Back to Blighty: August 1 - September 5 2015.

It's always tempting to comment on the changes you notice when you return to your homeland after a prolonged absence. So, not being great at resisting temptation, here goes.

1. Nobody used to overtake on the inside on motorways and if someone was hogging the overtaking lane they'd be flashed to pull over. For the first time I noticed this rule being broken, with drivers choosing to pass on the slow lane rather than challenge a lane hogger. Wonder why this has changed - fear of road rage reactions or laziness or overseas habits creeping in (Australians use the slow lane as a fast lane because lane hogging is so bad.)

2. The highways and byways were full to overflowing with ripe blackberries during our stay, yet we only saw one other person picking them - and that was just a chap on his way home from work having a taste while he walked. We picked kilos of them, much to the amusement of our various friends and family upon who we bestowed the excess bounty.

3. The dreaded dog-poo bags have hit the UK too, with the same silly human response that we've noted elsewhere; that dog owners invariably do the right thing while people are watching, collecting deposits with little black bags, but then a lazy few then completely undo any good by hurling the offending bag into the bushes or beside the path. Now I'll accept that some might be walking back that same way and will pick up the bag then but this obviously hadn't happened with the bags we saw littering otherwise pristine Scottish highland walking paths or the Yorkshire moors. Yuck.

4. Food standards continue to improve, but this time prices have risen too.

5. Economically the whole country appears to be bustling and busy, even in quieter rural and regional areas. Building and development everywhere - with attendant price rises the only downside.

6. Half the country seems to be gluten intolerant. Seriously, it's out of control! Although, to be fair, several folk we visited who are now avoiding gluten suspected there had been a problem for many years but only had a official diagnosis without the last 5-10 years or less. Is this a new issue or simply a sign of greater awareness? Let me know if you have answers/theories.

7. Cheesy chips are out and sweet potato chips are in.

8. Oversized, under flavoured coffees are slowly being replaced by smaller, stronger coffee and the hipster trend towards single-origin brews and coffee "science" is slowly emerging; it's one of the few areas where Melbourne is ahead of the game and I was shocked by how much of a coffee snob I've become.

9. The Essex accent has taken over England's south east; Victoria Beckham has a lot to answer for. Innit.

10. We were really lucky with the weather we had in Scotland and were happy to pay relatively high accommodation costs to explore an area I'd never visited and John had previously enjoyed, but we fully understand why most of our fellow travellers were foreigners and why most Brits tend to go south, lured by cheap package deals and predictable sun and warmth.

11. I never realised so much of the uk's national parks and woodlands were privately owned. The benefit to the nation is that the cost of upkeep is largely born by the (presumably rich) owners. The downside is relying on them to do the right thing; maintenance standards are covered by legislation but not sure how effective policing is. While I have mixed feelings about walking the gorgeous Yorkshire moors surrounded by shooting ranges and teeming with specially bred pheasant (and grouse?), birdsong punctuated by the sound of distant gunfire, I applaud the move towards replacing plantation timbers with mixed deciduous trees.

12. You can get cider with 10-12% alcohol. Scary.

13. Hipster culture seems universal - beards, skinny jeans, check flannel shirts, retro cool, micro breweries, fixie bikes, fair trade stuff, VW Kombis and espresso coffee are tropes repeated throughout the western world.

14. Shopping is a lot less fun since globalisation took hold. Same stuff in same stores everywhere.

15. Cyclist in the UK are very brave, not just in city traffic; I wouldn't ride down those narrow country lanes on a bike. Still England's recent cycling successes have spawned a huge rash of riders out and about, with the inevitable angst rising between cars and bikes. Be interesting to see how the tension is resolved.

This is all in addition to the general news of the day – horrific issues facing refugees fleeing Syria and elsewhere, and the often polarising responses this provokes in nations already feeling the strain from constantly growing populations. Britain feels very full when you're in traffic, but still looks very empty when you fly over it and see all the green spaces between the towns and villages.

It was glorious driving into Ely and Salisbury and seeing the respective cathedrals standing proud as the tallest building over the surrounding city; a very rare sight in Australia, which could learn a lot about regionalisation and compact, low-rise dwellings from Britian.

And of course all this is secondary to the main event that drew us to England - my niece Tegan's wedding to her long-time partner Chris Smart. What a wonderful day, with their four children and many siblings and friends forming the bridal parties. And Tegan's dad, my brother Andy, making his first day visit from hospital since he went in for a 'simple' operation in January. Great to see him up and walking – he has since progressed to walking without a stick – and even giving a speech ... with impromtu jokes included! Huge progress, but still many challenges ahead.

We managed a 10-day loop around the country, taking in as many friends as we could contact and fit in, from Ely and Ipswich to Yorkshire and Scotland, Wales, the Cotswolds and Devon. Apologies to those we didn't see; with luck the next visit, though shorter, won't be too far away and I hope we catch up then.

Thanks to all for your time, hospitality, generosity and patience with the often-fluctuating plans. We had a ball and we'll soon be back for more.

Rooibos and razor wire

It's a good thing we can't afford long-haul flights too often because, without the excitement and novelty factor, it would be pure drudgery.
Airport by 4.30am. It's not often I'm waiting for a coffee shop to open at 5am. 6am flight to Sydney. At 11.30am we're back, flying over Melbourne having completely wasted 5+ hours. Ah well, at least the views over the snowfields were spectacular. The next 13+ hours were all over water and cloud, which was still ok to watch, but near-neighbours got grumpy with the light reflecting on their video screen so down the blinds went.
Watched the Second Marigold Hotel but for once there weren't many films on offer that appealed. Although did catch an episode of the excellent Open Slather comedy show on Foxtel, which we don't have. Crafty lot don't even allow it on YouTube.
Finally a peek under the blind revealed a spectacular mass of red-brown hills – probably somewhere over KwaZulu Natal – and we landed on African soil. A first for both of us.
Huge queues for passport control then customs was a poster on the wall, one guy in uniform and another guy wandering around baggage control with a sniffer dog.
Dagmar's excellent directions got us and the hire car home and we were introduced to Life Behind the Razor Wire.
Rioting in the streets might be a thing of the past but security is probably still the No.1 industry in SA, possibly followed by domestic help. Around here the streets are dotted with little wooden guard sheds where security guys camp out overnight, doing street patrols.


Life on the Wild Side

So after five days in the Jo'burg urban jungle, we headed out bush (or bushveld, should I say) and have had five days in Kruger National Park, plus a day or two getting here via the Blyde Canyon Park. Latter was very reminiscent of the Blue Mountains in the pinnacle and other formations and it was good to finally get out and do some walking; people drive everywhere in town. White folk, anyway.
Our Joburg host Dagmar does go for a run every morning after dropping of Kayda at school (7am at bus stop for 7.45am start - finish at 2pm then compulsory extra curricula stuff (sport etc) and optional homework classes) but only because she had the dogs with her. Even mountain-bikers have been ambushed and robbed of their bikes in the area.
As it turned out the walking was short-lived because in Kruger you can't get out of your car while you're in the main bit of the park – only in camps and a few designated bird hide or other viewing areas – sooooo frustrating for plant and bird nerds who wan to get a closer look at stuff. But an interesting take on viewing animals; the humans are in the cages and the animals free to roam.
And it can be particularly reassuring when you have a mature African elephant bearing down you, ears flapping and not looking too hospitable. Then even a tinny Ford Ikon feels a bit insubstantial. So far they've all been bluffing though. Or completely unfazed by your presence.
We've been lucky enough to see heaps of different animals so far – about 25 mammals, heaps of crocodiles and a couple of snakes, plus about 70 bird species. Yes, I've been counting. Nerd.
What we're hoping to see more of when we head to the southern park of the park today is cats; so far only one leopard and that was at a distance and frankly I missed it until a couple in another car pointed it out. The north is hotter and drier (we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn to go to one camp, Shingwedze) and the landscapes are dominated by Mopane scrub – rather attractive semi deciduous trees that stay stunted on the plains but reach 5-8m along water courses, with butterfly-shaped pairs of leaves that turn gold and russet-brown in the dry winters, creating a colourful vista across large expanses. There are also mahogany trees (tall, dark, ancient looking things) luminous-green fever trees, darker leadwoods, classical African-looking "flat tops" and prickly acacia species.
Apparently there is more open grassland (veld) down south, so you get larger herds of animals and they have fewer places to hide, so spotting is easier.
Mind you, we've seen herds of 100+ water buffalo, groups of 30 or so elephant, and similar-sized herds of zebra and impala.
We've come enticingly close to the great, grey-green greasy Limpopo, famously all set about with fever trees; we'd have to go a bit further north to actually see it. And we've looked across the mountains to Mozambique but no time to visit (and no visa).
While the actual springboks are only found in the west of the country, we've seen the Springboks lose at rugby to Australia and NZ (and discovered rugby is still a whites-only sport - soccer is the sport of blackfellas, and the top two teams come from East and West Orlando in Soweto – the Kaiser Chiefs and the Pirates – so huge but friendly rivalries). We've met some lovely folk of all colours and so far not been ripped off or felt threatened – although there was a bully of a boer shouting at the staff here yesterday who I felt like tackling but thought it would probably only make matters worse.
Prices are VERY low, especially anything that requires labour, and for food and drink. You can get a good bottle of wine for $5-$10, and a great meal from $3-$10. Our cheapest has been chicken livers and pap (maize done like polenta but white) with salsa in Soweto for a coupla dollars and the most expensive a 350g steak and the works in a resort for $11. Accommodation can be more expensive because many places charge per person, rather than per room, but it's still lower than Australia (we've averaged $200 per night in Kruger, including conservation fee charges). A double at the Soweto backpackers is about $40.
Housing is also incredibly cheap (a friend is selling a huge four-bed home overlooking the city on three titles for about $250K. Can't buy a one-bed flat for that in Melbourne.) But forget coming over here for your next real estate investment - you can't take more than a certain amount out of the country. And I'm not sure Joburg is a desperately healthy place to live. Dagmar says a lot of people here suffer from sinus problems, possibly due to the cold, dry air, but I think more likely due to the brown cloud of pollution that hangs over the city; coal and wood fires are still the main form of heating for most people and there's no apparent regulation of car/truck exhausts.

The great divide

So I had written a long blog about life in Jo'burg but I've lost draft twice now. Stupid Blogger.
It's quite confronting being hidden away behind high walls topped with razor wire and electric fences, watching young black kids cycle around happily on the other side. Our host, Dagmar, did tell us it was OK to walk around outside during the day but not at night. And some areas she wouldn't go to at all.

After 10 years Dagmar is leaving, partly because of the constant stress of security and lack of freedom. She's endured at least one armed robbery and has had her house completely stripped of everything by a gang who tied up her maid and daughter and held them at gunpoint.
However we felt totally safe on our tour of Soweto and regularly left the group of 8-9 bikes to wander off and explore a sight or to eat. But then we were with locals and I also felt quite uncomfortable riding down some of the narrower laneways between the older shanties, which were set up a men's quarters for workers – women weren't allowed near the place; now a family lives in a room that once housed eight men – some families have two rooms. Still not great but better, although I don't think I could cope with the communal toilets they have in those areas. And foul-smelling water running down some lanes, suggesting the sewerage needs an overhaul.
In other parts of Orlando – over towards where Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela's former homes are – the houses are quite modern and substantial and there are now big European cars in the streets.
Then there's the conundrum of the six or more huge four-storey apartment blocks, newly built to great fanfare in the past five years, which are still standing empty because, according to our guide, no-one can afford the rent of R800 a month. That's $80. He says R400 would be ok. There are obviously people in the area with more money than that but now all the apartments are going to waste, vandalised with broken windows and locked up behind high security fences and guarded from squatters. Doesn't make any sort of sense and I wonder if it's not more a political football behind the obviously quite well organised locals, who've boycotted the place en masse, and the government.
Poverty line income is I think about R1000 a month, and nearly 50% of the population live below that. Unemployment is at least 25% and worst for men aged 16-35, esp if you're black. There are people at every junction selling stuff or asking for donations for keeping the place safe; sae with parking your car – someone will come running up and offer to 'protect' it for a small consideration. There's no intense threat behind it and you pay when you leave (about R2-5 ($0.25-$0.50) will do) but it's the only income a lot of people have. The divide between rich and poor is greater here than anywhere else in the world, apparently.
Many sleep on the street and there are little shanty shacks everywhere, even along the side of the motorway.

Update
We saw three leopards and two lion sightings, including a family of about six with a few cubs and females right at the side of the street. Trouble is, there are in those cases about 20 other car-loads of people trying to see and the resultant crazy traffic jam detracts from the joy a little. Ah well. Got to see several rhino up close on the other side of the fence at our last stop – including a family of three – without having to share with anyone. Wonderful.
Flying to UK tonight. Red-eye special. Not looking forward to it but will be great once we're there. See you soon!!!

Blighty Pt II

or, Exploring Devonian History

Over 70-plus days of travel, I probably misplaced my glasses about 70 times. Maybe more. Such is the state of my brain nowadays.

As quiet as always, Brixham.

Yet returning to Brixham, Devon, after more than 20 years, was like pulling an old memory out of its dusty, timber box, brushing it off a bit, and discovering it still worked as good as new. I managed to navigate easily to my friends’ house and remembered the names of nearly all the pubs on the walk from there to the town centre. Which is quite amazing considering the amount of partying that took place at each of them in my youth.

Best of all I found that Nicky and I still had the same chemistry that made us instant mates at Uni, and that John is still as laid-back and fun as the day they married.

Still, Brixham in 2012 is a very different place to the one I last visited over New Year’s Eve 1989-1990. Not least of all because at least four of the old drinking buddies from then are now dead, and it’s fairly safe to say that heavy drinking and smoking played a role in each of their deaths. That’s a sure-fire way to get you thinking about your health and mortality….

Along the new harbour walk, Brixham.

We discovered, in Brixham as elsewhere, the ban on smoking in pubs has seen a lot of ‘locals’ struggle to stay open and they have had to reinvent themselves to stay viable. Beer gardens for smokers is one answer, but many have also pulled up the sticky carpet, replaced the pool table and darts area with dining tables, and transformed themselves into country inns offering meals and accommodation, rather than just bars for the old boys.

As I mentioned last post, the good news is that the food served in most of these seems to be pretty good, and reasonably well priced, too. In fact, after returning to Aus and being reminded of prices in Melbourne, we found that British pubs are now better value than many Aussie ones, especially the trendy inner-city ones, where you can pay the same for a pot (under half a pint) as you do a full pint in the UK. Brit pub grub was definitely cheaper and more interesting, too (despite “Cheesey chips” - which are pretty good, but not so good that I'd risk blocking my arteries by going back for more...).

In Aberystwyth – which used to boast 44 pubs and 40 chapels – I noticed at least four pubs had become restaurants or shops, including the one where I used to pull pints, The Farmers Arms.

Valerian growing on Slapton Sands

Back in Brixham, we replaced  pub crawls with exploring the great outdoors and it was excellent rambling around the countryside while being able to tap into John and Nicky’s vast knowledge of the bird and plant life in their favourite haunts, such as Slapton Sands (reached by catching the ferry across the Dart, which was fun) and up on Dartmoor, where the resident ponies made a mockery of the tag “wildlife”.  The ones snuffling into people picnics and plates of pub food that we saw seemed completely domesticated – but that’s easily said when you’re only feeding them, not trying to harness and ride them, I guess.

Cheeky Dartmoor ponies enjoying lunch al fresco.

We were thrilled to hear a couple of cuckoos calling (a first for the summer and the only ones we heard in the UK, as it turns out) as well as seeing my first stone chat and being treated to a close up view of a buzzard – one of the birds I barely remembering seeing in the past, but which is incredibly common now. As too are Red Kites, which have increased from only seven breeding pairs (near Aberystwyth when I was at Uni there) to being sighted and breeding right across the UK – even down near Southampton.

Buzzard obliging with a pose.

Probably because I now have more interest in wild flowers, but also because we were visiting earlier in the year and after good rain, I also noticed far more varieties on the many walks we enjoyed across the country. It is probably also due to EU support for farmers to allow parts of their land to remain fallow and be returned to habitat for flora and fauna, and partly fashion – wildflower meadows are now very trendy for gardeners, as well, which is good news; a wildflower-inspired garden was even included in the Chelsea Flower Show, which was on while we were in the UK. (No, we didn’t go - tickets sell out months in advance and you have to enjoy close encounters with large crowds to endure it; I don’t. We did enjoy the nightly TV coverage though.)

My serene mother surrounded by mad family.

After seeing south and central Dartmoor with Nicky and John, we explored some of the northern section with my family during our three-day stay in a large, YHA-owned mansion overlooking Okehampton. The whole extended family of siblings, nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews came along (except poor Kerris, who had to work) and had a brilliant time sharing massive cooked breakfasts, endless games of hide and seek (so good in a big house), attempts at bonfires (after weeks of rain and while being attacked by clouds of midges), post-kids-bedtime drinks, movies, shopping trips, walks – and gorge scrambling.

A dry-ish walk.

Gorge Scrambling involves donning a wetsuit, old runners, life jackets and helmets and wading upstream through raging gorge streams, stopping only to jump into a few deep (and very cold) pools along the way. Actually, I don’t think the streams are usually raging – which is why the YHA organisers said it was safe for kids over 6 to go – but after several days of torrential rain, they were pumping.

A couple of smaller kids from another group were terrified from the first moment of setting foot in the icy water and, having braved 20 minutes or so, gave up. But our brave Keira and Sophie, both aged only 7 and each weighing less than a cream puff, stuck it out for the full hour or more and went back time and time again to jump into pools from increasingly high rock ledges.

A gorge-scrambling group (not us).

Needless to say we all went home and had hot meals and showers, but it was great fun.

Sadly three days went way too fast but it was certainly better than nothing. And I discovered that I could make a 45-minute phone call from my (borrowed Nokia N9) mobile phone to the kids in Australia using a regular pay-as-you-go Sim card – and it cost barely more than a pound sterling.

Next stop was Wales and we barely got through before flooding closed a few roads, but more of that next time.... 

Barely relevant Devonian facts

William of Orange (later William III of England and Holland and King Billy II of Scotland) landed in (invaded) Brixham on 5 Nov 1688 (the day after his 38^th birthday) and declared: “The liberties of Britain and the protestant religion I will maintain.” This is the famous William who married his first cousin Mary II and later defeated Mary’s father James (Britain’s last Catholic monarch) at the Battle of Boyne in 1690. It is one of the few reigns in which both partners were seen as equal rulers. We celebrated Queen Elizabeth’s 60^th jubilee in Brixham, to complete the regal circle.

Parachuting Rat, Banksy-style. 

Brixham has an active Banksy fan who keeps busy adorning local walls with stencilled images copied or inspired by the graffiti artist Banksy.

A 15” naval shell was presented by the National War Saving Committee to the people of Widecombe (on Dartmoor) in 1920 in recognition of their efforts during WWI gathering sphagnum moss for use in the treatment of wounds.

Widecombe-in-the-Moor is the site of the fabled Widecombe Fair, to which “Uncle Tom Cobley and all” rode on the grey mare (see words of song here). There’s a display based on this in a corner of the local church, St Pancras, which also has a poem inscribed on one wall relating the tale of how the church and congregation were struck by lightening one Sunday in 1638, killing several people. The incident was put down to a visitation from Satan himself….

The crew off to Widecome Fair...

Clapper Bridge - eons old - on Dartmoor.

My 'Uncle' Mike's house - also in Devon, and with new roof - decorated for Jubilee.

Tiny grassland flowers, Dartmoor. Saw them in Lake District too.

Playground in Okehampton; a goodie.

Bracken Tor, the YHA house we rented in Devon.

Blighty Pt 1

Aberystwyth in flood, the morning after we arrived.

Rumour has it that the ‘summer’ function failed to install on the UK hard drive and the Bureau of Meteorology recommended “turning it off then turning it on again”. Consequently, after a couple of sunny weeks in May we were thrust back into winter again for a while before the sun returned a few days ago, when the mercury finally hit 20C for the first time in weeks.

Of course, now that summer seems to have found its feet at last*, we now only have a week left in the UK before heading home to work, midwinter, and warring children (‘I feel like all I do when I go home is clean’, complained Rhiannon of her non-house-trained brother – ‘welcome to my world’, I thought). Hmmmmm, so much to look forward to.

Luckily, our travels weren’t too seriously impaired by the weather and we’ve managed to fit walks and sightseeing in the dry bits between storms, which were endured from warm, welcoming friends’ homes and various licensed establishments.

Walking up Winchester Hill with mum and dad.

Our three days on the Isle of Wight, for example, were wonderfully sunny and warm and we swam in the sea twice (surrounded both times by wetsuit-clad locals who looked askance at the weird foreigners). At the time we were more worried about the dangers of Weever / Weaver Fish, for which we’d seen warning signs but without description or details of the actual threat. Did they bite you, brush against you with poisonous tentacles or stab your feet from below?

To be on the safe side, we shuffled into the water and only flapped around for a few minutes before retreating once more. So much for the tough, fearless Aussies…

Bumblebee at work.

http://www.marine-conservation.org.uk/weaverfish.html



One of the fritillary butterflies.



Keeping up the colonial spirit, we tried to redeem ourselves by laughing in the face of bumblebees, sauntering past squirrels and even walking past a hornets nest (before we were told what it was, anyway).

It seems the British countryside is under threat from all manner of attack – mites that defoliate Horse Chestnut trees, phytophthera fungi that is killing off spruce trees – and there is much concern about the apparent imbalance in the bird populations: some raptors have doubled in numbers while sparrows are scarce and we noticed far more finches than normal. Lovely to look at but no-one can quite figure out why some species have see such monumental population shifts.

At the cricket with Nick and Abi

However it was wonderful getting my feet back on chalk downs; they felt right at home there among the cowslips and bluebells, and we even saw a few orchids. The Needles on the Isle of Wight were surprisingly impressive and even the painfully touristy bits were good in their own way.

One wonderful discovery we’ve made on this return visit is how much English pub and restaurant food has improved. Local food producers are well supported by both shops and restaurants and, as a result, a lot of newcomers have joined the movement, making great cheeses, smoking locally grown meat and fish, keeping bees, growing a wider range of vegetables, fruit and herbs and making lots of interesting condiments as well as yummy meals. As we’ve noticed in Australia, this has been matched by a renewed interest in heritage breeds of cattle and varieties of fruit and veg, and in ‘rural’ crafts, such as coppicing timber, hedge laying and dry-stone walling.

A great beer-veg swap idea...

A map on the wall of a pub we loved in Godshill (IoW) showed how far all the produce used in the kitchen had travelled, which included eggs from chickens 20m away in the back garden up to 8.5 miles, which was how  far the lobster and crab had come from the harbour.

Fixing my gardening addiction with Claire.

Having just planted out my first garden allotment in Australia, I was interested to see the many different allotment schemes around England, most of which have larger plots of land but fewer shared assets.

I was disappointed with the Australasian section of Wisley gardens though, which has a few Eucalyptus trees, an Alyogyne, a couple of grevilleas and some NZ pittosporums, but the rest of the garden was excellent. Callistemon (bottlebrushes) and grevilleas are by far the most common Aussie plants to be seen in gardens, with a few scaevola in hanging baskets.

Stowell Park with Neil.

Poor John has been dragged around many gardens over the past few weeks, all with good grace and only occasional frustration. On the Isle of Wight we visited a National Trust-run property that has been experimenting with growing warmer climate and southern hemisphere plants in preparation for climate change; in the Cotswolds we were given a personal tour of Stowell Park’s gorgeous hilltop garden by Lady Vestey’s head gardener, Neil (the walled kitchen garden includes five 20m-long rows of asparagus – droooool); and up in Alnwick (pronounced Annick, apparently) we explored the relatively new garden created by the Duchess of Northumberland, which is set up as a charity and includes dozens of water features and a poison garden. Add to that all our friends’ gardens and dozens of hedgerows, woodlands, coastal downs and moors, and we’ve seen a fair range of Britain’s spring and early summer vegetation on this trip.

Silver leaf.

Great to see British wildflowers in such profusion, both in the wild and within gardens.

OK I’ll end here and add in some photos, then in future blogs I’ll describe some of the other beautiful corners we’ve explored – the Cotswolds, Wales, Devon, the Lake District and Norfolk – plus some of our general observations on how the UK is evolving after being away for seven years.

Butterfly orchid.

The nudist end of Sandown Beach, IoW.

Flags out for Jubilee celebrations, Burford.

Asparagus patch, walled garden, Stowell Park.