I slipped and fell on adventure

So it’s a Friday night and you’ve had a couple of wines, and as you scroll through BBC news you watch a horrific and violent attack on elephants in India… with that vino empowered rage, and utter vindication for any action, you jump online and start searching for opportunities to be a HELP rather than a hindrance… you sign up in the wee hours of the morning… you SHALL volunteer with the elephants… You SHALL make a difference. Upon waking it is your realisation that you have, in some ways fortunately, signed up to an elephant sanctuary in Thailand, rather than India. But upon consideration, determine that all elephants are worth saving, regardless of their nationality… One should avoid prejudice, shouldn’t one? It is something that is going to happen in the future, another time… nothing to worry about. But the 10 months between signing up and D-Day flew by quickly… and suddenly there were four weeks until you fly to Thailand… and spend a week in the jungle… hiking every day an...

York York York… what can I say? The only reason this got on my itinerary was because of ghosts. Desperate to have a good ghost tour (something along the lines of that which I experienced in Edinburgh some 10 years ago), I jumped onto one of my online groups and asked the question… The resounding answer? “The best ghosts are in York!”… and so, York got not one, but TWO nights and a full day dedicated to it. Before I get your hopes up, the ghost tour itself was somewhat disappointing, well, not disappointing, just not as frightening as I’d hoped it to be. Good news though, there are another four or five ghost tours one can go on, so when I revisit in the not too distant future, I’ll be hitting up a different option. So this blog entry is less about ghosts and ghouls, and more about my new love affair that has displaced Bath from top position in terms of my favourite stop in the UK! I never thought that possible! The hub or York, where you’ll find all the museums...

I’d only intended to spend a quick night here, not thinking the whole Shakespeare thing was my thing… its amazing how little you know yourself sometimes. I was pretty exhausted by four days train, bus and taxi experiences, and three hours walking and stair climbing around Warwick Castle, and so decided to spend two nights in Stratford-Upon-Avon for a spot of respite, and am glad I did so. I’d intended to give myself a sleep in, but when I am travelling, sleep is not my friend. I was up and spritely at 7.45am, dressed, face washed, hopped down for a quick fancy breakfast then off and out, camera swaying to and fro at my abdomen. The photos can tell most of the story, the old town is almost dedicated to the bard, tudor buildings and higgildy piggidly gardens, the church where he is buried, the flagstone tiled pedestrian ways where he walked, and ofcourse the Royal Shakespeare Theatre where he… well, where he did nothing, its just named after him! There’s a warmth to the...

So… Stratford Upon Avon was NOT my next stop on the itinerary… rather it was Warwick Castle, however plans needed to change! I arranged my driver to get me to Stratford Upon Avon by noon, I then checked in (with a rather rude Romanian woman who advised that check-in wasn’t until 2pm… to which I responded that I just wanted to leave my bags here… to which she rolled her eyes at me… to which I stopped myself from giving her a quick head-bop!).  Long story short, bags were dropped and I struck out alone attempting to find a bus that would take me to the castle, and get me there before 1.30pm when my tour around the dungeons were due to begin. Fortunately… I found the right bus. Unfortunately this was the first day for this  bus driver on this route, so he didn’t actually know where Warwick Castle was or where to drop me off. Upon seeing what looked like a castle, I jumped off and wandered left and right, following intuition and signs and finally arriving at the ...

I couldn’t not come back to the UK without popping to the place I felt was my home as soon as I saw it some 11 years ago… and strangely, although I’d only been here once, I remembered each street and nook and cranny. Knew where the restaurant was I frequented a decade ago, found Jane Austen’s house with  ease. There’s really nothing to report about Bath, other than… well, its Bath. And anyone vising the UK must pop in a visit, its simply stunning, warm, welcoming and quintessentially British. The next day however… well… lets see. I’ve been anxious about collecting my hire car for some time, on the plane to the UK, while in London and especially the night before collection. They said you needed a current credit card under your name in order to get the keys. I didn’t have a CC – furthermore, I’m not the kind of person who should ever HAVE a CC! I’d called a week before and they reassured me my debit card would suffice, but… well… lets not forget my last travelling e...