From beach to barn

Bidding a sad farewell to Cornwall we once again headed north on Wendesday the 24th and made our way into deepest Somerset. Unfortunately while my copilot dozed after several hours on the road I misheard the muffled instructions from the cellphone satnav and missed our motorway off ramp. As seems to happen when travelling, things then continued to go downhill as our wrong route then got us stuck in a gaggle of traffic with large trucks filling three lanes. Already annoyed with myself about the exit mistake I decided to hang back and just go with the flow a bit, mindful not to invite any further issues since we were hoping to get to our destination in time to have a look around before the evening. Right about that time there was an almighty BOOMF as a rock about the size of a tennis ball ricocheted off our front bumper like it had been hit by a cricket bat and bounced off down the road ahead of us. At this point I swore loudly. 

On arrival at destination, after a bit of a diversion, I got out to inspect the damage and sure enough it was as bad as you would generally expect a rock hitting a plastic bumper at 70mph to be... Not only scraped but also dented and cracked. Having established when we picked up the car that part of the reason the company had cheaper rental rates was due to their extortionate 'damage' fees ("any scratch or stone chip over 1mm in paint or windscreen will be charged... Damage excess is £750 or pay £18 per day to lower the excess...") we had been treating our much disliked Astra with kid gloves and flinching every time we drove over loose gravel... Only the day before I had found a scratch on the inner edge of the drivers door that wasn't noted when we inspected the car on pickup and was already anticipating an argument over that. With only one day to go on the rental I had hoped we might get out unscathed...

So now being in a 'right grump' I probably wasn't immediately in the mood to properly appreciate where we had ended up, which was in fact the expansive Haynes Motor Museum, established by the Haynes family of Haynes Owner's Manuals fame, the largest in the UK. However before long the camera was out and I was once again marvelling at many wonderful things with wheels, many displays much more UK focused than other places I have been, which gave a nice local flavour... Although in honesty there is only so much time I can spend looking at Morris, Wolsleys and Hillmans. Astons and Ferraris on the other hand...

And Auburns and Dusenbergs...

And V16 Madame X Cadillacs

And the odd Countach and XJ220

Then add in a fair amount of Americana and some other bits, and I was happy as a pig in very expensive poop.

We were back to the museum to finish the second half the next morning, then it was on the road and London bound. We stopped long enough to throw bags off at our kind host's house and then it was off to face the music with the rental car company. After about another hour in London traffic. 

Our only hope re the rental car return was that the staff would be as inept as they were when we picked it up, and the place would be just as packed with irate customers waiting an hour or more to pick a car up or drop it off... As it turned out there were actually more staff around than customers, although the competence quotient had not increased. We stood for a while listening to yet another rant from a disgruntled customer who was engaging half the office staff and arguing, quite fairly I thought, that it was extortionate that he was being charged for a scratch he had put on a wheel that already had two large curb gouges on it, meaning that likely two previous customers had also been charged for damage to the same wheel... Effectively meaning the company would have charged three times for one repair... Which they also hadn't actually had carried out. Pretty futile though, as some young corporate rental car drone in a business shirt recited the company damage charging policy verbatim in a mindless pseudo-polite voice that made you instantly want to inflict violence to his facial region. 

Our moment of reckoning came in the form of one of the mid level vehicle ranglers who we had seen on our first visit, also a chap of mediocre competence and patchy English, not ranked high enough to rent cars out, but tasked with running around fetching and sorting vehicles and, as it turned out, handling returns. He efficiently bustled out to where I had parked the car, behind another row of vehicles facing nose-in so you didn't get a view of the front from any distance... Still brisk and efficient he ran his hands over each wheel looking for curbing, bent down and eyeballed both sides for door dings, looked inside for interior issues, scrutinised the windscreen for chips, walked around the front and bent down... He walked back, clipboard in hand, complete with the diagram of the car with all the individual scratches and stone chips noted from our pickup inspection. He looked like he was frowning a bit. But then he generally did anyway. He held out the clipboard with the diagram. I eyeballed the front of the little car in the picture, conscious that there was no noting saying "Hole in bumper" when we signed to take possession of it... He said, in some thick accent or other "All good! No damage." And with, that we signed it off...

Now you might think that would be the end of it, and technically it was, since our friend had signed the car back in as inspected and a-ok... (And for all I know he might have noted the dint in the front and ignored it, as it seemed the staff had quite a different standard as to what damage was worth reporting than the managers did...). But having seen the various dramas with other customers I knew it would be distinctly possible that they might try to ping us for the bumper even after the fact. What followed was an extremely long 15 minutes standing in the dusty yard, waiting for the courtesy van of salvation to whisk us to the train station, during which time we watched the car being driven away to be cleaned... And I knew once he had hosed the bugs off, the cleaning guy, if he was even remotely competent, would know he should probably check to see if the rather decent rock impact to the front bumper had been noted in the inspection, lest he get blamed for it... No van came... We acted casual, next noting the cleaning guy a few minutes later coming back and getting one of the business shirt wearing reps, clipboard in hand, and taking him around to the cleaning bay... Minutes passed.. Slowly... No van... Then that rep walked back to the portacabin office... Then headed back toward our car in the company of the suited manager... The same anally retentive one who had actually signed the car over to us on day 1, and 'Tsk tsked' when we did the initial inspection at the number of "chargeable" minute stone chips that had not been noted on the car's sheet... And then I knew what was coming... The arguing... The finger pointing at clipboard diagram... The attempts to get us to fess up even though all parties had signed off on the return form... But actually what came first was the van, just at that moment, and in we piled and away we went, beaming with silent gratitude at the talkative and not inconsiderably smelly (or was that the other American passenger in the front?) shuttle driver. 

So, if ever you find yourself travelling to the UK, do ask me (if I know you) what rental car company NOT to use, although I will not mention them here for fear of litigation.

Suitably buoyed by our good fortune and somewhat minorly celebratory, it was back on the train once again (feeling like a right Londoner by now!! Quite proficient at standing around pressed up against strangers these days...) and into the city for a proper session at a proper pub full of proper (?) Londoners. I am not sure they were real proper Londoners mind you because nobody got stabbed or head butted or started a soccer... Oops, 'football'... riot... Oh well, guess my cultural experience is as yet incomplete. I must endeavour to make a list of the pubs we have frequented actually, it would be quite long... One thing I like about England, there is a nice old pub or a nice old church pretty much on every corner. Anyway, a good night out was had and then back on the trains and home to bed... Also without any stabbings or other kinds of murders. Thus endeth Thursday. 

And then places southward

From then gentle children our party migrated places south... Once again enjoying the English road system for all its joys and curses. On the bright side they don't really abide by any speed limits when there are ample lanes for everyone... On the downside, if you, perhaps, for instance, come across a guy towing a full sized yacht, with full keel and all, down a two way country road, you may be looking at the back of him for quite some time. And such it was on the trip to Falmouth.

 We drove Wales to Falmouth via an outlet mall, where I was hoping to find some shoes and a couple of other bits, which didn't work out at all in the end. As always, I proved myself crap at shopping and quickly lost interest In anything I was actually supposed to be looking for. What we did find is that the Welsh have adapted to outlet malls in a similar fashion to our American friends, in that they have learned to flock there to share obesity and bad food in some sort of retail context. Nobody seems to buy anything from any of the shops, but the foodcourt does great business. We did however invest in a cheap wheelie suitcase following the demise of our previous wheelie bag, which turned into some sort of perverse science experiment in London when we suffered a wheel issue on arrival, but I persevered to drag it heavily laden across more than a few kilometers of asphalt from train to hotel to train to other places. The result was, inevitably, terminal failure -

                                        

I did in the end stop dragging it when it threatened to catch fire

From the mall we drove, and drove some more. Eventually we made it to the deep dark south of the whole place, and I have to say Falmouth is quite pretty, as a local who knows commented, it is probably closest in climate and such to home. I would have liked go have gone all the way south, time permitting, there is something I find very satisfying in reaching the furtherest extent of wherever I am... but we came pretty close. A lot of people get to the UK and then don't get that far down, but it is well worth a look. 

                        

It is, I think, a very pretty spot, with a lot of history going for it. Plus it has beaches, and, apparently, surf, sometimes, as does Wales. Not on a sunny, calm and clear couple of days like we had through. But no complaints.

                         

Indeed before long we were out for another swim and a bit of lying around on the beach, once again not the weather advertised before we turned up... Along the way we checked out the famous docks and a couple of forts here and there, all par for the course in your average English holiday spot. We also ate Cornish pasties and had cream tea, ensuring I took part in the full cultural experience. As such a couple more blissfully chilled days with nothin in particular to rant about.. But fear not, more of that to come also. Signing off on a rather relaxed note. Hope you are all enjoying sun and beaches also!

A Welshman walked into a bar and said...

Gall i gael cwrw os gwelwch yn dda...

Three nights in Wales passed far too quickly, but we managed to pack in some traditional Welsh activities such as drinking beer, walking on cliffs, and outlet mall shopping. Our time was spent mostly in and around ridiculously picture-postcard cute and idyllic Welsh villages such as Newport and Fishguard. These are obviously not the Welsh names for them though, as they are, naturally, entirely unpronounceable. I mean honestly Wales, a word with seven consonants and one vowel is not a word.

                                                         

The scenery was nothing short of beautiful in places, although you could easily imagine that the wonderful weather we had on days three and four was possibly not the way things look all year round. The coast was once home to many hardy fishermen, and I am guessing it was not the place to come for an easy living during winter months...

  

                                                         

However we were blessed with some brilliant sunshine and even made it out to the beach for a swim.... Well, ok I am the only one who swam, and not exactly tropical in the Irish Sea but I have been much colder 

  

Fun fact - in some traditional areas, Welsh fisherman still use small specially trained dogs, called Ci Hela Crancod, to seek out and catch large sea crabs, incapacitating them by tearing off their pincers in vicious struggles. Every year many small dogs are lost this way, either dragged into the deep or through losing noses or limbs to the crabs.

So overall as you have probably gathered impressions of the UK are pretty good so far. Most things remain very familiar and I can see why so many people from home come here to stay and why so many from here like it over our way. Despite the traditional stereotypes there is plenty of good food here, SOME good beer, and the people are mostly decent folk. Some issues do exist though... I mean for starters, the cars are pretty rubbish. Granted most people drive pretty decent cars here, it seems prices are cheap enough that most people have a pretty late model set of wheels. That being said, you don't see many nice ones. Ok there are BMWs and Audis by the million, but most are pretty bland lower or middle models. Thus far in the entire trip I think I have seen only one Ferrari on the road, in London, one TVR, one M3, a couple of old MGs, a single Morgan.... I mean Poms are supposed to be car lovers like the rest of us right? Ok I saw one later model MG also, it was a bright yellow four door with a ridiculous big wing on the back and big MG stickers on it... I think it was supposed to be a 'performance model'... It was hard to tell while I was overtaking it in the world's slowest most rubbish Vauxhall...

Oh yeah and about overtaking.... They apparently don't believe in it here... Seriously these people will sit in an endlessly long procession of vehicles behind a slow moving truck for days. Possibly due to refined English sensibilities it is considered 'rude', I am not sure. Granted it can be a tricky proposition when the roads are so narrow and winding... Especially in an asthmatic Astra which makes all overtaking a dice with death. After being on the road for a while I turned to my copilot and asked if they actually had passing lanes in this county. She replied "Yes, of course we do..."  I commented that I hadn't seen one since we left London and she came back with "Well we have only been driving for a couple of days..." ... My mistake then... 

So clearly passing anything on a road which may, one day, at some stage, have oncoming traffic is completely out of the question for most Brits. But then give them a two or more lane motorway and suddenly half of them want to be doing 100mph. Literally. And then we get on to proving the stereotypes we already know so well (although these OBVIOUSLY don't apply at home...*cough*) but as confirmed by Top Gear: Most late model German Car drivers - dicks. Van drivers - dicks. Drivers of Ford Focuses, small Peugots, medium Peugots, large Peugots, Citroens, Volvos, Minis - dicks. Range Rover drivers - dicks. Actually I think you can pick personalities by cars over here more so than at home, as I do know people who drive some of the above at home who are actually not complete dicks. But some of them also are. 

I do hate to cast aspersions on my host nation but I do think the driving standards here are a bit worse. Ok maybe if you don't count certain cultural demographics back in my home city. The cyclists here are even more mentally deficient and suicidal. Although when we left, London was hosting a massive event for the start of the Tour of UK cycle race or whatever it is called and I thought 'How nice, seeing them embracing diversity and alternative sexual life choices like that'... Truck drivers here seem to regard other motorists primarily as an annoyance which they can bully or ignore, I assume most of them had fairly unpleasant childhoods and suffered from pants wetting until their mid teens. Vans are frequently driven by people too poor or too mentally incapacitated to be able to get hold of a truck. Who probably stole them. I am not sure what to make of the various guys I have seen riding around on Harleys... I mean it may seem to them like the ultimate in rebellion (being stuck in the 1980s and all) but the reality is that they are so ridiculously out of place here that they look even more desperately try-hard and lame than they do in most other countries. Same goes for the handful of people I have also seen driving around in new Dodge and Jeep 4x4s and the like... I mean really? What is up with that? Trying to prove your individuality by standing out as far more stupid than all those around you? What image are you trying to convey by spending more money on a worse car?

And what the HELL is the British obsession with roundabouts?? Really?? You can drive for hours literally from one roundabout to the next. You get off a roundabout and there is a sign for the next roundabout. I am not joking. And this is not just in town, this is out in the country, on roads that you are trying to use to get from one location to another. If you have satnav, you are on a roundabout and it is going "Take the second exit on this roundabout... In 200 metres, at the next roundabout..." I think we actually found the ultimate today, in a double roundabout. Literally a figure-8 roundabout. I still haven't yet figured out how it was supposed to work, I just gritted my teeth and went for the far side...

Anyway I will stop slagging off my fellow motorists and Brit driving in general for now. I would possibly be less bitter if it wasn't for our rubbish hire car provided by our rubbish car hire company. More slagging off of them to come. Time here is ticking along quickly but we are having a good time, certainly finding many, many more things that are going on the list for next time I get here. Stay well all, more soon

A quick couple of days to catch up, almost

The 18th saw us begrudgingly leaving the Fuzzy Duck, after another pretty darn good Full English Breakfast of course... We set off exploring a bit and covered a few bases. In Stratford on Avon we stopped by the house where old Willy Shakespeare was born 

And pottered around looking like tourists a bit, taking photos of four hundred year old pubs and wonky Tudor buildings of various descriptions...

                    

                                                                 

Amazing how some of them keep standing up... We also headed out to spots like Lapworth and Alveston for a stroll, and found some more ancestral stomping grounds and a couple of nice and rather ancient churches

           

Having scratched the history itch significantly enough to last us for a while we headed out to Hereford to call on some friends nearby and there we spent a most pleasant night being hosted and drinking wine into the late hours as we pondered the results of the Scottish referendum as they slowly filtered through. Fair to say all of us, even the proper Scot amongst us, were pleased with the result, which will hopefully continue to benefit all involved. 

The 19th was a bit of a travel day as we busted out westward and headed 'over the border' and into Wales. Needless to say from the first minutes I was both intrigued and confused by the dual-language road signs which actually DID make the English ones suddenly seem much more easy to understand after all. Wales though seems just as pretty as England and just as packed with quirky and quaint little spots, although I really can't tell you what any of them are actually called...

  

I am advised the bottom one is pronounced 'Comewilly'

Still, nice to look at -

Although as expected a bit cloudy and murky.... Which is what you would hope for in Wales really. On the bright side it is not at all cold just yet so we are thankful for that. And the signs are endless entertainment...

                   

                                                             

I mean really Wales? Really???       'Cyflyrydd' ???!?!!

I will not waffle at length this time around as we are nearly up to date and I will tell you all about where we ended up in the next installment. Needless to say the array of beer and cider pictured earlier has featured, along with various other bits and pieces. I will point out though that just added to the Obscure Music Reference list is Alt-J, another band out of the UK who have stormed to prominence in some circles in the last year or so. We were gutted to find they are in fact touring the UK at the moment but we couldn't make a concert date coincide with our itinerary, so missing out on what would have been a pretty awesome experience there. They do, however, have their second album out now which I have to recommend you have a listen to, perhaps after the first one, which won the Mercury Prize here as many good bands have before (PJ Harvery and Elbow recently just for starters). To say Alt-J like to experiment a bit is really the ultimate in understatement, it took me a while to begin with to decide whether they were genius or just pretentious ridiculous nonsense... I am leaning toward the former. Their music is complex, surprising, endlessly catchy, at times confusing, and very subjective. It's hard to even put into a category, 'alternative experimental rock' really doesn't cover it at all. Not even close. A first listen may raise more questions than answers but persistence pays off... I also recommend looking at some of their live stuff on YouTube, they are talented young guys... But listen to 'A Perfect Wave' in album form first, let me know what you think.

I will leave you now though with a photo of our current transport, just to get you all jealous. She 

has never looked so good 

There she is, in all her glory. Behind a sweet Ducati. 

If the almost-words of the great Hunter S. Thompson...

Once you get locked into a serious beer and cider collection, the tendency is to push it as far a you can...

             

That is tonight in Wales, I decided it was only right to do a sampling of the local... However we are not up to Wales just yet. We are somewhere around the night of the 16th and the rather adorable little 400 year old Ebrington Arms pub in the picture postcard area of Chipping Campden (having come to England I thought it would be nice to be in a country where the place names make sense and are easy to understand... Being in English and all... I was mistaken). 

              

The pub however was very nice, having recently started brewing their own beer, Yubby, and we enjoyed an excellent restaurant quality country meal (I had the ultra rare-cooked pigeon starter with scorched lettuce, and pork loin and belly for a main and a Baked Alaska for dessert which I think was the most intensely sugar-packed thing ever created by man... I think they somehow found a way to infuse sugar with more sugar and then coat it in concentrated sugar and then put it in marshmallow form...), then we moved on from Italian wine to port in the peaceful country garden. As with the East End Arms the bar area retained it's traditional ancient character while the rooms were modern and exceptionally comfortble and well appointed. All jolly civilised.

          

                                            

Following a very decent Full English Breakfast (when in Rome... Mmmmm black pudding) we were off in the (un)mighty Vauxhall again and found our way into the tidy little town of Warwick, deep in the heart of countryside that was walked by some of my ancestors... skyline still dominated by the famous and imposing Warwick Castle as it would have been back in their day.

             

Warwick is a good day out for anyone interested in such things with a live 'dungeon' display and a link in to the Merlin TV show to keep the kids happy, and some interesting history for the grown ups. Now owned by a private concern that operates it as an attraction, the castle contains rooms set up in the style of different periods and a nice collection of armour and weapons. 

          

                 

Oliver Cromwell's death mask in the background there. The first fortifications on the site were built around the year 1000 and it has been an established seat of power since, including being a stronghold beseiged during the civil war.

        

                

We strolled Warwick village and I found a couple of interesting antique shops, but again refrained from purchasing anything too excessive. Swords and armour are still on the list though. A must for the mancave apartment... After that it was back out to the country and down more narrow winding lanes between high hedgerows, finally ending up at the not-so-traditionally named Fuzzy Duck boutique pub and hotel... Which we were most happy to find was even nicer again than the last one... For dinner was pigeon again for entree and (appropriately) a very nice piece of duck for dinner, a bottle of nice French vino and once again into the garden on a warm and fresh English night for a wine after. 

 

                                                           

Excuse me while I disappear into a happy place...

16 Sept... Today was a good day...

After a pleasant little stay at the East End Arms we rose and headed down the road a bit, past a few more scenic cottages and ponds and landscapes and through herds of donkeys and horses... I quickly noticed there were no fences anywhere, generally meaning you are driving across somebody's estate... And ended up at our primary objective of the day, the Beaulieu Motor Museum... 

Now anyone who has read anything I have written in the past several years is going to know how this is going to go, so whether you carry on or not is up to you... Basically Beaulieu is the estate of a rather well off family by the name of Montagu and they are car fanciers who have amongst other things set up a rather decent branch of the British National Motoring Museum there, which is jolly good of them. As I am finding in Britain they have again gone for quality over quantity, but in saying that it is certainly not lacking in size.

Where to start really... They have the whole 'evolution of the motorcar' thing as most places do, with some incredible old vehicles of two, three and four wheels from the first cycle cars and steam wagons and all that super-vintage stuff... All very fascinating... But really at the end of the day everyone really just wants to know about the really good bits... The bits that leave you standing there walking around and around one car with your mouth open... The bits that find you taking 50 photos of the same car from every conceivable angle (yes, yes this is what I do on holiday...). And even then there are too many to cover here. As such I am not going to waffle I am just going to say - 

The Bugatti Type 15 of 1910, the second oldest Bugatti in existence - 

A 1907 Itala

A 1902 Napier D50

A 1935 Auburn 851 Boattail Speedster - ever since my childhood one of my favourite cars of all time, and sister to the one I saw in Vegas... Quite simply one of the most beautiful things in all creation

  

But wait, right next to that, a Cord 810 of the same era... I mean just look at the two together. Words fail me...

 

And just a few cars down, a 1928 Mercedes 36/220... Just stunning

  

This could go on for days.... I mean... 

BLUEBIRD!!! 

Another of my 'Greatest Ever', the Blower Bentley 

And on...and on... And on... And then there way a whole other area with all these odd bits...

Needless to say, pretty awesome. Plus a massive motorcycle display... Many, many more cool cars... Many, many, many more photos of every hinge, bolt, door handle, gas cap... The Ducatis... The Veyron Super Sport... Etc etc

From there it was all kind of a happy blur. With full camera and dosey satiated look on face I ended up at another very lovely English pub boutiquey hotel place courtesy of my ever-organised guide/minder... Which I should take the time to tell you about... Tomorrow... Now, sleep.