For some reason I couldn’t write any more on that last post...
So, on my second airport bus trip. I take the last seat - which is next to a toddler. Again, tell my tale of woe to that family, and shoot off the bus as fast as I can when it stops. Not as fast as the Schlubbs - who really are moving.
I can’t help noticing that the signs to the gate I am heading for again appears last in the range of gates on all the signs. And sure enough, when I reach the corridor it is on, it is the very last gate - again. Is there some auto setting when you are running late?
And by this time I really am running. I figure it can only be half a kilometre. I can run that far...
Glimpses of departure boards along the way show the status as Go to gate ( I’m trying!) - which is definitely better than Flight closed. As I get closer, I can see there is a queue. But after all this I can hardly believe it. “Are you waiting for the flight to Wellington?” I gasp to a friendly face in the queue when I am close enough.
“Yes,” she smiles.
“I thought I was late,” I exclaim in relief as I head to the back of the queue. Which now that I am stopped, I notice isn’t moving...
As I catch my breath, they make the announcement. Engineering have a concern about the plane (never what you want to hear) and they will have more news about departure times at 7. If you have lounge access you can go back there. Well, at least that is good news.
I head for the lounge to wait in comfort.
A departure time of 8:05 is eventually announced. Putting arrival to Wellington at around 1:30am.
Finally we board. This time from a gate that is NOT the last one in the corridor. When the pilot comes on he announces that we will be aiming for 1:30 arrival - which is when Wellington airport closes. So if we are late we have to land in Auckland instead.
Aaargh. I’m still not on my way to Wellington!
But lucky for me we DO make it. We must have landed at 1:29 ...
Matt and Haley are still there waiting for me. And turns out we are close enough to walk home from the airport.
So - a more eventful journey than I was hoping for - but maybe it is all about the destination after all.
Thursday, 28 February 2019
Wednesday, 27 February 2019
It’s about the journey not the destination .”.
I am writing this morning from the cosy and comfy living room of the air bnb that I am sharing with Haley and Matt.
Through the windows you can actually SEE the airport. You can hear it a little - but their sound insulation must be really good because it is a dull hum rather than an overwhelming roar.
I am particularly pleased to be here because at various points in my journey yesterday I didn’t think I was going to get here. Although I would have ended up SOMEWHERE.
When I booked my flight I booked it from end to end -Canberra to Wellington. And I probably paid more attention to the price and the time it was leaving Canberra than to things like whether there was really time to get from one plane to the other in Sydney.
When I really concentrated closer to the time, I was concerned that there was an only an hour between flights. I mentioned it to the girl behind the desk when I checked in - but she reassured me that it would be OK.
So it was a DASH 8 plane - slightly longer commute but cheaper... Of course I was seated in the very back row. Then, after a slightly delayed take off they announced that we were going to stay in the air for another 15 minutes due to delays in Sydney. All of that meant that as we taxied in it was 5:45 - which was also the time printed on my boarding pass for the next leg of my trip - Sydney to Wellington.
So - DASH 8. My hand luggage was too big and had to be checked. Every other time I have got off a flight like this the checked hand luggage has been waiting at the bottom of the steps. Not today. The luggage handlers are unloading it and all us dopes with the big bags have to wait around while they bring it over. “I’m really worried,” I say to the chap who appears to be in charge,”My international flight is supposed to be boarding right now.”
“Well, I can’t make this any faster,” he says, calmly. “And you have to get between terminals and through Immigration- so they probably won’t hold the flight that long. But you can get on the first bus to the terminal.” Because today, of course, the plane is parked so far from the terminal that we need a bus.
I scramble onto the first bus (my new pal having reopened the doors just for me. A lovely man has been watching me with my rabbit in the headlights panic face and has stood up so that I have a seat. Of course I chat to him and the fellow next to me. “Wellington will still be there. There are lots of flights.”
“Yes,” I say, “But mine was getting in at 11:45pm already. There won’t be lots of other flights TODAY. “
Mentally I am preparing for a night in Sydney. And am grateful that our tour of Weta workshops is booked for the afternoon.
I bolt off the bus first to cries of good luck and wind my way at speed through the twists and turns and stairs to the actual gate. Gate 15 is what I need to transfer to the next terminal. Of course, we have come in two long corridors away from it. Off I go.
Where are those moving walkways when you actually need them?there appear to be none on my route.
I tell my tale of woe to the lady controlling the queue for the transfer bus. Luckily they are boarding one just as I arrive. “Where were you?” She says.
This strikes me as an odd question. “Where do you think I was?” I wonder. Do you think I just popped into the Domestic terminal for a spot of shopping on my way out.” But I reply, mildly, that I was on a plane from Canberra and she puts a stamp on my boarding pass that says priority- but seems to make no actual difference at all. They are much more concerned about the Schlubbs, who turn out to be another couple late for a flight.
I scramble to the bus - last one on again - and off we go
Through the windows you can actually SEE the airport. You can hear it a little - but their sound insulation must be really good because it is a dull hum rather than an overwhelming roar.
I am particularly pleased to be here because at various points in my journey yesterday I didn’t think I was going to get here. Although I would have ended up SOMEWHERE.
When I booked my flight I booked it from end to end -Canberra to Wellington. And I probably paid more attention to the price and the time it was leaving Canberra than to things like whether there was really time to get from one plane to the other in Sydney.
When I really concentrated closer to the time, I was concerned that there was an only an hour between flights. I mentioned it to the girl behind the desk when I checked in - but she reassured me that it would be OK.
So it was a DASH 8 plane - slightly longer commute but cheaper... Of course I was seated in the very back row. Then, after a slightly delayed take off they announced that we were going to stay in the air for another 15 minutes due to delays in Sydney. All of that meant that as we taxied in it was 5:45 - which was also the time printed on my boarding pass for the next leg of my trip - Sydney to Wellington.
So - DASH 8. My hand luggage was too big and had to be checked. Every other time I have got off a flight like this the checked hand luggage has been waiting at the bottom of the steps. Not today. The luggage handlers are unloading it and all us dopes with the big bags have to wait around while they bring it over. “I’m really worried,” I say to the chap who appears to be in charge,”My international flight is supposed to be boarding right now.”
“Well, I can’t make this any faster,” he says, calmly. “And you have to get between terminals and through Immigration- so they probably won’t hold the flight that long. But you can get on the first bus to the terminal.” Because today, of course, the plane is parked so far from the terminal that we need a bus.
I scramble onto the first bus (my new pal having reopened the doors just for me. A lovely man has been watching me with my rabbit in the headlights panic face and has stood up so that I have a seat. Of course I chat to him and the fellow next to me. “Wellington will still be there. There are lots of flights.”
“Yes,” I say, “But mine was getting in at 11:45pm already. There won’t be lots of other flights TODAY. “
Mentally I am preparing for a night in Sydney. And am grateful that our tour of Weta workshops is booked for the afternoon.
I bolt off the bus first to cries of good luck and wind my way at speed through the twists and turns and stairs to the actual gate. Gate 15 is what I need to transfer to the next terminal. Of course, we have come in two long corridors away from it. Off I go.
Where are those moving walkways when you actually need them?there appear to be none on my route.
I tell my tale of woe to the lady controlling the queue for the transfer bus. Luckily they are boarding one just as I arrive. “Where were you?” She says.
This strikes me as an odd question. “Where do you think I was?” I wonder. Do you think I just popped into the Domestic terminal for a spot of shopping on my way out.” But I reply, mildly, that I was on a plane from Canberra and she puts a stamp on my boarding pass that says priority- but seems to make no actual difference at all. They are much more concerned about the Schlubbs, who turn out to be another couple late for a flight.
I scramble to the bus - last one on again - and off we go
Wednesday, 20 April 2016
Heading for London via Bletchley park
From Oxford we follow the wartime path of many an Oxford graduate and head for Bletchley park.
The exhibits in Bletchley mansion and the huts do a good job of evoking some of the sights and sounds of the place in the war era and there are a. Number of accounts from people who worked there during the war included in the audio guide.
Volunteers have reconstructed one of the "bomb" machines based on plans and fragments and run demonstrations of it cracking a code. The story of Alan Turing that emerges is naturally a little different from the movie plot - although the ending for him after the war is sadly accurate.
We spend a couple of happy hours pottering around and gathering all kinds of tidbits of knowledge before it is time to hit the road to the capital.
After experiencing the weird and wonderful roads and crazy amounts of traffic of the U.K., we have abandoned plan A - which was to drive to our hotel in Bayswater and drop off our luggage and then drop the car at Heathrow and are opting instead to drop the car at Heathrow and use the Heathrow express to get close enough to drag the luggage to the hotel.
The journey is a little complicated by rain. If the Eskimo have 50 words for snow, I feel that that there should be more words in English to cover all the different types of rain that they experience in England. Today we start with "mysfall" - rain that you can SEE falling - but is not really heavy enough for an umbrella. This moves on to "plinking" - rain that would make a "plinking" sound if it fell into a bucket of water. As we hit the ring road around London this changes to "fogdrop" rain which is sufficiently heavy to creat a fog effect behind it - making it difficult to see.
Anyway - enough of my musings on rain. The sad fact is that it makes navigation into town even more tricky because it is hard to spot the road signs early enough.
Fortunately it all goes to plan. The Heathrow express is pricey - but very efficient. The walk from Paddington station to our accommodation in Bayswater is long - but we make it. And as we arrive between 5 and 6 we all agree that walking is preferable to trying to cram ourselves into the tube.
It feels odd not to have the big black Merc in our lives any more - but Grant is definitely relieved not to have to do any more driving!
The exhibits in Bletchley mansion and the huts do a good job of evoking some of the sights and sounds of the place in the war era and there are a. Number of accounts from people who worked there during the war included in the audio guide.
Volunteers have reconstructed one of the "bomb" machines based on plans and fragments and run demonstrations of it cracking a code. The story of Alan Turing that emerges is naturally a little different from the movie plot - although the ending for him after the war is sadly accurate.
We spend a couple of happy hours pottering around and gathering all kinds of tidbits of knowledge before it is time to hit the road to the capital.
After experiencing the weird and wonderful roads and crazy amounts of traffic of the U.K., we have abandoned plan A - which was to drive to our hotel in Bayswater and drop off our luggage and then drop the car at Heathrow and are opting instead to drop the car at Heathrow and use the Heathrow express to get close enough to drag the luggage to the hotel.
The journey is a little complicated by rain. If the Eskimo have 50 words for snow, I feel that that there should be more words in English to cover all the different types of rain that they experience in England. Today we start with "mysfall" - rain that you can SEE falling - but is not really heavy enough for an umbrella. This moves on to "plinking" - rain that would make a "plinking" sound if it fell into a bucket of water. As we hit the ring road around London this changes to "fogdrop" rain which is sufficiently heavy to creat a fog effect behind it - making it difficult to see.
Anyway - enough of my musings on rain. The sad fact is that it makes navigation into town even more tricky because it is hard to spot the road signs early enough.
Fortunately it all goes to plan. The Heathrow express is pricey - but very efficient. The walk from Paddington station to our accommodation in Bayswater is long - but we make it. And as we arrive between 5 and 6 we all agree that walking is preferable to trying to cram ourselves into the tube.
It feels odd not to have the big black Merc in our lives any more - but Grant is definitely relieved not to have to do any more driving!
Oxford and around
Accommodation in Oxford turns out to be prohibitively expensive so we opt for a rural location NEAR Oxford for our next stay.
On our way we stop in at Blenheim Palace. The entry fees are steep - but I have some sympathy. The place is GIANTIC. I don't know what can have possessed the first Duke of Marlborough to build such a pile. No wonder the crown stopped funding him. And he only got to live in it for the last little bit of his life and even then it was unfinished.
We enjoy the capability Brown designed gardens and the Winston Churchill exhibition. I am particularly jealous of the cascade - a waterfall designed to provide the maximum noise and a pleasing falling water effect from the end of the artificial lake. There's also a rather good multimedia tour of some upstairs rooms that cleverly feature the ghost of a lady in waiting to the first Duchess of Marlborough - who is credited with managing most of the construction phase (Kevin would say, "And the duchess has decided to project manage the whole process herself...").
Our hotel has a slight odour of horse manure on our first night - but we feel it just adds to the rural charm. There is room to spread out a bit in the room - which we appreciate. And dinner is served at a bar in the premises and is both tasty and reasonably priced. Saves us worrying about where to go!
The next day the girl at the desk has worded us up on the Park and ride option for Oxford. Only a 5 minute drive away - all day parking is only £2 and a nice bus driver does all the tricky bits of navigating the twisty Oxford streets. We head in for a walk around town.
Oxford seems like the centre of all things English for me. We walk past the door of a college (no entry for the public) which looks ancient and is being propped open by a box of croquet equipment and watched over by a student. We pass a coffee shop where a chap in a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbow is smoking a pipe as he chuckles to himself over a book about chess. I couldn't make this stuff up!
On a more practical note - we climb the tower of university church to get up close and personal with the gargoyles as well as a great view of the town. Narrow stairs and a narrow platform at the top that would be much more regulated anywhere else - but we enjoy it. We love all the ancient buildings and glimpses into green quadrangles.
The absolute highlight though is the Museum of Natural History. I love the building - which has a glass roof. Every column around the edge is made of a different type of stone and the carvings at the base and top of each represent the leaf of a different plant.we love the dinosaur skeletons I. The middle - including Stan the T-Rex.
At the back is the Pitt River museum - which looks just like the attic and basemen of an eccentric British explorer. The place is crammed with glass cases of everything from musical instruments to shrunken heads. There is just too much to take in and we can only sample a small portion of one of the three floors of displays.
Then it is back to the hotel to reorganize our belongings in preparation for dropping off the car.
On our way we stop in at Blenheim Palace. The entry fees are steep - but I have some sympathy. The place is GIANTIC. I don't know what can have possessed the first Duke of Marlborough to build such a pile. No wonder the crown stopped funding him. And he only got to live in it for the last little bit of his life and even then it was unfinished.
We enjoy the capability Brown designed gardens and the Winston Churchill exhibition. I am particularly jealous of the cascade - a waterfall designed to provide the maximum noise and a pleasing falling water effect from the end of the artificial lake. There's also a rather good multimedia tour of some upstairs rooms that cleverly feature the ghost of a lady in waiting to the first Duchess of Marlborough - who is credited with managing most of the construction phase (Kevin would say, "And the duchess has decided to project manage the whole process herself...").
Our hotel has a slight odour of horse manure on our first night - but we feel it just adds to the rural charm. There is room to spread out a bit in the room - which we appreciate. And dinner is served at a bar in the premises and is both tasty and reasonably priced. Saves us worrying about where to go!
The next day the girl at the desk has worded us up on the Park and ride option for Oxford. Only a 5 minute drive away - all day parking is only £2 and a nice bus driver does all the tricky bits of navigating the twisty Oxford streets. We head in for a walk around town.
Oxford seems like the centre of all things English for me. We walk past the door of a college (no entry for the public) which looks ancient and is being propped open by a box of croquet equipment and watched over by a student. We pass a coffee shop where a chap in a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbow is smoking a pipe as he chuckles to himself over a book about chess. I couldn't make this stuff up!
On a more practical note - we climb the tower of university church to get up close and personal with the gargoyles as well as a great view of the town. Narrow stairs and a narrow platform at the top that would be much more regulated anywhere else - but we enjoy it. We love all the ancient buildings and glimpses into green quadrangles.
The absolute highlight though is the Museum of Natural History. I love the building - which has a glass roof. Every column around the edge is made of a different type of stone and the carvings at the base and top of each represent the leaf of a different plant.we love the dinosaur skeletons I. The middle - including Stan the T-Rex.
At the back is the Pitt River museum - which looks just like the attic and basemen of an eccentric British explorer. The place is crammed with glass cases of everything from musical instruments to shrunken heads. There is just too much to take in and we can only sample a small portion of one of the three floors of displays.
Then it is back to the hotel to reorganize our belongings in preparation for dropping off the car.
Taking the waters in Bath
Next stop on the study tour is Bath.
The weather puts on a gorgeous day for us so that the local bath stone takes on a golden glow as we drive into town.
Our hotel is uphill from town - about a 15 minute walk in, possibly longer for me on the walk back as it is quite steep.
First stop is the Roman baths. The exhibit here is really well put together. You get an audio guide as part of the entry fee and there are lots of large projections showing how the Romans would actually have used the baths - also a Bill Bryson commentary option for some areas. I found it fascinating and well worth a visit.
Right next door is the pump room. Although I couldn't quite face the 22.95 (around $50) per head for the full afternoon tea (just call me 's Stingypants) we managed to have a nice afternoon tea with live chamber music in the background. After so many years reading Georgette Heye novels set in Regency Bath - how could I resist!
Just a few streets away the Assembly rooms have been restored. We didn't go to the costume museum which is in the same building - but I loved looking at the a actual rooms where so many scenes I had read had been set.
Bath was a lovely town to walk through and seemed to be filled with lots of shops and cafes that we wished we had time to explore. We all wish that we had left Cardiff sooner and spent longer in Bath.
To finish the evening off - the pub up the road from the hotel serves an excellent meal. We have it pretty much to ourselves. We also turn out to be the only guests at the hotel that night - in spite of the insistence from the guy who checked us in that we move the car over to allow more room for others to park. Oh well.
The weather puts on a gorgeous day for us so that the local bath stone takes on a golden glow as we drive into town.
Our hotel is uphill from town - about a 15 minute walk in, possibly longer for me on the walk back as it is quite steep.
First stop is the Roman baths. The exhibit here is really well put together. You get an audio guide as part of the entry fee and there are lots of large projections showing how the Romans would actually have used the baths - also a Bill Bryson commentary option for some areas. I found it fascinating and well worth a visit.
Right next door is the pump room. Although I couldn't quite face the 22.95 (around $50) per head for the full afternoon tea (just call me 's Stingypants) we managed to have a nice afternoon tea with live chamber music in the background. After so many years reading Georgette Heye novels set in Regency Bath - how could I resist!
Just a few streets away the Assembly rooms have been restored. We didn't go to the costume museum which is in the same building - but I loved looking at the a actual rooms where so many scenes I had read had been set.
Bath was a lovely town to walk through and seemed to be filled with lots of shops and cafes that we wished we had time to explore. We all wish that we had left Cardiff sooner and spent longer in Bath.
To finish the evening off - the pub up the road from the hotel serves an excellent meal. We have it pretty much to ourselves. We also turn out to be the only guests at the hotel that night - in spite of the insistence from the guy who checked us in that we move the car over to allow more room for others to park. Oh well.
Thursday, 14 April 2016
Visiting Dr Who in Cardiff
the thing about visiting a city for a very short time is that your view of the place can be shaped by all sorts of randomness aspects of your experience. Like the weather or where you stay...
Cardiff was on our itinerary for one thing - the Dr Who experience.
Our chosen accommodation - just because of financial constraints (did I mention that deciding to sell your house and buy a new one just when you have an overseas trip booked is a REALLY BAD IDEA) was an Ibis budget. Turns out that this was one step below my comfort level...
The other thing about Cardiff is that it is on the coast. In Australia this may make you think of sun- drenched beaches. In Britain our experience is that it should make you think of gale force winds and driving rain.
We arrive in town and do our usual initial search for food. Cardiff actually has a really nice pedestrian area in the middle that locals cycle through. At least I am sure it is lovely when the gale force wind previously mentioned isn't blowing.
We pass the castle in our travels. I can't quite believe it - but I think we are actually OVER castles. Because passing the outside is all we want to do.
Eventually we find a pub that does a really reasonable carvery. It is Sunday night - so I guess someone who was more attuned to sport than I am would EXPECT the football to be showing on multiple large screens and crowds of people to be reacting to every goal. Luckily it was soccer rather than rugby. This makes me feel uncomfortable - but I am like that about sport.
Dani and Grant let me sit inconspicuously at the table and fetch the food. When it arrives this is a HUGE serving of delicious roast.
While we are eating the rain starts. At 45 degrees. We arrive at our unlovely budget hotel soaked to the skin.
Next morning it is off to Dr Who! We catch a bus through the drizzle and are there for the first show of the day. The whole exhibition is excellent. A theme park style adventure with the Doctor followed by an exhibition of all kinds of memorabilia. Both Whovians enjoyed it immensely.
The drizzle was well and truly set in by the time we emerged. Undaunted, we go for a walk around the Cardiff docks area. It reminds me a little of the darling harbour area in Sydney. There are lots of pictures of it with blue sky in the background - we feel these must have been photoshopped. But somehow cold and unappealing on a cold and drizzly day. We head back to the shopping plaza and try to figure out what to do. Somehow we don't find the prospect of visiting the castle appealing. We also can't seem to find a cafe and end up in a shopping mall cafe - pleased that it is dry and relieved not to be walking any more.
Cardiff redeems itself a little when we find a nice pub for dinner - the Duke of Wellington - and the rain stops.
So - not a place we will be keen to head back to. Possibly should have been back on the road right after Dr Who. Oh well - sometimes you just can't tell until you are there.
Cardiff was on our itinerary for one thing - the Dr Who experience.
Our chosen accommodation - just because of financial constraints (did I mention that deciding to sell your house and buy a new one just when you have an overseas trip booked is a REALLY BAD IDEA) was an Ibis budget. Turns out that this was one step below my comfort level...
The other thing about Cardiff is that it is on the coast. In Australia this may make you think of sun- drenched beaches. In Britain our experience is that it should make you think of gale force winds and driving rain.
We arrive in town and do our usual initial search for food. Cardiff actually has a really nice pedestrian area in the middle that locals cycle through. At least I am sure it is lovely when the gale force wind previously mentioned isn't blowing.
We pass the castle in our travels. I can't quite believe it - but I think we are actually OVER castles. Because passing the outside is all we want to do.
Eventually we find a pub that does a really reasonable carvery. It is Sunday night - so I guess someone who was more attuned to sport than I am would EXPECT the football to be showing on multiple large screens and crowds of people to be reacting to every goal. Luckily it was soccer rather than rugby. This makes me feel uncomfortable - but I am like that about sport.
Dani and Grant let me sit inconspicuously at the table and fetch the food. When it arrives this is a HUGE serving of delicious roast.
While we are eating the rain starts. At 45 degrees. We arrive at our unlovely budget hotel soaked to the skin.
Next morning it is off to Dr Who! We catch a bus through the drizzle and are there for the first show of the day. The whole exhibition is excellent. A theme park style adventure with the Doctor followed by an exhibition of all kinds of memorabilia. Both Whovians enjoyed it immensely.
The drizzle was well and truly set in by the time we emerged. Undaunted, we go for a walk around the Cardiff docks area. It reminds me a little of the darling harbour area in Sydney. There are lots of pictures of it with blue sky in the background - we feel these must have been photoshopped. But somehow cold and unappealing on a cold and drizzly day. We head back to the shopping plaza and try to figure out what to do. Somehow we don't find the prospect of visiting the castle appealing. We also can't seem to find a cafe and end up in a shopping mall cafe - pleased that it is dry and relieved not to be walking any more.
Cardiff redeems itself a little when we find a nice pub for dinner - the Duke of Wellington - and the rain stops.
So - not a place we will be keen to head back to. Possibly should have been back on the road right after Dr Who. Oh well - sometimes you just can't tell until you are there.
Sunday, 10 April 2016
Brother Cadfael and Laundry
The next spot on our itinerary that is a must see is Cardiff - not for any rugby related reason, but because it offers the Dr Who Experience. This is a must see for Grant and Dani as true Whovians.
It is a long stretch from the Lakes to Cardiff, though and and the break point for this journey has been a bit of a challenge as the path is through the industrial North of England. We toyed with Nottingham and a spot of Robin Hood spotting in Sherwood Forest - but then I spotted Shrewsbury. It turns out that in addition to the Brother Cadfael connection (grant and Dani have no idea who Brother Cadfael is) there is a temporary exhibition at the local museums about Vikings - for Dani and a nearby RAF museum for Grant.
We set off from beautiful sunshine in the Lakes - but in true form the clouds are gathering by the time we reach Shrewsbury. It is Spring and time for April showers after all.
The omens on the way into town are good - we are due to turn left at a T intersection where we are faced by New Zealand house (why?). The left turn has a road closed sign and the traffic is backed up (they call that a queue here) but as we approach the road closed sign is removed. There appears to be some kind of military parade through the streets that we have just missed.
The museum is at the opposite end of town from our hotel, so we park the beast and set off for a walk into town wearing our trusty waterproof jackets. On the way we pass the abbey church - which sports a broken bit of wall on the side where part of the abbey was demolished by Henry VIII. Clearly no rush to neaten this up.
The Main Street of the town turns out to be charming with a large selection of Tudor buildings. The shops look interesting (window shopping only). More individual shops and less chains than in some
other places. The town square has a market and a seriously old market building (wish this would let
me load photos) from around 1100
The museum turns out to be lovely. It focuses on local history - and as there has been some form of settlement at the side of the river Severne since the Iron Age there is a lot of history to offer. There is a good collection of Roman artifacts.- including a lot of intact pots Some unfortunate traders whole market stall appears to have been overturned and somehow buried
Of course lots from the Tudors and information about Coalport pottery - which is nearby. It is also the birthplace of Charles Darwin - so there are some bits and pieces about him too.
The Viking exhibition is a little smaller than I might have hoped- but Dani is happy anyway. A lot of it seems to have come fromYork. The Viking displays there being currently closed while they recover from the floods.
On he way back we stop in at the abbey church. I have bought a booklet with walks that let you identify the real places in the (fictional) Cadfael books - but it is a bit too complicated. And I find as I read the guide that I don't REALLY remember the stories all that well at all. The church seems to have more than its fair share of medieval tombs though. So is interesting anyway.
After all our exploring we are a bit weary so opt for an Indian restaurant near the hotel for dinner. This is our first experience of English Indian food and it is very good. We like the way they serve pappadams with condiments (mango chutney, lime pickle and some others I couldn't identify) as a starter.
The next mornings he plan is for Grant to have his time looking at old aircraft at the RAF museum. This is not so interesting to Dani and me. We are planning to go to a nearby shopping centre instead - but I suggest that maybe it would be a good time to get some laundry done - as we are almost at the point of having more dirty clothes than clean ones.
Google maps tells us that there is a laundry in the town of Dawley nearby so Grant drops Dani and me and the dirty clothes off there. Dawley is no attractive tourist village. It's Main Street is not enhanced by the fact that nearly all the shops are shuttered on a Sunday morning.
Similarly the laundry is not a tourist centered facility with change machines or dispensers where you can buy detergent. It does have some seriously large washing machines though.
A kindly local gives us some washing detergent and fabric softener and fills us in on the machines a bit. We load up and set it off and find places around the place where we can perch and use our electronic devices - chairs also being something not particularly seen as necessary in this launderette. I am happily engrossed in my book when Dani points out to me that we have been there almost an hour and the machine's 45 minute wash cycle is showing no signs of ending. She lifts up the
dispenser at the top and water is still flowing into the machine.
On Sunday's the launderette runs without any on site staff. Dani rings the number on display - but we hear the phone ringing behind the locked door at the back of the room and she just gets a recorded message.
In the hope that it is a small enough town that people will know each other, I try the other open shops -the supermarket, a particularly grotty pub where all conversation stops when a stranger walks in and the sleek betting shop - but nobody has any contact details for the launderette prproeter.
I think we will be stuck there until they return to shut up shop at 4pm - but Dani is made of sterner stuff. She climbs over the chest high machines and turns it off at the PowerPoint. This drIns the machine - but we still can't open it and extract our clothes. Whether they are clean or not doesn't seem to matter at this point. She makes the climb again and turns the machine on again - but this still does
not release the door.
At last she tries a button on the back of the machine. Fortunately this is NOT the self-destruct but advances the machine through the cycle. HOORAY!
We stop it at spin and mercifully it proceeds through that bit without incident and releases the door!
We retrieve theclothes immediately. Fortunately the tumble drying goe without any further excitement.
It is a long stretch from the Lakes to Cardiff, though and and the break point for this journey has been a bit of a challenge as the path is through the industrial North of England. We toyed with Nottingham and a spot of Robin Hood spotting in Sherwood Forest - but then I spotted Shrewsbury. It turns out that in addition to the Brother Cadfael connection (grant and Dani have no idea who Brother Cadfael is) there is a temporary exhibition at the local museums about Vikings - for Dani and a nearby RAF museum for Grant.
We set off from beautiful sunshine in the Lakes - but in true form the clouds are gathering by the time we reach Shrewsbury. It is Spring and time for April showers after all.
The omens on the way into town are good - we are due to turn left at a T intersection where we are faced by New Zealand house (why?). The left turn has a road closed sign and the traffic is backed up (they call that a queue here) but as we approach the road closed sign is removed. There appears to be some kind of military parade through the streets that we have just missed.
The museum is at the opposite end of town from our hotel, so we park the beast and set off for a walk into town wearing our trusty waterproof jackets. On the way we pass the abbey church - which sports a broken bit of wall on the side where part of the abbey was demolished by Henry VIII. Clearly no rush to neaten this up.
The Main Street of the town turns out to be charming with a large selection of Tudor buildings. The shops look interesting (window shopping only). More individual shops and less chains than in some
other places. The town square has a market and a seriously old market building (wish this would let
me load photos) from around 1100
The museum turns out to be lovely. It focuses on local history - and as there has been some form of settlement at the side of the river Severne since the Iron Age there is a lot of history to offer. There is a good collection of Roman artifacts.- including a lot of intact pots Some unfortunate traders whole market stall appears to have been overturned and somehow buried
Of course lots from the Tudors and information about Coalport pottery - which is nearby. It is also the birthplace of Charles Darwin - so there are some bits and pieces about him too.
The Viking exhibition is a little smaller than I might have hoped- but Dani is happy anyway. A lot of it seems to have come fromYork. The Viking displays there being currently closed while they recover from the floods.
On he way back we stop in at the abbey church. I have bought a booklet with walks that let you identify the real places in the (fictional) Cadfael books - but it is a bit too complicated. And I find as I read the guide that I don't REALLY remember the stories all that well at all. The church seems to have more than its fair share of medieval tombs though. So is interesting anyway.
After all our exploring we are a bit weary so opt for an Indian restaurant near the hotel for dinner. This is our first experience of English Indian food and it is very good. We like the way they serve pappadams with condiments (mango chutney, lime pickle and some others I couldn't identify) as a starter.
The next mornings he plan is for Grant to have his time looking at old aircraft at the RAF museum. This is not so interesting to Dani and me. We are planning to go to a nearby shopping centre instead - but I suggest that maybe it would be a good time to get some laundry done - as we are almost at the point of having more dirty clothes than clean ones.
Google maps tells us that there is a laundry in the town of Dawley nearby so Grant drops Dani and me and the dirty clothes off there. Dawley is no attractive tourist village. It's Main Street is not enhanced by the fact that nearly all the shops are shuttered on a Sunday morning.
Similarly the laundry is not a tourist centered facility with change machines or dispensers where you can buy detergent. It does have some seriously large washing machines though.
A kindly local gives us some washing detergent and fabric softener and fills us in on the machines a bit. We load up and set it off and find places around the place where we can perch and use our electronic devices - chairs also being something not particularly seen as necessary in this launderette. I am happily engrossed in my book when Dani points out to me that we have been there almost an hour and the machine's 45 minute wash cycle is showing no signs of ending. She lifts up the
dispenser at the top and water is still flowing into the machine.
On Sunday's the launderette runs without any on site staff. Dani rings the number on display - but we hear the phone ringing behind the locked door at the back of the room and she just gets a recorded message.
In the hope that it is a small enough town that people will know each other, I try the other open shops -the supermarket, a particularly grotty pub where all conversation stops when a stranger walks in and the sleek betting shop - but nobody has any contact details for the launderette prproeter.
I think we will be stuck there until they return to shut up shop at 4pm - but Dani is made of sterner stuff. She climbs over the chest high machines and turns it off at the PowerPoint. This drIns the machine - but we still can't open it and extract our clothes. Whether they are clean or not doesn't seem to matter at this point. She makes the climb again and turns the machine on again - but this still does
not release the door.
At last she tries a button on the back of the machine. Fortunately this is NOT the self-destruct but advances the machine through the cycle. HOORAY!
We stop it at spin and mercifully it proceeds through that bit without incident and releases the door!
We retrieve theclothes immediately. Fortunately the tumble drying goe without any further excitement.
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