A Day Away

So it is almost the end of the year and I am sitting down and writing something. I just have not done very much for a long time. So back again? I have missed my bit of bleak and today I got it in spades.

Today I took a deep breath and went to the seaside. I had been promisinging myself a trip like this sine we came back from Germany in August, unfortunately events had conspired against me. Finally today I managed to get out. I drove from Walsall along the M54 and on toward Shrewsbury. After following the ring road I headed toward Welshpool, stopping off for a bacon sandwich at Dinkys Dinah in it village of Ford. Sited on one of the laybys at the Welsh end of the Village, they do a mean bacon and egg sandwich and I was set up for the day.

I drove on into Wales and headed first to Welshpool and then on towards Dolgellau. I realised that my car a small engined Ford Ka really was not as happy with climbing steep hills as I had hoped, but it got me there. From Dolgellau I followed the Mawddach estuary to Barmouth. I love driving along these roads, I have to think and even change gear occasionally as you go along. From Barmouth it was a short run up the coast to Llanbedr and the left turn that takes you to over the railway line and passed the RAF station to the end of the causeway leading to Shell Island. You can go and park by the camp site, but I like to park up and walk across the causeway.


I suppose I should mention the weather at this point. During the drive, showery, was probably an optimistic turn of phrase. However as I had come down into Dolgellau and beyond it had brightened and the cloud base had lifted.

So having parked, I walked up along the causeway towards Shell Island and the beach. The causeway runs through a salt marsh and on this occasion the tide as high as I had seen it and channels on both sides were full of water and in places took the short cut across the road rather than flow through the drainage below.

Having made it along the Causeway and through the closed campsite, I reached the beach and sea beyond.

So I think this just about sums up the view. The wind was roaring in off the sea, though it was not very cold. The breakers were great and if I had been a surfer I might have looked further.

I start to walk along the beach and quickly realised I was the only person I could see. It was a calming realisation there was only me.

There were a number a birds scattered around almost oblivious to my presence, as long as I stayed out ot their way they were far more interested in the sea and what it could bring than they were in me.

After another couple of mins and at least one heavy down pour courtesy of the wind. I came across one my favourite birds a sanderling, and once I got my eye in I saw more bombing up and down on the surf line. I am always impressed by the way they just seem to keep going no matter what.

As I walked on I realised that the last shower was still going on after what seemed like an age. so when does a "shower " turn into just rain. So I carried on walking, all wrapped up warm and dryish inside. I eventually decided to head back and get the other side of me as windswept.

On way back I did pass and very determined man with a ruck sack going along the beach, and in the distance I saw a couple and their dogs. On the whole this was about me and blowing out cobwebs and getting back in touch with my " bit of bleak". By the time I got back the car, I was begining to get cold and I knew there were parts of me that the outside coverings had not qite protected from th eelements. It was time to leave and go home. "until next time"?

To My Father, Antony Levesley 1941 - 2011

What follows should explain itself.

To My Father

So where to start about Antony Levesley, my father. I suppose where I first remember him reading me stories tucked up in bed. Telling me of lands far away, how Odysseus outwitted the monsters and came home. We lay and listened and usually interrupted.

As I sat down to write this and reflect on how I knew my father 2 things came to me. My father liked his patterns, his routines, especially if they involved beer wine and family. For as long as I remember he played chess every week with his brother Fran. I understand his bacon sandwich at the golf club was a major weekly landmark also.

On the other hand he could and often would decide to do something. Why, most of us who followed on behind never quite understood. Recently he decided that Sky did not offer the service he wanted so he switched to Virgin.

How many cameras did my Father go through, let alone the ones he misplaced. He did like his gadgets.

One Easter Sunday many years ago, as the children lay sprawled around after Sunday lunch, he decided that we would all go to Beacon Park and play golf. He dragged us complaining all the way to the first tee. I would like to report that he showed us all how good he was and was able to pass on to his children his golfing wisdom and skills. Well once we had all hit a ball once or twice it became apparent that he was as rubbish as we were.

There is a thing about my father, it did not matter how good or bad he was at something, he would have a go and enjoy doing it. He did not care if he got it right. He would do his best and enjoy it whatever it was.

He did many things did my father. His job took him all over the world and when he came back he would tell us of what he had seen and done. My father had many adventures, few to be honest involved life threatening moments or true heroism. They were funny and warm accounts of the places he had been and they almost always involved the almost missed flight, missed boat, missed train.

I came back to Walsall and married and settled down. My father was always there for me, even when I did not need him and occasionally when I did not want him, but he was there. He was involved.

He always had an opinion and usually a story to go with it. He was very proud of all his grandchildren and wanted to be a part of their lives.

My father was to be honest rubbish at some things. He found it very difficult to be wrong, once he had made up his mind, he had decided and that was that.

Secondly, he was rubbish about telling people that he was unwell or hurt. I suppose if you think of the Black Knight in Monty Python, that was my father.

When he told me he had cancer, on top of his heart condition. I was brave and he carried on. He still played golf, he still went to Columbia for Christmas.

He wanted to be normal, to carry on. I saw him more and more of him, well he did offer to buy some of the beer. I became part of his routine.

It was when he said, he could not go out that I was really worried. I went around to his house and we sat and talked.

Two nights later he went into hospital and this time he stayed.

I sat with him on the Tuesday night and we talked and told each other stories. I held his hand while he lay tucked up in bed.

He was asleep when I left.

Visit to Pfander

Cable cars are splendid things, you float high above the ground, as you glide up and down mountains with little if any effort. They take you from one domain to the another, from lake side to mountain top. Today was the turn of Pfander, just inside Austria on Der Bodensee.

This was my first visit to Austria, another country ticked off the life list. The transition, from Germany, barely noticeable. We drove into the town of Bregenz from Lindau and followed the signs to the cable car. Once we parked the car we walked into the station, bought our tickets and waited for the next car to come down the hill. The walls of the station were full of pictures and text describing the history of the cable car in Pfander/Bregenz. The next car arrived and disgorged its outgoing cargo and we were ushered on board. There were 25 or so people on board and although it was full it was not squashed. Getting everyone on took about a minute and after another 30 or so seconds the doors closed and we were off.

The car travelled took us gently up the mountain passing over the houses of the rich and possibly even the famous of Bregenz. Away to our right the Rhine meandered along the valley from the high Alps to east and south towards its meeting with the Bodensee, linking Austria with west and north of Europe.

Pfander station sits just below the peak of this particular Austrian Alp and I even managed later on to walk up the path to the top and its small café come restaurant. Just out side the top of the cable car was a gift shop, a restaurant, a children’s play area, and lots of places to walk or just generally enjoy the view. A stunning view could be had looking in almost any direction. South into the Alps of Switzerland and east into Austria and so I am told Liechtenstein. North lay the high village and farms that conjure up images of Heidi and Johann Weiss. To the west lay the expanse of the Bodensee and the towns and villages clustered along its edge.

As I looked out across the mountains to the south and to the east from our vantage point the air is clear and crisp. The mountain tops are sharp, the temperature is slightly cooler than down in the valley by the lake but we are still warm. As I look down into the valley and across the lake, here is a haze, a slight blurring. I can see Lindau and Freidrickshaven on the German side, and it is like reading without my glasses, yes, I am getting old and I need to wear glasses to read. Is this the result of the proximity of the lake and the water evaporating off it or is it pollution or even a combination of both, I have no idea.

Just below the summit was a small, wildlife park, with examples of mountain wildlife such as Ibex and Moufflon that us tourists who pay such fleeting visits to the higher mountains would never see in their natural state. There was also a display of birds of prey. Unfortunately for us this took place in an arena surrounded by a high wooden fence and you had to pay extra to get in. As we arrived 20 mins after the start of the show we decided not to pay to see 10 mins. However as we went passed the enclosure a huge Griffon Vulture drifted up and out in a circle passed us and over the lake before returning to home, a reminder of what we had missed. Fortunately I had my camera out and got to take some pictures.

Once we had explored the shop and the wildlife park there was only one real option left, the restaurant and Ice Cream, Cake and coffee. So it was over priced, but the view was to die for. We could watch the tiny boats hardly moving on the water below, ever so often we could see a plane below us, turn and make its final approach to the airport.

It was all in all an afternoon well spent. All of us got plenty of exercise, well what do you expect walking up and around the top of a mountain. Tomorrow would be our last day before the long drive home.

Into Germany Part 2 Munich breakfast and Ammersee

We spent a two days of our holiday an old friend of my wife. Munich is about 2 hours drive from Lindau and following the sat nav we were brought to her apartment block with little stress and almost no arguments. We arrived in the early afternoon and after greetings and introductions we all piled into her car and set off for a spot of sightseeing in Munich. It was a Monday afternoon in the middle of August, we eventually found a car parking place and joined the crowds. It was a Bank Holiday in Munich and I think we had brought with us traditional British Weather, sunshine and showers.

We did the touristy thing wandered around the streets, listened and watched the buskers, string quartets and quintets, playing sections of Mozart and other classics we passed within range of a pair opera singers, sounding wonderful , their voices soaring over the crowd gathered around. I would like to tell you the piece, but my knowledge of opera is limited to say the least, but it sounded good.

The buildings were impressive, the Rathouse and the Marienplatz, resonant of centuries of municipal pride, the churches in various states of repair, especially the Frauenkirche, full of people respectfully taking the atmosphere.

We even were able to look at the Michael Jackson Memorial, wrapped as it is around the base of the statue to Orlande de Lassus on Promenadeplatz. No I had never heard of Orlande de Lassus before.

By the way as this was a religious holiday the 15^th August (Assumption of Our Lady) almost all the shops were shut. The only places open were the coffee shops and museums.

So I can window shop feigning reasonable interest for a while, with the other attractions keeping me reasonably happy My wife and her friend had several years of catching up to do so they could have been anywhere. Daughters one and two are probably in my league, so once we walked around the centre we needed a distraction, coffee and cake (spaghetti eis for the girls). This was proper coffee, black (for me) and strong, and a huge slice of lemon cake that sits in the warm glowing part of my memory.

After coffee, we continued our meanderings around the city, however one of the main advantages of shops is they keep young minds occupied as they look for something to spend their (insert the appropriate number of ) euros on. With little open attention waned rapidly, taking in the sights looses its appeal to both child one and child two.

So we headed back to the car and the more child friendly environment

The evening we ate in an Italian restaurant. Very good. I went to bed and slept contentedly

The next morning started with breakfast, a proper breakfast, that lasted over an hour, with cinnamon flavoured coffee, freshly baked rolls, ham, cheese, pate, eggs with spice and gentle conversation. The adults planned the day, the children sprawled around the room with various pieces of entertainment electronics attached , the 2 cats looked on at the interlopers with bemusement

We drove south from Munich towards the Ammersee and the villages around on its shores. As we drove out of the Munich conurbation we got to see more of the traditional Bavarian style of house with the high pitched roofs and the balconies full of flowers. As we got to the lake and we decided that the houses with their own private jetties were particularly attractive, our difficulty lay in deciding on which house to make an offer, obviously once confirmation of our Euromillions Jackpot had been confirmed.

I realise that this is a place where people, especially quite rich ones, actually live. Tourists are nice, but an afterthought and should be treated accordingly. We drove on around passing by a Museum dedicated to Lothar-Guenther Buchheim, who wrote Das Boot which was a TV series in the and then was made into a film released in 1981.

We stopped by a church with its golden cupola shining in the sun and walked down to the lake. We found a small jetty where some children were playing in the water. Surprising there was a small nod to the occasional tourist and a local couple had a kiosk selling drinks and homemade cakes. The plum flan was delicious and would have fed me and possibly 2 or 3 others. We sat on the grass in the sun watching the children playing in and on the lake.

As we drove on around the Ammersee all the houses looked big and lived in. This was not like the lake district, there were museums and churches to visit, but few if any trinkets and the tourist paraphernalia. You came to visit for the views and the piece and quiet and that is what the people who lived here wanted and they did not need to sell you things as they made more than enough money anyway.

We headed back into Munich and after a brief stop for the toilet we headed back to the Bodesee and our tent. I never did get to see the Olympic Stadium and the Beer Festival was still over a month away. Next time maybe

A holiday Into Germany

So after a long drive, we spent he best part of 10 hours on the road, we arrived at our site just outside Lindau in southern Germany. A quick look across the lake and I am told you can see Switzerland to the south, and Austria along the lake to the east. The site to my disappointment is set back to the lake in fact there are few places where there is direct (and free) access to the lake.

There are so many people here, it is organised, a small town, where all but the most private is to all intents and purposes carried out in public. I had my breakfast sitting outside, watching the world go by and then took the dishes to the shower block to wash up. This is normal, everyone does it so I am not unusual, it does seem the majority of washer uppers are men.

In all the camps we go to there has been a sense of calm, we are safe here, there is little if anything to hide or I suppose to protect. The camp is a place of adventure for children under 10 maybe 12. The most dangerous thing being the boys (and some girls) belting around on bikes with no regard. Coming around corners at high speed just missing the on-coming adult / even smaller child/ car. I remember when it was me I knew exactly what I was doing, I did not hit anyone I was too good.

Here my family especially my children can wander around and are safe a through back to those lauded golden ages when people could wander around popping into each others houses which never were locked and the tea flowed. Well this is the closest my children will ever get to that state of grace, my sublimely indifferent Daughters choose to stay, sprawled on their beds with their DS’s in hand dreaming of Blue hedgehogs.

The site itself is somewhere between a very large village and a small town in terms of the number of people there, there was a central shops with a couple of restaurants one Austrian themed the other Italian the semi ubiquitous pizza. They did good Pizza, but what they also did my wife saw on our first visit was spaghetti eis. It dragged her back to her youth in Hamburg, frequenting ice cream parlours with her friends. She stuck to the story. How to describe this dish, well I think the aim was to create Spag. Bol. in ice cream imagine if you will the spaghetti made from vanilla ice cream forced through a colander to create the spaghetti, covered in a strawberry/raspberry sauce with white chocolate as your parmazan. This was an immediate hit with my children and whenever we went out subsequently the menu was scoured for the delicacy.

Leaving France, Rivers, Fish and mountains

So Poissons or we thought Fish, a small and on the whole uneventful village not far from our campsite and the first proper village we went through on our way to Germany. Why we all wondered, Ford, River, Field I understand/get, I still struggle with Upper and Lower Slaughter, but Fish there is a river in there somewhere. OK there could have been a pond, but we missed it. I suppose this is a case of lost in translation.

Following our sat nav and the quieter roads we headed east and south, from France towards Germany and Lindau on the Bodenzee. As we travelled onward the architecture of the houses changed, A more alpine style of house prevailed with steep roofs. The Vosges mountains came towards us reminding us of their volcanic past and adverts for overpriced mineral water. The road flattened out, on of the highlights being a flock of storks in a field feeding. I would like to say that the girls were fascinated and pressed their noses to the window to see the spectacle unfold as we passed by. Grunts of “Yes Dad”, general indifference was fairly typical, well I suppose when you have to compete with Sonic the Hedgehog you are not on to a good thing. However both myself and my wife were impressed.

Following the D424 we came to the Rhine just after Markolshiem. As we passed a low slung hydro electric plant we crossed a bridge and found ourselves passing a picnic area, well there was a table and a couple of benches. We pulled over ate our lunch, more bread and ham and cheese, watching the traffic trundle by. I would like to rhapsodise about the place and tell you lots of interesting things, but there is nothing really to tell. It was a place between. So we got in the car and followed the road around and over the bridge into Germany.

I did try to explain the significance of the Rhine in the history of Europe, how it was the longest river in Western Europe and it represented a cultural and political border for over 2000 years. Both children looked up from their DS’s and condescended to provide their father with a look of, well, Dad is trying to tell us something, again, before returning to their true love. My wife smiled knowingly and drove on.

In France I have a general idea of what is going on, my schoolboy French is augmented by all those times it has been my emergency language, before resorting to pencil and paper or waving my hands in the air or maybe both at the same time.

Although I will admit to gaining a CSE grade 4 in German at school, thank you Mrs Hannan

I knew the difference, once we had passed the sign telling us that we were in a different country, the road changed, and he surroundings changed somehow it was different. Not like the change between England and France where there is and immediate change, here it was subtler but it was still different.

This was another country altogether this was Germany