ianbee: this is instead of getting a dog

Dogs like Cadbury's Mini-Eggs but they shouldn't eat them

The flight to Australia was uneventful, apart from being distracted by a stewardess running down the isle clutching a fire extinguisher. Breakfast service was uninterrupted, so I remained unruffled, even though she ran past me again in the opposite direction.

The guy at passport control wanted to know why I felt it necessary to import English chocolate into the country. "It's not as good as ours, is it?" I smilled and kept quiet, as we all know that Australian chocolate is rubbish.

My friends never got to discover this truth for themselves as Einstein the dog sensed an opportunity and stuck his head into my luggage and ate two packets of Mini-Eggs when no-one was looking. Did you know there is an iPhone app ("ChocoTox") that tells you how much chocolate it takes to kill a dog given the weight of the dog and the cocoa content of the chocolate?

He's fine.

 

Random cycling event

Seeing the Tour de France all over the telly has reminded me about when I accidentally stumbled upon a cycle race earlier this year. I was in Genoa, just for a day. I don't know who was riding, or where they had travelled from, but they whooshed through the city and finished the race at the top of a hill, which seemed a bit harsh.

There were three girls in short skirts helping hold the winners onto the podium. A guy in a stripey top told them what to do.

In the hours before the race finished they let little kids cycle up and down the closed streets, which was nice.

Despite watching many hours of the Tour de France last year, I still don't really understand it. Lots of riders who are taking part aren't even trying to win, they're just helping someone else win by cylcling slightly in front of them. And they wear different coloured tops depending on who is in the lead, or is best at hills. And there remains the awkward, unanswered question about what they do if they need to wee during the race. It's all a mystery. Anyway, here are the winners of what appears to be The Colli Cup! I think the second place cup looks better than the first place cup.

Ferry

When in Scotland the other week I ended up taking the ferry between Glenelg, on the mainland, and Kylerhea, on Skye. I've always wanted to get this ferry, she's the last manually operated turntable ferry in Scotland, apparently. She also takes you to an amazing pub, and somewhere where you can see otters.

Sorry about the old-fashion looking photo. It was't one of those time-travel ferries, I was just messing about with my phone. The ferry can take up to six cars, although I was told that they once fitted eight minis on it! On the way back mine was the only car travelling. A ferry just for my car, myself, my two Australian passengers, the two ferry crew, the captain's grand daughter and a dog.

I have blurred the number plate in case there are spies or terrorists reading this. That appears to be the protocol.

 

 

 

Channel Tunnel, missed opportunity

I went through the Channel Tunnel last week. I've always wanted to go to Europe* by train, and I finally got my chance.

It was actually something of a disappointment. Not the holiday, just the act of travelling to France by train. There was no sense of drama, no buildup, no hype. The train enters a tunnel (no warning) and then twenty minutes later it pops out again. The only indication that anything momentous has happened is a text from a French mobile phone company with their roaming tariffs.

This is not acceptable. The barest minimum requirement should be a bell that sounds when we enter the tunnel, accompanied by a moody change of lighting. I mean, it's amazing! What a missed opportunity! Ladies and Gentlemen we are in a TRAIN that is about to go into a TUNNEL that goes under the SEA!!! The train should glide to a halt in front of big doors which open dramatically exposing the black hole beyond. A mysterious musty smell should be mixed in with the air-conditioning. All the French people on the train should change into stripy tops. Come on! Celebrate this wonderful engineering achievement! We can travel very fast underground between two completely different countries with different languages, money and time. You can buy cake and coffee and go to the loo while beneath the sea! You can take your car! It's brilliant!

* I know the UK is in Europe, but when British people go to France we still call it "going to Europe". Even though, when I go to the bathroom, work, or Waitrose I am going to Europe. Don't ask why, it's just what we do.

 

Ulva

I needed a cup of tea. So we paid a bloke with a boat to take us across the sound to Ulva, and the Boathouse cafe. Where the carrot cake is as fresh as the lobster that gave up its life in the kitchen whilst I focused on the cream-cheese topping.

If the boat man hadn't been around, we would have summoned him using the magic red square, as is being demonstrated on the left.

Ulva boasted a population of over 800 people in the mid 19th Century. Now only 16 people call this stunning place home. Still, at least they have access to first class cake.

I love the Scottish Islands. I would be happy to spend every holiday for the rest of my life (obviously apart from the occasional snowboard trip!) sailing between them, driving across them, exploring them by land and sea. Sitting on their beaches, climbing their hills and eating their cheese. Mmmm cheese.

Mull

I loved Mull. They have those tiny little shops that sell absolutely everything but no-one ever seems to buy anything. There was one little shop which seemed to be run by an old man who wasn't very stable on his feet, or nimble with the cash register. It was timeless; Mars Bars were still 40p and postcards 15p. His premises was crammed with books and calendars and coffee and flapjack and cotton wool and jigsaws. Yet the space felt no bigger than the cupboard under the stairs. We bought surprisingly good coffees and wrote postcards whilst he watched over us, listening to Rachmaninoff on the radio. I lay awake that night fearful for the future of his little shop, wishing it a long and prosperous future but sternly expecting that it wouldn't be there should I return, so I don't think I'll go back and look for it. It would just make me sad.

 

Iona

Iona, a small island off a small island off a small island. An American friend I met in Australia has been working in the abbey kitchens over the summer. I was lucky enough to be invited to a couple of meals in the refectory. Joke: How can you tell if there's a vegan at dinner? Don't worry, they'll let you know.

John Smith, the old Labour Party leader, is buried here. I found his grave. It made me feel sad. I went to one of the abbey services and helped blow out the candles afterwards. There was one big candle within a red holder and I almost got tackled to the ground as I went to extinguish it. Apparently it symbolised the presence of God and isn't meant to go out. I guess it's like the ravens at the Tower of London.

The hostel was full of dutch people (tall, snored, sadly no clogs). One dutch guy was reading a book in the lounge and another dutch guy walked in and introduced himself. The first guy got really animated, and when I asked him later he told me that the man was the author of the book he was reading!

Tongariro Crossing

After the April wedding I took the train into the heart of the North Island to walk the Tongariro Crossing, one of the most famous and spectacular walks in the world. My friend from Auckland joined me and we rattled around in a huge refurbished barn. She was doing market research for a supermarket so each night we had to cook a meal with a different, unmarked, tin of "beans in an Italian sauce" and answer a detailed questionnaire on our experience. "Did the smell of this product make you think of Italy? Did the texture of this product make you think of Italy?" Thankfully the beans were made palateable with the addition of venison and red wine.

 

The walk was spectacular. You climb up into the crater plateu of an old volcano, with a younger volcano towering impressively above. The variety on the walk was amazing, some moments were as desolate as the moon, with a huge grey boulders appearing out of the mist. At other times we were surrounded by colour and the sulfurous steam rising from the rocks meant the ground felt alive.

 

I'm glad wasn't around when the top blew off this baby.

 

Honestly, one of the most impressive days of my life. Put it on your bucket list (without the beans).

Orange bus stop, file under 'random'

 

Only one pair of shorts

You should look up the weather for Shetland. It's quite sobering, chances are it's grey, cloudy, raining or all three. I hit a continuous run of sun against form that had Shetlanders scrambling for their shorts. There are some very pale legs that far north! I remember what it was like, before going to Australia, only owning one pair of shorts.

 

(This was my favourite spot. I want to live in the little white house on the right.)