The Grand Tour 2.5: Episode 6 Nerve Agents, Farmers, Druids, Pirates, Monkeys!!! I love Cornwall

Aaaaggghhhhh ‘em be pirates, ‘em be!!!

Let’s get my allegiances out of the way first, I love Cornwall. Ticks a few of my boxes:

• ·         Family history
• ·         Hopeless underdog fight for independence (as evidenced by the Cornish Flag being flown everywhere)
• ·         Celtic
• ·         Essentially dead language trying to be revived
• ·         Stunning fishing villages
• ·         Best weather in the UK
• ·         Hilarious accent (that don’t pat dogs, they “smoooooooth ‘em”
• ·         Pirates!

What could you possibly not like?

Well, there is one downside, the clowns voted for Brexit! Go figure.

To get to the ancestral homeland we had to go via a clump of rocks, otherwise known as Stone Henge. We hired a car again (this time at a reasonable hour and in a reasonable direction from Shepherds Bush, we’d done this one before) and headed towards Novichok.

Wait, what?

Turns out we were headed straight to the town where 2 poor souls either had just been poisoned by one of the deadliest nerve agents in existence. We were a bit confused as we drove into Amesbury why there were all these streets were blocked off by the coppers but thought nothing of it until the next day when it was all over the news. Sadly one of the people has subsequently died. I blame Trump’s best mate.

We didn’t know anything of this as we arrived at the big, old pile of rocks. We thought the visitor centre was pretty big 15 years ago when we came before kids but now it is a small town. Extraordinary. And not one druid to be seen. Though clearly there were quite a few who were itching to get the robes on. They’ve changed it now so the centre is about a 1km walk from the rubble and you can either catch a minibus or walk up over the hill to come to them. We walked. Much like puppies, TGT2.5:3-5 need regular exercise. If not, then they tend to start to eat each other. This has been a not infrequent experience on this trip. If we could hose them down we would.

It was a very pleasant way to approach the boulders and I had forgotten that they were only handed over to the government 100 years ago and in that time they had been propped up with a few squirts of concrete to stop some of them toppling over, I’m sure much to the horror of conservationists now as they were a bit cumbersome about it. This is the sort of Pareto Rule approach I probably would have taken which is why it’s a good thing I don’t look after historical objects. So after we got the kids to put their robes on and sacrificed a goat at sunset on the high altar we headed back to the car for we had an appointment at Monkey World we weren’t going to miss: TGT2.5:3 was going to find a new friend but first a quick visit to another old thing, the Magna Carta, inside another old thing, Salisbury Cathedral.

TGT2.5:3: “Do we have to go in ANOTHER cathedral?!??!? I really don’t want to. I’m NOT a Christian”

TGT2.5:1-2: “Yes we do. We know you’re not a Christian but please try to show some appreciation of the architecture, cultural heritage BLAH BLAH BLAH”

Yet another parent fail.

Since when do 13-year-olds appreciate this stuff? Just shut up kid and move on. We had lunch in the grounds of the cathedral but didn’t have a knife to cut our tomatoes or cheese for our sandwiches. That meant I had to nick one from the cathedral café. Does that mean I’m going to hell? Probably just confirmation.

Monkey World isn’t a zoo as such, it’s a rescue centre for primates from all over the world as Far away as Chile (the military helped evacuate about 30 monkeys from a lab to the UK). They pretty much take any and help give their lives back. To our astonishment, it is legal to buy and own a squirrel and capuchin monkeys and people do on eBay here in the UK. They chuck them in a cage and watch them go absolutely loony. There were lots of ex-laboratory monkeys with a few remnant twitches and OCD behaviours which isn’t surprising when you spend the first half of your life in a metal cage with humans poking you. Not surprisingly a lot of these guys have a fairly dim view of humans, but amazingly lots of hearts of gold and develop really warm relationships with the staff. A few chimpanzees have been like that. There used to be lots of chimps in Spain being used as props for photo shoots and being “managed” with sticks and cigarette burns. It took them 20 years but Monkey World has prevented chimpanzees being treated like this in Spain anymore.

TGT2.5:3 did make a few furry friends. There was one chimp who was banging away at his drums in a way eerily similar to the way TGT2.5:3 does and yet again, he staggered us with his extraordinary knowledge of all things animal in a non-smart alec way. Remarkable.

Our guide offered him a job!!!!

After that, it was time to head to Swanage (exactly! Where?), to camp in some farmer’s field. We should clarify, grumpy farmer’s field. A practically empty field about 3 acres in size but he wanted to move us as we put up our tents next to the powered sites (which were empty and we hadn’t hooked up). Almost Monty Pythonesque in his approach: “This isn’t an argument!!!”

I have made it a policy to be extremely accommodating and friendly on this trip and it has been met with a similar response from all we have encountered. Except for this time! Man, I wanted to smash this old git. Thankfully TGT2.5:2 instantly picked up my raised hackles and stepped in to smooth things over and pacify the octogenarian before he gave himself a heart attack. I bet he voted for Brexit too.

We didn’t move our tents.

In fact TGT2.5:2 and myself have been very good at the yin and yang stuff on this trip. Often swapping roles but overall complementing each other well and stepping in when needed to cover the other’s moment of madness. Of course, we have had a few tiffs. Mostly about buying another bottle of wine (TGT2.5:2 against)

We headed to Swanage and yet another Ship Inn (TGT2.5:2:“They must be a chain”. Ahhhhh no, they would be the West Country Coast version of The Red Lion, every town has one).

The next day we headed to Lyme Regis to hunt for fossils on the Jurassic Coast (pleasingly found a few ammonites). We met one fossil hunting fella (we knew he was by his t-shirt “Keep Calm and Hunt Fossils”.) Very knowledgeable and friendly chap. He showed us the ammonites we had in our hands but didn’t know and then filled our pockets with rocks with potential other ammonites like we haven’t had issues with excess luggage before!!
Then on to Axminster to have a coffee at River Cottage Canteen. Despite my efforts HFW didn’t reply to my invitation to discuss the urban agriculture model a colleague and I published last year. Rude

Nevertheless, lovely to visit. Then on to Cornwall and the ancestral home.

A quick summary. The first Symons to come to Australia was Johnson Bennett Symons in 1866 (yes, that is why TGT2.5:3 got his name). He travelled with his missus from his home village of Tywardreath to Plymouth to catch the ship, the Salamanca, from Plymouth to South Australia. Wallaroo, in Little Cornwall, to be precise, to continue his copper mining ways. My mother’s side, Hosking, are also Cornish folk, so whenever I cross the Tamar to enter the Land of St Piran, I feel a bit like I’m coming home.

There were other ancestors who came from other parts of ole blighty, including the 2 convicts, but the Cornish folk are the ones who resonate. There was even one who was a coast guard who died at sea chasing pirates apparently. Aaaaggghhhh, me hearties.

We camped at Carlyon Bay Caravan Park near St Austell and near the surprising Charlestown. I’d never heard of it, but it has featured heavily in various period dramas and in Poldark especially. A truly remarkable old stone harbour and really, really charming.

We then headed out to the Eden Project which is several hug geodesic domes with different ecosystems in each one. Perhaps an option for the La Trobe valley?  A beautiful place with amazing plants and conservation ideas and TGT2.5:3-5 were quite engaged which I wasn't prepared for.

There were visits to fishing villages and ye olde pubs and all timed so that they fitted in with the World Cup matches. We watched Belgium knock out Brazil while sitting in the Smugglers Bar of the Fountain Inn (400 years old) in Mevagissey. Old oak beams and plaster walls where I had to duck my head to get in the door. (Well mostly remembered to duck. I have this issue about the size of my head.) I thought the poms would like to see Brazil get knocked out but apparently not.

We ended up in Tywardreath (no idea how to pronounce it despite my obvious Cornishness) and wandered around the cemetery looking for the graves of Symons. It was also where TGT2.5:2 and I had been 15 years before where TGT2.5:2 picked up a tent someone had left behind in the graveyard which I think we are still using. I felt a bit dodgy about it then and still do to this day. Odd woman, TGT2.5:2, very moral and upstanding citizen nearly all of the time and then BAM, batshit crazy stealing stuff. Weird. Anyhoo, we then had a drink in The New Inn (1751 and chatted with the owner who was a local lad and showed us photos from the 1860s with lots of Symons and Bennetts (was JBS’s mother’s maiden name). We were getting a bit carried away and next thing I knew TGT2.5:2 and TGT2.5:4 were jumping the fence of St Blazey Church like hoodlums looking for more gravestones.

So after a wonderful few days we had done most of the things we wanted to do except TGT2.5:2’s extreme desire to have some quality clotted cream. For that we had to journey to a remote tea room down a side road of a side road of a side road beside a stream in an apple orchard. Truth be told it was pretty delightful and worth the detour but it was a race against time and London traffic to rush back to Shepherds Bush in time to watch England and Sweden. The less said about that the better.

However getting back in time we had to zoom along the motorways. In England they absolutely effing fang. Not quite used to that and it’s like a racetrack out there. Never changed lanes so many times in my life. Back to London for a couple of days staying with my old boss Rani, in Tufnell Park. More soon.

The Grand Tour 2.5: Episode 5 Scotland: JK Rowling flies Ryanair

Edinburgh

One of the surprising things about flying with Ryanair is coming to the realisation that you have actually decided to fly with them given the numerous human rights abuses they come up with every flight, eg approximately 2cm³ of space, instant coffee £4! And recently bleeding ears apparently!??!?!

So it was all the more surprising to discover JK Rowling sitting beside TGT2.5:2 as we were taking off. Mind you I wasn’t completely convinced until she started talking about having lived in Edinburgh, coming from Spain, visiting her only daughter etc etc. TGT2.5:2 was clearly on to it as well and was buttering up JK for an autograph, possibly a place to stay and definitely a few spare million quid.

Turns out it wasn’t JK Rowling……. I think.

Tell you what though, the Ryanair pilots must have to develop a sense of humour though:

“Good afternoon everyone, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to Edinburgh. You may now disembark from both the front and back doors of the plane, and remember to walk around the wing, NOT UNDER the wing. That’s AROUND the wing, NOT UNDER the wing”.

I wonder how many times that’s happened that the pilot feels he needs to say it?

“Oh Charles, I really have to get another job, some buffoon backpacker has just walked into the jet engine again”

The flight was uneventful enough though TGT2.5:3-5 did struggle with the lack of touch screens in front of them. They were seen forlornly swiping the Safety sign on the back of the plastic headrest in front of them.

We were heading to visit our friends Brett and Erica and their daughter Tilly. Brett also goes by the name Zorgatron, Destroyer of Cats, a misquoted Larson cartoon reference. Zorg and I were at Melb Uni together and are now part of a 3 person intercontinental footy tipping competition modestly called the “Sports Lord Series” which has been going since 1997, interrupted for only one year for TGT1. I have won several times but am going through a Carlton period at the moment. It’s worth preserving though as the trophy is a brick stolen from the old Southern Stand at the MCG as it was being demolished in the 1990s.

Zorg and Erica have bought themselves an extremely nice place in Morningside a few kms to the south of the old town. Zorg and Erica have excelled themselves in the garden too, putting in some decking, a shed and some raised garden beds in such an incredibly professional manner at their first attempt that I presumed it was work done by tradies. Chapeau Zorg chapeau.

Edinburgh really is an extremely pleasant place. We had a walk up the hill behind their house which backs on to and looked out over one of the curiously large number of golf courses in Edinburgh. They seem to like golf in Scotland. Stunning views. Apparently, some golf courses let you take the kids sledding on their courses when it snows and then invite you in for a cup of hot chocolate afterwards. Extremely civilised.

We wandered into town through the Meadows in glorious sunshine and thought to ourselves, “We could live here”. Mind you this assessment was influenced by the weather which has been absurdly unseasonal. We had to put sunscreen on, IN SCOTLAND! That ain’t right. In fact, the weather for the entire trip so far has been unnervingly warm and dry. For the moment I’m not thinking about it.

As TGT2.5:5 has repeatedly explained to me the central importance of Harry Potter to all things in the universe and because JK Rowling (the real JK Rowling) was living in Edinburgh when she wrote most of the books and got a lot of inspiration from Edinburgh, we had to go on a Harry Potter Walk.

We wandered down to the designated meeting place but found it hard to find room on the footpath due to a large number of people milling about. Surely these couple of hundred people weren’t waiting for the Harry Potter tour? Turns out they were. We spent the next couple of hours visiting various place of inspiration and the coffee shop where she did her scribbling. TGT2.5:4 and TGT2.5:5 wormed their way forward and stood beside the guide for the entire one and a half hours.

We visited the real Tom Riddell’s grave in a local cemetery and we got a photo of TGT2.5:4 and TGT2.5:5 standing beside the grave with TGT2.5:5 doing her special Voldemort’s nose trick. As we wandered down through the cemetery Edinburgh castle loomed up above us with the near vertical stands that are temporarily constructed for the Edinburgh Tattoo. TGT2.5:5 said half to herself, half to the tour guide, “that looks like a Quidditch stadium”. Turns out TGT2.5:5 thinks like JK Rowling as that was where she got inspiration for the Quidditch stadium. We visited the curved street that leads down to the Grassmarket which was the inspiration for Diagon Alley and even cast a spell en masse with the handed out wands to change the traffic lights from red to green. Excellent stuff.

It was all round a pretty fun tour and TGT2.5:4, 5 were most pleased. Even TGT2.5:3 got into a bit after he got past calling it “cringe”. Only a bit though, he is nearly 14 after all. We also had coffee in JK Rowling’s brother in law’s café (where she wrote the Philosopher’s Stone”). Brett and Erica, being locals, were a bit surprised by the level of Harry Potter bits and bobs in Edinburgh. More of a tourist thing I suppose.

After the tour TGT2.5:2 found a family history office in Diagon Alley and she subsequently found out she has a few famous relatives. The poet Nan Shepherd was a cousin of some sort (currently appearing on the Scottish £5 note) and we subsequently discovered Sir Alexander Henderson Diack was also a great Uncle of some sort. In fact we found out Sir Alex had a portrait in the national portrait gallery so off we trooped to the New Town and yet another beautiful building of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. A very helpful person at the information desk informed us that yes indeed the National Portrait Gallery had Sir Alex but he was in one of their other buildings. Oh yes and which one is that? London. Ahhhh. Perhaps another time.

On the way into town one day we stopped for a late breakfast in a greasy spoon café called the “Quick and Plenty Café”. The food was, well, quick and there was plenty of it. I’ve always had a soft spot for greasy spoon cafes and this was no exception. A dying breed in London and good to see Edinburgh keeping up the good fight. We did manage to resist anything deep fried. That will have to be the next visit to Scotland.

Other excursions in Edinburgh included the Royal Mile including placing the children’s heads in the Camera Obscura box to make them look shrunk. I couldn’t tell the difference myself. Also, we ventured into the Scottish Museum which is yet another beautiful building.

We took advantage of the fact TGT2.5:3 is almost responsible and looked after TGT2.5:4, 5 and Tilly so the grownups got to go for a drink at a local pub chock full of character. The sort of place where the previous owner put up signs including “No backpackers!” Fair enough I reckon.

It was then time say our farewells to the incredibly generous Zorg, Erica and Tilly who spoiled us rotten and head north to Dundee where we could continue our couch surfing. Off to Waverley train station for a trip across the Firth of Forth. The only bummer of crossing that amazing bridge is that you can’t see the bridge because you’re essentially inside it. Anyhoo, we made it to Dundee for the first ever time and were met by Natalie, another Melb Uni friend (they really do get everywhere). Natalie and her partner Tom work at St Andrews Uni. They are the smart ones whose PhDs really are too difficult for a pleb like me to understand. The 80,000 words of my PhD could be summed with “Blah blah blah, well, maybe”, whereas theirs are much more difficult and use big words about French art and English literature and stuff. They are so clever they taught Prince William and Kate when they were at St Andrews.

They have managed to find the only modernist house in Dundee. It’s a pretty remarkable place and very distinctive. Tom’s study has possibly the largest window in all of Scotland looking out across the Firth of Tay. An extraordinary view. Sadly for them we managed to squash a few of their flowers playing soccer.

We did just a few things when in Dundee for a couple of days. We went for a lovely walk along the Tay to Broughty Beach Castle (every beach should have a castle) as well as visiting the Antarctic museum where the ship that carried Captain Scott and crew to the south has been set up on permanent display. Sadly the newly built V&A in Dundee was not quite ready to be opened but it looks pretty impressive.

It wasn’t a long enough stay with Natalie and Tom but there are so many people to see and things to do so we headed back to Edinburgh and the airport to renew ourselves with Ryanair. This time with approximately 7 hours before our flight left!!!! Ryanair did us a favour though as after we took off we swung around to get a perfect view of the Firth of Forth rail bridge. Absolutely stunning.

Planes trains and automobiles

The trip from Dundee to Shepherds Bush really should have its own separate entry but I’ll give you the abridged version. If you look at the map it’s not that far, but we had to do the following:

• ·         a lift to Dundee station from Natalie in her snazzy hybrid Toyota
• ·         train from Dundee to Edinburgh Gateway
• ·         tram from Edinburgh Gateway to Edinburgh Airport
• ·         plane from Edinburgh to Stansted (2 hours spent waiting in the terminal, we weren’t falling for that again)
• ·         train from Stansted to Liverpool St station
• ·         tube train from Liverpool St to Shepherds Bush Market station
• ·         bus from Shepherds Bush Market station to Old Oak Rd

TGT2.5:3-5 were fantastic actually, though we were pretty pooped when we arrived at our home away from home and a very happy return.

Cornwall next for a bit of Symons family history

The Grand Tour 2.5 Episode 4 Cambridge and Leicester. The Rise of Mr Catastrophist

Cambridge and Leicester

So the first thing you should know about getting from west London to Cambridge on a Friday evening is DON’T DO IT!

What the hell were we thinking? Not only did we have to get out of London, we had to get ACROSS London. OMFG! You’d think having lived in London for 3 years I’d have worked that out but we didn’t ever really drive when we lived here, and the when we did drive, it was straight out on the A4 towards the west country. Easy from Ealing. Not so much from Hammersmith to Cambridge. In fact, this slightly absurd route even had the internets in a tizz. We could almost hear Google Maps saying, “Well, if I was you, I wouldn’t start from here!”

So we proceeded to zig and zag and zig and zag our way towards Cambridge and I swear we drove down every back street in northern London. Google maps does have a pretty good idea on rat running though. Perhaps it should be renamed Google Rat Running, or in our case Google Rat Walking, because a trip I thought might take about 1 ½ hours, took 3 ½ hours.

The friend we were going to visit, Ingrid, did express incredulity that we would attempt such a feat on a Friday evening and expressed alarm when we told her the route Google Rat Walking was taking us. “You’re coming via Morocco?!?!?!?” Well, it felt like it. She wasn’t too concerned though as when we updated her on our travel, she updated us on how many gin and tonics she was having.

So the second thing you should know about going to Cambridge is, we didn’t go to Cambridge. Ingrid lives outside Cambridge in a place called Waterbeach, where curiously there is no water and no beach. That is where we eventually caught up with Ingrid and her gin and tonics. Ingrid and I used to teach at the same school in London and she during the course of our stay reminded me of some of the less than professional antics I got up to. Something about playing cricket in the corridors, using various scientific apparatus as bats, balls and stumps and making everyone speak like a pirate for the whole day, including students (I forgot there was National “Speak like a Pirate Day” which I now recall I embraced with great enthusiasm). This was at an Orthodox Jewish School mind you. You are probably not surprised that I am no longer a teacher. And given Ingrid willingly joined in the various shenanigans it’s no surprise she isn’t a teacher at that school any more either.

We had a good catch up about the various happenings in our lives in the 7 years since we last saw her. 2 young fellas, Will and Ted, similar in age to Finley and Maja were now running about the place but unfortunately Ingrid’s husband, Paul, was away for the weekend. There was the slightly unnerving prospect of having the number plates stolen on our hire car stolen which Ingrid informed me was the latest trick of some local dodgy geezers. Anyhoo we drank a wee bit too much and eventually got to bed and awoke at a relatively leisurely hour to say our farewells, not visit Cambridge at all, and head to Leicester but of course not actually visit Leicester. Instead we were on our way to visit some friends, Merrin, Tom, Toby and Henry who until recently lived in Seddon. Now they live in Woodhouse Eaves (how English is that?) just outside Leicester. Woodhouse Eaves is very picturesque in an English cottage gardeny kind of way.

We had an extremely pleasant stay in Woodhouse Eaves unfortunately punctuated by watching Germany beat Sweden in the World Cup group match in the last 10 secs at the Red Lion pub (had to be one). It was made all the more annoying when TGT2.5:2 (A SWEDE FFS!!!) said Germany deserved to win because they were the better side. If that’s the sort of absurdly sensible and fair behaviour clog wogs exhibit at football matches then I am extremely likely to be kicked out when we go to see a game in the Swedish Premier League (aka Allsvenskan).

We had an extremely lovely long walk (10km )through woodlands and avoided golf balls through the golf course to and the ancestral home of Lady Jane Grey (self-declared Queen for 9 days, didn’t end well). Not surprisingly it was in ruins. In fact this neck of the woods has seen a bit of action in terms of royalty coming a cropper. More on that in a minute

We continued the walk and it did really show the Midlands up in a very favourable light. Rolling hills, picturesque villages, twinkling streams, and then Leicester. Leicester we were informed was to be avoided at nearly all costs. So we did.

The following day we went to the Battle of Bosworth Visitors Centre where Tricky Dicky 3 and Henry Tudor in the decisive final battle of the War of the Roses. It was King Tricky Dicky who tried to stop someone’s axe with his head at the Battle of Bosworth and we went to the Visitors’ Centre conveniently located some kilometres away from the actual place where the battle took place. Apparently, someone drew a mark on a map a few centuries ago and cartographers had been copying each other’s mistakes ever since. Consequently, Heritage UK or whoever is the responsible body bought an old farmhouse on the spot on the map, only for some upstart historian to actually check the facts, do a bit of digging and metal detecting to find the proper site down in a field a few Kms away, not on a hill. Makes sense, when you think about King Tricky Dicky being stuck in a swamp yelling, “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse”. Not many swamps on top of hills, they tend to be down in the valley. Our guide on the tour at the visitors’ centre told us the historians also had the temerity to talk the locals who said their oral history said the battle site was down in the plain, not on the hill. Not too shabby considering it was about 450 years ago. Our guide got us to play different roles in our re-enactment of the battle. I was Earl of Northumberland. Pretty chuffed about that till it turned out Northumberland was a bit of a nob and couldn’t be bothered getting his troops to join the battle leading directly to a few things:

1.       Tricky Dicky was heard to yell “Treachery” aimed directly at me, ie Northumberland

2.       Tricky Dicky was consequently outnumbered and had the unfortunate run in with the aforementioned axe, though a close run thing apparently as Henry’s standard bearer right beside Henry got it in the neck

3.       Northumberland was soon killed by the locals from his home turf (ie Northumberland) because he did the dirty on Tricky Dicky

Poor choices.

Apparently hedging your bets was pretty common back then. Anyhoo, Henry Tudor won the day and Tricky Dicky’s body was left on display for 3 days (pee-eewww) in Leicester just to make sure everyone knew who lost. (Slightly more graphic than Match of the Day highlights.) Then he was buried in a car park. Well, it wasn’t a car park then. Pretty amazing they found his body recently though, especially when it meant they had to lose a few car park spaces.

On the way back we had to rush to a local village to watch the England v Panama in an English “country village on steroids”, as described by Merrin. It had the lot: Farmers market, cottage gardens, ye olde pubs, thatched roofs everywhere. Good result for the locals with the ball going in the back of the net 5 or 6 times. Then another lovely evening with Merrin, Tom, Toby and Henry and it was back to west London the following day via the Roman ruins of Veralumium in St Albans. Nice little amphitheatre. (St Albans in England is very different to the St Albans in Melbourne, not so many Roman ruins there.) Google Rat Running had regained its composure and no zig zags on the way home.

We had to get back to collect our belongings from Shepherds Bush for our trip to Scotland the following day. Now we had done another foolish thing which shows we really still haven’t got our travelling form back, we booked with Ryanair

OH GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!?!?!??!!?

What sort of madness made us do that?

We thought leaving 3 hours to get to the airport for an internal flight would give us plenty of time. What naïve fools we are.

So to get to Stansted Airport which frankly is effing miles away we were faced with:

·         The 207 bus to Shepherds Bush station

·         Central line tube to Liverpool St Station

·         Stansted Express Removal of Money from your wallet (“Sorry, how much?”)

So it started out smoothly enough. Walk to the bus stop, bus comes every few minutes. Nice. Curious choice to go via Hammersmith and City line to Liverpool St Station as it was stinking hot (even for Orstrayans) and the Central line can be an oven. So we got to Liverpool St a bit behind time and the Catastrophist in me was beginning to stir but for the moment was mostly kept in check.

After selling on the kids to pay for the Standard Express train to the airport (bad paper scissors rock to lose) we hopped on the train and headed out only for it to continually stop to have a rest. Like Thomas the Bloody Tank engine. Mr Catastrophist was stirring. Especially as, if you miss a Ryanair flight, that’s it. You have to buy another one. The 45 minute train trip took about 1 hour and 15 minutes, and combined with the long tube ride we were now in the red zone.

When we arrived at Stansted we were faced with the fact that it is a F*CKING AWFUL airport. Now we’ve travelled a lot, even on Ryanair from Stansted but that was 15 years ago and we literally had no idea where we were supposed to check in, where our bags were supposed to go. No BLOODY signs anywhere. Eventually after queueing up in the wrong line a couple of times, we made our way to the security check like cattle being taken to the abattoir. We noticed a big pile of small plastic bags but thought little of it, until of course our bags went through the scanner and they pulled apart every bag and took our every little bottle of liquid (surprising how many we had) including the ones in our toiletry bag. Apparently you are supposed to put any bottle/tube of liquid of any size in the small plastic bags. 1 plastic bag per person.

With plastic gloves on, they held up each bottle/tube/container in front of our faces:

“What’s this?

“Toothpaste”

“What about this?”

“Sunscreen”

“And this?”

“Deodorant”

Etc etc etc

What the f*ck was wrong with these people?

TICK TICK TICK

Mr Catastrophist was now in full control and I was starting to convulse.

We got through security after losing all manner of things associated with personal hygiene as well as a pocket knife (Bloody Ryanair say they put your hand luggage in the hold underneath the plane but don’t say they do that after you’ve gone through security so the collection of pocket knives was impressive).

Then we had to snake our way through 1 km of shops in an IKEA you can’t short cut to the end kind of way.

Aaaaggghhhh

Eventually we got past the shops. By now the plane was due to take off in 5 mins.

A sign said “Gate 83 this way: 8 minute walk”

“KIDS!! RUN!!!”

Mr Catastrophist was a raging beast control now, pushing little old ladies out of the way, treading on small children, yelling at passers by.

Only when Gate 83 appeared around the corner with the line still stretching out from the gate that Mr Catastrophist finally went back into his hidey hole. Thank gawd for that. Not good for anyone.

The Ryanair staff were a bit over it too and practically waved us through and we were on the plane but only after walking out on to the tarmac in a Hobart kind of way.

So we caught our flight much to my astonishment and were heading for Bonnie Scotland.

More of that later.

The Grand Tour 2.5: Episode 3 Shepherds Bush

Apologies to all of my loyal readers (both of them) for the delay in the publication of the next episode of TGT2.5 but I’ve had to do a lot of work so TGT2.5 Blog was put on the backburner.

Shepherds Bush was the next destination for TGT2.5. Very close to Loftus Rd which is the home ground of Queen’s Park Rangers (QPR) which were my brothers’ team when TGT2.5:1 was a kid and we lived in a village called Pebmarsh which is down the road from Lavenham. Lavenham you say? Lavenham also goes by the name of Godric’s Hollow. Yes, that’s right Harry Potter fans, I used to live down the road from Harry Potter’s parents. Everything, as I’m sure you’ll agree and as TGT2.5:5 continually reminds me, revolves around Harry Potter and she appears to be right.

I digress. TGT2.5:1-5 often feel like an invading army when we arrive at friends’ places to stay. There are usually only 1 or 2 people in the house and when 5 noisy Australian Clog Wogs steam through the door, I imagine it can be rather overwhelming. Arriving at Toni and her son, Baxter’s house, was no exception. In we piled and in an instant the living room was filled with bags and backpacks, wifi codes hunted down and coffee pot put on. Situation normal.

Toni has done a fabulous job of renovating her house and we have stolen many ideas from her when it comes to house design (fingers crossed renovation will happen after we return from TGT2.5, donations to that cause gratefully accepted). Toni’s house is a terrace and she has squeezed a lot in such a narrow house in a very stylish way. TGT2.5:2 worked with Toni when we lived in London 15 years ago (bloody hell where did that go?) and we’ve stayed with her previously so we were looking forward to seeing her and setting up shop in inner-ish London.

Shepherd’s Bush is a great base in London. On the Central, Hammersmith and City and Circle lines and not as Australian as I remember. That’s a good thing. Maybe that was the next suburb over, Acton. Anyhoo, it’s an amazingly cosmopolitan place and to be honest, I love it. Very busy though and perhaps a bit too busy for TGT2.5:3. He’s said that before about big cities which surprises me a bit as he is such a skateboarding fanatic I assumed he would be the ultimate urban fella. Apparently not. Loves the concrete and the steps but not the population density and also loves being in the bush.

Being so close to the centre of London let us see quite a lot of things pretty easily and we tried to be edumacational for the TGT2.5:3-5 rascals who are obviously not in school. That meant going to lots of museums. Before that though I had a meeting with an academic, Rachel Aldred, from the University of Westminster to try to set up some research partnerships. Rachel does cycling research and to be frank she’s a bit of a champion. Hopefully we’ll be making use of her research in Aus soon. She has just published some encouraging results from mini-Holland schemes in outer London. Look em up.

Before we went to the museums we went to the SkyGarden just round the corner from the Great Fire of London Monument. The SkyGarden is pretty spectacular actually. It’s at the top of a skyscraper in The City (called the Cheesegrater according to TGT2.5:5), opposite the Shard (or The Carrot (TGT2.5:5 again)), near the Gherkin (the Pickle (TGT2.5:3) or Olive (TGT2.5:5)), and the Walkie Talkie (don’t know who said that). The SkyGarden includes lots of plants inside an enormous glasshouse which you can walk all the way around. The views are pretty stunning and of course, we could make out the Tower of London all the way down near the river. It was difficult to convince the kids that for hundreds of years the Tower of London was the tallest building as it looks positively tiny now.

After the SkyGarden we wandered down to the Thames to tick off one of the things TGT2.5:2 has been very keen to do: a walk along the shore of the river at low tide looking for Roman/mediaeval artefacts. It was pretty easy to get down to the river but the bit which looked most promising for foraging involved traversing a very narrow stretch of wobbly concrete with a big chain hanging off the wall beside it. Slightly unnerving and not a great parenting moment watching as the only thing stopping your children falling into the Thames being good balance and an ancient rusty chain. We all managed to get across safely and promptly met up with another forager. She had been on a course run by the London Museum and had permission to collect items. We, on the other hand, did not. Didn’t stop these descendants of convicts!!! (One was sent down for nicking £40 of bedding and the other one nicked some candlesticks if you must know.) She was very friendly and helpful explaining all the mediaeval, Roman and various other bits and bobs we found. Fascinating. Perhaps too fascinating as by this time the tide had well and truly turned and the narrow bit of concrete with chains was even narrower and getting narrower by the minute. Still TGT2.5:2 chatted on with the Forager.

Yes, that’s a bit of a Roman roof tile.

Narrower.

That’s a bit of an Elizabethan pipe

Narrower.

That’s a bit of a mediaeval bowl

Narrower.

FFS!!!! TGT2.5:2 DO NOT DROWN YOUR CHILDREN!!!!!

Reluctantly TGT2.5:2 took heed of my protests and we headed back to the now remarkably narrow wobbly concrete and chains escape route and we made it back to safety and headed up some steps to the street. It was only at this point every member of TGT2.5 confessed to almost falling in and being washed away and would have done so if they didn’t have a good hold on the chain.

And you all thought TGT2.5:2 was the responsible one. Shame on you.

After that we decided to take the safe option and cross the river over London Bridge (despite the long and interesting history of a bridge in the location of London Bridge, the current bridge is pretty dull). So over we went in order to cross back over Tower Bridge. It wasn’t amazingly amazing but despite living in England for 3 years in London we had never been over Tower Bridge. So over we went and wandered past the Tower of London, which looked much bigger close up. We had been to the Tower when we were in London 7 years ago so we didn’t go in this time. However, we showed TGT2.5:3-4 traitors gate and hinted that a similar fate might befall them if they didn’t stop fighting. Crikey that’s been a pain. TGT2.5:3 and TGT2.5:4 could bicker for Australia. Tiresome and ridiculous.

The other museum visits included the Natural History Museum (sold to TGT2.5:3-5 as one of the scenes in the Paddington Movie) and the British Museum. Now as I’m sure all those parents among you know, attention spans of 8, 10 and 13 year olds can sometimes wilt in the face of an enormous museum so at the British Museum (wonderful central court space BTW) we grabbed the very helpful British Museum Top 10 guide and headed off to see the Rosetta Stone (TGT2.5:3 “why did they write it in those languages?”, Sutton Hoo haul TGT2.5:4 “I want that helmet”, Incan turquoise mask TGT2.5:3-5 look-alike competition, Egyptian sarcophaguses, TGT2.5:5 “Do you think we can look inside?”, Lewis Chess set TGT2.5:5 “they look like the Harry Potter chess set”, Vindolanda TGT2.5:3 “Why would you write a postcard? On wood? From there?”, Easter Island statues TGT2.5:3-5 look alike competition again.

See, we didn’t even complete the top 10.

They have moved the Diplodocus in the forecourt of the Natural History Museum and replaced it with the skeleton of a blue whale. Just as amazing as were the various other exhibits. The animatronic T-Rex was a bit roboty but still lifelike enough to put the willies in you if you thought for a few seconds about one of those chasing you. Headed up to the geology section as well and tried to recreate a few earthquakes for fun.

After that, or before, or around, different day, I don’t remember, we were in Trafalgar Square, having a coffee in St Martins in the Fields vault café (love that place), then we were heading down to the Tate Modern. We crossed the street behind Nelson’s Column and we heard a kid say:

“G’day Ben”

WTF?!?!?

Of course in a city of 8 million people, we had bumped into Austin, one of TGT2.5:3’s classmates. Austin, his sister and mother who had arrived only 4 hours earlier and were over for a holiday. We convinced them to spend the day with us and we headed off to the Tate Modern (mixed memories as TGT2.5:2 had the bike she cycled on across Asia on stolen outside the Tate Modern and good memories of Ben crawling up and down the Turbine hall as an baby). The Tate Modern is an extraordinary place, but also TGT2.5:3-5 had run out of puff and appreciation of kulcha so we quickly wandered through. It was good for TGT2.5:3 to have a bit of teenage company as obviously hanging out with his parents for such a long period of time is at times destroying his soul. So he recharged his batteries and got to say things like “Don’t even trip, dog” in the appropriate context and actually be understood.

On one of the other days (they are blurring into one) we headed up to Portobello Rd, the market there and an amazing skate park, Bay Sixty6, for TGT2.5:3 to let himself loose for a while. He wasn’t very happy about us hanging around so we were banished for an hour or two while he kickflipped, 1080 shoveit-ed, ollied, etc etc, TGT2.5:2 did manage to get a sneaky photo in when he wasn’t looking.

After that TGT2.5:1,2,4,5 wandered along the market and had some extremely yummy food and TGT2.5:4 started kicking around a soccer ball with one of the fellas he bumped into. Love the world game if only for that reason. A curious phenomenon of fishmongers in vans and stalls seems to be occurring all over the place and TGT2.5:2 tried to take a very touristy photo of a fishmonger stall on the street while standing in the doorway of Sainbury’s only to get a very firm rebuke from a cashier:

“We DON”T do that sort of thing here”

TGT2.5:2 briefly retreated with her tail between her legs only to return very soon after to catch a sneaky photo. TGT2.5:2 will not be denied.

TGT2.5:3 then returned from his skateboarding expedition after further topping up of his teenage batteries which also included meeting some fellow skateboarders from France, Australia and Austria. Ahhh, the international life.

Don’t even trip, dog!!!

After all those things it was then time to head to Cambridge and Leicester to visit some friends. More on that in Episode 4.