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When it comes to travel, it’s the business

June 21, 2017 by Fran 1 Comment

Whilst not quite having the romance of train travel, getting to the UK any way other that jet propulsion would be quite an undertaking. As much as I love riding the rails, the distance between Sydney and Manchester might be too much even for me.

So, an airplane it is, and all the associated rigmarole this brings. Checking in online. Getting to the airport hours before you are due to fly. The pain that is airport security. Not that I think we should reduce this security, not for a moment, but, you have to admit, it is a bloody painful process.

Working your way through lines that snake around those mobile barriers. All the while, some little kid is lifting up the spring loaded barrier and unclipping it, throwing the queuing system into disarray.

Once you have negotiated this, you then have the screening. Ensuring you have no liquids in your bag. Scratching your head and wondering of this is one of the airports that make you remove your iPad from your carry on, remove your shoes, belt, or even your watch. You then go through the scanner yourself, only to beep and suddenly remember the erroneous 10 cent coins rattling around deep in your pocket.

Survive all this, and you still have to negotiate the retail hell that has become all but the tiniest airports. You are deposited into the duty free stores, which are harder to navigate than IKEA on a Sunday morning. With thirteen after shave samples, on those little cardboard strips, in your pocket, all you want is a cold beer. Where has the pub gone? It has been given a facelift, a very modern name, and is now a gastro-wine-artisanal-microbrew-resto-eating establishment.

By the time you eventually get your beer, you have to down it rapidly, as the announcements start that your gate is open, and plane ready for boarding. So you skull your beer, and run to the other side of the airport, where your gate is located, only to find that your plane isn’t in fact boarding. Yet every passenger has decided to start queuing in anticipation, even though everybody has a seat booking, and a boarding card that proves it, and will all get on the plane. Eventually.

You know you are going nowhere fast. You would have had time for a few more ice cold pints, a burger with hand cut chips, and a bag of pork scratchings. Now you are going to have to settle for a dry bread roll, and a little aluminium tray with a scrawny chicken sausage and a cheese omelette with a splash of brown water in a plastic cup, masquerading as coffee, whilst having yourself elbowed from both sides, and trying to drown out the screaming child in row 44. Oh the joys.

Unless. You accept the airlines very generous email offer to upgrade to business class. And so this is what we did. I have never before been offered a reduced rate upgrade. Having had the opportunity to experience the delights of business class previously, with Singapore Airlines, I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. No sir.

Whilst the above describes the Sydney to Doha flight (15 plus hours), what followed, for the Doha to Manchester flight (approx 8 hours) could not have been more different. Champagne upon boarding. An a la carte menu. From which food is served on demand. On a crisp white table cloth. With wines expertly matched. And a seat that fully reclines into a flat bed for your post lunch nap, with a real pillow, and thin duvet. Not that I did much sleeping. I was far too excited to sleep.

As I finished off the last of the cheese board, I totally forgot that I had flown around the world, over the last 24 hours, as we slowly descended into Manchester. Going home, in economy, just won’t be the same. All suggestions of best way to snag an upgrade are most welcome.

We laughed, we cried, we hugged

July 22, 2017 by Fran Leave a Comment

However long you are away from family and friends, by the time you have had the first sip of your coffee (French press, not instant. Mum is a fast learner), or a couple of swigs of that first real pint of Timothy Taylor’s (do any other ex-pats miss real British ale?), it is as though you only saw them yesterday. Is that the same with everybody?

In fairness, I had only been gone just shy of 2 years, but it is the longest I had been gone from the UK since landing in Australia back in August 2012. I had somehow found myself going back each year, a pattern that stopped last year when it was decided a “proper” holiday was needed.

Let me explain that. Not that going to the UK isn’t a holiday. But it is not the most relaxing holiday. To fit everybody in, and give yourself chance to see everybody, the time spent needs managing with military precision. Which is achieved to great effect by my now fabled spreadsheets. I may be a project manager by trade, and this comes in handy when scheduling my days overseas. Needless to say, each trip has been more successful as result. In my opinion.

So after a hiatus last year, spent on the west coast of USA and Canada, it was time to visit England again. Time to dust off the spreadsheet, and get planning. I have some catching up to do. Little nephews and nieces grow up fast, I’m finding.

Landing at Manchester, under blue skies, on a mild June lunchtime, we were only a short 40 minute drive over the Pennines, into Yorkshire. No matter how many times I do it I always feel a glow of pride when passing the border with Lancashire, and see the white rose of Yorkshire marking entry to one of the most beautiful places on earth. I have a passport now that proclaims I am Australian. But first and foremost, I am, and always will be, a Yorkshireman.

According to the spreadsheet, we had 13 nights in England, to see and do everything we had missed out on the preceding 2 years. The clock was ticking. No time for jet lag on the first day, as the top priority was to get a good Indian curry, something that is inordinately difficult in Sydney. Yes, we have curry houses, but can they do a good curry? The jury is still out. And on the same night, there was a football World Cup qualifier on. England versus the auld enemy, Scotland. Football at a normal time. Imagine that! Until you have spent 4 seasons bleary eyed from watching football at all hours from midnight, through to 4am, you won’t really appreciate how this feels.

And that folks was day 1. Done. Just like that. Only 12 nights left. And now do you see the need for a spreadsheet? You see my predicament? Not only do we have lots to do, every day, and every evening, but we have to navigate it after traversing multiple time zones. My eyes tell me it is 10pm. My head tells me it is sometime after 6am. On the FOLLOWING day. Good luck getting any sleep.

And this is how it is, going overseas (do some people say “abroad”?) from Australia to Europe. But those 12 nights, they will soon be 11. Then 10. And so on. Time to crack on and see what is next in the spreadsheet.

Last time I was in the UK, back in 2015, I was treat to the BBQ of all BBQs. I mentioned it in a blog at the time. The belly busting portions of food, and a quiche that would win first prize in any quiche contest. If such a thing existed. So, when promised a BBQ this time around, albeit with a different chef, I jumped at the chance. I drooled at the thought of everything that would be going on the BBQ. Cooking off the snags, and replacing them on the large, sizzling, hot grill with steaks. Throwing on some corn, and making room for some chicken. And then…

I had heard it was a small BBQ. I didn’t realise it was a BBQ for a hobbit. One hobbit. One very small hobbit, even by hobbit standards. Good lord, “this could be a very long night”, I thought. I definitely had not had my expectations set. I think plying me with extremely large Aperol Spritzes was a deflection tactic. I have never seen a magnum of prosecco disappear so fast.

And yet, we had a bloody fantastic evening. In no small part to the food that miraculously appeared from the kitchen, and wasn’t reliant on the behemoth that was our BBQ. We had a veritable Spanish feast, eating drinking, laughing into the small hours. This is why we travel 24 hours across the world. Priceless moments.

Did someone say tapas?

Talking of priceless moments, I also found myself doing something, twice, that I wasn’t sure would ever be on one of my spreadsheets. The school run. Yes, you read that right. Uncle Fran did the school run. It was insisted upon. No mummy, you can stay at home. Just me and uncle Fran today. So there I was, slightly dusty after another fantastic family catch up, slightly cold having to go out in the morning drizzle without a coat (I was on holiday! Who packs a coat for their holidays?), and saying hello to Mr Varley, the lollipop man. Wonders never cease.

There have been a number of traditions created through my visits home, and my waistline fought valiantly to get through them all whilst back. The obligatory breakfast at Wetherspoons, which I somehow managed to do on three occasions, fish and chips (if I had to have a last supper, this would be it), the aforementioned curry, mouth watering sausage butties to start the day (pork please, if I see another chicken sausage!), and at least one “all hands” family meal. We ticked that one off on day 2, with seventeen of us having a raucous lunch, and a not insignificant amount of drinks. Thank you sis for all your hard work in organising, and managing to keep it from mum so I could surprise her on the day. Cue tears. I think maybe even mum cried too.

La familia

Blink, and the time was nearly up. We had visited Yorkshire, explored all the nightlife that West Vale has to offer, walked in the Dales, played golf at Lytham-St-Annes (and forgot my “safety first” mantra by neglecting to apply sunscreen), BBQd in Poulton Le Flyde, had fish and chips at Harry Ramsden’s in Blackpool, lunched in gorgeous West Sussex, swam at the historic Spread Eagle hotel (and then had one of their famous “full english” breakfasts), strolled the pier, and The Lanes, before having dinner in Brighton, and lots in between. The weather had been kind to us, which it always seems to be. Maybe we bring a slice of Sydney back with us each time.

Thankfully I now had a couple of days relaxing in the beautiful city of Palma, on the (almost) annual boy’s trip. These occasions are renowned for slowing down, enjoying the culture of a place, taking in a few museums, a little tipple in the evening, then early nights. This trip would be no different. After that, I would fly to Milan, meet my better half, and 3 weeks exploring Italy would commence.

It is times like this I tell myself how lucky and blessed we are.

Ciao, until next time.

High Tea at the Devonshire Arms in Yorkshire

July 27, 2019 by Fran 2 Comments

Regular readers of this blog, and those who spend any amount of time with me, will know that I eschew sugar wherever possible. Now, did you spot that? The disclaimer I sneakily added in. Wherever possible. Because sometimes it just isn’t possible. It isn’t. Wine for example. I take the lead from the ancient Greeks, the Italians, and sometimes, the French. Wine is life. Wine should be part of life. What is food without wine? Ah, wine. But, I digress. Whilst I sometimes write about wine, this is not the subject of today’s blog. So what is, I hear you asking.

Over the years I have found myself looking for the perfect high tea. I have written about the best high teas in Sydney. And that blog will continue to be updated. In the last week alone I have had high tea somewhere new in Sydney. But recently, I was on holiday, and decided to see what the UK had to offer. Would I find the best high tea in the UK? Let’s just say, I wasn’t disappointed.

The beautiful Devonshire Arms, nestled in Bolton Abbey in North Yorkshire, home of today's high tea.

Once a seventeenth century inn, The Devonshire Arms Hotel and Spa in Bolton Abbey is a national treasure. Nestled in the rolling hills and valleys of North Yorkshire, only an hours drive from my hometown of Halifax, high tea is served in the rather beautiful conservatory. Walking across the car park, with the crunch of gravel under your feet, as soon as you enter the hotel your nostrils are assailed with the unmistakable aroma of open fires. For me, there is hardly a more evocative smell. Immediately conjuring up images of bitterly cold English evenings, curled up in front of a roaring fire, with a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, mesmerised by the flames. But again, I digress.

The entrance to the Devonshire Arms, home of one of the UK's greatest high teas — The very inviting entrance to the Devonshire Arms

On a beautiful English summers day (honest), we found ourselves sat in the bright, spacious conservatory, looking out across the cricket oval. The distinctive sound of cork against willow told me that there was an innings in progress. I was brought back into the moment as we were presented with the menu for The Devonshire Arms Fizz Afternoon Tea and I was very impressed that the fizz being served was Laurent Perrier NV champagne. Already a step up from the sparkling white wines we are often served in Australia.

Champagne with mum, one of the highlights of the trip as we enjoy a high tea — I wish we could do this a lot more often

As the four of us sipped our champagne, catching up on family events over the last 2 years since our last visit to the UK, our high tea arrived. I couldn’t suppress a smile. You know you are in England, when tradition is fused with fun. Not many high teas arrive with a great big hunk of sausage roll as one of your delicacies. And what a splendid sausage roll it was.

We each had a high tea with our mum, so I at least knew that I was in no danger of there being leftovers. The 3 tiers of the high tea, or 3 courses, were of such good proportion, that as we worked through them, I knew that nothing was going to waste. Less is sometimes more, and the ratios were a master stroke.

The best high tea in the UK? — Oh, where to start?

Now, time to talk about the cream for the scones. I have been out of the UK for almost 8 years now, and may have become accustomed to the second rate cream we get served in Australia. Rather bland. Rather tasteless. Akin to the canned cream kids have so much fun squirting in to their mouths. But readers, we are now in the UK, and the cream! What can I say? Real, thick, irresistible, delectable, clotted cream. Cream so clotted that it was hard to get a spoon through. Cream so delicious that one could be tempted to pack up and relocate to North Yorkshire.

Let us not forget about the scones. Perfection. Small. Served warm. Slight crunch on the outside, reminiscent of a rock cake, but oh so fluffy on the inside. I won’t get into the debate here of whether the jam, or the cream goes on the scone first, happy that you leave me your thoughts on this very controversial topic in the comments.

You would think this was her first high tea. — Happiest I’ve seen her for a long time

If you still have room, and some of us did, I’m looking at you Mary, there is the third course. The top level of the high tea tray. Fancies that look too good to eat, but eat them we did. By this time we had our tea, and coffee, and were loosening our belts, as we polished off each small cake, aware that the afternoon would be spent in a food coma.

The rather excellent cakes, adorning the high tea at the Devonshire Arms — Little morsels of deliciousness

In fact, the afternoon proved to be one of the highlights of the trip back to the UK. Yorkshire is probably the best part of England (I could be slightly biased), and The Devonshire Arms is the quintessential Yorkshire venue. If you are ever in the region, I can’t recommend the high tea enough. Treat yourself even more, and splash out on an overnight stay, I would certainly have loved to have done.

Next up on the high tea odyssey, The Pipe & Glass in South Dalton. A slight spoiler alert, this was another one that also greatly impressed, and I will share the experience with you all very soon. Would it take the title of the best high tea in the UK?

Having a tiny adventure

October 11, 2019 by Fran Leave a Comment

Coffee and a kookaburra

As I sat with my coffee out on the small wooden deck, watching the world slowly wake up and come to life, I was reminded of why I was here. On this trip. It was for the solitude. For a slice of the simple life. Off the grid. To have a tiny adventure.

In the early morning light, chapters of the book I was reading, The Truants by Kate Weinberg, were interspersed with trying to get the perfect shot of the friendly kookaburra that had come to say hello. At least, that’s what I thought he was trying to convey through his inimitable laugh. In the distance a cockerel was crowing, announcing to whomever would listen that it was time to get up.

The woods in the grounds of the off grid tiny house Robinson — Sometimes you have to slow down, to see the wood from the trees

This was the first morning waking up in the tiny house that we were to spend the weekend in. Owned by a company called In2thewild, there are a number of these tiny houses scattered across New South Wales, and Victoria. We were up in the Lake Macquarie region, in a small village called Wyee. Our home for the weekend was, called Robinson (Crusoe). This was actually our fall back option as we had originally planned to stay at Isabella, near Kangaroo Valley, but in the time between booking, and visiting, she had been moved to Orange. This would have doubled our planned travelling time.

Wildlife of Wyee, home of Tiny House Robinson, where we went off grid for the weekend. — The welcome committee

Refueling after a long drive

Located 100 kms from Sydney, the trip to our tiny house should have only taken 1 and a half hours. Having lived in Sydney for many years, I now know to add a lot of fat into that. On the way up, cruising up the Pacific Coast highway, we did it in under 2 and a half hours. Coming home was a different story. Labour Day weekend traffic, and a crash on the Pacific Highway had us parking back up at home some 3 hours later.

The road up to Tiny House Robinson, where we were staying off grid for the weekend — Trying to find Tiny House Robinson

We were told we had a strict 3pm check in. How this works in practice, as we already had the code for the key drop-box, I am not completely sure. But with time on our hands we decided to get some lunch in the nearby village of Morriset. We were not spoiled for choice. It was midday on the Saturday of a long weekend, so where were all the people? Maybe all the in the Lake Macquarie Hotel (pubs tend to be called hotels in Australia), but as we walked past, the doors were so dark we couldn’t even tell if that was open. Most things in the village appeared to either be shut up, or abandoned. Even the police station had a polite notice on the door telling all those in dire need of assistance that “the station was not manned today”.

Our saviour, which I use lightly, was the Star and Grill, which looked busier than it looked salubrious. Nevertheless, as the saying goes, beggars are not in a position to be choosers. Looking for options that are hard to get wrong I went for the homemade (my bold) chicken schnitzel, which left me wondering what other kind there was. Perhaps they have different chickens up here I thought. Where the schnitzel grows on the bird. Who knows.

Schnitzel demolished, we had now killed enough time to check ourselves into the tiny house that was to be our home for the next few days. It was time to start having our tiny adventure. Following our directions, which we had printed out knowing how patchy phone coverage would be, we did the short drive from Morriset to Wyee, then turned off the main road, down a side road, and up into the forest. Bumping around on the uneven gravel road up the hill, we spotted the gate, set back from the road, with a “In2TheWild” sign telling us we had arrived.

the Tiny House Robinson, our home for the off grid weekend in Wyee — Check out the dimensions on the Tiny House

First impressions

Driving through the open gate, and parking just off to the right, we could immediately see the house, nestled down amongst the trees. I use the word house, but I have to be honest, it was even tinier than I had imagined, and I had seen all the pictures beforehand. There were no cats being swung this weekend. With a faint smell of burnt wood in the air, and a constant waft of eucalyptus, we carried our bags, which included all our food and drink for the weekend, down to the house. Thankfully we had brought an esky, and had just bought a bag of ice from the local servo, as the fridge in the house was the size of a small beer fridge. Enough room for some milk, our wide collection of salami and cheeses, plus a few beers. All the essentials for a weekend away.

The kitchen in Tiny House Robinson, our off grid home for the weekend — Quite spacious, is it not?

The tiny house Robinson, off grid living in Wyee — Picture perfect

Now, hands up those of you that have seen Dr Who. Good, then you will know what a tardis is. Well, once you get past how small this house looked on the outside, check out the picture above, when I got inside it threw me how much room we seemed to have. There was a small kitchen, with a two hob stove serviced by the gas bottles outside. There was an oversize sink, that in my opinion could be swapped out for a smaller one creating additional, or some, food preparation space. The toilet looked like a real toilet, and it wasn’t until you flushed, that you were immediately reminded of pooing on an aeroplane. You weren’t plumbed in, and your waste was only going as far as the septic tank underneath the house. The bathroom also included a very modern looking shower that we could only ever get to spit out cold water.

Large windows all around the house created a further sense of space. What the windows upstairs didn’t have were blinds. The eye mask that is provided was going to come in useful if we wanted to sleep beyond the rising of the sun. We were going to be embracing our circadian rhythm this weekend. To get up to bed we had to negotiate 6 very steep, smooth wooden steps. If this looked challenging now you should have seen me attempting it after a bottle of cabernet.

The steps in Tiny House Robinson, off grid in Wyee — Try this when you have had a tipple

Not that you would need storage space for this kind of minimalist weekend trip, but there were a few cupboards. Enough to store some food, and the board games, and a deck of cards that were provided to give you options for keeping entertained once night set in. The stairs were constructed in such a way that the bottom few doubled up as storage space, with a tiny bookshelf under one of them. Inside we had everything we would need for the next few days, and outside on the deck there was the all important BBQ.

When off grid literally means just that

Being off grid, and powered by solar panels, the house does not have any electrical power sockets. This meant that this was the most redundant I had ever seen Victoria’s hairdryer and straighteners. It also meant we were in the (un)enviable, you decide, position of not being able to charge our phones. How often are any of us in this position in this day and age, tethered as we are to our mobile devices. Believe me, it is very liberating. Just knowing that not only have you not got a full mobile signal, but you can’t charge your phone up any way.

Camp living, off grid in Wyee at Tiny House Robinson — When you finally get some firelighters!

Now, let me say something here. As much as I love being out in the wilderness, having a tiny adventure, and the Instagram photos of tables, heavily laden with a feast of food, look very appealing, nobody ever tells you about the large flying creatures, and the mosquitoes that appear to have been on steroids. I love the idea of channelling my inner Thoreau, imagining I am sat on the edge of my own pond, quietly reading my book, with a glass of wine. But damn, if only those flies had read the script. Later in the evening, it wasn’t the flies that scared the bejeesus out of us. It was the huntsman spider, the size of a small cat, (that could be a slight exaggeration, based on the amount of wine we had drunk) than ran across the outside of the window, right by our heads. At this point, I started frantically looking around the house to see if he could sneak in anywhere, and eat me in the night.

Survival kit at Tiny House Robinson, off grid in Wyee — But no firelighters

Maybe if I lit the campfire, that would discourage both the flies and mosquitoes. Ah, the campfire. I wasted a whole New Yorker, and the best part of a box of matches trying to get the fire going without firelighters. There was a “survival kit” provided but I wish the sachet of porridge had been swapped for some much more practical firelighters. It had gotten dark, literally, by the time I admitted defeat on the first night. We had no kindling. We had no fire. I was proving to be no Bear Grylls. I had to have a second whisky nightcap to drown my disappointment.

A new dawn and final impressions

The morning dawned bright, with an hour lost to the clocks going forward. This was inconsequential to us as we were not on any kind of timetable this weekend. Clambering, which is the only way I can describe it, precariously down the stairs, I brewed up coffee with my beloved Aeropress, and made a Yorkshire tea, nice and strong for Victoria. Experience has taught me to always pack some fresh coffee, and my Aeropress when going on trips. There was a cafetiere in the house, but the only coffee provided was that instant kind that comes in glass jars. I didn’t even think people still drank this.

Morning coffee in Wyee, off grid in Tiny House Robinson — Morning coffee

Back on the deck, the snap and sizzle of a frying pan told me that breakfast was on the way. Bacon, egg, and black pudding breakfast. This has become a travel classic, always cooked up on our trips away. Sat back in my Adirondack chair, hypnotised by the trees, blankets of green laid on top of the lines and lines of wooden sentries, I was rested, and very relaxed. Pockets of sunshine crept through the canopy as I marvelled at how easy it could be to slow our lives down when we are mindful of it. This weekend was about having a tiny adventure. Our intention was to unplug, unwind, read, and relax this weekend. Sipping my coffee, looking out into the forest, I had concluded that we had made a great success of it.

Cape Town for first time visitors

December 21, 2019 by Fran Leave a Comment

The sun sets on another great day in Cape Town — Another great Cape Town sunset

First impressions

Our first venture through the city streets was a little tentative. A few extra checks over the shoulder. Maybe a little jumpy when someone jumped out asking for money. In and around the city bowl, where we were staying, we had already seen a lot of poverty. The taxi from the airport took a rather circuitous route to our Airbnb. Isn’t this taxi drivers the world over? And we had been taken down Longmarket Street, seeing the extent of the homeless refugees, camped out on the streets, in and around the church. I had just spent a glorious, luxurious, 6 days chasing animals, and chasing wines. If ever it was time to reflect on how privileged we are, that time would be now. We were about to experience Cape Town as first time visitors.

Cape Town has quite a reputation, on a number of fronts. Depending on who you talk to, you could either be in for a definite mugging, knife attack, or carjacking, or you could be in for the holiday of a lifetime, with amazing scenery, world class wines, and fine dining to rival anything you have previously had. A South African colleague of mine had primed me with every scare story he could think of it was surprising I wasn’t a nervous wreck from the moment I touched down.

Picture postcard perfect, Table Mountain in Cape Town, perfect for first time visitors — Picture postcard perfect

The V&A waterfront

With bags dropped at our city centre apartment, we walked down to the V&A Waterfront, which took me a few days to work out mean’t the Victoria and Alfred waterfront. Attracting over 20 million visitors a year, the oldest working harbour in the southern hemisphere has been converted into a multi use leisure precinct, teeming with bars and restaurants. Only a 30 minute walk from the city bowl, where we were staying, it could have been a million miles away, and is a great example of the inequality in South Africa. Something we saw all through our 10 day trip.

Surrounded by the majestic Table Mountain, the 2010 World Cup final football stadium, and the sea, this is an area that you should visit whilst in Cape Town. If you have a spare R20,300 (approx $2,000) you can stay in the area and have one (yes, just 1) night in one of the cheapest rooms at the Silo Hotel. Trust me, this looks better on the inside, as an old silo mill has been faithfully restored to hold a luxury hotel. We had sunset drinks on the rooftop one evening but were caught unawares by the wind, taking the shine off the experience.

Cape Town for first time visitors should include a visit to the Silo hotel, if you can afford it — The Silo hotel

Did someone say food?

One of the best experiences that South Africa has to offer, less obvious than the animals on safari, and the wineries of Franschhoek, is the world class food it serves up. Having read up on this, and having a travel partner who is on top of her Instagram game, we, or should I say she, had the foresight to book a table for dinner at the fabulous Pot Luck Club (http://thepotluckclub.co.za/). Situated on the top floor of an old silo, in the Biscuit Mill, Pot Luck Club is the sister restaurant to The Test Kitchen (https://www.thetestkitchen.co.za/home). Knowing that the Test Kitchen has been on such illustrious lists as the Best Restaurants of the year, and The World’s 50 Best Restaurants, we knew it had good pedigree. We weren’t disappointed. Oh boy, what a night.

Cape Town for first time visitors should include a visit to Pot Luck Club

Robben Island

The day after, in a more sombre mood, we made our way back to the waterfront to join the Robben Island tour. Robben Island, located just 7 kilometres off the coast of Cape Town, is where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated for 18 of the 27 years he spent in prison. Tours depart 4 times a day, offering a 3.5 hour round trip by boat. On the island you are joined by a former inmate who shows you around the prison buildings, including Mandela’s old cell, whilst recounting his experiences as a prisoner on the island. It is moving, frustrating and deeply maddening all at the same time to hear of the injustices of the time.

Robben Island, Cape Town for first time visitors — Long walk to freedom

Getting out of the city

Whilst the previous day on Robben Island left us in a very reflective mood, today was about joining an organised tour and heading out of the city. We spent the day touring along the coast, driving along the breathtaking Chapmans Peak, probably the most scenic drive in the world. Over the course of a fun day, albeit rather over narrated by our enthusiastic driver, we spent time at the Cape of Good Hope (where the Atlantic and Indian oceans meet), Hout Bay, and Boulders Beach.

Pick up a penguin

Now let me say right here, Boulders Beach was THE main reason for the day trip. It was the stop I had been told by Vik that was non negotiable. Whilst planning the trip, back in Sydney, Boulders Beach had always featured very high on the list of things to do. And when you get there, and walk amongst the thousands of African penguins, it all made sense. For some reason these African penguins settled on this sheltered beach in 1982 and it has been home to them ever since, drawing in hordes and hordes of tourists.

Cape Town for first time visitors should include a visit to Boulders Beach

Time for tea, high tea

Escaping the crowds, the day after saw us celebrating what had been a great holiday. One that surpassed all my expectations. And we were going out on a high with a sparkling high tea at the venerable Cape Grace hotel. Regular readers of the blog will no doubt know of my quest to find Sydney’s best high tea and that I always like to try out new ones. And receive your recommendations. In the hushed interior of The Library in the hotel we enjoyed a glass of sparkling MCC (South Africa’s excellent champagne style bubbles) and a tower of decadent delights. Did it hit the heights of the Devonshire Arms in Yorkshire? Maybe the lack of proper clotted cream just let it down.

Table Mountain

What visit to Cape Town is complete without a trip up to the top of Table Mountain? Saying goodbye to our friendly, Manchester United supporting Uber driver, we headed over and joined the queue of people that had the foresight to pre-book tickets online. This did in fact save us quite a bit of time as the queuing system for the cable car ride up is slightly chaotic. With a rotating internal cabin that holds up to 60 people at a time, the ride itself is quite daunting. Climbing to heights of and being unable to hold on to the sides, as they keep rotating around, the trip is quite discombobulating.

Until the next time

All good things come to an end, and alas the same was true for this amazing holiday. We had seen the best on offer in Cape Town for first time visitors. We still had one last morning to fill and where better to spend it than at another Instagram favourite of Vik’s. Jason Bakery (@jasonbakerycpt) posts pictures on Instagram that look so good you often find yourself licking your screen. I can confirm that they taste as good as they look, and are well complemented with some of the best coffee I had on the whole trip. We even snuck a couple in the bag to enjoy at the airport ahead of flying home.

Looking back on 2019, and ahead to 2020

January 6, 2020 by Fran Leave a Comment

In January last year I posted my “having a retrospective on 2018” post. So, it is about time that I did the same, looking back on 2019, and ahead to 2020. Time to brew up a strong coffee, sit back, and reflect on the year that just passed.

A lot has happened in the last year. It has been a year I have been happy with, for a number of reasons. As always, like every good retrospective, there are a few areas that could improve. But isn’t that the same with everyone?

The first item on last year’s list is one such area of improvement. Seeing a recent Facebook post by a good friend reminded that yet again, I have failed to get on a surfboard. The surf lesson I keep promising myself has again failed to materialise. Maybe this is one that I will just dream of, and never get around to, much like the cabbage soup diet.

Looking back on 2019, and the surf boards of the Sea Garden cafe in Margaret River

Other areas of improvement from last year’s retro have fared much better. Every year I have a perennial “must do”, which is to do a yoga class. And thanks to my better half, I have finally ticked this off. In fact, you could say I have smashed it, with many classes now done in a couple of different styles of yoga. For the more active of you, I would recommend Vinyasa Flow. Sure to get the heart pumping and you contorting yourself into all manner of positions, you leave one of these classes knowing you have had a workout. For those of us getting to the stage where it is hard just getting out of bed, I would recommend finishing your work week with Yin Nidra yoga. A relaxing blend of easy movement and falling asleep. Literally. The last 10 minutes of every class ends with the instructor handing out blankets, turning down the lights, and zoning out.

I started the year wanting to do more writing, and again this has been a success. I have completed a couple of creative writing courses, and a travel writing course, allowing me to practice my craft a lot more. I have now set myself the target of getting a travel article published so I can officially call myself a “freelance travel writer”. I almost got one of my blogs published in the Halifax Evening Courier, but that has yet to come to fruition. I also kept up my daily journal, both digitally in the DayOne app, and also a brief summary of each day in a hand written journal. A great way to end the day, scribbling what I have learnt, and what I am grateful for.

Looking back on the year, reflecting in a daily journal — Making a habit of gratitude

As the tagline of my blog says, “go someplace new every year”, and this year the big destination was South Africa. You may have seen the blogs I wrote from safari and the rest of that amazing trip. A trip that has left me with a lifetime of memories. If a safari is on your “to do” list, I would heartily encourage you move it up the priority list. It is life changing.

Looking back on 2019, celebrating on South Africa — Celebrating on safari in South Africa

I visited the Philippines for the first time, with a very productive work trip to Manila, where I created, and delivered a 2 day training program to a client. A very rewarding experience.

A great visit to the UK to meet up with family also provided the opportunity to get to Nice, in the south of France, a city I had not previously visited. Much of that trip is a wine fuelled haze, but I think we had a good time. I had 8 nights in the Greek Islands to recover.

When does a “boy’s trip” become an “bloke’s trip?”

The good time may have contributed to another, less than successful item on last year’s list, which was to drop 4kgs in weight. I will carry this target into 2020 but I won’t hit it if I continue to munch on mince pies and Quality Street long after Christmas has finished. I did suffer with a suspected parasite in my stomach before Christmas that resulted in me losing 3kgs, but alas, the sneaky buggers have returned. The weight, not the parasite.

Last year I wrote of wanting to have my first cold Christmas in over 6 years, but this didn’t happen. We had the day itself, celebrating my birthday, on the beach at Balmoral. Cold beer and a paddle in the sea becoming something off a tradition. Having received the trip as a surprise birthday present, on Boxing Day we then jetted off to Hamilton Island, in Queensland, for 3 nights pure relaxation at The Beach Club. Will 2020 be the year that I finally get another cold Christmas?

I continue to read as many books as possible, having reached a grand total of 122 in 2019. My reading interests vary a lot and I tend to have 3 or 4 books on the go at once. On the bedside table is often a heavy (sometimes literally) historical, or biographical book. Something to help me unwind and sleep. I can recommend the most recent one I finished which was “George Orwell – A Life”, by Bernard Crick. I tend to read a lot of business books, and in the gym I run to a light, easy audiobook. Maybe this will be the year I restart, and finish, Middlemarch.

This year also brought perhaps the biggest change in my life. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Victoria. Over dinner at the rather excellent Bennelong, in the Sydney Opera House, I finally put a ring on it. Victoria agreed to become my wife. I wonder if she knows what she is letting herself in for? I have definitely got the better end of the deal. We have no immediate plans for a wedding so please don’t be asking me if you should start shopping for hats.

Looking back on 2019, and a great dinner at Bennelong in Sydney — Bennelong, Sydney

In summary, I had an excellent and productive 2019. I faced in to new career challenges, switching back to a permanent role at a small consultancy at the start of the year. The role I have is also very different to the last 15 years of my life during which time I was a project manager. I am now working with organisations, and teams, in how they can work more effectively. The coaching side of the role is something that I am really enjoying. Au revoir to status reports and steering committees.

Whilst fully enjoying life, I also managed to maintain my health and fitness. All this despite doing my best to sample every bottle of wine produced in Australia (and South Africa).

And I convinced someone to make an honest man of me.

This year, my 49th year on the planet, is shaping up to be another good one. Back to work to keep growing myself, and even more importantly to bank some dollars for future trips. I will continue writing blogs, and now also travel articles, and I will let you know how I get on with publishing that first article. I would like to do some form of retreat this year and am always open to your suggestions and recommendations. I am thinking about meditation and yoga. Meditation is something I continue to do, although I don’t do enough of it.

Looking back on 2019, and ahead to 2020, the thought of the year ahead fills me with happiness, and curiosity to where it will take me.

Watch this space.

When it comes to travel, it’s the business

We laughed, we cried, we hugged

High Tea at the Devonshire Arms in Yorkshire