Stopovers

​There is much to be said in favour of 8-hour stopovers. For a start, it gives one a heightened sense of appreciation for stopovers that span a reasonable time frame - say one hour and a half. Even more, one remembers with great fondness the direct flight from Perth to London not six weeks ago. Bliss!  So, in future, when we receive notification that our time in Dubai/Doha/Singapore has been extended to five hours, we’ll be able to whoop with delight, saying, ‘At least we won’t have to fill in eight hours like we did that dreadful time in Dubai!’

And, let’s face it, in twenty minutes we will only have another seven hours to go before we hop on the plane for our 13-hour flight to Melbourne. What a DODDLE!

And I haven’t even gone for a walk around the shops in the terminal yet. That should fill in a good 45 minutes or so, leaving only around 6 1/2 hours to fill in. 

… so all in all it’s a wonderful experience, this trip home to our loved ones. Don’t worry, it’ll be HUGE HUGS ALL ROUND when we finally at that intersection of time and space that we call HOME. 

See youse soon!

Toodles!

The End

​… and now, the end is near, and so we face the final flight-home. Our friends, we’ve made it clear, and state our case, of which we’re certain:  We’ve gone, along the way, we’ve climbed up hills, we’ve ate our dinns and had such fu-un. But now , as tears subside (from saying ‘bye to Ally), we done it OOOUUUR way!

Toodles!

Last Day in London

​Last day today, so DJ and I headed to the area where Ally used to live. Still in Hackney, but the other end - Stoke Newington.  An amazing place. Lots of Jewish people live here. 

Ally suggested we have a peep at the ancient cemetery and, by Jove, we did. All very crowded with bodies, it is. Dead-unds. Graves piled upon graves and people stuffed in between other graves. [The only other crowded cemetery I remember is the Jewish cemetery in Prague.]

A billboard out on the road summarised the history of the area. Look it up, because there’s no room for it here. 

Next we headed (at Ally’s suggestion) to the two ponds where she recreated. She used to swim in one of them:

Water temperature at 14 degrees, so we weren’t tempted. You are only allowed to swim if you tie a buoy to yourself and tow it behind you. Eek!

Near the ‘pond’ was this amazing castle, which we didn’t have time to explore. Next time …

Toodles!

London Marathon

​Gen Blanch was running in the London Marathon this year as she had scored an entry by ballot. This was very exciting for us and we headed into Limehouse to catch her run past at two points. Her previous marathon time was 3 hrs 40 minutes and she was hoping for 3 hrs 15. 

Massive crowds all along the route whistling, banging drums, chanting, and rattling those cow bells. We found the first stop and waited, cameras ready. I totally failed to see Gen run past st that spot, but Ally and DJ saw her with her blue cap and determined gaze. Looking good. 

Off we rushed to the second vantage point, where the view was much better. Here she is:

There was beautiful weather to be had and other marvelous things and people to see:

And celebrations at the finish:

Gen’s time was 3 hrs 10 minutes, which means she smashed her sim time of 3 hrs 15,  but also means she automatically qualifies for entry into the race in 2023. What an effort!  Well done Genevieve!

Toodles!

Seven Sisters Walk

​Ally led this walk. She had done it a couple of years ago. There’s a rail strike today, so we grabbed one of those Zip cars that is parked nearby to Al’s house. £120 for 24 hours - fuel and insurance included. A good deal. 

Off to Brighton and then a little to the left to Seaford for the start. The plan was to walk to Eastbourne and get the bus back at the end of the walk. 

The white chalk cliffs fell away to the right along the walkway. There were some stiff climbs and huge descents, but we were a trio of extremely tough, fit Australians determined not to let the nation down. We didn’t. 

There were mushrooms:

Half-way points:

Lunch stops (one):

Chums sharing a ramble:

And river crossings (again, one):

And finally a destination town:

Right at this point of time we are in the middle of a traffic snarl due to a) the train strike and b) the London Marathon, which has meant the closure of roads in central city. Never mind, it has been a great day. 

Toodles!

Some notable events

​​There have been some notable experiences here in London. Here they are:

1.  Dinner with Ally and two of our chums, Gen Blanch and Penny McCann. We hoiked off to a Georgian restaurant near Ally’s joint and had a lovely meal. Gen is working in London and has scored a spot in the London Marathon next Sunday. Penny is doing some work in London, but is based in Sydney. It was a great, fun night. 

On the way home to Ally’s joint we saw this fox:

Amazing, eh?

2.  We had never done it before, but our tour of Westminster Abbey was wonderful.  Grandure, graves, nooks, crannies, crosses, more graves and crannies and above all, history. 

3.  St Martin in the Fields

We were happily plodding past this church when I decided to pop my head in the door. Lo and behold there was a lunchtime concert just starting!  How wonderful!  An expert set of singers punched out some beautiful pieces, introduced by the Vicar dressed in his black, Vicar’s garb with a tweed jacket over the top. Never mind …. The set finished with ‘When the Saints go Marching In’, which sounds naff, but was a lovely arrangement. 

4.  Today we went to the Churchill War Rooms, which was capital ‘I’ Interesting. The displays brought the whole endeavor of war and how to respond to it to life. It wasn’t really that long ago.

 

If youse are ever in London, youse all must GO to the War Rooms!

Toodles!

London

London has been great. There was a time when my attitude was that the best thing to do in London was to get out of it. That extreme approach has been tempered somewhat in the intervening years, though only ‘somewhat’. 

Ally has been pedaling off to work in the mornings, leaving us DJ and I to have a bit of a lie-in before heading off into Town on the big red double-decker bus - upstairs at the front, making sure we didn’t look like tourists. I have recorded most of these walks on Strava. 

There is no point detailing these walks in words, so here are some photos:





I wanted to tell this chap a joke to make him laugh. Here is the joke:  ‘Did you hear about the two peanuts walking down the Horseferry Road late at night?  One of them was a salted (‘assaulted’, get it?). However, I thought he might fall off his horse and lose his job. This would not have been a desirable outcome, so I didn’t. 

Toodles!

To London

​Travel day from Beaune was the same as any other travel day. Lots of travel. Up bright and early (Don’t you just hate that?) and off to the Gare de Beaune. The local commuter train was full to bursting so we waited another 10 minutes for the SNCF one. Another 20 minutes at Dijon saw us onto the express to Paris. My time was spent speed-reading Ken Follett’s Never because the book was being left for Ally.  Very interesting, given the current situation in the Ukraine. 

Arrived Gare de Lyon and decided to walk to Gare du Nord. Always great walking in Paris and today didn’t disappoint.  

A part of Gare du Nord had been converted to a market and here we had a very simple and much anticipated lunch from a brown cardboard box. Chicken and rice. 

Here is an eating companion …

Bags dumped at the consignment bin, we set off to the D’Orsay. The line was too long, so walked along the river towards le Tour Eiffel. Into the Quai Branley Museum shop, then straight back to the station. This is where things got MIGHTY INTERESTING. 

A large section of the station had been cordoned off because of a left package. This meant a problem for collecting our left baggage, but WORSE WAS TO COME. 

The ticketing system had broken down for the Eurostar, so there was much milling, standing and waiting to board. Long story short, the train was an hour late. 

Ally was, as ever, pleased to see us (especially me) and had a lovely dinner cooked. Not long till we collapsed into bed. 

Avery hectic day. 

Toodles!

Tate Modern

​We went to the Tate Modern yesterday. It was way too old fashioned for me!

Last Day In Beaune

​Judy and Graeme sat in their tiny apartment wondering what the de il they were going to DO on their last full day in Beaune. There were SO MANY options from which to choose. They sat together and pondered. Suddenly Judy jumped up excitedly. ‘I know’, she said, her index finger pointing upwards in a gesture of sudden foresight, ‘let’s ride our bikes all the way to Dijon’.  ‘What a splendid idea’, said Graeme, his eyes scrunched in fervid agreement and anticipation. 

And do it came to pass that Judy and Graeme mounted their bikes and headed out along the road to the north. Judy had made lovely rolls for lunch and the plan was to get to Nuits Saint George for a fresh coffee each. 

Now the bike route out of the town is not so easy to find. J and G knew of a voire verte, but how the devil to find it!  In the end they hoped onto a D road and cycled along till they, inevitably, came upon a sign. ‘Whew’, they chorused to each other. ‘At least we have made it THIS far’. 

The voire verte has had some massive work done on it over the intervening years since Judy and Graeme had been on the Côte d’Or and it made the ride very enjoyable indeed. Hot mix had been applied liberally to the tiny pathways built originally for the winery chaps to go about their wine growing pursuits. The route was well signed and the weather was ideal for cycling. 

[This voire verte was not the only place that macadam had been applied. All throughout the Burgundy region heaps of it had been poured onto roads, pathways and ramparts, making huge improvements everywhere. Seems that there must have been a sale on at the hot mix shop. What a massive job!]

Along the way J&G saw lots of wonderful and beautiful sights. Row upon row of gorgeous vines, château after château glistening in the sunlight, the côté on the left and the plains sweeping out towards Germany on the right. 

Arriving in Dijon could have proved tricky, but, along with the bike signs, some very helpful person (or persons) had squirted pink arrow signs on the road that took our intrepids right to the canal that they knew so well. Their mission was more than accomplished. 

All of a sudden, Judy turned to Graeme and asked, ‘Would it be at all POSSIBLE for me to go into the town of Dijon and do a tiny bit of shopping’?  It became at once clear to Graeme that this, in Judy’s mind had been the plan all along. A shopping opportunity in the guise of a bike ride. But how could Graeme be anything other than pleased with the day’s events. ‘Sure thing’, he said. I’ll sit in the park while you go and buy the one or two little items you need, Dear Jude. Take your time.  I’ll do my French and clock up my 905 consecutive days on Duolingo.’

Back to Beaune by train, drop off the bikes to Olivier at the rental place and home to freshen up for dinner at the new restaurant just down the road. Judy and Graeme packed their bags for an early departure next morning and collapsed into bed. Tired, but happy!

What a day!

Toodles!

Venturing out

​Today we decided to try a route posted on the billboards down next to the Parc de la Bouzaize. It started there and headed out towards Savigny les Beaune along not quite a voire verte, but a much-less-used road than a freeway. It was, indeed, a very lovely ride. [It seems that, unlike many other unsuccessful rides/walks in France, this time it seems that the people who made the maps were also the SAME PEOPLE who put out the signs!]. 

Out to Savigny les Beaune for a picnic lunch in the square. DJ had found an artisan bakery that made/sold only bread.  Rammed into the bread DJ had squished some cheese and some rabbity meatloaf. TDF!

A bit further on a small market was in full swing. All the villagers were crammed into  small, blocked off street munching into slices of pizza and guzzling down snails and red wine. 

And a beautiful pumpkin stall:

Kept following the bike trail signs to Aloxe Corton and on to Ladoix Serrigny. Here we got a little lost-boots, but we soldiered on. 


Thirty km in all and a lovely ride with no hills. Lots of degustations along the way and very do-able for not-so-strong cyclists. Rain threatened, so we high-tailed it back home via not-so-busy roads. Youse would of loved it!

Toodles!

Bike storage

​I know heaps of you are interested in how the ‘bike storage issue’ is playing out in our apartment  building. 

Just recap, for those of you who know about it, our ‘esteemed’ neighbors up the back of our building in Beaune are, to put it in simple, understandable, succinct and incontrovertibly cogent terms, arseholes. I only want to refer to them using their initials (to be fair), their names are Gerard and Simone Berges. They are rich and incredibly obnoxious. I am certain that they don’t want us as co-tenants, especially as we open our apartment for short stay holidays. 

The battleground they have chosen is our bike storage within the apartment block when we are in residence. They have determined that the following locations are unacceptable: leaning against the wall, at the top of the stairs to the cellar, under the spiral staircase leading to our apartment (completely out of sight) and under the stairs next to the bins. 

We have been totally DREADING the inevitable confrontation when we once again put our bikes in the courtyard for our occasional use. Dreading it. Sleeplessly. Dreading. 

Happily, however, there has been a solution. A political one. A few months ago another apartment owner, Anais, contacted us re a forthcoming body corporate (‘Syndic’) meeting. Seems that the Berges were proposing an expensive refurbishment of the street entrance. Anais didn’t agree, mostly because of the cost, which she could not afford. We gave Anais our proxy vote and the Berges’ proposal failed. 

During our discussion with Anais we mentioned the bike parking problem. She was all over it, sharing our view of the ‘Bs’ as outlined above. She owns the ramp leading to the cellar and readily agreed to let us use that space for the bikes. 

I checked out this arrangement with the Syndic when I visited their office on another matter. It seems that the Bs have no recourse whatsoever. We have not seen or heard from them our whole visit. That, along with no bells blasting in our ears at 6:00 am every morning ranks as the two highlights of our stay here in Beaune. 

Toodles!

Cyle to Santenay

​This is the must-do ride every single time you come to Beaune. First-off you dress yourself up on your finest riding clobber, then you get your bikes out and off you toddle. 

Head down to the Parc de la Bouzaize and there find the instructions on how to proceed. Out along a suburban street and thence onto the voie verte through the vineyards.  You know the drill.  First town Pommard. Second town Volnay. Gorgeous. Never tire of them. 

Next town Meursault. This is where really grouse white wine comes from, your Meursault. It’s here that you take a coffee break. Along with all the other punters on bikes - electric assist,  most of them. 

There are a couple of deviations from the route these days, the most annoying was a bypass to the village of Puligny Montrachet. We didn’t really want lunch there, but it would have been good to press one's nose against the restaurant window pane …. In any event we were only right on time for our booking at Le Terroir in Santenay, so it worked out well. 

Here’s DJ’s fishy dish. 

Back on the bikes, along the canal and train back to Beaune completed the day. 

Toodles

Cycle Chagny to Nolay

​It was to have been a bike ride down to Santenay for lunch at Le Terroir, but they are closed on Thursdays to give theirselfs some lonely time during the week. We’ll do that ride tomorrow. 

Instead, we took our bikes on the train to Chagny an thence along a ‘vélo verte’ to Nolay, a ride we hadn’t done before. I had difficulty orienting myself from Chagny station to the canal to start the ride, but happily DJ was all over it and we soon got going. Along the canal to Santenay, but turn left before going into the town. 

The route is a rail trail that rises slowly along a gently-rising valley with little villages nestling quietly down to our left as we rode along. [Don’t you just love the way some French villages nestle quietly in valleys?]. 

This photo was of a station for the village of Paris l’Hopital. A bit further on was a ‘sous terrain’ - a passage that ducked under the railway line for passengers to walk to the village. 

When we got to Nolay it was too late for lunch, but the proprietor was able to find one serve of tart tintin for us to share. Not as much as we could have eaten, but adequate. 

We continued along the route till we got to a couple of viaducts. The thing about your viaduct is that you can’t see and appreciate their splendor because you are riding across the top of them. I did manage to snag a photo from one end, however. 

We turned around at this point and hurtled back downhill to Nolay, Santenay and back to Chagny. Here are some snaps:

Back onto the train after a small glass of vin blanc in the Chagny square and home for a little goat cheese on baguette. Thank you, Dear Jude!

Toodles!