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Recent Articles
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St Albans - history on my doorstep
My intention had been to pop into St Albans to do some shopping in the weekly market and started with the stalls at the far end of St Peters Street. The variety of stalls was amazing ...
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Ski Happy
I have just returned from the perfect ski holiday. What made it perfect? The sun shone every day but one, the snow was good, the slopes carved their way through spectacular scenery and our hotel ticked all my comfort and cuisine boxes...
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Bleeping Cameras and Blinking Batteries
Our jeep rolled to a stop and our driver lifted a finger to his lips. We all craned forward anxious to see what he had spotted. In the clearing ahead of us dappled by the rays from an early morning sun a group of wild boar stared at us ...
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Chester
“Go ahead, stroke it”. I looked suspiciously at the brick wall beside me and wondered why I would want to touch it. Abbey encouraged me again so I peeled off my glove and ran a tentative finger-tip across the rough surface. But it was not rough it was soft and furry ...
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A Day Out at Corfe Castle Village
I started my journey to the village on the open top deck of the number 50 Purbeck Breezer that runs from Bournemouth to Swanage via the chain ferry that links the Sandbanks sand spit to the Studland Peninsula.
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Enigma and Bletchley Park
I knew Enigma was a book as I had an unread copy in my book case and also a film that I had not seen ...
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Ticket to Ride Swanage Railway
I was enticed into the train station at Swanage by the aroma of grilling bacon and the thought of a bacon buttie.
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Finding Ernö - in the East End of London
I started my quest in typical East End fashion – pie and mash at Maureen’s pie and mash café in the Chrisp Street Market in Poplar. When asked if I would like gravy or liquor I declined the latter thinking that noon was too early to start drinking.
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All in a Day’s Work as a Holiday Rep: A Barricade in Desenzano
I rounded the corner and stopped, astonished at the sight in front of me. Fluttering flags and hand-written placards blocked the entrance to my hotel. I wondered if I had stumbled upon a very local festival, Italians love their festivals, but already I suspected something more sinister. It had…
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A Week in Madonna di Campiglio
Many years ago the valley that is now occupied by the prosperous resort of Madonna di Campiglio in Trentino, Italy was a poor, infertile, rock strewn region. Its only resource was timber from the large forests and woods that clothed the slopes of the mountains. The only people attracted to the…
