Pre-amble

I don't know exactly how it came about but I suspect one Sunday after dinner, which generally features a shared bottle of wine a conversation like this took place.

"So we want to go to Wirral Sea Shanty festival at the end of March"

"Yes, and the Small Motor Home Forum meet in June"

"We could tag a trip to Orkney on to one of them"

"Which one, might be a bit cold in March and the midges will be out in June"

"Oh, I don't know"

"Oh, I don't know either"

[Short silence]

"Stupid idea - why don't we just stay out from March to June and go to Orkney in the middle?"

"What, stay out, what is it, nearly 12 weeks, that's ridiculous"

[Long silence]

"You know, it's not such a stupid idea, it could work"

"We'd have to be careful not to murder each other being in the van that long"

Etc.

So the idea to spend nearly 12 weeks together crammed into a space smaller than most folk's wardrobe came about. Of course, planning was essential but the trip also needed to be spontaneous. I used Furkot to at least outline the trip to make sure that it started straight after the Sea Shanty Festival and had us back in England in time for the Forum Meet. It had campsites and landmarks to see pencilled in but it was really just a guide to see when approximately we would be where approximately.

Once that was done we could search for local events: Orkney Folk Festival - nope doesn't fit. Islay Whisky Festival - would fit if we reverse the entire trip and go that way last - but means the risk of midges as we'll be on the W Coast of Scotland in Jun. Ah, but if we reverse the trip we can fit the Kingdom Of Fife Beer Festival in. Complete replan with a couple of hard stops!

Not just the itinerary but what to take. How many week's worth of clothes - too many and the van space will be consumed, too few and we'll spend much of the holiday in laundrettes. We settle on about 3 weeks and making sure everything can be used as a layer so as to work as the seasons change.

No luxuries - we'll take Liz's laptop mainly to backup photos, no amateur radio except for a small handheld, no TV. Will we miss TV not having it for almost 12 weeks? Can we pare down what is in the van to maximise space. We need to leave a reasonable amount of empty space for in-trip purchases - I'm sure there will be visits to distilleries and wee might want souvenirs!

What about the practicalities? We won't be able to open the door after 12 weeks mail has piled on our doorstep. Do we need to cancel magazines - the Radio Times being a good candidate. I speak with a friend and in exchange for him having 11 weeks' worth of RT he will collect them weekly and in doing so move the mail away from the door. A suddent thought - our house insurance is invalid if it is unoccupied for a period of greater than 60 days. Rats, we'll have to sweet-talk one of the girls to pop over for a night or too. Then we get a phone-call from Liz's sister - could they leave the car on our drive whilst they go on a cruise. They plan to come down a day or two before and spend a couple of nights in Southampton an an hotel. Now, there's a win-win - they can stay at ours saving them hotel bills and my children a special trip. The garden? Well it is spring, April showers and all that, everything ought have a reasonable change of survival without sorting out water timers.

Doctors appointments, dentist, hairdresser, window-cleaner all re-arranged or cancelled.

Let's do it!

Thur 24 - Mon 28 Mar - Beginnings

Welcome to this blog. Snatches of holiday reminiscences  when time and internet access allow.

Well, its Monday, the Shanty Festival is over and we're sitting in Wetherspoons in Southport. You may spot a theme developing re Wetherspoons but cheap real ale, free internet and good,cheap fuel food are a powerful combination. We've been been out 4 days already but the Shanty Festival has meant no time to blog.

The Shanty Festival - brilliant! I've come to the conclusion it's not folk music I enjoy but folk song. And shanty was a very loose description of the songs we heard - not everything "weighed the man down" but there were also a lot of sensitive and gentle songs reflecting on life and life lost at sea, often from the perspective of those left behind. Many of the songs were new to us and a goodly percentage of those were original songs, often written from a personal perspective by old mariners or their offspring. Still most of then had rollicking refrains and along with singing lustily there is still a childish pleasure from doing the actions to be a "Pirate" or a sailor who "ain't a sailor any more".

There were even ukulele shanties in the bar.

The location was the National Boat Museum and what a fantastic venue. Basically the old wharf/dock complex where the Shropshire Union meets the Liverpool Ship Canal is one huge museum complex with all the buildings and outhouses holding boating artifacts (boating as opposed to nautical as this is mainly canal based history). What a wonderful concordance of history through physical artifact and oral history through song. Each is as important as the other. Rumour has it that the museum may not have space to host the shanty festival in the future. That would be a tremendous shame - it is THE place for the keepers of the oral tradition to annually refresh it, songs can be written down, tunes can be recorded but it is the singing that keeps them alive.

Since I mentioned beer earlier, the festival was a surprise, 14 different brews from Liverpool Organic Brewery including Russian Stout at  7.4% and an IPA at 6.7% made a surprising beer range. 18 gallons of each * 14 = 252 gallons = just over 2000 pints and all pretty much sold when we left on Monday. Oh and I forgot the 4 boxes of cider. Singing is thirsty work!

Before leaving Ellespmere Port we take a little stroll up to the town itself. It was named after the canal that was funded in my home town of Shropshire and there is an interesting reminder featuring in pavement plaques showing all of the bridges of the Shropshire Union Canal and culminating in a reminder of home.

En route to Southport we popped into Lever's dream town - Port Sunlight. An interesting contrast to today's world - to see a toff doing something to improve the situation of the poor rather than enhance their suffering.

Tomorrow - 'tis washing day. Tonight we needed a site with services - the washing up needed doing and the portaloo was full. The Boat Museum did have a chemical waste disposal point but it was the other side of the towpath with the only access via the posh vistor centre. Somehow schelping a (fairly well sealed) container of 2 day old urine through the gift shop seemed wrong! Despite this liquid gold being a precious cargo but a century or so ago. So Southport Caravan club it is, partly because it is in walking distance of a town I hope that hosts several decent restaurants - it is our wedding annviersary tomorrow after all and Liz will be allowed to enjoy it after our socks and undies are gleaming :-). Might as well make use of washing machines whilst they are available.

Mind you, we're grateful that camping was free over the weekend - this Southport campsite is £31 per night!!!!! Yes - you can get good hotels for that! But it was the only site we could find in the area within walking distance of a town. Wednesday we move down to Maghull, nearer to Liverpool but a mile or so walk to civilisation (and the train station). But well less than half tonight's rate. We've never paid more than £20 before and baulked at that. This luxury and a decent meal will probably be the extent of our anniversary largesse.

Tue 29 Mar - 41 Not Out

41 years ago we looked into each other's eyes and said "I do"; 41 years later, the eyes are much more blood-shot and surrounded by wrinkles but we're still looking into them. Mind you, will that still be the case after nearly 3 months together in the van?

Celebration? Of course! We know how celebrate! A couple of hours in the launderette this morning, tea and clotted cream scones in a traditional seaside tea-room this afternoon. Actually it was nice, proper old-fashioned service, real leaf tea in a silver plated teapot and 1930's greatest hits crooning away in the background.

How to top that, actually sitting in this tiny micro-pub with the best point of draught mild either of us has ever drank works well.


Not found a nice upmarket restaurant for tonight but a local fish and chip shop looks delightful and will work! The posh meal can wait until we find somewhere that really appeals. That way we get to celebrate twice!

And here's that fish and chip restaurant, chosen on the basis that if the owner takes as much care about his kitchen as he does about good choice of decor then it must be good.

Wed 30 - Thurs 31 Mar - Trains, Art, And (Of Course) Beer

Well Wednesday started badly, Brian's belt buckle disintegrated. Too much good living perhaps but it did mean a wander around Ormskirk's charity shops in search of a new one. Still we weren't doing much else on our trek from Southport to the next campsite at Maghull; the bitter winds and unpredictable showers meant both the RSPB site and the red squirrels at Formby were off the agenda.

A surprise as we drive through Halsall - flat agricultural land with rich dark soil, we could have been in East Anglia. The campsite at Maghull is at the transition of this agricultural area and semi-detached suburbia. A working farm but on the edge of Maghull itself.

One of the most famous residents of Maghull (its only famous resident, probably) is Frank Hornby of Meccano,  Dinky Car, and, of course, Hornby OO trainsets fame. So the stroll around inevitably ended up at the tribute to him in the form of a Wetherspoons pub! Interesting decor, including a full #4 Meccano set carefully encased in perspex to make an interesting pub statue.

Too many people for pictures but managed to snap a couple.

Mustn't let this diary forget the culinary side of the holiday. We decided to take Mr D's slow cooker, think saucepan that fits inside vacuum flask. The idea is to boil the food for a few minutes and then leave it slow cook for several hours insulated in some modern hay box. Yesterday was a cheap gammon joint cooked in ginger beer and very nice it was too, served up with Bulgar wheat and mixed veg. Enough for sandwiches today and another meal. Not bad for a £3.50 gammon joint and a 50p bottle of pop!

Hmmm, is yesterday's bad luck still plaguing us? A late enough start to the day (it was warm in bed and cold outside) and then standing for 30 minutes at the wrong bus stop. Well, it would have been the right bus stop last week and probably will be again next week, but there's a diversion on at the moment. Never mind, a short stroll to another stop and a 35 minute ride passing both the Aintree track and the Everton ground found us in Liverpool.

Now it's been 43 years since I last visited the Walker Art Gallery and Liz has never been. A very pleasant 2-3 hours well spent, especially since it was out of that bitter wind. Lots to see although I suspect much of their 20th century collection is now housed in the Tate down by the docks. Would have been nice to pay the extra to view the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition but there was more than enough to see for free. For example as we finished our tour we were in a small space at the top of the stairs to the exit. There were a few sculptures scattered about:  3 Rodin's, a Henry Moore and an Epstein, not too shoddy for a stair landing!

A few works really resonated with us. Here's one made from corrugated iron that Liz particularly liked:

For me it was a Paul Klee commissioned by the Post Office and an interesting arrangement of pop-art words:

Across the road, between the Empire Theatre and Lime Street Station itself is a fantastic old Victorian pub, recently saved by Tim Martin with a £2 million refurbishment and now Wetherspoon's North Western. A huge pub with a back room reserved for CAMRA AGM attendees and an additional bar with 10 local real ales complementing the 12 on in the main bars. An ideal place to stop and write this blog. You'd think! But this is Liverpool, sitting tapping on your tablet is seen as a sign of loneliness, and so any Scouser worth his salt knows his soul will not be redeemed unless he alleviates your boredom by engaging you in continual conversation.

This blog entry was completed back in the van!

Fri 01 Apr - Its Grim Oop North

Well cold and damp, at least.  Last night was bitter considering it is April and this morning's dampness only consolidated the unpleasantness. So once again we didn't get up until gone 10, such a change from my wee hours insomniacal wanderings at home. When we did get up we were van prisoners until the rain ceased. Whoops, 12am, where did the day go? So much for the proposed visit to Speke Hall mediaeval mansion.

Bumped into our neighbours, from the motorhome that appeared on this site yesterday. Helped them find the bus stop whilst we discovered the train station is a 35 minute walk away (probably over 1.5 miles, we'll measure it tomorrow). Into Liverpool too late to do much so mooched around a few camping type shops and admired the architecture.

Liverpool was built on lots of late Georgian/ early Victorian money and there is some sumptuous architecture (and for a moment we'll ignore that most of the money was profit from slavery) to be enjoyed. Pubs feature large in Liverpool life and architecture, former gin palaces exist on many street corner. Not sure how it is that Liverpool still has so many pubs and how so many of them are still wonderful examples of Victorian excess.

The purpose of this weekend is the Campaign For Real Ale (CAMRA) AGM (actual it's not the purpose, which is to visit Liverpool again, but is the excuse). It was fascinatingly nostalgic to go back to my old student union bar, the AGM registration point. So much has changed, so much is still remembered after these 40+ years. Met up with fellow Southampton drinking companions Terry Cowling and Phil Rosenthal and wandered off for an evening of architectural appreciation.

First stop The Philharmonic - if ever there was a pub that could be considered a highlight of Victorian excesses this is it. Sumptuous wooden paneling, beaten copper work and etched windows throughout. The shoulder high, almost tortoiseshell ceramic confessionals that are the gents urinals are unique and would probably be the reason for the building's listed status in their own right. So famous are they that apparently women are allowed in to view (this sentence should probably end with some crude double entendre but let's cut it short there)

From there the Roscoe Head, the working man's equivalent of the toff's Philharmonic. Still lots of wooden paneling but 3 tiny rooms remembering when every pub had a snug. The entire pub would fit into one of the Phil's huge rooms. Still nice to see the old bell pushes above the seats, reminding of an era where service actually meant something.

OK by this time the architectural pretences were over and we just wandered into another excellent pub, The Dispensary. In the previous pub Phil was talking to a Londoner who he met in a pub in Southampton. This time it was Liz and my turn to meet up with a Liverpool real ale fan who we had met on our last trip into the city a year ago. That time she was asking us if we wouldn't mind moving as they were trying to commandeer some space for the local all women's real ale drinking group. It's a small world made smaller when you have common interests like finding good pubs.

Sat 02 Apr - We Don't Need No Insurance

Saturday, CAMRA AGM starts at 09:30, we wake up at 09:45 - whoops! Who was it who said "if you are going to be late, you might as well be really late and enjoy a good breakfast"? Plus it's slashing it down with rain. Still I get chance to try my el-cheapo new RAF Gortex over-trousers on the 1.7 mile walk to the station (see I told you we were going to measure it).

As we got into Central Station we got a text from Terry suggesting meeting up forthwith at the Augustus John pub. A good uphill stretch but the rain gave us the incentive to do it without stopping (unlike yesterday). Greetings exchanged and half-pints enjoyed (see I told you we were responsible drinkers) and time to go into the AGM's afternoon session. Well for Terry anyway; Phil, Liz & I took a bus down to the docks (whoops, sorry - a bus down to the new trendy Liverpool 1 area) to inspect Liverpool's only brew-pub, The Baltic Fleet.

Remember the "small world " from a couple of days ago. Who did we meet in the Baltic Fleet, Derek and Julia, better known as "True Rig & A Doxy", the organisers of last week's Shanty Festival. They were playing in the pub that evening (as they did every Saturday evening). We'd have loved to get back to see them but you can't do everything!

Whilst in the pub we came across this wonderful sign

 If you can't read the last couple of lines here's a close up

Pretty strong words, especially to someone who lost his great-grand-father on the most famous White Star ship, The Titanic!

Back to the AGM to catch Tim Martin's speech. For those who don't know Tim is the founder/owner of the Wetherspoons chain of pubs. An interesting and humourous speech mainly focusing on the inequalities of taxation on beer and food between pubs (high tax) and supermarkets (low tax).

Now Liz and I met in Liverpool 44 years ago and our first date was on the Kop watching Liverpool v Spurs, so it was fitting that we spend the early part of the evening watching the two teams battle it out again. We'd have loved to actually have gone to Anfield, but as I said earlier, you can't do everything.

Sun 03 Apr - A Day Of Rest

You must be joking.

Today's plan was a 5 mile walk taking in two local pubs for Sunday Lunch. And what a great meal it was too. There is no doubt that the cost of living is much reduced up here. The Derby Arms had roast dinners for £5.99. My locally sourced beef was excellent and a huge portion, more meat than Liz and I have together on a Sunday and Liz's chicken breast could easily have been mistaken for a turkey. Top that with an excellent home made trifle (Liz) and a home-made cheesecake with Morello cherries and ice-cream (Brian) and we were struggling to make the remaining half of the walk, much heavier in the stomach and not much lighter in the wallet.

Still walk on we did, to Aughton with its impressive Norman church and less impressive Stanley Arms next door. That's not fair, it's a nice pub, just one that was very busy with food orders on a Sunday lunchtime, and poor Wi-Fi when we needed it to try and sort out just where we might be sleeping tomorrow night.

Back to the van and now we can rest, well a shower each to save time tomorrow and then retire to the van to read, write blogs etc.

Still it's nice and quiet back at the van

Oh OK, it was pretty much a day of rest after all.

Mon 04 Apr - Not Such A Good Day

Well it started off OK, we managed to get off the very damp field in Maghull without needing a tractor pull. I do try to avoid agreeing when some stranger offers to tug me off! Mind you the van slid the first several yards as evinced by some quite horrible muddy scars in the field. A deft manoeuvre to avoid the worst mud patches going through the gate meant all 4 wheels lost traction and the van headed sideways towards the electric fence. Fortunately the ground there was solid enough for me to regain control significantly to make a sharp turn and sail through the second gate onto the concrete safety of the farm yard. Was scary for a moment though.

The Maghull site was on a working smallholding with a chicken run which our parked van backed on to, so every time we opened the door there would be a rush of chickens looking for food. As we left the farm we picked up a box of very fresh eggs, laid by chickens we had begun to know personally. Nice!

The good fortune continued as we bagged Liz's 57th phone box library in a village just south of Preston. The first time we've had to wait for another library user to make her choice and vacate the box before we could effect an exchange.

Then we got to Kendal and it all went wrong! Firstly Kendal is a gateway to pretty much all of the Lake District and so a huge amount of traffic is funneled through it. Funneled being the operative word as it all has to pass through narrow streets and bridges. Slow and unpleasant driving. Or first port of call was a garage on an industrial estate on the far side of town to fill our LPG bottle. So we battled with the traffic through town and found the garage only to discover that their LPG pump was broken. The friendly (note the description here, I shall be referring to it later) lady suggested Calor Gas on a trading estate nearer to town. So we set the satnav which took us back over the bridge (i.e. back through the traffic) to the wrong trading estate - the one we wanted was back on the other side of the river (i.e. back through the traffic), so off we trundle. The grumpy old git (very soon this description will also be referenced) told us they weren't allowed to refill bottles. Grrrr!!!!

Now if you were counting river crossings you may realise we are the wrong side of the river for Kendal town. So back across the bridge (i.e. through the traffic) to park, choosing Homebase's car park. Nope that's 90 mins only so won't be enough. Need to right turn, into the traffic to the next car park. At last we are parked up!

You may have spotted a lot of driving around in heavy traffic and no real stop since we set out from Maghull. The more empathetic reader may be wondering, this all seems to have taken a long time, they must be hungry and, more importantly have overflowing bladders by now. Indeed, a public toilet was a pressing priority for both of us. We spot a small shopping centre leading onto the bus station, a most likely candidate. Excellent! Even better, the entrance has a map highlighting the facilities, as expected, at the back next to the depot. The map failed to mention the "Closed for maintenance" sign hung over the door, the sign itself also failed to mention a nearby alternative.

Assuming a cross-legged gait, probably reminiscent of some Romanian folk dance we minced down the high street until we found a department store. At last! Apart from the Gents was hidden in such a deep recess that I had to enquire. Remember that I told you to remember my earlier observation on the friendliness, or lack thereof, of native Kendalians. Well the shop assistant as did pretty much every one else we spoke with was pretty much of the grumpy git demeanour. We can only assume the friendly lady in the first LPG garage was not local!

So Kendal wasn't the best town we'd encountered but things must get better, surely? Then it started raining!

Enough, we headed out to find somewhere for the night. A pub in Ulverston sold 6 real ales and was happy for overnight parking. So off we trundled. Only to find the postage stamp car park already filled with 2 motorhomes :-( definitely not our day. A quick phone round, a campsite is found. End of the day.

Actually there were two silver linings. Firstly in Kendal we found a small artisan (if you are not familiar with the word it is synonymous with 'expensive') bakery. The rich dark bread turned out to be wonderful.

The other highlight was a farm shop on the way out of Kendal. The usual interesting (and expensive) local produce meant buying burgers, sausages and beer. We did avoid the Kendal Mint Cake liqueur though! However the real highlight was that it sold raw, unpasteurised milk. Now you would have though that something as simple as unpasteurised milk from a farm would be a simple affair. OK not the cotton capped milkmaid astride a 3-legged stool ladling still-warm milk from a pail but something low-tech. Not so, the milk dispenser was a gleaning chrome and steel oversized drinks machine with two parts. Part one took a few coins and dispensed a 1 or 2 litre plastic milk bottle (exactly the same as used in supermarkets) ready for use in part two where another vending mechanism would pour an exact quantity of (one assumes) fresh milk into the recently purchased receptacle. After a couple of dispenses it seemed to steam clean itself to guarantee hygiene. Much higher tech than expected but the milk was delicious.

Tues 05 Apr - A Better Day

Well, it started off in the same vein as yesterday. We were up late and it was raining. Anyway we drove back into Ulverston in search of LPG. To those not in the know, we have a refillable gas tank but most forecourt LPG pumps don't seem to fill it and it you ask for assistance you are sternly told that they are not allowed to fill refillable cylinders. Except there are certain garages that do so willingly and some have a slightly different style of pump which makes the job a little easier. So we drove onto a pot-holed industrial estate only to be told they didn't do LPG refills. Fortunately the friendly man (this was not Kendal, remember) suggested it was our error and that were simply at the wrong garage, the one we wanted being the big Texaco one we'd passed 1/4 mile back.

Here we go again, I thought. But, no, the Texaco garage was indeed LPG cylinder friendly and after a couple of failed attempts I managed to fill the cylinder (reading the instructions was the key to success). £1.47 for 2.75 litres. We have a tiny 2.7Kg cylinder which cuts off at 80% so I think that means it holds about 4.2l, maybe a little more. So it wasn't quite as close to empty as I thought. Still a 3.9Kg normal Propane cylinder costs about £15, by my reckoning it holds about 6.6 l so would hold  about £3.50's worth of gas at this morning's forecourt price - so out little cylinder should effect quite a saving over time, well worth the effort of having to find places to fill.

Next to the filing station was a large Booth's supermarket. Booth's is a small chain based out of Preston with upmarket supermarkets rivaling Waitrose; indeed their bags for life bear the legend "Preston not Heston" which directly alludes to their competitor. And what a great supermarket it is too. My yardstick is always the beer and in particular the local beer. Suffice to say this supermarket had the largest beer collection I've ever seen in any supermarket (and, believe me, I've inspected many). Indeed, many specialised beer stores would struggle to compete. Not just beer, there own roast coffee varieties and blends, tea choices we've not seen before, a great range of bread and fresh cakes. We were impressed and our trolley chinked in appreciation.

It gets better! Across from the supermarket was a Mountain Warehouse. Now we've been looking for some very large dry-sacks to protect our bedding from condensation but worried about even the largest ones being big enough. Mountain Warehouse had their 80l ones half price, making them by far the cheapest we've seen and we were able to buy one, walk across to the van, try it, confirm it worked before going back to get a 2nd (we needed 2). All this with 10% Girlguiding discount of course.

On then to Barrow in Furness. The once proud dockyards now seemingly replaced with endless new shiny retail parks. Still Tesco had clean toilets and free Wi-Fi, what more do you need! The big purchase of the afternoon was a pair of thermal socks each to try and avoid the near frost bite van foot syndrome - and I can attest they work wonderfully.

The drive up the coast from Barrow to Workington has to be one of the great English drives. Hilly and twisty it's a challenge to keep up a good pace and all around superb scenery unfolds, stunning coastal bays, rugged Lake District peaks and crags, the Isle Of Man, the Solway Firth. A great drive which we ended at Maryport.

Maryport was founded by Humphrey Senhouse and named after his wife Mary, although there was Roman occupation here well before that. The Senhouses built the magnificent Netherhall estate and a sumptuous mansion. Sadly in the mid 20th century the dynasty ended and the estate left to fall into ruin. Little of the house stands today, just the original peel tower and a stables block. The Caravan Club have a small private site in the grounds. It is weird to wander amongst the mossy grass and find bits of the beautiful mosaic floor of the old mansion showing through. All this for £5 a night*. A fellow camper who pretty much lives in her caravan stays here for weeks at a time and popped over with as booklet showing photographic history of the estate in its heyday. How sad to see it go to ruin, especially since it was such an integral part of the town.

* this cheap because it has NO facilities, no toilet, no fresh water we could see, no grey water disposal. Apparently there is a place to dump chemical waste (I.e.  empty the portaloo) but that is hidden round the back somewhere. Still another night of roughing it tomorrow and then on to Berwick, to a big site with loos, showers, all the luxuries!

Wed 06 April - Weather? What Weather?

A colder night last night and our parking up on the driveway rather than campsite field would have meant the exhaust from our diesel heater would have been uncomfortably close to another camper, so being considerate campers we went to bed in quite a cold van and didn't sleep as well as we have done.

No need anyway. At 7 this morning nature provided an early morning alarm call in the form of a tympanic downpour with all the energy and gusto of an Evelyn Glenny solo! Still hopefully the pressure-washing rain removed the last remnants from the van of what appeared to a coordinated mass bowel evacuation of a colony of guillemots.

Since the rain, sodden ground and Arctic winds put paid to any enjoyable expiration of the remains of Netherhall estate we set of to explore the delights of Maryport. I'm not sure whether it was the cold, wet weather or whether it was natural demeanour but "taciturn" might be an appropriate description of the inhibitants. Here's some of the more animated ones:

Too cold to explore the dock side so we pressed on inland to Cockermouth - birthplace of William Wordsworth. Before our planned visit to the poet's home we took in the high street and stumbled upon Banks ironmongers. What a delight! A traditional ironmongers and tool merchants; behind the counter a myriad of Victorian small wooden boxes, each holding quantities of ironmongery, nails and screws and the like, still available to be purchased is loose quantities. Even better the rear of the shop hosted a museum with tools and artifacts of yesteryear. The highlight has to have been an original Alco car. Built in the late 30s as a way to introduce children to driving and so improve road standards from an early age they were a car shell attached to an standard Alco petrol engined lawn mower with its cutting blades removed. Aimed at the 7-8 year old the car has a top speed of about 10mph. Sadly the war intervened and only about 200 or so were made. This one is in excellent condition, despite having been submerged during the 2009 floods. Also interesting were the boxes of metal sole and heel pieces, miniature horseshoes designed to be fitted on workers wooden clogs. Hence the "sparking clogs" in the Brian and Mitchell song "Matchstick Men".

The shop had everything, we decided against the mink trap or even the fork handles but did leave with a couple of souvenirs. Apparently one of our purchases had also recently been purchased by Lady Egremont herself, proving what impeccable taste wot we 'as.

Any shop that stocks these is well worthy of my business:

After an excellent lunch in a local tearoom it was time to move on to Keswick. In future we must check to see when and where the National Society For Obnoxious Children are hosting their coach trips and avoid meeting up with them. To be fair, the Arctic wind was howling, it was either hailing huge gobbets of ice or slashing down and parents had decided, as a school holiday treat, they would bring their kids to the Lakes. Dragging them around a town that is just an endless sea of outdoor clothing shops could well have been the last straw.

The New Balance outlet shop was full of such disaffected darlings, the ship assistants not particularly helpful so Liz left without the pair of new walking shoes she was hoping for.

Onward to our overnight stop. Now one of the factors we had not considered when planning this trip was the effect of several days rain. All the cheap campsite are just fields with maybe a water tap and a drain for dirty water. But all this rain means the van is likely to get bogged down on such a site, it was a close run thing escaping from the farm at Maghull. So the campsite has to have hard standing: gravel, tarmac or concrete. That doubles the price instantly. We found one just outside Carlisle, £14 for the night is more than we'd hoped for but it is solid ground.

And I've just discovered the local pub, a mile away hosts it's own brewery. Now, can we be arsed to walk that far in this bitter wind? Where's my hat?!

Wed 06 Apr #2 - Why We Do It

One of my readers (probably the only one) commented on the negatives posted: cold, wet weather, dour people and chasing our tails hunting for LPG and I could read the subtext "Why bother?".

Here's why. After last night's blog entry we did indeed wrap up warm against the elements (2 hats, the wind was so cold) and brave the just over mile walk to the pub. And a scary walk it was too down a main road without pavement where the 60mph sign seemed to be taken as a minimum rather than maximum.

Arriving at the pub just before 8 we found ourselves the sole customers, not an auspicious start. But they had 3 handpumps of their own Carlisle Brewery beer on (all of which were excellent). The pub architecture was superb, an excellent example of a 1930s art deco influenced wood paneled interior, most of which was still original. No surprise to discover it is Grade ii Listed. Then we read our beer mat which referred us to the State Management Scheme. "The what?," you ask; "The what?", we asked too. Basically in 1916 as part of DORA (the defence of the realm act) the government took over all the pubs in the Carlisle area to try to reduce alcohol consumption of workers at the nearby munitions works in Gretna. They closed pubs, rebuilt others and put civil servants in charge of all the pubs. The goal was to make pubs less working man alcohol centric but more family friendly and food oriented - I suppose having your missus come down the pub might well reduce your alcohol consumption (does in my case). Landlords were not incented on alcohol sales but on sale of soft drinks and meals. 

An interesting experiment who merits further reading. The amazing thing is that whilst a similar scheme in Enfield was stopped in 1921, here in Carlisle it continued until 1973!! Social engineering on a grand scale. The Spinners Arms was an example of a 1930 pub under the scheme built by the scheme's main architect, Harry Redfern.

Wonderful stuff but it gets better, just before 9, a group of musicians wandered in, set up in a corner and started jamming folk tunes. No house band, no fees, just a group who enjoy playing together and use the pub to indulge their talent. And very talented they were too. This sort of informal music where musicians jam together and the rest of the pub ignore them (no applause) is quite rare even in Dublin where a few such places still exist but to find such craic here over in England is rare indeed. 

And very enjoyable, all instrumental, mainly reels and airs that were very heavily Irish influenced. Good stuff and sad that we felt we needed to leave before the end.

Anyway one night like that, great architecture, great beer, great music and an interesting snippet of English history we were totally unaware of - that's we we suffer the weather, traffic, and glum faces of shopkeepers.

Thurs 07 Apr - All Along The Watchtowers

Oh, oh our first van problem. We awoke to see a nasty damp patch around the rear roof hatch. The very slight angle of the van meant that water had pooled up against the side of the hatch wall and there must be a small gap in the seal. Too difficult to sort out now, it needs a tall step-ladder to reach properly but I soaked up all of the water pooled on the roof and reaching up from inside smeared some silicone around the edges as best I could. All done by feel as I can't get to inspect my handiwork and probably quite a mess but it might just effect a seal. Not too much problem if not, we just need to check water pooling each night and soak up as much as we can so there is none to sneak in.

After the bad start the day improved rapidly. The evil wind has dropped and it has been fairly sunny all day. Perfect for our driver across country, literally. Rather than hammer along the main roads we chose a more scenic route from Carlisle, upon to Bellingham, across to Alnwick and then asking the coast past Seahouses, Bamburgh and into Berwick. Once again stupendous scenery and fascinating geography with crags, gullies, escarpments, and lots of other features I can't name.  I should have paid more attention to at school.

Much of the journey was along Roman roads, much parallel to Hadrian's Wall (and all its watchtowers, hence the tenuously linked title). So dead straight but only in the horizontal plane. The equivalent of tight bends up here are the multitude of "Sudden Dip" signs.

It's wild country and you've got to be pretty tough to live up here. Even the larger towns like Bellingham and Otterburn are little more than villages and very isolated. Must be hard in the winter, and everyone probably owns a Land Rover. Nice to go back through Bellingham, it was the location of our first holiday after having the girls. They were pre-school and Granny offered to look after them whilst Liz and I took a week earned break. Not sure why we chose Bellingham, maybe the isolation, more likely a cheap deal we found somewhere, in those pre-internet days.

On to Alnwick and its castle and gardens. The gardens are on our want to visit list but today we settled for a mooch round town and a couple of hot chocolates in the local tearooms. To find out the difference I ordered the deluxe whilst Liz insisted on having the regular. The difference: whipped cream, marshmallows, Flake, the whole shooting match. Thence on up the coast through the strange seaside resort of Seahouses, strange because I'm can't believe it gets seaside warmth up here too often. Onwards to Bamburgh with its impressive overbearing castle, another must visit! Probably the most impressive looking castle in the UK. Would make a good photograph if we could have easily parked.

Not a great start to Berwick, I dropped the power cable ready to hook up to the site's electricity and on picking it up I discovered I had found a pile of dog pooh. All over my hands, in every nook and cranny of the plastic plug. What an unpleasant mess. Don't get me started about irresponsible pet owners!!

Fri 08 Apr - Out And About

OK, chores day. We will be getting short of underwear and socks soon, so Liz has to spend a little time in the launderette. This site was deliberately chosen because it has such facilities. Whilst she organises that Brian has the task of emptying the van's chemical toilet. As we only use this for liquid waste it's not too onerous a chore, although this morning the chemical disposal point was a little walk away and the toilet particularly full!

Still it's a nice walk across the campsite

Washing up and showers too, meant that the chores took most of the morning. Off to explore Berwick then. Note the weather is important in all of this and the sun is shining brightly so the plan is to walk the 1.25 mile circumnavigation of Berwick's walls. Alas, as soon as we walk the three quarter mile trip into town, partly over a long and ancient bridge across the Tweed, the weather suddenly turns cold and squally, not really suitable walking weather. So time to provision.

Yesterday in Alnwick we picked up a bread "stottie", a flat, bottom of the oven loaf, today's baker provided dessert, a " bannock", a round, very fruit laden loaf. Very nice they both were too. The local butcher once again helped Brian in search of the perfect pork pie; a good attempt but not in the top 10 (unlike the one from Wigton two days ago which was excellent). We've neither tried a Scotch Pie yet, but Liz enjoyed the black pudding pie!

A local green, organic shop was the only place we could find a bottle of the locally brewed Bear Claw beer and also locally roasted coffee (both probably produced within sight of where the van is camped). Although that type of organic shop did mean somewhat extravagant pricing. A quick pop into a tiny micro-pub and then back to the van for an early afternoon, the weather was just too cold and unpredictable. On the walk back over the bridge we spotted a grey seal directly below us in the Tweed. Note to self, make sure you have the binoculars with you at all times.

Back to the van for 6, and a night in, we're planning an early start tomorrow. Yes, 7 am alarm call. Why? You'll have to wait until the next blog entry to find out!

Sat 09 Apr - Holy Island

In memoriam, Alan Hull, founder of Lindisfarne.

Today's early, early alarm call 07:00 meant we were at the bus stop well in plenty of time to catch the bus out to the island, about a 12 mile or so journey. We could have taken the van but would have had to be mindful of tide times, the island is only reachable at low tide. Anyway it turns out Liz's OAP bus pass works so the only fare is £8 return for her toy boy. And anyway bus travel is greener and far more pleasant.

Liz and especially I are not religious, so why bother visit the site where St Aidan and St Cuthbert brought Christianity into Northumberland and, eventually the rest of England? Quite simply, because Lindisfarne, it's priory, those early saints are a quintessential part of what defines being English! They defined Englishness for centuries. That original rift between the Celtic church and the Roman Church must have sewn the seeds for Henry VIII's break away from the Vatican and the subsequent Catholic/Protestant warring. If Oswald has not converted to Christianity would we all still be worshipping Woden?

One thing that hacks me off is all these English Nationalist groups, calling for the banning of the burkha and making St George's day a national holiday. Have any of them taken the trouble to explore what being English means? Do any of them know any English history? What about culture, can any of them sung a traditional English folk song or dance a traditional English folk dance, I doubt it. If we have to have a patron saint let's make it Aidan or Cuthbert, not some Turk who never set foot in this country who just happened to be a favourite of a King who didn't even speak English and who tried his hardest not to set foot here either.

The island was fascinating, a little community isolated from the mainland, its main trade being tourism although I hope the few fishing boats still maintained a living for probably families who have relied in them for decades, if not centuries.

Back to Berwick early afternoon (that's all the time the tides would allow us) and since it still wasn't raining, time to walk the walls. The town has been reinforced in Elizabethan times to ward of the Scots and had impressive ramparts, each with gun enclosures to catch those heathen Catholic Scots in lethal crossfire should they ever deign to threaten God's own Proddies! Believe me, this is some serious defence work, and the UK's first garrison town to boot, prior to Berwick having its own garrison, squaddies were housed by the local townspeople, I bet that was fun!

Then for an evening meal. The painter Lowry was a fan of Berwick and many of his paintings depict parts of the town. 

When in town Lowry stayed at the Castle Hotel which the local butcher had told us did an excellent steak dinner special. If it's good enough for Lowry it's good enough for me. And it was, two huge local steaks, chips, all the trimmings and a bottle of wine for £30. Makes up for that cheap fish'n'chip meal on our anniversary a week or so ago. And if this hotel could offer up a bottle of wine with only 20% markup (i.e. it sells in Majestic for £9.99 and is in the Crown's menu for £12) then why do southern restaurants make at least 100% markup?

One slightly sour note of today, first thing this morning Liz took a walk to the toilet block. On her return there was a bloke with a placid Labrador walking close to her, coming the other way was someone with two little yappy terriers. The terriers took umbrage that another dog should be in their vicinity and got frisky. They were on those extensible leads and one ran behind Liz and attacked her, leaving either a purple claw or tooth mark in her ankle. Unfortunately she was not using her walking stick at the time or a canine rectumotomy may have needed to be performed.

Sun 10 Apr - To Alnwick, Maybe Not

Plan A: catch the bus to Alnwick and visit the Castle, famous Physic Gardens and bookshop. So yesterday we checked with Berwick Tourist Info about bus prices, something that Arriva seemed to deliberately hide online, apart from student pricing. Perhaps they assume the only folk smart enough to figure out their online website are students. Well they had me baffled, that's for sure.

Berwick Tourist Info don't know for sure but give us a ballpark figure which was perfectly reasonable. And then - the guide whispers to me, "but you don't want to go on a Sunday". Why not thinks I,  internet research suggests everything is open, perhaps there are strange religious sects lurking to drag us off the street and into a Nunnery (I really must stop having cheese just before bedtime, it gives me the weirdest, most enjoyable dreams). No, on a Sunday the bus goes the scenic route and takes 2 hours to complete the 34 mile journey; weekdays the express bus takes well under half that time.

OK, 4 hours sat on a bus is just too much a price to pay for the day out. Now we could just drive there, but that breaks holiday rule #1 which is to park the van up at a campsite and only move it when absolutely necessary, preferably only when moving on to the next campsite.

Plan B, stay in Berwick and go to the museum. That'll work, especially after last night's chance encounter. On the way home last night we popped into The Curfew, Berwick's micro pub. For those unfamiliar, micro pubs are a new phenomenon where a small pub starts up in a small premises, usually an old shop and buys real ale in minimal quantity so beers are always changing. Did you spot the emphasis on "small" in that definition? In the case of The Curfew think shipping container with a bar at one end. Standing is almost mandatory because the few seats they do manage to shoehorn in are guaranteed to be occupied.

Where was I? Oh yes, chance encounter. So at the bar next to me last night stood a young chap wearing a shirt emblazoned with "Northern Edge Coffee". Now if it is one thing I've learned from my Dad is that it never hurts to strike up a conversation in a pub. So I mention how good it is to find a coffee roaster in Berwick. Long story short, he plans to be at the roastery Sunday morning and if we want to drop by for a tasting we are welcome.

Now the roastery is actually very close to the campsite so off we trot at 11, full of expectation and expecting to get full of coffee and the place is shut. Rats!! C'est la vie.

Anyway off to Berwick Museum by way of a decent Sunday Lunch back at the Castle Hotel. The food (and beer) was so good yesterday, definitely worth a revisit. The museum in the old barracks was 3 museums in 1, a history of the King's Own Scottish Borderers Regiment, a history of Berwick barracks, and a history of Berwick, including a small art gallery. The military stuff was interesting enough but not me, the town museum was quirky with odd artifacts, but did have the Holy Island electro-mechanical telephone exchange. Fascinating to dial one of the other handsets in the museum and watch the relays click and whirr.

Oh, the highlight of the day? Seeing the grey seal again off the bridge. On the way into town the tide was out and a lot of white water around the bridge parapets. The seal was in some calmer water with his head obligingly out of the water the entire time it took from us spotting him to Liz bring her camera to eye-level, whence he immediately dived. Then a canoeist appeared riding the white water, what fun that appeared. Liz took some shots but we were certain that his presence would spook the seal and move it elsewhere. Not so, just a few metres from the canoe up popped the seal's head, coordinating exactly with Liz closing the zip on her camera case! This time Liz re-engaged camera in record time and managed a snap microseconds before the seal disappeared beneath the foam once more.

Don't you just love a happy ending?!

Mon 11 Apr - Tom Hanks And The Knights Templar

It's mid-April and the wind is bitter still. Enough is enough, let's have some warmth. No, the forecast suggests even colder nights to come before the daytime temperatures eventually reach double figures.

Before we leave Berwick, like Basil Fawlty, I feel I must mention the war. There is a rumour doing the rounds that Berwick is still at war with Germany. Totally false! The rumour should be that it is still at war with Russia, also false but not as false!

The story goes like this, back in the day, Berwick changed hands so often that proclamations often said "Great Britain, Ireland, Berwick-upon-Tweed and all British Dominions". It is purported that the declaration of war against Russia in the Crimea was so worded. However the Treaty of Paris neglected to include the Berwick bit leaving the town still at war.

Subsequent checks by the Foreign Office have proven this to be nothing more than rumour but not before Robert Knox the then mayor of Berwick met with Russian Officials in 1966 to sign a peace treaty, " just in case ". Apparently Knox told the officials " Please tell the Russian people they can sleep peacefully in their beds".

Anyway let's leave Berwick and head to Edinburgh. Not hammering along the A1 but let's take the coastal route out through Eynemouth and Dunbar and past all those seaside links golf courses. Passing the very impressive Bass Rock, a jagged vertical block menacing just off shore. Pity the weather is drizzly, would have made a nice photograph. Mind you coming over the top of some hills in mist and suddenly seeing a huge wind farm just off the road was impressive. The huge towers loomed up out of the gloom quite menacingly.

Dan Brown probably did Roslyn Chapel an incredible favour by featuring it in The Da Vinci Code. It now gets hundreds of thousands of tourists a year from all over the world. But what a well deserved visit it is! The chapel is unique. Quite small, part of an unfinished larger church it probably houses more carvings than any grand cathedral. And what carvings they are, fantastically ornate, depicting Bible characters, angels, moral tales, Green Men, the founder himself, plants including something purported to be maize - several decades before Columbus's trip to America! No wonder the legends abound. An excellent interpretation room has been built alongside with some state of the art graphics explaining the history, building process, and interpretation of some of the sculpted works. No photography inside, and a bitter, bitter wind outside means we can't share as much of the visual experience as we would have liked.

Now safely tucked up in Edinburgh with the van's heater on!

Tues 12 Apr - If It Was'nae For Yur Wellies

Just one of the following statements is true:

• We had a lovely tour of Edinburgh Castle
• We took in all the sites, including Greyfriars Bobby
• We had a wonderful shopping experience in Edinburgh's boutique shops
• It slashed it down with rain all day and we trudged round best we could

Now I'm guessing the title has given it away! What an 'orrible day. Still tomorrow's set to be even worse!

We did get into the city. We did have a very interesting tour round The Museum On The Mound which is the old Bank Of Scotland building and so a museum dedicated to money. £1,000,000 is not as big as pile of twenties as you might think. A nice museum, well organised and plenty for kids to do. Interesting to see that all the profits from the gift shop go to Children In Need. Crikey I  might even start thinking these bankers want to be seen as fair and kindly people who merely want a fair share of society's wealth, if I'm not careful. Not sure the new note design will be accepted though.

Much of the rest of the day was spent either sheltering from the rain or looking into outdoor shops to investigate better clothing to keep the rain off body layers. Sitting down in pubs features largely but only because they were dry.

At least now we have our bearings. Tomorrow's dashes to museums etc will be informed dashes rather than haphazard wanderings. But it is a bit sad to be in the heart of such an historical and vibrant city and be thinking how nice it is to be back in the warm and dry of the van.

Wed 13 Apr - The Edinburgh Tourist Bit - At Last

Well the forecast yesterday was for heavy rain today, but this morning it suggested light rain with, wait for it, the possibility of not rain for some of the afternoon. Perfect Scottish site-seeing weather (well as good as it gets anyway).

First stop - Greyfriars churchyard. Remember those days when there was not a dry eye in the house when the 1960's classic Greyfriars Bobby came on the TV. Well my sister does and when we mentioned we were going to Edinburgh it was the first thing she associated with the city. So a photo of the wee duggie's grave was in order.

Next a stroll through the Grassmarket, site of mediaeval marketplace and gibbet, now a trendy eatery and chic shop area, situated at the bottom of the castle rock. Then the 187 steps up the Castle Wynd to the castle itself. I'm glad to see the Edinburgh Royal Mile site classifies Castle Wynd as a shortcut for the fit. Fit we are not, knackered we were!

Thanks to our Christmas pressie of English Heritage membership being over two years old we get free admission to Historic Scotland sites, and a good thing too - it was probably getting on for half the cost of our EH gift! Perfect timing though as a tour was just about to start - however, we were informed this would be slightly curtailed tour so we could all get back down to the lower level in time for the one-o-clock gun ("187 steps", "back down to the lower level", your probably getting some idea of the three dimensionality of this part of the day).

Every day since 1861 a gun has been fired as a one-o-clock time signal. One-o-clock local time, not GMT, UTC or whatever. Why one-o-clock not 12 noon? I suggested to the guide was a Scottish thing that someone realised the cost of 12 shots and decided paying for just one would be more prudent. The real reason, of course, is that the time signal came from Grennwich via the telegraph and would take enough time to reach Edinburgh too late for an accurate 12 noon signal so they settled on the next hour.

Lots more to see in the castle, including the Honours Of Scotland, the Scottish Crown Jewels and the small rectangle of rock known as the Stone Of Scone on which monarchs have been chilling their buttocks in coronations since Scottish king David 1. I was particularly impressed with lifesize brass replicas of the Honours, along with Braille descriptions so that those that could not see the display could also experience it.

On then in the rain to seek shelter in the National Museum Of Scotland. Mistake, we should have come here first thing and spent the day here. We'd barely got started before an assistant was tapping us on the shoulder warning us it was 10 minutes to closing time. Highlights were the Lewis Chessmen although the lion's share of the horde is in the British Museum. The astronomy section was interesting but the natural history section was fascinating. Instead of the usual boring classification by genus, each of the displays took a different theme e.g. differing number of legs, or a particular aspect like flight and displayed animals of all orders that were unusual in the category, Much more interesting and stimulating for youngsters (and us not so youngsters). But only having 90 minutes or so meant seeing but a fraction of this fascinating museum.

Still raining and we're hungry - now one thing Edinburgh is not short of is pubs, many very good ones at that. The Real Beer Guide suggested a wonderfully fitted Victorian gin palace where we managed to squeeze past the crowds of vertical drinkers at the bar to snaffle the last remaining table. My steak with Orkney ale pie was a bit predictable but Liz sampled more local fare with her Haggis, tatties and neaps.

And guess what, when we stepped outside for the bus it had stopped raining!

Thurs 14 Apr - Travelling

Not much to say about today - we left Edinburgh and went to Glasgow. Full Stop.

Well, we went the scenic route at least, avoiding the network of motorways that seem to connect the various parts of both cities. A quick look in a couple of outdoor clothing suppliers en route - somehow our waterproof gear has been tested to the limit over the last few days or so and maybe it is time we shelled out some significant spondoolicks on getting something really waterproof. But, indecision, as always, has deferred the decision for a few days. A quick break in Airdrie (necessitated by full bladders) gave us chance to try local cuisine - a scotch pie (pie case with, in this case, cold soggy minced beef in the bottom) and a bridie (a pasty shaped pastry with a beefburger stuffed in the middle) followed by two excellent local cakes.

The campsite is on the outskirts of Glasgow at Stepps. It is a weird site, just place for 10 vans on a huge site which is still being built and appears to contain a mix of holiday apartments and retirement accommodation. Still it's a lovely site close to the train station and has won awards for being green - I wonder how the waterless urinal in the gents works?

The only other lowlight/highlight of the day was the trip to the local pub to catch the Liverpool v Dortmund game. Lowlight because the pub had no real ale and the only keg bitter was so tasteless I switched to lager for my second pint. Add to the fact the barmaid was one of the least friendly we've ever encountered it was a pretty dour experience (I've been saying "you don't go to Scotland for the weather", I can add to that "and you don't go to Glasgow for the hospitality")

So if it was that bad why stay for a 2nd pint? Good question especially when Liverpool were 2 goals down and needed to score 3 to save this European quarter-final. Could I bear watching the 2nd half or just cut and run after one pint. No, I decided to stay - Liverpool pulled one back straight after half time, there was hope - I'll get that 2nd pint. Then Dortmund scored again and the bad beer in a bad pub seemed to have been a bad decision. Then Liverpool scored again - my "Yes!!!!" in a rather loud tone silenced the pub of people that have no interest in futbah south of the border. All eyes turned to me, the stranger in a strange land. I was quiet for the third goal and dumbstruck when Liverpool won it in injury time. That 2nd pint wasn't such a bad idea and maybe it tasted really good, after all!

Fri 15 Apr - The School Of Architecture

Ok, so it's not raining this morning. But the forecast isn't good so let's take waterproofs, just to be sure, eh!

Glasgow's a bit flatter than Edinburgh so walking is much easier. Of course, walking is a better option when it isn't raining. So we bought combined train and subway tickets, £6.60 each to travel between 100 plus stations, all day. That's less than a return from Chandlers Ford to Winchester. Brian, stop banging on about it - Southampton has the most expensive bus prices in the UK, get over it and just hope that bus passes still exist in a couple of years time when you become eligible.

On the topic of bus passes, what definition of United (as in United Kingdom) is it that means Liz's bus pass doesn't work here in Scotland?

Oh, and a funny thing happened in the way to the train station. We were about half way from the campsite when an elderly lady called out to us from her doorstep. Her voice was quite weak and with the accent we couldn't work out what she wanted but she pointed to her garden gate so we opened it and went to see how we could help. All she wanted was a firm arm to help her walk the length of her garden path and a few further yards up the road so she was ready and waiting for the Asda bus. Good deed done for the day and it's not even bob-a-job week.

I digress, stop one of today - the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery. Another one of those all day places that we couldn't do justice to in half that time. Highlights were the Rennie Macintosh and Glasgow School exhibitions - some stunning works, and a personal bucket list tick for me - Dali's Christ Of St John On The Cross. That painting was the first painting that made me realise art was something more than just capturing an image. Stunning!

Lots more including some interesting sections on design and how to appreciate art. Lots of famous paintings, Constable's Hampstead Heath, Lowry's VE Day (although a non-matchstickmen Lowry seascape proved what a great artist he was) and Strang's portrait of Vita Sackville West to name but a few.

We missed quite a bit of the art as we wanted to get to a second museum. But a slight delay, leaving the Kelvingrove, it was, once again, absolutely slashing it down. Fortunately there was a Brewdog bar directly across the road that made an ideal half-pint shelter before braving the slightly less rain back to the subway and on to Scotland Street School Museum. 

The school was designed by Mackintosh (after much arguing with the School Board to build the building he wanted - subterfuge meant he got many of the design ideas in but not the rich tiling he had planned for the interior). Still interesting architecture with stunning windows giving huge amounts of natural light. A slightly disappointing museum (not fair, it was probably good but the previous two - the Kelvingrove and National Museum had been outstanding). Still, once again we were leaving almost right on closing time.

The Good Beer Guide let us down, both pubs we looked in were just too crowded to be any good for our meal so we settled on an almost as crowded Wetherspoons. I don't think the crowding is a result of fewer pubs in Glasgow, just more clientele.

Our final port of call was the West Of Scotland Radio Club - not many members tonight but we were made most welcome and watched an interesting presentation on Chinese kits including a £20 oscilloscope I've been thinking of buying just for the fun of building it. Most interesting and some good ideas.

Oh, and it had stopped raining and was a nice, but cold evening steel back to the station.