Bit of a Diary... part II

23 January 

Our last breakfast at Constantia Valley Lodge and we say goodbye to Steve (from Ouseburn) and our lovely Anglo-German friends - Renata and Yoda (Peter). This place has changed sadly since the arrival of all Renee's golf friends. Now less friendly and we are slightly irritated by Baron Von Bombast's (not his real name but like the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang character!) frequently shouting. Time to go. 

We head initially towards Stellenbosch which is like Harrogate with wine! Good shops and cafes and some nice linen shorts! 

Then on to Franschhoek and for the second time on our travels (Australia being the first) we are effectively abandoned in the vineyard where we are staying with no staff after 6.00pm. This is Manoir de Brendell. Seemingly tomorrow it will be busy because there's a wedding on ...

We drive to the vineyard opposite - Paserene - and enjoy 2 wines (me) and 5 wines (Bert) and lots of delicious tapas. We walk home and are delighted to get back in through the electric gates (memories of Australia again). However this is the first time we have really been affected by load shedding (the South African method of reducing electricity use). At 8.00pm all but essential electricity is turned off so asleep by 9.00pm. 

24th January

We wake up to clouds and rain - not in the plan! And today is our wine/tuktuk morning. We get Hannaz (designated driver) to take us into town and drop us at the tuktuk station. As it turns out, we start at the best - La Motte - with the incredibly knowledgeable Ross who takes us through a host of wines with great tasting notes. Finding my wine feet (or flippers!) here a little at last. 

                                                                Tuktuk wine tours! 

Then it's on to Leopard's Leap which is more of a showroom than a winery. Very impressive building but the wine is nowhere near as good. We wait for ages for the tuktuk to return but eventually he arrives and takes us to our third and final winery of the morning - Grand Provence. This is beautiful and we have some cheese and fruit with our six wines. Then we return to the Manoir de Brendell very full! 

A bit of lazing around the pool as the weather has returned to its glorious normal before changing for the Cafe de Vin for dinner. Getting there proved challenging as Ubers don't really operate here so we ring Hannaz who is at the airport. He instead sends another blokey who takes us and then says he will pick us up at 9.00. Great steaks, fabulous wine - then no taxi. After 20 minutes the maitre d' calls us a cab. Not actually being in the centre of Franschhoek is slightly challenging if you want a drink! 

                                                                                                                

                                                    Beautiful pool at Manoir de Brendall

25th January

Lovely morning by the pool whilst Robert went to the Motor Museum. There is now another family here with a Freddie-sized boy - very cute. 

Today is La Petite Colombe day - surely the most impressive restaurant I have ever been to. Absolutely stunning surroundings starting with a walk round the sculpture part before going in. We choose the Reduced Chef's menu with paired wines despite my needing all my wines to be red! Amazing, amazing food and phenomenal wine. Utterly extraordinary! I go to congratulate the kitchen team on my way back from the loo and nearly burst into tears! What am I like? Applause! Afterwards we walk along the garden after lunch towards the uber-amazing hotel having decided that a wine tasting is a bridge too far. 

                                                

Lying by the pool in the late afternoon before taking a short walk amongst the wines. Note to self: don't do this in flip-flops - loads of thorns! 

                                        

26th January

Beautiful morning, beautiful day! Lying by the pool until Hannaz comes to take us to Chamonix for lunch - fabulous food. Afterwards we walk into Franschhoek down the hill in the heat and after a little light shopping we find a bar and drink beer in the sun. Luckily Hannaz was in the bar so he took us home a little later. Load shedding again. 

27th January

We say goodbye not too sadly to Charmian at the Manor de Brendell and get a good 20 minutes up the road before getting a call to say we have left the battery charger. Back we go. 

Arriving at Fernwood Manor in Newlands. Very easy. Our room was not ready but a cake and tea later and we're in our room and it's very pleasant with excellent pool right outside our door. Lie by the pool before heading into downtown Cape Town to El Paradiso which was probably the only disappointing meal we had. We should have booked the Black Sheep two doors down which number 4 and I had loved and was rocking and rolling. All meals are about the same price regardless of how good they are. El Paradiso was only ok. Home in an Uber and sleep the sleep of the dead - oh yeah! 

28th January

Wet. So disappointing. After a lot of toing and froing we decide to go to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens despite being told that it's not as good as it was. Actually it was lovely though very wet - glad we went. Met fabulous people who were doing 7 marathons in 7 days on 7 continents - utterly bonkers and insanely wealthy! Then back to Fernwood Manor for reading and napping - albeit indoors. 

                                                        Beautiful sculpture at Kirstenbosch

                                       

                                                                            The Table Cloth!

Our evening jaunt was to Lobster and Burger - an excellent burger joint on Bree Street. Fab food, great atmosphere. Then back to Fernwood for an early night. Last day tomorrow. Feeling torn - love it here but also ready to be home. Lots of happy memories at Kirstenbosch Gardens today from my holiday with Number 4. Special mother and daughter times 4 years ago. 

29th January

Last day today and feeling a bit ropey so my beloved takes the car back to the rental place and I stay by the pool. We meet Robin Smith (and his lovely wife) ex-Chair of Yorkshire Country Cricket. Hang about by the pool all day enjoying the last of the South African sun. Boy, I will miss waking up each day to Table Mountain. I love looking at it from wherever we are. The constantly changing light and shade, the clouds (known as the Table Cloth) and the magic of it all. 

We walk to a neighbourhood pizzeria and then home to pack. 

South Africa - it's been a blast!! 

                             Mum would have loved this wine - a tribute to a great lady! 

Bit of a Diary for our Fabulous Cape Town Holiday (Part 1!)

                                        

Four years ago, number 4 child and I headed to Cape Town for a brilliant week of fun, amazing sights and great weather and yes... it was a blast! And now we're back - slightly different dramatis personae with Number 4's place being taken by my beloved - but we are most definitely back. Here's our story...

15th January 

We manage to leave Crow House early - that never happens. Surely a good omen and we have such such a good run that we have to wait in airport parking for the valet guy. Flying long haul from Heathrow is a breeze compared to short haul from any other UK airports. Snack in the lounge and then on to the plane which is absolutely full. Virgin Atlantic staff are very good and apart from a poor amount of sleeping due to - the snoring one on one side and an American woman on the other who watched television until 2.00 am and then didn't switch it off. Ho hum! 

16th January 

We land into the sunshine. Straight through customs and into a taxi driven by Gilbert who is the size of a prop forward. Constantia Valley Lodge is beautiful, peaceful and in spite of it being 7.30am so rather ahead of our check-in time, very welcoming. Our room is one of the cheaper ones but we can have it straight away and it's perfect. 

As I write, there are tiny white scuds of clouds in the otherwise deep blue sky, a small bush of limes growing behind me, roses everywhere and through the gap in the border a view of Table Mountain. Is this heaven? Should we sell up and run a B&B here? 

                                            Constantia Valley Lodge - my favourite of our hotels

                                        

                                                            Palm trees in the garden

A lovely day in the sun, punctuated by a couple of hours napping on the bed, catching up with myself. Renee, our host, kindly drives us to La Belle, a couple of streets away for delicious food in a lovely relaxed atmosphere. We walk home (nobody walks here, as we discover) and chat with some other guests before I crash for a full 12 hours sleep. 

                                                    

                                                                And so it begins! 

                                        Lime bushes in the garden at Constantia Valley Lodge 

17th January

Andy Murray wins in Australia! Unbelievably he beats Berrettini though it took him 4 hours. My social media accounts are full of Sir Andy! 

Hop on an Uber down to the city centre where we get on a HOHO bus for a city tour. Up Table Mountain and then down to Camps Bay for a glass of something and a snack. Amazing acrobats on the road!

The beautiful beach at Camps Bay

                                                                    Acrobats - of course! 

Back on the bus and into town to collect the hire car. Stress. I prefer to leave these things until we absolutely can't do without them but my beloved needs no encouragement so a hire car it is. We wend our way back to Constantia via a million small roads and hope for the best. 

We are meeting Susan and Degsy tonight but already the booking has gone wrong. We arrive at the lift to the 6th floor in the Old Biscuit Mill (of which more later) and there is a power cut (of which even more later). Moments later it's back on and we head up. "No" they haven't got room for our two people to become four. Low level panic but the maitre d' says don't worry. Susan and Degsy arrive and Susan tells us that Degsy hates lifts and heights. He is traumatised. Luckily he recovers quickly and we are given a table at Pot Luck Club - Conde Nast Travellers No1 restaurant. Everything is as it should be - great old friends and amazing, amazing food. Some of the best food I've ever had and tooo much wine for my beloved who subsequently says he can't remember how we got home! (in a taxi, in case you wondered!) 

18th January

Rain in the night and swathes of clouds rushing across the skyline over Table Mountain. Will Table Mountain even be open? We set off not too optimistically via Hout Bay to avoid the traffic in the city centre at rush hour. By the time we get to Table Mountain, the clouds are still scudding across but the cable car is running so we park and set off.

The cable car is full of Americans but once we reach the top at speed they quickly disperse. We walk across the Malham Tarn-type landscape for over an hour, watching the landscape below - wild and impressive - change as the clouds move across. The view of the city below is truly extraordinary - all the way to Robben Island in the ocean. We find a rock not unlike the one where I photographed number 4 four years ago. Good memories. Hot chocolate on top of the world. 

                                        

            Me and my knobbly (but new!) knees with Robben Island in the background 

We make our way back via the supermarket where Bert again thinks he has lost his wallet. This is not good and we do think for a moment that we will have to go back up Table Mountain. Fortunately we don't! 

The afternoon is spent lying in the shade before pre-dinner drinks with our fellow guests. Then off to Buitenverwachting with Susan and Degsy. Fab evening - unbelievable food. Truly you would never get a meal like that for under £100 in the UK.

19th January

Designated quiet day today. We elect, despite being invited to the Vineyard by Susan and Degsy, to lounge by the pool, deal with a booking and an enquiry. However we choose the day that Andrew and Renee (our hosts) are hosting the arrival of their golfing chums and they sit outside the breakfast room making a terrible racket which makes Renate - married to English bloke Yoda (not his real name) - kick off. We decide to set off early to Hout Bay and then on to Camps Bay for our booking at the Codfather. Hout Bay is quite run down and even though it has a beautiful beach it was covered in jellyfish. 

On to Camps Bay where having established (via the estate agents' windows) that we could sell our house and buy a pretty nice condo, we head to the Codfather. It is everything it is cracked up to be - great atmosphere, superb ford, buzzing, like the old Flying Pizza on speed! We choose kingklip, tuna, calamari and scallops served together to share between us. Delicious - and then back home early. Lovely day! 

Just some of the seafood fare at the Codfather! 

20th January 

Bit of a road trip planned for today. We head to Nord Hoek and enjoy a coffee at the Food Barn where we are eating later with Susan and Degsy. I'm feeling not 100% but a mint, honey and ginger tea improves things a lot. Then on to the toll road over Chapman's Peak stopping for the stunning views. On to Boulders Bay to visit the penguins. "Are they real?" asks number 2 when we send her pictures for Freddie. Yes! 

                                                                    Yes they are real! 

                                               One of the beautiful views from Chapman's Peak

The coast road from Simon's Town is blocked by heavy traffic so by 1.30 we have had enough and head back to Constantia. A couple of hours by the pool and a nap and I'm all good to go! 

We meet Susan and Degsy back at the Food Barn. I feel I ought to describe the food we've had this week as it is truly extraordinary. 

Monday: La Belle - probably the most traditional meal we've had but beautiful ingredients for tired diners. 

Tuesday: The Pot Luck Club. Perhaps we ordered too many tapas but otherwise a stupendous meal with great staff. 

Wednesday: Buitenverwatching. Absolutely sublime. I thought last night was amazing but this is beyond words.

Thursday: The Codfather. An institution - beautiful fish cooked to order. No wonder it's hard to get in. 

Friday: The Food Barn. 2 tapas helpings each. Just beautiful - our last lovely evening with Susan and Degsy or at least we thought... Lovely! 

21st January

Up and out early (not really but to Robert it probably was!) to go to the Old Biscuit Mill. Having panicked a bit about parking, I didn't need to and we were slotted in almost opposite. The place was buzzing and the food stalls, as ever, amazing. We had a leisurely walk round the stalls and eventually bought some food for lunch on the beach at Bloumbergstrand - amazing view of Table Mountain with the bay standing between us and Cape Town. 

                                            

                                        Bloumbergstrand and the amazing view of Table Mountain

                                                                Beautiful proteas

Back to Constantia Valley Lodge for a nap and a read then we walk back to La Belle. A restful evening following by a terrible movie about a drink and drug-soaked pilot. Poor choice! 

22nd January

La Belle - or La Belle plus whatever drugs I am on now - turns out not to be the best choice. Upset stomach and my beloved gets me some imodeum but we're going nowhere today. I sleep pretty much all morning but feeling better later. Meanwhile the Barn guests are complaining about the shower. Richard dealing with it, bless him. 

We return to the Codfather at Camps Bay with Susan and Degsy. Lovely evening, lovely people.

                                        

                                                        Camps Bay at sunset 

With the greatest respect, Ma'am

I've read and listened to so many thoughts of people, famous and unknown, those who knew her, met her and those for whom Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was a lifetime institution no more tangible than God. Do I have the right to put my thoughts into words or am I, like so many others, just more flotsam and jetsam on the sea of mass grief? Well, I'm going to do it anyway because, like so many others, she mattered in my life and perhaps because most of all, I'd like my children and maybe grandchildren to know this. 

To find the roots of my feelings towards the Queen, you have to dig deep and far back. It begins, I suppose, with the abdication of Edward VIII in 1936, not that I was alive then, by the way. This act of defiance, of personal desire over duty, is probably the single deed that forged the monarchy as we understand it now and the three subsequent generations of the House of Windsor. My mother told me that when my grandmother, the formidable Nana, listened to the abdication speech on the radio, she wept inconsolably. Edward VIII was the rock star of her age. It was unthinkable that he could choose Wallace over the Crown. And yet, as mum would remind us, had he not abdicated, we might all be speaking German now (her view). 

My parents were massive Royalists. I once pointed out to my father when I was learning Civil War history, that he might have fought for Oliver Cromwell instead of the rather underperforming monarch of the time, Charles I. It was unthinkable for him. Their's was the generation that had survived the Second World War when the Royal Family refused to leave London to safer Royal homes. My father who was in the Army once guarded the then Queen (the Queen Mother latterly) and the two princesses during the War. We have a photograph of my father sitting with all three of them. Their unselfish role counted for so much and bound them to the majority of our parents' generation more than mere words could ever have done.

Then comes my near-brush with the Royal Family. When I was a teenager and Prince Charles, now King obviously, was still unmarried, the great and good were invited to the Royal Garden Parties and were encouraged to bring along their single daughters of a suitable age. King Charles must have thought yuk and my thoughts on him were not dissimilar. However, just the possibility of it all made my mother's heart beat a little faster. My memories of those occasions are confined to the wonderful flamingoes in the lake at the bottom of the garden and the massive crush in the tea tent. Ungrateful child! 

Both my parents were honoured by Her Majesty - my father was knighted which made him, and us, very proud and brought my mother a level of status she never forgot. My father was not a popular choice of husband for my mother as far as Nana was concerned, being quite a bit older with two children already, but he promised he would make a lady of her and he certainly made good on that. My mother was later honoured with the CBE. I sat at the back of the ballroom at Buckingham Palace with Daddy whilst my mother stepped up to receive her award. My father, not prone to being emotional, wiped a tear from his eye. He was so proud of her. 

So Monday was, as well as saying goodbye to the greatest head of state this country has ever known, another small farewell to Mum. She would have been devastated by the Queen's passing and would have been rooted to the television for the past week. 

And now we go forward and the sheer brilliant Britishness of the funeral (who could not be proud?) will be quickly forgotten and our attention overtaken by rising fuel bills, a plethora of strikes and the sad but brave status of the Ukraine. Let us in our farewells, remember that she would have wanted us to give King Charles a fair crack, both here and in the Commonwealth. She'll be a tough act to follow. 

God bless you, ma'am. 

Well and Truly Grounded

Making sure they're doing the right one!

For the second time in my life I am well and truly grounded. 

Just over two weeks ago, I was pacing the hospital room waiting to be taken down. Why does that sound like something from the script of a courtroom drama? Anyway, taken down for surgery rather than a more severe sentence though as I sit here it does kind of feel like the latter. I had spent the five hours between being dropped off by my beloved at the hospital and the aforementioned downward journey wondering why I was putting myself through this. Elective surgery requires a mindset that I haven't tested before. 

Previous surgery discussions a few years ago were based on the principle that if I didn't do anything I might die. That makes the whole decision-making thing remarkably easy. This, however, was something else. A year ago I pushed my knee once too often too far. For the next six months, lots of stuff got tried to see if I could avoid what turned out to be the inevitable. Broadly, the net result was that I could continue my life as normal and accept the consequences which was: night pain that stopped me sleeping, limping, walking with a stick, wearing a knee brace and not knowing from one day to the next how much I would be able to do. This is liveable with. There are lots of people with much worse issues than me and I am so fortunate in so many ways that this seems like a small price to pay. Except that it isn't. Long term. 

So, despite my desire to cut and run before reaching the operating theatre (running quite slowly, obviously),  I didn't and now I am two weeks into a six week stint of Being Good! This, it turns out, is quite hard too. Despite being told that the first bit post-op is very painful, I was working on the theory that I've had 4 children and cancer so I can cope with most stuff. Two lots of painkillers were provided on discharge but it turned out that the stronger one did not agree with me. In fact, a few hours after arriving home, I had my head in a plastic bin in my son's room. Just for reference, the rather robust bin was in his room rather than his sisters' for the same reason that I was using it now. Except he had more fun getting that way! Anyway, I'm not taking any more of those pills so soldiering on without is now the order of the day.

I have absolutely brilliant friends. Either that, or I have guilted them all into visiting because I can't go anywhere. After two weeks, I am now the lucky recipient of more gossip, funny stories and anecdotes than I have been in a long time. Two of my four children have been home, one of them helpfully asking "When did you get so old?" as I perambulated slowly up the garden. But at least I am perambulating and I can now make it to the cattle grid and back with the little dog who thinks we've all gone mad. One point with regard to Darcy, the small dog. I have been the centre of her universe for the last four years but it turns out her affections are all too easily bought! She is now following my beloved's every move and is all over my guests like a rash. Just saying...

The lovely physio suggested on Monday (our first appointment of many, probably) that, having told her I could walk round the garden with my sticks, I should walk to my next door neighbour's. I didn't say that was over half a mile away, as I was so grateful that I could move beyond the confines of the sofa that I was almost giddy with excitement. Did I remember to ask her any of the questions that had cropped up over the last week and a half? No. I am now writing a list as I go along of stuff to ask her next time. I shall be better prepared in future. 

Meanwhile at home, my beloved is whirling round like the proverbial dervish doing many changeovers in the Barn (busiest time of year, of course), washing (though there was nearly an underwear crisis this morning), feeding me and trying to stop the entire garden from dying. He is doing a sterling job but I must be well enough to get my bulbs planted at the end of September. I'd like to think all this hyper-activity means he is losing weight ...we shall see. 

So hopefully I have at least achieved a tiny dent in the rehab mountain and despite me and 'him indoors' being cooped up together far too much, we have not killed each other yet. I'll keep you posted. Now where's the carving knife?!

Darcy finding the whole recuperation thing exhausting!

Another Weekend in Auld Reekie

I wake up on Saturday morning and look out of the window. In the far distance, a commercial airliner is cutting its way across the sky and the trick of perspective makes it look as if it's flying at the same height as Edinburgh Castle's steep escarpment. No, I'm not on drugs (yet!) but I am in that very special city.

Our relationship with Edinburgh goes right back through the Fringe where number 1 child had her first big theatre hit (going on eventually to the National in London), via a splendid 50th birthday weekend with a big team from our home village, through two children who had cumulatively seven brilliant years at university here to the dim and distant annual trips to the Scottish Schools Lacrosse Championships and a very dear and rather eccentric aunt and uncle. Yes, it's been a lifetime of fabulous weekends, short breaks and much more. Love it! 

This time we are here to enjoy my beloved's Christmas present (from me so I'm enjoying it too) which is a night at the Castle with Deacon Blue, one of our favourite and very Scottish live bands. So... a great band playing with an iconic backdrop in one of our favourite cities. 

Friday night and we are installed in our little flat near Grass Market which is excellent in all respects except for the three flights of steep, winding stairs required to reach it. I'm good with this despite the dodgy knee but my beloved less so. He's carrying heavier luggage, I guess. 

We've already booked Dusit https://www.dusit.co.uk which is a superb Thai restaurant where the food and the service is off the scale. Delicious and at least we have three flights of stairs to help us walk it off! Also this is a good thing because we have planned breakfast early - we're outside the doors when it opens - at the belly-busting Southern Cross just off the Royal Mile. We have fed all our team there at one time or other and breakfast is always enough to keep you going till mid-afternoon. Plus I have a great photograph of us there with number 1 showing off her brand new diamond engagement ring with her brand new fiancé. Happy memories. 

Because we've been here so many times it isn't easy to find somewhere within walking distance that we haven't already visited. At this stage I'm not counting out going to Holyrood Palace again because I love the stain on the floor where Mary Queen of Scots' secretary Rizzio was murdered before her very eyes. Actually she's one of my two favourite beheaded queens - the other being Anne Boleyn of course. There's very little doubt that the bloodstain on the floor is artificially enhanced but I just love the drama of it! 

Anyway, not Holyrood this time but the Royal Botanic Gardens https://www.rbge.org.uk which are situated in Stockbridge and you can take the charming and shady Leith river walk to get there away from the city pavements and bustle. And on a beautiful sunny day the Gardens are perfect and peaceful. In various shady glades on our walk round there are chairs set up for weddings - I am so happy for the brides and grooms that they have this glorious weather and fabulous setting. 

After a bit of a sit-down in front of Wimbledon on the telly as we are a bit longer in the tooth than we once were, we head out for a cheapo supper in Grass Market and to join the queue to go into the Castle. The staging and seating which are put up every year for the Tattoo (which we've also been lucky enough to attend courtesy of the Intrepid Granny) is amazing and this year a whole host of bands have been booked to ensure that the auditorium is full for plenty of nights before the Tattoo comes to town. 

Deacon Blue is the musical equivalent of the Saltire - the only other band we have heard live which is so intrinsically Scots is The Proclaimers. This is our third Deacon Blue concert and we are instantly immersed by the glorious harmonies of Ricky Ross and the incomparable Lorraine McIntosh. These are anthems for the place and time and so filled with Scottishness (yes, a real word) that I have to subsume my Englishness for the duration of the concert. But this is exactly why we wanted to see the band in Scotland rather than south of the border. And very special it was. 

Finally just before we head home, we visit another of our favourite breakfast spots, Victor Hugo in the Meadows. Sadly this has completely gone to pot and after an hour of waiting having ordered and paid for pastries and coffee we give up and get a refund. Such a shame that this once-lovely place is no longer a winner. But if that is Edinburgh's only disappointment it's a small blip in a very fine weekend. Now feeling jealous of folks going to the Fringe this year. 

Postscript: My knee which has caused a fair amount of discomfort over the last year is finally going under the knife in a couple of weeks so no more gallivanting for a bit. But I plan to try to do some more proper writing whilst I supervise domestic matters from the sofa. We shall see...

Tresco - Being Silly in the Scillies - part 2 (This one is actually about Tresco!)

Finally our destination is in sight (and it's only two and a half days since we left home!). It's a short hop by small boat from St Mary's to Tresco via Bryher and excitement is mounting. For me perhaps in a different way from the others because although some of the party have been here before and already love it, the last time I came was on an Intrepid Granny holiday and it was, without doubt, one of my favourite ones. 

We stayed, back then, sometime between Mum's first knee operation and her second one, at the Island Hotel where lobster was a nightly feature on the table d'hote menu and the whole place was a delight from start to finish. Ferried about by golf buggy (the Intrepid Granny) and me on foot for the most part, we explored this beautiful island with its stunning garden. https://www.tresco.co.uk/enjoying/abbey-garden

Now there is no hotel but many, many holiday cottages on this tiny dot in the ocean, everyone of them charming, incredibly well equipped and beautifully furnished. Our's, Raven Cottage, is no exception and we are a spit, literally, from the beach - and, as it turns out, a very nice eaterie! 

There is, to be clear, no budget element to this holiday. Everything you consume pretty much is being brought in on the ferry (apart from the veg which is grown in the Abbey Gardens, I believe) and prices are, to quote someone else who's been here, like Fortnum and Mason. Everything is owned (or rather leased from the Duchy of Cornwall) by the same family so whether you purchase from the little grocery shop or the gift shop at the Gardens or anywhere else, it costs the same. But it seems a small price to pay for everything this island offers. 

I could wax endlessly about the incredible views at every turn, the white glistening sand, the crystal clear waters and so on but that's only part of its charms. The birdlife here is so tame that eating a biscuit or sandwich whilst sitting outside attracts a gang of sparrows, a song thrush or blackbird and even, worst case scenario, a seagull. They eat from your hands, nest close by the back door with complete confidence and the rabbits have developed a level of cheek beyond that even at Crow House. I am starting to feel like Saint Francis of Assisi! And watching sparrows polish off sugar lumps from our al fresco coffee is so lovely/hilarious - it feels like Hitchcock's The Birds low-budget b-movie version!  Seals pop their heads up to look at us and disappear sleekly under the waves. Best of all, red squirrels are here in numbers, without fear of terrorism from the grey variety who are, in my view, just rats with good pr (sorry, picked that one up somewhere!). 

The first night pizza and wine takeaway was an eye-watering price, and the ice cream we had enjoyed earlier that day would have given our one-time-only ice cream purchase by the Trevi Fountain in Rome a run for its money price-wise. But swallow hard (and slowly!) and realise you're paying for what makes this island so special. 

In my memory the weather on this island is always good. The reality is that the weather ranges from foggy and damp to driving rain to brilliant sunshine with remarkable speed. But when the weather closes in, the helicopters cease to operate. And of course, the logistics of getting folks on and off the island on the various changeover days when the Scillonian (the ferry from the mainland) only runs once a day to St Mary's must call for some super-high levels of efficiency. 

Regular readers know that winter or summer, sun or moon up, I like to get up early and once I've gathered myself, take the dog for a walk. (Just to be clear, the dog is not here despite my having a pocket full of empty poo bags.) There are a plethora of paths and tracks to take along the quiet coastline, across something reminiscent of Bodmin Moor, past castles built by both sides of the English Civil War, cutting through walls of rhododendrons, waist-deep bracken and gorse (fell and am still picking the thorns out!) and with views of the sparkling sea visible almost everywhere. So early morning yomping sans chien is the order of the day for me, sometimes alone and sometimes - if other folks are up - in company. No worries about getting lost - the island is only 2.5 miles long! 

Apart from the friendly fauna and birdlife, the wildflowers here are present in epic numbers, not harassed by pesticides and farmers' understandable need to make the land profitable. And beyond the ragged robin, foxgloves, honeysuckle and other lovelies, there's a whole range of succulents that definitely wouldn't grow in Yorkshire - global warming or no. The Abbey Garden, of course, is at this time of year a riot of colours and scents. A year ago we were inadvertently driving the NC500 in Scotland and went to Inverewe Gardens on the West Coast. Striking similarities with brilliant and powerful giant plants staking their claim to light and soil. 

It would be so tempting to include here the stuff that made me cry with laughter and I can truly say I have laughed more this week than cumulatively in the last two years. Falling back into the easy friendship and humour of many years is something that better writers than me perhaps can pull off. I know that if I write it, I will only erase it when I edit. But my children - and the children of our friends if they happen to read this - may remember the levels of silliness we used to reach in Salcombe. And yes, children, nothing has changed! We sing loudly, tell the same jokes (with a few additions) and crack up at the priceless memories we have of each other and of you all. 

OK enough slush! Let's get on to stuff to do here! 

My morning yomp has taken me to amazing, deserted beaches and across both moor and wetland. The best beach, viewed early one morning was Apple Tree Bay - a stunning crescent of a beach which is actually overlooked by the heliport meaning that whilst we are beachcombing for shells, the helicopter rises like Apocalypse Now but without the Ride of the Valkyries playing as a soundtrack. 

Other yomps took in the wetland in the middle of the island prompting our wildlife expert to stop at regular intervals at some obscure birdsong or other. "Look, look," he'd stage-whisper as his wife and I search the surrounding greenery, reeds, trees and brambles, "it's the ...." something I've never heard of,  usually followed by me saying, "You're making up names again..." I'm fairly sure he wasn't but there were a lot of LBJs which is apparently twitcher-code for 'Little Brown Jobs' ie any unrecognisable small brown bird. 

We made two trips to Bryher, a neighbouring island just a few minutes (phew!) by boat from Tresco. The first was to the Crab Shack which turned out to be literally a shack in a field with a gazebo attached which comprised the kitchen. Scallops and crabs made up the entire menu which was not so good for my beloved who doesn't eat crab (almost the only thing he won't eat) so he had scallops, followed by scallops. I'd like to say it was the best crab ever but that would be bending the truth but we had an absolutely top time and the staff were wonderful. And the wine definitely flowed meaning that we were last on the boat back to Tresco. I did apologise for being late to the rest of the passengers, probably loudly and perhaps slurring my words just a touch. As my beloved usually says after any of my impromptu speeches - "Mercifully short." Mysteriously this was followed by visit to the New Inn for more beers and I was so happy to be walking rather than making a perilous way home on a bike. 

Short detour here... we hired bikes - 5 for the so-called 'fit folk' and an electric bike for the other one. At the time of writing I have one bruised and scraped knee and one cut calf now healing. Note to self: cycling is a dangerous sport though I also fell over twice out walking so perhaps it's me, not the bike! 

Our second trip to Bryher was by a smaller and noticeably more sober party the following day. The reason for our trip was to go the Island Fish shop for lobster for dinner, to see artist Richard Pierce's gallery and to have a walk round the island taking in Hell Bay. The Island Fish shop is not only excellent quality and well-priced (rare in these parts) but also staffed by a very handsome chap - just saying... Again stunning views at every turn (including in the fish shop!) and coffee outside at the Hell Bay Hotel was accompanied by many sparrows who sat on the table and ate the sugar lumps! Richard Pierce's paintings are so beautiful. Sadly I suspect they would look out of place in landlocked Burton Leonard but very tempted nonetheless. 

Our other adventure took us to St Martin's which is another of the 5 inhabited islands. St Martin's has a different, less touristy feel to it with incomers making way for cars and tractors. It also has a seriously top pub, the Seven Stones Inn where the lobster rolls were sublime. And an artisan jeweller, Fay Page who creates stunning pieces based on the local shells found on the beach.  I managed a third and best swim of the week from the beach here. There is a brief window, I have now discovered, between being absolutely nithered to the bone as you get in, with the added bonus of brain-freeze, and getting so cold you have to get out of the water before you develop hyperthermia. The brief window of joyously swimming in crystal clear waters really does make the arrival and departure pain worthwhile! 

Finally, I can't finish without mentioning our local - literally outside our front door on Tresco - the Ruin Beach Cafe. Delicious food, superb welcome, great service makes this a fabulous place for a treat. Hold your breath when the bill comes and remember that there are very few places in the UK where the view, the ambiance and the food is at this level. 

Our final treat was to go home on the helicopter. I had so wanted my beloved's first view of this island paradise to be from the air but sadly our journey outbound had to be the ferry. But it was a spectacular clear sunny day for our return (don't you just hate it when the weather promises to be perfect for the next lot of guests?) and the views as we bade farewell from the air were absolutely show-stopping! 

I know that you can get to most places in the world in the time that it took us to reach Tresco and possibly a stay at some pretty glitzy hotels would come in at a similar price but it is an incredibly beautiful place. Don't think it's just an extension of the Cornish coast - this is something else and definitely worth a place on your bucket list. 

https://www.thebeachguide.co.uk/south-west-england/isles-of-scilly/apletree-bay.htm

https://www.islandfish.co.uk

https://www.hellbay.co.uk/dining-with-us/crab-shack

https://www.tresco.co.uk/eating/new-inn

https://www.hellbay.co.uk

https://www.bryherartist.com

http://www.sevenstonesinn.com

https://www.faypage.co.uk

Tresco - Being Silly in the Scillies - part 1

When Covid waved its nasty little wand and sent us all to our homes like the bad fairy in Sleeping Beauty, much time was spent bucketlisting and planning for the day when someone - anyone please! - might release us. Plans made at that time had a dreamlike quality, a sense that they might - or might not - ever happen. 

One such plan was hatched involving ourselves and three couples - old and dear friends who used to holiday together in Salcombe every summer when our children were knee-high or barely anything more. Bigger plans had been offered up involving all four families, our combined 14 children, their spouses and children and so on. Totally unworkable and a logistical nightmare. Start again. So we booked a house on the beautiful Scilly Island of Tresco for just the eight of us and as I write, we are here and it is perfect. But back to the start of our journey when we, from North Yorkshire, had the furthest to come. 

We set off early Friday morning to begin our holiday with an overnighter in Bath staying with my oldest and most dear childhood chum, Alps. She's Alps and I'm Stigs. Don't ask! We always say we'll go to Bath and do a touristy thing or two but actually we hunker down and chat and it's so, so good for the soul. Up and off early the next morning with just over 200 miles to go down the M5. It was deliciously quiet southbound and bumper to bumper northbound, this being the end of the half term/Jubilee holiday. We try not to say out loud how quiet the roads are/how brilliant not to be in a queue/how well the journey is going etc because that ALWAYS ends in disaster. But I must own up to some moderate patting on the back that we weren't at an airport queueing for hours, but I did do it silently! 

We arrive in Penzance first and in time for a very nice crab lunch at a little cafe near the front. Then on hearing that two of the other couples (couple 4 not arriving till Monday) had just landed (not literally) at the heliport we joined them in the departure building.  Actually there's only one building, arriving or departing. There's rather a lot of folks in there already and definitely more than one helicopter-load. Hmmm? Greetings exchanged amid much laughter as it's a lot of years since we've all been together. Then one lot of passengers are ushed out to the helicopter and take off.... And ten minutes later they're back. Tresco is fog-bound! 

We wait, drink coffee, chat and hope for a window in the weather. But increasingly it's looking like no one is going anywhere - on or off the island. Ahead of the game, my beloved starts to look for places to stay nearby because the fifty or so people looking disconsolate in the waiting room are all going to need places once the nice feller from Penzance Helicopters gives us an update. By the time the inevitable happens we are already booked into a holiday cottage in St Erth that looks half decent and is only a few yards from what proves to be a rather nice pub. 

So night one of the holiday - or rather night two for us - is spent in a pretty cottage in St Erth and we feel lucky to have found somewhere to stay. By the time we've had a few wines and a nice supper it feels like a good result all round - except that the alternative transport brilliantly organised by Penzance Helicopters on Sunday is not a 15 minute flight but is a 2 hour plus ferry to St Mary's and then a smaller ferry onwards to Tresco via Bryher. Not being a good sailor I know that I will be staying on deck throughout, regardless of weather, which turned out to be damp and cold for the majority of the voyage. But as we pull into St Mary's the sun breaks through and having hopped on another, smaller boat, finally we arrive less than 24 hours after originally planned. 

To be continued...

https://www.corkandfork.uk

https://www.thestarsterth.com

https://penzancehelicopters.co.uk

Spotted these three teenagers on their phones on the ferry! 

Coming into St Mary's at last!