Crow House Barn Project - Hosting Virgins!

The other day, it popped up on my Facebook feed - I am a member of the Airbnb Hosts group - that a television company was looking for Airbnb hosts to take part in a television series. Hmmm...

Now that I wash, dry and iron copious amounts of Egyptian cotton bedlinen at least a couple of times a week, I do occasionally stand in front of daytime television with an iron in my hand. So the other day when all tennis was on television at anti-social times, this being the American hard-court swing, I watched Four in A Bed for the first time. I have been urged by my chums who find my new venture quite entertaining (well, they ask so I am assuming they are not just being polite) to sign up for this show which everyone else appears to have been watching for some time. Like Come Dine with Me which my beloved was asked to be in, I am absolutely not up for having folks poking about in my drawers, running their fingers along my skirtings and make comments about the state of my loo brush! So you will not be surprised to hear that I am not signing up for the new Airbnb programme although, let me assure you, my drawers are immaculate, my skirtings spotless and my loo brush in very excellent and hygienic condition!

On to an update of the life of a B and B host. Well, it's definitely different. We have lived on our own down this long, potholey lane, the far side of two cattle grids for 31 years. So far off the beaten track that we have only had one visit from the Jehovah's Witnesses who mistakenly thought that the lane would take them to Copgrove Hall and pots of loot! And now we share all this peace and quiet with other folks - and without exception, they have all been jolly nice!

Early lessons included not hanging out the washing in pyjamas (or less/worse) and not bellowing at the dog early in the morning - one of my children does a fine impression of me sounding like Margot Leadbetter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-5Lp8v2t5A hollering at the dog which is probably not conducive to having a lie in on your holiday!

Then, of course, there's the question of 'how chummy should you be?' Generally, I try to hold myself in check - not gushing, just very welcoming. These folks are here for a holiday and not to see us. However, both my beloved and the dog are enthusiastic meeters and greeters and we've had several offers to take the dog home after a stay. This became a very attractive option when she came into season a couple of weeks ago and turned into an absolute tart over night. The object of her lust is small, black and belongs to lovely Lisa and Wayne at the Post Office. Cue multiple phone calls from strangers who read my number on her dog tag and managed to trap her somewhere between us and the centre of the village. Happily, this has now passed and she is back to normal rather than waving her nether regions at every dog she meets and tormenting poor Milton who was with us for a weekend with her dance of the seven veils!

Interestingly, there is no standard Crow House Barn guest. We've had folks from far flung places - Brazil, Canada, Poland and Hong Kong. We've had folks here for romantic weekends, work, Yorkshire Show, horse racing, walking and, latterly, foraging. Strangely, no cyclists yet though when the World Road Championships hits our neck of the woods in September that may all change. Our youngest guest (who loved the rubber ducks in the bathroom!) was 2 and half and our oldest guests were in their seventies. My beloved has done some fabulous cooked breakfasts and we've directed plenty of folks to our local pub, The Royal Oak in Burton Leonard. Others have gone more upmarket with The Ivy in Harrogate but we've also provided Cook meals to microwave and there has been many a barbecue.

So it has changed our lives, and we think for the good. We learnt some surprising stuff about folks but overall, the best thing of all is how generally delightful people are. Of course, it hasn't all been plain sailing...

When we first set ourselves up online, we did as the hosting site suggested and offered 'flexible' cancellation. One of our first bookings was for a week in August - yay! a whole week! The guest in question rang just outside the 'if you cancel you have to pay part of the reservation' window and did just that. Cancelled. Apologetic but nevertheless a significant and substantial booking lost with no come back.

Of course, we were only on this 'flexible' cancellation policy for a couple of weeks before my guru in the Lake District put me right and now we are better protected, but the damage was done. However, we managed to rebook four of the seven nights and in the interim, i.e. now, we have installed a log burning stove. This involved dealing with five years of jackdaw nests in the chimney but our excellent installers did a great job and they were filthy when they'd finished but the Barn was not! So we will now be open through the winter with a gorgeous fire to snuggle round after a lovely long walk across the countryside - or back from the pub!

So we will be open right through the year and we hope that some of our lovely guests come back and see us again. Fountains Abbey, just four miles away, is stunning in autumn and winter.

Darcy keeping her beady eye on the Intrepid Granny! 

The new log burner in all its glory! 

Our beautiful climbing rose, Madame Alfred Carriere, blooming for the second time this summer

Neighbours! 

Every bathroom should have one ... or five! 

The Crow House Barn Project

First, a little history…

Thirty one years ago, we (which, at that time, was my beloved, our two-year old daughter and I) bought a 17th century gamekeeper’s cottage surrounded by fields with a goodly smattering of semi-derelict outbuildings. Skip on a few years and there were six of us - my beloved and I and four children - plus dogs and cats and rabbits - and our cottage was bursting at the seams. Time to convert one of the outbuildings which could serve as a teenage dormitory.

The Barn was roofless and derelict but it had been a great place for dens and the trampoline for our children. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful building and somewhere (though we’ve never found it) there is a date stone which confirms its 17th century construction. It appears in an ancient book about the history of this area which is full of gems about the ruins of a flax mill just across the fields and the paths taken by local monks to St Mongah’s Well near the stream at the bottom of our field. 

So fifteen years ago we converted the Barn into a brilliant two-bedroom annexe for our older children with a stunning bathroom and big downstairs place for parties and play. 

Fast forward a few years and the children were all away pursuing careers somewhere that didn't involve living at home. The big bedrooms upstairs in the Barn were still full of the stuff the children didn’t need in their new adult lives. Downstairs was an office for my beloved and a dumping ground…for our stuff, for stuff belonging to any relatives who have moved (“Can you just look after this for now?”) never to be retrieved, and stuff belonging to family members who were no longer with us in any sense. 

And then, number 1 daughter (the one-time two year old who moved here with us thirty-one years ago) announced that she and her husband would like to have their forthcoming baby in God’s Own Country, rather than London. And they wanted to live in our Barn - as a proper home. 

So twelve months ago, a lot of the heavy lifting was done by number one (great with child, of course) and her husband and the barn became a habitable place and first home to my gorgeous grandson. And then after eight months, they moved out…

So, at last, my long-held ambition to turn the Barn into a bed and breakfast place could become a reality. But, like innocents abroad, we genuinely had no idea how hard it would be to get from ‘nice place for family to stay when they visit’ to a luxury somewhere with that real ‘wow’ factor. 

We started in earnest in February with floor sanding and varnishing. Floor sanding is not for the faint-hearted and with every floor - upstairs and down - needing the full treatment, and, not being in the first flush of youth, our joints took as much of a pounding as the floor! And in the course of the last few months, we have discovered that we can actually do all sorts of DIY projects ourselves - replace windows, fix pipes and even plaster ceilings - who knew! 

We’ve had lots of help and encouragement from family and friends and we appreciate that more than we can say. And friends who have come round and been asked to look with a critical eye, yes, we have taken your comments on board - very useful indeed! 

Our aim, right from the off, was to create a space that really does exceed expectation. We’ve stayed in enough hotels, bed and breakfasts and rental properties to have very high standards. Long ago, when we used to take our young family to Devon each summer, the aim was always to stay somewhere at least as nice as home. We didn’t often succeed, and, when we didn’t, there was always that disappointing sense of ‘it’ll do’. We hope to do better than that. 

So over the last four months, every bit of the barn has been painstakingly sanded, varnished, painted, plumbed, wired, glazed, washed, scrubbed, cleaned and dusted. We've got wi-fi, flat-screen tellies and sound systems. We've invested in an egg boiler which we've so enjoyed playing with in our own kitchen that we may have to buy another! The Egyptian cotton bedding nearly broke the bank and all sorts of 'small stuff' has been added to our endless list of 'to do' and 'to purchase'. And most of all, we try to look at everything thing from an outsider’s perspective. We hope we’ve succeeded. It turns out it is a lot harder than it looks to create something really good. 

We live in a beautiful place that has been a lovely home for our four children to grow up in. Now we’re ready to share. Please come! 

FOR INFORMATION: We're on Airbnb (put Burton Leonard into the search box). Or message me on Facebook or text 0793 036 3711 if you'd like to book direct. There's a website under construction and we'll be on Facebook and Instagram in due course. Phew! 

The Capital of the Rainbow Nation

I hate January! If this sunshine deprivation thing is real then I definitely have it! Whatever it is, the January blues get me nearly every year and this has undoubtedly been made worse by my longing to be in Melbourne at the Australian Open - because I've been and I know how marvellous it is. 

So my beloved, despite being beleaguered at work, booked for me and Number 4 to fly to Cape Town. Wow! I had expected him to book a winter sun cheapie but with airline points and accommodation from the lower/middle of the scale, we are off to the capital of the rainbow nation for a week. 

As we board, weaving our way between the flat beds of business class, Number 4 asks if on really long haul flights like to Australia and New Zealand everyone gets one of those. She looks very disappointed when I inform her that is not the case! But we're fine where we are and we snooze in peace on and off through the flight happily not accompanied by the Sheffield Wednesday fans who sang tunelessly but very loudly on our tube journey to Heathrow. 

All is good through customs at Cape Town and we're met by the transfer arranged from home. It's not far from the airport to Sea Point but it takes a good hour though the morning rush hour traffic. Our home for the week is the Hyde Hotel on London Road, a spit from the coast road it is exactly what is required. Big sitting room with kitchen area, bedroom and bathroom, plus rooftop pool area. Of course it's still only mid-morning and our rooms aren't ready so we shower and change in the changing room in the dessert-spoon sized gym area (we won't be bothering with that for the rest of the holiday, methinks) and head out to walk along the coast road boulevard. Watching the Atlantic waves crash against the rocks below makes me want to pinch myself. We're really here. 

Walk done, ice cream consumed and we can get into our rooms and therefore on to the sun deck where we have several badly-needed naps. I am covered in sun cream and constantly checking my child (I know, she's a grown up) and therefore do what the intrepid granny would call 'an auntie Gill' - ie fail to top up my sun cream and burn in various places whilst the child turns a gorgeous brown. Ho hum...

Our first night dinner is at a local eaterie in Sea Point, just a couple of streets away from the hotel and we sit outside watching the world go by and eating huge portions of tapas (note to self: even tapas comes in big sizes here - do not over order). Cape Town, we are ready to explore! 

Our plan for our first whole day is Table Mountain so the queen of Uber (mum, this is too difficult for you) rustles up some wheels and after a rapid breakfast, we are heading up towards the cable car station. Lovely uber driver drops us off and we check visibility at the peak. Zero. Big clouds. So kicking plan b into operation we hop on to the hop on, hop off bus and head back down the mountain. 

I love these buses, not least because my beloved was sooo reluctant to ever go on one ("I used to work for a coach travel company - why would I want to get on a bus?") and is now a complete convert. So this is the best way to see lots and make the most of the best bits and ... so that the commentary syncs with your actual location, they play appropriate music in between. Ha! An opportunity for me to listen to Toto's Africa which is one of my Desert Island Discs, just in case anyone is interested. And because we finish up going round the bus route one and a half times, we hear it twice - yay! 

Down the mountain to Camps Bay and we hop off for a coffee and to look for one of my beloved's all time favourite restaurants. When we came here 23 years ago - yes, number 4, you've been here before but you were 'inside' ie not born - I was mostly sick and lying down but I did make it to Blues in Camps Bay once, whilst my beloved went multiple times to eat divine seafood and gaze at the brilliant blue ocean. 

We walk along the front which is now super-developed and bustling and ...there is no Blues. Further investigation with a friendly waiter and Stanley (I'll explain about Stanley later) and it appears that a wealthy gent bought the whole block and got rid of all the competition by upping the rent. Blues is now a Hard Rock Cafe - shame. 

So we hop back on the bus and, accompanied by Toto, arrive at the V and A Waterfront. What a stunning development! We explore old warehouses filled with groovy market stalls and pop-up restaurants, we watch the boats ...and the people, listen to a steel band and talk to the basking seals who smell, well, fishy. Like Milton after he's eaten something inappropriate. 

A snack of pulled pork - yum - and we hop back on the bus and once we've hopped off for a quick explore of the centre of Cape Town we are back on the bus and heading for the cable car station at Table Mountain - again! 

We are in luck! The visibility from the top is now officially good and we take the lift to the cable car. Packed almost like sardines we race super-fast to the top with amazing views all the way up. I don't think I had any concept of how far you can stroll when you get to the top but every view is breath-taking and this is a must-see. 

Our HOHO bus delivers us back to our hotel and we turn ourselves around for a dinner back at the waterfront (which we get to still using our HOHO bus ticket - great value). What a lot we've packed into our first day proper! 

The only thing I booked back in Blighty before we set off was our trip to Robben Island so this morning is another early start as we are on the 9.00am ferry. I'm not a great sailor and we have to sit inside - again not a good option for me - but I had purchased sea sickness bands and they seem to work though number 4 says it's all in the mind! 

Once off the ferry, we are herded on to buses for a tour of the island. This takes 45 minutes but I can sum it up briefly as the following:

It was a lonesome place to live if you were a guard.

Hard labour in the quarries looked barbaric.

And once you were here, you weren't going anywhere. 

Also people come here to get married in the little church - weird!  Apparently this is because a life sentence genuinely meant a life sentence! Not sure my beloved and I would want to renew our vows here! 

The other piece of information which particularly stuck with me was how the political prisoners taught each other as the degrees of education of each individual varied so much from university professors to barely literate. 'Each one, teach one.' 

The tour of the prison is, of course, the highlight. We are escorted around the prison by a one-time political prisoner, Derek who was arrested aged 18 (on my 30th birthday, strangely enough) and spent part of his 5 year sentence here. The political prisoners were quite separate from the ordinary convicts and given that this prison was operational well into the '90s, the conditions were incredibly basic with segregation by race extending to how much food each prisoner was allowed. Native Africans getting less than other races. 

Derek takes us to the yard in Section D where Nelson Mandela was allowed a scant hour of exercise per day and then we walk past his cell. You can't fail to be moved by his extraordinary courage for he spent 18 years here in this tiny room thinking about how to change South Africa for the good and writing The Long Walk to Freedom. The rainbow nation we see on the streets of Cape Town is his vision. We see no evidence of bitterness between races and everywhere we go we are met with smiling faces.

We grab a quick lunch at the Waterfront which is both delicious and disastrous with the caramel sauce in my chicken wrap exploding unhelpfully into my hat (not on my head at this point, just saying) but happily once back at base it washes out. Quite attached to the hat as I bought it in Porto on an intrepid granny holiday. 

We have chosen one of Susan and Degsy's recommendations for dinner - the Chef's Warehouse and Canteen. Number 4,the  Ubermeister, gets us there and as we get out of the taxi we hear a shout: "Hey Caroline!" and it's friends and neighbours from our little village, Nick and Janeen! Thousands of miles away from home and we bump into them unplanned! We enjoy a great tapas dinner with them and their friends, Stanley and Patricia who both work in the restaurant trade in Cape Town. Patricia works at La Colombe and is surprised that we haven't heard of it. Back at base, I google it and it's just been voted the 6th best restaurant in the world - sorry Patricia! 

The next morning, Number 4 declares this a lying around day and we catch some rays from the sun deck until it gets too windy. Then we uber off to Camps Bay where, if we had thought it windy on the roof of our hotel, it's blowing a hoolie on the beach here. So we sit in one of the restaurants that isn't Blues and eat pizza looking at the best beach view in the world. Half an hour on the beach and we have been completely exfoliated by the sand and our hair is literally full of it. 

Number 4 has now taken control of not just the uber (still too difficult for me apparently) but also our restaurant choice. And she nails it with the Black Sheep which is quirky, friendly and the food is fabulous. It's also a great place to people-watch. Top marks and we book to come back on Saturday. 

The next morning is forecast to be even windier so though we start on the sundeck we have to retreat when our parasol is blown over, nearly taking my phone and my feet out in the process. Then fuelled up with a pizza which has way too much garlic on it, we trot down to the bus stop to get the other HOHO bus. While we wait for the right one to arrive, two American girls kindly give us their day tickets as they are heading to the airport. Result - free transportation! No Toto on this bus but it takes us through slow traffic to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens which are absolutely stunning - don't miss the treetop walk. We could have spent the day here but it's way too hot, and besides Number 4 needs scones...and butter...and jam...and cream. No wonder she's such a fatty! 

Our evening date is dinner at Millers Thumb with dear friends, Degsy and Susan and Susan's mum Pauline. The menu here is simple: choose a fish or meat, choose how you'd like it cooked and what sauce you'd like - simples! Great food, wonderful company and lots of giggles. Love you guys! 

Today's main event is a visit to the Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock (humming the tune but this is a different Woodstock!). As soon as we get within a quarter of a mile, the place is buzzing with make-shift car parks popping up everywhere and the traffic reduced to a crawl. Inside the gates there are a million stalls selling amazing street food, drinks, clothes, crafts, art and everything else you can think of. Various jazz bands play and the vibe is brilliant. It's obviously not just a tourist destination- it's a Saturday morning magnet for the local hipster generation. 

Nap time in the afternoon because we're out early to watch the Six Nations in a bar kindly sourced by Nick and Janeen. Seemingly at the same time last year, Six Nations spectators were few and far between in the Firemen's Arms but not so tonight. It's rammed! We are lucky to get a place at the bar with Nick and Janeen and pints of Stella and Guinness are the order of the day. Wow! What a match! It may not be Landsdowne Road but it's probably the next best place to watch the match. 

Dinner which we make by the skin of our teeth is back at the Black Sheep and we tuck into kudu and rabbit with a main course switcheroo half way through. We manage a pudding ...and more Spider Pig rose and then we're seriously stuffed.

Our last full day and we wake up to rain. Proper showers are forecast till lunchtime so we take a trip to the Springbok Experience where there is some very cute baby gear for a certain young man! Then we test our fitness and reaction speeds for the Boks team. I am completely rubbish at the reactions test but I've been picked for the Boks bench based on fitness which is not bad for my last day of being 62! The Experience itself is very much about not just the history of rugby in South Africa but how it helped to break down boundaries in the apartheid years. Very moving and some great pictures of Brian Habana, Francois Pienaar etc. 

Back at base we laze away the afternoon before setting out to Camps Bay for supper with our Salcombe friends John and Caroline and their chums. Lovely to catch up even if we had to travel half way across the world to do it! Suddenly it feels like our holiday is nearly at an end all too soon. 

Birthday! My first in nearly 40 years without my beloved. But a relaxing morning by the pool watching the paragliders sail down from Table Mountain over our heads and a late lunch go some way to making up for it! Starting out journey home now and 20 hours of travel for me. Let's hope it's a smooth trip - note to self: don't arrive at Heathrow in February in flip flops! 

What a happy, happy holiday with Number 4 and we have taken Cape Town to our hearts. We'll be back! 

Key facts: 

Best view: the top of Table Mountain, of course!

Favourite uber driver's name: Prosper though Admire comes close - can I change my children's names at this late stage? 

Best food: The Black Sheep with The Chef's Warehouse and Canteen coming a close second

Worst food: British Airways (I'm taking M&S sandwiches next time) though the garlic pizza we ate at the hotel proved to have repercussions! 

Best place to see the sunset: Camps Bay - though it's not the quietest! 

Best pub to watch rugby: The Fireman's Arms

Carry on up the Danube!

"What do you want to do for your 90th birthday, mum?" was the question I asked the Intrepid Granny back in the summer. The answer I was not expecting was "I don't want to be in the UK - the rest is up to you." 

So that was the brief and given that the Intrepid Granny's birthday falls two weeks before Christmas with all the nailed-down, inked-in Christmas events already in place, there was only a relatively small window in which to fit a proper jolly. We enlisted two companions: my friend Mrs Broccoli and her mum, the Mighty Nin, not least because the Intrepid Granny and the Mighty Nin enjoy playing bridge and Mrs Broccoli and I can get up to all sorts of mischief together. And our holiday choice? A river cruise up the Danube from Vienna to Nuremberg. 

So we set off at stupid o'clock in the morning on the eve of the Intrepid Granny's birthday to fly from Leeds Bradford to Amsterdam. Before we have even left the ground the captain informs us that the flight will be delayed due to high winds at Amsterdam so an hour and forty five minutes to transfer suddenly turns into a thirty five minute dash across the full length of Schiphol Airport which we manage - just - but unfortunately our luggage doesn't. 

So by the time we and half a dozen other people have reported our luggage missing at Vienna Airport, our chauffeur has given us up for lost and we have to get a taxi to the ship. Ok, we know the ship is on the Danube but without the berth number we could have been up and down the quay for hours. Luckily we find the ship, the AmaSonata and are quickly reimbursed for our taxi and making the most of our gin and tonics hoping our luggage will arrive ...soon. 

By supper time, we are still in the clothes we'd put on at 2.00am and have been provided with an emergency pack each. This consists of a large white t-shirt, a pair of tights and a gigantic pair of white knickers (no exaggeration, they would have fitted Giant Haystacks!).  Although we are tempted to don the lot (probably over our clothes) immediately, we are eating at the haute cuisine Chef's Table Restaurant on our first night so hmmm ...perhaps not appropriate. Part way through dinner, our cruise manager comes with the glad tidings that our luggage has arrived - hurray! 

Our fellow passengers are largely American with a few Puerto Ricans, Filipinos and Chinese. Surprisingly it turns out we are the only Brits. No worries, we can punch above our weight after all. 

After the delicious haute cuisine at the Chef's Table Restaurant on our first night we are up with the lark and happy to be wearing our own clothes on the 90th birthday morning. Mrs Broccoli and I start the day with a stretching/Pilates class with the very bendy Tiago. A gang of 12 start the class on the first morning and as I start to write (day 6) we're down to seven (by the end of the cruise it's just Mrs Brocolli and me!) but our charming instructor keeps us on our toes - literally! - and I suspect I may be a fraction bendier by the end of the holiday. In the meantime, the resulting aches are moving round my body on a daily basis from neck and shoulders to knees but all in a good cause. And I can definitely eat more with a clear conscience! 

So if you're going to have a 90th birthday, a ship moored on the Danube in Vienna seems like a pretty good place to start. "I don't want a fuss..." Too late... I've been a busy elf and have got surprises and stuff planned all day, starting with cards and presents at the breakfast table and most of the waiting staff wishing and kissing my mother happy birthday. Then it's out into a chilly but beautiful Vienna for our guided tour, followed cake and hot chocolate. Now I can't resist a carriage ride in a stunning city, so off we go clopping around the cobbled streets in style. 

Continuing the equine theme, we have organised a tour of the Spanish Riding School and the Lipizzaner stallions are so beautiful though it is forbidden to either photograph or touch them. Then it's back to the ship to discover champagne and flowers from Spear Travels - thank you Peter and Libby - for mum's birthday. Down in the dining room there's a good deal more kissing and congratulations from fellow guests followed by cake and singing. Now the average nonagenarian might have thrown in the towel after dinner but not the Intrepid Granny. Upstairs in the lounge there's music and dancing and more partying. So that's a birthday well and truly done. Massive thanks to Nick and the team on the AmaSonata for making it one to remember. 

We sail through the night with quite a few stops and starts which become familiar on our night time sailings because there are 26 locks on this trip and it turns out to be quite difficult to sleep through a lock! Up bright and early for more bending and stretching with Tiago (more muscles are making their presence felt) and today's first destination is Durnstein. 

Because we walked miles yesterday, we take the easy train ride up to the village for a wander around the shops and cobbled streets to the winery. Our wine tasting is led by the polished and knowledgeable Steve who hailed from Burton on Trent - of course!  

In the afternoon we sail to Melk where the skyline is dominated by the spectacular baroque yellow abbey which looks down on the town and the Danube below. We berth here, explore the abbey and spend the evening listening to a stunning string trio. 

One of the cities I particularly want to visit is Salzburg. Not on the Danube but only a coach ride away and memories of visiting there when I was fifteen or sixteen are still vivid. On the way to Salzburg we stop at a tiny village where the wedding in The Sound of Music was filmed. Walking through the crisp snow to the church, it feels absolutely and completely Austrian and utterly magical. 

Back on the bus and it's a short hop to Salzburg and the snow is still falling. Our guide takes us from the bus and across the bridge of locks to the spectacular and charming old town. Tiny narrow streets beautifully decorated await us and as we walk we can hum songs to ourselves  from Mozart or The Sound Of Music depending on cultural preferences. I'm a bit low brow actually. 

The Mighty Nin has a finely tuned radar for finding fabulous lunch and coffee places and soup and gluhwein is generally the order of the day. Salzburg is a long day but what a beautiful place - not as elegant as Vienna but it will continue to hold a place in all our hearts. 

Back on the ship, we catch up with our new friends, Patrick and Marlis and Steve and Laura. They kindly take us under their wing and Patrick and Steve play their chivalrous roles looking after six ladies to perfection. We can only manage a glass of wine or two after dinner - it turns out that having a jolly good time is exhausting! 

We sail in the night to Passau which turns out to be a beautiful city where three  rivers meet and our guide is an entertaining student from one of the universities. Passau was badly damaged by floods in 2013 and up to that point relations between students and the resident population had been strained but the students put their shoulders to the wheel and helped the locals clean up the city and now relations are much improved. After the guided tour we find yet another fantastic coffee and cake shop which turned out to be a finalist in the Deutschland Coffee shop Awards which just proves what an excellent nose Nin has for these things. 

We sail in the afternoon and so we get our heads down to learning to play bridge - lesson 1. Various crew members look in to watch the tutorial and we discover our barman, Peter, is the ship's poker champion so we definitely won't be inviting him to play! 

We pause proceedings to enjoy an invitation to the wheelhouse where the captain, Marcel, rules the waves and his bluff sense of humour belies a steely will and his staff certainly jump to his orders. Luckily for us, he has been waiting none too patiently for the lock ahead to clear and whilst we are there, the lights change and he shoehorns the ship into the lock and we watch the gradually-released water raise the ship. Similar to parking a 4x4 in a very small car parking space only rather harder - don't try this at home! Then it's back to the other sort of bridge...

Our evening entertainment is Christmas carols from the crew which turns out to be a lot more entertaining than the Von Trapp family singers of a few nights before. The AmaSonata choir are surprisingly polished and sing in English which is impressive when you know that they are largely from Romania, Bulgaria, Slovenia and, in the case of our very bendy fitness instructor, Portugal. "I have to learn Red Rudolph Reindeer," he says. They obviously don't have that one in Portuguese! To give you some idea of the bendiness of Tiago, imagine the Chinese acrobats in Oceans 11! 

An additional attraction is the arrival of Santa Claus. There are only a couple of small children but once they've sat on his knee, the nonagenarian is at it again. Shameless use of age privileges, in my book! However she is then desperate- no exaggeration- to know who is playing Santa. Her methodology for discovering is to give every crew member a cuddle to find one who fits the mould! 

We wake up in Regensburg, arriving at about 5.00am and unexpectedly this turns out to be our last port of call... But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Regensburg is beautiful, Roman, and incredibly cold. Our guide, Melanie, is funny and informative but spends too much time making us wait on icy street corners in sub-zero conditions while she tells us its fascinating history. The Intrepid Granny has wisely bailed on this morning's tour and she's waiting smugly and warmly on the ship when we get back. It's too cold to contemplate going out again but tonight 's entertainment more than makes up for it.

During the day we receive an invitation. Would we like to dine at the Captain's table? Firstly, what Captain's table? There hasn't been one all trip. Second, the Intrepid Granny and I can't accept invitations which don't include our companions but they have also received one - hurray! We enjoy the Captain's cocktail party with our American pals and applaud the tremendous staff of the ship who have looked after us so well. Then we four are asked to wait behind in the library for drinks - just us - with the Captain, Marcel and Nick, the cruise manager. Everyone else has gone down to dinner and when the restaurant maitre d' calls us down to the restaurant, everyone else is already in their seats. On the arm of the Captain walking through the restaurant packed with guests, I think the Intrepid Granny is going to burst with excitement. 

Yes, we are the only guests having the Captain's table that week and yes, it is the Intrepid Granny's fame and the small matter of having a ninetieth on board that has clinched the deal. Marcel and Nick are charming companions and we are made to feel very special. 

The main news of the night, however, is that the ship will sail no further upstream. Although we could easily get to Nuremberg on the Danube, because the river levels are dropping so rapidly, the ship would not make it back down and this cruise has two more weeks to run. Our terrific cruise manager explains the situation and puts alternative plans in place. Those who want to can travel by bus to Nuremberg the following day and have an all-day tour, whilst those of us who would like more time in beautiful Regensburg can stay on the boat. We opt for the latter. 

So our unplanned day starts with more bendy bits with Tiago and while the Intrepid Granny is having her hair done, Mrs Broccoli and I do a power walk with Tiago. Then, grannies gathered, we head out into the chilly air for an afternoon walk. Regensburg is charming and we can remember enough of the previous day's tour to give the Intrepid Granny an overview of the city's  charms. Oh, and there may have been gluhwein... and cake! 

It's our last evening with our new chums from the States and we have a lovely evening, dining together and then having one or two ... or more... drinks in the lounge. Oh and the grannies did a spontaneous pitch - or rather, galley - invasion as they were desperate to see behind the scenes in the kitchen. And then, the grannies are up on the dance floor again and they are having a ball! 

All too soon it's our final morning and we must say goodbye to our new friends and with our bags packed and ready to go by 8.15am we set off by coach to Nuremberg. We say farewell to Nick who has been a magnificent cruise manager and leave our bags at the Meridien before heading into the centre of Nuremberg and its famous Christmas markets. The city is busting with Christmas shoppers and a strong police presence as there has been a stabbing the night before. But when we can't find a cafe for lunch/gluhwein, the Intrepid Granny decides to approach a policeman. Of course, as luck would have it, the policeman also works for the tourist board and is more than happy to take us along the busy streets to a restaurant slightly off the beaten track. We would never have found it on our own. More gluhwein (because we are now connoisseurs) and the atmosphere is amazing with every table in this huge restaurant absolutely packed. 

We make our way back to the Meridien and our driver arrives to take us to Nuremberg Airport for our 8.25pm flight which will get us back into Leeds just before 10.00pm via Amsterdam. We are met by the AmaWaterways rep who stays for a brief chat and then we wait for our gate to open.... except Amsterdam is fog-bound and suddenly we are delayed by 24 hours. The KLM staff "I'm good but I'm not God" gets us on the same flight 24 hours later and we are booked into the airport Movenpick Hotel. So now we need a plan for an extra day...

Because we had opted for an extra day in Regensburg rather than come to Nuremberg on the coach, we take the opportunity to visit the Nuremberg Courthouse, scene of the War Trials in 1945 and 1946. The exhibition is absolutely fascinating and doing this as two generations - our mothers who lived through the Second World War and ourselves who have studied this period at school - makes for a extraordinary range of perspectives. We see history through different eyes. And the Mighty Nin's father was here during the Trials working as an investigator so we are even more moved by the history as it unfolds through pictures, newsreels and text. The disappointment of not being able to fly home on time is quickly erased.

Fabulous Turkish pastries in a little cafe nearby give us time to reflect on what we have seen and we decide to visit Nuremberg Imperial Castle before we make our way back to the airport. The steep cobbled streets make it hard walking for the grannies but the views from the top are stunning. 

Back at the airport with our bags, we discover that although we have a boarding pass each covering both flights - Nuremberg to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Leeds Bradford - these are void and we now only have the flight to Amsterdam and we are on standby from there to Leeds. My cage is seriously rattled and it doesn't seem to matter who we talk to at Nuremberg, no one will guarantee our seats for our last leg. Throughout the flight to Amsterdam, I feel sick with anxiety that we won't get our mothers home. 

Thankfully, the KLM desk at Schiphol is super-efficient and we have seats to Leeds. Phew! 

A brilliant trip, full of fun and comedy. The AmaWaterways team on the AmaSonata gave us a truly extraordinary week and one which the four of us will never forget. Very highly recommended.