Category: FIRE as a single. (Page 1 of 9)

I was planning to take myself out to the restaurant here on the night I arrived, but once I’d unpacked the car in the rain and sat on the couch with a glass of wine, I wasn’t going to set foot outside again. I was at one with the couch.

So this shot is from lunch the next day. It was still pouring rain, so I grabbed a book I’d been saving for this moment and took myself out to the restaurant to celebrate having completed the Crazy Road Trip part of this holiday.

Now that I’ve done it – time to come clean.

Parts of me were nervous about doing this trip.

The first part, where I took the Ligas from my place to Adelaide, was no sweat. I’d done it before, after all. I was taking them to well-established places with major tourist attractions and I knew that the roads would be fine and there’d be no troubles with anything.

My kids, my family and friends were leery about the next part of the trip. The one where we head off into the Outback. We’ve all heard the warnings about travelling out there. I even had one friend, who shall remain nameless, call me and beg me not to do it after she read my itinerary on one of the blogs.

“You’ll kill yourself!!!” she said. Not really the sort of thing you want to hear when you’re days away from making a big trip. I crossed my fingers and vowed to prove her wrong.

Carry plenty of water. (The only time we used the extra water in the whole trip was to fill Liga’s water bottle before she went on her solo hike in the Grampians.)

Fill up at every petrol station you come across, in case the next one has run out of fuel and you’re stuck. (I did this because I had no intention of ruining the Ligas’ experience in Australia. I noticed some browsers with ’empty’ signs on them, but we always had enough premium petrol for my trusty little Golf.)

Take cash with you, in case you need to pay for something at a remote place with no internet. (Again, I made sure I had plenty of cash because I didn’t want to ruin the Ligas’ adventure. The only time I had to use it was when I was at Barkly Homestead, right in the middle of the Outback, when I handed over a $5 note to get coins for the washing machine.)

Lock your doors in (various places) because the crime rate is high. (This was a tough one. It was hard to convey to the girls that they had to be careful in some places without sounding like a paranoid Karen. The fact remains that some of the places we visited have high petty crime rates and I wanted to keep them safe. They went home without anything bad happening, so that was a win.)

You should only drive in the Outback with a large 4WD car. (When I was here in September, I kept an eye on the roads. Sure, most cars were big, but there were some smaller cars like mine. I figured, with a bit of luck, I’d be ok. I trust in the German workmanship of the Golf.)

Kangaroos, camels and cattle can run onto the road and wreck your car. (THIS was the one I was most afraid of. If a large animal appeared out of nowhere and there was no way to avoid hitting it, then yes. The holiday would be ruined. My beautiful little car would be ruined. And I (and the Ligas, maybe) might be ruined. This was one I had no control of and I decided to go with the odds.)

Overseas tourists can forget to drive on the left and can hit you. (This actually happened to a woman on the Simple Savings forum. She lived in the Northern Territory and a car driven by a French tourist ploughed into her. She was trapped and if it wasn’t for a truck driver who happened to come along and saw that her car was alight and pulled her out, she’d be dead. Her feet were mangled in the crash, so she has life-long consequences from that. She wrote a post warning me to think carefully about doing this trip. This shook me for a while, until I realised that the chances of something like this happening to TWO members of a small online forum were probably pretty minuscule. Still, I kept an eye on every single car or truck on the other side of the road, just in case.)

Take a first-aid kit with you. You may be a first responder in a place with no internet. (Thank goodness this didn’t happen. I bought a kit, but I forgot to put it in the car.)

So before I dived into my book, I ordered a glass of bubbly and raised it to myself. Sometimes we have to do things that scare us to grow.

I allowed myself to feel a little bit proud of myself.

I honestly don’t think the Ligas could have had a better holiday with me, apart from the weather on a few days, but that was out of my control. They saw so much, particularly the wildlife. As my sister Kate said a few days ago, not too many tourists come away from Australia having done a full-on road trip into the outback. They have seen a huge swathe of this country.

I’m also proud that, despite my qualms, I swung the wheel and turned left instead of right. I’ve booked so many tours for 2025, so it’s good to be reminded that I AM a capable traveller on my own.

Keep in mind that I still have a 6-hour drive to get back home again. So far, though, I’ve driven around 7,400 km.

It’s hard to process what that means until you see it on a map. It’s crazy.

But now I’m here on the LAZY part of the road trip.

Back in 2007, when I was just clawing my way out of poverty, dragging the kids with me, I bought into a timeshare. I wanted to guarantee that the boys and I would have at least one holiday a year.

This timeshare wasn’t tied to a single property, but instead uses points, which you can use on properties around Australia, New Zealand, Bali and other places around the world with partners of the timeshare. I used this partner feature when I took the kids to Phuket and when I went to Kangaroo Island this year.

Lake Crackenback, right from the start, has always been fully booked. People absolutely love it and as soon as time becomes available, it’s taken. It’s great for the snow season, but it has the lake and bushwalks etc in the warmer months as well.

Imagine my surprise when I logged on a few months ago, just to idly look for something that might be available in Nov/Dec, when I saw a week available right at this time. I grabbed it.

This created an endpoint after I decided to do the long, solo road trip. Instead of coming home for a few days, I’d arrive straight at the resort. Poor Scout. But from what Georgia says, she’s adjusting to life as a single dog. I can’t wait for her welcome when I get home, though!

There are a lot of people who own homes here, but these apartments over the water appear to be for people like me.

Poor people, in other words. Haha!

Look at these ducks. You know how most ducks glide across the water? These ones jerk their necks as they swim, making it obvious that they’re making an effort underneath the water. They also duck dive a lot. I like that.

I decided to keep the first 3 days as R & R days. During that time, I napped twice a day, read 4 books and learned that if I walked briskly around the lake 3 times, I could close all the rings on my Apple watch. That’s what I’ll be doing once I finish this post. I need to be a bit fitter than I am at present.

I was delighted to find that the path around the lake has sculptures along it. I was trying to work out what this one was all about until I read what it was called.

“The Bird Watchers.”

Here’s the bird.

The bird watchers were pointing their binoculars everywhere except where the bird actually was.

This was a hefty one, but when I was on my third round of the lake, it was swinging in the wind.

I liked this one. She could also move, but it must take a VERY strong wind to swing her around.

People can hire bikes, and use canoes and kayaks on the lake – there’s a gym, spa, pool and sauna.

I was so pleased to see this little fella. We don’t get rosellas where I live.

We have Little Ravens though. This one is very used to being fed by the people in these apartments. He isn’t afraid to get very close, particularly when people are feeding ducks and he swoops in for a share.

I love all the different shades on his feathers. His eyes also reminded me of the Bald eagles that I saw in Canada and Alaska.

I felt bad when I walked around a corner and the ducks all scuttled straight into the water. They looked as if they were getting warm, sunning themselves on the path.

If I was in England, I would’ve thought this was meant to be a mole. Maybe it’s a platypus?

Finally, do you remember the bear scat I saw on the path when I was walking on my own in Canada?

Here’s some kangaroo scat. Not nearly as fearsome, I know, but I liked how it flew my mind back to a place so far away. How incredibly lucky am I to have visited both places within 5 months of each other?

Here’s how I’m choosing to eat a meal a day. A fellow forum member from Simple Savings who does a lot of caravanning with her husband put me onto this. A toasty maker. I love a baked bean toasty. Or a cheese and ham one.

A week before I left on this trip, I saw a handy hint to help with cleaning it – to use baking paper. OMG. Game changer!

Well HOLY SHIT!!!!!

I went for that walk.

I was walking around the lake, minding my own business, when I LITERALLY almost stepped on a Red Bellied Black Snake.

My foot was millimetres from landing on it when it suddenly started moving.

I desperately tried my best to hover in mid-air while it wended its way of the way of my feet.

Honestly, it scared the living daylights out of me.

Locals said, “Yeah, it’ll kill you, but they’re very non-aggressive. “

Seems typical though. I do my best to avoid being out of doors, then when I do, it tries to kill me!!

Joke of the Day:

It turns out that there was a lookout right behind my motel in Mt Isa, so up I went. It had a painted silo there, but this was the view that dominated. I have to say that I’m not particularly drawn to Mt Isa and I was eager to get on the road and see what else there was to see.

I was listening to a ‘Casefile’ episode about the death of a young boy called Aaron Bacon who was sent to a wilderness training camp in terrain probably very similar to what I was travelling through. The poor boy. It made it all very vivid as I was looking at the dust and dirt.

The place looks as dry as a chip. Despite what friends online were telling me about flooding further down, there was no evidence of it here.

There was a memorial marker alongside the highway for Burke and Wills. I’ve always had a soft spot for these guys, ever since I read a book about their failed expedition when I was a child. They passed through here on their way up towards the Queensland coast.

Have a quick read of this link about the Burke and Wills expedition. It’s so sad – the bad luck that they had was beyond anything.

When I was with the Ligas at the second salt lake, I learned from the information board that the Dig Tree is still there.

omg.

(Maybe there’ll be another road trip one day…?)

Almost right next to the Burle and Wills memorial was this. Bad luck keeps happening, it seems.

A bit further down the road, there was a sign towards “Chinaman’s Creek Dam.” You know the rules… I turned the wheel.

It was a beautiful spot. There was a Barbeque area and playground that was filled with locals gathering for a kid’s birthday. People were using the barbie to cook snags and the smell was fantastic.

I sat there for a while, with my Antarctica Pee bottle filled with water, munching some chicken crimpy shapes. I was enjoying the view. It was nice to be in a beautiful place that others were using too.

This was sticking up by the side of the road and I liked the look of it. I snapped this without getting out of the car.

I wanted to show you what most of the creeks look like here, so I stopped the car at the bridge over Scrubby Creek and walked back to take the photo.

This country is DRY.

Cicadas were singing – and it was the middle of the day. In Melbourne, I’m only used to hearing them at dusk. The heat was beating down.

It’s a part of the country that I’m glad I’m seeing, but I wouldn’t want to live here. I don’t know how the early settlers, especially the women with those long skirts and petticoats, managed to survive with no airconditioning.

When you see lots of hawks, it means there’s fresh meat on the road. On some stretches, there were lots of dead kandaroos.

It was nearing midday and I was thinking that I’d better find somewhere to grab some lunch.

Yes, I’m not kidding. They shot the opening sequences of ‘Crocodile Dundee’ at this very pub.

And they’ve been milking it ever since.

I bought a ginger beer and a magnet in deference to the sign. They didn’t offer anything to eat, but I stayed for about half an hour, talking to the woman behind the bar and a couple of other tourists.

It fulfilled the extrovert inside this introvert. I’ll be good without human contact for days now!

The original bar in the movie was blue, and they’ve kept it around the back. She was most insistent that I go and see it, so I did.

He looks like he’s had too much whiskey, doesn’t he?

Then it was back on the road again, in search of lunch.

Little did I guess what was going to happen at the roadhouse I stopped at!

OMG – these brolgas are so BIG! They walked so close to me, without a care in the world. I was beside myself!

The roadhouse here was as grimy as Liga would have liked. There were crumbs all over the table where I sat and the owners sat at a table next to me where they’d obviously been sitting all day as it was piled high with stuff. The chips I ordered for lunch (to be safe) were ok, but I left half of them. I wanted to get out of there and keep going.

Apologies for the wonky horizon line. This is what the country looked like, going for miles. When they say there’s nothing in the middle of Australia, believe them.

This is what Winton looks like on a late Sunday afternoon.

Yep. Dead.

I was able to find a motel who gave me a room for $165 – ouch. But their wifi was excellent.

I spent most of the afternoon talking to friends and family.

Instead of getting a Roomba mower, these people have gone for the prototype.

The plaque reads:

AB. (BANJO) PATERSON
(1864-1941)
WROTE THE WORDS TO
WALTZING MATILDA AT
DAGWORTH STATION IN
THE WINTON SHIRE IN 1895
TO A TUNE PLAYED
BY CHRISTINA MACPHERSON.
THE FIRST PUBLIC PERFORMANCE
WAS IN WINTON AT THE
NORTH GREGORY HOTEL
ON APRIL 6TH 1895.
WALTZING MATILDA IS
NOW KNOWN THE WORLD
OVER AS AUSTRALIAS’ UNOFFICIAL
NATIONAL ANTHEM AND
INSPIRATION.
DURING HIS LIFE BANJO
WROTE MANY POEMS ABOUT
THE BUSH AND SET THE
TREND FOR AUSTRALIAN
LITERATURE IN ITS INFANCY.

Now you know!

Again, I have a soft spot for Banjo Patterson. Mum and Dad gave me a children’s book of poems called ‘The Animals Noah Forget’ about Aussie animals. It’s funny how much you carry with you from childhood.

So far, this is how far I’ve driven. The car was at 100,000 KMS as we left Melbourne, so it’ll be interesting to see how far my trusty little Golf drives before we get back home.

And look at this. I’d just connected with Evan28 when I glanced out of the window and saw these brolgas enjoying the water being sprayed on the lawn outside the motel.

How wonderful!

Dad joke of the Day:

Yes, I can see that my reflection is messing with this head in a box. I’m sorry. But this is the first thing we went to see on our day touring around Drogheda and the surrounding towns.

This head belongs to St Oliver Plunkett, He was born in 1625 in England, made his way over to Ireland at some stage before doing some things that really annoyed the English, like teaching stuff to Irish kids and making them literate. You know, that kind of thing.

Anyway, he was hung, drawn and quartered at Tyburn Hill in London in 1681. Friends rescued his head from the fire and brought it back to Ireland, where they stuck it in a box in a church.

Here’s his profile.

He was made a saint in the 70’s, which was exciting for the Irish because he was the first Irish saint in 700 years.

I thought that this was a little insensitive, though. They’ve placed the actual door to his jail cell right where he can see it. You would’ve thought that he’d have seen enough of it when he was still alive.

That’s what it looks like, just to the left of the altar. There’s a piece of the one true cross somewhere up on that altar, too.

We walked up a steep hill to Millmount Fort, which looms over the town of Drogheda. Read this information sign… it’s dark humour is impressive.

After gazing at the view of the town, we walked down the stairs to street level, crossing this bridge with a colourful display of blooms.

Here is the only surviving part of the Norman-built wall that originally encircled the whole town. James said that they used to let traffic drive through it, until a truck driver got stuck. Now it’s blocked ogg by some lovely red tubs of geraniums.

Quite tall.

To the left you can see the groove where the portcullis used to be.

Then I was whisked off to a genuine Irish farmhouse for some morning tea,

There am I in my grey merino sack dress, with Toby the dog peering out from under the table beside my Antarctica pee bottle, with James’ parents having a toast with our cups of tea.

Scones with homemade raspberry jam and cream, a type of fruit cake called Brack and another cake I didn’t get to try as I was too full. They are lovely people.

Once on the road again, we stopped at this cracking site. It’s the burial ground of the 7 foot tall lady. To be fair, it’s definitely a very long grave.

Here’s the story:

The Long Woman’s Grave or “The Cairn of Cauthleen” is the grave of a Spanish noble woman who married Lorcan O’Hanlon, the youngest son of the Chieftain of Omeath.
On his death the Chieftain ordered that his lands be divided between his two sons, Conn Óg and Lorcan.

However Conn Óg tricked his brother Lorcan by bringing him up to the Lug or hollow in the mountains, telling him that he would give him the land” as far as he could see”.

Lorcan was dismayed as he looked on at the mist and the bleakness of the hollow which was now his legacy.

Lorcan owned a ship and begun trading in the East, making his fortune and becoming prosperous.

On one of his voyages to Spain he bravely saved the lives of a Spanish nobleman and his daughter.

Lorcan was enchanted by Cauthleen and the pair made a handsome couple; she was 7ft tall, only three inches smaller than Lorcan.

Cauthleen was already engaged to be married but was wooed by Lorcan’s professions of love and the promises of the good life that they would have back in Omeath. The pair eloped when the couple arrived in Carlingford Lough the locals were enchanted by this tall beauty adorned with jewels.

The couple set along the mountain path until they came to the Lug or Hollow in the rocks.

Lorcan bade his bride to stand in the centre and look around as far as she could see as he “Was queen of all she could survey”.

Cauthleen looked around, so great was her disappointment and the realization of what she had left behind in Spain, she fell to the ground and died.

Lorcan was horrified that his dishonesty had caused his bride to die and flung himself into the murky waters of the marsh at the crossroads.

His body was never recovered.

The locals found the long woman’s’ body, and dug a grave for Cauthleen in the “Lug Bhan Fada” (Long woman’s hollow) where she lay.

Each person laid a stone on the grave to raise her burial cairn and here she sleeps today in the hollow of her disappointment and unfilled promises.”

***

I love first off that a Spanish noblewoman had an Irish name, and also that she fell down and died from disappointment. That’s hardcore.

This is the sight that caused her demise.

We kept driving up into the hills. The clouds were rolling in, as it hadn’t stopped raining all day. The hills were impossibly green, especially to the eyes of an Australian.

We arrived at the very pretty little town of Carlingford, right beside the sea, where James pulled the very same red hat out from the car that I followed around North Korea when we were on the tour.

I was so happy to see it again!

I mean really. How can you not be enchanted by it, even in the rain?

We ducked into a little pub for lunch, where I had the best seafood chowder I’ve ever had.

Old buildings are right next to the new.

Here’s the Carlingford version of the town gates. Down on the left hand side was a dank, wet cell that they used to use as a holding cell.

That’ll sober you up!

we were looking for the ancient monastery that was close to the centre of town. We took a detour into a churchyard, but that wasn’t it. Then James found it.

This place was built in the 14th century and was torn down when Henry VIII got rid of all the monasteries and kept their lands and wealth for himself and his friends. *cough John Petre from Ingateston Hall, for example cough*

The only things we could hear was the falling of the rain and the crunch of the stones under our feet.

These walls were intended to stay up for centuries. It was sad to think of all that effort wasted because Henry wanted to divorce one woman to marry another.

Then we stopped in at a gift shop, where I would’ve bought this metal sculpture if it wasn’t so heavy. See? Only taking carryon is saving me a fortune!

James bought me this little sheep with Irish colours as a souvenir. It’ll travel around all of Ireland with me.

A quick stop at the ruined castle overlooking the town, and then we were off again.

Just in case the tour doesn’t take me to see the ancient Celtic burial sites in the West, we stopped at this little one.
Then we went to a place called Masterboice, a working churchyard that has a huge round tower and three enormous Celtic crosses.
Because if one is good, then three must be absolutely great.

Here is the round tower with the top bitten from it, probably by lightning.Many of the graves had Celtic crosses on them, in imitation of the real ones. One grave had soccer balls at the end. To each their own.

Then we drove through the Irish country’s to one last place. And this place was amazing.

Mellifont Abbey. This place was the best at giving an idea of just how big these places were and how vast a loss they must have been to the poorer communities when the monasteries were destroyed.

This site wasn’t just one building. It was set out over quite a large area, with the walls and foundations of many of the original buildings still clearly visible.

They think that this building was where the monks would wash their hands and purify themselves before mass.

This was tucked in behind it.

Some decorative pieces still remain.

As we walked back to the car, the sound of a briskly flowing stream was right on the other side of a hedge. The monks had chosen this place carefully. And now, here we are.

I’ve got to say, we covered a huge amount of ground in 2 days. I even got to see the house James is building – stunning polished concrete floors – and later that night we went out for a tapas dinner, then to drinks at a pub. There we met a New Zealander who was staying at the same hotel I was.

I went back to the hotel, while James went off for drinks with some work friends.

The next morning I stayed in and wrote blog posts. I was nearly a week behind.

James swung by, picked me up and we took the scenic route to the hotel where I’ll be joining the tour. We had lunch, said our goodbyes, and I wrote all afternoon to catch up.

The tour group has around 26 people in it, I think. A sprinkling of Aussies, a few Brits but the majority are American. Funnily enough, there’s a disproportionate amount of retired teachers and engineers.

They don’t appear to be party animals. Most people were going back to their rooms at 8 PM. Still, we’ll see. It’s early days yet.

It’s now 10PM and I’ve totally caught up. I’m going to schedule the publishing time, then I’m going to bed. It’s a big day tomorrow… we’re heading into another country.

Northern Ireland.

First stop of the day was Kensington Palace. I wasn’t terrifically excited about seeing this, but it was a convenient thing to see in the morning, before I made the trek to see the next thing on the list in the afternoon.

I had a ticket for 10AM. As I was walking across the park toward the palace, the heat was already noticeable. 

Lots of families and groups of young mums, buggies and dogs in tow, were sitting in the shade under trees. As I walked, Kensington Palace came into view, the gilt on the gates glistening in the sun.

I was surprised that there was no airport style security here. Each bag was searched by hand. 

The tour is divided into two sections. The first is a fashion exhibition – “ From Court to Couture.” The next was the permanent exhibition of Queen Victoria’s childhood.

So what’s so important about these stairs? Why, only that these two lovebirds first met on them!

Victoria was smitten by his dashing good looks from the start. Fun fact : she had to propose to him because, being a queen, she outranked him.

Queen Victoria ended up HATING her mother.

Queen Victoria was actually lucky to be born. She never would’ve existed except for the fact that her cousin Princess Charlotte, who was George IV’s only legitimate heir, died in childbirth. The king was never going to have another heir – he and his wife lived apart and absolutely loathed each other. But he had 3 brothers who were single…

Some of them were living contentedly with their longtime mistresses and families, but that all changed when Charlotte died. They were ordered to get married to suitable wives and get busy producing heirs asap.

Two of them actually produced kids- a girl and a boy. But because Victoria’s dad was the elder of the two dads, she became heir.
Her daddy promptly died, leaving Victoria’s mum to bring her up. The royal family didn’t like her much – the mother, I mean – especially when she made Sir John Conroy the head of the princess’s household. Over time, they both became very keen on the idea of running the regency should Victoria become Queen before the age of 18. By this time, another king was on the throne – his wife is whom Adelaide in Australia is named for – and although he was failing in health, he vowed to stay alive until she’d reached that magic birthday.

Conroy’s rules for the princess were very controlling. She was never allowed to use the staircase alone, she had to share her bedroom with her mother and that’s all I can remember, though there were more.

When Victoria was 16, she was very sick from a fever and while she was so sick, her mother tried to force her to sign a paper giving the regency to herself and Conroy. Victoria refused, perhaps showing the first sign of that stubbornness she showed in later life.

.
As soon as Victoria became queen, shortly after her 18th birthday , she moved from Kensington to Buckingham palace, sacked Conroy and put her mother’s rooms at the opposite side of the palace to hers. Fair enough, too.

When I entered the palace, first I had to go through the fashion exhibition. For anyone who follows fashion and celebrities, this exhibition would be amazing. For me, I was more interested in the older exhibits, so that’s pretty much what you’re going to see.

This is a silver court dress from Charles II’s time.

This is the widest surviving court gown in Britain at nearly three metres wide. At Court, most people chose to make an impact wearing expensive brocaded fabrics.

This is a plain silk and so would have been cheaper fabric to buy. However its size and the sheer quality of workmanship and design make up for the less expensive fabric. Worn in 1760.

What got me about this tiara was the “accepted by the government in lieu of inheritance taxes” bit.

Here’s a list of the rules Princess Victoria had to follow. Once I’d finished seeing her rooms it was time to see the Diana memorial.

The sunken garden where her memorial statue is located is surrounded on 3 sides by this walkway, with strategic spots being cut out for views. Considering that this was another 30C day, you have no idea how welcome this shade was. I sat here on a bench for a while, contemplatively licking the ice cream cone I bought earlier.

After this, I jumped on a bus and went for 12 stops to a place called 575 Wandsworth Road. I fell asleep along the way and only woke up when I dropped my water bottle with a CRASH.

I was coming here to see a National Trust property that I saw online a couple of months ago. The description was very brief, but it said that they only allow tours of 6 and that you have to take off your shoes to protect the painted floors. What sealed the deal for me was that they only run tours here two days a week, and they only release spots for the tours a month ahead.

There has to be something niche about this house, I thought, as I began stalking the website. Then, one day I logged on and there it was! Tickets available on “my” week! I dithered… Thursday or Friday? I had to hurry… those places could go at any second! I jabbed at Thursday and the deed was done.
because I was a National Trust member in Australia, ( my card arrived a few days before I left), I was able to get in for free. Bargain!

Along the way, I saw this rhinoceros being suspended from a building. I was on the upper floor of a double decker. This was just before I took that nap I was telling you about earlier.

Here it is. Such a nondescript place. No sign outside except for the tiny one obviously put there only when it’s open. I had a big chunk of time to kill before 3 o’clock so I made myself comfy in the shade and began writing a blog post for Greenwich.

After a while the previous tour group came out. One woman said to me, “You’re going to love it. It’s like setting foot into Narnia!”

As it turned out, 3 people didn’t show, so I was on the smallest tour ever. This house is totally unique. I’m so glad I visited.

Basically, this house has carved fretwork everywhere. Khadambi Asalache bought this house in the 80’s and set about making it entirely his own space. A bit like what I’m doing with my place, but I’m not putting in anything like this effort that he did!

https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/london/575-wandsworth-road?fbclid=IwAR3P32vlbrYyUVeL4Gwe0m3nkf7V9MmsqJGQfKCsQmthK0TcQgyNiUPR0e0

It’s well worth the train or bus ride to see this place in person.

When I woke, it was to lots of birthday wishes from everyone I love. Yes, today Frogdancer Jones enters a new decade!

I was originally supposed to arrive today, but I brought my trip a few days forward so that I could be sure that I could attend lunch at the Sky Garden with Scott.

But first I had to check out of the hotel and get to Corinna’s place. As I was zipping up my case, the fire alarm sounded. I looked around the room, then at my fully packed bags and thought, “We’ll, I’m ok to evacuate!” and I left. 

Seeing Corinna again was so lovely. The street numbers on her street aren’t very clear, so she had to come out on her balcony to guide me in.

“I can see you,” she called.

“I can’t see you!” I called back.

I dropped my case, we had a quick chat and then she was off to work and I was off to meet Scott, who was coming down by train from his place in Market Harborough.

He suggested we meet outside a church that is near a big junction of roads. Citimapper got confused, but luckily I bumped into a woman giving away chocolate truffles – she gave me 5 when I said it was my birthday – and she directed me down the correct arm of the junction. She used to live in Sydney. 

I was sitting on the steps of the church, blogging about Buckingham Palace when Scott arrived. Big hugs all round and after a quick look at the church – St Mary Woolnoth for all of those T S Elliot fans out there – we walked to the Sky Garden.

( This tall pillar with gold on top marks where the Great Fire in 1666 first started. It destroyed over 80% of the city.)

It’s as the name suggests… it’s a garden in a skyscraper. It’s free to get in, but you have to book in advance otherwise half of London might turn up on any given day. There are 3 restaurants. We were heading for the mid tier one. 

Before we went in for lunch, we had a look around.

Scott said that The Shard’s viewing platforms were higher, but they were so high as to be almost too removed from the ground below. The Shy Garden’s platforms are high enough to have the city sprawled out below, but you can still see people. You’re still a part of the city.

Lunch was delectable. We were given a window table and the first thing we ordered was a glass of bubbly each, to celebrate this auspicious day.

Over lunch we began the big “ catch up “ conversation. It was such a treat, sitting across from such a good friend, with an extraordinary view below, eating the best plate of food I’ve had in a looong while.

It was worth coming here a few days easily to ensure I didn’t miss it.

After lunch we went on a walking tour of Landon’s City district. It was interesting, but was made completely memorable when, after Corinna happened to send me 4 or 5 WhatsApp messages, the guide rather snappishly told me to stop filming him.

As I was doing no such thing, I quickly set him straight and he was very nice to me for the rest of the walk. But there was no tip for him at the end!

The day was hot at 32C, so we sheltered in an ancient Roman exhibition that was really boring, but the aircon was excellent! Then upstairs in an air conditioned Starbucks we continued our conversation until it was time for Scott to catch his train.

It was a beautiful birthday present, but the day wasn’t over yet.

I walked back to Corinna’s after leaving the tube, passing by these two beauties.

Just wonderful.
I had to walk along the docks for a bit. It was bustling with people and there were a few boats too.

Corinna took me to an Israeli restaurant for my birthday. I’ve never tasted Israeli cuisine before and it was amazing! The complexities of the many spices used in each dish were like a party on the tongue.

With free birthday shots from the restaurant and a cocktail each, we were feeling no pain. We lingered over dinner and then took the 2 walks and 2 trains home.

It was an absolutely wonderful birthday and the perfect way to enter into a new decade.

Life’s good!

Today turned out to be another very hot day in London. My arrival coincided with one of the biggest heat waves on record here. Day after day of 30C heat.

Of course, I turned up wearing merino wool, almost from head to toe. This week was going to be a test for the dress and the t shirts!

Greenwich village is a little way down from London proper, but a short ride on the tube, the monorail and a short walk was all that was required to get me to the first stop of the day. 

The Queen’s House.

I got there a little early so I settled myself on the balcony outside and gazed at this glorious view. Isn’t it beautiful? It’s the perfect mix of old and new.

Then I saw Deana approaching across the lawn. She was giving me a Greenwich tour for my birthday.

Deana and I met eight years ago when I announced on the frog blog that I was going over to the UK. She emailed and introduced herself, explaining that she’d read the blog for years and invited me to stay at her place for a few days. 

She didn’t sound like an axe murderer so I accepted. I spent 3 happy days with Deana and her family, and she took me to see Hever Castle ( Anne Boleyn’s childhood home), Jane Austen’s house in Hampshirite, which is an absolute Must See) and Canterbury Cathedral.

It’s been a long time between visits, but here we are again!

The Queen’s house has an interesting history that, if I was blogging on my laptop I’d link to it, but I’m not so you”ll have to do it yourself. It has many beautiful things in it, but I was here to see one thing in particular- the Armada portrait of Elizabeth I.

There are a lot of paintings here, which isn’t surprising as the house was an art studio during Charles II’s reign. He allowed a family of maritime Dutch painters to work here, so there are MANY paintings of maritime battles and such. Yet there are other paintings hidden among them that delighted me as well.

I loved this painting, It’s a Rembrandt, called “Christ and St Mary Magdalene at the tomb.” It’s depicting when she sees Christ and realised that the impossible has happened and he’s risen from the dead.

He is sporting a nice sun hat. I guess it’s sensible – it’s warm in the Middle East.

This one is really cool. It’s “The Parting Cheer” by O’Neil. It’s showing the pain and heartbreak of those left behind when their loved ones sail away towards a new life. I love that there’s one little girl who’s aware of our presence and is looking straight at us.

These paintings are of the Normandy landings in 1944, by Stephen Bone. They think they were painted on the spot because there are traces of sand caught in the paint.

Look at the beauty of the Tulip Stairs.

We loved them!

Charles II gave permission for a father and son team to live at the Queen’s House and paint. Here is a picture of the father, Willem van der Velda. It’s thought that the parchment he’s holding was originally blank, but his son, (same name but with “the younger “ attached) painted some plans that his father had been working on. Sort of like saying, “This is what my Dad did.”

This is an engraved Nautilus shell. I actually have one of these in my china cabinet at home. My grandmother Dolly found it on a beach in Queensland and was so happy about it. This one is far larger than mine, but I know how delicate they are. Being able to carve into one is great craftsmanship.

This is a very early Australian painting. The emu isn’t bad, but the kangaroos are a little chunky.

look at the next two pictures. I never knew this guy existed. Imagine if he had’ve lived? Maybe England wouldn’t have executed their king? It’s funny how history exists on the spin of a coin sometimes.

Poor thing.

Here’s his mum, Anne of Denmark. Notice her pearls. I’ll be referring to them a bit later on.

Mary I, ( Henry VIII’ daughter, also known as’Bloody Mary’ because she burnt a few Protestants at the stake) and her husband Phillip II of Spain.

Poor Mary led a thwarted life. Henry VIII has a lot to answer for when it comes to the women in his life.

Henry VIi , who defeated Richard II and ended the War of the Roses. He doesn’t look too happy about it. Below is his grandson Edward, Henry VIII’s long desired son. It’s sad to think that he died at 16, poor boy.

His big sister Elizabeth, looking regal. A guide here told us that Elizabeth had once had a miniature painted of her, and forever after, she insisted that anyone who painted her had to copy her face from that miniature.

It must’ve been like getting a great driver’s licence photo. You want to hang on to it forever.

Here he is. The man whose grave I’ll be standing on in 3 day’s time.

Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria. He believed so strongly in the divine right of kings that he refused to compromise and move with the times. It ended up costing him his head.

Remember him. He comes up again a few days later.

And then I walked into a room the same as all the others… and there she was.

Queen Elizabeth I, after the English had kicked Spanish butts when they tried to invade. Remember the portrait of Mary I and her husband Phillip?

He was the one who tried to take England from Elizabeth. What an arse.

anyway, look at how she’s standing proudly. One hand is on a globe of the world, with her finger pointing to Virginia, the first colony in America and the first one named after her.

Her gown is embroidered with the sun and moon symbols. In medieval portraiture, the king is the sun and the queen the moon. She is stating that she embodies both.

the panels at the back show before and after pictures of the Spanish armada. Really rubbing it in.

and look at those pearls. Look familiar? Anne of Denmark has recycled them and worn them in a different way in her portrait.

I was a little bit happy. Here’s a few close-ups

Look at the pearls. They have an iridescence about them.

It’s also a statement of wealth. Pearls were horrendously expensive back then, as they had to be dived for and searched for. Therefore, having strings of matched pearls like this is a tremendous show of wealth.

And look at the feathers in this fan!

I was so happy to see this portrait. What a piece of history! She’s saying to the world, “ Phillip fucked around and found out. Don’t mess with me.”

I love it.

After that feast for the eyes, we sat in a shaded spot and ate the picnic Deana brought. Then it was a walk up a VERY steep hill to see The Royal Observatory. This is where the famous meridian line is located.
Here I am doing the obligatory photo with one foot east and one west. It had Sydney, Canberra and Hobart, but no Melbourne.

We wandered around the cobbled courtyard and found ourselves at a little balcony overlooking the wonderful view we’d seen before. Then I saw a sign directing people to the Camera Obscura.

Obviously I couldn’t take a photo in the dark, but trust me – the picture that was projected down from the mirror in the chimney was a perfect representation of The Queen’s House. What made it even more memorable was that it wasn’t a static image, like a photograph. Every time a car went past, you could see it moving, which really brought home that we’re not just looking at a photograph, but we’re seeing the space in real time.

Remember the photo at the top of this post? Here’s the same view but from the hill at the Observatory. There’s the Queen’s House.

Next stop was a look through the house that a long succession of Head Guys of the Observatory lived. One poor woman had 9 kids on top of that hill in a house where all the rooms run into each other. At least the constant breeze up there meant that drying the washing would be… well, a breeze!

I took a snap of this dress. It belonged to the daughter of one of those guys and it’s so wonderfully Georgette Heyer.

The bottom part of the building was devoted to watches, clocks and the quest to find longitude. (Or is it latitude? I can never remember which.)

This sort of stuff didn’t grab me much, but I found this clock very interesting. 

We discovered there was an easier way done, so we took it, ambling back down and talking all the way to The Cutty Sark.

This was really interesting. The Curry Sark was a clipper that was primarily used for delivering tea. She used to swing by Australia to pick up bales of wool. Considering the distances she travelled, she was small. The men who signed up to sail on her were clearly crazy.

As soon as I stepped into the ship, I could smell tea. Deana didn’t, until I mentioned it, but then again, she’s English. About three quarters of the liquid components in her body would be tea.

I liked this one- how a lot of guys took the opportunity to get a free trip to Australia!

This was on the deck near the steering wheel. I felt sorry for him.

After seeing all that there was to see on the ship, we settled down on a shaded part of the deck and had a good chat. We lost track of time and were interrupted by a member of staff who wanted to clear the ship before locking up.

We weren’t ready to call it a day, so Deana suggested that we find a pub with a garden. I have to say, that gin and tonic with lime went down a treat. It was growing dark when we parted.

I admit that the Underground bamboozled me towards the end of the journey, but I fell in with a really nice Canadian couple who were also looking for Aldgate East. We all made it home.

I’m so lucky. What a way to see out my 50’s! Thanks Deana.

At last I’m back!

Long time readers would know that I’ve always wanted to go to England. I’ve always loved the history of the place and read everything I could about it. I planned my trip to the UK and Europe when I was 15, but due to being all-too-practical in my younger years … “!’ll finish my teaching degree and THEN I’ll go!” … and then life, babies and single parenthood… I eventually ended up going when I was 51. Talk about delayed gratification!

I had the trip of a lifetime. 9 weeks travelling around the UK and Europe, seeing all the main things I always wanted to see and denying myself NOTHING. I’ve never tatted up the cost of that trip. But however much it cost, it was worth every penny.

I never dreamed that it’d be 8 long years until I set foot here again, but I’m back:. It’s going to be a different sort of trip this time. Last time I was a very unseasoned traveller and my dear friend Scott planned every day for me. I wasn’t really aware of it at the time, but he was gradually educating me in how to travel; beginning by mansplaining everything ( thank god!) and sticking by my side, then gradually stepping back and letting me learn to navigate by myself around Pais for a day, then sending me off to Bath for 3 days on my own.

This time, after going to North Korea with friends and then Antarctica on my own, (where I met fantastic new friends), I planned the itinerary myself, with days by myself, a tour around Ireland for two weeks, all interspersed with catching up with people I’ve met on my travels. It’s going to be so much fun!

I jumped off the plane bright and early and 6 AM and after buying a sim at the airport, I took the tube to Kings Cross station. Honestly, this whole place is a big Monopoly game. My plan was to stow my carry-on suitcase for the day so that I could visit some museums, then pick it up and take a train to my hotel.

The man at the baggage check was very helpful. “Your day is going to be challenging,” he said. “Many tube lines are closed.”

He got out his phone and I told him whereI wanted to go. Fortunate Frogdancer picked places that were accessible by the Piccadilly line , which was open. Sadly, my hotel was not. I left that problem for Future Frogdancer to work out and I went on my way.

First stop was The Wallace Collection. Scott and I visited it back in 2015, when I was enraptured by seeing The Laughing Cavalier. I have a postcard of him on my fridge to this day.

Look at the lace on his cuffs! You’d swear it was a photo.

And look at his collar. Incredible. Legend has it that this is an engagement painting.

Another reason why I wanted to come back here was that they were hosting an exhibition of dogs. Naturally, this is right up my alley.

Here is my Thrill of the Day. ‘The Cavalier’s Pets’ by Landseer. I have had a print of this hanging in my house since before I was married. The boys have never known life without it being there. And now, casually hanging in a gallery- here it is.

I was so excited! It was huge! I stood there and beamed at it like I was meeting an old friend. It was a wonderful surprise.

Da Vinci, anyone? As in Leonardo. Are you kidding me?

I was excited to see this one because the tricolour Cavalier on the left is Dash- Queen Victoria’s beloved pet when she was young. After her coronation, she went home, took off all her regalia and gave Dash his bath.

Here’s a sketch she drew of her Daschund , Waldmann. She clearly had good taste in her dog breeds.

Read the panel next to the portrait. It’s an interesting story.

I took a photo of this pup, not from any artistic merit but because I was going to the Sir John Shane’s museum next, and here is a picture of the dog that he loved.

Then I wandered through the rest of the collection.

It’s amazing how really old and famous artists pop up as if out of nowhere. How about a Rembrandt?

A bust of Napoleon.

A young Josephine.

I wandered around for nearly 2 hours, then boldly headed off towards my next museum – The Sir John Soanes museum.

Where I found the same dog. But the dog isn’t the point of this museum.

I didn’t know anything much about Sir John Soanes, except that he was an architect and an avid collector of things. But everyone I spoke to said that it was a must see. 

This house was incredible. It was designed purely to display his collection in the best light. And when I say light, I mean that he had hundreds of mirrors put in to bounce the light from the extra windows he’d built. I was there on a very bright day, but I could imagine that even on a dark, winery day, this house would be well lit.

At the end of his life he arranged with politician friends to have a law made to protect his collection by donating it to the nation. The reason he did this was a bit sad. He’d lost his wife and elder son, and his younger son was a spendthrift and wastrel who hated his father and his collection. Rather than have his son break apart the collection and sell it all off, this was his solution. 

Lucky for us!

Apollo. Plus hundreds of other antiquities. Some real, some plaster casts. But they were everywhere. I was glad I had put my carryon in a locker and my handbag in the cloakroom. Imagine if you knocked one over!

He also bought a 3,000 year old sarcophagus.
As you do. The bottom part of the house is like a crypt, with everything being about death. The light from the roof is designed to highlight it.

It has hieroglyphics outside…

… and in. The guy who discovered it in Egypt brought it back to England and tried to sell it to the British museum for £3000. This was too much for the museum, particularly after they’d just bought the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon in Athens, and so he didn’t have a buyer. After he died, his widow dropped the price to £2000 and Sir John Soanes swooped. He knew it was there, he designed the space for it and he was waiting for the price to drop.

The whole place looks like this. No wonder he was devastated when his wife died. No other woman would have put up with this.

Imagine the dusting!

The Wallace Collection has a rule that nothing in the house can ever be removed. Sir John Sloane went one further and decreed that nothing in his collection could ever be MOVED. So we are seeing everything exactly as he wanted it to be seen. 

Anyway, go and see it. It’s got far more than I’ve shown you.

Once finished here, I decided to take a walk to the Foundling hospital. This is a sad place. The guy who started it was a sea captain who arrived back in London one day and was horrified to see all of the abandoned babies left in the streets. This was in 1722, which wasn’t exactly known for its effective birth control and social safety net.

it took him SEVENTEEN YEARS before the king and other influential figures gave him the funding. You see, he wasn’t a gentleman…

There were so many women who couldn’t support their children that they had to run a ballot system to select which babies they’d take, and which wouldn’t be. It was said that there was just as much crying from those that were rejected as from those that were accepted.
The mothers used to give tokens with their babies, so that if ever they were in a position to reclaim their child, they’d have a way to show that they were getting the right child.

Here are a few of the tokens up close:

Being a single mother myself, I can clearly imagine the distress and heartache these women would have felt, but at least this way they had hope that their child would have a better life. These tokens were so sad…

Here’s the room where all of the baby ballots happened. If theses walls could talk…

And a cruel reminder of how unequal society was, this (frankly, overdecorated) room was where the wealthy would come to shmooze and feel good about themselves and their financial donations.

if you’re a fan of Handel- come and see this place. He was a huge supporter of this place and the top floor has one of the best museums about him. Sadly, lost on me…

Then I was walking towards the last place on my list – The Charles Dickens museum.

This was a house that he and his family only lived in for a few years, and I noticed that a lot of the furniture and Knick-knacks were brought from the last house he lived in, but that’s ok I guess. At least they were all genuine Dickens memorabilia.

Here’s his desk. Just like when Deana and I saw Jane Austen’s writing table back in 2015, I had to touch it.

I even had the same ring on my finger!

I love how they’ve recycled this keystone into a decoration of the garden in the cafe. My feet were tired and I wanted to try a scone, jam and cream with REAL clotted cream. It’s been 8 long years…

It was ok… but they were a bit light on with the cream. It was just like normal whipped cream. This wasn’t the thing I’ve remembered fondly from 8 years ago! I walked back to Kings Cross station to pick up my case, feeling vaguely cheated.

Until I saw a pink McLaren. That made me laugh!