Eastbourne

This weekend had nothing planned so I got hold of Rebecca and organised to spend the day with her and Nylan. They wanted to to go and play Pooh sticks at the bridge that the 'Winnie the Pooh' stories made famous. I had never played Pooh sticks as I wasn't into 'Winnie the Pooh', It was Denise who came up with the plan as she wanted to show me how to do it since I hadn't played it before.
The kids had decided this was what they wanted to do as it wasn't easy for them to get there without a car, I will have to do it again as Denise still wants to visit the bridge.

We took our own supply of sticks as any information that I read about said that the area is very popular and  you will struggle to find many sticks in the area of the bridge to play Pooh sticks.
After numerous games of Pooh sticks we headed off to Eastbourne for a picnic lunch, enjoyed a walk along the Eastbourne promenade and then headed back to London for tea and then back to Bristol.

Lake District again

Another visit to the Lake District, but this time without Denise as she is still in NZ. I went up on the Friday night and it took 4.5 hours as I hit the peak traffic at both Birmingham and Manchester and this certainly slows things down a bit.
On the Saturday I went up to Lake Windemere and stopped and found lunch, there was a nice sandwich shop which freshly made the sandwich while you waited. After a wander around the Lake edge I then headed for Lake Grasmere as I had read that there was a famous Ginger Bread shop in the village.

Sarah Kemp was born in Bowness-on-Windermere in 1815. She had a hard life, as a child she knew poverty, and her widowed mother was only too thankful to get her daughter into service with the local gentry. But Sarah was a diligent young woman and she soon reached the height of her profession as a cook.
In 1844 she married Wilfred Nelson. Wilfred worked as a farm labourer and part-time grave digger, but he was unable to earn enough to support his wife and two children. Sarah worked hard taking in washing and making cakes and pastries for Lady Farquhar, in her home at Dale Lodge in Grasmere.Around 1850 a small cottage known as ‘Gate Cottage’ then became available for rent. Gate Cottage had been built in 1630 by public subscription as the village school. Education was not compulsory at this time, and it was only the village folk who could afford the penny a day to send their boys to school. Once education became compulsory a new school was built nearby to accommodate all the village children, leaving the Nelson’s to take over the tenancy of the property. At her new home, Sarah was encouraged by Lady Farquhar’s French chef to make Gingerbread. As the Victorian tourists passed by, they would see Sarah donned in her white apron and shawl sitting out in her cobbled yard selling her wares of Helvellyn cakes, aerated water and most importantly her Gingerbread. Sarah’s Grasmere Gingerbread became renowned, and soon she was wrapping it in pure vegetable parchment printed ‘None Genuine Without Trade Mark’. The recipe was locked away in the local bank vault. Sarah abandoned her parlour, and hung a curtain across her kitchen to form a passageway from the door through to the diminutive shop. Sarah had now established herself as ‘Baker and Confectioner of Church Cottage, Grasmere’.

I visited the shop and purchased a 12 pack of Gingerbread, it was delicious and once home I realised that  I should have purchased more.
Then it was a tour over to the coast and down to Barrow-in-Furness where I stopped for dinner at a nice pub. This was an eventful trip as the car broke on the way. I had to put a new clutch in the car about a month previous and 2 shift rod bushes fell apart and I had held them in place with cable ties and one broke and the linkage fell off and left me with only 3rd & 4th gear. It took me 30 minutes to fix and I was lucky I had some spare cable ties to fix it.

On the Sunday I headed home early as I was concerned about the gear linkage coming off again.

Bournemouth

While Denise is away in New Zealand, I am left to gallivant around the country on my own. We had booked this trip earlier and it was unfortunate that Denise wasn't here to enjoy it as well, but since the hotel was booked and we can't cancel the bookings I went anyway.
I arrived on the Friday night and enjoyed a walk around the area where the hotel is and just about every other hotel in Bournemouth. The next morning I went promenading on the Bournemouth beach front, went up to Poole and down to Boscombe Pier, I was walking for 4 hours, then had lunch.
Spent the rest of the day wondering round the gardens of the town before settling for a nice meal.
The beach huts at Bournemouth have an illustrious history, the first purpose built beach huts appeared on either side of Bournemouth Pier in 1906.

The next day as I headed home I visited the Bovington Tank Museum. This museum is dedicated to the history of the tank which was invented in Britain during the first twentieth century world conflict of WW1, it was conceived to be able to advance to the enemy lines and cross them while protecting the soldiers from being mowed down by machine gun fire.The original project name was 'landship' and was being controlled by the Navy under Winston Churchill who was First Lord of the Admiralty. It was his idea to change the name of the project for security reasons so the enemy wouldn't get an inkling of what it was about to 'Tank' and this name stuck.

Oklahoma and Berlin

During the week we went to see Oklahoma - Haz was keen to see the first Rodgers and Hammerstein musical - but it was really quite disappointing - the casting, choreography and singing didn't quite do the musicians justice. Then in the weekend we flew out to Berlin. We haven't done much travel to Europe for a number of reasons and this was our first trip in more than 2 months. Last time we went to Berlin we exhausted ourselves by staying at a hotel out of town, walking 2.5 kms to the railway station, biking all day on one of those Fat Tire bike trips - every day - we have never been so tired. This weekend would be different - we hired a car and stayed at the same hotel - but didn't intend to go into the city. Saturday was spent at the Spreewald Forest, south of Berlin. It is group of small settlements amongst trees all connected by an old canal system (200 or so).  We did the real touristy thing and went for a 4 hour punt ride along some of the canals and got the impression that the locals enjoyed life and had a sense of fun. There is about 50,000 people living in the area, but the area is big and quite honestly we saw only a few. This is also home to the Sorbs who have managed to keep their traditional culture, language, customs and clothing despite the inundation of tourists.The museum which at first glance looked like an outdoor farm with old equipment soon proved to be so much more interesting telling us the story of the Sorbs and life in Lehde. For many years the area has been known for its horseradish and gherkins and if our bags had been bigger a few of the jars would have flown back to Bristol with us. 



And on Sunday there was another treat in store - we went to Europe’s largest tropical holiday world. It felt a bit bizarre walking into an old airship hanger (built originally for the German company CargoLifter AG in 2000 - giant airships which would be able to transport large items of freight to inaccessible destinations around the world). However, the company responsible for the project didn't manage to get it off the ground (in fact the company went into the ground before the first prototype could be built). So, instead of aircraft we came across palm trees growing in tropical conditions, people wandering, swimming or soaking with or without clothes on and children playing in sandy beaches while parents lounge, sip cocktails, sleep or eat.

London

We had our second dance lesson - real keen to keep these ones going till we get to be as good as Fred and Ginger (yeah right!!).  Jane and David are putting down a dance floor in their new house and have invited us for regular practices.  With some good models to follow things might get better.  Marianne came for dinner, and we took her for a tour around Bristol and had a entree picnic in the park near the suspension bridge - nearly in the dark but a lovely balmy night. Harry and Paul fixed our little car and Paul then came round for dinner another night.  So, the weeks are getting busy.  On Saturday we went to London to see Rebecca and Nylan and after lunch at the Chinese markets we caught a tube to Notting Hill to experience Portobello Market. It is one of the most famous street markets in the world - and thankfully we caught it on a 'not very busy day'. We wandered the stalls, firstly the expensive antique ones and then the not so expensive ones and ended up at the Travel Shop where Hugh Grant met Julia Roberts in the famous film (last time we saw it was at Mike and Becks in Sydney when we took Mum for a holiday).  The carnival is held in August - and I can imagine the chaos - I would love to go - but since I don't like crowds probably won't - apparently there are 20 miles of stalls, 40 sound systems, hundreds of food stalls, and over 40,000 volunteers looking after 1 million carnival goers.

In the evening we went to 39 steps, based on the 1935 thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock and based loosely (very I would say) on the novel by John Buchan.  If you enjoyed Spamalot (like we did) we could recommend this one - we laughed alot (that rhymes with Spamalot by the way) - a spy novel taking the mikky out of the Scottish accent - just as the locals do to us. Its the same old story, man finds himself embroiled with lovely spy who is killed. Man escapes from police and boards an overnight train to Scotland dressed as a milkman. He sees the police searching the train and learns from a newspaper that he is the target of a nationwide search. He hides from the police by kissing the indignant passenger (female of course), jumps from the train onto the Forth Rail Bridge (been there) and escapes. He stays the night with a poor crofter, is chased by the police and arrives at a professors house (who is really a baddy). Narrowly escaping death (the bullet is stopped by the farmer's hymnbook, left in a coat pocket) he goes to the local police who don't believe him. He escapes again somehow becomes main speaker at a political rally and caught again... and the story goes on... and on... and on...We didn't do much on Sunday, sleep in, shopping and cooking for Jane and David (vegetable korma was rather good even if I say so myself!!).

Lancaster ride

Our first dance lesson saw us shuffling around an old church attempting to find the right steps for the cha cha cha and the waltz with about 50 other determined couples.  We enjoyed it.  Chris came for tea another night and talked us into seeing Spamalot.  Always game to give things a go we said 'why not' and sat on the internet booking tickets.  I haven't really been a fan of Monty Python but going with a 'prepared to be amused' attitude we really enjoyed it.  It is a parody of King Arthur (and having been to Tintagel where the legend originated) we were amused to see the castle had a tv aerial, the countryside a wind turbine and a  high speed passenger train was crossing a viaduct.
On the Friday night we went to Lincolnshire - it was Harry's treat a taxi ride in a Lancaster "You get to experience the vibrations, smells, sound and atmosphere of a real Lancaster Bomber operating on a real Bomber Command airfield in front of an original Control Tower providing you with the ultimate WW2 aviation experience. Your only dilema is choosing which option to take!"
The ride took place at the Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Centre set up by two brothers Fred and Harold Panton in memory of their brother who was killed on a bombing raid over Nuremberg on 30/31 March 1944.  "Just Jane" was built in April 1945 and was one of the first 150 B Mk VII Avro Lancasters built as part of the RAF's Tiger Force in the Far East. However, Japan's early surrender meant that Just Jane was surplus to requirements and she ended up in storage until the 1950's when she was bought by the French Government, painted midnight blue, and became part of the French Naval Air Arm. Ten years later she was white and on her way to New Caledonia to complete sea rescues and cartography exercises. After a few years of that she found her home in Sydney where she was overhauled, turned grey and flown back to Britain to become a museum item in various English regions. This is one of 3 operated by the French in the Pacific and the other 2 are in museums, one in Perth and the other at MOTAT in Auckland.
 The Panton brothers bought her and set up the museum.  Here is a couple of quotes best explained by someone in the know...
"The first moves towards restoring one of her four engines were made in 1993. Two ex RAF engineers were brought in to do the job. They began work on No3 engine. Although it had been idle for 22 years, they were confident they could bring it back to life. Accessing the spare parts was organised, the engine rotated to ensure it would still turn and the cam shaft covers removed. Both had to be replaced, although the engine cylinders were in good working order. Then the propeller was removed, stripped down and examined and - apart from having to adjust the blade settings - everything proved to be in fine order and was rebuilt. Local contractors were brought in to check the wiring and make good where necessary. That alone was a ten-day job. The engine's starter motor, magnetos, fuel booster pump and ignition harness were removed and checked, the fuel tank was pressurised and the fuel jettison system reset. When the throttle controls between the cockpit lever and the engine were uncovered, it was discovered that almost a third of the small control rods had to be replaced. However after about seven hundred man hours and at a cost of £7000 the engine was finally ready. This work was then completed for all four engines and they now at a fully operational taxiing standard".
So, I stood and watched while Harry went inside the plane and experienced a taxi ride in a Lancaster. 
Harry adds the following:
This was one of those wow moments for me, to be in a real Lancaster and actually ride in it. It would be nice to go for a flight but it currently is not airworthy, although they now want to make it flyable again. There are only 2 Lancasters flying today, one in Canada and the Battle of Britain Memorial Flights one.
You get to choose where you want to sit and I chose to be in the Bomb aimer and Nose Turret position.

They had trouble starting the number 3 engine and we eventually taxied without it running. The smell and noise was intoxicating and after the taxi and its shut down you get to visit very position in the aircraft. I must have spent over an hour in the aircraft.
.

Lincoln is quite a delightful city - shrouded in the mystery's of Robin Hood and we enjoyed doing some of the tour around the countryside to see castles where King John was killed, where the merry men lived and where Maid Marian and Robin were married.  We also wandered past Lincoln Cathedral and down the streets (including Steep Street where at the bottom the Jewish community used to live).  The town is well known for its woollen cloth, green and scarlett the colours of Robin and his merry men and also as the home of Tennyson...
"Flower in the crannied wall,
I'll pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
A little flower - but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is."

Creswell Crags is a limestone gorge honeycombed with caves and smaller gorges. Stone tools and remains of animals found in the caves by archaeologists have proved that it was inhabited back in the last Ice Age between 50,000 and 10,000 years ago. The caves contained flint tools, engraved bones, bones from prehistoric animals, engravings - evidence to suggest seasonal occupation by nomadic groups probably travelling up from France and later on a place for Robin Hood and his team to hide.
There is a photo below which requires an explanation.  In the 1960's a student put a whole lot of dead rats in cages in the caves - to study 'decay' of all things.  All the rats decayed as expected except these two in a little cave near the main entrance.  These 2 decided to mummify themselves (something to do with air currents) and have been left there ever since to see what happens over time.
My fascination for the area was heightened because my Grandmothers name was Creswell - but I could find no info about why the crags were named so - more research required.