Paradise On Earth

After the stress and worry yesterday, we needed a good day today and we got it in spades as we went to Lake Como, the place I'd wanted to visit ever since seeing photos of it years ago.

We left the opulance of our hotel in Piacenza and after I managed to get us going the wrong way (South and not North) on the same autostrada we had the tyre blowout on yesterday thus incurring 3.60 euros in extra tolls to get back North again, we made up the time and arrived without further incident in Como around noon.

We had another traditional Italian meal at a McDonalds (have they the monopoly in Italy ??) and then walked to the lakeside. It was a bit overcast and I was gutted as of all the locations where I wanted blue skies, this was it.

We didn't stay long and decided to head on up the lake road to Bellagio, a town I only knew about when I visited it's namesake casino in Las Vegas some years ago. A strange link I know but hey, it got me here. As we went up the incredibly narrow winding road to Bellagio, God heard my pleas and the clouds lifted and out came the sun again and the temps went up about 15 degrees.

It was a startling transformation and suddenly the lake became a magical, wonderful, beautiful place and I could understand why George Clooney has a place here. I would !

As we went north to the town, with awesome views on both sides, we were looking out for places to stay, not knowing if any would be available and if so, how much they would cost in this very ritzy location. We saw a sign for a 3 star hotel off to the side of the road, overlooking the lake so we turned around and came back to it as you just cannot slam on the brakes on this road as there is always someone right on your ass, so to speak.

In fact the drivers toot their horns if they think you are going too slowly and expect you to pull over to let them pass - several were very annoyed with us for not doing so and gave us strange gestures as they passed us at totally ridiculous places on the road.

So back to the hotel. We were told we could have 2 joining rooms for the night for 'only' 104 euros so we said yes immediately. We went up to see the rooms and both had their shades down so we didn't know if we had a view at all or if it was a view of the road or the lake or the hotel dustbins. We opened the shades with some excitement and once our eyes had become accustomed to the sunlight streaming in, this is the view that greeted us from our balcony........


Please click on the photo for a better look.

We were all gobsmacked and a few OMG's were expressed although mine was the only one with any merit as I was the only one of us who actually believes in Himself. What a view and at the best rate since we left Rome so all in all, a good result. This is another composite photo and I've rushed to get it merged and up on here so forgive it's appearance but it hopefully gives the idea what we see out the window and will wake up to tomorrow......without even getting out of bed. For once I won't mind sleeping with the curtains open ! Can't wait for sunrise. Well ok maybe not sunrise but 8am should be just fine.

We left the hotel and drove on up to Bellagio for the evening and it was so odd to drive into the small town for the first time and yet I felt I'd been there before as I'd checked it out on Google Street View many times from home. It was better seeing it in person and we had a lovely evening walking around the town and having a meal outside on the edge of the lake. We checked out the boat rides and may return to Bellagio tomorrow to get out onto the lake for a while.

We wanted to add another night here in this hotel, the Hotel Ristorante (G.L.A.V.J.C.) but they were booked up for the weekend and that's not a surprise. If you look at the only photo on the site, our rooms are two in from the right on the 2nd floor down and so overlooking the darker roof. Of course we also overlook the lake which is the main thing.

The hotel doesn't have wi-fi but I'm pinching it from someone called Alice so thank you very much for not securing your router, Alice. Much appreciated.

Right, time for bed but here are two photos of a part of Bellagio, the same view taken in the late afternoon and then again at night.

Ciao for now.

Blowout Leaving Tuscany

When I wrote the previous blog a couple of days ago, my fav Tuscan photos were still in the camera.

So here they are now..............







Yesterday we changed our plans and instead of going to Florence, we headed west to the coast and started on the drive up to Lake Como. We stopped for a nostalgic walk along the beach at Viareggio as Daffy had been there as a child with her mum and dad and she was delighted it hadn't changed much in the 73 years since her last visit.

The sand was hot, the water was warm but the resort was beginning to shut up for the season and many of the larger hotels were closed already. It was 35C for goodness sake. Get open !

We got a hotel called Hotel Joseph just a short distance up the coast but although it had wi-fi and we got a username and password from reception, there was no signal so I guess it was kaputski.

We went to a nearby restaurant and it was a bit like Fawlty Towers on a bad day. We were just given menus in German even before we'd spoken a word and after we'd said we weren't German or even close, our Manuel brought us Italian ones. We were perfectly happy with these but he saw his error and berated himself (probably as he wasn't from Barcelona you know) and brought us English ones.....well forgeign English ones, you know the type - lots of amusing spelling mistakes.

So we ordered classic Italian nosh, pork chops and french fries 3 times ! My chop was quite thick and when I cut into it, it snorted ! I pointed this out to Manuel who agreed it was a bit 'fresh' and some time later it came back in a much different form, several bits of very thin pork from multitudinous chops. It was acceptable if not quite pleasing on the eye.

Stephen and I decided to have a dessert and I picked one of my favs, creme caramel, and Stephen had a pannacotta which came with a choice of sauces and he chose chocolate. From the moment they arrived, the episode became the stuff of a classic British farce.

I was presented with the pannacotta and Stephen with the creme caramel which was an obvious mistake as MY creme caramel was still wobbling on his plate as these things tend to do. So we swapped dishes and then noticed all was STILL not right. My creme caramel was covered in chocolate sauce and...well you can guess the rest. We called Manuel over again and he initially tried to tell us in Italian that we had caused this mess by switching our plates and that's all that was wrong.

We explained about the sauce fiasco and he wasn't having it. All was well in his idea of a perfect dessert world but after we raised our voices and cut into the desserts to try and show what we meant (chocolate sauce dripping down over a lovely creme caramel and a similar cockup on t'other desertwas not what God had intended at all), he took both away muttering something about fighting at Monte Cassino in '39 and Benito Mussolini.

He came back with new desserts and they were new desserts with the exact same problem but Manuel had legged it before we could repeat our complaint and kept well away from us for some time. When we got his attention and he came over, we tried again to tell him that in normal world, chocolate sauce does not go with creme caramel and creme carmel sauce is a bit odd with pannacotta. Nope, he wasn't having any of it and when we raised our voices in frustration, he simply took the desserts away muttering that if we didn't like them we could jolly well do without any dessert at all. Well that was our interpretation of what he said.

For a good 25 minutes he avoided eye contact with us and we had to get Daphne up on Stephen's shoulders with a couple of Italian navy flags to signal that we'd quite like to leave now and could we please have the bill. By now thoroughly upset with us, Manuel brought the bill and we decided to pay it in cash in case a few euros were added to the credit card after we'd gone. It felt like that sort of place.

Anyway all that culinary excitement has paled into something very pale indeed when compared with today's tale of woe.

We left the coast and headed up into the mountains and the temp display in the car showed it was 17C when we hit the top and were almost above the cloud line. It was a stunning route on SS62 north east from La Spezia but after a few hours we decided to get onto the autorstrada and so we joined A1/E35 at Parma and headed for Piacenza and then Milan.

On this road you can go at 130 kph (80mph) and after the slow, twisty SS62, Stephen was making up time by going at the max speed. Then we got a blowout and thankfully it was on a rear tyre or else I'd probably have been typing this from a hospital bed with bits of me in nearby beds. Stephen got the car slowed down and over to the hard shoulder which just happened to have parallel lines of concrete sections about 4ft high like we get in the UK when motorway road works are going on as there were 2 more slip lanes to our right.

The smell of burning rubber filled the air and not in a good way. I got out to look at the damage as the 'flat' was on my side and was horrified to see this.........


We'd shred the tyre like a motorway lorry and had managed to push out part of the rear mudguard even though it's not visible here. A large part of the inner lining was a few feet back down the autostrada and there it still remains as I wasn't going to go and get it.

We put on the hazard lights, grabbed a few items likely to be useful to us (cell phone, sat/nav, fluorescent jackets and water bottles) and hopped over the barriers to be out of harms way. After that it all went a bit pear shaped and we felt alone in a foreign land for the first time on this trip and it's made me very angry.

We rang the Budget number and were told a tow truck would be sent. We gave them more specific directions on how to find us than Aldrin was given to land on the moon and yet we kept getting calls asking for more info. Hello ? We gave you an exact GPS fix, a long positional description from the GPS when "where am I" was chosen from the help options and even autostrada signs which narrowed down our position to the nearest 20 metres. I'm sure Pavel up on the space station could've found us faster.

Anyway tow truck man finally came and pulled in front of us and never even looked at the wheel but loaded us up onto a low loader. I say us because we were told to get into the car for the trip along the autostrada to the Ford garage, something I'm sure would not be allowed in the UK. We got to the garage but were told they did not have a replacement wheel available and it could be tomorrow (Friday), it could be Monday !

Phone calls were made by our driver and we made a few ourselves ! Budget were totally unhelpful in Italian and their subcontracted service people were equally unhelpful in Englitalian.

In the end we had to.....well listen to this for a lark. We had to ring the service people again who said they would ring around rental places in Piacenza for a replacement car for us. Then they would ring us with the address and we'd have to organise a taxi to take us to this place and hope it was a big enough taxi to take us AND out luggage as the garage we were at was closing for the day !

Daphne was the star of the day and her knowledge of Italian swear words increased exponentially as the incident developed. We got the address, got the taxi and got us and our luggage to an Avis rental place in the city. You can imagine what followed and we've no idea if we're still on the Budget contact we signed up for or if we're going to be charged by Avis as if we are a new customer. They weren't happy we were taking a car from them but dropping it off at Rome airport on 11th but by then we were at boiling point mentally and physically and Daffy was taking no prisoners.

Why we had to do everything was, and still is, my main complaint. Budget pretty much left us to organise everything ourselves and were as helpful as a fart in a spacesuit most of the time.

So we got our new car and headed out of Piacenza and stopped at the first hotel we could find as it was 8pm and almost dark and we were tired, hungry, hot and bothered.

Now it's midnight and amid all my grumblings about today, the important thing is we are safe and sound if very, very poor.

The room has a jacuzzi so I think I'll jump in and add a few more bubbles.

It's been that sort of day.

Greetings From Tuscany

Tuscany....it's everything I'd hoped it would be and a lot more besides.

I've finally got internet that lets me use my own laptop so before diving (ok flopping) into the pool, I thought I'd do a quick blog/update and add a few photos to give a flavour of the flavour we're having of Italy.

We got to Rome last Thursday as I said on the previous post and we were there for 3 days. Here is a rough panorama I took at the top of the basilica dome of St. Peter's and it's 3 photos merged into one.


I know it's been taken many times before but never by me, so there. ! This is a rough merge and I'll do it better when I get home.

Ok before you look at the next photo, I need to explain a few things. First it was HOT and I'm bald so for the first few days I needed a hat and I'd forgotten to pack one. As ever, Daphne and Stephen had brought extra so I was grateful for any sort of hat. Ok ? Stop tittering.

Next, the big brute of a gladiator was pushing up on my jowels with his sword so it's his fault that I've a double chin. Ok ?

Finally, I'm retaining water so.......ok ?

These are two of the three not so bright gladiators who allowed us to take photos with them and THEN asked for money. Ha ! Guess they didn't know they were dealing with Yorkshire folk !

On yer chariot, mateys.

Right, with all that out of the way, here we go.......


On Saturday we went to the Circus Maximus and there wasn't a clown or elephant in sight. Maybe the show had left town but they left behind a pretty impressive stadium. Then it was up the road to The Colesseum which was a bit awesome. It seemed unfinished to me so maybe the recession has hit Rome or maybe they hired the same builders who have yet to finish my front porch. Who knows ?

After that it was on to The Trevi Fountain, The Pantheon and the Piazza Navona. I had my first ever gelato at The Trevi Fountain but most of it ran down my arm before it got to my mouth. Next time I'll ask for it in a cup I think. It was good though, Sarah.

We left Rome on Sunday morning to go back to the airport and pick up the rental car. Then we were off into the wild blue unknown and started with a drive along the coast road for our first sighting of the sea. It was wet and blue so we went inland again and up into Tuscany.

Wow. What an inspiring part of the world. I felt like getting out my canvas and whipping off a quick landscape.....and I don't even paint. It's absolutely stunning and I'm just glad my little Nikon can take video as a still photo can't do it justice.

We needed somewhere south of Siena to spend the night and found a stunning old villa/renovated farmhouse set up in the Tuscan hills overlooking a beautiful valley of vineyards.

Hotel Santa Genoveffa looked awesome with it’s classic Tuscan architecture with a large outdoor swimming pool completing the impression of luxury even though the place dated from the 16th century.

It was 100 euros for a triple room including breakfast which we agreed was a reasonable deal for what we saw and after being shown to our room, we hit the pool. We had to wear hats that made us look like water polo players - we assume it was to keep hairs out of the filter system but my theory was they were to stop all the gel and grease from Italian men’s hair from clogging things up.


Next morning, Monday, we headed up to Siena and what a lovely town that is. The car parking is outside the town walls and so the inside is car free and much better for that.

Walked to Il Campo and the piazza was awesome…..huge and so photogenic with the bell tower dominating the place. We looked around and then had something to eat at a sort of Italian McD’s as we had large pizza slices, a drink and fries for 6.50 euros each - best deal of the trip so far !

Then we went into the historic town hall which was at the base of the bell tower and paid 7 euros each to climb the hundreds of steps to the very top. The views over Siena were stunning.





Down again and we got some ice cream (gelato) and I had cherry flavour and it was yummy. Here is the place we got them from.......


The only hard thing was which flavour to pick !

Walked to the other famous site in Siena, Il Duomo, which is a church and bell tower but the tower is in a mix of black and white bricks and the front of the church is really ornate.


The modern crane kinda spoiled the view but I'll airbrush it out when I get home.

After that we went back to the the car park and as we’d been only 4 hrs, it was a reasonable 6.40 euros.

We let Sheila (my sat/nav) get us on the route to Florence with the added excursion to San Gimignano but she took us to a narrow dirt road at one point and we just couldn’t take it. She picked up the trail again after we went another way and when we got to the point where we left the SS223 to go to San Gimignano, at a small town called Castellina In Chianti, we got a place for the night but it was expensive and it’s pool closed at 6pm and it was after that when we got there !

The place was 13th century but they had to put a bed into the room for me and it was close to 150 euros for the night and had no air conditioning and if I left the window behind my head open to let in some air, everyone and his dog could see in as the room was on the ground floor. It was also a very noisy town with a fireworks display at 11:30 for soime reason and dogs were barking all night. It was also by the road and the young Agostini's on their motor bikes would race past in the early hours as they knew everyone was in bed.

No, we didn't fancy another night there and ironically now we're at a wonderful place just about a mile up the road as we went off westwards to spend the day at San Gimignano, the most complete medieval walled town in the whole world ever and then returned to Castellina In Chianti to pick up the road to Florence.

San Gimignano was good but not a patch on Siena, our fav place so far. I've no piccies of it to post as they are still in the camera.

Actually our fav 'place' so far has to be the Tuscan countryside as it's stunning.




Again the best ones were taken today and so are in the camera for another post.

Time to hit the pool and then a short stroll from our apartment - yes we got an apartment tonight for less than that awful place last night AND it comes with a/c and wi-fi internet (obviously) and a kitchen so as we went shopping today in a supermarket, we can make use of the fridge. We got goodies !!!

The apartment overlooks another typical Tuscan valley, and it's a short stroll to the local restaurant where we'll be going for our supper this evening. It was 35C/95F today and those have been the temps since we got here. All these Tuscan towns are on hills so we've been climbing like goats so a large supper is a welcome way to end the day.

So ciao for now.

Rome - It's A Bit Old, Ain't It ???

Sorry I've not posted before but the internet here in this hotel reception is a bit odd to say the least as it times out and also the keyboards are in Johnny Foreigner hiroglyphics (I'm sorry for spelling mistakes and typos but sod it, live with them for now) so typing isn't easy.

At least mine has apostrophes.

As Daffy said, we 'did' the Colosseum today and what a grand ruin it was and like Daffy herself, pretty well preserved.

My overall impressions of Rome are - hot, mad drivers, even madder bikers, hot, old, photogenic in the extreme, expensive, cobbled streets, hot, full of Italians for some reason, jugglers and car window cleaners at many street intersections and did I say hot ? Yes very hot.

Fabby place though and so different from, say, Milton Keynes. Hotter for a start and it's got many more people dressed as gladiators who accost you everywhere and get you to pose with them for photos and then ask for 5 euros. Sorry pal but I can see why you died out as a race.....you need to get the money BEFORE we take the photos !! Basic supply and demand. You supply the photo opportunity and we bugger off.

Romans eh ? What did they ever do for us ? Plonkers.

Anyway as Daffy said, time on these terminals is suspect so I'll not waffle on.

Having a wonderful time and I must be, better be, about 10lbs lighter even with all the lasagne and spagetti and pizza as we've travelled further than Eddie Izzard over these last 3 days.

More to come when we find t'internet in the hills.

Caio.

In Seach Of The Lost Cord

I bought this house back in May of 1982, so just over 27 years ago. It hasn't needed much doing to it, which has been just as well as my skill in DIY is as severely lacking as my interest in doing DIY. I know one end of a hammer from another but as both are hard, I'm quite happy to use either on the few occasions I've needed to use one.

But once you get into higher levels of DIY, like when 2 x 4's are mentioned, then you've lost me completely and I might as well be listening to Stephen Hawking....when he's pissed.

As a result, many things in this house have been in use for all of those 27 years and probably long before then too. One of them is the light cord in my bathroom which drops down about 3 feet from the ceiling as such things tend to do and the knob bit ( see, I'm sure there is a perfectly good DIY name for the gizmo that I pull on....and don't be crude !!.......but I don't know what it is ) was handily placed for me to.....well.....pull on it. I could, and usually did, do it with my eyes closed.

Get out of the gutter for goodness sake !

Now have you ever watched a tv show or a movie where a blind man is shown wandering around his living room ? Assuming he's lived there for some time, he can do this quite well and doesn't bump into anything as he has a mental image of the layout so doesn't need his sight. Of course if some asshole moves his coffee table a few inches, our poor blind friend will have a cracked shin the next time he goes to answer the door.

Ok fast forward 27 years to last night and I pulled a bit too hard on my knob (sighhhhh) and the cord broke about 6 inches from the bottom. Considering it's age, it probably just rotted away but for whatever reason, there I was with just over 2 feet of knobless cord dangling before my eyes. I looked up at the ceiling fixing and the idea of messing about with it to attach a new cord just blew my mind. That was advanced DIY and well out of my league. With electricity probably involved as well, it was totally off limits to me.

Ever one to put up with things, I felt ok just pulling on the string for a few more years. Yes, that would be fine. Sorted.

Then I looked at the knob and even my untrained DIY eyes spotted that the end of the cord just went through it and a knot at the end stopped it coming off. Ok stay with me here as it gets a bit complicated from now on. What if, just if mind you, I threaded the remaining cord through the knob again and made a new knot......see......see where I'm going with this ??

I almost had to sit down as I was practically hyperventilating. I threw DIY caution to the wind and just went ahead and did it and joy of all joys, it worked. I stood looking at my handiwork and finally knew what Michaelangelo must've felt like looking up at his Sistine Chapel etchings.

There is just one ever so tiny problemette. Remember the blind man ? Well ever since my DIY masterpiece, I've almost fallen into the bathroom every time I've gone to pull the light switch because after 27 years of KNOWING the exact position of the knob in time and space, my poor old brain hasn't worked out that it's now 6 inches higher ! I'm like Andy Murray completely missing a serve.

I'm sure I'll get used to it but until I do, as I'll be missing the slight resistance provided by pulling on the cord, I risk ending up on my knees in a pitch dark bathroom, face down in the toilet bowl.

And that's without even having had a drink !!

Oh and before you say it, I know I could always join the two ends of the cord together and Bob's your crossdressing Auntie it'd all be sorted. BUT that would involve another knot and I'm now out of the DIY business.

I'm quitting while I'm ahead.

Lockerbie Revisited

38 minutes after taking off from London en route to New York on 21st of December 1988, Pan Am flight 103 exploded at 31,000ft and crashed down on the small Scottish town of Lockerbie killing 270 people - 243 passengers, 16 crew and 11 from the town.

The event, the flight number and the small town of Lockerbie (pop under 4,000) will be forever in the minds of those affected by this act of terrorism and have been rekindled today with the news that the only man charged and imprisoned for the atrocity has been released and allowed to return to Libya on compassionate grounds.

This news has not gone down well with everyone and the Scottish Justice Secretary, knowing full well that for the only time in his career he was in the world spotlight, laboured to tell us that due process had been performed and although the terrorist had shown no remorse or compassion for killing 270 people, he was still going to show compassion to him.

My memories of that terrible event are very clear, which is usual for me ! In those days I regularly went up to the ferry port of Stranraer to go over to N. Ireland to see my mum and as it was approaching Christmas, I had booked for a crossing two days after the tragedy. I remember standing in front of my tv set, shocked at what I was seeing as I knew exactly where it had taken place.

Two days later I decided to set off earlier than normal as I knew there would be traffic disruption at some point along the route and sure enough I noticed a build up along the M6 as it approached the Scottish border. When I left to go onto the A74, I came upon the first signs of police activity with notices warning of diversions and delays ahead. Before I came to any, my route took me onto the A75 which runs all the way to Stranraer and so I wasn't impacted in any way. When I came to Dumfries there were more police signs as this is the nearest large town to Lockerbie, 12 miles away, and there were lots of tv and press vans scattered around the road leading to the crash site.

Once on the ferry, the event was the only talking point among the passengers and I remember thinking if my plans to fly to America for the first time the following summer should be abandoned. Like most others, I decided that flying would be safer than ever after the Lockerbie tragedy and so I went ahead and have been going every year since.

I doubt we've all heard the last about Lockerbie. The plane may be gone (although a lot of it is still in a scrap yard in rural Lincolnshire), the convicted terrorist may be dead in a couple of months but I'm sure every 10 years we'll revive the memories of that fateful evening.

So was it right to release Abdel Basset Ali al-Megrahi ? Well the procecution case against him back in 1991 was flawed to say the least and we can't even be sure if anyone from Libya was involved at all. Huge payments were made to the relatives by Libya but it was always maintained that was to get UN sanctions removed and Libya has flourished as a result.

So maybe Megrahi was a scapegoat as we all needed someone to take the blame. Who knows.

The one part of this whole disaster that has remained with me to this day involves one of the flight attendants onboard Pan Am 103. She was found by a farmer's wife in a field close to Lockerbie, still straped to her seat. And still alive ! She died soon afterwards before help could be summoned. Can you imagine her last few minutes ? It still makes me shiver.

If it was 100% sure that Megrahi was involved in planting the bomb, then thinking about those last few terrifying moments endured by that flight attendant would be enough to convince me that even if he is about to die of cancer, then he should die in prison.

He's now been given the chance to die with dignity; to die surrounded by family and friends; a peaceful death in fact.

All things denied the 270 people who he may have been responsible for killing 21 years ago.

If only we knew for sure.............

Time On My Hands

It's Wednesday evening and Virgin Media are having problems. Sadly their problems are my problems as right now I have no tv. Well to be precise, I have a tv but no channels. No stations. No images. Nada. I can't even watch previously recorded shows as everything comes from the infamous V+ box which is a wonderful, almost magical box when it's working but is as much use as a chocolate teapot when it's not working.

Like now.

Last week my enjoyment of the England footy game was spoiled when it played up and I had to watch the match on the internet. Tonight a couple of Johnny foreigner teams were playing so it wasn't as important but even so, I'm just about to give a very aggressive "tut" and you just know Mr. Branson will be quaking in his sandals when it reaches his ears.

So now what ? Life without tv !

I tried ringing the customer line and got a msg saying to try later. Wonderful. And just when might this 'later' be, exactly ? When the Virgin Media logo has burned into my screen perhaps !

Time to ramble I think.................

I still have t'internet. The good old reliable internet.

We were using it this afternoon to plan some scenic drives in Northern Italy as we leave on 27th for 15 days over in the land of pizza. So far we've got routes from Rome to Siena to Florence to Pisa. A bit of a mix of coastal and inland drives that look very promising. What we want is scenery and not cities but of course there are just some cities that can't be missed so it'll be a balance. We'd like to include Lake Como and Venice but that might be too much 'driving' and not enough 'seeing' and so we need to plan a bit more.

And in 10 weeks time I'll be off to Florida for the winter but no planning will be needed there as it's like a second home to me by now. Actually it IS my second home but don't tell US Immigration. Yes, six months of glorious sunshine and this pale body is ready for it.

TV still not back yet.

Last week I had phone problems and while ransacking the house looking for my old style corded phone to use as a backup, I found a stack of old diaries from the early 70's. Now as I've mentioned before, I've never managed to keep a diary for a whole year. The nearest I got was in 1970 when I kept a page-a-day diary right until I went to Leicester Polytechnic in September of that year - and then the entries dried up. Not surprising really but still quite sad as ironically those were days I'd like to recall but can't without the help of a diary. I have a few vague mental images but although I wasn't on drugs or alcohol, I can't remember much else.

Anyway as I read through the dairies over the next few days, I'll let you know if anything blogworthy turns up. I doubt it, as the 70's wasn't that great a decade for me. If only I'd kept a diary during the 60's. Oh man would I have beans to spill and careers to ruin.

VM customer service still not answering. Q : Who do they ring when they've a problem ?

I guess I could do something useful like go to bed. Hell it's only 9pm. Got 5 hrs till bedtime so that's no use. I could read a book. Nah....that's what I do IN bed (yes how sad is THAT ??)

What am I thinking !! I have over 40 unwatched (cough, cough) movies on here plus nearly 200 (cough, cough) US tv shows. Wooohoooo.

Ok rambling over. Ice Age 3 here I come.

Who needs tv ?

(I do)

UWOTD

It's been a while since my last UWOTD and since I changed the rules so it could be Ulster WORDS Of The Day so I could include phrases, this one will be a phrase.

And it's all down to Mr. Charles Lawson.

Who ?

Well even if you are a regular Coronation Street watcher, you might not recognise the name but you would know the character he plays, Jim McDonald.

"Ah yes, what about ye ?"

Yes the very man.


I dislike the man with a passion. Sorry, I dislike the character with a passion as he embodies one of the things I dislike most about N. Ireland....the Belfast accent.

He's not been in the soap for some time and that's been a blessing but he was no sooner back last Friday than in a typical example of typecasting, he was in the bar, having a drink and causing mayhem while saying he wasn't there to cause mayhem.

As no one was expecting him to be there, old Jim had free reign to keep saying "what about ye ?" to everyone who glanced his way. As if that wasn't bad enough, he came out with the classic "I'll tell ye this and I'll tell ye no more" which sadly is never the case with him.

But it was when he came out with "catch yourself on" that I felt I might have another UWOTD post in the making. The problem is that it seems an obvious phrase for me to understand as, of course, I'm from N. Ireland and heard this expression all the time when growing up. When I mentioned it to my US friend, Debby, she hadn't a clue.

"Catch Yourself On."

It's not that easy to explain in a few words actually but in general it's a mild rebuke, warning or caution. Like if you're talking with someone who says something that seems ridiculous to you, you'd say it.

"See that house ? It's valued at £1m but I'm going to buy it one day."

"Yeah right. Catch yourself on."

Get the idea ? It's as if you're telling the other person to look at what they're saying as it's so hard to believe. Here is an even better example............

"You know, that Charles Lawson fella will win an Oscar one day, so he will."

"Oh catch yourself on."

Taking Care Of Business

Here in the UK, people are still allowed to come to our homes to get us to buy into some service or other that they just happen to offer. I like this as much as a root canal and if I see them coming, I simply ignore them and they go away. Sometimes they shove a business card or a flyer through my letterbox but as most of them wouldn't know how to spell the word 'business' and certainly don't want unfortunate customers/suckers getting in touch with them afterwards, they just leave.

I was doing the dishes this morning when one such individual knocked on my neighbour's door and I glanced through the frosted glass of my kitchen door to see a blob of orange moving around the driveway.

Drying my hands, I went to my front porch to get a better look and saw it was someone wearing one of those reflective motorway type jackets and as I removed a letter from my letterbox (yes they're STILL not pushing them all the way through so don't get me started on that), orange man picked up the noise like a vulture sensing a meal and came to my door. Damn.

Now at this point I need to say that when I first get up in the morning, I need to take a while to get my brain in gear and so I often wander around in my boxers until I know if I'm going for an exercise walk, going shopping or just going to stay indoors for a while. Different pants for different activities you see.

So there I was at my front door with the net curtain to one side, not really wanting to engage in conversation with anyone, given my state of undress. I immediately noticed this character had a badge on his jacket that said something like Beechcraft Tree Services and this rang a bell with me that I'd had this 'company' here before offering their services to cut my trees or trim my hedge or some such thing.

My one rule is very simple : I will NEVER hire anyone who comes to my house offering a service.

NEVER.

So I said no thank you before he'd even opened his mouth.

"Why not ?" he asked.

"I've already got your details if I want to call you" I said as I really thought I did. Have his card or flyer I mean.

"How did you get it ?" he asked

By now I wanted away so just let the net curtain drop and said "Through the letterbox I suppose. I donno."

As I walked back into my living room I heard him shout "LIAR" at me.

So I guess he wasn't the type to pop details through the letterbox then !! Quelle surpise.

I hadn't seen any vehicle outside and this was because it was parked round the corner. A minute or so later it slowly went past my house and even though my new friend couldn't possibly see me inside my house (God bless net curtains) it didn't stop him from shouting out in a cheerful voice........

PRICK !!

Now given that I was wearing boxers, it may have been that he was warning me that I was showing more of myself to the world than I'd ever want to show but somehow I think he was just a pissed off........well if I could do graphics as well as they did a while ago on Top Gear, I'd now be showing a little photo of a pie and a little photo of a key with a plus sign in between them.

Obviously I can't tell you what his tree/hedge trimming skills are like but I think he made it very obvious that those charm school lessons were a total waste of time.

It's A Funny Old Game

Supporting Leeds United, my local team, over the last few years has mostly been a pretty painful experience. Thankfully they lost the ability to inflict thoughts of suicide within me a long time ago and these days I just sigh for a while when they lose or draw.

Tonight they are playing a cup game against Darlington, a team from 65 miles up the A1 from Leeds but a million miles away in terms of footballing pedigree. Of course a big name means little in football and so it's not a surprise to me that it's 0-0 at half-time and they've played as well as we have. Or as badly.

Playing as we do now in the 3rd tier of English football, Leeds aren't on the telle much these days so I thought I'd be giving this game my full attention. I've already been around a few other channels during the first half (I drew the line at QVC) and am typing this blog post during the start of the 2nd half. Lets just say that so far it's not been the most exciting game I've ever seen.

When I first came to Leeds in the early 70's, I became a season ticket holder and even went to a lot of away games. There was little to compare with mixing cheery chants and bawdy banter with those lovely football fans who supported Man United, Liverpool and Chelsea in the 70's. Oh it was such fun and life long friendships were formed either on the streets outside the grounds or more usually at the local A&E departments.

The rivalries are still there but thankfully not the violence of those days. Maybe it's having all seater stadiums or maybe it's having to get a mortgage to buy a ticket. It's certainly not our society as it seems that every male under the age of 21 packs a knife these days and is more than willing to use it. No football now is all big business and a multi-billion £ business at that. The stars at the top of the heap earn......ok get paid.....so much that they could retire after a month and that has widened the gap between players and fans even more.

5 minutes to go and Leeds are winning 1-0 but even now I get little satisfaction from the scoreline. I just can't get that excited about beating a team from Darlington. A few years ago we were playing and beating teams like Barcelona, Valencia and Roma and now we're struggling against.......Darlington.

But the only way is up, as Yazz once said. Or sang. So it may be only Darlington tonight but who knows, a good run in the cup and we might be playing Man United, Chelsea or Liverpool.

Sadly it won't be like the old days as if we meet any of those teams, we'll get stuffed. On the pitch and off it.

I guess I'd better enjoy tonight then. Final score....1-0 to Leeds. Muted wooohooooo.

The Internet Can Damage Your Health

I went to the docs yesterday as I have had a pain in my left forearm for a month now, since returning from Tenby in fact. I'd not usually go to see a doc with such a trivial 'afflication' but even if it was something minor, I felt 4 weeks was long enough to put up with it and he might give me something for it.

I never thought he'd suggest amputation !!!

And he didn't......but he might as well have as he advised spending a lot less time on the internet to let the inflamed muscle in my forearm settle down.

Less time on the internet !!! Was he MAD ? What next ? No tv ? Stop breathing ? They're all the same to me.

He gave me a 15 day prescription for cocodamol so that's another 8 pills to take a day on top of the 7 I take already as part of my 'heart package' so if I wasn't rattling before, I will be now. I dare not leave the house or I'll have to take a briefcase with me for my medication. I'll be like those people I've seen in WalMart who walk around with a drip - and I don't mean their partner !

So I guess I shouldn't even be typing this blog. Sorry doc. I'll cut down, honest. Just not cold turkey, eh ?

And before Robert makes any comments about why it's my left arm that aches, I'd better say that I'm left handed.

I suspect I've only made things worse !

Waxing Lyrical

Nostalgia not being what it used to be, I have little to do with it.

I often watch those 'Cash In The Attic' shows and know that if I needed to sell something from my attic to pay for, say, a new kidney, I'd be down to one working kidney. Unless the value of an empty Panasonic TV box suddenly takes off.

It has the original styrofoam packaging....any takers ? No ? Didn't think so.

I think the oldest thing in my house is the open tin of beans at the back of my fridge as even the mold on that has mold. I do have a one pound note somewhere so that might beat the beans for the title but I'm not sure. The 'best by' date on the tin is in Roman numerals !

Actually neither of those things take the title of oldest thing in my house. Yes, yes I know you're probably saying that I have to be that record holder myself but let's make it an inanimate thing, ok ?

Actually I still might qualify so lets make it, oldest thing without a beard. Yes that'll work.

And the title holder is....drum roll please....a lava lamp.

On one of my trips back to my home in N. Ireland, I was lying in bed and looking around at a room that had hardly changed since I left over 30 years earlier. Now don't get me wrong as it wasn't dusty or anything but as I'd been allowed to sleep in the guest bedroom that mum kept ready for that Papal visit that never happened, it was like sleeping in a time capsule with a bed.

There was a newspaper on the bedside table with the headline "Keeler Brings Down Profumo" and I don't think it was a report from a Lions Rugby match. There was a framed NME chart on the wall from when my fav group, The Tremeloes, hit the top with "Silence Is Golden."

And there was my lava lamp on the dressing table. An original late 60's lava lamp as I bought it before I left home in 1970. I decided there and then I was having it back and when I left, so did the lamp. It's now here in my living on top of my right channel surround sound speaker and is as dangerous today as it was back when I bought it. I'm sure it would fail every health and safety regulation that now cover such things as it's basically a naked light bulb underneath a sealed glass tube of some unknown liquid with a large blob of wax at the bottom.

As the contents warm up from the heat of the light bulb, the wax softens, breaks off into small blobs and these blobs float to the top of the glass tube. As they slowly approach the top, they cool down and start to fall back down only to warm up again and.....well you know how it works.

It's all very 60's hippy dippy and was very exciting back then, especially if you'd just smoked something illegal. Not that I ever did such a thing, oh gosh no. Remember in those days we didn't have Sky Sports or "Celebrity Big Brother Come Dancing On Ice In The Jungle" so it didn't take much to excite us.

But it would hardly raise the blood pressure of a modern teenager who has the attention span of a gnat with alzheimers. But I still love it and it was only recently that I had to replace the original bulb. Things were built to last in those days.

Now when I'm watching a movie, I close the curtains, dim the lights to almost off, light up a few candles and power up the lava lamp. It used to take a while to get the wax to move so throwing health and safety totally out the window, when the original 40 watt bulb finally blew, I replaced it with an 100 watt bulb and wow.....watch that wax go, baby !!

I'm not sure the liquid should be bubbling at the top but hey, it all adds to the effect.

So there you have it. An original 60's lava lamp. The oldest thing in my house.

And although it has to be worth more than the Panasonic box in the attic, I'd never sell it. Well until it burns down my house and then the sodding thing is going on eBay.

Nostalgia my ass.

Where's Jacko ???

I went for a walk in the countryside today and to get in touch with my feminine side (which is my left side, if you're interested), I was listening to Top 100 Pop Love Songs on my mp3.

Hey don't you DARE judge me. You don't KNOW me !!!

Anyway, when I'll Be There by The Jackson 5 came on, I suddenly thought about MJ and how we've not heard a thing about him since the whole media frenzy surrounding his death took place.

I mean where is he ? Oh I'm not asking about his soul, his aura or his spirit. Not even his collection of toys just in case the kiddies came a callin'.

No, I mean his body. Has he been buried yet and if so, was it a full graveyard job or a cremation or what ? Maybe the family are holding off until they are satisfied with the cause of death and what led up to it. Given how much his body was decomposing when he was alive, I dread to think what it must be like now, gold coffin or no gold coffin.

He had a life long fascination with death and specifically how to avoid it for as long as possible. Perhaps wanting his body to be preserved in the afterlife, maybe he has been mummified in full ancient Egyptian tradition, although this does present one tiny problem. The Egyptians removed the internal organs of the recently deceased by pulling them out through the nose.

I think you know where I'm going with this !

If indeed Jacko has been mummified, I expect that particular external organ will be popping up on eBay before the year is out as I doubt it would've survived the process. S&H shouldn't cost much.

Reports in early July said he was being buried without his brain but then these reports came from the British tabloid press and most of those reading those rags are as brainless as MJ anyway. No clue there then.

I guess we'll be told eventually and until then at least the speculation has died down. Maybe then he'll be allowed to rest in peace, a peace he was rarely given when he was alive. Yes he mostly courted publicity and few artists have manipulated it as well as he did. Just as the jury is out on his personal life, it's also out on whether this manipulation served him or helped bring him down in his later years.

One thing is for sure. Nothing in his life or death has been black or white.

Just a little bit of both.

Cheap Hotels In Ireland

I just used that title so I'd get some extra visitors when people Google for cheap hotels in Ireland !

I know, I'm sneaky.

But it really is an appropriate title for this post. This evening I've been looking for hotels in Northern Italy for our trip there in a few weeks time and my mind drifted back to the cheapest 'hotel' I've ever stayed in and it was back to when I was a young teenager in the mid 60's.

We didn't have much money for holidays when I was growing up (cue violins) and usually my brother and I would be given a magazine photo of some exotic location and told to go away for 2 weeks and fantasize about being there. No seriously, we usually made do with visits to relatives farms or go on day trips to the seaside, which in Northern Ireland, is never far away.

One year we took the money earned from selling my sister to a lovely dark skinned man with a white towel on his head (Dad didn't need the camel he offered and held out for the cash) and we all drove down to Southern Ireland for a proper holiday. I think we went for 3 days and in Dublin we didn't really have the money to spend on a big city hotel.

I've been trying to remember the year and thought it would be easy to find out because we went to see a Morcambe & Wise movie. Sadly I can't remember if it was "The Intelligence Men", "That Riviera Touch" or "The Magnificent Two" so I can't be sure if it was 1965, 1966 or 1967. In any case, after the movie we came back to the car to think about a hotel and just ended up sleeping in the car all night.

Ever since then we joked about staying at The Anglia Hotel in Dublin and before anyone goes off to Google it, that was our car, a Ford Anglia. If we opened the windows a bit we had air conditioning but the 'beds' wouldn't even have been acceptable in a Motel 6. But it was fun in those simple days and a nice memory of that family trip.

Right, time to get back to the Italy trip.

I'm glad we're booked into The Sheraton in Rome for 3 nights as I can't imagine sleeping in The Opel Astra Wagon Hotel.

Not at my age !

First Class Travel

When I booked my latest flight to America a few days ago, I used up some of my airmiles to lower the price and this was the first time in 20 years that I did that.

I was a late starter with airmiles and I've never accumulated enough for a free flight as I switch airlines just about every time to get the best price. I've flown with US Airways, American, Continental, Delta, Virgin, Air Lingus and even BMI and if Jet2 ever add flights from Leeds to Florida, I'll probably go with them ! Definitely not Ryanair though. I have my standards.

But on their booking web site, Virgin had a box to tick if you wanted to use 2,000 airmiles to lower the price, so I decided to take that option as I'm sure I'll never accumulate the 50,000 needed for a free flight.

I did once get a free flight to America. I was part of the great British Hoover fiasco in the mid 90's when Hoover offered free tickets to the US for anyone spending over £100 on any of their products. As flights cost a lot more than that, the offer was happily taken up by many thousands and almost bankrupted Hoover. Although the company tried to worm out of paying up, I got my tickets and was off. Bless you, Hoover.

I've only ever been bumped up to 1st class once and that was back in 2003 when I flew to Philadelphia with US Airways and as usual I asked if there was any chance of an upgrade and amazingly, it worked.

These are all unedited photos from back then and first up is me all on my own as there were so few people in this Envoy class section that the seat beside me and those behind and in front were empty too.


The trouble was, I'm an Economy class kinda guy and when it comes to plane food, I prefer plain food ! I didn't fancy any of the Envoy food on offer but picked at as much of it as I could. I did like the dessert though. Look, proper plates and a napkin even if the cutlery was still plastic.




A few others had been upgraded as well and without being nasty, I think you can tell these ladies across from me weren't typical Envoy class passengers either. Maiow !!

Check out that leg room !!


As we approached the East coast of the US, I took this photo out the window.

Obviously.


And finally as we came in to land at Pittsburgh, this was the view of their football stadium......I assume. Maybe it's a WalMart.


Sometimes the views coming in to land can be amazing but these days I prefer an aisle seat to a window seat as I need to get up a lot and walk about. I've picked an aisle seat again this time so probably won't see much at landing time but then it's only Orlando.

The space shuttle has just landed safe and sound about 45 miles from Orlando at the Kennedy Space Centre and an hour ago they were in orbit. As it'll take me over 9 hours just to fly there from England, I can't wait to swap from Virgin Atlantic to Virgin Galactic.

When that happens, I'll definitely be asking for an upgrade AND I'll be taking a window seat.

The Visa Has Landed

Ok I promise this will be the last post...hehe....about my visa. I hate blowing my own trumpet anyway.

Last post.....trumpet.....oh suit yourselves !!

Well it was delivered a few minutes ago and I'm really not sure I got my £14.60 worth. No posh car/van arrived and the guy was a typical UPS type with his electronic signature device and regulation chewing gum. And no eye contact at all. I talked to the top of his head while he entered data into his device and he kept his head down as I signed it.

I think I should ask for a £14 refund. Or maybe I should stop answering the door in the nude !

What did annoy the hell out of me was that the embassy had stuck a label on the cover of my passport that covered the whole...ah....cover. It had obviously got some sort of super Homeland Security type glue on it as it was a bugger to get off and kept tearing. Once off, I noticed that the crest and a lot of the writing on the passport cover had gone with it. Yes folks, the US Embassy has permanently 'damaged' my passport and have been well embursed by me for the privilage.

I think an email to the Queen or the PM is in order.....I feel an international incident coming on and the 'special relationship' between our two countries could be at an end.

Then again my passport expires in 2011 so it's probably not worth it and I'll just give the embassy a very large British 'tut' instead. There, just did it. Consider yourselves well and truely 'tutted.'

Of course if the NSA, CIA or FBI have people constantly searching for bloggers who type "US Embassy" and "tut" in the same sentence, I can expect someone with more than a signature device to be coming up my driveway any time now.

If you don't hear from me for a while, it may be down to me spending the winter in Guantanamo Bay rather than Buttonwood Bay.

If so, there will be some SERIOUS tutting from me !!

The Brit Is Coming....Again !

Carried away with getting my B-2 tourist visa renewed last Thursday, I've totally ignored the advice on the US Embassy site and have booked my flights to America before having my passport (with visa) in my sticky fingers. If it doesn't arrive this coming week, I'll feel free to have a mild panic attack.

The airline companies may be in a bit of a mess at the moment but their woe became my joy when I found that prices were substantially lower than last year...or any year this century as far as my flights to America are concerned.

First things first though and given my medical history and the fact that according to those in the insurance community I have an ongoing medical condition, that needed to be sorted out before booking the flights. Getting insurance for 177 days in America with enough medical cover to ensure that needing to see a doctor doesn't bankrupt me, doesn't come cheap. Now I've the sort of cover that would pay for a new wing at my local hospital.

$10m in fact. Sounds like a lot but I've paid for a doctors visit in America and believe me, I might need to top that up with some cash of my own.

The good news was that the cost of insurance plus the cost of the flights came to a lot less than the cost of the flights alone for last year. And for the first time in 50 flights across the pond, I'll be going non stop. Manchester to Orlando in fact. That'll be a treat as the less takeoffs and landings I have to survive, the better I like it.

Hang on, that doesn't sound right. I think I want to survive them all ! Well you know what I mean.

Just one thing though. I'll be over there for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter so not much chance of losing weight !

Veni, Vidi, Visa At The US Embassy

With apologies to Mr. Caesar of Rome (47BC), yesterday those famous words, or my adaptation of them, rang true for me when I successfully renewed my US B2 Visitors Visa and so can continue wintering in Florida for the next 10 years at least. Wooohoooo.

I thought I'd post about the interview in case anyone else wanting to apply for a visa does a google search and finds this post - as I'm sure my experience was typical and thus, relevant.

And what an experience it was.

We (my fellow [non fellow] blogger Daphne was with me as my twitter secretary !) set off at 6am to get the 6:40am coach from Leeds to London which dropped us off at Marble Arch at 11am. That was a bit of a shock as our tickets were to Victoria Coach Station so I guess Daphne's constant descriptions of the trees and flowers along the M1 had annoyed even the driver !

No but seriously, we'd asked to be let off at Marble Arch as it was much closer to the US Embassy than Victoria but to be honest, with 2.5 hours to spare until my interview time, distance didn't really matter that much.

So we walked along Oxford Street for a while as it was a lovely morning with blue skies and a few fluffy white clouds. We stopped off at a McDonalds for coffee and when we came out, it was raining ! We went across the road into a Debenhams store to pass the time and when we came out reeking of perfume and after shave testers, it was sunny again. After walking almost to the end of Oxford Street, we turned round and walked back and got a light snack (see later) and then headed down to the Embassy.

I went in at 1pm (appointment was for 1:30pm) and after passing through stations where my paperwork was given a quick check and then through security, I was in the foyer of the huge building. My appointment letter with it's barcode was scanned by the quietly efficient receptionist and I was allocated a number, 449, and sent upstairs to the visa section.

I entered a large rectangular room with about 200 people already waiting for their visas !!

This was not a good sign. At one end was an area being run by the company who post passports/visas back to applicants. Then there were rows of 100 people seated facing 4 raised plasma tv monitors and on the other side of these monitors were 4 more monitors and rows of 100 more people facing them. In other words there were 100 people facing 100 people with raised monitors in between. Two of these screens were showing a series of numbers and which consular agent's windows were currently dealing with these numbers. The other two screens were showing scrolling information about the interview process.

Every so often these info screens would display a ticket number and a window number and a voice would say..........number 434 to window 12 please and the relevant applicant would trot off and be dealt with. I'd no sooner sat down than my number was called. Hurrah, I was jumping the line to my interview, I thought. I'd be out in no time, I thought.

Sadly when I got to the window I realised that this was only part 1 of the process. My compulsary documents were checked and scanned again, my passports were taken (I have 2 as my current visa in in an old expired passport) and I was asked if I had any other documents that would help 'my case' so I handed them all over......utility bills and bank statements to try and prove I actually have a life here in the UK to leave America for at the end of every trip ! Then I rejoined the 200 others and waited.....and waited. All the time that people were being called to have their interviews, others were coming in to replace them. I think new people stopped coming at 3pm.

The numbers being called out to 'invite' applicants to the next part of the process were in no particular order which meant we had no idea how long we'd have to wait. Speaking with those around me, some had been waiting since 10am (admittedly they HAD just arrived very early for their appointments) but the average was 3 hrs !!

At one point the numbers being called included 440, then 441 and so on. As I was 449 I got ready to go and when it got to 448, I picked up my jacket and remaining paperwork and started saying goodbye to my new found friends. After 448 the next number was....380. Damn and blast.

45 minutes later 449 was finally announced and I started the stopwatch function on my watch. Still thinking I'd be off to a room with a desk and a proper interview session, I went down a corridor and came to another bank of windows like in a post office ! I went to the one for me and there was a young chap already looking through my pile of bills and statements and he told me he'd never seen so many potential proofs of residency and that I'd definitely erred on the side of 'taking no chances'. He asked why I want to spend long holidays in Amerca so I said I am retired and like to winter in Florida. He said golf or tennis and I said golf.

After I was asked to submit my right hand for another 5 digit fingerprint deal, he voided my current visa and gave me back that passport, told me my new visa application was granted and to have a nice time in America. The interview was over, I stopped the stopwatch and the time elapsed from my number being called was......2 mins and 44 secs.

I'd waited almost 4 hrs in a room with 200 others for a session lasting 2m 44s. Mind you, as Daphne later reminded me, that was much better than waiting for 2m 44s and having an interview lasting 4 hrs. She's a glass half full type of person.

Finally I had to take a form with my name and address on it to that service desk within the waiting room where I arranged to have my visa stamped passport posted back to me within 3-5 working days.

"And how would you like to pay, sir?"

PAY !!! Hadn't they taken $131 off me for the interview process ? Couldn't they take the postage out of that ?

I guess not as I had to stump up another £14.60 to have my passport returned to me via courier. For £14.60 I hope they drive it up the M1 in a Rolls Royce and leave it in a gold plated box at my feet ! Jeez.

And that was it. All done. And here are a couple of photos taken by Daphne on the day.

First up is me in front of the US Embassy, or as close as you can get to it what with the tight security and the trees that they've allowed to grow to mask the building from prying eyes like Google Street View.


And the last one is of me sitting outside the Embassy trying to eat a KFC meal in a hurry as it was 1pm and I needed to be getting inside for my appointment. Guess I could've taken my time, eh ?


I wasn't stuffing the chicken in my mouth there but biting my nails to show how nervous I was at the time.

Now it's time to sort out travel insurance and then book my flight (return of course) to Florida for late October to late April.

Sorry Britain but you'll have to survive the Christmas musical efforts of Slade, Shakin' Stevens, Wizzard, Wham, Band Aid and worst of the lot, The Pogues, without me again.

Cause I plan to work off my Christmas meal lying on a beach.

I'm Just A Tourist- Let Me In.

Well the big day has finally arrived.

Ok the day BEFORE the big day has finally arrived but as I won't be here to blog on the big day, this will have to do.

My wart has gone, my photo has been taken, my paperwork is complete (I hope) and I'm off down to the US Embassy in London tomorrow to renew my tourist visa. Yes I know it should be no big deal and I should be in and out in no time but.............

My last interview of any kind was in 1973 when I came to Leeds to apply for an IT job with ASDA so I'm not exactly used to this kind of thing. Hey it's STILL an interview ok ! I'll be nervous. The outcome is pretty vital to me as without my winters in Florida, I'll wither and die. Or just be very cold like everyone else in the UK from Nov - April. I'll also have to endure the Christmas No.1. and reruns of the Only Fools & Horses Christmas special.

No, I MUST get that visa !!

So I got up at the crack of 7:30am to get my body used to this time of day and it doesn't like it. I'm not that impressed with it myself. I have to get up at an even crackier 5am tomorrow to get a 6am taxi to Leeds Coach Station to catch the 6:40am coach to London. That should get me (well us really as the very kind Daphne is going with me so that I can be naked going into the embassy) to London with plenty of time to walk the 300 yds to the embassy ! I'm NOT risking being late due to roadwords or leaves on the road.

Going naked might be slightly exaggerating things a bit but they really tell you that to get into the embassy, you must almost BE naked. No bags or backpacks or even slightly baggy trousers. No sharp toffees, ingrowing toenails or pointy teeth. No electronic devices like an mp3, a gps, a phone, a remote entry key fob or a pace maker. Not even a Harrod's bag.

Like I said, naked.

As the coach home doesn't leave till 7pm, potentially giving us several hours in the big city, I will be taking my camera. And that's where Daphne comes in. As well as providing non stop commentary on every tree, shrub and flower we pass on the way there and back, she'll be my wing man......or woman and hold my bits and pieces, so to speak, so that I can enter the embassy sans everything except my paperwork.

Visiting America for longer than 3 months at a time is a costly and time consuming business. Over £100 already and I've not left the house. Despite having half a rain forest of paperwork as proof of who I am (having a Twitter account now should help enormously) and that I'll really be coming back to the UK each time, they could still refuse my application for any number of reasons, none of which I have any power over.

The agent conducting the interview may have swine flu and be feeling miserable. He/she might not like people with beards. My aunt Mary failed that way. In my nervousness I might talk too much and admit I have a secret wife and 5 children in El Paso. They might just not like the fact that I can go for 6 months every year even though that's exactly what the visa allows me to do.

I can't do anything about these things. The kids need me after all.

I'll probably not sleep a wink tonight. I certainly won't sleep a wink on the coach with Daphne rabbiting on about wild lupins and the liklihood of seeing a palm tree in Leicestershire. Oh great. I'll probably be fast asleep just as my name is called for the interview and as Daphne will be outside holding my junk (cough, cough), I'll still be in there when they come to lock up for the day.

Then I'll be arrested for being on US soil without a visa !! Jeez.

So fingers crossed that the nice friendly people at the embassy will realise I'm a nice friendly Brit who just wants to be a warm tourist in Florida every winter. It's not much to ask for and our countries do have a 'special relationship' after all.

I'm hoping for some sign of it tomorrow but just in case, I've kept the receipt for the sun cream.

And if my next blog comes from Guantanamo, you'll know that I've spoken out of turn during the interview and it's not because I've gone there using my nice new visa.