Three weeks full of summer, sunshine and sav

The day of my flight homed to NZ dawned and the skies were ominously snow grey. Heavy snow had been predicted to fall. It snowed on and off all morning and into the late afternoon. I kept a stalker-ish eye on the Heathrow website watching flights land and leave all day, albeit horrendously delayed. Eventually it was time to head to the airport and see if I was going to be lucky. We started boarding the plane. Then we stopped. It seemed there was a problem with the wings. Sometimes there’s too much information shared by the airline. As evidenced by the young boy next to me saying to his father ‘dad I don’t want to have to do an emergency landing, I don’t want to die. Can we go on a different plane?’

Sometime after midnight it turned out our wings were unfixable so we were going nowhere that night, so around 4am we were bundled off to a hotel in London for the night. After a couple hours sleep we were treated to a cooked breakfast at the hotel and then bused back to the airport. We managed to get out mid afternoon the next day after a part was flown in from Singapore overnight and arrived in Singapore around lunchtime where I discovered I was lucky enough to be on the next flight out to Christchurch that evening and in the meantime Singapore Airlines were putting me up in the lush hotel in the Changi Airport for an afternoon of pampering - shower, sleep, buffet lunch and dinner. Ryan would have hated the delay in leaving London and he would have hated the flight again. But he would have loved the hotels, particularly the all-you-can-eat cooked breakfast in the London hotel and the buffet lunch and dinner in Singapore! After more movies, more trashy American soaps, some reading, more movies, a cat nap and more movies I was finally touching down in NZ on Saturday morning, only a day late. After a brief search of my bag by customs where I lost my tulip bulbs from Amsterdam due to having no certification for them (I've seen border patrol, I declared everything!!) I was out the other side being hugged by the in-laws.

From there in I talked nineteen to the dozen (overtired and excited), stopping only to watch out the window and wonder what back road Doug knew from Christchurch to Timaru as this road we were on was one hell of a narrow country lane, single lane and in shit nick. Then it dawned on me that this was State Highway 1. It looked more like an English country lane than a national highway...

Once in Timaru, I unloaded the many breakables I’d stuffed into my hand luggage (3 German steins in my handbag!) and handed out some presents to the surprised in-laws. Will and Bronnie picked me up and wisked me out to the farm for the first of many wonderful catch-ups with friends, a bbq at Nige and Nel's. And so less than 12 hours after stepping off the plane, I had a plate of bbq food in front of me, a glass of wine in hand (may as well start as you mean to go on!) and surrounded by much missed friends. After over 80 hours surviving on cat naps in hotels and on planes, I got an entire nights sleep in the spare bed and it was just what I needed. After indulging only in moderation (surely a sign we are growing up, eh Nelly!?) we were fighting fit for a game of tennis the following morning after a cooked breakkie by the boys. When the weather turned on us we headed into Timaru for some takeaways and a lazy Sunday afternoon movie of the quality that only Willy could pick. And that rounded up possibly the best way to spend my first 24 hours back home, friends, bbq, pav and tennis! Good times.

The next day bought me a hot chocolate date with Nel (marshmellows included for no extra charge - take note UK coffee chains!), shoe shopping for some heels for the wedding with Jude (what a joy to shop with NZ customer service - a greeting, an offer of help and small talk at the till - its the little things) and lunching with Alana and Oscar. And I was lucky enough to dine on fresh blue cod, caught mere days ago at 3 Goulds Road for dinner. Then the next day my mummy arrived and I we had a big bear hug! We threw my oversized suitcase in and we were off, Southland bound, stopping only for some lunchtime pancakes in Capers, or at least it used to be called Capers. Finally we were home, turning into the long drive, bumping our way through potholes and pulling up in front of the house. Ahhhh.

I can't remember what I did the next day, or the day after that even, but then on the Friday, I distinctly remember hearing bellbirds singing in the bush and had blue cod for dinner. I also whipped into Invercargill and saw my fabulous golden gran, more bear hugs all round. It was lovely. Then it was back out to the wedding rehearsal. Wedding Eve was spent with Danny and his best man and groomsman at his place (someone had to be there the next morning to make sure they wore black socks!!)

After a week of average weather in Southland the Saturday dawned with those clear blue blue skies that I am sure you can only see in Southland. Being the only girl in the house I nabbed the shower first and primped and preened for some time. Around an hour out from needing to be at the venue the boys, with some prodding, stopped yakking and hit the shower, donned the suits and laced the shoes. We faffed about with their button holes for sometime until deciding that this deceptively difficult buttonhole business needed more experience than I could offer from two school balls. Mum's were needed. So we scooted down the road to the venue to find some of the more organised family and guests already milling about in the gardens. Luckily there were some aunties on hand to sort the buttonholes.

Things were looking rosy, the sunshine was out, it was one of those days that if you described it to an Aucklander they would nod politely and smile, but you know they don't believe you that the sun came out, bright and hot, anywhere south of the Bombay's. It was when things were looking rosy, the groom was waiting calmly, family were catching up, when calamity struck. Nephew one had an untimely soaking in the (thankfully shallow) pond at the gardens. Saviours went dashing, he was plucked from amongst the ducks and from somewhere dry clothes appeared.

Following this moment of calamity the day went much as expected. The bride (looking beautiful) arrived and with bridesmaids proceeding ahead entered the gardens and meet her groom at the alter. The vows were duly made, the rings slipped on the right fingers and the whole deal was sealed with a kiss. Champagne followed before the happy couple left us to an afternoon tea while they went off with the bridal party to record their special day through pictures. The dinner was delicious, the cake was cut and the first dance waltzed around without a hitch. All in all my little brother and new sister-in-law put on a fabulous day and am sure they enjoyed it as much as their guests did.

The following day saw that brilliant post-wedding tradition of a bbq on the back lawn under more fabulous Southland sunshine. After a fabulous weekend we waved goodbye to the family and friends that had travelled down. Monday bought more sunshine, a lunch in Invervegas with Esnes and a long natter with Gran. On Tuesday morning I was off to Auckland, to see the newest nephew. I was greeted with big bear hugs from Kirsty and Arthur and little Ollie. It wasn't long before Kirsty and I had cracked into what was to be the first of a number of wines over the time I was in Auckland. We set to catching up and I dished out some more presents.

Wednesday saw us relax at home in the warm Auckland mugginess and having a bit of a barbie for dinner. Thursday we subject Ollie to some wedding dress shopping before we hit Mission Bay for icecreams at Movenpick. How did I let it take 13 days until I had a hokey pokey icecream?? I'm still not sure what I was thinking letting it take so long! A sudden downpour put paid to Kirsty and I strolling along the beach with Ollie. Friday saw a spot more dress shopping, burger fuel for lunch and some Pol Roger for dinner to celebrate the good news from afar that I been offered more town planning work at my old Council in London.

Come Saturday morning and I was flying back to Southland for mum's 55th birthday party. Maybe I shouldn't have put her age on here... After nursing a hangover on Sunday I popped back into town on Monday for a lunch date at Gran's. The infamous Gainfort pancake recipe was on the menu. So simple with lemon juice and sugar, yet so so good. No one does pancakes like my Gran and her little sister! Also called in to see the middle nephew Seth again which was lovely, what a good little chappie, he loved his little London double decker bus I bought home for the sobrinos (nephews). Monday night I stayed with the newlyweds who had returned from their honeymoon. Tuesday I was off up to Gore to have a catch up with the married Mrs Grant which was fabulous as always.

Wednesday saw mum and I leave the farm, the rolling green fields and blue skies of Southland. We hit Dunedin around lunchtime and proceeded to spend several hours in one of the wedding dress stores there, trying on gown after beautiful gown. I reluctantly tore myself away and we carried onto Timaru where we had a nice dinner with family and friends. Friday morning saw Nel take me wedding dress shopping in Timaru (so Dan and Em's wedding had well and truly infected me with wedding fever!!) and we tried on any style in my size. Following the dress shopping I gave my last hug to Nel and met up with mum to go visit my uncle. The three of us had a lovely lunch out in Geraldine where I saw a metal recreation of the infamous Bayeux tapestry depicting the events leading up and including the Battle of Hastings. Then we whipped down the road to Waimate to see more extended family. Then it was back to Timaru for one last meal with the in-laws before popping around the road to catch up with Errol, Alana and little Oscar who couldn't get enough of my story book reading!

Saturday morning and it was off to the airport in Christchurch with my mum and mum-in-law seeing me safely off from my fabulous three week holiday.

Another Cosy Christmas and a Spot of the Swine Flu

Finally it was Christmas Eve and we were up early to pick up our rental car and load it with presents and food and some presents that were food and head for Cornwall. We headed west out of London, past snow filled fields and after a couple of hours we turned south to the wild coast of Cornwall. We pulled into our destination of Bridgerule, a tiny town near Bude on the Cornish coast and found our cute cottage. We settled in, cranked the heating and lit the log burner. We piled our presents under the tree and snuggled down with a bottle of rum to wait for the jolly old fat man to pop down the chimney.

Christmas day saw us feasting on a (NZ) leg of lamb poked full of fresh rosemary, pumpkin, kumara, roast potatoes, parsnip and carrots, all cooked in the most heart attack inducing but delicious-Christmas-only-comes-but-once-a-year, goose fat. We even managed to whip up our own gravy from all the goodies that we cooked in the tray with our meat. We dined on mini meringues with cream and berries and ambrosia. So stuffed were we that we didn’t even cook our mini Christmas pudding and custard!

Boxing Day saw our plans to head to the Eden Project dashed with Ryan being somewhat under the weather. So we were cottage bound for a couple of days until we returned to London via a stop in Tintagel, the legendary birthplace of King Arthur. And in case you’re wondering, no we didn’t go nude in Bude while we were there (it’s the done thing legend has it).

Back in London I marched Ryan off to the doctor and we find out why he’s been and still is so poorly. Swine Flu. Yup not joking. Trust Ryan. With Ryan tucked up in bed, quarantined in our room, I went into town to see the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition which was pretty damn good, some magical pictures of wildlife and nature captured.

Given the swine flu sufferer our New Years was pretty quiet unfortunately. On New Years Day with Ryan starting to get cabin fever from being cooped up for so long, we decided to take a stroll along the Thames. What a mistake that was! Half way into our walk on a path alongside the Thames we discovered the river was flooding. We were forced to head inland and away from the river to avoid flooded streets alongside the river. Didn’t expect that! A few days later we headed to north London to take in the 180 views of the city from Primrose Hill via a long stroll in Regents Park. Then before we knew it, Monday has rolled around and Ryan was back to work and I was on the countdown for my flight to NZ...

Back from the Continent to Home Sweet London

Well it’s been a while since the three of us (Ryan, I and old Betty of course!) got back from our epic journey around Europe!

We've finally managed to get the best of our photos on Facebook and labelled to make our life easier when we get back to NZ and spend a small fortune on developing our photos! I’ve also managed to get all of our blogs that we kept while we were away up online! Some have been lengthy, but it’ll make great reading when we’re old and grey!

So now here’s a bit of an update to the blog on the last couple of months of 2009…

So we pulled back into Hammersmith, ready to be home, but after so long away it felt a bit strange. We set to hauling all the foreign purchases we’d made, including the Italian and French wines we stocked up on, into the flat! We had a week where neither of us were working, so we set to and put ads for Betty on Gumtree and Preloved and sat back waiting for the punters to roll up. We cleaned her from top to bottom and she’d never looked so good. Ryan tinkered around with her and gave her a new dose of oil, much needed after the impressive 14,000 km’s she admirably did for us!

Less than a week after being home and we already had plans in place for our next jaunt out of London, to another cosy cottage for an Xmas break, this time in Cornwall. Itchy feet so soon! We also had our hamper of NZ junk food turn up, so we stored that away for Xmas like squirrels.

The first weekend back we had some nice kiwi’s come and take our sprucy Betty for a spin around the block. We were fielding quite a few calls and emails about her, so we were hopeful about our chance of selling her at a quiet time of year for campers.

After a week Ryan had picked up some construction work at the ritzy One Hyde Park development. Very ritzy apartment block in Knightsbridge that overlooks the park. Worth 500 million, with the cheapest apartment going for 5 million when it’s finished. Understandably they're a bit pedantic about perfection, quality and all the rest of it.

Meanwhile I was still looking for a job, that old chestnut. Whilst I was still hoping to get back to Hounslow Council there appeared to be a freeze on recruiting, even for positions vacated. So instead I hit the web, searching for retail work in the lead-up to Christmas, or Crimbo as the Brits lovingly refer to it. I went up to Westfield at the start of our second week back, to do did a drop of CV’s and blow me down if I didn’t get a job offer on the spot! From the first store I handed my CV into! Pumpkin Patch needed someone to start the following week until early Jan, which sounded good, the only catch was it was a ‘zero contract’ with no minimum hours guaranteed week by week.

So I told them, yes I’d take the position, and then walked out and carried on handing out the rest of my CV’s in the hope of finding something with set hours. A day later I had my diary full of interviews for the week! I had an interview at Harrods, but they didn’t take me on, solely because I couldn’t work Xmas eve (too honest on the application form you see!). Dashed straight from that interview to another at a card/wrapping paper and gift store. I was on my way home from that one, only to get a call to say, sorry they didn’t want me either, but could they pass my details onto another branch. Sure, go ahead! After an interview at the other branch I was offered a trial for a couple of hours at the weekend to see if I liked it. Before the week was out I managed to squeeze in another interview for a camera retail store.

Mid-week we had those lovely kiwi’s come back. Understandably they’d fallen in love with our Betty and wanted a second look. They walked out the door that night, the proud new owners of one 20-year-old, diesel engine motorhome. Betty continued a fine run of kiwi couple owners, taking the tally to three and staring down the barrel at another summer stint around the continent. They were such lovely people that we even handed over our much loved and used AA campground guide. Bless.

Come the weekend and I did my trial at Scribbler and was offered fulltime work for the month of December. Sold! To the store with the most hours on offer! I also waved Betty off at the weekend. I’m sure Ryan said his goodbyes before he went off to work that day. A bit of a pat on the bonnet for a service well rendered perhaps.

The following week I found myself a lady of leisure, what with Betty sold and a job found, but not due to start until December. But alas, my stint as a kept woman was not to last, with a request to start my new job over a week early.

Before I started work I managed to squeeze in a festive cheer moment at Westfield to see Mariah Carey sing and turn on the Xmas lights. I turned up an hour or more before she was scheduled to do her thing and the place was packed to the rafters already. Then 6pm came and went and there was still now Mariah. Eventually she decided to grace us with her presence an hour late, and proceeded to gush about how she loves London and is so glad to be in London and loves London. She flicked the switch and on came the lights. Wooh. Then she muttered something about how she wished she could sing, but that we all knew she could sing and then they played 'All I Want for Christmas' from CD. Then they started playing a remixed version (still no live singing) and that is when I walked out realising I'd never get back those hours of my life lol! Probably the most exciting part was the chav fight in the middle of the crowd which had to get broken up by security!

And so my sentence as a soulless retail servant began. Each week the hours at the store got later and later as we bended to the consumer desire to be able to do last minute shopping at unreasonable hours into the night. The cogs in my brain ceased somewhat as I fell into the numbing routine of scanning purchases and asking would you like a small paper bag? There were some saving graces, it was 10 minutes scurried walk from the flat, there was no uniform; if I felt like wearing jeans and a hoody (frequently!), I did. And my work buddies were a colourful bunch and supplied no end of giggles and fun.

Other than working like slaves we were busy taking every chance we could to enjoy the festive build-up to Christmas, which no one knows how to do better than Britain! We nipped into central London one night and took in all the pretty Christmas lights along Oxford Street. Some of the big name department stores like House of Fraser and Debenhams had dazzling displays. Harrods also looked amazing, so we walked the entire block that the store takes up to see all their enchanting window displays which all had a Wizard of Oz–cum– Christmas theme. Even Ryan thoroughly enjoyed the festive lights, he’s slowly starting to lose his Grinchy-ness!

Ryan went along to his first footy game with our football mad flatmate; our local team Fulham played some Europa Cup team. One weekend we popped up to platform 9 and three-quarters but try as I might the portal to Hogwarts wouldn’t let me through. We then had a wander through Covent Garden markets and took in a quartet of gals playing some great violin music. From there we wandered through Chinatown to Soho hoping to have a kiwi hot chocolate and coffee at the infamous ‘flat white’ – the only place in town where one can order a flat white and be understood. But we were thwarted by a lack of a chip and pin facility (eftpos machine) in the cafe and a lack of moolah in our pockets. Cash only. How British.

A week out from Christmas and we had snowfalls two days in a row which resulted in a sudden slashing of the odds for a white Christmas and a general feeling of optimism that such an unusual and fun thing would happen! The final weekend before Christmas we headed off to the Borough Markets, wrapped up in our winter wollies. We wandered the stalls, clutching cups of hot mulled wine, eyeing up all the goodies; the exquisite quiches and pies, creamy cheeses, spicy salami’s, colourful cheesecakes, massive meringues, pickles and preserves, and a tableful of truffles, fudges and Turkish delights. We filled a basket with fresh vege’s and herbs for our xmas day dinner and viewed the variety of game that was for sale; duck, partridge pheasants, pigeons (ew really!?) rabbits and hares.

A couple of days out from Christmas we headed into Hyde Park to its Winter Wonderland. With snow continuing to fall most days it lived up to its name. We wandered about, again sipping mulled wine, enjoying the brightly lit rides and stalls selling an array of German goodies – gingerbread hearts with piped icing, salty pretzels, and of course big German bratwursts in buns.

Really, Christmas just wont be the same in the southern sunny hemisphere.

Ah France

BORDEAUX VIA BIARRITZ

The following morning it's a short drive to the French border where there's some heavies hanging out. Guys with big guns everywhere and a guy hiding behind bushes with road spikes ready to throw out. We couldn't spot what bad arse they were after, maybe it was the truck from Romania, people smuggling into France. Then again maybe it wasn't and our imaginations were running wild.

We drive along the Biarritz coast where the surf is huge. We pull into the town and go for a stroll near the beach, watching fascinated by the big waves crashing ashore. We walk down to the beach for a few photos but when a wave comes thundering right up the beach and onto the walkway we were on we're sent scurrying for higher ground to avoid being swept in.

We continue north, heading towards Bordeaux, and before long old Betty has a line up of trucks behind her. We steadfastly ignore them as we're on a two lane motorway, driving in the slow lane so it's not like they don't have the option of passing us by easily enough. We soon learn to pick a French or German driven truck from a Spanish or Portuguese truck, as the former will catch you, indicate, pass, indicate and pull in nicely in front of you. The latter is a completely different kettle of fish. A Spanish or Portuguese driver will catch you, tailgate you for ages, sit right on your 20 year old campers arse for another 10 kilometres, pull out, nearly collecting your bikes off the back of the camper as he goes, pass and pull in, taking paint of the corner of the front bumper as he goes. I flip the bird at umpteen Spanish truck drivers that afternoon.

We get to the outskirts of Bordeaux and find our campground, a nice little place. I manage to get across that we want to stay three nights, two people. The camp owner manages to get across the price (shown to me on a calculator!) and that the bus to town is found by turning left out of the campground gates. Transaction successful. We head into town by bus and tram, both of which are rammed full of university students. In town we sign up for a half day tour to some vineyards in the expansive Bordeaux wine region and are done for the day.

We do a dash of sightseeing about town the following day before our tour left for the vineyards of the Medoc area, renowned for its reds, mainly cab sav and merlots (blended of course). We drive for about an hour past one pretty chateaux after another. Finally our driver Jacque has had enough of throwing us around roundabouts too tiny for tour buses and we've arrived at our first chateaux for a tour and tasting. The Chateaux Arney gives us a long winded speech on the wine making process and I admit I tuned out after the hearing the word fermentation for the 17th time in as many minutes. But eventually we get to the good bit, the tastings. We're given a 4 year old wine to start with which is quite delicious, but its easily topped by the 10 year old bottle we taste next from 1999. We grab a bottle for ourselves for an unbelievable €12.

Onto the next one, a family owned chateaux, classified as second class since 1855 (5 classes of wine). Luckily they know we've been been drilled on the wine making process, so tell us more about the history of the area and chateaux itself. Then it's onto the tastings, the first being more Merlot, less Cab Sav which Ryan like and I don't so much. The second wine is the opposite blend, more Cab Sav, less Merlot, which I like better and Ryan less so! Then they sweeten us up with a wee baked treat, a little desert traditional to the area. It's made with the egg yolks left over from the chateaux using egg whites to draw impurities out of the wine. Then its back onto the bus with pedal to the metal Jacque who whips us back to Bordeaux in next to no time.

On our final day in Bordeaux we wander about, poking our noses into wonderfully large wine stores and smear our noses against the windows of patisseries and chocolatiers. We pick a couple of bottles of the good stuff and waste no time in polishing one off with dinner back in camp. This is the life.

BORDEAUX TO BRITTANY

After a mega long drive the following day we arrive into Brittany and eventually find somewhere to stay. Well at least we think we can stay there. It appears as though the campground is still open, though there is no one else there and no one manning reception. So we park up and plug in. A few hours later the owner knocks at Betty's door and takes a tenner from us for the night.

The following morning we drive 10km down the road to Carnac, a small village with a brief mention in the Lonely Planet. Carnac is famous for its stones - a dense collection of megalithic sites - like Stonehenge but stranger (these ones are all in rows and rows, stretching for kilometres across the land) and many more stones. The more than 3,000 prehistoric standing stones were hewn from local rock and erected by the pre-Celtic people of Brittany, and are the largest such collection in the world! Stonewho??

Local tradition claims that the reason they stand in such perfectly straight lines is that they are a Roman legion turned to stone by Merlin. The stones were erected at some stage during the Neolithic period, probably around 3300 BC, but some may date to as old as 4500 BC.

From Carnac we head off on some of the most scenic roads we have driven on, toward St Malo in the north of Brittany. Our drive leaves us in love with France and the countryside and villages of Brittany. In the seaside town of St Malo we eventually find a carpark and are able to walk into town round the bay, which smells just as beaches should, a definite waft of seaweed and salt hangs in the air. In town we walk around the old town wall looking down into the busy streets and stroll the beachfront some more. We wrap things up and drive a short way to a campground near Le Mont St Michel to see it the following morning.

The following morning we head a few kilometres along the road and see Le Mont St Michel looming up at the end of the road through the early morning sea mist. Its an impressive castle at the end of a long sweep of beach, and at high tide it becomes surrounded by the sea. There's a small town in some narrow streets below the castle inside of the castle walls, and I think all of 40 people live there. We spend a good few hours there exploring before we head into Normandy, to stay in Bayeux for a couple of nights.

In Bayeux we park Betty up and take a solemn wander through the war cemetery in town. The orderly rows upon rows of crosses are rather sobering. Then we walk into the town centre to see the famous Bayeux tapestry - its a 0.5 by 70 metres long embroidered cloth which depicts the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England as well as the events of the invasion itself in 1066. Now what wikipedia doesn't say is that Geraldine has its own replica of this famous tapestry, made entirely of metal. I suggest you check it out.

The following day we use Betty to take us tripping along the Normandy coast where the Allies came ashore in WWII. We stopped off at various beaches, including Omaha beach and explored the remains of war along the coast, including seeing German concrete bunkers, the breakwater constructed off the coast and more. Before we leave the next day we go through the Normandy museum which is quite well done. We also pop back into town as its market day and get some fabulous Normandy cheeses to take back to London.

Towards the middle of the day we hit the road and make a beeline for Calais. We drive until night falls and we are only 50km short of Calais. We manage to find a free camping spot above a beach somewhere along the coast and pull in for the night and our last night in Europe is spent in a peaceful and low key spot. The following morning we are up and off, reaching Calais for our ferry crossing in no time.

13 weeks and 17,000 kilometres later, we are back on the Dover-Calais ferry, where it all started. Boo.