Glamping in Dorset

‘Glamping’ is all the rage in the UK. Its allure I’m sure, begins and ends with the music festivals: the likes of Glastonbury, that seem to pepper the English summer calendar from early June until late August. Being summer however, doesn’t guarantee sunny, dry and warm weather – wellies and ponchos are essential attire at these events. And so, glamping came into its own: a nice way of doing camping, if camping you must do! Yurts, bell tents and retro caravans are proving popular – some of these are fully decked out with fireplaces and chimneys, carpet and even electricity. Which kinda defeats the purpose of camping in Anthony’s eyes (but looks kinda appealing to me!)

I wanted to try a yurt. But glamping over a long weekend on a budget like ours (tight!) means no electricity and no heating. I found a yurt farm in Dorset which ticked all the boxes (and didn’t make me question why we weren’t just staying in a hotel for that price!) and we packed the thermals, beanies and gloves for a three night getaway in early May. Which technically is almost summer, but as we discovered, feels anything but summer-ish!

The yurt was awesome. It had a properly functioning heavy wooden door all built into a heavy duty, round, canvas sided, glorified tent! It had carpet which covered the whole floor, so you needn’t get cold tootsies AND kept out any cold draughts. It had a circular window in the roof peak so we could see the stars at night while laying in bed. It had a cooker (inside!), a camp cupboard, clothes airers (with enough room to have them up inside) and two futon lounges which pulled down to beds. We had an outside firepit, a communal kitchen if the weather turned sour, fresh farm eggs and a proper bathroom (I don’t function well if there isn’t a decent shower!) All surrounded by the beautiful Dorset countryside of rolling hills, farm animals, English pubs, quaint villages and the seaside just a stones throw away.

• 

• 

We arrived late on a Friday night in pouring rain, and cooked our dinner inside: alternatively wafting the front door to drive out the cooking fumes! That night we went to sleep with the aroma of fried bacon – which was supposed to be tomorrow morning’s breakfast, but needs must. We were all rugged up in our thermals and sleeping bags – the boys even sleeping in their beanies! It was cold, but we were warm and had the right gear. Another family arrived after us and I’d say froze all night. After surviving a long and cold night with crying kids, they packed up their Ikea highchairs and strollers the following morning (yet not a sleeping bag in sight?!), sacrificed the 2-night stay requirement and hightailed it home. Camping in England. It’s not for everyone!

So besides eating Tesco sausages and toasting marshmallows every night on our outside firepit, we discovered lots more that Dorset had to offer:

– Bluebell woods: Being autumn, we still had the opportunity to seek out those beautiful, fragile flowers adorning the floor of England’s most ancient woodlands. Bluebells grow in places sheltered from the sun, where it’s all a bit damp and off the beaten track. We found these bluebell woods and just marvelled at the purple carpet spreading amongst trees and rolling down hills. It really was a stunning sight to see, so vivid and gorgeous. We found a spot to picnic without crushing the flowers – they never will grow back in the same spot if they’re trodden on!

• 

• 

– Chalk carvings on the hillsides: We’ve seen quite a few of these on our travels, but I’m always impressed with the size of the carvings and the attention to detail – not to mention the maintenance required today to keep them from being grassed over! This was a funny one – Hamish’s comment ‘he has a big willy!’ Just a tad different to the horses we usually see carved into the hillsides!

– Swanage railway and heritage steam train: I don’t know what child doesn’t love a steam train – ours are no exception! Manned by passionate volunteers, it was like stepping back in time when buying tickets and jumping aboard an old puffin’ locomotive to travel through the picturesque valley of south east Dorset. The ten-mile branch line from Wareham to Corfe Castle that we were on was opened in 1885 when Queen Victoria was on the throne – it has since been lovingly restored and is a treasure to the area.

– Corfe Castle: We departed the Swanage train at Corfe station, and immediately fell in love with this gorgeous little village. Corfe Castle dominates the village and all cobble streets, lined with tea houses; bookshops; museums; beer gardens; tourist shops and decorated with bunting galore, lead back to the Castle’s drawbridge. This is also where our love of All Places National Trust, began. The Castle is a fortified ruin now, but back in the day was both a Saxon stronghold and a Norman fortress. The Castle is over 1,000 years old and has also been a Royal palace. Its medieval appearance is now a tumble down, romantic ruin as a result of the English civil war and Cromwell. Always Cromwell!

Luckily for us, the day we visited Corfe Castle heralded a re-enactment of a skirmish between the Saxons and Vikings at the Castle. There were a number of differently themed drama skits taking place around the castle that were really, very entertaining for kids and adults alike. Within the grounds of the castle a living history encampment was set up as being representative of a typical market day of the time. Billowing white calico tents were manned by people in traditional attire, demonstrating their crafts in leather tanning, herbs and grain trading, basket weaving, spinning and dyeing wool, dressmaking, cooking, weaponry creation and combat (scabbards and arrows and battles), wood carving and games and old fashioned entertainment. It was so cleverly done and a fantastic immersive experience. All the people who work to bring these ‘dark ages’ to life are members of a community known as Ordgar. It’s a family thing – there was a smattering of little children part of the re-enactment also, running around barefoot in little white scraps of material with crazy hair and dirty faces! Adorable.

• 

• 

While Anthony and I loved Corfe Castle, we did find it a difficult day with the boys. There were whingy and cold on the hill and didn’t fully appreciate the experience – at one point, I turned,  and said to Anthony ”today is a really hard day’!’ and as it turned out, another dad heard me and commiserated – we all have those days! Shortly after though, the boys discovered the children’s activity trail and happily followed the clues, rubbed coins with lead and clambered around the ruins while Anthony and I marveled at the views in all directions and explored every nook and cranny of the castle and its surrounds with them. That motto plays out again: happy kids = happy parents!

– The resort town of Lyme Regis: We moved from the rolling hills of the Dorset countryside to the ‘Pearl of Dorset’ – Lyme Regis – a lovely seaside town on Lyme Bay on the English Channel coast at the Dorset-Devon border. Lyme Regis is at home on the Jurassic Coast, a World Heritage Site, and is well known for its many fossils embedded in the Blue Lias rock of the cliffs and on the beaches. The town was really busy that day (long weekend…fossil festival!) and we parked on the hill as we drove along the meandering road leading you into the town proper. A stop at the ice-cream shop was enough to encourage the boys to keep walking until we discovered the rocky beach and Cobb Harbour. We had a short stint attempting to fossil hunt before we realised the boys’ whining of the day before was a prelude to them generally feeling poorly with colds today! A photo opp doing doing our best ‘Broadchurch’ pose (TV series – check it out), a walk along the promenade and a scramble over the harbour walls; a quick poke around the shops and we were looking forward to getting back to the yurt farm for some R&R.

– Durdle Door & Lulworth Cove: this was spectacular. I was so excited to see the famous limestone arch. It was a bit of a drive to get there – the boys fell asleep along the way and were dead to the world when we arrived. We let them sleep and I dashed down the path with a promise to Anthony I would take heaps of pictures for him. How is this for natural beauty? The chalk cliffs…the scalloped coves…Durdle Door itself – utter gorgeousness. But while it was stunning it was also slightly terrifying – those cliffs were so steep and there were plenty of moments when I thought it best I didn’t have two little boys with me. Breathtaking in more ways than one! Stick to the paths people! Stick to the paths…

• 

• 

– Taking the scenic route home: we detoured slightly to come home via the New Forest. The New Forest is a national park and is one of the largest remaining tracts of unenclosed pasture land, heathland and forest in Southern England. Once a royal hunting ground for William the Conqueror, the Park covers parts of Wiltshire, Dorset and Hampshire. But truth be told, I just wanted to see the ponies! The New Forest pony roams freely and is a semi-wild breed of the British Isles. There are about 5,000 ponies in total in the New Forest and they’ve been around for about 2,000 years. It didn’t take us long to spot some! It wasn’t the best weather day and the ponies we did see were doing their best to huddle in groups and stay out of the rain. We tried to reimagine the dreary, drizzly and barren landscape as a wilderness of idyllic glades, ancient woodland, open moors and forest trails – but it was hard from the confines of our warm, dry car! Which is why the New Forest goes on the list of ‘places we must visit again’!

The Blairs

Road tripping Europe with three generations – Part II

We arrived in Munich late in the afternoon after 8 solid hours of driving. The boys were absolute treasures that day and did not stop talking, singing and giggling the whole way. Such happy little travellers they were that day – that doesn’t happen all the time so we took it! Munich was hot and we wanted a walk – I won’t lie: possibly in the direction of the nearest outdoor beer hall. We didn’t have to go far before we stumbled upon the Englischer Garten and found the Chinesischer Turm – the Chinese Tower – in a large public park in the centre of Munich. The Tower was closed…what a pity…conveniently, the beer garden was right next door! Afternoon steins turned into pork knuckle and sausages for dinner followed by more steins. The boys played in the play park within the beer garden and it was happy days in the glorious sunshine and leafy surrounds. The place was heaving though and Angus came tearing towards our picnic table from the park, declaring through sobbing tears ‘there are too many German kids!!’ Communicating playground etiquette in anything other than english proved a problem for this 3 year old!

We spent 4 days in Munich and loved every one of them. We were experts at taking the bus and metro around the city by the end of our stay, visiting all sorts of places:

– The famous Glockenspiel at the Rathaus in Marienplatz, the main square in Munich. The clock tower houses motorised figurines that dance and joust, spin and twirl to entertain the masses two times a day. The music was just so lovely and charming and it was a spectacle to see, although we all came away with cricks in our necks from looking upwards for so long!

 

– Perusing the outdoor summer markets, ‘Viktualienmarkt’, and sampling the German street food trade. This local farmers market has evolved into a popular gourmet location selling fresh local produce and handicrafts. Anyone for lederhosen?!

– Munich’s beer halls: Augustiner-Keller was a popular choice and we spent a happy night here! The most wonderful thing was, the sun didn’t go down until after 9pm. Loads of families were out and about and everyone was so friendly. The men serving the beer and food I found to be extremely efficient and maybe a bit gruff – you needed to know what you wanted before you got to the head of the que! These outdoor bars and restaurants ran like clockwork serving the crowds – they were very good at what they did.

– The Deutsches Museum was an unexpected highlight and was housed in a splendidly grand old building, opening up into the most modern and light-filled science and technology museum. The Kids’ Kingdom was hands-on awesomeness with its giant guitar, pulleys and even a mini canal complete with moveable lochs. The maritime, electrical power and aircraft exhibitions were amazing – we could easily have spent a full day here. Plus, it was nice and cool in here…my oh my is Munich hot in the summer time!

– We loved watching surfers ride the Eisbach, a small channel of the Isar River that runs through Munich’s central park. A continuous, ice-cold wave rolls through the channel all day long, attracting brave surfers prepared to drop right in – no paddling required! So random but so addictive to spectate.

Anthony and his parents took a day trip to Dachau to visit the concentration camp memorial site. As expected, this was a sombre and sobering experience. The boys and I took a train to Hellabrunn Zoo, Munich’s zoological garden on the river Isar. Which in stark contrast, was an exciting day. We saw polar bears and penguin displays and my favourite, the pink flamingoes. The Birds of Prey show was breathtaking, showcasing the impressive flying skills of these birds. But unfortunately for us, all talks were in German, punctuated by Hamish: ‘what are they saying mum?’ Oh…not for the first time have I wished my German language skills were better!

We left Munich and crossed the border into Austria, almost sad to say goodbye to this lovely city. South-west Bavaria and Austria proved a lush, mountainous region that was thankfully, a few degrees cooler. We made it to the village of Hohenschwangau, home to Neuschwanstein castle, nestled in the crevice of a rugged hill. I’ll be honest: I had been wanting to visit this castle since high school. I thought I was prepared for the crowds…I know the Americans love it – it being Walt Disney’s inspiration for the Sleeping Beauty castle. But oh my, I was not prepared for the flocks of tourists crawling all over this place. As many as 6,000 tourists visit the palace everyday in summer, and we were right in the peak of it. We arrived at lunch time and I couldn’t get tickets for entry until 7pm that night! I wasn’t prepared to do that with the boys so late in the day, and was almost resigned to giving up on my dream. Until an American student working at the castle said she could organise me tickets for entry at 8am the following morning. That we could do. After thanking her profusely, we escaped the village and the throngs of visitors, horses and carts, tacky tourist shops and hotels and drove to a ski chalet in the mountains. After the unashamedly touristy attraction that Neuschwanstein was, the chalet that was home for the night was almost a sanctuary. This was Sound of Music country absolutely. We heard cow bells in the mountains and everything! It was beautiful, peaceful, awe-inspiring country and those mountains took my breath away with how steep and green they were. We agreed right there and then we absolutely had to come back to Austria and see more of this most gorgeous of countries.

But alas, 3 years on, we never did come back.

We do however, have fantastic memories of a short time spent in Austria. We had a great time exploring Neuschwanstein castle the following morning and while it was busy, it wasn’t heaving and we weren’t at risk of loosing the boys in the crowds! The climb up the mountain pass was difficult and was done at a half jog to meet the strict time entries for tours. Lugging Angus on his back had Anthony in a sweat at the top and Hamish struggling to meet me stride for stride! But it was worth it – the palace really was spectacular and its location was just so picturesque and divine. It was definitely a must do!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Our last couple of days we spent in Luxembourg. It proved impossible to top Austria, but we did have some memorable experiences:

– Getting impossibly lost on Luxembourg’s roads. Really, the roads were terrible. Half of them were closed with no apparent detours. The GPS didn’t seem to recognise Luxembourg at all. In the end we decided hang it, we ARE going to drive down this road which is barricaded off, otherwise we were never going to make it to our accommodation before nightfall! Vianden, a little town by the river in the north of Luxembourg, just near the border with Germany, was our destination for the next two nights.

– Catching a chairlift up the mountain in Vianden and soaring high above the tree tops! The panoramic views were spectacular, even if I was gripping my almost 5 year old’s hand in sheer terror of how high we were! Why is it when you’re up that high, you’re worried you’ll drop something? Or your shoe will fall off?! Your sense of hearing becomes super strong and you can hear conversations in the valley below you?

– Poking about in the castle at Viandens’ hilltop. The castle dominates the little hamlet, jutting out from the mountainside in all its Gothic and Romanesque style glory. The Great Hall was spectacular with its cut out arch windows high on the hill. It almost felt like we were transported to Lord of the Rings and Galadriel might appear from nowhere. The sky was clear, the valley was eerily quite. Luxembourg was worth it just for this.

Our last day was a mammoth driving day. After wasting all sorts of time trying to escape the country of Luxembourg and it’s terrible roads, it was onwards through a chilly Belgium and into France. We were cutting it fine to meet the ferry to England, and still had Anthony’s parents to pick up from a train station in Calais! There was no time for talking as we careened in on two wheels to pick them up…phew they were waiting outside…right you need to nurse your suitcases until we get to the dock…

And in our usual style, we made it to the ferry and breathed a huge sigh of relief with just minutes to spare…we drove straight on up the ramp and onto the boat! And with that it was goodbye France and hello to the rolling hills of south east England! All in all a highly successful, multi generational, multi lingual European experience which has left its stamp on all of us.

P.S. I found the puppet theatre in Munich…Sadly, all the puppeteers were on summer vacation. Would you believe it?!

 

Road tripping Europe with three generations – Part I

Winter had finally released its grip on England. The blossom trees were out and it was heating up – summer was on its way and not a bit too soon! We spent two weeks in Germany in the summer of 2014. 2014 – I can’t believe it was so long ago! Before we had school age children: Hamish was 5 and Angus was 3. When it was still within the realms of possibility to pack the boys up and not be concerned with school terms and work deadlines. Now that was a year of freedom!

The extended family was on board for this trip, being Anthony’s parents and us four – three generations of family road tripping around Europe…

Our adventure was a tad more than just Germany. Our itinerary went a bit like this: Windsor to Reims (France) then to Rothenburg in Bavarian Germany, then on to Munich before parting ways: Marea and Doug to Paris while we continued on to Austria and Luxemborg, before meeting up again in Calais for the ferry ride back to the shores of England.

We really put our beloved Hector car through its paces with this trip – all six of us piled in and off we went towards Dover, confident that we knew how to get there, we’ve done it before. And then we took a wrong turn in search of a toilet for a three year old who decided in the end he didn’t really need to go but that’s ok isn’t it mum and dad? Grumble grumble, then break neck speed to that ferry terminal with phew, no que at customs!

After a day of travelling through fairly uninteresting French motorway countryside, our first overnight stay was in the city of Reims. This was an unexpected-lovely type of town. There was no doubting we were in France when we glanced up at the gorgeous Parisian architecture – all sandstone coloured buildings, tiny black wrought iron balconies and red-flower window boxes. Reims has a light rail which weaves its way through town on tracks that look almost bedded down in lush turf. We took a non-purposeful trip around town for the benefit of two little boys, but checked out the rest of what Reims had to offer:

– Possibly the biggest Cathedral I’ve ever been in – the 13th century Notre Dame de Reims really was magnificent and very interesting. 25 Kings of France were crowned here. The stained glass windows alone are worth seeing (and even Doug thought it pretty impressive! Which is impressive in itself!)

– Porte de Mars: an ancient Roman triumphal arch dating from the 3rd century. Located where you find evidence of Roman occupation in these modern times – just stuck in the middle of town! We hung about here for ages, the history is just staggering, and we had the whole place to ourselves (a rarity in Europe).

 

– And possibly the most fun – visiting a champagne house! Reims and its vicinity is home to many champagne houses including Taittinger, Ruinart, Veuve Clicquot and Pommeray. Most of which I’d heard of but who ever gets to taste these? We visited the Mumm champagne house – aptly named as we visited on Anthony’s mum’s birthday. We all really enjoyed the tour down into the cellars and learning the process of making champagne and of course the tastings at the end. Champagne is made of red grapes and the bottles are best stored lying down – that’s all the education I can take away!

It was great fun poking around in the dark, musty and cold cellars and marvelling at the age of some of those bottles. The labyrinth of tunnels underground is astounding – apparently during war time you could walk from one side of the city to the other completely underground. If those walls could talk…

The inspiration for this road trip came from a motorcycle travelogue Anthony and I had watched, covering what is known as the Castle Route and the Romantic Road from Germany to the Czech Republic. We chose a bit of this journey to build into our own, and headed from France to Rothenberg – deep into Bavarian Germany. Which meant Autobahn driving. Anthony was in his element, just loving it…I was not. But gee did we cover some km’s in a few hours. I know you’re asking – 160km. And more stops than usual for refilling the petrol tank!

Rothenberg is really a ‘couples’ destination. We knew that, and knew it would be impossible to find any accommodation for our large family group. Which is how we found ourselves staying at Helmut’s place, a rural German guesthouse just 5 minutes out of town. Helmut’s place really was like stepping back in time: everything wood panelled, dead animals adorning the walls, low beams, creaky floorboards, big heavy doors, a bit dark! But very clean. And very hospitable and some lovely hard boiled eggs for breakfast every morning. And a pop up bar after 5pm and the chance to talk farms with Helmut in broken English.

Rothenberg was beautiful and picturesque and romantic and all those things we imagined it would be. It was truly a fairy tale town and we had a great time exploring. Our highlights:

– Climbing the heady heights of the Town Hall and squeezing through the hole at the top to see the most beautiful view over Rothenburg – the town walls enveloping an abundance of red roofs and cobbled streets.

– Walking the walls of this town and meandering down little lane ways – even better at night on the Night Watchman tour sans children. Rothenburg’s Night Watchman had us roaming the streets back in the day when the city was actually locked up overnight. Such a fun tour and lots of little gruesome, humorous and scary little tales of life in medieval Bavaria. And finishing it off with a couple of steins with a fellow pair of Aussies we met on the tour. In a bar. Called Hell. Awesome.

– Walking into a German bakery, pushing through the hoardes and ordering a couple of Schneeballen. Basically, a Schneeballen is a local specialty pastry snack that is made in the shop window in all sorts of different flavours. The boys loved watching them being made and then devouring them. I loved practising my German, and loved seeing the appreciation in the baker’s face when he served ME who was trying really hard to be understood in German, in a bakery FULL of tourists, mainly of the loud or rude variety. I reckon I made his day! As he made mine.

– Visiting the original Kathe Wolhfahrt Christmas store. This was really a Christmas village, jam packed with traditional German Christmas ornaments, nut crackers, incense smokers and cuckoo clocks. Just stunning, and so beautiful at any time of year for lovers of all things decorative and festive. The Franconian village-inside-a-store was complete with snow covered houses, revolving Christmas trees, thousands of twinkling stars and winding cobble stone ‘streets’. Streets in which Anthony’s mum got herself impossibly lost and quite possibly a bit overwhelmed with all things Christmassy!

– Checking out some more of the towns and villages surrounding Rothenburg. More half timbered houses, castles and turrets. All different, all just as beautiful. Schwabisch Hall was a highlight, as was Neuenstein and the castle there we stumbled upon. In the Hohenlohe district in Baden-Wurttemberg. What a mouthful. Tours in German and English left on the half hour, and we were guided around by a funny little pipe smoking man who sold the tickets and took the tours, rather Faulty Towers like. The German spiel about all the artefacts was of much longer duration than the English translation…we were 6 Aussies in a group of about 25 German speakers…not too much time was spent on us!

 

I had promised the boys I would take them to a German puppet show. So while Anthony and his parents visited an exhibition on torture one day (gruesome, medieval and not for kids eyes!) the boys and I went in search of these famed puppets. If I’m honest this was a big draw card to Rothenburg. Apparently these two guys had a whole collection of beautiful marionettes and would put on a great show. ‘Had’ being the operative word. To our disappointment those two guys, who had been operating for years, closed doors last summer. Bugger. Oh well not to worry. I’ll find the doll and teddy bear museum that I actually really wanted to go to, and we will do that instead. I knew it was run by a little old lady and I was looking forward to it. We found it, but I have a sneaking suspicion the old lady must have died, because that was closed too! Peering through the windows, we found the marionettes though…

That day firmly cemented in my mind that Rothenburg really was a couples destination! Not to worry, there’s a puppet show in Munich…and that will be our next stop.

 

All things Christmassy in Stuttgart

I’m sitting at home in Windsor on Boxing Day in front of our open fire, eating these awesome little Haribo sweets shaped like castles and palaces in Germany. Our most recent trip to one of our favourite countries was last weekend – just a quick jaunt to visit the famous German Christmas markets, or more specifically, the ‘Stuttgarter Weihnachtsmarkt’.

I had been in Stuttgart for the week for work, while Anthony and the boys flew out on a cold Friday morning from Heathrow. While I was still toiling away and doing my best to be understood in a predominantly German speaking workplace (it was exhausting!) Anthony negotiated the U-Bahn and S-Bahn networks and took the boys to the Mercedes Benz museum. Which I hear was awesome – but how could you go wrong with cars and boys?!

 

We were later reunited at the Gasthof Trauber, just a little way out of the city centre. This was difficult to find if you are me: have no mobile reception, too many suitcases to carry and a hastily drawn mud map of where to find the accommodation in the dark at 4.30pm! It seems Anthony and the boys had more trouble though, and caught a train to the end of the line and that was with google maps…who would have thought there was another Gasthof Traube in Stuttgart?!

Over a meal of Wiener schnitzel and dumplings and other Schwabischer delights, I heard the boys’ tales of missed trains and cool cars and pretzels for lunch and mum what’s the German word for thank you? A lovely old man seated beside us in the guesthouse restaurant was taking particular interest in the boys and doing his best to communicate, in German. I was doing my best to translate. We understood each other for the most part, he said his goodbyes and we agreed we would be at breakfast at 8am the following morning.

Breakfast rolled around, and while we were tucking into a homely German buffet breakfast spread, we hardly noticed the old man from the night before shuffling in until he was nearly upon us. Bearing gifts, no less, for the boys, for Christmas. Speaking to the proprietor, we discover he lives in the neighbourhood and connects with the community through the guesthouse. Herr Wolfgang Richter we won’t forget you! Such a lovely gesture, particularly poignant at Christmas. We felt so welcome in this city. The boys were chuffed!

 

The Stuttgart Christmas markets are one of the oldest and also the largest in Germany. The stalls were beautiful; laden and overflowing with German food, gifts and Christmas decorations. We spent a whole day Saturday, wandering up and down the aisles. It was a real feast for the eyes. A tip would be to look up: the best decorative items were the elaborate displays on top of the stalls, on the rooves of the wooden chalet huts. Here we found Hansel and Gretel and the wicked witch, with a menacing, mechanical finger welcoming the children closer, lots of reindeer and winter wonderland scapes, angels, stars and sleighs and thousands of Christmas lights on an otherwise dark winters day!

The boys weren’t overly thrilled with trawling through markets. It was cold and probably didn’t get above 2 degrees all day; and it was busy. Lots and lots of people! But throw in some giant nut cracker soldiers, a spot of outside ice skating, hot chocolates (gluhwein for the adults), sugar waffles and bratwursts, and they were happy enough. A ride on a miniature steam train was a great way to end the day before we thawed out with dinner in a BrauHaus on Schlossplatz (Palace Square). Menu in English please; I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day!

Sunday saw us leaving the city and taking the S-Bahn to Esslingen, a little village on the outskirts of Stuttgart. Esslingen had their own version of Christmas markets in the old town, and these were the real deal. The ladies in the office had told me to go to Esslingen and I’m so glad I followed their advice. There were no tourists here, this was a locals haunt. The little village was gorgeous and the old town just stunning: plenty of half timbered houses and Germanic shop signs and cobbled streets!

The markets were traditional and had a Middle Ages or Medieval section – with people dressed up in traditional costume (which freaked the boys out a little). There was carnival bunting everywhere, old fashioned games for kids, fire breathing shows and traditional blacksmiths plying their trade. Carnival rides were man operated machines: the carousel spun around because someone was walking inside a tunnel and propelling the ride; a type of Ferris wheel rotated because two big burly men pulled it around – children clambered into these wooden crates sitting squarely on their bums, holding onto the rails. We had never seen anything like it! In the evening there is no electricity – just big lanterns and fire grates on metal poles – all very dark and foreboding. It was totally amazing and we found ourselves wishing we had visited Esslingen on the Saturday, and not the day we had to come home…

Our weekend was exhausting and delicious and fun. It was dark and beautifully romantic and ultimately very Christmassy! But it was also very cold and sometimes difficult for the boys to enjoy. They are getting older, too big to piggyback, more certain about what they want to do and better able to communicate it! I would be lying if I said there weren’t moments of ‘never again’ and ‘this is our last Europe trip’ while trying to negotiate train timetables, toilets, cold fingers and sore legs. But then I look back and see what they did get out of it: a knowledge of the train system and confidence in knowing which number to catch; an opportunity to practise another language; a chance to try (and love) new foods; an iceskate on an outside rink in front of a palace; a different currency; Herr Wolfgang Richter, and watching and listening to their mother negotiate a language other than English and in their eyes at least, thinking that’s awesome 🙂

 

A jolly good time at the fair!

Carter’s Steam Fair came to town the other week. And while I don’t usually blog about ‘just a single day’, opting instead for a marathon account of our latest adventure (that will come, they are backing up!) I felt this particular day was just too good not to share.

This one will be short and sweet. Just like the steaming hot cinnamon donuts that taste awesome out of a carnival caravan…I hadn’t had a hot donut in years…although I have to say the boys didn’t like them! I blame myself. Too much home made prepared snacks like cut up fruit. What was I thinking!

Anyway, back to the fair. A pinch myself moment: Standing in the tokens line I got talking to a man who was filling up a plastic bag with coin tokens while his kids shoved the rest in their pockets – that would do them for many, many rides I thought. He explained they lived just over the back fence there and the kids had been hassling to go to the fair for days. Every day in the week prior when the show folk had been setting up, the kids would come down and watch. It turned out the cast of Midsomer Murders were in town to film an episode. The episode is set in the gorgeous little town of Holyport where we found ourselves, just 4 miles from Windsor. It has a village green and two pubs facing into the village green, while the fair is in the middle. It really is very picturesque and very English.

The production team asked the kids to film a scene on the haunted house ride. So, these ghost ride virgins, as their father put it, were suitably miked up to record terrifying screams. Except the kids froze in real terror and uttered not a sound…Nothing was recorded when they played it back. And they refused to have another go – the poor things were terrified! So while laughing along with this well spoken English man in his tweed jacket, I thought to myself…Midsomer. Here. All those years of watching the show and dreaming of living in a little English village with a thatched roof and Tudor walls and riding a step-through bicycle with a trilling bell while taking the boys to school in a little village-cosy school house where they called them into class with a brass bell… Well, while none of that ever actually came to pass, at least a film set location had. Pity we’d missed the actual filming! But happy to know it was happening here anyway!

I can see why Midsomer Murders would use the fair as a backdrop. Carters Steam Fair is a traditional, vintage, family owned carnival that travels all over the Home Counties – those counties that border Greater London. A perfect location for some grizzly village murders, small town eccentricity and beautiful English backdrops. Over the years the family have collected all these vintage rides and restored them back to their former glory – a bit of British Heritage that you can touch and not just look at. The paintwork and artistic flair on the rides is beautiful. The colours are exuberant, the lights are sparkly in the darkening afternoon skies. The steam organ of the vintage Jubilee Steam Gallopers (read: carousel) belts out carnival tunes at high speed, creating an atmosphere of gaiety and fun. It’s like stepping back in time. And then whoosh! up goes a puff of steam, helping to propel and generate any number of rides.

Some of these rides date back to the late 19th century. Anthony braved the Victory Dive Bomber that could well have been used in the war it was so old. The rock n roll dodgems were awesome as they always are – who doesn’t love the dodgem cars (bumper cars over here mum, bumper cars). The Paramount Chair-O-Plane was like walking on air except Hamish thought he might accidentally kick someone in the head! The White Waltham High Flyers, or swing-boats, were unexpectantly fun, being designed for two people facing each other and making them go by pulling ropes. Such a simple design but something our two boys adored and didn’t want to get off. Proving once again that kids will always love the simple stuff. The staff were very generous and let them stay on for ages.

That was our day at the fair, and here’s hoping we can catch it again next year. For now, I’m keeping my eye out for the new episodes of Midsomer Murders. The village pub of Holyport features prominently in the filming of the episode we just missed, and was renamed from George On The Green to The Black Dog. So there’s your clue!

An interlude of Royal proportions

Something exciting happened today – we saw the Queen. It’s Saturday today (and for the first time ever I am hoping to publish a post on the same weekend the events actually happened). I digress; back to the Queen. Today marked the last day of the Royal Ascot races for 2015 – Ascot arguably being the Queen’s favourite event on the racing calendar.

Ascot is about 10 minutes from Windsor and the Queen takes a lovely scenic route to get there every day for the five days of racing: first leaving Windsor Castle and heading down the Long Walk by car procession (which is one of the most scenic landscapes in all of England – the Long Walk being flanked on either side by Windsor Great Park and looking down upon an avenue of magnificent trees all the way to Snow Hill and the Copper Horse). The Queen then changes into a horse drawn carriage for the final leg to Ascot racecourse. I’m not a royal stalker – I promise (!)

We were given a hot tip last year and positioned ourselves excellently to see the whole royal regalia of horses and carriages. It was awesome and such a spectacle of pomp and ceremony. This year, alas, it was drizzling and we were running a bit late so we parked and high tailed it down a short cut that gets us to some gates about halfway down the Long Walk. Not five minutes later two security vehicles whizz by and we cross our fingers that the Queen wasn’t in there – they were going so fast ain’t nobody would see her!

On the way to Ascot – 2014

Glancing over at the Gatekeeper, who was peering through some binoculars in the direction of the Castle, gave me confidence that we hadn’t missed the royal cars. Bless him, this same Gatekeeper then told us which side of the road to stand on to see her directly. And nobody was around us. And through the gates she came. And we waved like the crazies we are and she smiled and waved back.

Such a thrill! I will never tire of living in this town when stuff like this just happens on our doorstep. We had been to visit Windsor Castle just this morning. This followed Hamish declaring, upon waking up, that he really wanted to see Queen Mary’s Dolls House at the Castle, and then threw in for good measure, a need to see King Henry VIII’s armour. We definitely got our royal fix today!

And just because I have some photos I want to share – here are a couple more times I’ve been lucky enough to see the Queen. The very first time was as part of a State Parade, when the President of Ireland met with an English monarch for the first time on English soil. The horses on parade were enormouse and beautiful, rattling away in all their armoury. They wound all the way up the High Street and into Windsor Castle. We saw Prince Charles and Camilla that day too!

And another day that same week, the Queen and Prince Phillip left St George’s Chapel in the grounds of Windsor Castle when we just happened to be attending a kids arts and crafts day in the Moat Room at Windsor Castle. The coincidence is astounding. I jest – yes it was coincidence, but I did make the boys wait with me for forty odd minutes to see her walk out of a church and into a car which took all of thirty seconds. I tell myself they are developing patience!

Sorry, I don’t have photos of the day Sophie Countess of Wessex (or as Hamish described her: ‘a real Princess mummy’) came by the school, and all the children lined up along the road to wave. Or the day this year that Hamish’s school class was invited to visit the Royal Household Cavalry at their barracks in town to meet ‘real soldiers, with guns and tanks and everything’.

But I do have some photos of the 800 year anniversary of the signing of the Magna Carta at Runnymede. Just last weekend, a flotilla of boats followed the Queen’s barge, the Gloriana, down the River Thames, through Windsor to Runnymede. Such an historic event and we were so fortunate to catch some of it. We were on our bikes that day and just popped down to the river.

I don’t feel so removed from my teenager self, pouring over my grandmother’s New Idea and Woman’s Day magazines and joking with Nan about ‘what Queenie is wearing today’. But fast forward 15 odd years (actual more like 20 years) and I wish Nan could see where I am now. She’d have a good laugh!

I still pinch myself that we live here.

The royal history is all around us. And we love it!

Messing about in boats

The boys and I have made many visits to a special museum on the banks of the river at Henley-on-Thames. This museum houses a Wind in the Willows permanent exhibition, complete with a walkie-talkie retelling of the story and torches to guide you through the dark bits in the forest (for those that remember the story). One of my most favourite quotes in the story is this one:

‘Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.’

– Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Which also seems to be a perfectly apt backdrop for me to re-tell our own story on the river – not the Thames, but the River Avon. And not in a canary yellow gypsy caravan, but in a canal boat (which incidentally was yellow). Or as Anthony’s dad described it: a caravan on water!

Anthony had taken a serious interest in wanting to do a canal boat holiday. Anthony’s dad jumped at the idea and thought it fantastic to do something really different on their visit to see us in summer. I took a fair amount of convincing – all I could envisage was two little boys getting a bit too excited and falling over the edge. After confirming yes, the canal boat had kid sized life jackets, I was on board! 4 nights was agreed, the biggest canal boat was located, the most picturesque waterway was identified (which also had to include a good selection of watering holes along the way) and we were locked in. No pun intended!

We drove to our pick up point at Stratford-Upon-Avon and unpacked one very full car, into one very beautiful boat – which sat a fair bit lower in the water after all the food and drink was stowed on board! There was going to be no Tesco’s by the canal, and we were prepared for anything and everything! After some lessons on navigating, reversing, turning, canal boating etiquette and how to operate those all important locks, Anthony spent some time with the owner of the boat and a map of the canal, pointing out where we intended to get to. Which was a fair way for a boat that had a top speed of 4 miles per hour. The owner of the boat hemmed and hawed, shook his head and strongly advised us not to go THAT far, on fear of not making it back in time. And then off we set, full of excitement, and maybe just a bit of nervousness when approaching our first lock!

What followed was a lovely afternoon putting our way along, saying hi to this boater and that boater, scrambling out to tackle a lock and determining where we would spend our first night. A suitably gorgeous aspect was located at the tail end of a long line of beautifully decorated boats, a simple meal of sausages was had after which we high tailed it to the Mary Arden Inn on the Green in the village of Wilmcote. This was very Shakespearian country we were in and we walked past Shakespeare’s mother’s house and farm (Mary Arden’s farm). We have to go back there, it was all so lovely and so English, what with its Tudor buildings, village Green and stone bridges.

Day 2 was a wet and drizzly day and I was glad I wasn’t the captain. Anthony and Doug soldiered along, manning the tiller and opening the locks with umbrella in hand. I was on kid patrol and was quite happy with that job. I was inside. Anthony’s mum, Marea, was popping inside the cabin and out, when weather prevailed, delivering the all important cups of tea! We debated about whether we should press on to try and get to Kingswood Junction, our target turning-about point, or turn around at the winding hole at Preston Baggot. We decided we would see what the weather was like in the morning. Once we made the decision to ‘go the whole hog’ that was it – we were committed. Due to the narrowness of the canal, there was nowhere else to turn around until Kingswood Junction. It continued to rain through the night.

And thankfully, that was all the bad weather we had. By Day 3 we were all pro’s at this narrow boating experience and each had a turn at the wheel, and each handed it back to Anthony at the sight of a lock or a tiny stone bridge I might add! Negotiating an old canal bridge was like threading a needle – our boat was 64 foot long and steering and acceleration are from the back end. It was only for the most practically minded and confident drivers (which ruled me out!)

The days were spent enjoying the English sunshine at either end of the boat, chatting to friendly people we met along the way, stopping in for a pint and lemonade at a canal side pub. When we wanted some exercise after a few hours on board, us cabin crew would get out and walk the tow path for a few locks.It was all rather relaxing with just the hum of the motor and dragon flies skipping across the sill water. The boys had an opportunity to throw a line in, I even got a chance to squeeze in a few cheeky chapters of my book! The scenery was beautiful – barrel roofed lock cottages, long summer evenings, families of ducks following in the wake of the boat.

So did we make it to Kingswood Junction? You betcha we did. We celebrated at a beauty of a pub (the Navigation Inn) located canal side and selling hand-pulled Guinness on tap. I’m pretty sure that was the sole motivation Anthony and Doug needed! That evening when we bedded down for the night, we heard a canal chap in the boat behind us playing the squeeze box. Chatting to him earlier, we had discovered he was a permanent resident on the waterways. I likened him to a leprechaun – he was a tad eccentric! There were a few of them around these parts!

Our return trip was lovely as was the trip out – past the familiar villages and the Bearley aquaduct (this was a real highlight – don’t look down!). We said good-bye to the English countryside as we approached the industrial outskirts of Stratford on our final night, and got in amongst it (and really tested the navigation and steering skills) when we took the boat into the Stratford Basin, right in the centre of town. Another night, another pub – I can’t remember if it was the Red Lion or the Pen and Parchment, but it was good! And then we were home, with a ton of photos of the English countryside, and a stack of fun memories.

Canal boats, or narrow boats, are making a resurgence in recent times. The canals all over the UK had fallen into disrepair after WW2 and sadly, a lot of them failed to connect to their old networks or waterways, and therefore proved impassable. Volunteer enthusiasts began restoring them for pleasure boaters in the 1970s and this work is still continued today, with a substantial network of interconnecting, fully navigable canals across the country. Ours was a great trip. But as good friends of ours warned us before we committed to the trip – you’ve gotta get the ratio of kids to adults just right. Our mix was perfect – plenty of hands on deck to man the locks, kids and meals – and still have a relaxing and fun time.

So who’s coming with us next time?!

Beside the seaside in Cornwall

It’s the dead of winter in England right now. Anthony and I get up and go to work and drop the boys at breakfast club at 8am. The sun gets up well after all of us and says goodnight at 4pm. The days are short, overcast and cold. Scraping ice off the windscreen in the morning AND the evening is part of the routine. The winter is dragging on. Nothing grows. Mud is everywhere. Wellies become regular footwear for children. After Australia, I wonder: how do people live like this?!

At about the point I’ve had enough of it: the cold, the dark, the dampness and the hibernation – winter amazingly seems to let go and eases up on everything. The days become longer. There are less frosts in the morning. And we start thinking of holidays in the SUN! Oh the sun – how we miss you right now!

Which brings back memories of our holiday to Cornwall last summer with my mum and dad. Four adults and two kids, a promise of some lovely weather (a bit unpredictable in England – that’s probably an understatement – very dicey is a better description, but we were lucky) and a huge holiday house overlooking the stunning Atlantic Ocean, were the ingredients for a terrific short break away in June.

Our St Ives backyard

So here is where I confess to being an avid Doc Martin fan. It’s not just me – Anthony likes it too – and mum and dad put us onto the TV show to start with! So how could we possibly go to Cornwall without stopping at the town all the episodes are filmed at? Impossible – we couldn’t!

The fictional seaside town of Port Wenn is actually Port Isaac. I trawled the Internet for a ‘self guided Doc Martin walking tour’, found one, and off we set. The surgery – found it, Mrs Tischell’s pharmacy (actually a sweet shop) – tick, the primary school, Louisa’s house, the Large family restaurant – we saw it all, took a heap of photos in this beautiful little fishing village and had heaps of fun pointing out different scenes and TV locations! The village is tiny though – I was advised by a friend to park at the pay and display carpark just as you get into town and walk the rest. The little streets were impossibly narrow and meandering and so totally gorgeous – but there was no way Hector would have fitted down them!

We got to St Ives – on the north coast of Cornwall and almost at the tip of the southern most peninsula in England – in the late afternoon with still hours of sunshine ahead of us (June – sun goes down around 9pm? How dreamy). We immediately thought yep, we’ve picked the right place, this is lovely – my mum was mentally taking note of which shops she just HAD to visit as we drove through town. Two little boys to bed; drinks and nibbles on the terraced garden; spectacular views out to sea and as far as the eye could see – and we could see why so many Brits come to Cornwall for their annual summer holidays.

Yes – Angus is asleep here!

The following day saw us drive some of the beautiful Cornish coastline and end up at St Michael’s Mount – a special little rocky island just a short way from the mainland, complete with its privately owned castle (still lived in) with a thriving community and locally made arts and crafts. We didn’t make it to the castle, but we did catch a little tinny out to the island which was good fun. When the tide is out, you can actually walk the causeway all the way to the island. We took the lazy option (that, or swim!) but could see what looked like a yellow brick road emerging from the water on the return trip.

But in my mind, the highlight of our trip to Cornwall was our visit to the Minack Theatre. Located almost at Lands End, near Penzance, the Minack Theatre is an open air theatre constructed on a rocky granite outcrop jutting straight out into the ocean. The sun was shining and it was quite warm, but a bit chilly in the breeze blowing from the ocean. But as far as you could see was the most magical blue and turquoise water. The theatre seats are all terraced and shaped by granite stone with grass inlays – and in a country where the grass is always green – it was pretty comfy! I had bought tickets to a Noel Coward play for Mum and I – so in we went for the matinee performance while Dad, Anthony and the boys had a picnic lunch and played in the sand far below our rocky outcrop.

The show was really great, hugely entertaining and in the most spectacular surroundings. Sometimes I didn’t know whether I should be watching the play or taking in the location. A bit of both really. I hadn’t seen a theatre production in years and forgot how much I enjoyed them. And to see a production in such a breathtaking area of the world was just spectacular, and really very special. Now we just need to find ourselves back down that way again so Anthony can see it. The theatre puts on kids shows in the holidays so that will need to go on the list of must do’s!

Back in St Ives on our final day, we enjoyed browsing the shops and checking out the local artist studios. Yes, St Ives is a tourist town, but gee it’s lovely. We picked up some homemade Cornish pasties from a tiny little shop which was more like a hole in the wall, and thought ‘where better to eat these than on the beach’. As it turned out, anywhere but the beach would have been a better option! The seagulls over here are, no joke, about four times the size of Australian seagulls. And ten times as courageous! We survived many dart attempts to snatch our pasties, but credit has to go to Angus, who wrestled with a seagull over his bread roll. And won. No creative license here, he snatched that bread roll back like it was the only food he was getting all day, and that particular seagull gave up and watched us from afar. After that, it was decided by all that it was probably a safer bet to eat our Cornish icecreams IN the ice creamery. Later on, I did happen to see one poor lady while eating her icecream near the harbour, happen to have one of those huge monsters land on her shoulder and have a peck of her icecream. As you can imagine, it frightened the life out of her! That’s it, I knew I didn’t like birds for a reason! Go Angus – you’re braver than your mother!

Everything about Cornwall was great. We all enjoyed our time in this beautiful part of the world. And we found an excellent cafe on our final morning before making the trek back to Windsor. Finding decent coffee in England is no easy feat! Top job Cornwall – we love you and are definitely coming back!

Holidays in Holland

Christmas and Holland with a side of Amsterdam – not the most popular choice for a Christmas holiday for most people, especially most people with kids! But the Netherlands was somewhere we wanted to visit, and we both had a good amount of time off work, and it was close to home. Decision made. Oh and did I mention there was plenty of accommodation available?

We found an awesome farm just outside of Amsterdam that would suit us nicely. That sorted, we packed up the car with 3 bikes, half of Tesco’s grocery department, a Christmas tree and the contents of Santa’s sleigh in the roof box and left at 6am (after a bedtime the night before of 1am and an awkward discussion of oh no…this stuff just ain’t gunna fit…it did, phew). We booked the euro tunnel this time instead of the ferry – this was much quicker, being a 35 minute crossing on the train. Hugely exciting for the boys – they were so looking forward to driving a CAR onto a TRAIN and going UNDER WATER! Do you stay in your car? Do you get out? Do you see the water? So many questions. For what it’s worth: you can get out, you can’t go anywhere except to the toilet train, and no you don’t see water. Still exciting (and quick!)

We did the 3 country traverse through France, Belgium and into the Netherlands and unpacked a very full Hector (the car) in fading light on Christmas Eve. Our accommodation was even more awesome than it looked on the website and here is where I do a plug because it is SO worth it. ‘Swanenburgh apartments’, located in the Purmer district in North Holland – do yourself a favour and stay here: Jos and Coba were fantastic hosts and our apartment was immaculate and perfectly set up. We have stayed in a lot of different places in Europe and the UK – and this one was right up there. We were happy to call it home for six nights!

What followed was a relaxing Christmas Eve as ALL presents were already wrapped. Santa’s plate was put out, stockings were laid carefully beside the beds, the magic reindeer dust was spread beside the canal out the front of our apartment, and two very excited little boys cuddled up in their single-beds-pushed-together, whispering into the night about when Santa might come. Well, Santa did come at about 11pm – I heard the boys talking to each other at 1am and upon visiting their room, they excitedly told me that Santa had already been (but that they’re weren’t going to peek until morning time). Unbelievable. They made that decision together, and dutifully went back to sleep until 8am. Pretty sure these kids aren’t normal!

The weather on Christmas Day was fairly atrocious which bothered us not one iota, wrapped up as we were in Thomas trains, Scalextric slot cars, a Christmas dinner fit for kings and skype and FaceTime sessions with the grandparents. It was a great, full day and the boys spent it inside, in their (new) pjs. SO much time to play with new toys 🙂

Boxing Day in the Purmer turned on a crisp, sunshiney day. You knew it was winter, but it was perfectly still and very enticing for a bike ride. We set out first for Edam, and peddled around this quaint little town. Unfortunately most of the shops were shut, being a public holiday – it would be great to see the cheese market in full swing on a Wednesday in summer. The canals provided a gorgeous reflection of Dutch architecture and lovely decorative buildings – and a healthy amount of shops selling the famous yellow waxed round of cheese! Onward to Volendam – a kilometre or so along the bike path. The riding was super easy across this vast, flat land, crisscrosses by canals. The bike paths were fantastic as you would expect for Holland. Hamish just LOVED the fact that bikes got their own miniature traffic lights at kid level.

Volendam – not much to say here other than it being on the water and super touristy. Tacky touristy, not nice touristy, and a particularly laddish vibe spilling out from the (very full) pubs. Volendam was also very busy with tour groups spilling out of boats. We jumped on a boat and made the crossing to Marken, an old fishing village that in years gone by was cut off from the mainland but is now attached via a peninsula. On arriving in Marken, we made the rookie mistake of going inside to the closest eatery on a promise of fish and chips and inside warmth (and instead got bad service and overpriced food). And here lies my strangest experience of Holland – the waiter told me not to say ‘please’. He said once was enough, but that I had said it five times (who counts?) and that it was just annoying now. He almost sounded offended by my good manners. You might say he was abrupt. You might say he was rude. He was Dutch. I was perplexed. PUH-LEESE!!! And from that point on I became more direct in my dealings – which I feel is bossy and arrogant, but perfectly acceptable here. Ah the culture differences – eye opening 🙂 But he was still rude…

Marken was lovely with its traditional Dutch fishing villas and harbour front. A particularly beautiful old section of the town around the church square was just divine with its traditionally painted houses in dark green with white windows frames. Onwards we pedalled to the lighthouse along a sparse, flat and fairly barren landscape. Not necessarily beautiful. This was ok as one look at our watches made us fair hike it back to the harbour to catch the last boat of the day. We made it within minutes, and in limited light back in Volendam at 4pm, we struggled back home with Hamish now on the tag-along, Angus lolling about in the bike seat asleep, along a very dark back country road with no lights. Not the safest – when the sun starts to fade, it happens fast!

The next morning we woke to howling winds, slanting rains…and it was so cold! And this was our designated Amsterdam day. We shelved that idea and instead headed south to Rotterdam. Half an hour down the road we noticed signs of snow: a dusting here, a sprinkling there, and then it was coming thick and fast and there were snow ploughs chucking up sprays of snow, closed lanes and marzipan icing on car roofs. Totally unexpected and just a little bit exciting! Slushy and white in the city, but beautiful. Cold, so cold! The Maritime Museum in Rotterdam was our retreat and we had a lovely visit. The kids section was great and had a suitably nautical feel for this ship building and haulage city. This outside play area has the kids moving shipping containers with cranes – pity it was so cold we couldn’t get outside!

Take Two on Amsterdam the following day was much more successful. Clear, blue skies and not a breath of wind – perfect bike riding conditions. Not wanting to navigate our own car and bikes around Amsterdam (Amsterdam is notoriously short in car spaces – they are hugely expensive and rumor has it that a car spot remains vacant in Amsterdam, on average, for 30 seconds) we drove to the Park n Ride and took a tram into the city. Absolutely the way to go – cheap and easy. Arriving in Amsterdam’s centre, we picked up a couple of bikes – not your average bikes, but a Bakfiet (or as the boys like to call it, a ‘bucket bike’) and a lovely cruiser for me.

These Bakfiet’s are awesome. The boys loved sitting up front and were easily entertained – Hamish even took a video of parts of the journey! They were as snug as bugs in rugs and just soaked it all in, while Anthony and I pedalled along getting us super lost in this really confusing city to navigate! Not as easy to ride bikes as you might think – a few times I found myself being railroaded into taking a path I didn’t want to. You have to act like a car – none of this pulling over and turning the bike around caper. We stumbled upon the Jordan district which was awesome, and saw some lovely old buildings sandwiched together along the canals. It was Sunday morning, 10am and the city hadn’t woken up yet, which was great for us. Lunchtime saw us at the Public Library of all places – but this was a library like no other – 7 floors of blissful reading where I could easily fill a day – a whole floor dedicated to kids (and I thought Windsor library was awesome) and a cafe on the top floor, with arguably the best views in Amsterdam (I wouldn’t know – we couldn’t get out onto the Terrace as it was all locked up – too cold!) and definitely the best food and surprisingly decent coffee.

Our afternoon saw us covering more kilometres on the bikes, which led us to Leidsplein, one of the city’s squares, and the location of a rather cute little ice rink. The ice rink was bordered on three sides by cafes and food stalls selling all manner of Dutch food and drinks and Christmas lights and music was everywhere. It was lots of fun and at least one boy enjoyed it (Angus – not so much. One heavy stack – heavy as I landed on top of him – and he was over it. Can’t blame him for that). In dwindling sunlight, but in an abundance of Christmas lights, we were back on the bikes and catching our last glimpses of this lovely city, it’s squares and Christmas markets. By this time, every man and his dog had taken to the streets and I was glad we were on the bikes. I won’t lie, I greatly enjoyed ringing my bell to get pedestrians off the bike path. In fact I think I was permanently ringing it for the last kilometre (where had these people come from?!)

No trip to the Netherlands would be complete without a visit to see some windmills. Zaanse Schans is the place to do this – only 10 minutes away from where we were staying, and all the windmills you need to see. We learnt what their purpose was, how old they were and anything else you might like to know about windmills! But the highlight of the day would have to be the clog making demonstration. The boys insisted we sit through this twice, with Hamish declaring that when he grows up to be a man, he wants to move to Holland and make clogs. Great, there’s a future in that I’m sure. It really was a surprisingly lovely day, with an unexpected view into some of the history of Holland. And an opportunity to pick up some cheese, munch on some ‘Hollandse Stroopwafels’ (Dutch syrup waffles – I LOVE these) and eat pancakes for lunch.

We all enjoyed our trip to Holland and winter was definitely a fine time to visit. It was fun checking the canals to see them begin to freeze over as the temperature dropped, and spotting windmills on car journeys, and cosying up every night and trying a new Trappist beer from neighbouring Belgium. But, it was also nice driving back into England and seeing the rolling hills of Dover as opposed to the flats of the Netherlands. A nice place to visit – maybe next time I’ll get to a museum!

Part II – Paris

We had booked TGV train tickets to take us from Toulouse in the south of France, up north to Paris. Making sure I booked the fastest route with no stops I thought yep – we can do this. 5 hours on a train is do-able with the boys. I’ll book us a nice booth seat for four with a table in the middle. I’ll pack plenty of food and card games, Oma and Poppy Rog will be across the aisle for a distraction/backup. What an adventure, it will be fun!

It started out quite nicely. The scenery was picturesque, the train left on time. A little bit slower than what I expected though – I thought this was like a bullet train but oh well, I’m sure it will speed up when we exit the city. That was the first sign things weren’t quite right. The air conditioning struggled. The sun beat in through the windows. There was no water in the taps in the toilet. We ran out of food and almost ran out of drinking water. The train actually decided to stop in Bordeaux. Then stopped in the middle of nowhere for close to an hour. There was an announcement in French, followed by much tsk tsk and groans. The boys were climbing the walls and after six hours we gave up trying to control the volume of their voices. Hamish learnt to count to 100, loudly. Every time he made a mistake, he started again from 1. And after 7 hours, we finally crept into Paris. Exhausted, hungry, irritable and and not really knowing whether we could get into our Airbnb apartment.

Fortunately we found our apartment. Mums relief at having found it without the owner meeting us was written all over her face! The apartment was compact, shall we say. And typically Parisian with a tiny little lift with double doors and concierge. It had everything though and was really close to the Metro in Montparnassee. I’m learning about this Airbnb thing. The apartment was owned by a family, who live there on a permanent basis judging by the photos, souvenirs and magnets on the fridge. All the personal effects were there to see, including dirty washing in the washing basket, as the boys discovered! The owners vacate their homes when they want to rent it out I suppose. Nice way to make a living. The toilet was hilarious – it was wall-papered on every side with realistic scenes of a forest. Behind the cistern were cylindrical lumps of wood, to represent trees we supposed, with a tiny little garden. It became a regular joke with the boys when they needed to ‘go and do a wee in the forest’.

Our first day proper in Paris was looking much brighter. Mum and Dad took the boys and Anthony and I took off to explore Paris! We got lost for hours in the Louvre and loved it. My only time to the Louvre was in my backpacking days, and unfortunately that day I chose to spend with shall we say – non art lovers. It was a rushed visit then, and I was desperate to spend more time and see more than just the Mona Lisa. Anthony and I both loved our time here, and broke it up with macaroons and coffee for morning tea. We just loved spending time together and having an uninterrupted conversation too.

The forecourt of the Louvre

We hear the boys had a great day and spent hours at the park, eating donuts and convincing Oma and Poppy Rog to buy them mixed-lollies-by-the-weight and let them ride the carousel. All those things they harass their parents for, but rarely get! Not that we minded, as by that stage we were probably at the Notre Dame and peering up in awe at the beautiful stain glass windows on the inside and the intricately detailed gargoyles on the outside.

We come back to the apartment and what do you know, mum and dad have both the boys sleeping, no easy feat and something I haven’t managed in about 18 months, just for one boy! Which is quite fortunate, as we later decided that the Eiffel Tower would be good to visit after dinner!

Napolean himself!

I have to say, the Eiffel Tower was probably the highlight of Paris. Mum took the boys to the top in the lift, while Anthony, Dad and I took the stairs to the second floor (easy), before taking the lift to the top (we weren’t lazy – there are no stairs beyond the second floor!) I think the idea was that we get there for dusk, but all I remember is looking out into an ocean of city lights and making out Parisian landmarks. The boys loved it, and Hamish really took it all in and was so excited. Time seemed to go by very quickly, before we realised we were actually going down in the last lifts for the day. Which felt like herding cattle through a cattle race – we were literally on the top of a pin head, being funnelled down with hundreds of others – tired boys in backpacks and on hips – to be deposited on the midnight streets of Paris, having to navigate our way through the street sellers jangling trinkets in our path.

Our second and last day in Paris was as equally fun as our first, and for completely different reasons. My mum and Dad went exploring the Musee D’Orsay followed by the hop-on-hop-off sightseeing bus; while Anthony, the boys and I went in search of Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens). Specifically, a little marionette theatre. We found it, bought our tickets and took our seats (boys up the front, parents mid way back) in a quaint little children’s theatre complete with red velvet curtain surrounded by show lights. The story was the Three Little Pigs (we think, it was in French) and it was just delightful. Hamish sat there with a protective arm around Angus, munching on lollies and laughing along with the Parisian children at all the funny little jerks and jumps of the puppets and yelling ‘non! non!’ when a crocodile got in the pigs’ house. The boys loved the show and honestly so did we. It was the first puppet show I had seen!

The Luxembourg Gardens were lovely and we definately want to come back here. There were pony rides through the gardens, an awesome play park (it cost to get through the gate – I thought you have GOT to be kidding! But it was a very cool park and the boys LOVED it. Best park ever). We dragged four iconic 1923-designed sage green metal chairs (bloody heavy – you wouldn’t be wanting to nick them) and picnicked. As the day got on and the temperatures soared, those chairs were a rarity.

An ‘I love my brother’ moment in the Luxembourg Gardens

We spent the afternoon on a river cruise down the Seine. It was a mission to find the departure point I must say, and it was so so very hot. We kept luring Hamish along the footpath with the promise of an icecream. That promise was fulfilled (7 euro later for two haribo pop up icecreams – that vendor saw me coming) and after demolishing it in 5 minutes, he promptly went to sleep sitting upright for the entire 40 minute cruise. The cruise was a good way to see the river, the city and the buildings without having to exert any energy at all. No one in Paris was exerting any energy that day – hundreds of people were just lying around catching the rays along the rivers edge, lolling about draping their legs over the (very steep and very deep) edge. My favourite bits were the beautiful, sandy coloured old buildings with black, wrought iron tiny little Juliette balconies, with the ubiquitous flower boxes holding popping red geraniums. It was picture postcard perfect!

We enjoyed Paris, and hope to come back here again. The boys picked up a bit of the language and enjoyed practising it – and then being fussed over by French restauranteurs and concierges. We did find eating out really difficult in all of France with the boys. The French really make a big deal of lunch and dinner with a three-course meal for both, and the food really is quite exotic for two boys who are used to munching on cheese and vegemite sandwiches for lunch, and their favourite – sausages and mash for dinner. Crepes and baguettes for lunch worked well, and dinner we ate in every night. All menus are in French obviously, and generally speaking, the French either don’t know any English (the south of France) or deliberately choose not to speak English (Paris). So who knows what you’re ordering!

But I must say, the bread and cheese were just superb and that’s not a bad diet for 7 days right?! Oh and the Eurostar connection back to London was just awesome – a great way to finish off a great trip.

The Blairs.