Posts Tagged ‘travel’

It’s become all to easy just to sit here and not venture out once I’ve arrived. It’s a longish drive and if I pick up some essentials on the way, then I can just stay here for days without going much further afield than our local walking spots. Not that it isn’t lovely here with the start of the spring flowers in the back garden but it’s still nice to get out and actually do something. So, I checked the tide times at Blue Anchor Bay and decided to take Nora for a walk on the beach.

Spring garden primroses

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We dawdled along a bit because low tide wasn’t until after lunch. First we stopped off in Crowcombe on the A358. (Sometime, I’d like to make a point of taking every turning off this road between Bishops Lydeard, near here, and Minehead and visit all the villages in turn.) Anyway, Crowcombe. I drove through the village slowly admiring the cottages, the war memorial, the village store, the Carew Arms pub, the church, and Exmoor looking unusually clear in the distance. I wondered why I had settled in a funny, spread-out little hamlet rather than a place with such an obvious community.

Side door, church of the Holy Ghost, Crowcombe, Somerset

Hopping quickly out of the car, I did a quick turn around the church before driving on. And, as they often are hereabouts, it was rather fine. Small and dark, it smelled wonderfully of polishes for brass and wood. The floor is part ancient paving worn concave by generations of feet, part restored, and in part laid with the tombs of local gentryfolk.

tombstone dated 1743

The sixteenth century bench (pew) ends were particularly good. One is dated 1534, although the Roman numerals aren’t what we would expect now (MDXXXIV). But this was made at a time when little that was written was standard. To put this woodcarving into context, it was made in the year in which Martin Luther’s German translation of the bible was first printed, the year the Parliament of England passed the Act recognising the marriage of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, the year the newly created Church of England with Henry at its head separated from the Church of Rome, and the year that parts of the east coast of Canada were being discovered.

Bench end dated 1534

Then I drove on to Watchet. I’ve visited several times before and didn’t take any photographs. But I made a mental note to leave Nora in the car next time so that I can visit the Contains Art exhibition space properly. The town seems to be thriving. Five or six years ago a few of the little high street shops had closed down and there was a slightly tawdry feel about the place. Not so now, I was happy to see.

Then we finally got to Blue Anchor where Nora stayed in the car while I had lunch and then we had a good walk on the beach. I’ve written about Blue Anchor before so I won’t go into any detail here. It hasn’t changed. The beach is still as huge as always (Bondi eat your heart out), the Driftwood Cafe is still serving delicious fish and chips and great big pieces of cake. And there are still happy dogs running along the sand.

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While in the Blue Mountains, we drove about a bit and came across the pretty little town of Leura. Like many smaller places in New South Wales, the town looks mainly wooden-built. The original development seems to have been mainly between 1915 and 1940 and there is, of course, newer construction on the perimeter.

It’s a lovely little place with many shops that would have been interesting to have a proper look at, but as we got there rather late in the day, we had to make do with window-shopping. My purse thought that was a good thing though.

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Sydney Harbour is so vast and has so many bays that the seafront is miles and miles long and stretches from the city into the far distant suburbs. There are cliffs, woodland areas and parks, as well as wharves and industry, although less and less of the latter. We came upon water almost everywhere we went and here are a few of my impressions.

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beach 2 beach 3  beach 5 beach 6

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I hope people will not mind the lack of words. I seem to have few of them at the moment.

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Well, it’s been a while. For some reason, it’s been difficult to get back into the groove of blogging after my trip to Sydney to see the Boy.

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My impressions were too many to record here and also, I’m aware that I only visited a small part of a vast country. But here are some pictures of our time there.

Sydney –

Sydney Opera House

The wine growing region of the Hunter Valley –

crepuscular rays

Look closely and you’ll see some kangaroos grazing on the grass in the early morning.

Kangaroos in Hunter Valley

The evenings were just as beautiful, looking out over the darkening landscape.

Hunter Valley evening sky

The Blue Mountains –

road in the Blue Mountains

Gum tree up close

I’ve never seen so many trees (or so much fog or so many Art Deco buildings).

Blue Mountain lookout with waterfall

There were many reminders of the old country:

cake shop window

Back near Sydney: Palm Beach, where the TV soap Home and Away is filmed.

Palm Beach

I think this was a different Sydney beach. I slightly lost track of them all.

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And of course, Sydney Opera House: a little smaller than expected, with an extraordinary tiled roof that is simultaneously totally commonplace close-to and utterly spectacular at a distance.

Sydney Opera House at night

Normal service will be resumed shortly.

 

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Poor neglected blog

I’m down under visiting the Boy for the first time in two years. I’ll report back soon. In the meantime, here’s a glimpse of beautiful Sydney.

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If I want to impress visitors with just how special our little country can be, then Kilve, only 20 minutes away from the cottage, is always a good place to start. My kind-of-niece Z is staying, so I decide it’s about time we made another visit.

It’s a gentle walk to the beach from the A39 where we park in the free village car park opposite the pub. There’s another car park much nearer but it’s pay and display and it’s a shame to miss the walk which gives us a good snoop at the bungalows, Victorian houses and farmhouses that line the road.

Nora in Kilve graveyard

We briefly visit the lovely old church and graveyard overlooking a farmyard where a JCB is doing something that looks quite dangerous for the collie dancing by its side. “What’s a JCB?” Asks Z, who’s Canadian. “A digger,” I explain. “Why do we call them diggers?” asks my girl graduate… Hm.

Graves at Kilve

Door handle at Kilve church

Opposite the pay and display car park by the old retort, there’s a cricket match going on – that quintessential of all English pastimes. Kilve are playing Castle Cary and there’s blackboard inviting visitors to stop in and watch. We don’t – cricket is beyond me – I don’t mind watching it and love listening to it on the radio, but am incapable of explaining anything about it to anyone else. At any rate, the girls don’t look that keen.

Kilve v Castle Cary

So we set off on our walk along the path leading to the cliffs. Luckily the tide’s out so we go down and have a great scramble on one of the most remarkable beaches in the country.

Kilve from the cliffs

cliff top at Kilve

Kilve beach looking towards Minehead

Kilve is a designated Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI). I have written about it here and here so I won’t repeat myself. Suffice to say it is a place well worth a visit, even if you’re not interested in fossils. I’m not particularly, but am so happy when we stumble across some pretty big ammonites. I’ve never seen such good specimens before.

Nora and the ammonite

The girl and Z make a good duo of red-haired mountain goats climbing up the cliff and we shout to each other across a little natural amphitheatre in the rock strata, our voices sounding strangely close by.

girls and rock strata

girls walking on Kilve beach

Nora chases her tennis ball through tide pools full of seaweed, sea urchins and barnacles. She loses it and I replace it with a second one which I am wisely carrying. Then she loses that as well.

Dog in a rock pool

Earlier she proved herself trepidatious where water is concerned; unwilling to plunge into the pool formed by the stream that flows alongside the road into the sea. Not even the ball can encourage her to do more than dip in her toes.

Pool made by the stream

The light is theatrical: bright in one direction and gloomy in the other, emphasising the rock strata. We are lucky to completely avoid a huge storm that builds up in the uncharacteristic heat of the day.

Kilve beach looking into the sun

Then we go home and eat freshly-baked scones in the garden with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Pretty perfect, I’d say.

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While a great many multi-national corporations operate in Canada, on my trips to Vancouver to see my family, I’ve been noticing that a lot of fairly individual styles of shopfront and associated typography co-exist with the more modern global brands. It feels quite ‘small towny’, which makes it all the more charming, although I don’t imagine those I know over there will be delighted with me for saying so. No-one wants their lovely city described as that, but it is meant as a compliment.

I have a feeling that most of this atmosphere will be swept away by the rapid redevelopment that is taking place across the city. Sometimes, as in Yaletown, this has made huge modern residential areas out of what used to be mostly derelict land. Elsewhere, parts of the University of British Columbia campus are being developed for a mixture of student and other housing. Older single-storey shops are often dwarfed by the high-rise apartment buildings that grow up behind them. It feels like low-rise construction all over the city, from downtown to the residentials suburbs, will be gone in a few years to be replaced by something less individual. I hope this isn’t universal, as that would be a great loss to the city’s character, which is largely still one of small stores owned by individuals.

In one of the most down-at-heel areas of Vancouver – on the east side – there are still some really old and characterful signs advertising hotels that might be better described as ‘flop-houses’. Like most cities, Vancouver has its darker side and this is part of it. The streets are filled with down-and-outs, drug users and homeless people, and feels like it has been forgotten in a time-warp. A lot of lovely advertising signage from the 1950s remains here and some of it is really imaginative, even if rather dilapidated.

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Footnote: I called this post ‘Vancouver Old-Style’ because it’s the only city in Canada that I have visited a lot, so I don’t know whether the typographic phenomenon I’m observing is common to the whole country or just to British Columbia. I did once spend a month in both Montreal and Victoria on Vancouver Island, but it was a very long time ago before multinational companies, beyond maybe Kodak and Martini, were as ubiquitous as they are now.

 

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