love those cupcakes

Interruption

We're off on our travels again. 

To Canada and Alaska this time. 

With me hobbling my way round on my sprained ankle.

Boo knows something's afoot (see what I did there?).

He's going to stay with a pet carer in Darlington.

All back early June.

Filling in the gap

A three day drive through England, France and most of Spain wasn't top of my list of fun activities but with a couple of nights in pet friendly hotels and a comfortable seat  (admittedly less comfortable after 6 hours straight driving)  in the over filled car it wasn't so bad.  The Boo, I would have to say, behaved impeccably and proved himself the perfect uncomplaining travel companion. Having never been one for reading whilst travelling by road I wasn't anticipating digging into the stache of books I'd packed but once we hit the quieter (and straighter) motorways of France and Spain I just sat back (the mister did all the driving) and enjoyed a couple of novels which certainly helped pass the time.  

Our stay in Spain was puntuated by reading the remainder of the book pile plus a few extras (a couple of books deserve a post of their own), some gentle pottering (me) and odd jobbing around the house (him, though the services of Boris  had to be secured to tidy up our palm tree which is now taller than the house), a lot of eating (including the obligatory churros y chocolate and now I really do need to lose some weight), a little shopping (we came across a shop selling hand carved Pinochios of various sizes) and a fair bit of quaffing of the red stuff. 

Elaborate Semana Santa processions were in evidence over Easter, culminating locally in the Burial of the Sardine (yes, I did wonder if I'd heard that right) celebration with its strange mix of decorated floats each depicting the sardine and a Greek god, scantily clad Brazilian dance groups, Sardinero torch bearers in their tall, pointy hats and the throwing of thousands of toys to the crowds lining the streets before finally setting fire to the sardine. (No pictures, unfortunately.)

In his wisdom, the mister decided to drive home via a different route (up the left hand side of the map) with an overnight stay in Millau in the Mid Pyrenees, a town with an impressive viaduct and surrounded by the most stunning scenery. It was a pity we didn't have time to explore, especially the caves where the Roquefort is matured. Maybe next time.

En route to Calais the following day, the sat nav warned of stationary traffic ahead and advised a detour which we decided to take. Progress from then on was incredibly slow as we stopped/started through endless sets of traffic lights, hopeful of re-joining the motorway at some point. 

Him:  I wasn't expecting to be diverted through towns.

Me:   Which seem to be getting bigger and busier.

Him:  I have no idea where we are.

Me:   Well, this road's called Avenue Victor Hugo. 

Him:  There's the Arc de Triomphe.

So it was.

Dead ahead.

Ever tried driving around Paris on a busy, rainy afternoon?

Thought not.

 

TTFN

 

We're off on our hols shortly.   

To the little house in Spain.

With the Boo. (The Boy is joining us later.)

For a month.

By car.

That's three firsts.

No internet access whilst we're away so it will be very quiet here.

Back in May.

Hasta la vista.

 

Krakow, take two

I am developing a serious crush on this city, steeped as it is in history, academia, culture and unimaginable tragedy.  Without last year's snow and ice, it was much easier to explore the museums, churches, university and galleries in the Old Town and lose ourselves in the labyrinthine streets and atmosphere of Kazimierz, once home to a substantial Jewish population. 

Walking for miles, dodging the horse drawn cabs, trams and Krakow pigeons.  Browsing and buying from the stalls in the Christmas market.  Fuelled by apple cake, hot spiced wine, fruit pies, green chai and vodka served in candlelit cellar cafés.  Hearing the Heynal, the five-note tune played by a trumpeter four times consecutively each hour from the highest tower of St Mary's Church in the main square.   Eating dinner alongside students and residents.  Wondering what it would be like to live there. 

The Boo?   He stayed with pet carers in Darlington. 

And cried every night.

 

Saturday

• A crisp and sunny start to the day here, so it seemd a good idea to tag along on Boo's morning walk in the local park.  Predictably, the good weather didn't last and we ended up getting rained on but I enjoyed the exercise and managed to avoid (at least for a little while) those bliddy practice guidance documents I rather stupidly agreed to write.

• My new apple green (ish) winter boots.  Hardly rock chick but they're very comfortable, look like they'll withstand a fall of snow (unlike last year's more fashionable pair) and I quite like them.

• Having read a couple of rave reviews, I ordered some boxes of gingerbread porridge but would have to say I'm a tad underwhelmed. The flavour's a bit too subtle for me.

• Window three on the Advent calendar opened.  Being very lazy, and very lacking in the crafting skills department, I bought this one from Amazon.  But I did tart it up with a bit of glitter here and there.

•   Getting ready for a little trip.  Without Boo (and, boy, is he in for a surprise).

Back soon.

 

Suffolk, September

It started with a dog welcoming cottage, perfectly situated on the edge of the estate of a long lost country house, with farmland and forest all around, onion scented breezes and a view of a distant castle.   Shingle beaches, so different from those at home, were a short drive away and made for satisfyingly crunchy walks with the Boo.  Chocolate box pretty pink thatched cottages lined the narrow lanes we explored.  Hedgerows provided the richest of pickings and my first (yes, really) encounter with sloes.  Grapes were admired, wines were tasted and our stocks replenished during a vineyard visit.   A nearby farm provided honey and jam and the best apple juice ever tasted.  Most days included a walk to the village to buy fresh baked seeded bread, Suffolk Gold cheese and crisp locally grown apples.  Daily treats of giant cappuccinos, sitting in the sun at the outdoor tables of the little cafe, served with generous slices of Victoria sandwich and battenburg, and an eagerly welcomed handful of dog biscuits.  Relishing the food, wine and live music at a vegetarian eatery.  A final evening walk, through row upon row of sunflowers just about ripe for harvesting. A blissful week. Well, apart from the afternoon Boo decided to chase an in flight gamebird.  Barking at full volume.  Running at full pelt.  Until he was a rust coloured blob in the distance. (He did come back.  Eventually).

 

 

Holiday snaps

Well, that was a surprise.  Although living less than an hour and a half from its borders, neither of us are at all familiar with Northumberland.  My day trip to Holy Island as a youngster and the Mister's week's camping at Kielder when he was 14 just about sums up previous visits.  As someone who once (mistakenly) thought civilisation ended at Leeds, I've always tended to turn left onto the A1 and headed south.  Now we know what we've been missing.

The country's most northerly county, and reportedly the least populated, Northumberland offered so much (despite some dismal weather).  Wide, empty beaches, breathtaking countryside, castles, priories, stately homes, gardens, a very long Roman wall, an island accessible by a causeway at low tide,  rollercoaster country roads resulting in Incredible Levitating Dog in the back of the car, lakes, forests, market towns, seaside villages, the knitted Royal Wedding (displayed in the window of a house), Waitrose (there are no branches near us) and sheep. So many sheep.  My little camera really couldn't do justice to any of it.

 

Our base for the week was a cottage (a converted byre) on a small farm near Hexham.  When I say cottage, think underfloor heating, woodburning stove, antique furniture and accessories, fully equipped kitchen and situated next to the farmhouse which originally was a Tudor long house.  Boo took a while to settle in, though this farm resident caught his eye as a potential playmate .

Alas, he wasn't her type.

May treats

Soft boiled egg and home baked bread soldiers to dip in.  I don't often have this  but sometimes it just hits the spot when a change from breakfast muesli is required.

A vegetarian recipe book.  Menus here have become a tad predictable and need a shake up.

A new lippy.  My desert island essential, can't-do-without makeup item.  I buy lots though I'm not particularly brand loyal.  This one is a sort of beigey pink colour, lighter than the photograph suggests.

 

Something to watch. We somehow missed this when it was on the telly recently.

Something to wear. A new favourite. 

A week's holiday in Northumberland.  With the Mister.  And the Boo.

Back soon.

Catch up

Our little jaunt was a five day trip to Poland's second city, which was cut to four days after long delays (due to freezing fog) at the airport.  Krakow is a beautiful city with lots of places to explore and with so many stories to tell.  However, the weather whilst we were there (rain, fog and finally snow) wasn't great for photographs (and it probably didn't help that I'm still getting acquainted with the new camera) and only a few of those I did take are worthy of sharing.

Christmas market in the medieval square in the old town.

 

Wawel cathedral, the venue for the coronations of Polish monarchs and where, as a priest, Pope John Paul 11 delivered his first mass in 1946.

Part of the castle on Wawel hill.

A recently opened (just this year) museum is the one at the site of Oskar Schindler's factory.

Housed in the enamel factory's admin block, the museum's well put together exhibits, including one of Schindler's office, tell the story of Krakow, and everyday life for its inhabitants, from the early 1900's to the final weeks of the Nazi occupation and the arrival of the Red Army.

 

For all sorts of reasons, I wasn't convinced that our trip should include that most horrifying and tragic part of Krakow's history - the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp.  Since 1947 the entire site has been designated a memorial to the estimated 1.2 million victims, a museum and historical document,  and, after much deliberation, we did visit. 

There are no photographs.  There are no words.

 

One to visit

Having our own place in Spain provides a handy jumping-off point to explore the country  and this time we travelled north to spend a few days in Valencia, Spain's third city.  We stayed in a village which was just a half hour or so train journey from the centre.  Valencia itself is a city of contrasts, a wonderful mix of ancient and modern.   Our visit started at the railway station (Estación del Norte), a well maintained example of modernisme, the Spanish version of Art Nouveau.

  

 The cathedral was well worth spending some time in, not least because it is home to a chalice which, so it's claimed, is the Holy Grail.

 

 

 

The spectacular City of Arts and Sciences includes an opera house and performing arts centre, a science museum, IMAX cinema, planetarium and oceanographic park.

 

 

 

After a fair bit of sightseeing it was good to get back to our little casa for some welcome R&R.

I read all of the books I'd packed (Stone's Fall, In the Woods, The Birth of Venus and The Snowman) and caught up on Season Three of the fabulous Mad Men series, accompanied (of course) by some very quaffable red stuff.