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Thursday 8th April 2021 – TODAY, I’VE HAD …

… another one of those nautical days that we have every so often.

There has been so much traffic on the waters today that I’ve really been spoilt for choice when it came to taking photos because I could have taken 100 and still not done justice to everything that was going on out there at sea this afternoon.

When I went out there this afternoon for my little walk around the headland I was overwhelmed by the amount of nautical traffic that was bobbing up and down on the high seas, from the smallest plank-boarders to some of the larger trawlers and freighters that hang around the port.

And it wasn’t just out at sea that we were having all of this excitement.

It was pretty busy in the harbour this morning too. One of or favourite boats, the little Jersey Freighter Normandy Trader has come into port on the overnight tide. She’s now tied up underneath the crane at the loading bay while the personnel of the Chamber of Commerce make ready to unload her.

You can see all of the material on the quayside already. I reckon that this is the load that she has to take back with her to St Helier. And you can see how busy she is with all of that load. No wonder her owners are talking about buying a larger boat

And it’s not just at sea and in the port that we are extremely busy. Thee was quite a lot going on in the air today too.

The bright sunny weather has certainly brought out the aeroplanes this afternoon, like this one that overflew me as I walked my weary way around the headland. I’ve no idea what it is because I couldn’t see the registration properly. I can see the last three letters – VNA – of its registration.

Although I checked, there was nothing of that registration that had taken off from or landed at Granville Airport this afternoon. It’s probably frustrating me deliberately by not filing a flight plan so people like me can’t identify it.

So while you admire the picture of the busy port this afternoon with the crowds of boats queueing up and the portable boat lift now tackling Lys Noir, I’ll tell you about my busy morning.

It was rather a late night, although not as late as it has been once or twice, so I was able to leap out of bed with alacrity when the alarm went off.

After the medication I attacked the dictaphone notes for the last couple of days seeing as I missed out on doing it yesterday. And if you now look at yesterday’s entry, you’ll see that that is now up-to-date with the entries for yesterday now incorporated. Now that those were out of the way I could turn my attention to last night’s travel.

Some people came round to my house, including an old friend of mine so I invited a girl to come along as well. I made all of the arrangements but just at the last moment when I was getting ready to receive my visitors I had a ‘phone call to say that this girl was having to go into work so she wouldn’t be able to come. I had a little morning’s entertainment with these people and just strode out and the followed me. They went their separate ways. I just happened to be walking past their house when a car pulled up and these 3 girls got out. 1 of them said “so-and-so will run you home” referring to her youngest sister. “She knows the trick about the car”. They parked up but then they saw me walking past and asked “Eric, are you coming in?”. I walked up the path towards the door to join them.

having dome that I turned my attention to the photos from August 2019 on my North American Adventure and managed a few of those before it was time for me to go off for my shower.

And having done that, I wandered off out on my way to the shops for my mid-week shopping trip.

My route took me past the top of the Rampe du Monte à Regret where they are using the poor state of the medieval wall as a training ground for young apprentices.

And sure enough, there were about half a dozen there, a few of whom were females, something that is always nice to see. All of them with their trowels and mortar boards doing a nice rightward lead along all of the cracks. It brought back many happy memories of when I was POINTING THE WALLS AT MY HOUSE all those years ago.

having watched them for a while I pushed on … “pushed off” – ed … down the steps and on into the town.

And it looks as if they are getting ready for the summer season, such as it might be this year, in the town.

The other day when we were around the town we saw the candyfloss and sweet stand that had arrived in the town and was now parked up hear the harbour. Today I noticed that the kiddies’ roundabout has arrived and has now been set up in the Place Charles de Gaulle ready to entertain them for the next few months.

My next port of call was LIDL for the midweek session of my weekly shopping. I didn’t want all that much from there so I ended up with quite a light load. So not to waste the trip I stocked up with some soya milk and some tomato sauce because I can always use that sort of thing and I never seem to have enough.

On the way back home I had to go along the Rue Paul Poirier, and that wasn’t as easy as it might have been.

There were roadworks in the street today and it was closed to all traffic. Not for pedestrians though so I could make my way along there and while I was it it, I could see what they were trying to do.

They had half of the road dug up near the junction with the Rue Etoupefour but as for why, I didn’t have any idea. They were digging a small trench and one of the guys was relaying the cobbles where there is the 5-minute waiting spot, cutting a few of them with his stone cutter to make them fit into their spaces. I suppose we’ll have to wait for a few days after they have cleared off in order to see what they have been doing.

At the other end of the street, having pushed my way through the roadworks, I crossed over the road and started to go up the Rue des Juifs where I glanced down at the junction of the Place des Corsaires and the Rue Etoupefour.

There was a man down there with some of the cobbles pulled up, chipping away at them. I’m sure that it can’t be a coincidence with people working like this at both ends of the street . They must be doing some kind of work in common so I suppose we’ll find our about that in due course too.

Anyway I carried on up the Rue des Juifs with my light load hardly impeding me at all. I wasn’t going to say that I ran up the street but it was a good climb up there with hardly a pause for breath.

There was an occasion to call for a pause halfway up the hill because there was something of interest going on at the docks.

One thing that I’ve noticed is that each of the Jersey freighters, Thora and Normandy Trader has started to carry a couple of small sealed containers, presumably with private freight, and this morning they were unloading one of them from the deck of Normandy Trader and putting it on the quayside ready to be taken away.

That was all of the excitement for the morning. I wandered off home for my hot chocolate and sourdough fruit bread and to continue with my photo editing.

Unfortunately I didn’t manage to do too many because I crashed out on my chair. And crashed out completely too. I must have been out for about an hour and a half altogether. As a result I had a very late lunch.

After lunch, seeing as it was a nice sunny day with very little wind I went and attacked Caliburn’s door.

Trying to take off the door card was a contortionist’s delight and it took me an absolute age to free it off just so far that I could put my hand inside the door skin. And as for where the spring clip that holds on the window winder went, I have absolutely no idea.

Being able to put my hand inside the door skin was one thing. To actually open the door was something else and my hands ended up black and blue with cuts and bruises but with a great amount of force and inconvenience I finally managed spring the catch and open the door.

With the door open I could re-attach the bits that had fallen off and do the necessary adjustments and now the door will open from the outside as well as the inside. But I’m not putting the door card back on until I’m sure that it works.

While I was out there working, I was not alone.

Yesterday we saw the seagull on the windowsill of one of the apartments on the other side of the building. And this time the bird is waiting at the correct window – the one where there is the plastic bird model on the inside. And you only have to look at the state of the window to see how often it is that the bird calls there.

But anyway, I went off inside to put away my tools and then came back outside to go for my afternoon walk in the sunshine.

The first thing to do was to go to the wall at the end of the car park to look over the wall to see what was going on down on the beach today.

The tide is quite well in this afternoon so thee wasn’t all that much beach to be on today but even so, there was still enough room for a few people to wander about. These two people were having a pile of fun leaping about from rock to rock down there and they will probably keep on doing it until the tide comes in and cuts off their only means of retreat.

There was no retreat for me today. I was continuing my walk along the path on top of the cliffs. And despite the really nice weather there was hardly anyone else about so I had the place pretty much to myself

A little earlier I mentioned that there was quite a lot going on in the air and I mentioned the light aeroplane that flew by overhead.

We also had another regular visitor going past me overhead this afternoon someone whom we haven’t seen for quite some time. It’s the old yellow autogyro that we’ve seen in the past on several occasions. We saw a different one, a reddy-orange one, fly past us the other day and it made me wonder when we would be seeing this one again.

She was flying quite high over my head too, much higher than normal and he had a passenger too so they presumably are on one of these sightseeing trips that she does every now and again

The French have a saying jamais deux sans trois – “never two without a third”, and that applied to the aircraft that I saw today.

In fact they may well have said “thirty-third” because there were so many in the sky this afternoon. Today’s choice of aircraft is an Airbus A320-232 that’s operated by Vueling Airlines, a Spanish low-cost airline and is operating their flight VY7826 /VLG7826 which is the 15:00 from Barcelona heading to Gatwick Airport.

Her registration number is EC-MVE and airframe number 8130 which means that she was built about three or so years ago and supplied new to the airline which means that she was supplied new to the airline in February 2018.

She wet past me over head at about 25,000 feet and 388 knots and had already started her descent down to the Gatwick flight path as I was watching her

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we have spent a great deal of time discussing Chausiais, the little freighter or barge that runs the freight between the Ile de Chausey and the mainland.

She’s usually been tied up at the ferry port or in the inner harbour but today I’ve actually been lucky enough to catch her on her travels, coming back from the ile de Chausey.

She’s down there now manoeuvring her way between a couple of yachts as she returns to the port after her little run out. I suppose that with all of the tourists and second-home owners being here fleeing the lockdown in Paris, she has plenty of work to do, ferrying the supplies out there to the island.

From the end of the headland I followed the rail of yachts Chausiais and all of the fishing boats towards the harbour.

The harbour gates into the inner harbour aren’t open as yet but the time can’t be that far off because the queue of trawlers around them waiting to go in was quite oppressive. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen so many loitering around the harbour gates. Chausiais had quite a struggle to fight her way into her berth.

Earlier on we saw the portable boat lift wrapping her slings around lys noir but I didn’t hang around long enough to see what they were going to be doing with her. Instead, I carried on along the path.

While I was walking around on the path above the harbour I’d noticed a sail being erected in the inner harbour. And earlier while I’d been fixing Caliburn’s door, I’d seen my neighbour Pierre who owns Spirit of Conrad in his working clothes leap into his car and drive off.

Putting 2 and 2 together, I assumed that it must be Spirit of Conrad that was having her sail hoisted, and it seems that I was quite right. It looks as if she’s being prepared for the sea again so I wonder where she might be going this time. We had fun on her when we were down the Brittany coast last summer.

Back at the apartment I had a coffee and then finished off the day’s photos from August 2019. I’m now on the Bozeman Trail at the site of the worst humiliation of the US Army at the hands of the native Americans prior to the battle of Little Big Horn where Colonel Fetterman and his entire troop of 79 soldiers and four civilian scouts were cut down by Red Cloud and his Sioux warriors.

Before guitar practice there was time for a little bit of the Central Europe trip and then I absorbed myself in music. And I didn’t really enjoy it al that much tonight. My heart wasn’t in it for some reason and I couldn’t really get going.

Tea was taco rolls and rice and veg, followed by some of my jam roly-poly and coconut dessert.

Tomorrow is going to be a Welsh revision day, I reckon, ready for the restart of my courses. I’m becoming far too rusty. I could do with an early night but I’m not going to get it today, that’s for sure. It’s late so I’m going straight to be. And I’m hoping to have pleasant dreams despite my new evening medicine which somehow has the effect of tranquilising me.

Saturday 1st September 2018 – IT WAS HARD THIS MORNING …

… to haul myself out of the stinking pit. But then, what do you expect at 04:00 in the morning? at least I beat the morning chorus of the air-conditioning and the fridge compressor.

But having made my butties and packed my bags last night, a quick wash and a few other things and I was ready for the road.

I hadn’t gone more than 100 yards when I was totally drenched in one of these sudden storms for which Montreal is famous. But it went just as quickly as it came so it wasn’t too much of a problem.

And it’s a good job that I was early at the bus stop. The advertised time of departure is 04:54 but at 04:54 we were already half-way down the Boulevard Rene-Levèsque, doubtless to the annoyance of a few people, I should imagine.

The airport was the usual Dorval chaos. As Alvin Tofler predicted 40 years ago in his classic book “The Third Wave”, it’s all self-check-in stuff now. The passengers don’t have a clue half the time as to what they might be doing, and it’s all very well for the staff to tirer la tronchewhen the labels are stuck on the suitcases incorrectly or something like that, but what do they expect?

While “security” might ordinarily have been somewhat painless, I was still marked out for more personal attention – probably because they found the tube of Aloe Vera, for which I had paid a small fortune yesterday, in my backpack. They even closely examined the peak of my cap.

As I have said before … “and you’ll say again” – ed … I’d much rather take my chances with the freedom fighters than the airport “security” personnel.

They had a call for hand luggage to go into the hold, and just for a change I sent mine down, having removed the laptop and the book. I remember that I was rather overwhelmed with stuff on the journey over, and it’s only a couple of hours on the plane (said he, having forgotten about the two-hour time difference).

Today’s aeroplane is an Airbus A320-200, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a flight in one of those.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to see its serial number so I can’t tell you anything about it.

But what I can tell you is that, much to my surprise, there wasn’t a meal offered on the flight – and it was over 4.5 hours too. That was bizarre.

Plenty of coffee though, so I fuelled up on a couple of occasions. And being stuck in the middle of a row (no aisle seats available yet again) I had to disturb this rather nice Oriental girl sitting next to me.

But as for the hotel itself, I’ve never ever seen anything like it. It even puts the one in Tunisia to shame.

The staff are overwhelmingly polite to the point of being obsequious and I found that very disagreeable.

But there’s absolutely everything that you could want here, even down to an electric iron and a shoe polishing kit.

I’m right at the top, on the 8th floor to be precise.

And on the side that has a beautiful view right over the terminal building and the runway too. I could sit and watch the planes come in to land all day, but I have plenty of thigs to do;

Like reorganise my luggage.

But first things first.

With there being no food on the aeroplane I need to organise some lunch, and one of the advantages of having a good internet connection is that these days one can call up a map of the area to see what’s about.

And just about one kilometre away across the car park is a Subway sandwich bar.

These days they offer falafel so I braved the biting wind and went over there for a falafel and salad butty. And it was hard work trying to persuade the rather elderly “sandwich artiste” to make me what I wanted instead of what she wanted to sell me.

But when I finally received it, it was very nice. And with it being this week’s special offer too, it was very realistically-priced.

The walk back through the car park was very interesting indeed, and for a whole variety of reasons too.

Do you remember all those years ago when we first started to come regularly to Canada and we saw these electric plugs dangling out of the engine compartments?

We decided that they were engine block heaters and, sure enough, here on the car park at Edmonton Airport are the sockets in which to plug them in winter.

No what about this car?

This is one that I’ve never seen before, and yet it looks kind of familiar, doesn’t it?

It’s actually a third-generation Nissan Quest, made between 2004 and 2009 and in my opinion it bears more than just a passing resemblance to the Dodge Grand Caravans that we used to have in the good old days before Strider, doesn’t it?

And here’s something else that we Europeans won’t ever have seen.

It’s a Genesis, and in case you are wondering what that might be, it’s really a Hyundai but quite a luxury one.

With the Hyundai name being usually associated with more plebeian vehicles, it was felt that offering a luxury car under that name was not such a good idea – hence the branding exercise.

I went for a walk around the terminal building.

I was intrigued by the fact that, for the domestic flights at any rate, the baggage carousels decanted themselves right into the middle of the Arrivals terminal.

That’s not such a good security idea in my opinion – anyone could grab your suitcase and walk off with it without any check whatsoever.

Another good advantage of having a decent internet connection is that you can watch the football. In the Welsh Premier League today, the televised match was Cefn Druid v Llandudno and I managed to catch the second half.

Llandudno had most of the play but weren’t as well-organised as the Druids, and the 2-1 scoreline in favour of the latter was about right.

But judging by the style and quality of the play, it’s clear to see why these two clubs are at the wrong end of the table.

I had a shower and a wash of the clothes that I had been wearing, and then I had to go to a meeting to discuss our future.

There were 170 of us in this little room all told, including The Vanilla Queen – a nice young girl whom I had noticed on the aeroplane coming up here. The presenter of this meeting gave us all some very bad news.

Not the news that I was hoping to hear, I have to say, but it can’t be helped. No-one can legislate for the weather at all and you get what you are given and like it.

As a result, all of our plans have now changed and I am really disappointed. And what didn’t help was missing my aim and biting a huge chunk out of my lower lip. It’s swollen up like nobody’s business right now.

But there’s always a bright side to everything. I had a long chat with she named The Vanilla Queen. She’s a hairdresser, so it seems, and lives on Baffin Island. And she’ll be on my aeroplane with me (and about 50 other people) at … gulp … 06:00 tomorrow morning.

And so yet another early start. I’m going to bed.:!!

Wednesday 25th April 2018 – I DON’T KNOW …

… whose silly idea this was but a flight at 06:15 in the morning should have given me a clue.

And so it was with a really heavy heart that I hauled myself out of my stinking pit at … errr … 02:00 following the cacophony of alarms and people knocking at the door.

But still I’d had plenty of time to go off on a journey during the night.

I was living in a village with a group of North Africans and the old lady of the village who had been wandering around came to see me in the house where I was living and then wandered away. In this village were two cows and they were both having some kind of psychological issues so I had to go to see an animal psychiatrist to make an appointment for one of them. So we had a little chat about this cow and then I decided that I would go home. But this cow decided that it would follow me and I don’t get on very well with large animals as regular readers of this rubbish will recall so I was rather put out by this. I had to dash home, reach the safety of the inside, lock the door and then park up a revolving door so that entry would be impossible but I could still get in and out of the house – something that was very complicated. And I had to do it pretty quickly too as I didn’t want to have a confrontation with this cow. But as I was trying to arrange the revolving door all of the villagers turned up. They had heard somehow that the old lady had been here and they wanted to come in to talk to her. But of course she wasn’t here, and I was wondering how I could tell them without arousing their anger or suspicions because I could see that although they looked reasonably good-natured, the wrong kind of word in the wrong kind of place could really upset them and we could have an “incident” here. It was all starting to become rather worrying.

The bus was due to leave at 02:41 so I had reckoned on it being here round about 03:15, so no-one was more surprised than me to find it outside the hotel when I hit the foyer at 02:15. Any chance of picking up some food at the all-night bar at the side of the pool promptly evaporated.

We were crammed like sardines into the bus – not a spare seat anywhere – and it took a mere 40 minutes to reach the airport on the way back. We must have come to the hotel via the scenic route.

Just by way of a change, I was one of the first to check in and was thus rewarded with an aisle seat. And passing security was something else. Bells and buzzers going off like nobody’s business but no-one seemed to care at all. That’s what I call a “progressive” attitude.

Take-off was timed for 06:15 but by that time we were probably already 500 feet off the ground. The plane was up there with us too and I for one am not at all used to this idea of people being early – especially in countries that are much more laid-back and in which time is of lesser importance than elsewhere.

We were in another elderly Airbus A320 that had Spanish signs plastered all over it, presumably from a previous employment, and which could have done with a really good clean, especially in the bathroom, of which only two out of three were working.

I had another seat up at the front against the aisle which was just as well because these Nouvelair jets are all rather like sardine tins and we are crammed in tightly. But then, as I have said before, it’s not as if we are going across the Atlantic on it, and the lack of comfort is adequately reflected in the lack of price.

We were served a breakfast – of an omelette and there was once more no vegan option despite my having requested one. But that’s not new, is it? What is new though is that I had missed my opportunity to stock up on stuff from the all-night restaurant.

At Brussels Airport I was first off the aeroplane, and by a long way too. And first at the baggage carousel too. Even more surprisingly I was down in the bowels of the station just as a train to the city was about to leave, so I hopped aboard.

But it was all to no avail because it pulled into Bruxelles-Midi at 11:15, just two minutes after the TGV that I usually catch had pulled out. And there was a wait of an hour and a half for the next one. I must say that I hadn’t expected to be on the 11:13 at all, but it was such a disappointment to be so near and yet so far.

At least it gave me enough time to go to the supermarket for a baguette for lunch and to pick up some of the nice raisin buns that they have. Remember that I had had no breakfast and I’d already been on the go for … errr … nine hours.

The TGV was pretty full and I seemed to have been given a seat next to the person who had all of the luggage. And he was most upset about having to move it, and even more upset when I told him where to stick it.

Not too many people these days seem to know how to use the luggage racks in the train.

You’re probably wondering what the yellow box is in the foreground of this photo.

There are several of them scattered about all over the SNCF railway stations in France. They are called composteurs and you stick your ticket in there to composter it before you board the train.

What the machine does is to insert a time and date stamp on your ticket so that you can’t claim a refund on it as “unused” at a later date. And it’s an offence to travel on the SNCF with an uncomposted ticket.

There’s always an announcement as the train is pulling out of the station to the effect that “if you have forgotten to composter your ticket, please see the conductor immediately”. He’ll growl at you and stamp it by hand, but he’ll do much more than growl at you if he catches you before you catch him.

I didn’t get much of a sleep on board the train, and that was a disappointment. I’ll probably catch up with it later but at a most inconvenient time, I suppose.

Travelling through Paris was pretty straightforward. Line 5 to the Gare de l’Est and then Line 4 down to Montparnasse. But it’s a nightmare trying to get to the ticket office in the station there but it’s even worse just now because they are carrying out renovations there and building a commercial centre.

And the queue for tickets! It took ages to work our way down it to the front – and to find that the next train is the 16:43. There was an earlier way to get to Granville, going on the TGV to Rennes and then on the train to Caen but leaving at some tiny wayside station and catching the bus. But that’s like going in a big letter “Z” and costs a fortune, not to mention all of the effort.

So I went down to the platform for my train and made my butties instead, fighting off the pigeons.

The train that we should have caught is the “return” from Argentan but that was running 50 minutes late so they prepared an idle multiple-unit standing in a vacant platform. Even so, we were still 20 minutes late leaving. And as it was a 6-car unit instead of a 12-car unit we were crammed in there like sardines too.

As the train emptied out I finally managed to doze off. But not for long though – only about 10 minutes I reckon.

I can see that I shall be paying for all of my efforts in due course

We arrived back at Granville bang on time – the driver must have done well to catch up the missing 20 minutes along the way. But it was a long, sad, weary way back home dragging my suitcase behind me up the hill and with the pain in my legs.

It’s good to be back home, as Barry Hay once famously sang, but I would much rather be in Tunisia. It took me a couple of hours to sort myself out and then I made some tea out of a tin.

But what an effort? What a surprise? Who would have ever thought that I would have made it to the desert?

They say that the best things come as a complete surprise and this is certainly true.

I’m now off to bed. With no alarm call either. Just watch me wke up at 05:00 tomorrow morning.

Wednesday 18th April 2018 – AND AN EARLY START …

… it was in the morning too.

never mind the alarm at 05:20 – I was wide-awake at 04:00. That is, of course, quite another thing from saying that I was out of bed at that time but at least it’s a relief to know that my body clock seems to be working when it has to.

I made my breakfast – a half-baguette with jam – and packed it in my rucksack for the journey along with the butties that I made afterwards.

By 06:00 i was ready to go and a brisk walk through the not-so-deserted streets (it seemed as if the whole town was heading to the railway station right now) brought me there in such good time that the previous train was still in the station. And so I leapt aboard.

It was quite empty when it left but by the time that it had stopped at Brugge and Gent St Pieters it was standing room only throughout the whole length of the train. Early rush hour of course and everyone was off to work.

But my early arrival had availed me nothing because there was no earlier train to the airport.

“Airport???” I hear you say. “What it all of this?”

Well, we’re having a change of plan and instead of leaping aboard the next available TGV to go home, I’m going on a little voyage. I didn’t mention that when I was in Leuven buying my shorts, something in a shop window across the road had caught my eye.

And so to the airport. I arrived in plenty of time, checked in, had a totally painless passage through security – and much as Ihave criticised the mentality of Belgian officialdom in the past, it’s only right that I say chapeau and wish that Canadian and USA border staff would take a leaf out of their book – and walked the endless miles of corridor to my departure gate.

And then walked half the way back because there was a gate change.

I’d been very lucky checking in. I used the old “bad leg” ploy (actually, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I do have issues with my leg) and was given an aisle seat, which was just as well because the plane was packed out with not a free seat anywhere. I had literally had the last ticket on the flight – as the Travel Agent had said.

And it was the oldest Airbus A320 I’ve ever been on. Piloted by Orville and Wilbur Wright, I had to move Amelia Earhart’s sandwiches off my seat before I could sit down.

And once we had settled down and taken off we all had to unsettle ourselves to search for documents papers and pens to fill in the applications for Visas. Why then couldn’t issue those with your boarding cards so that you could fill them out while waiting for the aeroplane to arrive is totally beyond me.

It was just as well that I had made my butties. I know that there’s a meal organised on the aeroplane but regular readers of this rubbish will recall that past experience has taught me never to rely on airline and tour companies to provide what I order. And so when I found out – just as I had expected – that there was no vegan meal on the plane for me, I didn’t worry.

The plane itself wasn’t that comfortable. We were crammed in like sardines but that didn’t worry me too much either. It’s a cheap tour package operator’s runabout and we weren’t going all that far anyway.

Two and a half hours later, we touched down. At Enfidha–Hammamet International Airport which, for the benefit of those of you who studied something other than geography, is in North Africa. Tunisia to be precise;

I’d seen a bargain last-minute offer to fly out to a holiday resort for a week in Sqanes on the Tunisian coast between Sousse and Monastir. All-inclusive, even down to the transport from the airport. Large air-conditioned room, balcony and sea view leaving, as you know, 5 days after I saw it and after a considerable amount of intense negotiations, knocked down to Yours Truly for all of €400.

And here I was. First off the plane, first through customs and immigration and sitting on a bench eating my butties waiting for the baggage.

I’d been saying for a while that the weather in Europe had been depressing all winter and how I wanted to go to the desert. Well, this was the best that I could do at short notice.

And while the weather in Western Europe had improved this last while, it seemed as if I had brought the bad weathe rover here with me.

There we were, loading ourselves up into the tour buses on the edge of the desert and in the background was this dirty black cloud hovering about quite ominously.

And, sad as it is to say it, we hadn’t driven more than a mile or two before it started to rain.

Yes, here in North Africa, in April on the edge of the desert, and it is raining. You couldn’t make up a story quite like that, could you? But then, I suppose that with knowing the way that things work out when I’m around you would have bet the mortgage on it.

Local farmers will be paying me a fortune to keep on coming back to the country, whereas the local Tourist Board will be denying me admisssion

Onto the motorway where tractors, bicycles and carts drawn by horses are prohibited.

But not herds of sheep and goats, so it seems. We would regularly pass a herd of sheep and/or goats, complete with shepherd and/or goatherd, on the hard shoulder nibbling away at what passes for greenery around here.

That’s the sheep and/or goats of course, not the shepherd and/or goatherd, although one never knows, of course.

In fact, it’s all very much as you might imagine that it would have been back in Biblical days.

Even the motor vehicles. And yes, they did have cars, and even motorcycles back in Biblical days.

Everyone knows that it clearly states in the Bible that the sound of Joshua’s Triumph was heard throughout the land, and later in the New Testament we read that the disciples were all in one Accord.

Sousse has always been one of the towns that I have wanted to visit, and for no other reason than the fact that I had actually heard about the place.

Unfortunately we didn’t get to go through the city itself, but round the outskirts where we were driven past the big University here.

But no matter. I’m sure that I can work out a way of going for a day out in the city once I get my bearings about the place

I’m not sure what I was expecting for a hotel. I know that, at the price that I paid, I wasn’t expecting all that much. And so my flabber has never been so gasted as it was when I saw it.

Firstly, it’s a gated compound and there are security guards who patrol the gate and the fences. But when you go inside you can see why.

It’s the holiday village to end all holiday villages and really must have been something quite impressive when it was built because today, even though it’s looking rather tired around the edges, it’s by far and away the best hotel in which I have ever stayed.

We were treated to a little cabaret by the … err … “Enjoyment Team” when we arrived and that, I’m afraid, got me off on the wrong foot.

I’m the wrong person to come on one of these tours because with having worked in the tourist industry for as long as I did, I’m immensely cynical about this kind of thing. I just wanted to get to my room.

And when I did, well, what can I say?

I can have a dance in my bedroom it’s so big. A family of 6 could sleep in the bed and it’s all a kind of five-star luxury even if it is a little worn in the corners.

And there really is a balcony, and there really is a sea view – and a proper sea view at that too, just as I had been promised. None of your craning your neck around a corner and leaning out dangerously, like you would get in many other hotels.

I threw open the windows really wide and let the sea air blow in around the room for quite some considerable time.

And then I … errr … had a little relax. It’s been a long day so far

Once I’d rejoined the Land of the Living I could go for another good look out of my window.

And it seems as if the sea isn’t the only attraction here either. There’s a whole series of swimming pools and I can see three of them – two just down there and one under cover that you can’t see – from my window.

Mind you, it’ll need to be warmer than this before I’m enticed into the pool. I can’t believe my bad luck with the weather.

We came through Sousse on the way here, but we are actually in a town called Sqanes, which is on the outskirts of the city of Monastir.

That’s Monastir, right down there. And although it’s quite an interesting city, the seaport isn’t up to all that much.

And it’s for that reason that if I have the chance, I’ll be heading to Sousse for a day trip. The port there is one of the largest in Tunisia with a busy railway freight line into the desert.

That should provide some good opportunities.

The production of oil is a big thing in North Africa and Tunisia has some at its disposal.

And in the days of a tight economy, exploration has expanded and underneath the sea has been targeted as a likely source – hence the oil rig that I can see from my window.

It’s quite a way out from the shore, but it’s amazing what you can do with a decent telephoto lens and a good graphics program.

Tea tonight – and every night – is a buffet. You can help yourself. And it’s rather light on the vegan options unfortunately but a plate of wild rice and vegetables cooked with garlic, and a helping of beans from the salad tray followed by a real and proper fruit salad and I will settle for that.

So now I’m going to have an early night. Only 56% on the fitbit but I’m not too bothered about that. I’m exhausted after everything today and an early night will do me good.

Tomorrow it’s the beach!

Wednesday 29th September 2010 part II – WELL, HERE I AM.

In a motel on the edge of the town of Kitchener in Ontario. $62 plus taxes and you don’t get much for your money.

But having been into the city, tried unsuccessfully to withdraw cash at three banks with three different bank cards and missing my way back to the motorway, I was ready for a good sleep. Mainly because I hadn’t had one on the plane.

Some blasted infant started to scream the moment the plane took off from Zurich and didn’t stop until we landed at Toronto. And at one time it was screaming so much that it gave itself a nosebleed. I was thoroughly fed up with that.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been up, showered, dressed and breakfasted before 08:00 – I’ll tell you that. And up before the alarm as well. Well, breakfasted after a fashion with the rest of the biscuits from my bag – and no coffee either. With the prices that they were charging I’d need a mortgage for that.

And on the airport shuttle bus some American got on board with two of the biggest suitcases I had ever seen, even bigger than mine – while his wife stood and watched him. I couldn’t resist it –
“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to buy the kids a ticket?” I asked him.

And as the bus pulled in to Charles de Gaulle Terminal 2 his wife stood and watched as he struggled one of the suitcases off. And he had to hurry to take the second one off before the bus pulled off to the next terminal. If she had been my wife she would have had a smack in the mouth by now. It wasn’t so much the standing and watching that did it for me – she may well have been disabled or something, you can never tell, but it was the way that she was harassing him while he was trying to do it.

Once inside the airport we are subjected to what can only be called "Skyway Robbery". I’d already lost some dosh in a vending machine at the entrance and it took me ages of wandering around the concourse before I found some nice friendly woman with a coffee trolley who sold me a nice cup of hot steaming strong coffee for a very respectable €1:70. Yes, it can be done, but you need to persevere.

The final words that I gave to Strawberry Moose
before we parted were
“Are you going to be all right, stowed away in the suitcase?”
“Just bung me a bottle of whisky” he said “and I’ll be absolutely fine”
“Badger off!” I exclaimed. “I know you! We won’t be halfway across the Atlantic before you start singing bawdy songs”
“Once we’are halfway over the Atlantic it won’t really matter. They aren’t going to stop in mid-air to search the baggage now, are they?”

He did ask me though if we were flying by Lear Jet but I did explain that it’s spelt L-E-A-R.And in any case, it was a nice, comfortable Airbus 320 that took us over to Zurich.

My only complaint was that there was nothing for me to eat. somehow my request for a vegan meal doesn’t apply to snacks served on short-haul flights.

They said that out plane from Zurich to Toronto was a Boeing 777. Mnd you, it looked more like a 767 to me but I suppose that they ought to know.

And as we flew over Greenland I had my vegan meal. Couscous and roasted vegetables. Not as nice as Liz’s but then again, nothing is.

But you missed all of the excitement. When we were at about 20,000 feet we had the safety announcement. And one of the things that they said was “if you are sitting by an emergency door you must be able to open it”. And I didn’t see the point of that – they didn’t half yell at me when I tried.

As well as that, we had another exciting incident. I always understood that there had to be a good vertical and horizontal clearance between two planes on the same course ever since those two airliners collided over the Grand Canyon years ago.

But there’s not much in the way of separation between us and this Thomas Cook flight that we overtook in mid-Atlantic.

But that’s enough of that. I remained inconspicuous for the rest of the flight with my head down. And at least the skriking infant drowned out the bawdy songs coming from the hold.

We made it in one piece as far as Toronto where the screaming brat finally shut up. I’d made the most of the journey by watching a couple of Hopalong Cassidy films and the new Robin Hood. At least the headphones kept out the screaming.

And the queue into the country was miles long. Half a dozen flights from Europe had come in at the same time as, as usual, the airport wasn’t prepared for them

But good fortune followed me to the car hire place.

They didn’t have a compact car so they offered me an upgrade. After much negotiation we settled on a Chrysler PT Cruiser. Ive always loved these vehicles, ever since they first came out. They reminded me very much of the Ford Anglias and Prefects that my father had when we were kids. And it’s been a lifetime ambition to drive on. So I was more-than-happy with this.

And so in my Chrysler PT Cruiser which I have named Casey (check his numberplate) Strawberry Moose and I head off into the sunset – going west you might well say, along the motorway in the general direction of Windsor, Ontario.

I’m looking for a cash point and then I’ll be looking for a motel. I won’t be doing all of the trip tonight. I’m thoroughly exhausted after the events of today.

-1

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality