. At 4:30 pm Courtney is on her way. I decide pack everything I can, stuffing more things in my cases and in any plastic rubbish bags I find in the room. I call a porter and we load everything on a trolley. I text Courtney the new room number. There’s a heap of small bags and I’ve made a shambles of Sandra’s stuff. I am not happy. I have just wasted my entire free day in London waiting for my sister who was delayed, waiting to shift rooms, and being repeatedly harassed by hotel staff. If we hadn’t had to change rooms I could have gone out hours earlier. Two minutes later Courtney knocks on the door of the new room.

 

We head out and meet Sandra on the way out, heading back towards the hotel on the street. I advise of the room change and apologise for messing her stuff up. Then Courtney and I head off, catching the tube at Hammersmith Station to Green Park. Then we swap to the Jubilee Line and finally hop off at Westminster. Easy. Courtney starts working out in her head what I need to do tomorrow to get to The Tower of London.

We head out of the subway station as the sun sinks low in the sky. It is fresh out but a jacket is not needed. Courtney tells me some historical facts as we walk past some of London’s most loved icons. Big Ben, Westminster Abby. We walk past 10 Downing Street. If I had my army card says Courtney I could get you through that gate she says. We pass the Houses of Parliament, the Remembrance Monument. Onto Trafalgar Square and its famous Lions. The Art Museum then on towards the West End.

 

We start looking for a pub in Convent Garden as we plan to spend the evening eating at a pub and catching up. There are thousands of people out tonight on the streets, walking, dining, drinking. It’s noisy, busy and fabulously London. The camera is busy. We eventually find two pubs and it’s a toss up between The Nag’s Head and The Lion’s Head. (I guess the body parts of the rest of the animals weren’t important.) We have a theme going on here. There’s an upstairs dining room at The Lion’s Head so we head there. There’s a big noisy soccer crowd at the Nag’s Head celebrating after the football. We both have two pints of London Lager. And Steak and Chips before Profiteroles for Dessert. We spend three hours there catching up and enjoying some relax time. It’s a great night.

As we leave we head to the Convent Garden Tube Station and it’s a relatively straightforward trip back to Hammersmith as we don’t need to change trains this time. Courtney escorts me back to the hotel, then just inside the hotel. She says Sarah my daughter will never forgive her if she leaves me on the corner and something happens. Later she texts later how to get to The Tower Of London tomorrow.

 

Day Twenty Five – 9th. October – Sunday – A sleep in we roll out of bed at 8:00 am, a housekeeping staff member knocks on the door just after 9:00 am. Is your room ready to be cleaned yet? What is it with this hotel? The check out time is 12:00 pm. Sandra and I ring for a porter around 9:15 am. None is available so we trudge down to the elevator with our bags ourselves. We go to reception. Sandra complains to the management. They instantly blame housekeeping. We are then there forty five minutes explaining, re explaining and re explaining the sequence of events from the day before until the top top top manager has heard our story of our wasted day and the constant intrusions. Finally an apology is forthcoming, and suprisingly a small discount on our account, but we have lost another hour of time to this hotel. We then go to breakfast. By the time we check our bags in to leave behind, check out and walk away from the hotel it’s after 11:00 am. Late to be going out when we have to be back by  3:15 pm for our transfer’s ride to Heathrow and when there’s a considerable trek into town.

 

I lead the way, down to the underground at Hammersmith, buy tickets, and board the tube to Green Park. We are on our own. No Courtney. We change trains there then head onto London Bridge using the Jubilee Line, the route I trekked last night. Easy. But we don’t know where The Tower of London is so we start to walk towards the Thames. We then spy it across the river near Tower Bridge and cross on foot over London Bridge. We quickly walk to the Tower, it takes fifteen minutes.

 

We have to queue for tickets. The queue is about half an hour’s wait long, our second day out is now diminishing rapidly before our eyes. But finally we get tickets and by 12:45 pm we are in The Tower of London wandering the treks and buildings inside. The queue to see the Crown Jewels is long so we play tag team, one stands in queue whilst the other slips off and takes photos.

 

The Crown Jewels are stunning. I imagined, for some ridiculous reason, it would be like a pirate’s treasure, a big pile of necklaces, crowns, loose rubies, emeralds etc. but of course it’s a series of well spaced exhibits in a huge vault with doors weighing 2000 lbs, a row of splendidly ornate jewel encrusted swords and their scabbards, goblets, plates and tableware, and eventually, exhibit after exhibit, of splendid royal artefacts. There are the royal crowns including the crowns of Mary of Queen of Scots, the Queen’s  Crown and the Queen Mother’s Crown, amongst others. Beautiful. Very sparkly. Lots of glitter. Lots of jewels. There had been an extraordinarily long line of slow people moving at snails pace to see the jewels today, and once at the exhibit, a motorised conveyor belt took you past them quickly. Very quickly. But well worth the wait and the time to see.

 

We skirt the buildings, take photos and move along. The Ravens are interesting, there’s a dress exhibit, and coin’s exhibit. We went to the torture room. And saw quite a few people dressed in period costume. There were guides today but we didn’t have time to do the tours and at 2:00 pm we leave to catch a cab back to the hotel. This is a challenge as there were no cabs in sight as we left, unlike when we arrived, but once we’d successfully hailed a cab, a nice English gentleman prattled on to us for the half hour drive it took to get back to the Novotel in Hammersmith.

 

Our transfer picks us up at 3:15 pm and take us to Heathrow where we catch the plane to Dublin at 7:10 pm. The flight is an hour long and we then catch a cab at the airport to the hotel arriving around 9:30 pm. At Cassidy’s Hotel the bed is amazing! Tomorrow we join Back Roads Tours at 8:30 am for a twelve day trek around country Ireland.