Off to Cannock Chase! (Staffordshire)

A very exciting moment! We get to mountain bike after all this time! We are off to Cannock chase in Staffordshire where there is a free bike testing this weekend! We're both so excited to be getting back on the mtbs again - will post pics of us getting up to bikely fun when we get back!

Cymru am byth

We had originally booked a couple of days in South Wales because of a mountain bike testing day being held. To our dismay it was cancelled due to a fortnight of snow and rain. Only mildly gutted about the lost opportunity to do some mountain biking, we decided some serious hiking was in order to quench our outdoors thirst (conveniently ignoring the fact that we didn’t have snow shoes).

They say boredom is relative to expectation

First stop was Cardiff, on a comfortable express train that made me green as it tipped sideways at the corners. After reading the damning report in the Lonely Planet we had very low expectations indeed. And as it turned out, we loved it. 

Cardiff was gorgeous, lively, full of lovely people with singsong accents. Our B&B was run by a gay couple and so was immaculately and beautifully presented, with the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in and the best vegetarian breakfast we’ve had yet.

We strolled out into the crisp evening to find some dinner and before we could even hit the centre we chanced upon a vegetarian restaurant, run by an incredibly friendly Indian man who was happy enough to let us bring in grog as long as he didn’t have to touch it (ie they gave us a bottle opener to use).

Castles and haystacks

Just about chomping at the bit to get outdoors, we picked up a car and headed straight to the Brecon Beacons National Park, one of the largest and wildest parks in Wales. We couldn’t resist the opportunity to do a little historical sightseeing on the way, so we stopped by Caerphilly castle. Built in 1268-1271 by the Anglo-Norman lord, Gilbert de Clare, it is the second largest castle in the United Kingdom (after Windsor). 

Gilbert 'the Red' de Clare, a powerful Norman nobleman built it as a response to a dispute between him and the Prince of Gwynedd, Llywelyn the Last. Towards the end of the 14th century it went into decline after much of the castle was abandoned as a major fortress.We were entertained during our picnic lunch by a highschool rendition of Oliver in the town square, complete with elaborate costumes and ….Finally we made it to the visitor centre at the Brecon Beacons.

It was still getting dark around 16.30 so we joined the hordes of dog walking and tobogganing families in pottering around the immediate area. The snow was beautiful and the area of the park no less magnificent for less than remote. We even managed to watch the sunset over the white hills as we stomped our way through the snow.

Peaks and bogs

We were determined to get a bit further out today so we took an early breakfast, swaddled ourselves in various layers and waterproof fabrics, and headed for the imposing peak of Pen y Fan. Formerly known as Cadair Arthur (Arthur's Seat) Pen y Fan is the highest peak in South Wales. Getting there proved to be less straightforward than we expected. Our way was blocked by a lone walker who had gotten stuck trying to reverse back down the road, which he had decided the car was not going to make.

Our repeated attempts at pushing, heaving, and digging came to nothing at all. We left him there helplessly and reversed back down the road, only to get our own tiny rental toy stuck as we were trying to park. Our saviours arrived in army fatigues in a big truck, with a pack of dogs for company. 

They dug us out and gritted our wheels in about 30 seconds, and we were out, just like that. They then went up and dug out the lone walker, taking another 30 seconds or so to accomplish the deed. They then roared up the hill in their truck without a moment’s pause or any sign of hesitation from the truck. Amazing.

So off we went, chirpy as ever, Sean playing with the dogs for as long as he could. The snow was deep and the mountains high. Although there was a couple of other walkers there (to our surprise given the weather) it still felt remote and wild. Fortunately our walking guide had already warned us that Pen y Fan is also known as The Deceiver, or we may have been heavily disappointed each time we came to the top of a false summit and saw the mountain continue to stretch ahead of us... 

We rolled all the way back down in the snow and bundled back into the toy, thankfully had no more boggings and no troubles getting back on the road and bumped our way back to Cardiff. It was pouring with rain when we arrived, so we resigned ourselves to a warming beer and a welsh meal before heading to the train station for our stomach-wrenching express home.

Update from London

Our epic blog from the festive season is still under construction but I thougth I would take a quick minute to put up a couple of things from the last month. 

One of the highlights was a visit to Salisbury and Stonehenge. We took the train out with our bikes, and stayed in the great hostel in Salisbury which is in a huge old house. 

As my good friend Malin reminded me, this is what Eddie Izzard had to say about Stonehenge - 

"And we had the Druids! Long white robes, long white beards, early transvestites, didn't get their shaving together; and they built Stonehenge, one of the biggest henges in the world. No one's built a henge like that ever since. No one knows what the fuck a henge is! ... But they built Stonehenge, and it's built in an area called Salisbury Plain in the South of England. The area of Salisbury Plain where they built it is very ( eerie chanting ), ‘cause that's good, you know. It's a mystical thing; build it in a mystical area. 

You don't want to build it in an area that's (singing upbeat jazzy tune). No, there you build Trump Tower. But yeah, so they built it there. And the stones! The stones are 50 foot high, 30 foot long, 20 foot deep, and other measurements as well! And they’re not from ‘round there, that's the amazing thing! Remember, this is B.C.. This was before the B.C./A.D. changeover,when everyone was going, “Is it A.D. yet?”. ... So, yeah, the stones are from 200 miles away,in Wales, so these guys in Wales were obviously carving the rocks out of the very living mountain... 

"Fantastic, building a henge, are we? That's a fantastic idea! That's a marvelous religion the Druids have got! Yes, got a lot of white clothing, I like that. There we go!" And they smashed out a huge stone and then they put tree trunks down to roll it along on."

Disappointed to have arrived too late on Saturday night to visit Stonehenge in the evening, we bundled into bed and set our alarms for a pre-dawn start. And what a magnificent morning it was. Perfectly clear and crisp (temps somewhere below zero), with just a few clouds scuttling past the bright full moon, we rode along the rolling hills of Wiltshire in complete quite - the world felt utterly still. When we arrived at stonehenge the moon was just fading and the sunrise was making a magnificent display of pinks and purples on the horizon. It felt like a show put on just for us. Unfortunately we didn't get many legible photos, it was a tad freezing and dark and they are all completely blurry. 

We returned to the hostel for a hearty breaky of stale (cold) croissants and cold baked beans, and headed off to see the famous sights of Salisbury. Salisbury began as an iron age fort 2500 years ago. It was fought over by the Saxons and Celts in 552, and then completely abandoned, logically. Still, the area resettled and came under William the Conqueror's eye, who built a wooden castle. 

It was subsequently a very succesful town in the middle ages and it is now home to one of the finest medieval cathedrals in Britain, which may or may not also have the tallest spire. It is quite lovely. It also houses one of the remaining copies of the Magna Carta, I think by a historical quirk and for no good reason that we could find.

Amusingly, London came to a standstill on Monday when London had its heaviest snowfall in some 15 odd years (every paper gives a different number but it is quite awhile). Many people didn't go to work at all, the schools closed and 90% of public transport shut down. Luckily Sean and I had our trusty bikes, so I was one of 3 who turned up to work out of 7. (Sean was one of 3 as well but I'm not sure about his usual numbers).

Since we were so proud, I put together a picture journey of our ride to work - http://picasaweb.google.com/pritajobling/LondonSnow?authkey=U7Ar_HE1LGw&feat=directlink

Due to the snow we both got an early mark from work, perfect way to finish a great day.

Northern exposure - Christmas in the festively frozen Helsinki

There is nothing quite like the crisp stillness of a morning in Helsinki, or the sound of ice sheets clinking against each other in the harbour as we ran past, or the sight of Stockholm archipelago with shimmering water, boats everywhere and stately houses. There is nothing like the quiet reflectiveness of the north.

We arrived in Helsinki later than hoped, but a short taxi and there were Annabel and Jaakko waiting for us - they took us into our beautiful warm apartment, converted from a factory, all stylish lines and ikea furniture and gave us glögi, the warm drink of spirits/juice/spices and whole almonds and currants that you drink and scoop out the almonds and spices, festive and warming.

Finnish Glögi
1/2 litre black currant juice
1 bottle red wine
1 stick of cinnamon
6-12 cloves
1 dl vodka (or koskenkorva)
Raisins
Blanched almonds

Mix the red wine in with juice and the spices. Heat, but do not let boil. Turn off the heat and add the vodka. Put some raisins and almonds in each cup and pour in the still hot Glögi.

Christmas eve dawned bright and clear - we went for a lovely jog around the island that Annabel and Jaakko live on. In the afternoon, at dusk (about 3pm) we met up and walked to the cemetery, where hundreds of people converged - in the dusk candles glimmered everywhere on the graves, marking a loved one. It was beautiful and moving. We saw many graves of famous Finns, with many candles, and a monument to those killed in war with many candles on it. We walked up a short hill to where a massive cross was surrounded by people and prayers and hymns were sung, incomprehensible and solemn. Then we found Jaakko's grandmother's grave and he lit a candle and placed it there. It was one of the most beautiful and moving sights I have seen.

Christmas day and we woke in the dark, and piled on our warm clothes and went for a run past the bays and cemetery, all quiet in the still morning. Then we hauled presents and food over to Annabel and Jaakko's place and had a wonderful day talking to family, relaxing, eating delicious Finnish food, drinking Glögi and watching the Hollowmen, a lovely bit of Australia. 

Annabel and Jaakko had made us the most beautiful gingerbread house - very traditional apart from the kangaroo on the front lawn!! Best of all we got to sit in front of a roaring fire, on the TV! complete with a burning log scented candle. Christmas Day had all the usual necessities - great food, lovely drink, fantastic company, with the added scenic benefits that come with the winter christmas. We took a post lunch walk down to the bay and around some of the island.

 It was beautiful in its winter starkness. It felt still and quiet, even though the path was bubbling with joggers, walkers, strollers and dogs. When we eventually rolled back across to our little apartment we were brimming with full stomachs and good cheer and contentment.
The highlight of the trip for Sean came on Boxing day when he got a boys trip to the Sauna, followed by an obligatory post-sauna trip to the pub.

This authentic Finnish experience was followed by a less authentic but fun Aussie night. We all went to see Baz's Australia and then finished off the evening in the Aussie Bar (which likes to boast that we are all descended from convicted sheep theives). Despite my policy of generally avoiding Australian alcohol overseas (gotta try the local stuff you know) we were delighted to have our first Coopers Ale since leaving home. There's nothing quite like its bottle-brewed goodness.

The rest of our magnificent time in Helsinki was taking in the Finish vibe in galleries, beautiful streetscapes and sculpture, and a great Finnish restaurant, and frozen picnic lunches eaten outdoors with frozen fingers.

And then came the sad morning that we had to leave - Annabel and Jaakko took us off to the ferry terminal for a trip to the Estonian medieval city Tallin.

Tallin was fantastic. Beautiful, charming, and lively but without crushing crowds of tourists. Jaakko accompanied us, his last trip had been before the breakdown of the Soviet Union. We pottered around the gorgeous town, visiting ancient churches and buildings, including the incredible Russian Orthodox church that looms over the town and positively sparkles when the sunlight reflects off the gold mosaics and paints. A highlight was having lunch in a medieval restuarants, that serves only food and drink that was available in medieval times (including honey ale), on crockery that was available at the time, and decorated with medieval sheilds and tapestries and swords. It sounds so tacky, but it was actually great. The ale was fantastic and novel, mine was a cinnamon ale and Jaakko's a strange herby one that was very interesting. The vegetarian selection was surprisingly good too, and surprisingly varied. The menu even suggested we could pay in rabbit skins, but I didn't try this one as I had left my rabbit skins in left luggage. We went with the very medieval eftpos machine instead.

We said sad goodbyes to Jaakko, and then it was onto another ferry, this one much larger, and bound for Stockholm. We settled into our little berth as the ferry moved slowly out into the night ...

Where the streets have no name - Derry and Belfast - NI part 2

We stayed in a gorgeous B&B in Derry with the essentials - homely twee bed spreads, a slightly eccentric host and a lovely German couple. By night and in the morning we explored Derry - a walled city that still seems to hold on dearly to it's siege history - the walls ringed with cannon, tales of the locking out of Catholic troops. On the drive back to Belfast we took the inland route and snow lay on all the hills and fields. When we got to Belfast we decided to walk up Cavehill - a large outcrop that looms over the city. The walk was beautiful, passing Belfast castle, then neolithic caves which had been carved into the side of the hill (hence the name) and stood on the summit in the icy wind and watched as a whole troop of people came past us playing a sort of chaotic golf with mallets over the mountain along a path of flags - we were almost hit by the hard flying balls a few times and were not surprised when at the end of the host of players there were five first aiders along!!

We descended a different way and got lost, finding ourselves separated from where we wanted to be by a large chasm - it was just like a rogaine! We worked our way around and eventually back to the car. Then down to Belfast proper - we ate our lunch in the botanic gardens and

explored - we had hoped to go to the museum but it was all boarded up, no signs, just very closed. We made our way to our hotel, an od converted large house, with an odd old chap who

argued with us over the price that had been agreed but then seemed happy enough, the house was all musty rugs and creaking staircases. We dropped our bags and jumped into the black cab

waiting for us, this was one of the black cab tours of the murals. Our cabbie, Conor, was close about whether he was one side or the other, but told awful stories of violence on both sides, of

the celebration of murderers by both sides in their mural, and his view that Catholics had killed more of their own over the years than protestants, and vice versa. It was incredibly moving and stark to hear the tales, see the murals, have the bullet holes and still abandoned buildings pointed out to us. We saw the monstrous peace wall, and then, it being dark, had to find a gate still open in the wall. How surreal then to drive back into the centre of Belfast and find shoppers exploring all the big name stores, and a Christmas market and ferris wheel in full swing at the town hall - scenes of peaceful opulence that contrasted sharply with what we had just seen. We thanked our guide - it felt that perhaps it would open raw wounds to keep telling people these stories but what he told us, anyway, was that he felt telling people about it was a way to make sure it didn't keep happening - there were complexities that we didn't pick up on, or hear of, but the profound sense that all sides were caught in a perpetuating cycle (dating back hundreds of years to the 'red hand of Ulster') was intensely felt in his quiet talking.

We explored the market, drinking red wine and browsing, and then set off in search of dinner, not finding much as, a lesson we should have learned in Derry, the Irish eat early, really early. As Prita joked, Spanish and Irish meal times were a perfect match - as the Spanish sat down to lunch, the Irish could sit down to dinner ...

But we stumbled on a wonder instead, the Crown Liquor Saloon, which has the honour of being one of only two pubs owned by the National Trust - and you can see why - an ornate, stunning interior, each surface decorated, with pews and lecterns more fit for a high church, and on top of that fine Guiness and ales and other stouts by the pint - what could be finer!

We had a few and then headed for dinner, sleep and our early return to London.

More photos of the trip can be found here

Stansted to Giant's Causeway - NI part 1

Last weekend we flew from Stansted to Belfast. 

I love the anticipation of travel. We woke in the dark (actually that's not that surprising at the moment), piled on all our warm layers until we looked like bundled up paddington bears (mostly because it was freezing outside but also so we could fit everything else in our hand luggage) and made our way by tube and then overground train to the airport. Ryanair was a new experience for me - you have to queue up to get on the plan as there is no assigned seating. Actually I think Londoners really like to stand in queues - they queue for a bus, at sandwich shops, everywhere!

The flight was good, short and we could see sworls and valleys and peaks of cloud, with the Mourne mountains, the southern boundary of Northern Ireland, poking above them. We landed and jumped into our little Renault, after chatting with the kind car rental man with his sing song accent and finding about a thousand coloured brochures for what to do in NI, with the walks being top of our list. We motored past Belfast and to the coast, stopping to admire Norman castles and celtic crosses at

 Carrickfergus, and treat ourselves to tea and scones - served with butter instead of cream but oh the butter! And then on, past breakers, sea cliffs with the clouds pouring over the sides like waterfalls, sudden squalls and then to the glens. At Waterfoot we turned inland to explore them, where the glens all pile into each other in a mess of valleys and peaks which someone called 'switzerland in miniature'. We stopped at the deserted Glenariff forest park, stretched 

our legs and ate the last of our soda bread and strong Irish cheese with English mustard, and walked a short cicuit through the park. Sheep grazed and in the distance an impressive escarpment. We followed the path down into the glen, the sound of rushing water and then several beautiful waterfalls, the largest of them called the mane's tail, and everywhere dripping water from the ferns, cold and still apart from the rushing waters, we walked along the banks.

The trees were sparse but the undergrowth and ferns glowed with the mist and the afternoon sun. The hibernating woods were lovely, a sense of the green giant slumbering until spring.

We hopped back in the car, jealously going past the trail runners who had run circuits of the park, and got back onto the coast road. Unfortunately, as navigator, I had somewhat underestimated what time it gets dark over here in winter, and it was a close run thing to get to the Giant's Causeway - but we made it in the end - s

leeting and near dusk, we walked down off the cliffs to the mass of surf, waves breaking on a rocky coast, and then we were on the causeway itself, incredible hexagonal columns, marching towards the sea at differing heights, with islands out in the raging surf, a strange regular geometric world - it is easy to see how people thought this was built by the Giant Fionn mac Cumhaill. 

We explored until dark really had set in. On the way back to the visitors centre we cruched along the icy ground - we wanted the loos but discovered they were out of order - the pipes had frozen solid. We did find warmth and whiskey (Bushmills old) and toilets just down the road in the lovely friendly lit up Causeway Inn. We stayed for a few and then headed towards Derry.

Note the photos have been updated!!

Dear everyone,

Talk of quiet achievers. Thanks to Prita, there is now, catalogued and even with comments, a selection of photos from our honeymoon! They are split into the different areas we travelled to and are located down on the right side of the Blog.

I loved looking at them again and remembering a) what a wonderful, amazing, special time it was, and b) that sunshine does exist ...

First snow in London

Hello everyone

I'm working! Which is great. What's even greater is that we got paid yesterday, that's sort of up there with indescribably great.

But what I really wanted to write about was getting snowed on.

I had gone out (the one night I was glad I took the tube not bike) and met my friend Adrian, we had had a lovely relaxed drink and chat with him and I and his girlfriend Delia at the cafe in the National Gallery. Then we moved on to a fish and chip shop in Covent Gardens.

After our Cod (I refrained from telling them the Cod joke) and chips, we were chatting and I fancifully thought that the rain looked like it was floating - but then it really WAS! And suddenly it was snowing! It floated down all soft and silent, mostly melting on the ground but some remained. We walked to the tube station and on the way i started to resemble a giant snowman, my hair and jacket covered in white. Then I discovered I had a hole in my shoe. Cold. Really cold, and then into the subway and thankful for the first time that it is always stinking hot in the tubes.

I thawed,and getting out at Finsbury Park was just like getting onto the set of those last scenes of Bridget Jones (somehow become a cultural touchstone), the snow lay on the ground and footprints crisscrossed it. It was still snowing as I got on the bus and sat upstairs and watched it fall softly against the windows, rubbing the condensation out of the way so I could watch it all. It was enchanted and I knew it was because i saw something I hadn't seen yet - Londoners were smiling!

When I got home Prita was outside taking photos dressed in a big jacket. We hugged as we stood amongst the still falling snow.

Antipodeans in London

Hello everyone

Well, what a great few weeks - we've moved to a house in Haringey, or Crouch End - it's a bit difficult to work out exactly what's a borough, suburb, etc ...

Our house has seven people in it! (including us). It's a huge Georgian house, with two bathrooms and another toilet, and a gorgeous private yard that has a couple of playful squirrels in it.

It feels just a little like living in an episode of friends, with a variety of interesting characters wandering in and out of the living areas at all times, though our actor is a great deal smarter than Joey. We are almost never in at the same time, in fact in a month being here we have only had a single night of a full house, so it doesn't feel as crowded as we were expecting.

We have the large first storey room with three windows with stained glass, a large Monet print on the wall and a red couch that clashes horribly with the print. But it's lovely.

It was in this room that I had my birthday breakfast - beautiful fluffy pancakes with poached pears and an orange sauce and maple syrup - it reminded me of the blintzes at Babka's in Brunswick St, but more of all these flavours swirling round, and I opened my beautiful cards. Unfortunately Prita had to go off to work so I relaxed all day, sitting in our room and reading my birthday present to myself, another in the series of Master and Commander.

Although a tweency bit further from the city than we would like, the area is magnificent. We are on the highest part in north London, there are only two hills on this side of the river, so it isn't actually that high, but it means that we have cleaner crisper air than in the city, and when we go out jogging in the morning we are treated to the spectacular display of the city lit up by the sunrise. Despite being cheap to rent, the burough itself is quite posh and the streets are lovely and picturesque.

The best bit about the area is the plethora of parks around, including an ancient woods that dates back to Roman Britain and an old rail trail path - it is completely private and significantly raised above the road level so it is quiet and bushy and not so hard to believe we're running through the wilderness (even though it is only 5 or so meters wide).

Despite being a little poverty stricken we have been doing our best to do something a little 'London' each week. We have been to lots of museums, lots of parks, and even a couple of theatre shows (of which I especially enjoyed Spamalot, not that the name really made any sense). Last week we went out to Hampstead Heath, one of London's largest and most magnificent parks. A good idea as it turns out, as it was the last sun we have seen. And even Peter came out to play with the Wolf.

Museum of wonders

Today I went for an interview with yet another recruitment firm (a necessary evil? We shall see) and then met Prita. We wandered to the British Museum. The gates are immense and as you walk through them you are confronted by a vast Romanesque temple, massive columns along a long arcaded front. Entering I looked up to see the ceiling painted with harmonious patterns. Inside the great hall all is light, the internal courtyard has been covered over with a vast glass roof which seemed to me like palm leaves stretching from the central tower. All around the open space stood statues and other treasures, and people wandered between them. The sense of being both inside and outside was strong and very pleasant. We wandered into the ancient Egyptian area, massive statues of pharaohs and other greats looked down on us and we talked of the poem of Ozymandias (?), and then Prita showed me a large but rough peice of granite, which it turns out is a fragment, a fragment! Of the beard which used to hang from the Sphinx. This tiny fragment was apparently not the original even, but a piece of an early restoration, something like 1000 years BC! Time seemed immense.

Then we came to the Assyrian section. Two winged bulls with the heads and beards of Assyrian kings stood guard, and we walked between them to the massive gate of the palace, restored using only the copper bands which had bound the door. It stood 17 metres above us, richly inlaid with bronze. Turning we made our way into a gallery with scenes of Assyrian life, 1000 BC and so complex, castes and professions and order and rules. Each tablet was bas relif but also held rich inscriptions in cuneiform, perhaps Accadian(?), the text, it seemed to me, flowed across the figures, how amazing it would be to be able to read the script and decipher their thoughts and actions!

We then popped in to see the Elgin marbles. I was happy to see that as we walked in past doors designed to keep the humidity constant that they were at least looking after them! As we walked in a woman gruffly shouted directions to her companions across the hall in Greek. She sounded kind of angry and we wondered if seeing them there made her grumpy. They are amazing and the scale f what is there is incredible – the details striking and I look forward to seeing them again. I couldn’t help but be awed at what is there and what remained in Athens (very little!).

After that we walked through London towards the National Library (British Library?), and noticed how the streets of rich houses all offices now gave way to a grungier look as we approached Kings cross – and then we turned the corner and were both stunned again by the gothic imperial splendour of the Kings Cross Station, all spires and pointy turrets reaching for the heavens.