While I was away

What’s this?

This is a recap. A montage, maybe. A compendium. Also some getting back on the horse, but a practice horse before I torture the metaphor further with a real horse later in the week.

Eh?

Oh. That wasn’t a good answer to the question. OK, here’s what this is: a place for me to write a small amount about many of the trips I’ve been on over the past 4 or so years, that never made it to the blog because post-pandemic I sort of got back into travelling but almost completely fell off the writing. UNTIL NOW. And how… as should probably be expected for almost 5 years of missing trips, this is a bit long. Mostly photos, really, until I get to the Faroe Islands. Probably should’ve done that as a separate entry but in the fine words of OneRepublic, it’s too late to apologise.

2022

The pandemic was still real, and we were still mostly avoiding people and the indoors. We’d been to the New Forest earlier in the year, which helped us get over the cabin fever - although having moved house in 2021, being “stuck” in the new place wasn’t exactly a chore.

Kent

In May we went to Kent. Exciting, huh? This was my Christmas 2021 present to Helen, we got an AirBnB (private, no people, spent lots of time outside) and went to visit two places full of, like, plants and flowers and stuff. Y’know, Helen-y stuff.

But! We also went to places that weren’t gardens! Like <checks pics> Camber Sands, Rye and Dungeness. In the latter there was a quite special pub, and a nearby nuclear power station which people were fleeing†.

† finishing work for the day and driving away from it. But still 4 years on I think it was fleeing.

Also I found a brewery because of course I did.

RANDOM NORMANTON INTERLUDE

We had a bit of a weird trip, not exactly a holiday, up to Leeds via Oxford and Stamford and a drive to Normanton Castle, which I’d forgotten until just now. We drove loads of it, but also got some trains which scared us even fully masked up.

Hooray for COVID!

3 weeks after getting back from Leeds/Stamford/Oxford, we got COVID! Yay! I mean it wasn’t super-yayworthy at the time, but not dying was brilliant. The world opened up to us and we booked, like, flights and stuff. I wrote about (some of) our debut trip to Jersey, and then (some of) Dubrovnik later in the year.

2023

2023 started with ice skating and a health kick. And Spain!

Cordoba

Flew to Malaga, stayed one night, then got a train to Cordoba. It was January, it was hot, it was fucking brilliant. Lots of outdoors stuff and food and flamenco dancers and stuff. Oh, the AMAZING mosque-cathedral. Go look it up.

At one point a roving flamenco band caused traffic chaos, then dragged the driver of a beeping car out and made him dance with them and a nearby restaurant’s chef. It was brilliant. I have no photos of this event.

Australia

Booked this pretty much as soon as I got over COVID. I wanted to go down under to see Kevin and me nieces, who’d all moved house 60 miles south of Sydney.

Flew to Shellharbour and stayed in south NSW for a week. Finished off with a spectacularly pretty but oh dear me far far far too hilly parkrun. Did a bunch of stuff before it, like old planes and civil engineering tourism. And a brewery because of course I did.

Jersey

Loved Jersey so much in 2022 we went straight back. Had considerably more awesome weather, too. Sunshine and stuff. We like to stay in St Brelade’s Bay but the whole island is small enough to visit, especially when you hire a car like we did. I might have had a Michelin starred scotch egg. It was definitely a fancy gourmet one.

Alfriston

In summer we went to Alfriston in Sussex. The weather was fucking awful. The trip started with some truly terrible food close to home, but the food in Alfriston was out of this world. We did eventually have some nice weather and horses. And a brewery because of course there was.

Norton St Phillip (and Bath and Wells and Frome)

Malmö

Helen’s Christmas 2019 present to me was a trip to either Malmö or Copenhagen. I chose Malmö. The world shut down so we never went. I ended up going, by myself, in October 2023. Perhaps predictably, I went to parkrun and a brewery. By now the 2023 health kick had really had a positive effect and I almost got a PB. I was also very glad to get the Equity For Punks discount on scandi prices. Honestly, being solo, this trip was pretty much entirely walking, running, and drinking. And it were brilliant.

Milford and Lymington

In November we went to the Hampshire coast. Helen had a day doing pottery. I started that day doing parkrun in horrific conditions, and then walked to a brewery. We stayed above a pub. It was dry the next day, but, I mean, it was still November. Don’t trust Uber in Lymington, it doesn’t turn up. Use the local cab office. Seriously.

York

Finally in 2023, we went to York. It was a visit to Helen’s family in Leeds, but we decided to stay in York because York’s all nice and stuff.

It was about -6ºc the whole time. Absolutely brassic. I am vehemently against gloves under virtually all circumstances. On this trip I bought some gloves. 2km into parkrun I legit thought about dropping out and asking a marshal for some assistance, I felt so rough in the freezing fog. But just as I was about to, suddenly my nose unfroze and I could breathe properly. Ended up getting one of my ten fastest times ever (I was in good shape). The sweat on my face froze instantly upon stopping.

Also we went to the railway museum. Summat to do innit.

2024

2024 was a big year. I turned 50. Helen won a gold medal and best in category at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show, the first amateur designer to ever do so. I went to Toronto and Niagara Falls in April, the only thing I already wrote up and the last thing I blogged until this thing you’re reading right now.

Malta

But first - and I mean, like, properly first, in the first week of January - we went to Malta. The Christmas markets were still on, fer chrissakes. We arrived in apocalyptically torrential rain, mercifully it was clear and sunny on the full days we were there. Windy, though; we’d wanted to do a couple of boat trips, but all boats (all boats) were cancelled. So we did the next best thing: bus trips. Genuinely, these were great. Saw some catacombs and a hailstorm in a garden and had a posh lunch and saw cats. I felt ill, but that was probably just a bit of COVID. Flippancy might have set in.

We left on the day the massive cruise ship turned up. It was shit when that happened anyway. The lounge at Malta airport was superb, though. Free champers and an outdoor terrace where Helen could vape and I could watch planes. More of this sort of thing, please.

Alkmaar

Cheese. And a parkrun beginning with O. Managed to fit this in before Chelsea, this was Helen’s 2023 xmas present to me.

It was Easter weekend. We flew out on the Thursday evening. Schiphol was awful. Friday, being good Friday, was good. The cheese market opens for the year with a whole load of tradition. We got a very low boat under some very low bridges. It was all very Dutch.

I CAME FIRST AT PARKRUN. There were more volunteers than runners, about 8 vs 6. But I CAME FIRST. You can only beat who turns up on the day. It was (and remains, at the time of writing) my all time PB as well, as it goes, 23:42. I am so unbelievably proud of this, I legit count it as one of the best things I’ve done in my life. I won a run! Me!

Oosterhout parkrun results, March 30th 2024

Those results look better if you visit using Chrome with the 5kViz extension installed, btw. Well, I mean, not those results because there’s not many stats you can grab from a field of 6. But anyway. Install 5kViz! Tell your friends!

We also did other stuff on this holiday. Predictably enough, we went to a brewery. And a big outdoor museum of rural Dutch life, which was fantastic.

Jersey. Yes, again.

With Chelsea over - and that was 2 years of stress and hard work - we decamped to Jersey again. It had become our quick and easy bolt hole happy place. We love the hotel in St Brelade, we love the island, we love having a balcony directly over the sea. Didn’t get up to much except, well, I did parkrun (of course) and we wandered around some coastal paths we’d not previously seen.

Also potatoes and a big slap up Sunday roast.

Kos

Greece is the word. We had a week in Kos. It involved lots of cats, lots of leathery German tourists, lots of cheese, and a midnight band playing jazzy covers of Iron Maiden. Oh and some, like, history and stuff. There was a magnificent craft beer venue whose owner absolutely did not sell us his homemade illegal moonshine, no sir.

There was no parkrun. Did manage to catch AFC Wimbledon away at Newcastle on the TV though, a fixture moved because our pitch developed a massive sinkhole during a storm. Oops.

Seattle

Y’know what, I can’t really remember why I went to Seattle. Not in an “at all” sense, but more why I went in November 2024. I guess I had a BA voucher to spend. I had always wanted to go to Seattle though, a tiny bit salty about never getting the chance when I worked for Amazon and seemingly everyone else got to go. Anyway. Guess what’s in Seattle? Parkrun and breweries. And my friend Andrei, who had a birthday while I was there! Also: torrential rain, but that was only when I arrived, and on the morning when my half marathon training plan said I needed to run a load of intervals and shit. Bah.

2025

Weird year. Not a great one. Cancelled more holidays than were taken. The ones I did go on were great though.

Nice

Was meant to be me and Helen, but ended up being solo. So it involved a lot more public transport than it otherwise might have. Got upgraded in the hotel to a suite with a big balcony overlooking the med which, y’know, was nice.

No parkrun here. France, innit. Tons of runners though and I did take my kit. There’s a big fuck-off promenade that basically goes from the airport to the other side of town. Spent the first day walking a lot, then went to <drum roll> a brewery. Second day I went to Menton, then Ventimiglia across the Italian border, then Monte Carlo. Menton is spectacular and I loved it. Ventimiglia is pretty horrible. Monte Carlo was mostly a building site, as they were erecting all the stands and stuff for the Grand Prix - which was still something like 6 weeks away!

Had a great time, but really, Helen should’ve been there. Oh well.

Jersey (yes, again again)

Saltburn (and Whitby and stuff)

Helen spent aaaaaaages picking a 2024 Christmas present holiday for me, and this was it. The Yorkshire coast, which even in July she promised me would be bleak and miserable and we wouldn’t see the sun. So of course we had stunning weather. Not every day, but we did have plenty of sunshine. Tons of folk parked up in their camper vans on the cliff. Good food, ranging from a life-shortening parm on night one to a life-shortening selection of other stuff at the market on Sunday, with some famous Whitby fish and chips in between. Also an incredibly tough parkrun course, and a brewery. Because of course there was.

I actually don’t have tons of photos from this trip, ‘cos I was mostly taking short videos which I’d decided work great on the ‘gram. But I can’t put videos in here (yet?) so you’ll have to make do with this lot.

One pic worth shouting about on its own, IMO, is this most picturesque town I think I’ve ever seen in the UK. Looks like something off the Amalfi coast; is in fact a fishing village near a huge mining facility that stretches 20 miles out under the north sea, 2 or so miles below ground. They also do space science there. No, really. We went past it on the bus.

Faroe Islands (and Iceland)

I only bloody went to the Faroe Islands didn’t I. Flew to Copenhagen, stayed in Malmö, went to Brewdog, then flew to the bloody Faroe Islands. The Faroe Islands!

I barely knew anything about the Faroe Islands until watching some videos by my favourite travel YouTuber, Steve Marsh. I was totally blown away by his trips there and became instantly obsessed with visiting the place. So I did! Midweek, and a bit out of “season”, hence having the fly this roundabout route. The weather was a bit bleak and drizzly when I arrived, but my two full days were almost entirely sunny - not something that tends to happen in September.

On my first full day I needed to get a bus at, I dunno, was it 7am? Maybe 8am. Early, anyway, though I had time for a short exploration of some stuff I’d missed the day before. I was going to Klaksvik, about 90 minutes and 4 islands away. Best bus journey of my life.

From Klaksvik I got the ferry to … what was the name of the island again … Kalsoy I think. And then the bus to Trøllanes, almost the northernmost point of the whole Faroes. There’s a spectacular (because everything is) walk up a big hill to possibly the most stunning views I’ve seen in my life. And I’ve been to the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls. What a place.

It was SO windy though. Like 40mph winds pretty much constantly, with (obv) higher gusts. Bit annoying, but hey, I’ll take the wind for views like these. Down the bottom, next to where the bus drops off and picks up, there’s a small gift shop and, err, Thai restaurant. In fact the hiking fee had to be paid contactless to a Thai woman who rushed out with the payment terminal when the bus pitched up. Some dissonance there, but it turns out there’s a reasonably sized Thai diaspora in the Faroes.

The bus back to the ferry doesn’t go to the ferry. It has a lunch break. So I had some time to kill in Mikladalur and, who’d’ve guessed it, it’s insanely beautiful.

Got the ferry back to Klaksvik, the bus back to Torshavn, and went to Mikkeller again. Amazing, amazing day. one of the best.

My hotel was doing one of those “squalor bonus” things, y’know, where if you’re green and don’t want your room cleaning or towels changing then they reward you. So I had a free beer. Woohoo! Next morning was exactly the same as the previous one, same bus to Klaksvik, except this time a German pensioner was quizzing me about hills. No ferry today though. Today I would be ascending Klakkur, which overlooks Klaksvik. According to various timetables and walking guides I expected to be hiking up and down until after lunch; in the end I was back waiting for a bus to Torshavn by 11am. Klakkur was great though.

Being far, far earlier than anticipated had thrown my plans a little awry. The buses are reliable and the timetables accurate, but they aren’t what you’d call frequent. In fact, many buses require you to phone a number 2hrs before (or the previous day, for morning services) to say you want to catch it. If no-one calls, they don’t bother running it. The bus to Torshavn wasn’t for ages, so I had to improvise. Can’t remember the numbers or names en route, but I got a bus to somewhere, where it terminated. I needed to change onto another bus. Got confused about nobody getting off, and it turned out that I just needed to immediately get back on because the “terminating” thing was “oh, it just changes number here and carries on to Torshavn”. I mean, OK, fine. Lost my seat though didn’t I. This bus took me through the world’s currently only undersea roundabout. No pics, but it’s amazing: https://visitfaroeislands.com/en/plan-your-stay/getting-around/world-first-under-sea-roundabout

Got changed in my squalor pit then headed out for an unexpectedly free afternoon in the capital. Sadly, hundreds or maybe even thousands of others were doing the same because a cruise ship had turned up. Bollocks. Avoided most of them first by getting one of the free “city” buses to the outskirts where I thought there might be a brewery. There was, but it was shut. Walked back into the city and had a beer in the flat roof murder Irish pub. Then took over half an hour to get served at the one-person fish & chip shop courtesy of cruise ship wankers. But once their curfew came in, I was able to spend my last evening in the by now familiar refuge of Mikkeller.

Sadly only two full days in the Faroes. I was already, and still am a year later, desperate to return. Bus to the airport was on time, airport was efficient, bar was surprisingly well stocked. And unlike on arrival, there were cracking views because the weather was playing ball.

Arrival in my next location, however, was a different kettle of fish. I was coming back via Iceland. In Keflavik it was raining, in Reykjavik it was pissing down.

I finished the night in a rock pub where there was a band on. A local decided I looked like I wanted conversation, which I really fucking didn’t. We bought rounds of shots and he complained a lot about basically everything. I was fucking hammered. I had to be on a bus at like 5.30am or something stupid, for my 9am flight back to Blighty. I did not enjoy that morning. Oh also, there was a museum I didn’t visit.

The Hague

I’ll keep this one a LOT shorter than the Faroes. Me and several others (two Mikes, Charlotte, and Owen) went to the Hague to do a parkrun that began with Z. By so doing, two of us (me and a Mike) completed our first parkrun alphabet.

You know, you can track alphabet completion in 5kViz. Give it a try! We all also drank an absolute shitload. Narrowly avoided getting caught up in the pro/anti-abortion rally clash, by getting boozy pancakes. Did some culture at the what’s-his-face museum. Escher? Yeah, Escher. On Sunday some of us went to the seaside, which was fun. Too many chips were eaten.

When I got home from this weekend, I had COVID. No-one else did. I didn’t test positive, but I felt fucking rancid and the symptoms closely matched the variant that had just started taking hold in the UK.

2026

Almost over now, almost over now.

Singapore

Similar to the Malmö trip, this one was a thing I’d booked to do in April 2020 only for the pandemic to ruin things. Fast forward 6 years and in March 2026 I took myself for a weekend away in Singapore, pretty much solely to do parkrun. I mean, also to do some long haul business class flying too, but mostly to do parkrun. I even took notes for this trip, thinking I was going to blog it, Only the first day though, in fact not even the first full day but I was writing notes about my journey to the airport and experience there etc… and it was a fucking shitshow. My plane took off 3hrs late and I, along with 40+ other people, got downgraded from business to premium economy. Bit of bunker mentality meant pleasant conversation was had with the lass sitting next to me, neither of us having actually expected or wanted to sit next to anyone in the first place.

I will say this though: premium economy meal was surprisingly nice. But Heathrow had been such a miserable nightmare in various ways I was in no mood to write about any of it then, and I don’t really want to relive it here. So let’s fast forward to actual Singapore. First full day, Friday. Got up at 5am and went for a walk to the national botanical gardens. Went back to the hotel for enormous buffet breakfast, then fucked off down to touristville via the metro and all its VAPING LITERALLY KILLS YOU public service posters.

Tourism basically meant “go find that hotel that looks like a boat, sort of, y’know, that one from the final of the first series of Race Across The World”. And so I did, taking photos of it from various angles. Was a nice wander around gardens by the bay, and also reconnaissance for parkrun the following day. Sort of.

And then I went for beer.

That, honestly, was pretty much it for Singapore day 1. It was hot, because it’s always hot. I’d been up since very early, and I’d done a LOT of steps. I had beer in 2 or 3 places down near the CBD, then another place near the hotel, then another couple in the hotel. But I had to be up early again the next morning, because the parkrun I was doing was a fair distance away from the hotel, and in Singapore they start at 0730 because it’s too bloody hot otherwise.

Never sweat so much in my life as during that run. Crazy stuff. I had been polite though, and taken a rucksack with me containing baby wipes, a towel and a change of shirt so that I didn’t completely stink out the metro back. Had breakfast then sent a message to the co-landlord of my favourite pub in Godalming, because he happened to be in Singapore that weekend also. Then I put the TV on and fell asleep. Later that day I headed back towards the CBD and met the aforementioned co-landlord, who showed me yet more great places to get beer in the vicinty. After he left to go to a prior engagement, I bought some takeouts and went back to the hotel for a kip, so I could wake up at something like 1am to watch AFC Wimbledon lose to whoever we lost to that day.

And then look what happened. Sunday turned up! So it was time to leave Singapore, but not before a morning wandering around the old fort and then down to Haji lane.

And then flying to … Hong Kong, of course. This meant I at least got to see Singapore’s terminal 4, which is basically a separate airport. And a very fucking cool one at that.

At Hong Kong I literally didn’t go outdoors. There’s an airport hotel, landside but connected by a big walkway. Got my room, went to the bar in the basement, got chatting so some English expats who bought me spirits. Woke up the next morning feeling rough, at 4.45am because my flight was at 8am and I had multiple lounges to try. Can’t remember what the first one was, Wing or Pier, but it was a bit shit. Then I went to the Amex lounge which was really shit, and then the only Cathay lounge I’d never been in before, the Bridge. It was awesome. I was so annoyed I had to board my flight home. A flight about which I basically remember nothing, since I spent most of it asleep. Mealtimes were odd, service was lacking, and Chow Yun-Fat’s disguises are terrible.

A week after getting back from this Singapore/Hong Kong, I was made redundant.

Valencia

Gardening leave is a thing. I legally wasn’t allowed to work for anyone in May, except if the employer who’d made me redundant and told me to bugger off on 24th April had decided that they needed something from me. My laptop had already been wiped though, so, eh. Anyway, me and Helen went to Valencia! They invented paella nearby.

We wandered around the city and paid extortionate fees for withdrawing Euros. Damn it. We saw historic markets, and we went out to the nature reserve and got a private boat tour around the lagoon. It wasn’t meant to be private, just no-one else turned up. Superb. Valencia is noisy and chaotic and apparently I took barely any photos at all, which is a shame. We got a tram to the seaside, a supposedly old fishing village that in reality was just a nondescript suburb of Valencia. But further along suddenly we found life, bars, hotels, and somewhere to sit right on the edge of the beach and be fed cocktails, beer, and sausage. So much sausage.

Next to us was a Burger King, where all the youths were going. We stayed put until we didn’t. Back at the hotel, we were the only people at the bar and the pint glasses came straight out of a freezer. They were painful to hold, so cold were they. In the main food market I had the greatest tortilla of my life to date, and Helen got ripped off buying cured meat. On our way to the airport on our final morning we stopped in the more old school market and had a traditional drink the name of which I can no longer recall, and I’m not diligent enough to go look it up now. Some kind of local milkshake or something. It was alright. Probably not worth mentioning come to think of it.

Vienna

A week or so after we got back from Valencia, I fucked off on my own to Vienna. I was still on gardening leave, but with considerable good fortune had already sorted out another job. I wanted to go somewhere specifically from Heathrow T3 because of the lounge crawl potential, and Vienna seemed as good a place as any. The Amex lounge in T3 is phenomenal, btw, though not great if you like natural light. I can do basementy dungeony chic so it was perfect for me. Anyway. Vienna. Crikey what an upmarket city that is. Architecture everywhere. Not great for buying cheap hats for large heads though, as I found out to my cost, wasting a couple of hours on my first morning to make up for having lost my damn hat in Heathrow. I despise being hatless.

Hat mission semi-accomplished, here’s what Vienna day 1 involved: a LOT of walking, then beer, then more walking, then beer and sausage. They have this amazing network of brilliantly signposted walking trails all over the city, and I decided to do the one at the end of the tram ride that involved going pretty much vertically up a big fuck-off hill, for spectacular views back to the city.

The city centre is amazing, and had a big market going on. Like a German(ic) Christmas market kind of thing, all these stalls selling crafts and booze and stuff, except in hot May. It was great.

Anyway then I went to the beach. Vienna has got a lot of water, and there’s a big island with beaches and bars and stuff. No pics, apparently. Then I wandered back into town for happy hour at a craft beer place before wandering my way back to the hotel via yet more architecture. And horses.

Day 2 was an early start, walking away from the city centre but via lots more picturesque stuff, to the train station for my journey across the country to Salzburg.

It’s a good job part of the point of this was the train journey itself, in their fancy almost-like-an-aeroplane seating, because Salzburg was very close to being a huge pile of fail. The weather was shit, the brewery I wanted to go in was closed and I got drenched walking to it, there was construction and laughable facades on a lot of the architecture. It wasn’t pretty.

Eventually someone sold me a delicious pretzel with hailstone sized bits of salt on it, and cake, and I found somewhere dry and not crowded to have a beer. Things started to look up. It eventually stopped raining and I made my way across the river back into Neustadt and then the side streets for Die Weisse. Now we’re talking, this place is the home of wheat beer and I had one of everything they had on the day’s menu. And another pretzel and some white sausage (which was served in water). Salzburg was rescued from the precipice.

And I got my fancy train back ’n all.

My flight home the next day wasn’t until the evening, so I had plenty of time to do another of the city walks. This time I did a long, something like 13km circuit of this huge park very near the city centre. Walked deliberately as fast as my legs were willing to take me, stopping for barely any photos. Superb walk though, varied and beautiful. You’ll have to take my word for it, really.

Back at the hotel, I got changed and checked out and went to another craft beer place near the metro which would get me to the airport. Flight took off close to sunset, and the views of London as we approached Heathrow were bloody great.

YORKSHIRE: Fountains Abbey and stuff

Oh my god, how many bloody trips have I been on? This is really ramming home to me that I should write them live, like I used to. What an ordeal this is to write, let alone read.

Anyway, we went to Fountains Abbey and stuff. Helen had long been wanting to take her dad on holiday and finally we did it, hiring a National Trust cottage near Fountain’s Abbey and doing a whole load of stuff in the vicinity. Who’s heard of Brimham Rocks? Well you have now. Instantly one of my favourite places in the UK.

Fountain’s Abbey itself is bloody amazing, too. I arrived a couple of days after Helen and her dad had already been around it, but one benefit of staying in the cottage is that you get a key so you can go in out of hours. Me and Helen went for a wander on Friday evening and had the place to ourselves, it was incredible! As was sunset from the cottage.

And one of the best things about Fountain’s Abbey? There’s a parkrun there.

What we didn’t need on the Saturday night was to have to call out an emergency mechanic to fix a problem with the car. Its lights were flashing, as if to say “yo, battery is running out”, until they stopped because the battery had run out. In a very dark, very narrow lane with some twists and turns and a bridge with a light weight limit, a bloke came out and sorted it. So all’s well that ends well, but not fun!

Anyway, we ate very well - Yorkshire has some fine pie shops, to which we were despatched, and on Sunday we had a roast in this little market town just between the abbey and Harrogate. I was leaving that day, while Helen had a couple more days. I went on an impromptu beer crawl around the town, before the train to London. Down south I piled into a hotel near my office because I couldn’t be bothered trudging all the way home only to get up early and commute back in the next morning. Watched the tail end of the world cup final, enjoyed seeing Lionel cry.

Menorca

I promise this is the last trip, OK? In September we went to Menorca. It was brilliant. Ciutadella del Menorca is a gorgeous town with great weather and a lovely hotel 10 minutes from the historic bit, so nice and quiet. There was a brewery. The weather was a bit hot to do much walking, but we survived with a lot of good food and recreational sleep and really lovely Estrella glasses. And cheese! The hotel buffet had free self-pour fizzy wine too.

We did some culture, going into this convent-stroke-archaeological museum. They charged us the price for people 60 and over without even asking. FFHS.

END

And that’s your lot. That’s all the travelling of the last few years that I hadn’t already written about. At a stretch I could’ve mentioned a day trip to Rochester and a short break in Halifax, but I didn’t. Until now. And that’s as much as you’re getting. If you made it this far, fucking hell, what can I say. Sorry? And go install 5kViz. Go on.