tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96585472024-03-09T11:06:12.059+01:00Ghost of GoldwaterThe rants, musings and adventures of a carpetbombing, neo-imperialist, libertarian-conservative atheist to the far, far right of Genghis Khan
(but who loves kittens!)Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.comBlogger4524125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-19000956129503271452020-09-18T20:36:00.079+02:002020-10-16T17:54:28.836+02:00This year's tour of the west coast - day three<p>The next morning, I decided against driving further up the coast, as the weather was getting rainy and shitty as only a Norwegian September can.
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So I started the long haul back home. As usual, I didn't stop to take pictures of all the lovely scenery I saw, if I had, I would probably still be up there...
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Almost at the top of a valley I stopped and had a look around. On a big rock, dozens of vandals had desecrated nature by building these little towers of rock and how I hate them, both the people and the towers. They are a blight on the otherwise pristine scenery and must be demolished where possible. I went a little cray-cray as you can see.
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I then took the old, single lane road across the mountain (there is a much faster tunnel going straight through). As I started coming down on the other side, I stopped at a lake to get my bearings on the map. A beautiful rainbow appeared and almost as soon as I had my picture, disappeared again.
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The autumn foilage was out in full blaze.
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At yet another place, the clouds and the light interplayed so, so lovely. I don't think the pictures do it justice, it was breathtaking.
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Closer to home, I stopped to stuff face on a waffle. So, so good.
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50494609401/in/dateposted-public/" title="119783661_10164567439845294_4638322631779040713_o"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50494609401_1dab42519e.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt="119783661_10164567439845294_4638322631779040713_o"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-43399699783446832112020-09-17T22:37:00.003+02:002020-12-08T17:08:31.166+01:00This year's tour of the west coast - day two (part III) I finally reached my destination of Urke, a tiny settlement along the beautiful Hjørund fjord. It is home to a friend of mine, Jon Hustad. He's a well known journalist here in Norway and has a reputation as a cranky, show-me-the-numbers type of guy who doesn't deal in the platitudes most others in his trade do.</p><p>
He took me on a trip around the fjords, over some mountains and along some valleys I never would have found on my own. I got the full tour, sprinkled with anecdotes of his youth and especially about the history of the regulated waterfalls in this area, which have provided billions of dollars to Norwegian coffers over the years. He'd just finished a book about the subject and was therefore especially enthusiastic.
</p><p>We finished off with a very good dinner at a hotel in the marginally larger settlement of Sæbø, having even visited the summer vacation home of the current PM of Norway, Erna Solberg. We joked about the complete lack of security, what with it being the Norwegian equivalent of Camp David.<br /></p>
On the west coast, you will often see food and wood just stored by the roadside, with a note giving the price and a box for the money. It is a quaint, very Nordic way of trade and can only happen in a society where people trust one another.
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The area is very, very pretty.
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The aforementioned waterfalls.
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Naturally, I was skeptical of the waterfalls.
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This group of buildings belongs to the PM's husband, it is their ancient homestead, so to speak. Here, she passes the summer playing candy crush and pokemon, I fucking kid you not. I wish I was.
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Dinner was had at the Sagafjord Hotel. Yum, yum, YUM. The fish soup was ok, the beef was great and the dessert was possibly the best I've ever had.
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Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-29939140666883332632020-09-17T21:53:00.038+02:002020-10-18T20:15:08.426+02:00This year's tour of the west coast - day two (part II) I had not gone far, however, when I came upon even mightier views. The kind that makes your jaw literally drop and your mouth go gaaaaah. At Skjørbakkane was a fjord landscape with several arms stretching out, surrounded by mighty mountainsides. Here and there, a bit of green confirmed that there were people living and working on the land. It was the kind of pretty you wish you could bottle and take home with you.
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Driving along the fjord towards the village of Loen. There's a somewhat famous hotel there, the Alexandria, which operates a gondola to take you up the sheer mountainside. Sadly, the gondola was closed for repairs so I'll have to take it next year instead. I suspect I'll be whimpering in a corner the whole way up.<p></p>
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50477475216/in/dateposted-public/" title="119676249_10164563480635294_3525465873864848989_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50477475216_9f1f882b1b.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="119676249_10164563480635294_3525465873864848989_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-56705589849644523582020-09-17T21:11:00.102+02:002020-10-14T10:30:12.067+02:00This year's tour of the west coast - day two (part I)<p>The next day, I drove out of Voss towards Bergen, where I had some South African stash (plus coffee from Ethiopia!) I'd promised to drop off at a friend's workplace. The drive took about 90 mins and I spent an additional 30 just driving around, trying to find a street that would actually take me to within walking distance of the feckin' place. I should hasten to add that "walking distance" may differ for you, dear reader, and me; what with my neuropathic legs, shortness of breath and rotund appearance.</p><p>Afterwards, I drove into what can only be described as a postcard, or rather postcard after postcard. The road up to Urke, where I was going was very, very pretty with a couple of vistas, especially near Stryn, which were just mindblowing.</p><p>The bus stop shelters on the road between Voss and Bergen have grassy roofs on them. Awww. <br /></p><p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50427850431/in/dateposted-public/" title="119742064_10164563058200294_73377393565732296_o"><img alt="119742064_10164563058200294_73377393565732296_o" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50427850431_e2bcb154b7.jpg" width="372" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </p><p>These were taken on the ferry between Ytre Oppedal and Lavik:
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50428026667/in/dateposted-public/" title="119750157_10164563061955294_8612823701122785877_n"><img alt="119750157_10164563061955294_8612823701122785877_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50428026667_8d86fd1bd4.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </p><p>These were taken along lake Jølstravatnet, when I was driving (flying low?) towards the village of Skei.</p><p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50428026737/in/dateposted-public/" title="119743294_10164563227070294_204453549694932305_n"><img alt="119743294_10164563227070294_204453549694932305_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50428026737_4aa1850393.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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</p><p>Finally, these were taken from the roadside in the hills above Byrkjelo, the next village over. One of the most stunning places I've ever seen, with mountains all around me.<br />
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The snow is a part of the mighty glacier Jostedalsbreen. It is almost 500 square km big and is the largest on the European mainland.
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There were sheep in a meadow just below me and I could hear the clanging of their bells.
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50428027287/in/dateposted-public/" title="119621550_10164563358720294_2736826090668714825_n"><img alt="119621550_10164563358720294_2736826090668714825_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50428027287_ca494cae19.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></p>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-37557323033247832622020-09-16T22:45:00.056+02:002020-10-03T17:02:42.639+02:00This year's tour of the west coast<p>I was bored throughout much of September, so eventually I decided to spend a day or two on the west coast. My plan was to go to Hardanger, a very beautiful area just south of Bergen. The next day I would drop off some stuff from a friend of mine in Bergen, then head north to another friend's place. Along the way I'd stop and take a shitload of pictures. You be the judge on whether I succeeded.</p><p>I started out driving over to Valdres, then over Golsfjellet to the mountain plain of Hardangervidda. These pics were taken not far from Ustaoset:<br /></p>
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<p>My first planned stop was at the lovely waterfall of Vøringsfossen. Not nearly the largest in Norway, but probably one of the most accessible and picturesque. Since I was there last, they've gone and built a bridge across it (probably to lure even more German tourists to their demise).</p><p>The upper fall & the bridge:</p>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411945176/in/dateposted-public/" title="119659270_10164558620065294_522402334989122580_n"><img alt="119659270_10164558620065294_522402334989122580_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411945176_d16a72470e.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>The lower fall:</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411246928/in/dateposted-public/" title="119644613_10164558619235294_345359663893092329_n"><img alt="119644613_10164558619235294_345359663893092329_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411246928_fe6b836f22.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>There's a bit of water coming down the other side of the mountain as well, and this one often creates a very pretty rainbow.<br /></p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411945211/in/dateposted-public/" title="119651841_10164558619755294_8370718343228072745_n"><img alt="119651841_10164558619755294_8370718343228072745_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411945211_e0a0677580.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>I then reached Hardanger proper. This is from the small village of Kinsarvik, at the opening of Sørfjorden (South Fjord).</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100577/in/dateposted-public/" title="119701514_10164558758510294_5559039908474651934_n"><img alt="119701514_10164558758510294_5559039908474651934_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100577_705f94d7d4.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> <p>I drove alongside Sørfjorden all the way down to the industrial town of Odda, where the fjord ends and there's a tunnel beneath a big ole' glacier, Folgefonna:</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100967/in/dateposted-public/" title="119562484_10164558916875294_8933624467886614575_n"><img alt="119562484_10164558916875294_8933624467886614575_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100967_1797f70efd.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>Now, I could have gone south and attempted a tour of the southern part of the peninsula, but I knew I didn't have the time, so that's probably for next year. Instead, I went north to take a ferry across the fjord. As I had almost half an hour to wait, I decided to stretch my legs and stuff face.<br /><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100942/in/dateposted-public/" title="119578914_10164559029830294_5010583222027024675_n"><img alt="119578914_10164559029830294_5010583222027024675_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100942_60ccf87f91.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></p><p></p><p>The ferry port.</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100597/in/dateposted-public/" title="119676837_10164559029945294_1005703206022670622_n"><img alt="119676837_10164559029945294_1005703206022670622_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100597_a9e3142ac0.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p></p><p>View from the ferry, half way across:</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100862/in/dateposted-public/" title="119649313_10164559185100294_7563397017220357900_n"><img alt="119649313_10164559185100294_7563397017220357900_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100862_437f7dea30.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>There were nice settlements and farms all around me.</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411945136/in/dateposted-public/" title="119668165_10164559185890294_3590810296198521783_n"><img alt="119668165_10164559185890294_3590810296198521783_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411945136_ca9634952d.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>Lastly, I went up to Voss. On the way, I took a quick detour to see Steinsdalsfossen, which is much smaller, but even more accessible and lovely than Vøringsfossen:</p><p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412100927/in/dateposted-public/" title="119622367_10164559300335294_6838954987908789397_n"><img alt="119622367_10164559300335294_6838954987908789397_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412100927_c0091820b4.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411246688/in/dateposted-public/" title="119681883_10164559300025294_8265899794589384511_n"><img alt="119681883_10164559300025294_8265899794589384511_n" height="500" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411246688_a83cc0fd25.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></p><p>How this hasn't been used as the setting for a Norwegian "Sherlock Holmes at the Reichenbach Falls"-type of movie scene, I'll never know.<br /></p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50411246953/in/dateposted-public/" title="119644058_10164559300160294_8922887751668823940_n"><img alt="119644058_10164559300160294_8922887751668823940_n" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50411246953_8dbbe382d1.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><p>The 300 gram hamburger w/cheese and bacon I devoured at the Esso Deli de Luca gas station in Voss. Yummy!</p><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50412267592/in/dateposted-public/" title="119706402_10164560370920294_2007909552300785733_o"><img alt="119706402_10164560370920294_2007909552300785733_o" height="372" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50412267592_0c5c7df62d.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-71404621412679020162020-09-13T18:31:00.000+02:002020-09-15T02:41:26.910+02:00Torpa TourToday, I did a two hour drive around the local area known as Torpa. The road winded its way for miles way the hell into the boondocks, but it was quite pretty up there and up towards the mountains you could really see the leaves on the trees had started to change colors and even in some places fall off. Winter is coming, peeps.<br />
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Views from the area commonly refered to as western Torpa. They're all taken from basically the same point.<br />
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Synnfjorden, a lake by Synnfjell, a mountain area in northern Torpa. There's a ski slope opposite the lake and tons of outdoorsy stuff was taking place when I came driving even on a Monday in work time. I shudder to think what it's like in winter, not that I have to imagine it. I've BEEN there several times, as our school generally arranges a ski day up there each March. I have spent each and every one of those days sitting snug inside the hotel, stuffing face, listening to music and/or reading while people were freezing their asses off outside. Ugh.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50343579506/in/dateposted-public/" title="119129915_10164545674490294_1505924369515356513_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50343579506_e1e3faac84.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="119129915_10164545674490294_1505924369515356513_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-28510246266423394272020-09-07T03:03:00.000+02:002020-09-12T11:35:25.919+02:00North and then eastAs the weather was fine, I set out around ten in the morning. Sadly, it quickly became overcast and I even got some rain now and then. Boooo!<br />
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Again, I stopped for one of these.<br />
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I set off across Valdresflye and up north, I took the road that goes through Heidal. Very pretty valley with a pretty church.<br />
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Just behind it was a grand old farm. <br />
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I hit the motorway shortly thereafter and went south to Ringebu, then I took the road east across some of the most beautiful mountain areas in the country.<br />
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It reminds me of Scotland in all its barren beauty.<br />
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I also shot two videos:<br />
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Down in the valley on the other side I had to stop and take a pic of this huge ass moose. They <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Big_Elk">call it</a> the world's largest, but apparently there's something of a contest going on with the Canucks over this.<br />
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After having broken just about every speed limit in two counties and passed I don't know how many cars, I had to stop for ten minutes behind this fucker and a whole line of others in front of me, because of road works. If there's a message from the Universe here somewhere, I don't particularly care to hear it.<br />
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It was getting late in the afternoon, and as I still had a couple of hours driving before I got home I then drove straight west to Hamar, then north to the bridge across Lake Mjøsa, south to Gjøvik and over the hills to home, sweet home. A nice, long drive.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-19828029309040211372020-09-01T20:48:00.000+02:002020-09-12T11:33:41.945+02:00Through the northern valleysI live in sparsely populated municipality, but there's a really rural one just north of here that's also got some great and mountainous scenery. It also borders some other, equally good looking areas. So, today I decided to drive up and see what was what. And this was it:<br />
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Just after the paved road turned into gravel, I encountered some horses.<br />
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I then drove through what looked like a very expensive area with a shitload of cabins. Also, I want to live here.<br />
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This is their view.<br />
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I also shot a 360 degree video.<br />
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Almost reminds me of Northern California or southern Oregon. Crater Lake, maybe.<br />
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Sadly, this cafe was closed.<br />
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View from their parking lot. There's just something about this picture that makes me yearn for the US. Could be the skies.<br />
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Just a few yards on from the cafe, I started driving the very swingy road down to Gausdal. It's very, very pretty up there.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50332257632/in/dateposted-public/" title="118699796_10164494182500294_4831521301495817298_o"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50332257632_362d1de1ce.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt="118699796_10164494182500294_4831521301495817298_o"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-89185666957726340352020-07-29T23:38:00.000+02:002020-09-11T11:47:44.583+02:00UK Day 15: Farewell once moreThe next day, I slept late. I also went online to buy extra checked baggage room, as I just couldn't be bothered lugging around a small suitcase anymore, be it wheeled or not. Only my PC in a bag over my shoulder would now be handled physically by yours truly.<br />
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Since I had landed, the Engerlish had come up with further restrictions to travel, chief among them was the requirement to wear fucking mouth covers upon entering a public building, such as an airport. In Salisbury, I'd bought one with the Union Jack on and this was now put to good use.<br />
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I checked in, went through security and spent my time in the airport with the music on my phone & EarPods cranked way up. I don't think I lowered the volume of the music even once before landing in Oslo.<br />
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The car was where I'd left it and I drove to my home pad 90 mins north of the airport. I'd bought gifts for my landlady, various types of jam from England. As it so happened, she'd JUST finished a huge batch of waffles and the family was about to sit down and stuff face.<br />
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Naturally, I was invited in and the next hour was spent in good company while we all shoveled waffles into our respective faces and there were several exclamations of oh and ah when the jam hit someone's taste buds. People were even talking about going online to see if they could order more of some types; it was that good.<br />
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Anyways; to summarize two weeks in England while the corona virus was doing its worst: It didn't manage to destroy the experience for me, but it did diminish it quite a bit. Having to use the damn mouth covers on the plane made it difficult to breathe and it was the same thing in stores.<br />
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On the one hand, I am glad I went and got to spread my wings a bit before Europe closed everything again and I did see and do some good stuff. Maybe the best was when I could interact with others in bars or shops, but the whole thing seemed subdued and dulled by the virus.<br />
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On the other hand, had I known beforehand how dull it was going to be, I might just have stayed home until this whole thing had blown over. However, as there was no knowing then how long this would take, on balance it was probably best that I went. But this was the least joyful trip to the UK ever, and that's just sad.<br />
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Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-25937960033584545092020-07-28T23:42:00.000+02:002020-09-11T11:37:39.528+02:00UK Day 14: For once, a lovely church This is the entry that I had prepared on the evening of day 13: "The day before, I had booked a 10 o'clock free entry to Salisbury Cathedral, but when the morning came I preferred to sleep in instead."<br />
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As it was, I awoke early and instead decided to go see the cathedral after all. And I am very glad I did. I think as these things go, Salisbury is now my favorite church in the whole wide world, not that the competition is strong for that title.<br />
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First, I arrived at the place where you pay for parking. I had my ticket info on my mobile phone and showed it to the old guy on duty. However, when time came to pay for my parking, the card machine refused both my cards. I hadn't bothered to withdraw any cash as I had gotten along electronically thus far and was going home the next day.<br />
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In the end he just said I could donate to the church, gave me a sticker to put in my window and gave me directions to the church parking lot. I walked from there the roughly five minutes (others probably take three) to the cathedral close, which is the largest in the UK.<br />
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I spent almost half an hour just outside the cathedral, strolling the grounds and taking in the various art pieces that dotted the green. There were quite a few of them and kids were particularly fond of climbing one that gave me associations to my grandfather's ashtray.<br />
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Elsewhere, there was a flight of stairs to nowhere in particular, perhaps symbolic of our final ascendance to the guy in the sky; something that may or may not be angel's wings and something possibly purely abstract. Plus loads more that I couldn't be bothered with.<br />
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Stairs:<br />
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Is this abstract or a human shape or both? See if I care.<br />
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Something wing-y.<br />
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It is a magnificent, imposing structure.<br />
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*Impose, impose*<br />
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Finally, the doors opened, and we went in, first to an inner garden with trees and paved floor and some info boards along the wall. This covered walk extended around the whole inner area and is known as a cloister. This, too, is the largest in the UK.<br />
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The church tower as seen from the corner of the cloister.<br />
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I then entered the church proper. I can't remember exactly where I paid my "donation", but I do remember it was more than the parking fee, so by all measurements I should now be guaranteed a one way trip upwards. Isn't that how these things work?<br />
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From inside the entrance area.<br />
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It's good to see that the church hasn't lost its taste for ladies of the night...<br />
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Mammon is also present.<br />
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Model of the cathedral.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5p2XAGE8R8">Burma</a>!<br />
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Supposedly, the cathedral houses the oldest working clock in the world.<br />
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Art.<br />
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More art. Meh.<br />
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The cathedral is interesting from an architectural point. It was built between 1220 and 1258 and since 1549, it has had the highest spire in the UK. It also contains the best kept of the four original copies of Magna Charta, but that exhibit was closed due to the Corona situation.<br />
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I talked a little to the volunteers who stood at presumably important places throughout the church and they were all friendly, well informed and in a good mood. No one batted an eye if I mentioned that I was atheist, few Britons can afford to be American fundamentalists on that subject.<br />
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The pulpit.<br />
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T'was spacious.<br />
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There were no terribly important people buried in the cathedral, but I still stopped and photographed a few graves. I also looked up to the mighty roof and got a little lecture about the various restructurings that had taken place over the years, something which I forgot before even leaving the building.<br />
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This must have been a badass.<br />
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Nice, painted glass.<br />
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My ecclesiastic needs met, I then set out for Old Sarum. It was the site of not just the old cathedral, but also a reputedly grand palace, perhaps the grandest looking in the land at the time. Now, all you can see is the foundations.<br />
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It's a splendid little site, even in Corona times. Kids can play around and there's a lot of paths, slopes and walls where you can do a proper hide and seek. Needless to say, it is also a place where dogs frolic (outside the walls, that is).<br />
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It has a moat!<br />
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Hide and seek!<br />
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You can walk along the ramparts for much of the way.<br />
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...if you dare...<br />
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The views over to Salisbury proper from the ramparts of Old Sarum are unsurpassed.<br />
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There's a nice area immediately behind Old Sarum, which is very popular among dog walkers and the likes.<br />
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Naturally, I was skeptical of Old Sarum.<br />
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And Salisbury.<br />
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I even shot a video from Old Sarum.<br />
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After about an hour I made the final trek down to my hotel in Crawley, but stopped for a decidedly mediocre burger in a Whetherspoon's in Andover.<br />
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In Crawley, I managed to confuse the hell out of a delivery guy. I was hungry, so I went online to book something and after several false tries, with places that were closed or didn't do delivery after all, I finally found an Indian place. They promised quick delivery and I sat back and anticipated a huge, good, hot meal.<br />
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Twenty minutes later, my cell phone rings. He's outside, where am I? I go down to the reception. Nobody there. I walk around the building, same thing. I have him on the phone the whole time and he sounds more exasperated by the minute.<br />
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Turns out, there were two hotels with the same name just a couple of miles apart. Misunderstanding resolved, to his credit, he drove over to my hotel and delivered the meal, which by now was rapidly cooling. I still stuffed face, but it wasn't the best Indian meal I've had in the UK.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-88291297987136676322020-07-27T22:03:00.000+02:002020-09-09T16:26:13.238+02:00UK Day 13: Stonehenge sans AsiansAt my hotel in High Wycombe, there was a door right next to my room that led to several more rooms beyond. At the bottom of this door there was a type of barrier that would slow the door down if someone went through, so that it wouldn't slam.<br />
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Instead, it made this whooshing sound that sounded EXACTLY like the sound my late dad would make when he tried to walk from A to B and the cats would try to tackle him and he was trying to brush them off.<br />
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Anyways, that morning as I was lying half asleep I heard the sound and I remember thinking to myself that this was no way to run a hotel, with cats going in and out all the time. Thoughts from a fevered mind.<br />
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And yes, I was getting a type of what I've earlier dubbed "old ruins fever". Or maybe a slump in my mojo, a spraining of the ole' travel leg, I dunno. Could be that the corona virus and the masks and all that insanity was taking its toll too.<br />
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In the early afternoon I went to Stonehenge and was seconds away from leaving altogether because of a huge traffic jam the last few miles. It was pissing down sideways when I parked, but it abated somewhat before I took the shuttle bus out to the stones.<br />
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I stuffed face on soggy sandwiches (due to the sideways rain) and I think the whole experience can be summed up quite nicely by the expression on my face.<br />
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If there was one good thing about the whole Corvid-19 thing, it was that Europe was no longer overrun with Asian tourists waiving their fucking cameras around. However, when I arrived at the temple, I found the place as barren and boring as on the two previous occasions. As it was, I took some pics from afar and left after five minutes.<br />
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There were some new info boards put up.<br />
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Barren and boring.<br />
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I did go a little bananas in the gift shop afterwards and that lifted my mood a little and the Indian food I ordered for dinner and had brought to my hotel for free, was very good. So there's that.<br />
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The remainder of the evening was spent in the hotel bar overhearing a bartender giving a young 'un the run-down of the place and the routines and boy, did I get a wake-up call as to how much work there is to that profession; the serving of drinks is just a tiny part of it all.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-47652980988311837742020-07-26T21:51:00.000+02:002020-09-06T22:03:16.781+02:00UK Day 12: Randomly roving the hillsOn the 12th day, he rested. Or, more specifically, he entered a place name a few miles into the Chiltern Hills and, once there, turned off Google Maps and just went where his fancy took him.<br />
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I saw a lot of small towns and hamlets, many of them with quaint Tudor houses and cozy pubs, narrow streets and probably very high property prices. Also, an array of stupid names, of which England has an incredible amount. Seriously, just open a map of England and laugh and laugh.<br />
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The property prices in this part of England makes my wallet go limp.<br />
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Finally, I saw a sign for Wendover and since I'd been to two Wendovers in the US, I set course for it. The two American cities lie on opposite sides of the Nevada/Utah state border and are quite representative of their states' peculiarities. I spent one night there on my first coast-to-coast trip of the US, so the name had a very faint attraction to me.<br />
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Upon arrival I found the center to be quite nice, with a couple of streets half filled with Tudor style and some clearly very old other types of buildings too. The shops and cafes generally exuded prosperity and as this was a Sunday, it was teeming with bicycles and families, two of the things I despise the most.<br />
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Nice, Tudor buildings. Oh, how I love cozy, quaint English villages.<br />
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There were purdy flowers everywhere.<br />
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The clock tower wasn't the most impressive I've seen...<br />
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The English love their roundabouts.<br />
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I had my sight set on the pub "George and Dragon", which looked properly old. It was just my luck that the place was no longer an English pub, serving solid, English grub, but a Thai place and not even a good Thai place at that. Seriously, there's only so much uninspired cooking one can cover up with chili.<br />
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The starter was all vegetables. I ate it all, because I'm a GOOD boy.<br />
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Afterwards, I took an even more convoluted route back to my hotel, with some sharp turns and one-lane roads, but also more pretty villages. Dinner was taken back in High Wycombe at a so-called "American BBQ" that really was neither, but at least the city council had had the good sense to cancel the fees in the adjacent parking house until August 1, when I would be in Norway.<br />
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*sniffle* It's so beautiful...<br />
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A meh burger.<br />
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Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-34635495836998951552020-07-25T23:15:00.000+02:002020-09-06T21:51:02.005+02:00UK Day 11: A tale of two castlesIn the morning, I drove out to Warwick Castle, where I'd been about 15 years before, but which I failed to remember much about. It was a mighty fine complex of buildings, set in a very pretty, upscale town.<br />
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It had a proper moat and shtuff.<br />
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And a barbican.<br />
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Once inside the castle grounds, the one way trip took me through numerous rooms filled with the grandest of paintings, armor, weaponry, china, jewelry, etc, etc. Behold:<br />
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A model of the grounds.<br />
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Makes big kaboom. I apologize for the blurry pics, but flash photography was, as per usual, a strict no-no.<br />
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The compulsory Victorian vision of what the Middle Ages looked like.<br />
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A decidedly Victorian display.<br />
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Oh, how Victorian.<br />
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They had a chapel inside the castle, because why not.<br />
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This idiot kept following me around.<br />
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Eye of newt and toe of frog, etc.<br />
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They dined in style.<br />
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After dinner, one could probably engage in dance here.<br />
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The lady of the manor in the late 1800s and early 1900s was one Daisy Greville. She was probably the inspiration for the well known English song "Daisy Bell".<br />
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The contents of this room is probably worth enough money to keep any random third world country operating for a month. Which is why it's a good thing they're safely locked away here.<br />
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I shot this video once outside:<br />
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Once outside again, I even managed to climb the old motte, a manmade hill where the first keep had stood. Behold:<br />
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Looking back on the castle.<br />
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Views out over the city of Warwick.<br />
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On top of the motte is a small folly.<br />
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Behind the folly is a small square with views over the garden and the river.<br />
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They're nice views too.<br />
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That first settlement was said to have been built on the orders of Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians (see <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4179452/" target="_blank">The Last Kingdom</a> for an entertaining and highly unhistorical retelling of her life and times). Later, after the Norman invasion was complete, William the Conqueror ordered a wooden fortress to be constructed. The present castle dates its foundation history back to 1068, although the first stone buildings didn't go up until the late 1100s.<br />
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The views from up there were great, but I soon descended. There were lots of families with small children everywhere and a corresponding amount of hatred in my heart. Down by the river they were running a falconer show and a bit further up they had archery training.<br />
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I stopped for a while to take in the falconer thingy. The story was lame but the birds themselves quite impressive, although twice they would not do what the trainers wanted them to do. Both times owls, of course. Contrary to the legends, they are not particularly intelligent birds. I shot nine videos of the birds and I still can't quite understand why; it wasn't THAT spectacular:<br />
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On my way out, I also took a video of a peacock who was strolling through the gardens and getting pestered by annyoing children.<br />
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I left the castle to stuff face and found the wonderful Thomas Oken Tea Rooms, situated in a building from Tudor times, sometime before 1573, when the aforementioned Oken died here. The place apparently used to be a doll's museum and is quite wonderful inside, but we weren't allowed in due to the corona situation.<br />
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Lovely exterior at least.<br />
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There was a placard on the wall explaining the estimated age of the building and the name of the establishment.<br />
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The other buildings around there weren't too shabby either.<br />
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So, I found a table outside and ordered plowman's lunch and sugar free lemonade. I got my food, which was delicious, and started stuffing face. When I had just two bites left, the heavens opened, and rain started falling in tropical mode.<br />
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Ready to tuck in.<br />
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Noooo! Rain!<br />
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Getting drenched.<br />
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I got up and tried to stand under the small overhang of the building, but to little avail. However, I did see possibly the most English image I shall ever see: At the table next to mine were an English couple who had simply opened up an umbrella and were continuing to drink their tea while carnage ensued around them.<br />
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I started laughing and told them they were the most English thing I'd ever seen, and they laughed and agreed that it WAS very English. The stoic way in which they took their fate, making the best of a bad situation, stiff upper lip, musn't grumble, etc, etc. It's why the Krauts could never break their spirit during the war and I so love this little island.<br />
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Afterwards, I drove out to Kenilworth Castle where I felt I spent more time standing in line than inside the actual grounds. I'm exaggerating, but the sheer stupidity of their queueing system was such that it made me angry and turned me sour on the whole experience. I left after maybe 15-20 minutes.<br />
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The keep didn't look too shabby from a certain angle.<br />
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Upon closer inspection, however...<br />
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The outer wall.<br />
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The garden was ok as these things go.<br />
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They also had some impressive trees.<br />
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The keep from another angle.<br />
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I don't remember what this more modern building was for, but they had nice flowers outside.<br />
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The stables. Now housing souvenir shop & cafe.<br />
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Anyway, the castle was in ruins and although it was reputedly a place to rival Warwick back in the day, it was a pale shadow now. I got in my car and drove off to High Wycombe, where I was to spend the next two nights.Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-10666393477626394732020-07-24T23:00:00.001+02:002020-09-04T00:26:31.346+02:00UK Day 10: Laundry dayThe day started well, by the maid knocking and telling me my breakfast was by the door. I unpacked two solid egg & bacon sandwiches and a banana and feasted on them. I was by now in the precarious situation of wearing my last piece of clean underwear, so I decided to go take care of bid'niss before moving on to Stratford-upon-Avon.<br />
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I drove five minutes up the road to where my phone told me there was a laundromat. A lady took my clothes and said I could pay by card and that I should come back in about 75 minutes. This gave me just about enough time to leisurely drive up, down and around some streets and roads and take some pictures of the battlefields of Tewkesbury, such as they were.<br />
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The main battlefield was probably somewhere out here:<br />
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Just up the road is where it all ended.<br />
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I shot a video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50302099253/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Tewkesbury"><img alt="V Tewkesbury" height="281" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50302099253_dbef65e28b.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
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I noticed that many houses in Tewkesbury had flags outside. I believe these are the banners of the various houses that fought at the battle.<br />
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I returned to pick up my clean clothes and paid my debts. My laundry safely tucked away in my suitcase, I set sail for Stratford which I had hoped would be just about empty now, what with everything Shakespeare closed down due to the corona situation. However, when I arrived it was teeming with tourists and a switch turned off in my brain and I decided to fuck off without even stopping.<br />
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When I arrived in Leamington Spa, where I was to spend the night, I found a long term parking lot. At first it was full, but I parked and waited and after less than five minutes a space opened up and I could back in.<br />
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Even better, the ticket machine bore a sign with the most beautiful sentence in the English language: "Parking charges will recommence in this car park on Saturday August 1, 2020". It was the 24th of July, which meant I could stay overnight for freeeeee.<br />
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The joy continued when I got to my hotel, which was in combination with a bar. The guy who checked me in told me he had originally put me in a room at the very top of the building but when he saw all the luggage I was hauling, he put me in a double room on the first floor for the same price. Imma nominate him for sainthood.<br />
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Later, on advice from the same man, I went down to a large pub called The Old Library, where I was told to order DRINKS at the bar and go sit down and someone would come and take my order. When 25 minutes had passed I got up and asked if maybe I could order now, but the waitress said they didn't take orders at the table, so I fucked off outta there. Really!<br />
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I then asked at the first place if it was ok to order from someplace else but eat in there, since they didn't serve food, and like my first place in Bury, that was no problem at all. So, I popped around the corner to Papa John's and ordered a <a href="https://ghostofgoldwater.blogspot.com/2012/01/charleston.html">Charleston</a> (BBQ sauce, pepperoni, beef and pineapple in case you didn't know).<br />
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I wasn't sure about the sizes, so I ordered the largest one. I stuffed face for almost an hour but only managed 2/3 of it and donated the rest to some of the… ahem… colorful people around me and was promptly declared a "legend".<br />
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I went upstairs to rest and came down a little over 9. I had a very nice conversation about this and that with the woman who was now behind the bar; she was the area manager and was really from Birmingham but was working in Leamington this weekend so the local guy could get a few days off.<br />
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I also talked to a young girl from Poland, Paulina and Mark, a guy in his late fifties who told us he'd been born in the area but was now back to visit his parents. A nice conversation with nice people; it doesn't get much better than that.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-37401179347760776502020-07-23T22:01:00.000+02:002020-09-03T23:13:07.108+02:00UK Day 9: The baths in BathThe next morning, I went out to see the Roman baths. There's not all that much to say about them; they are very impressive, and the size and scope is much larger than what is currently at display. The sophistication of the old Romans never ceases to amaze me.<br />
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You go through a fairly modern entrance on an otherwise busy tourist street and arrive at a plaza. Bath Abbey is at the other end of it.<br />
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The actual baths are hidden behind (and below) a large 18th century building.<br />
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Looking down into the main pool from above.<br />
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It is lined with 18th century versions of Roman statues.<br />
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Complete with SPQR.<br />
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With the abbey as backdrop.<br />
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Info panel about the source of the baths:<br />
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Model of what they think the place looked like in Roman times:<br />
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Video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296537807/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Bath 1"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296537807_43452a1a91.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Bath 1"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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More video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296379736/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Bath 2"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296379736_d1ac72773d.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Bath 2"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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The original pool had a roof, so birds couldn't defecate freely into the water, much unlike today. Also, the direct sunlight has given growth to green algae in today's water.<br />
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The tradition of wishing wells go far, far back in history and even the old Romans would give their offerings to their deities a watery grave.<br />
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Ducts would lead water in and out of various parts of the complex, carrying hot or cold water.<br />
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Small canals were even chiseled out in the floor.<br />
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At pool level. They had some live actors in flowing garments at one end and I exchanged a little banter with one of them, greeting him with "salve" and stating that I was a traveler from "Ultima thule".<br />
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This large, metal face of Minerva has been found in the ruins.<br />
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Due to the effin Corona situation, there were parts of the baths that were closed off, but that you could still see & photograph.<br />
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Video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296378406/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Bath 3"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296378406_e2eee5579a.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Bath 3"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Afterwards, I had the great satisfaction of checking out a day early from my hotel and telling them in detail exactly what was wrong with the room. I also took care to mention that I had nothing but good things to say about the personnel at the reception, but that I had already booked lodgings at my next destination.<br />
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In Tewkesbury, I found both the hotel and its tiny parking lot just fine and this hotel was a traditional English hotel, just like they're supposed to be. Except the rooms were actually quite spacious, including the bathroom. Downstairs was an Italian restaurant accessible through the reception area and I stuffed face there that evening.<br />
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Garlic bread for starters:<br />
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And duck for dinner:<br />
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Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-55101478197099468552020-07-22T22:48:00.000+02:002020-09-03T21:54:13.257+02:00UK Day 8: How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.I set out the next morning at a calm and easy pace. First, I ventured south on tiny roads towards the little town of Newton, then I set sail north towards Shapwick Heath, where I had read they kept a length of an ancient walkway artificially submerged, so as not to rot away.<br />
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The disappointment when I arrived at the visitor center and found it closed was measurable, but only just. I'd long ago come to expect that a lot of things were closed in these troubling times and it's not like I was that desperate to see the blasted thing in the first place.<br />
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The next thing on my list was, however, something I really wanted to see again: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheddar_Gorge">Cheddar Gorge</a>. It is one of the very, very few places in Britain that can honestly lay claim to being a "gorge" or a "canyon" and it is quite lovely, although British people's pride in it seems somewhat ludicrous when one's already tired of the sight of the Grand Canyon.<br />
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At some of the numerous little hamlets between the motorway and Cheddar, there was roadwork and a diversion had been signposted. I can't claim familiarity with the area, so I don't know for sure, but something tells me there were faster ways than driving many miles past where I was supposed to be going in the first place. But the sign said "diversion", so I diverted.<br />
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At long last I reached Cheddar and at the area just before the road rises with steep hills on both sides, I put on my phone camera on "video" and I now have almost seven minutes of mahself driving the gorge to, well gorge on any time I want to. Sorry, a little dad joke there...:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50301962391/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Cheddar Gorge"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50301962391_1d77bdfb6f.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Cheddar Gorge"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Afterwards, I drove through pleasant landscapes up to the city of Bath. Little did I know that I was driving into hell. But hell it was, at least for someone with a car (this was confirmed to me by my Uber driver the next day).<br />
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The city center is filled to the brim with one way streets and Bob help you if you miss an exit. Add into the mix a hefty number of pedestrianized or partially pedestrianized streets due to the corona situation and the increased need for social distancing, and you're ready for the funny farm.<br />
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I drove around and around for what seemed like an eternity, then ducked inside the first and best car park I could find. From there, it was supposed to be a seven-minute walk to my hotel, but with my poor legs (and fat-covered body), it took around 20 minutes of me sweating profusely the whole way.<br />
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At one point I actually considered just giving up and going back to the car park and say "fuck this" to the whole city of Bath, but I'd sunk quite a bit of money (two nights) into accommodation and the tickets to see the Roman Baths, so I thought I'd better carry on. Stiff upper lip, musn't grumble, etc.<br />
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When I got to my hotel, The Z, I found a "room" so tiny I could barely turn around in it and no windows. Even most prisoners are allowed to see the sun. Additionally, the bathroom was created by an interior designer born with a deep hatred of the human condition. <br />
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The controls for the lights and the air-conditioner were in that pretentious style of buttons which are employed by designers who think they're better people than you, simply because you, you unwashed laborer, fancy function over form. Fascist, I tell you!<br />
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The flushing device on the toilet was a willed disaster; something created out of pure spite. The buttons were hid behind the lid at the back, so if you were sitting on the throne, you had to at once lean forward to allow some space between the lid and the wall AND contort one of your arms behind you to push the blasted thing.<br />
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But the piece de la resistance was the showerhead. It looked like something out of a cheap sci-fi movie and consisted of a slightly oval ring with a big hole where the actual showerhead usually is. The water came out of the sides of the ring, making it difficult to actually point the damn thing at any given part of one's body. It was a creation of either bottomless evil or stupidity.<br />
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However, by now I was too tired to fuck off in a huff, as I was inclined to do and there was still the question of seeing the Roman baths the next day. So, I went next door to a Five Guys burger (I believe this was my first time at such an establishment) and stuffed a double bacon & cheeseburger and a banana milkshake in my face. It was good, but somewhat overpriced.<br />
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Then I went back to my room to sulk and to plan the next day.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-25341996203487085342020-07-21T22:21:00.000+02:002020-09-02T04:15:04.385+02:00UK Day 7: A lazy dayToday, I had a shitload planned, but didn't get to do most of it. I had planned to go see Winchester Cathedral, but couldn't be bothered going back to that traffical hellhole. I then went to the New Forest and shot a quick video and some pics of the Rufus Stone.<br />
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The Rufus Stone. Not really a stone, is it?<br />
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A video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296301977/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Rufus Stone"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296301977_93c7294f69.jpg" width="281" height="500" alt="V Rufus Stone"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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The Walter Tyrrell Inn, just down the road.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50286922153/in/dateposted-public/" title="115825536_10164299756100294_8056633902078660731_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50286922153_91b7b2d34c.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="115825536_10164299756100294_8056633902078660731_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Building next to the Tyrrell Inn.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287597706/in/dateposted-public/" title="116086685_10164299756195294_1566766447179267030_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287597706_de95800646.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="116086685_10164299756195294_1566766447179267030_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
<br />
I moved further south to the New Forest Wildlife Park, but when I arrived, ten minutes after opening time, the parking space was already being filled up with literally dozens of families with kids. That was too much for me to face, so I immediately fucked off outta there.<br />
<br />
I then set course west, towards Dartmoor. On the way, I had planned to see Lulworth Cove and the famous drinking dragon stone formation of Dorset, but I found I couldn't be bothered. My plans to revisit the Cerne Abbas stone figure was also cancelled.<br />
<br />
Here, I find it prudent to emphasize that this was no judgement upon these places as such; it was a combination of me being tired to the point of homicide over having to navigate fucking traffic circles every fucking mile, or so it seemed AND of course the fact that there were tons of British people out and about, having their summer holidays, which I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge them (but I still will… they're in my way!).<br />
<br />
When I'd done much of this trip before, it was either in September/October or in May, before the season had started. The roads had been emptier, and I could keep up a much higher average speed and not be encumbered by other people, who are, indeed, hell.<br />
<br />
As it were, I spent much more time driving around tiny, narrow, nerve-wrecking roads in Dartmoor, a place that is truly a tonic for the soul. There is something about that scenery; the twisted trees, the ferns and the fields, the horses, cattle and sheep who roam, often freely.<br />
<br />
On my way down, I stopped to shoot this wonderful place in Dorset:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296149411/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dorset"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296149411_44e44330e1.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dorset"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Leafy roads.<br />
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Sheep roam freely.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287775247/in/dateposted-public/" title="116042065_10164300583095294_1133909755720559683_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287775247_f21e1d8d12.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="116042065_10164300583095294_1133909755720559683_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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As do the horsies.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287777582/in/dateposted-public/" title="109941866_10164301100975294_7180197662472926146_o"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287777582_9129f383cb.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt="109941866_10164301100975294_7180197662472926146_o"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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I had a little fun on their behalf, my very own Blair Witch Project attempt:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50295628368/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 6"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50295628368_7e06db953c.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 6"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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White foal snoring on the ground.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50286948648/in/dateposted-public/" title="115850941_10164300583490294_2705201619838386927_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50286948648_7664f775f0.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="115850941_10164300583490294_2705201619838386927_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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He eventually got up to eat.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287775887/in/dateposted-public/" title="115825428_10164300583360294_4055984828828031797_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287775887_fe9873b671.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="115825428_10164300583360294_4055984828828031797_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Note the foal sleeping stretched out in the background.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287624121/in/dateposted-public/" title="115822860_10164300583715294_7470630773154542266_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287624121_e304bb9987.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="115822860_10164300583715294_7470630773154542266_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296236976/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 1"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296236976_ff43595e59.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 1"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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More video of the horsies:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296372607/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 2"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296372607_cdbcfeba77.jpg" width="281" height="500" alt="V Dartmoor 2"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Lovely, if windswept, scenery:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50295493708/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 3"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50295493708_a780038176.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 3"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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The lovely Widecombe-in-the-moor.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287775767/in/dateposted-public/" title="115844458_10164300903575294_6706187330822535995_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287775767_ac3a826149.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="115844458_10164300903575294_6706187330822535995_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296484182/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 5"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296484182_b5849b556c.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 5"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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This bridge is called a clapper bridge and it is ancient.<br />
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Video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50295623648/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 7"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50295623648_015382838e.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 7"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287775352/in/dateposted-public/" title="116022160_10164301499115294_6544251135452678480_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287775352_b1defae93a.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="116022160_10164301499115294_6544251135452678480_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Video from the area where I was staying - Postbridge:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50295488798/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Dartmoor 4"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50295488798_864f7c6b0e.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Dartmoor 4"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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In the evening I went to eat at the pub just up the road from my lodgings and found that even though they had all the signs out by the road, promising good food, etc, they were, in fact, closed. I tried the door and looked through the windows - nothing.<br />
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As I retreated to my car, a guy and some kids came around the corner and he was apparently the proprietor. He told me with a resigned shrug that they were now closed on Mondays and Tuesdays as if that was the most natural thing in the world. He suggested I try in Princeton, just down the road.<br />
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I did, and stuffed face on both a huge plate of meat and apple & berry crumble at the Kings Arms, but it led me to think about all the times I'd been lured in by pubs, bars and restaurants who were advertising stuff even though they were closed, because nobody could be fucking bothered to take in the signs for the night. It's enough to make you want to go on a killing spree, it really is.<br />
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Mah dinner.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287775487/in/dateposted-public/" title="115866820_10164301881635294_7177555688736874443_o"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287775487_7d72b6fcf8.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt="115866820_10164301881635294_7177555688736874443_o"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Mah dessert<br />
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Sunset on the way home.<br />
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Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-9405404464611282612020-07-20T22:06:00.000+02:002020-09-02T02:26:04.813+02:00UK Day 6: A good morning and an awful afternoonThe new week began well. I managed to get all my gear in one go so I wouldn't have to walk up those fucking stairs again and the drive to Battle Abbey went reasonably well. To all those who haven't been to the battle site of 1066 and all that, the battle did NOT take place at Hastings, but in a field several miles to the north.<br />
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A couple of years after the battle, the new King, William I, Duke of Normandy, on the supposed x-marks-the-spot where the former King, Harold Godwinson had fallen, decreed the building of an altar, around which rose a grand church.<br />
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The church was demolished shortly after the Dissolution of the monasteries (and all that) in 1538, by that magnificent fuck Henry VIII, but several old, old buildings were left and are standing even today or have been incorporated into new structures.<br />
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I took a stroll around the area (I had a longer stay there in 2011, when my legs were still somewhat working) and took a couple of photos of some buildings and the battle field, then fucked off outta there in about an hour, but not before nearly bankrupting myself in the museum store again.<br />
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The supposed x-marks-the-spot.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50286871723/in/dateposted-public/" title="109696257_10164294897570294_2537860362720981764_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50286871723_0803631fcf.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="109696257_10164294897570294_2537860362720981764_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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I also shot a video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296230392/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Battle Abbey 1"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296230392_df8399f80f.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Battle Abbey 1"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Views from the top.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287546106/in/dateposted-public/" title="110842767_10164294897275294_5189229239599740218_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287546106_d5eb028ae6.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="110842767_10164294897275294_5189229239599740218_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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The battlefield.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287546816/in/dateposted-public/" title="109782428_10164294897755294_1638978503372107280_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287546816_5896ebf711.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="109782428_10164294897755294_1638978503372107280_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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Again, a video:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296092881/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Battle Abbey 2"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296092881_fe3552f50d.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Battle Abbey 2"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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I love Tudor style buildings.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50286870743/in/dateposted-public/" title="115675132_10164294986870294_710998929472505817_o"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50286870743_44550a6b36.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="115675132_10164294986870294_710998929472505817_o"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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The next destination was the White Hart Hotel in Lewes, where Thomas Paine launched his political career in 1768. He apparently formed his own debating society, called "The Headstrong Club", where he began forming his radical ideas. Even though the building looks (and IS) ancient, not much remains of what was there in Paine's day; the building has undergone extensive renovations since. <br />
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I first visited Lewes in 2011 and just like then, seeing the place gave me goosebumps. Paine is one of the greatest revolutionaries of all times, and his work for the American Revolution in particular was extremely important. These are the times that try men's souls... oh yeah, still relevant to this day.<br />
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A video taken outside the White Hart Hotel:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50296099896/in/dateposted-public/" title="V Lewes TP"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/31337/50296099896_1ac1821bd9.jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="V Lewes TP"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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My soul was tried by the fact that the streets are so narrow, you need traffic lights to control the flow of traffic. Honestly, one ancient house going missing can't be the end of the world, can it?<br />
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Back then, I had stuffed a very tasty duck in my face but they were not serving food when I stepped inside to inquire, so I fucked off outta there and instead repaired to the pup "The Rights of Man" across the street.<br />
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The menu was a tad continental for a pub of that name, but when at last I got the bright idea to turn it, I found a decent looking burger option on the other side. The burger was good, but I dunno if it was the corona situation or just incompetence, but it went downhill from there.<br />
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I had mah burger outside this pub. I was good; I gave away the fries to two girls who were sitting next to me. I still gained 8kg on the trip. The Universe has it in for me.<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287723217/in/dateposted-public/" title="110113421_10164295209630294_2405769875202195087_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287723217_3fd8f8b36d.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="110113421_10164295209630294_2405769875202195087_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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It took me almost an hour to both order and eat my burger (that last part was over in five minutes) so I really had to step on it to try and reach my final destination, which was Winchester. I'd never been there and now I fear I never shall.<br />
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I managed to reach the place but found no parking and there was digging on the street where the city museum was, with only a one-way street coming the other way to escape out of there. So, I left in a huff and fuck Winchester.<br />
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Also, very much fuck the Day's Inn at the M3 outside Winchester, which led me to believe they had a type of room without which I never would have booked there. Cunts, the lot of them. What, you didn't think this trip would be all sunshine and flowers, did you?<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-86262327558731478822020-07-19T21:12:00.000+02:002020-09-02T01:57:07.597+02:00UK Day 5: Welcome to the real EnglandThe next day I set out without any breakfast. I had forgotten that I'd booked the first open hour at Rutupia (or Richborough in modern parlance), so I pretty much had to set off at once, but not before cuddling the lovely husky again.<br />
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I arrived about ten to and as I stood waiting patiently at the gate, more people started coming in, all of them families. I tried my utmost to practice ultimate social distancing throughout and succeeded in avoiding the little sickness machines.<br />
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I'd been to Rutupia twice before - in 2011 and 2012. It's an open space with parts of wall on three sides and some remains of foundations here and there. Experts differ, but this is one of the places mentioned as a possible site of the Roman landing place in 43AD and it was certainly one of the most important harbors for a couple of centuries.<br />
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Towards one of the walls (which was built around two hundred years later), were the remains of a "mansio", a building that was at times a hotel and clerical offices. There was also the foundation to a huge arch that at one point greeted travelers from the continent and also marked the beginning of the Roman road onward to Canterbury and London.<br />
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Informative panels, ftw!<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50287411516/in/dateposted-public/" title="110053329_10164289947850294_2581934230234481165_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50287411516_866e03c07c.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="110053329_10164289947850294_2581934230234481165_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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I walked around almost the whole perimeter. My legs were aflame towards the end, but I took it slow and easy.<br />
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After about an hour of idly strolling through the grounds and reading the highly informative placards put up by English Heritage, I set off towards Deal. Again, I had to cut that little project short, because I suddenly remembered that I had booked a noon visit to Dover Castle.<br />
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I'd also been to Dover before, in 2011, but back then I had been too tired to go see the war tunnels. Of course, they were closed now, due to the Corona virus. Meh!<br />
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I shot this video of the Keep and the surroundings in the courtyard:<br />
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The Romans built a lighthouse here and there may have been an Iron Age hillfort too. The present structure was started during the reign of Henry II, one of the most magnificent fucks to rule this island.<br />
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I shot this video inside the apartments. I apologize for the turning of the phone, I'm not used to these blasted contraptions:<br />
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Colorful furniture in the Royal bedrooms.<br />
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A map of the known world, such as it was.<br />
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Great Hall vibe.<br />
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More functional room...<br />
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From the basement.<br />
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Views from the roof.<br />
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I also shot a video up there. Again, sorry for the twisting and turning:<br />
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That building that looks like it's leaning against another one is what remains of the Roman lighthouse tower. I've been inside it, there's not much to see.<br />
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I strolled around the giant keep in the middle of the castle proper for about an hour before going to their café, where I bought chicken salad sandwiches, a small but very tasty lemon drizzle cake and scones with butter, jam and clotted cream. That last part was divine; it was gluttony in a small bite.<br />
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By now the rain had gone from periodical drizzle to really pouring down as I swept up the last few crumbs of clotted cream from its all too small container. I therefore went into their small but well stocked shop and spent a good half hour and almost 75 pounds in there and it was only by sheer force of willpower that I didn't give them my life savings.<br />
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Meanwhile, the rain had become even worse. I walked until I found shelter in the gatehouse together with another couple but after about a minute or so I mutter "fuck this" and set off for the car.<br />
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I regretted my decision about two steps into the pouring, soaking, English precipitation but there was only one way to go: Forward. Stoically, I walked as fast as my rotund body and poor legs would allow and five minutes later, drenched through like a drowned (fat) cat, I collapsed into the relative safety of my car.<br />
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I was not impressed with the English weather.<br />
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However, the Gods of travel still had one, nasty surprise up their sleeve. When I got to my hotel, which I had stayed at in 2011 but completely forgotten about, I found that I was now placed at the very top of the establishment.<br />
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So, I had to carry all my shit up the rickety, narrow stairs not once, but twice. Leaving anything was out of the question as Dover is notorious for petty theft. I had already been asked for money once by a panhandler and I did not like the way she looked at my car and my luggage, so no, everything had to go.<br />
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On the first trip, I hauled my large suitcase up the stairs. It was quite big, so maneuvering it up those narrow stairs was both difficult and exhausting. It was an excruciating ordeal, but I finally made it to the top, gasping like a fish on land when I finally dropped my stuff in my small room.<br />
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However, the second time was even worse. This time, I only had with me my computer case and my smaller suitcase; pound for pound it was lighter and easier to carry. What I hadn't counted on was that by now, my legs were shaky, and I was already out of breath.<br />
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Dear reader, it was horrible. Not for a no doubt fit, swell, beautiful young specimen of the human race such as yourself (for I expect nothing less of my readers) but for ME? An overweight, mortally out of shape, neuropathy-ridden fatso? Hah!<br />
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I walked and carried, walked and carried for what seem like an eternity. My legs were by now so tired and literally shaking that I had to put my things a few levels ahead, then drag myself up by leaning on them. Repeat and rinse, repeat and rinse. The last flight of stairs I was almost crawling.<br />
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Completely wrecked by the physical effort I swore never to repeat it more than necessary and so I didn't leave my room at all that afternoon and evening. I ate the four biscuits provided to me by management and a bag of chips (crisps) I had bought a couple of days before. That had me covered until the next morning.Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-42430285769659727692020-07-18T19:58:00.000+02:002020-08-30T21:06:05.902+02:00UK Day 4: Not bursting into flamesSaturday, I first drove towards Ashdown Forest to rekindle my love for Winnie the Pooh. I love the landscape around that place, but found the distances were longer, especially when I had to walk around with my neuropathy-ridden legs in the summer sun.<br />
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It was almost eight years since the last time, but I found the Enchanted Place just fine. However, the Sandy pit and the Heffalump trap eluded me. I dunno if there was even more vegetation now or if it was just that I was too tired to really make the effort.<br />
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"Galleons' Leap" in the books. Sigh.<br />
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Colorful vegetation.<br />
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A triangulation point.<br />
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Lovely pine tree. I love pines.<br />
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The Enchanted Place.<br />
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One of those benches with memorial plaques on. Much more sensible than a graveyard and much more quiet and dignified than a huge statue or memorial. Also, they're useful.<br />
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I then had to go through an endless series of traffic circles and tiny hamlets, narrow & winding roads and of course places where the vegetation overhead was so dense it formed what almost looked like a green, lush tunnel.<br />
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I finally made Canterbury, where upon the third try I managed to swing in to Queningate Car Park and leave the damn car for a stroll into town. I walked down a street and past the cathedral, to a small coffee shop. Here, I had a brunch consisting of a carrot cake and a chocolate chip milkshake.<br />
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The little square where the entrance to the Cathedral area is. You can see people lining up in the back.<br />
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There's lots of Tudor buildings around the square.<br />
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I sat in the sun and took in my surroundings. Tons of narrow streets and twisting alleyways and lots of people in the streets; a Bury on speed. It also contained several nationalities; I heard Italian, Dutch and German, plus some Slavic sounding ones.<br />
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View up the street from my outside table.<br />
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View down the street.<br />
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I was happy here.<br />
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After a while I went around the corner to the entrance to the Cathedral and was let inside. It was at least fifteen minutes before my supposed entry, but no one seemed to care, and I certainly wasn't complaining.<br />
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There was work being done on the outside of the huge cathedral and large scaffoldings had been put in place along a tower and a wall. Inside it was cool and dark and some of my pics came out so-so, because as usual, flash photography was verboten. Mustn't fuck up the color of the stone, or something like that.<br />
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It's effin huge.<br />
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The entrance area.<br />
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So effin huge.<br />
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Anyways, I settled for a pretty cursory look at most stuff in there; the only vaguely interesting things were the graves of Henry IV and The Black Prince, who, had he lived, would probably have led to there never being a Henry IV, at least not the one who was. If that makes any sense.<br />
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The Black Prince, I believe.<br />
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Henry IV and his missus.<br />
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Some modern arty-farty thingy.<br />
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A pulpit.<br />
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Purdy glass windows<br />
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The baptising fount.<br />
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I believe this altar stood at the very end of the long, long church building that is Canterbury Cathedral.<br />
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I then drove out to my lodgings for the night. It was the beginning of a rather interesting experience. I've chosen not to identify the place, since, although the behavior of the proprietor was appalling for a hotel owner and people with a weaker condition than yours truly would have been (justifiably) shocked and outraged, I actually had a good time.<br />
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I was met by a lady and shown to my room. I'd settled down with my water bottle to do some writing and some net surfing, when, appx. half an hour later, someone knocked on my door. It was the owner of the place, wondering about my payment details. I explained them as carefully as I could, and he seemed satisfied. At this point, I could not yet detect that he was, in fact, drunk as a skunk.<br />
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He also offered to make a dinner, which had not been part of the package on booking.com, but since I didn't have any plans for the evening I accepted. And he did make me an ok shepherd's pie, and a generous portion it was, too, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.<br />
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Anyways, I went downstairs at the appointed hour and the first thing that met me as I opened the door, was a beautiful husky who jumped right up on me and started slobbering me with kisses. Now, I love dogs and don't mind this kind of thing at all, but I realize there are people who would be terrified if something like this had happened to them.<br />
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I then talked a bit to the proprietor and soon got the notion that something was very off. With five minute intervals, he kept asking me the same questions or would tell me something he'd already said. <br />
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His accent wasn't difficult to discern as such, but he had this working class twist that still made him pretty difficult to follow and the fact that he was getting more and more drunk as the evening progressed didn't exactly make things better.<br />
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Now, like I said, the dinner wasn't half bad, and he also made good on his promise of a good dessert with berries and ice cream. He even brought cheese and crackers afterwards although I protested that I was stuffed.<br />
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Throughout this, the dog was sniffing around and came up to the table to beg all the time. I'm used to this and don't mind in the slightest, but I know my opinion is colored by having to fight off cats and dogs for my meals for most of my formative years, to exaggerate just a teensy, weensy bit.<br />
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The proprietor also pulled up a chair and started talking to me, or rather volunteering information about himself and his two ex-wives that I hardly felt I should be privy to. Personally, I was simply feeling entertained, but there are people who by now would justly be upstairs, packing their bags and calling their lawyer.<br />
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I won't go into more details about the conversation, such as it was, so as not to identify the place and the man, but this is not the way to run a hotel, not the way to meet a customer and not the way to talk about your private affairs.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-88947899474846683772020-07-17T19:51:00.000+02:002020-08-30T22:48:40.930+02:00UK Day 3: The Beautiful SouthFriday, I started off with a half hour drive to Lavenham, reputedly one of England's finest medieval towns. It did not disappoint. I drove through town and turned around again, starting with Lavenham church. Built in the 1400s sometime, but who's counting. There was a square top on the church tower, more like a fortress than an ecclesiastical building. This is something you will only see in Suffolk and Norfolk.<br />
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The drive took me through leafy woods.<br />
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It almost felt like driving through a green tunnel.<br />
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Lovely, old church.<br />
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Then followed a succession of quaint, cute, nerve-racking buildings, from the loveliest of Tudor houses to the ricketiest looking piece of junk. But all very charming and nice to look at and to photograph.<br />
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On my way in I had stopped and taken a photo of the place name "Cockfield" and in town there was a pub called "The Cock Horse". On my way south, I passed the settlement of Assington. I've seen enough Beavis and Butthead (and I am certainly immature enough) to snicker at such names.<br />
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*Insert Beavis & Butthead snicker*<br />
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I believe you have the word order wrong.<br />
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I then left the car and walked around the streets of Lavenham. I saw ancient, rickety houses - not pubs, regular houses where people live - people milling about, doing shopping and other errands, people walking their dogs, stopping to let their respective mutts sniff one another.<br />
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The sun was shining, and it was all very peaceful and cordial and friendly. An essentially Anglo-Saxon town, where Anglo-Saxons were going about their Anglo-Saxon lives in an Anglo-Saxon way. Oh, how I love and adore this island.<br />
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I was lazy enough to drive down and finally get a legal parking spot outside the local co-op. I took more pictures and then ventured inside to shop diet sodas and some food. I probably came out with more unhealthy stuff than I had intended, but… hey, I was on vacation! Don't judge me!<br />
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This had once been a priory, built in the 1200s.<br />
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Door to a secret garden? I do lubs me some Engerlish mystery.<br />
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View from the bus stop where I sat down and stuffed face.<br />
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There's was small number of tourists walking around taking pictures and gawping at the buildings, but I did not hear a single word spoken in anything but English. Mmmmmmmm!<br />
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I drove narrow, terrifying lanes until I finally reached a four lane highway going south. Now, somewhere along the way, I put the phone on charging from the car. I think that was when the phone decided not to let me hear the directions anymore. Long story short, I wasted an hour driving deep into Essex, heading for Southend on Sea, instead of southwest to Gatwick.<br />
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After one false try, I found my hotel and stayed there for the rest of the evening, tired but in good spirits after a great day out.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-75162031415495562872020-07-16T22:00:00.000+02:002020-08-30T12:21:20.139+02:00UK Day 2: Return to FramlinghamThe next morning, I drove out to Framlingham Castle, appx.45-60 mins east of town. I'd been there once before, but this time I had to actually book my ticket due to the corona situation.<br />
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They opened at 10, but I had chosen 11 o'clock and that was a wise decision, not just because it meant one more hour of sweet sleep, but there was so much road work and confusing and conflicting signposting of diversions that I spent half an hour on pointless maneuvers way the fuck out in the English countryside.<br />
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Once at the castle I was never asked for proof of my membership in Historic Scotland (the sister organization of English Heritage, which owns Framlingham). I even got the 10% discount given to members when I bought gifts but never had to show my card. The English, like the Norwegians are really way too trusting for their own good.<br />
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Framlingham is still a very castly castle. (Yes, I have turned "castle" into an adjective. Wanna make something of it, grammar Nazi?)<br />
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Old ruins. Mmmmmmm!<br />
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You could lose your head if you mucked about with heraldry.<br />
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I bought half a dozen of these as gift tokens for mah colleagues.<br />
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Costumes! I want to dress up! Bwaaaaaah!<br />
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Sho, sho cozy with the lake.<br />
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Here, I should like to make a few observations on English driving culture. On the motorways, they seem very polite and considerate. Generally speaking, you don't need to flash your lights or honk to get people out of the fast lane; they will pay attention to traffic around them, including behind them just fine.<br />
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But they also expect you to drive insanely fast, even along narrow country lanes or in highly pedestrianized towns and cities. In Norway, I tend to drive quite a bit faster than the posted speed limits (note to Norwegian law enforcement officers reading this: It's just for dramatic effect. Uhm, yeah), but in the UK, I've finally become the slowpoke everybody honks at.<br />
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Framlingham was nice enough but not all that interesting, so I left after less than an hour. First, I drove off at random, and then I put in the address in my phone and it took me back to Bury by another and much faster road than I had come. Such is the mysteries of modern map science.<br />
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Back in Bury, I decided to walk a little around the old city center. It's a city with lots of narrow little one-way streets and very cute looking houses, sometimes with flowers hanging outside them. It has a big abbey with a nice garden behind it and there's even a statue to the local fallen in the effin Boer War.<br />
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Cozy, Engerlish street.<br />
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Old building.<br />
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The Boer War memorial.<br />
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Another lovely building.<br />
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Yet another store name I don't think you'd find in the US...<br />
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The city also hosts a splendid little local history museum, the Moyle's Museum. It has a very nice exhibition about torture instruments and witch burnings with just the right touch of cruelty to make it interesting. It's also manned by cheerful, nice people… although I was the only visitor I ever saw, and they had two people manning the tills so maybe there's room for some budget cuts.<br />
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"<i>She turned me into a newt!</i>"<br />
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This kinky collection could probably be found in any number of middle class homes these days.<br />
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I walked a little more, taking pictures of several nice little streets before stopping in to stuff face at a café. Sadly, they had just stopped serving from the lunch menu, but they had a sausage in that horrible pastry thingy that flakes all over your clothes.<br />
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I also stuffed an Oreo milkshake with whipped cream into my breadhole, but all the walking must have done something good to my blood sugar, because when I measured it two hours later, it wasn't any higher than what it had been that morning.<br />
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I hung around my lodgings for several hours, keeping updated on news and gossip and then went out and had possibly the finest Indian meal ever at the VC restaurant.<br />
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Back at the pub more than an hour later, I was regaled with stories by this old guy I'd seen sitting in the pub the night before. He was in his 80s, but still fairly sharp and had tons of stories from all over the world.<br />
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Born in Liverpool in the mid-1930s, he'd been in the army for 18 years and had served in many countries all over Africa, Asia and South America, but he told me he couldn't give specifics because he'd been sworn to secrecy. He did mention Uganda (remember this was in the 1950s probably).<br />
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Furthermore, he'd met a shitload of country artists in the US, Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels among them. He played country and 50s pop all night on the jukebox and we talked music and stuff for hours. <br />
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He also confirmed to me my adage that even after two wars against the Krauts, the British still hated the French more. He told me that most British servicemen detested the snail eaters but respected the Krauts. He also said he loved Scandinavians. All in all, a nice end to the evening, and a confirmation that even though old castles and museums are good, real people are better.<br />
Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-15493158224820131102020-07-15T22:00:00.000+02:002020-08-30T12:01:49.010+02:00UK Day 1: Travel in the time of corona<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Having had my April trip to South Africa cancelled due to the fucking corona virus, I was desperate to travel again. Four months of forced isolation seem almost unendurable when you HAVE to stay somewhere.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Norwegian government in its infinite wisdom had decided that it would announce on July 10 which countries would be excepted from the general travel advice NOT TO GO ANYWHERE, which was also governing for what the insurance companies would accept.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lo and behold, Engerland popped up as one of the blessed countries and I immediately booked a flight and started looking for hotels and stuff, cheap car deals etc, etc. Planning was, as always, half the fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I flew out on Wednesday the 15<sup>th</sup>, which was opening day for travel to and from Norway. The flight was uneventful, except for the part where I almost couldn't breathe because I had to wear a fucking mask throughout. Also, having one's mouth and nose covered really brings to mind the importance of dental hygiene…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I picked up my rental car and drove up to Bury St Edmund in Suffolk, East Anglia. I've been in the general area twice before, but never really stayed nor ventured much into the actual town. I drove in and with the aid of my shmartphone I managed to drive straight to my hotel.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I first stopped to pick up some provisions...</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I was lodged over this pub. Nice place and reasonably priced. Can you imagine this sign being put up in the US? I think not.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I had some Chinese food from an establishment right next door. Ok food, but Chinese remains underwhelming, especially compared to Indian.</span><br />
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Way too sugary but otherwise ok.<br />
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This dog, which belonged to the owner of the pub, became my bestestest friend while there was still the chance that I would feed her. However, I was told the dog was on a strict diet, so I didn't. She then lost all interest. <span dir="ltr"><span class="_3l3x">She wouldn't come to me when I made soothing sounds, but for some reason she came right over when I opened a can of diet coke. At first I didn't understand but then it struck me - the sound is the same as that of a can of dog food being opened and the old girl prolly recognized it.</span></span><br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50284624428/in/dateposted-public/" title="109930157_10164271637015294_6537120793416318365_o"><img alt="109930157_10164271637015294_6537120793416318365_o" height="372" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50284624428_15ee3a2302.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-53335043231903095962020-07-12T11:30:00.001+02:002020-07-12T11:30:15.354+02:00Trip to EngerlandLast week, the fucking Government finally announced open borders with most of Europe and I promptly went online to book a flight to good, old Engerland. 'tis luverly there in summer and I shall putter around the south, taking in the beautiful, rolling landscapes that inspired everything from Lord of the Rings to Winnie the Pooh.<br />
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Below is my itinerary. Rental car and hotels have already been booked. I'm not sure its my stinginess or my imagination, but I think the hotel prices have dropped somewhat due to the Corona virus; an average price of £47 per night is not bad for southern Engand in summer time. I'm also going to return to Stonehenge, just to see it once - fucking ONCE - without having the view blocked by a gazillion Asians with cams on sticks.<br />
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I've also never done the actual city of Bury St. Edmund, so I'm looking forward to that. Add an afternoon in Canterbury to the list. In addition, Winchester, Bath and High Wycombe are completely new to me, so merit further investigation.<br />
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Wed 15 Oslo - Gatwick - Bury<br />
Thu 16 Bury - Framlingham - Bury<br />
Fri 17 Bury - Lavenham - Gatwick<br />
Sat 18 Gatwick - Canterbury - Chilham<br />
Sun 19 Chilham - Richborough - Dover<br />
Mon 20 Dover - Battle Village - Lewes - Winchester<br />
Tue 21 Winchester - Postbridge<br />
Wed 22 Postbridge - Bath<br />
Thu 23 Bath<br />
Fri 24 Bath - Leamington Spa<br />
Sat 25 Leamington Spa - High Wycombe<br />
Sun 26 High Wycombe<br />
Mon 27 High Wycombe - Stonehenge - Salisbury<br />
Tue 28 Salisbury - Crawley<br />
Wed 29 Crawley - GatwickGhost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9658547.post-1231847636680965592020-07-10T21:43:00.000+02:002020-09-12T02:48:16.305+02:00A quick scenic trip to ValdresTook a short drive up to a very scenic part of Valdres, called Vestringsbygda. At the top, there's good views and a very pretty waterfall, as you can see.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50331396188/in/dateposted-public/" title="107800055_10164244718200294_3297811147224726618_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50331396188_8bc74cf77a.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="107800055_10164244718200294_3297811147224726618_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghostofgoldwater/50332243092/in/dateposted-public/" title="107800055_10164244718115294_5820597384831170724_n"><img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/50332243092_df1a327b8a.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="107800055_10164244718115294_5820597384831170724_n"></a><script async src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js" charset="utf-8"></script>Ghost of Goldwaterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04827649024006735746noreply@blogger.com0