Back in the drivers seat.

Iberia and beyond. 

Winter 2017

As many of you will know, 2017 has been the worst year of our lives. 

We lost our youngest daughter, Andrea, to the Black Dog, that is bipolar.

Because of our love of touring, Christmas 2016 was the last time we were all together as a happy family unit, in fact, just for a change Kim, our eldest, did Christmas lunch at her house and Andrea, regaled us with a Boxing Day feast at hers.

Margaret and I decided we didn’t want Christmas at home this year so we felt we needed to try to find a more benevolent location, offering sunnier days and good company.

Hopefully we’ll find both, on this, our fourth European odyssey. It hasn’t failed us yet.

Starting off on December 10th sailings from Rosslare Ireland to Cherbourg in France, then going down the western side of France into Northern Spain, where we’ll turn west and slowly make our way down through Portugal. We’ve booked a lovely hotel for four days over Christmas, near Faro, it’s a former castle and looks impressive. 

We’ll go further south towards Spain and Gibraltar, where we’ll play with the apes beefier getting a ferry to Tunis in Morocco. 

Here we hope to explore the Atlas mountains before heading over to the Atlantic coast at Casablanca, turning north to go back up to the ferry back to Spain.

Margaret will be flying home from Malaga for two weeks at the end of January, to take over mother sitting duties, before returning to Malaga with Kim, who is coming out for a week to celebrate her birthday in February.

When Kim returns home, we’ll turn north and head up through central Spain, across the Pyrenees, into France, and then home, hopefully when the snow has gone from our shores and the days are longer.

Hope you enjoy the offerings, have a lovely Christmas and peaceful 2018.

France.

And how remiss of me not to be punctual.

Well, I couldn’t be punctual because we’ve been off sites with wife for five days, and such a lot has happened.

Venice. Been there, got the t-shirt, not for us. The city or state is a rip off from the time you get near it. What did my head in was being charged to SIT in their restaurants, being forced to pay a 12% service charge, by law!

We ate in a lovely looking restaurant, and to be, such character, fair the food was fine. But the service? Really woeful.

Walked the legs off ourselves, so much so in fact, that Margaret fell out with me. We walked that far, we got a water bus back to the station and it was thirteen stops.

Wonderful buildings, such character, we didn’t even mind when the sea started coming up through the man holes in St Marks Piazza!

Just stayed one night and headed north west towards Switzerland. We stopped at a country restaurant and asked if we could stay if we ate.

No problem.

The food was a la mama! In fact, I think mama was the cook, but it didn’t take away from the honesty and freshness of our meals. A bottle of wine and four courses, €22!!!!

No chance of getting caught drink driving, we repaid the hospitality with some Limoncellos and were last to leave. Slept really well and woke up to the buzz of small talk. The pub opens at 07:30 for cures and croissants!

Today we would be going into Switzerland, through the amazing 17km tunnel at Gothard.

More to come.

France.

And how remiss of me not to be punctual.

Well, I couldn’t be punctual because we’ve been off sites with wife for five days, and such a lot has happened.

Venice. Been there, got the t-shirt, not for us. The city or state is a rip off from the time you get near it. What did my head in was being charged to SIT in their restaurants, being forced to pay a 12% service charge, by law! Even when the service was fekkin atrocious?

We ate in a lovely looking restaurant, and to be, such character, fair the food was fine. But the service? Really woeful.

Walked the legs off ourselves, so much so in fact, that Margaret fell out with me. We walked that far, we got a water bus back to the station and it was thirteen stops.

Wonderful buildings, such character, we didn’t even mind when the sea started coming up through the man holes in St Marks Piazza!

Just stayed one night and headed north west towards Switzerland. We stopped at a country restaurant and asked if we could stay if we ate.

No problem.

The food was a la mama! In fact, I think mama was the cook, but it didn’t take away from the honesty and freshness of our meals. A bottle of wine and four courses, €22!!!!

No chance of getting caught drink driving, we repaid the hospitality with some Limoncellos and were last to leave. Slept really well and woke up to the buzz of small talk. The pub opens at 07:30 for cures and croissants!

Today we would be going into Switzerland, through the amazing 17km tunnel at Gothard.

More to come.

Not our first outing of the year by any means, but I thought it might be good to get myself into writing mode because Euro 17 is only seven weeks away.

We find ourselves at Currans Bar in Ardglass, a quaint pub in the nineties style, and full of interesting people. We had quite a yarn with retired motor homers, that is, retired from motor homing. They had a van for some time but he got fed up doing all the driving.

Now back to the bar where the food was nothing to write home about, the fish was very disappointing, but Margaret had a steak, which was flavoursome and cooked nicely.

We arrived in the town around three, and parked up by the marina and got the kettle on. The rain had started pouring down about five minutes after we arrived and kept at it till about eleven.

Ardglass is a working port, and accounts for much of the northern Irish fish catch. Back in the day, this is where my fish came from. It has had its fair share and more of marine tragedy, the pit fall of the very hard working fishing fleet.

There is plenty of parking at the marina and different spots in the vicinity, lots of eateries, and a couple of large shops.

The locals are a friendly bunch, except for the young moron that thumped Helga while we were watching telly about ten thirty. Still, thats the joy of parking up in a country pub at the weekend. Especially if there’s an eighteenth birthday party going on!

There are three routes to our next destination, and one off them would take us past our daughters house, so we chose that. We called in, it’s always a joy to see Adam our grandson. The reason for this trip was based around the pride we both in him, and now that he’s playing in a rock band all the better. We hijacked Adam and took him on a mini road trip, much to his pleasure. After a walk along Belfast Lough, we had tea in the van, which as usual, Adam loved, and then to the venue which not only was our stop for the night, but where his band were playing.

The club is fine, and they have no problems with parking overnight. The car park is monitored and they have a night watchman. We both slept like lords, not even hearing the revellers at throw out time. Mind you, I can’t remember what time we left, that might account for the sleep!

Having nothing better to do, we headed for Ballygally, it was going to be Glenarm, another favourite spot, but the main car park in Ballygally was quite empty so we parked up. 

One of the greatest or even the only problem, with our hobby is finding somewhere to empty the toilet cassette. We’ve been fortunate never to have had problems, and this was no different. The public toilet almost on our doorstep facilitated our need very well. 

So, as we were 98% charged battery wise, and an empty cassette we went for the first walk of the day, under clear blue skies and a chilly 4 degrees, we walked up and down the beach before walking down to the Half Way House for a nice warming hot port.

These have very special memories for me, apart from working as sous Chef in the castle, and our Saturday night foray down to the Halfway, where they kept the bar open till we were gone. Some nights when we had been very busy, it could have been after midnight before we even got out. Cant imagine what four drunken chefs and a few equally drunk waiters sounds like on the walk back home. 

The other memory is of the time I threw Margaret into the sea here! We were not long going out together and we were out for a run with our Dawn and Des. I was giving Margaret a twirl, and as we gathered pace, she shot from my grasp into the cold Irish Sea. I thought that was the end of that romance but 45 years later it has been proved that even if you throw a wee girl wearing a brand new hot pant suit into the sea, she’ll still torture you.

Enough of that, we returned to the heat of Helga and after a coffee, a short siesta, before dinner and a post prandial stroll along the sea front.

Ardglass, The Standard, and Ballygally.

Not our first outing of the year by any means, but I thought it might be good to get myself into writing mode because Euro 17 is only seven weeks away.

We find ourselves at Currans Bar in Ardglass, a quaint pub in the nineties style, and full of interesting people. We had quite a yarn with retired motor homers, that is, retired from motor homing. They had a van for some time but he got fed up doing all the driving.

Now back to the bar where the food was nothing to write home about, the fish was very disappointing, but Margaret had a steak, which was flavoursome and cooked nicely.

We arrived in the town around three, and parked up by the marina and got the kettle on. The rain had started pouring down about five minutes after we arrived and kept at it till about eleven.

Ardglass is a working port, and accounts for much of the northern Irish fish catch. Back in the day, this is where my fish came from. It has had its fair share and more of marine tragedy, the pit fall of the very hard working fishing fleet.

There is plenty of parking at the marina and different spots in the vicinity, lots of eateries, and a couple of large shops.

The locals are a friendly bunch, except for the young moron that thumped Helga while we were watching telly about ten thirty. Still, thats the joy of parking up in a country pub at the weekend. Especially if there’s an eighteenth birthday party going on!

There are three routes to our next destination, and one off them would take us past our daughters house, so we chose that. We called in, it’s always a joy to see Adam our grandson. The reason for this trip was based around the pride we both in him, and now that he’s playing in a rock band all the better. We hijacked Adam and took him on a mini road trip, much to his pleasure. After a walk along Belfast Lough, we had tea in the van, which as usual, Adam loved, and then to the venue which not only was our stop for the night, but where his band were playing.

The club is fine, and they have no problems with parking overnight. The car park is monitored and they have a night watchman. We both slept like lords, not even hearing the revellers at throw out time. Mind you, I can’t remember what time we left, that might account for the sleep!

Having nothing better to do, we headed for Ballygally, it was going to be Glenarm, another favourite spot, but the main car park in Ballygally was quite empty so we parked up. 

One of the greatest or even the only problem, with our hobby is finding somewhere to empty the toilet cassette. We’ve been fortunate never to have had problems, and this was no different. The public toilet almost on our doorstep facilitated our need very well. 

So, as we were 98% charged battery wise, and an empty cassette we went for the first walk of the day, under clear blue skies and a chilly 4 degrees, we walked up and down the beach before walking down to the Half Way House for a nice warming hot port.

These have very special memories for me, apart from working as sous Chef in the castle, and our Saturday night foray down to the Halfway, where they kept the bar open till we were gone. Some nights when we had been very busy, it could have been after midnight before we even got out. Cant imagine what four drunken chefs and a few equally drunk waiters sounds like on the walk back home. 

The other memory is of the time I threw Margaret into the sea here! We were not long going out together and we were out for a run with our Dawn and Des. I was giving Margaret a twirl, and as we gathered pace, she shot from my grasp into the cold Irish Sea. I thought that was the end of that romance but 45 years later it has been proved that even if you throw a wee girl wearing a brand new hot pant suit into the sea, she’ll still torture you.

Enough of that, we returned to the heat of Helga and after a coffee, a short siesta, before dinner and a post prandial stroll along the sea front.