Madeira part one

We went on holiday! Two whole weeks on an island we’d never visited, with adventure waiting around every corner.

The mountains in the north

Madeira’s landscape is extraordinary—no wonder the Portuguese were so taken with it, and why it changed hands several times over the last four hundred years. Although it originally seemed uninhabitable to early explorers, the ingenuity of Portuguese engineers (sadly using slave labour) led to the construction of remarkable channels that carry water from the lush north to the dry south. These are called levadas, and they’re one of the features that make Madeira such a wonderful destination for walkers.

Levada PR 6.3

Our impression was that the north resembled New Zealand—high, tree-covered volcanic mountains draped in a persistent veil of cloud. The south, by contrast, felt more like a Mediterranean island: sunny and drier (though we were in the Atlantic ocean). The island isn’t large—about 35 miles east to west and 13 miles deep—so as long as you have a car and a head for heights, getting around is easy. Although Portuguese, Madeira is geographically closer to Africa than to mainland Europe.

The more recent engineering that impressed us was the tunnels! The old roads, which wound around mountains and clung precariously to crumbling rock faces, have been replaced by sleek tunnels that punch straight through the mountains. The new coast roads (head west from the airport, along the coast, and then north) probably has as much tarmac underground as it does above.

One thing we learned quickly was that if the weather in the north (where we were staying) wasn’t great, we could simply head south. We drove through one 3.1 km tunnel in the middle of the island, and as soon as we popped out the other side, the clouds were behind us and brilliant sunshine lit up the landscape.

The hotel was nice—though a bit Miss Havisham (she was four-star in the ’80s, a little faded now). But the staff were lovely, and the breakfast was a great fuel-up for the day’s adventuring. Our favourite places were the levadas (though we only walked one), Calheta beach, Fanal forest, and the local Brasa restaurant (which served amazing beef skewers).

The 'witch tree' Fanal forest

Like Iceland, Madeira has very little native mammal fauna. I managed to spot one of the native trocaz pigeons—no photo, sadly. The endemic sparrowhawks had a nest near our balcony, so I did get some good shots of them. The other prolific wildlife was the little lizards, with the males sporting a gorgeous green. Although most scattered when people approached, I found one sunny spot where a gang was sunbathing—and I even got to hand-feed them.

The island is also famous for its flowers, and they were out in abundance during our visit. The hills were draped in wild agapanthus, their huge white and purple heads nodding in the breeze, and the hydrangeas were enormous! Much of what we saw is best illustrated rather than described, but I’ll highlight a couple of our adventures in more detail in future posts.

Useful links:

• The levadas
• History of Madeira
• Photos from our trip - Photobox book

Liked this? Try...

• Iceland - part one
• We didn't catch covid
• A decent proposal

All photos (C) Carolyn Tyrrell-Sheppard

Iceland part two

In November 2024 the volcano south of the airport decided to flex its magma and attempt to wipe out a town, destroy a few roads and seriously threaten the Blue Lagoon and the nearest power plant. It was spectacular! Not world-impacting like the 2010 eruption of E17 (which is on the glacier we later visited) - but still impressive. Would we see lava? Well, not 'in the flesh' as it were. The volcano was rumbly, but not performing for visitors when we were in Iceland.

Human made lava

Day two: doing the cultural bit. We had our breakfast and headed into Reykjavik, having decided that the Lava show and Northern Lights exhibition were the two places we wanted to head to. Deciding on the Norther Lights first (we hadn't seen them yet, as it was so cloudy), we rocked up to find it shut! And a sign on the door saying they'd moved - phew! We headed to the new venue but arrived at the Lava show venue first, with just 10 minutes before the 12 o'clock show. Lava first! 

When a couple watched the lava flow past their house, they were awestruck. They wanted us all to share in the wonder, but without the evacuations, ruined roads and danger to life. So they built this show with a massive burner that melts the black laval sands and turns them back into hot lava. It was mesmerising! The presenter, Joanna, gave a really interesting talk on the geology of Iceland, how the lava is released, types of lava flow (using two cute but forgotten Hawaiian terms), and then demonstrated how it would buckle, turn into glass, and retain heat even when the surface was cold. She made lava strands (witches hair) and - as the lava had already been melted once and was 'gas free' - the result was like black glass. 

Northern lights watching

After a very enjoyable 'demonstration' we went next door to the Northern Lights exhibition. You might wonder how they can showcase a natural phenomenon, but they did a great job. There were really clear explanations of what causes them, where they happen, the different colours (different heights in the atmosphere) and an amazing photography display in an almost cinema-sized room where you could sit, or even lie down and watch the Northern lights in all their glory. If we didn't see them in real life, this would be the next best thing! The tour finished with steel swivel pod chairs and a VR headset that worked amazingly. We got our Northern Lights fix!

Driving out of Reykjavik we headed to the Harper Hall (an amazing building) but as we could not park anywhere, we headed out by following the coast road. It didn't take long to reach a lighthouse and a nature reserve. We could have walked to the lighthouse along a little causeway, but the tide was coming in and we didn't fancy an afternoon being buffeted on the lighthouse island, waiting for the tide to go out again. Instead we started to walk along the sea wall (looking down on black sand) and we saw our first proper wildlife: King Eider ducks, purple sandpiper (a first for me) and a speeding hawk that must have ben a gyr falcon, although it was too speedy for a confirmed ID. We had a lovely walk through the nature reserve up to a large pond with Whooper swans, pink footed geese and a host of other ducks. The wind was whistling round us, and it was overcast, but the fresh cold air was exhilarating. 

On our way back we stopped for a late lunch at a small restaurant and we had raw beef and cooked cheese. I say 'we', but I ate most of it.

Liked this? Try...

• Iceland part 1
• Too fat for a Pole
• Above the salt

Useful links:

• The Lava Show
• The Northern Lights Centre

All photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard

We didn't catch covid

Holiday blog post time! But not all the pictures of scenery and lovely meals (though Corfu has in abundance), but more a reflection on the visit to this amazing island, which is part of Greece, and has just had a change in government.

We arrived (late due to a problem with 'airspace over Slovakia') and the promised rain was nowhere to be seen. The airport was busy and travellers were hot and impatient. Driving to our hotel complex, I was minded that Lord's - where we were staying - was quite different to the Lord's - where I sometimes work.

The first thing I noticed on the drive is that everything was lush and green. The bottlebrush trees were in full colour, the angel's trumpets were huge, and the bouganvilla was in abundance. There were morning glory growing like weeds and the large totem pole cypruss broke up the mountainside horizons like exclamation marks.

We arrived on the Monday, the day after the weekend election on Greece. Having had a left wing government for some time, and the economy becoming more stable (I read), there was a lack of 'trickle down to the people. The electrion result was a Centre Right party, I think, but they have to have another election in June. I have no idea if that's good for Greece,  I'm not goiing to comment on politics where I know so little. But I made observations.

The dustbins - large dumpsters - are placed along roads all over the countryside. Without exception they were overflowing and rubbish was blowing around into the local area - rural and town. Being a hot country there was, of course, a smell, but maybe they did emtpy them often, they just filled up quick. In

two weeks we saw one dust truck going into a private holiday complex (ignoring the huge pile of garbage outside the nearby monastery). In Corfu they have very small sewage pipes, so all paper used in toilets is binned, not flushed. In our accommodation they emptied the bins almost daily, so odour was never an issue.

I had only ever been to Greece twice before (Rhodes and Athens) and both times for work, so my tourist experience of the country and its islands was non-existent. The people of Corfu were very friendly and accommodating, many (everyone we spoke to) could speak English and probably German too. Prices were reasonable (we could eat out well for £10 a head easily), and the rental of our bike and quad was very affordable. Petrol, too, was cheaper at first, though when we got back to GB, it looked like prices had fallen.

When we drove up into the mountains and through the smaller villages, there were still women all wearing black, and there were still cars that looked like they should be scrapped driving around with bits hanging off them. There were tourists on quad bikes and 'twist and go' (like the bike above), and the smartest cars (even the one we saw upside down with an ambulance next to it) were usually hire cars.

The main roads were good (very wiggly due to the landscape), but the side roads were full of potholes. The mountain roads varied - from smooth tarmac to concrete corners and then potholed single track - and all on the same route.

The views from the mountains were amazing. We stopped at one taverna and chatted with the owner whose family had lived in the area for generations.  He told us how the Kaiser built on the next peak, but they all laughed as the water was on his peak. And he told how his grandfather taught him how to find water, so that's why he built his taverna where it was. He had olive groves and served us his own oil, he had vinyards and served us his own wine. He was old, gnarly, and friendly. He didn't like the government (which I wasn't sure) and we had similar opinions of the lack of politicans' understanding of the everyday life of people.

The beaches were clean, and even when the one night of storms brought in all the seaweed, it didn't impede our delight in laying on the hot sand and swimming in the shallow, clear sea. The jellyfish arrived in the second week, but we managed to avoid them.

I had no problems travelling or swimming with my stoma, which for other ostomates may be reassuring. I didn't even get heat rash around the seal, thankfully.  We flew there and back on an Irish airline and I really don't like them. The staff are fine, but you have to pay even to fart, it seems. Thank goodness they didn't charge me extra for having a stoma!

Two weeks is a long holiday for me. The only other time I've been away than long was to Australia in 2018. It was a lovely two weeks. We both relaxed, enjoyed the island and enjoyed eachother's company and reading (audio) some great books.

And, we didn't catch covid.

Useful links:

• Discover Greece - Corfu
• Greece - caretaker leader
• Lord's Complex, Agios Giorgios

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• Adelong morning
• Facepage and webook
• Closed!

What a week!

Monday

Got married! Managed to share the day with our friends, thanks to rules allowing more than 30 (we had 32) we had a super wedding lunch with those we love. We wish more could have come/been invited, but we are planning a huge party next year. Watch this space. I will upload the wedding photos soon.

After the wedding we drove to The Hyde Dovecote in Kinver. Although Axle was away in Norfolk and Diesel at kennels, we took Chizel with us as he has a problem with his legs and we couldn't leave the poor lad.

Tuesday

The Dovecote

The Dovecote is small, and the wooden staircase proved too much for Chizel so we had plenty of exercise lifting him up and downstairs. After unpacking more, we walked down the river to Kinver, had tea and cakes in the village, and then walked back by the canal. It was a lovely day with mild weather and stunning countryside.  We had lunch in the Vine by the canal and Sheena was most impressed that her favourite cola was just £1.80 a pint (as opposed to £3 back home). We went back to the Vine for supper, but they had finished serving at 8pm. Instead we raced over to Harley's Smoke House and managed to get our order in just before 8.30. We had rushed there so we rushed our meal, which was nice but the salt pot bottom fell off on Sheena's dinner, and there was so much in my plate of nachos that I left half. Good food though, and well distanced tables. 

Wednesday

I popped briefly into Stourbridge for some shopping, struggling with parking and carting shopping down the high street. I forgot half the things I was supposed to get, but did get cheap meat!  We walked down the canal route and spent a lazy day at the Vine, playing Splendor and just relaxing, watching the canal barges and chatting to a man with one arm. Lunch was delicious. The weather was mostly bright, but a bit windy which ruined one of our games as the cards went all over the place! We found a quiet corner and - amazingly - I actually won a game (haven't won for ages).  

Thursday

The sun was shining brightly so we had another quiet day, this time at the Dovecote, with a barbecue for lunch and playing our guitars on the raised patio. We had another walk, and were so full from lunch we just had strawberries and cake for supper.

Friday

We went into Bridgnorth and spent the day in the town, wandering round the castle gardens, sitting by the river eating ice cream and going up and down in the funicular. We also bought a pushchair off Facebook for Chizel who was struggling with the walking.

Friday night we went to a gig! We had been told about it by our hosts, and trotted over to Ashwood Marina at Kingswinford to see the excellent Buzzin Hornets. A lovely evening (with a small audience), and so good to see live music again. Larry, our host, was there with his partner Anni. We swapped music videos of our respective performances, of course!

Saturday

Rock house

Our last day! We visited the rock houses at Kinver Edge and then crossed county lines into Worcestershire for a visit to Witley. It was a beautiful day and we loved the ruined house, the wonderful gardens and the amazing fountain.  We had supper at the Fox, which (after a long wait) was very nice, but it felt a little crowded. Covid restrictions have made us a lot more aware of the space around us.

Sunday

An early start, packup and drive home. When we did get home, the garden had gone mad! Peas were ready for harvest, I had a courgette and a cabbage ready to pick, strawberries and redcurrants, and our flower borders were blooming. It looks wonderful, and we are hoping for lots of produce as the season continues. Thanks to a kind neighbour, all the plants were watered whilst we were away (and the cat fed too).

Monday

We've been married a whole week! I drove to Norfolk to pick up Axle, Sheena picked up Diesel, we visited both mothers and Chizel visited the vet for some x-rays.  Now it's onwards and upwards. We had a lovely week, but it's great to be home here in beautiful Suffolk.

The spectacular fountain

More photos coming soon...

A decent proposal

Spanish brandy - Julio helped us demolish a nearly full
bottle of Le Panto in just two sittings

Taking Sally back to Mallorca for a week in September was a real pleasure.  We love the island and it has special significance to Sally, as she lived there on and off for more than 20 years with her partner, Orlando.

Sally used to live in a village called Genova, just outside Palma. If you go ‘downhill’ from Genova you come to Cala Major, and that’s where we stayed this year. It has a couple of beaches, and is on the Number 3 bus route which makes it easy to get into Palma.

We managed to fit in quite a bit, even though Sally is slower now (she’s 83) and has macular degeneration, which impairs her sight considerably. There’s no stopping her though!

Sally next to some framed pictures of
her designs at Theatre Zero

We managed to fit a lot in to our week – a catch up with Lizzie, a long-time friend of Sally’s and trips into Palma to the lovely Theatro Sans, where Sally is known and loved. She spent many years working with them, designing and making costumes, and teaching. We went to the theatre one evening to see a fantastic flamenco show.  We managed a beach trip and a swim in the sea, and a couple of evenings we ate in the hotel bar, down by the swimming pool.  

One evening, sitting by the pool between a lovely lemon tree and a bright red hibiscus, we got chatting with Julio, the bar manager. I don’t speak much Spanish, and Sally can understand but finds it hard to speak.  Julio didn’t speak much English, but we still had lovely conversations.

Though Julio works at the hotel, it’s not his vocation, his first love is music! He is a pianist and was a DJ at Cala Major beach, and the owner of the club asked him to help out one day at the hotel. That was 16 years ago. I told him I was a bass player, and that my daughter played music too. Julio said Sally reminded him of his mother. She is 94 and was a dancer. His father, long gone, was a circus clown.  Julio’s daughter, Maria, worked in the hotel too, when Julio had a day off. Julio came over even though he wasn’t working. We had a lovely evening, and agreed that he and I should get married. But there wasn’t enough time this trip, so if I go back next year (and Sally does want to return, of course), I have a decent proposal on the table!

How the casa used to look

We also ate at a local café where we were served by a delightful young waitress (about the same age as my daughter) who was practicing her English. We ate there three times, for light lunches, and on our last day she was there with a friend on her day off. Even so she came over to say hello and wish us a good journey home. Yes, we tipped her nicely, and were given a most delicious Herbas after our last meal at no charge.

How the casa looks now

It was a good week. We saw old friends, made new friends, and got some sorely needed sunshine. The saddest part of our trip was a visit to the Casa where she had lived. We knew it had been sold, but had hoped the frontage would be protected. I’m sure the house will be lovely when it’s finished, and will make someone a fabulous home, but it was sad to lose the history of Casa Martinez.

I probably won’t marry Julio, but isn’t it nice to have been asked, even in fun.  

NB – I changed Julio’s name, just in case he’s proposed to another tourist since; I wouldn’t want to embarrass him.

All photos (C) me. 

If you liked this, check out:

Village of barking dogs
Simple guide to Mallorca

Sneak Peak

Yes, Peak. This weekend I went to Youlgreave (or grave, or a number of other spellings) in the Peak District.

Yours for around £1m...

The countryside is spectacular and the village quite charming. There is one rather lovely house for sale - now where is my lottery ticket? I think it would make a rather good folk music and dance retreat. Ah, wishes and dreams!

The weekend was not about walking, though we did some of that; it was about something that I've not really done before, and not a lot of people I know do it either. I got my 'sneak peek' into the world of Circle Dance.

I had been to a small circle dance before, in the deep wilds of Norfolk, but this was very different. This was communal living for four days, sharing food, dancing together, sometimes walking together and generally being very sociable.  OK, we stayed in a B&B at the local pub which wasn't very communal (some folks stayed and slept on the floor in the basement of the village hall), but it was very pleasant indeed.

I'm not much of a dancer, to corrupt a line from one of my own songs, 'I'd rather be playing' - but if you can't play, then dancing is good too!

What I like about circle dance is that you don't have to be an expert dancer, you don't have to do the fast ones, and you don't have to have a partner. It's like line dancing, only joined up (well, not exactly, but there are similarities). Everyone dances together, no gender differentiation, and 'no mistakes, only variations'.

At the end of a dance, the circle continues to hold hands and just 'enjoys' the sense of community that dancing together brings. It could border on the spiritual, and at the end of a dance session we came together in more of a circle 'hug' and - despite my cautious, skeptical nature, I found it very relaxing and pleasant.

We didn't dance non-stop - afternoons were free and we chose to walk the wonderful countryside nearby, especially enjoying walks along the Bradford river which was a stroll from the village hall where we were
dancing. The weather was mostly good and I was delighted to see grey wagtail, dippers and even a kingfisher.

They were good people, and I made new friends and learned how do to many of the moves that are repeated in different dances. There were dances from Turkey, Russia, Israel, Greece, the Balkans and many more. An international, harmonic, sociable, relaxing yet sometimes energet

A dipper, dipping!

ic way to spend a long weekend.

My friend who invited me is keen to go again - well, I think I just might!

Petra's leap

It’s holiday time. The family are bundled into the Humber Hawk – ‘Snodge’. My dad always named his cars, and this big old grey car, with its huge leather seats (no seatbelts), its spacious boot and improvised roof-rack, was the perfect vehicle for transporting the family down the long and winding roads from North London to Devon. Petrol was 73p a gallon – an outrage! One day, my father mused, it would probably be more than a pound a gallon.

There was no M4 in those days, so the A4 was our favoured (and only major) route. The journey was punctuated by visits to different hostelries along the way and I am fairly sure that at the age of about six I could reasonably navigate myself across half of England via the names of different pubs along the way.


Petra, following me up a cliff on the beach



I looked out of the window watching fields spin past, sheep dotting the hillsides like fallen clouds, whilst pigs and cows added extra punctuation to the brown and green countryside. My brother, ignoring the world outside the window and whiling away the journey through immersion in comics (Superman, Batman, The Flash), would stop reading just long enough to argue with me over food, or to steal my comic (Sparky), or to look out the window cursorily at my mother’s insistence that we ‘enjoy the view’. Our dog, Petra, would alternately sit in the front with mother, or in the back with us. If we argued too much, Petra sat in the front and we were deprived of her warm, affectionate companionship.  She was, as my father described her, a ‘black and tan-ex’. A cute mongrel with a lovely temperament and an obliging nature.

One of our favourite stops along the way was the Pig & Whistle. Now for the life of me I can’t remember where this pub is, but I do know that it was by a bridge over a river – and from the road bridge there was a 20 foot drop down to the riverbank below. It was the scene, on one of our travels, for Petra’s spectacular leap. Petra was on the bridge with my brother, and I was below in the field by the river. The field sloped down from the pub to the river and was part of its garden. Though deep rivers and huge drops may be considered dangerous environments for kids today – for us it was nothing to play in such places without adult supervision.

I called to Petra – it was my ‘turn’ for the dog. Assuming that she would trot round the lane route and down into the field, I was aghast to see our lovely pet flying through the air as she took the quick way down – leaping from the bridge to join me below. The strange thing is, I remember this from a third party perspective, as if I am standing by the pub watching both the road and the field below, with me standing there as Petra sailed – perhaps gracefully – down to the ground. Amazingly she was unhurt; perhaps it wasn’t really a huge 20 feet drop – but it did seem incredibly high to a small girl, and probably higher to an even smaller dog.

Writing your childhood

I'm reading a book about going camping in the 70s (The tent, the bucket, and me). The writing is witty, bright and detailed. I'm sure that the author doesn't actually remember the details herself of events from when she was just four years old; there'll be a good dose of imagination as well, I'm sure, as familial interrogation.

So how do you write your childhood? Yes, you were there, but your perspective would be totally different at the time compared to how you may remember things in later life. I know, for example, that a lot of my stories from childhood are based around constructed memories: things that I know happened and have been recounted as stories. So are my memories from the events, or the retelling?

I'm not sure how it works, but I do know that it takes a good writer to make it feel genuine.

I thought, then, about how I might write something from my own childhood. For example, a family holiday, or a particular event. How would I collect the information that goes with the memory? Most of the people of my childhood are no longer around, apart from my mother.  I do need to talk to her more about her life - she has some amazing stories to tell. But I doubt if any of them relating to my childhood are particularly entertaining.

It's taken me a couple of hours, and I've written about 1500 words about my childhood, and I discover that my style is very wordy and not particularly amusing. I am caught up in detail, and one though leads to another so that the narrative is long and not very structured. But it's been an interesting adventure, writing with the thought of being read, rather than just writing for my own pleasure.

As a writer, I still have so much to learn, but I do understand that your own life isn't really interesting to anyone else, and to make it entertaining you have to be creative (not necessarily fictional) and apply your imagination so that whatever you are saying, there is a reason, pace and outcome to the piece. I don't think I've succeeded yet, but at least I understand what is needed. I'll post an excerpt, and then I'll revise it in future.

A life on the wing



Cormorant



The last weekend in September I spent time away from a computer, away from technology and my every day life. I have always enjoyed bird watching, so the opportunity to spend three days in the company of fellow bird enthusiasts in the wilds of Norfolk was delightful.

I won't list birds all the birds or go into detail about walks along hedgerows, patient waiting to see if we could spot the elusive 'yellow browed warbler' (who did not appear); I could mention standing in fields with scopes and binoculars focused on distant soaring buzzards, I will mention my delight at watching the gannets plummet into the ocean. All in all it was a most relaxing and enjoyable time, and I learned a lot.



Godwits and stuff



The other members of the group who were, without exception, lovely people.We were all 'bird nerds' together. I took great delight in learning more about birdsong, in absorbing little snippets that will help me recognise more birds and to know where to look and what to look for. I particularly enjoyed the fact that when someone saw a bird (whether we were driving, walking or standing watching) everyone was interested and keen to see what had been spotted. Chris, our group leader and very knowledgeable guide, would often pull the van over to the side of the road (mostly tiny single track Norfolk byways) and point to something in the field like a grey partridge or a rock dove. It was no inconvenience to be interested in birds - it was our shared passion.





I have often bird watched, but usually on my own, or incidentally when out doing something else. At other times my bird watching has been quite often been a reason to get left behind. But for three whole days we were completely indulged.



Thousands of birds at Snettisham. Knot, dunlin,
oyster catcher, to name but a few



The highlight of the trip was the early morning visit to Snettisham. We saw some forty or fifty thousands birds on the mudflats, waking up from their overnight roost and getting ready to spread out along the coast as the tide receded and the day warmed. The most spectacular point was when something spooked the birds and they would rise in a cloud - the sun catching their wings, creating a golden shimmering cloud.



I had an amazing time and will definintely try and go again one day. Maybe I'll take a friend, if I can find someone else who is as prepared as me (and the other birders) to stop what you are doing and just peer into a hedge for fifteen minutes in the hope that...

For more info, visit Chris's website: http://www.norfolkbirding.com/

Falling for Henry

Red hair, good looking, athletic, young, doesn't say a lot and loves to be hugged. Who wouldn't fall for Henry? Well both Carol and I did on our weekend visit to Eastbourne where we met him.

Around 30 years ago Carol and I first met at Carnation Foods, in East Finchley. We were both in the marketing department for petfoods - specifically Go Cat and Go Dog (as well as some other dodgy stuff like marrow meal and a liquid slop for sick cats). We had a high time in those days, when corporate responsibility probably extended as far as 'how much wine should there be with the directors' lunch today?'.

So - thanks to certain on line social media - five of us got together again to relive old days and just find out how old we'd all grown. Carol and I, who have remained friends throughout the intervening years, drove down to Eastbourne on Saturday morning. We went the 'scenic route' which included as many road works as we could possibly find!

Three and a half hours later, in drizzling rain, we reached the seaside. Well, we reached the brand new harbour complex where Mike (my old boss) and his wife Linda now live. With Henry.

Norman, who we also used to work for, had already arrived when we turned up at Mike and Linda's. Norm has the dubious honor of being responsible for two out of the five times I really lost my temper in my life! He's mellowed, shall we say? I guess so have I.

We had a pleasant lunch and caught up a little on 'old times'. My! The things that the bosses did that we didn't know about! And it's funny how they've forgotten the dart board and rowing machine in the store cupboard and the lunchtime Scrabble games.

Mike showed us the sights of Eastbourne - taking us to Pevensey Castle, the old church at West Ham, the pier, and then driving us over to Beachy Head. However, the drizzle which was by now solid cloud, meant we couldn't even see the side of the road, let alone any views. Henry came with us. The love affair began...

We went back to the house and had a lovely lunch, and awaited the arrival of Mark, the other team member who had managed to attend this extraordinary meeting of the Pet Foods Division, Carnation Foods, 1979-81. Mark duly arrived an hour late, which is not that late for him we are told. We caught up on some stories about Nick (you weren't there, but we found out lots!), Chris, Reg and Keith and started, bizarrely, a body count. The more stories we told, the more people we knew who were now dead. By the end of a delicious curry cooked by Linda, we were up to around 78.

The evening continued with some wine, a trip to the station (to return Norman to London) and a bit of music. Many, many years ago Mike, Bryan and I had played in a band together: 'Mike Mucous and the Membranes'. We sang a little, played a little, but mostly we talked.

At around 1am we headed for bed. Carol and I shared a room and talked a bit longer, of all things about our fathers. But in the morning - the sun came streaming through the window and there was no way either of us could sleep in.

At 7.30am Sunday morning we were both wide awake. By 8am we were up, dressed and heading out the door with Henry. We didn't know the area at all, but Henry did. He took us straight to the beach, then along the harbour, all round the marina and then back to the house. We had no need to worry, he knew exactly where to go. I think that's where he fell for Carol - when I went back to the side road to deposit the duly delivered bag of litter, he stayed by her side until I reappeared.

We didn't exactly kidnap Henry, he came with us willingly enough (one sight of the lead and he was ours!) but when we got back to the house, Linda and Mike had gone to the beach ('where's Henry?' the usual walkers kept asking them?). We set out again to meet them coming back.

The weather this morning was fine and warm, a beautiful blue sky creating the most amazing backdrop to the beach and the scenery. Mike and Linda took us out for a drive - first into Eastbourne where we parked Carol's car (explanation later) and then on, in theirs, to Beachy Head.

This time the views were spectacular! And, of course, with approximately one suicide per week, we upped our body count considerably (by now we were counting friends of friends, and would have even accepted third party referrals if we could only get above 100!).

Beachy Head is beautiful - why do people choose this place to end their lives? I guess it's not just all the media coverage and the history it has of suicides, but also the fact that it is a beautiful place to make your exit.

After the trip to Beachy Head we drove to see the Wilmington Long Man. He's a bit like the Cerne Abbas Giant, but without certain distinctive features.

After that we were dropped back in Eastbourne and went to visit Carol's relative, Robert. He lives (at the weekends) in a beautiful apartment in a 1930's Art Nouveau block at the posh end of town. In his 70's he is very active and still working. He's a researcher on British government and Empire documents. I'd never met the man before but we spent a lovely two hours with him.

Heading home we went the 'other way' and saved a whole hour on the journey back! I really appreciated Carol driving - and enjoyed arguing with the SatNav (as I always do). It was a lovely weekend, full of talk and good food and good company. The lovely Henry, though, stole both our hearts.

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Arizona Travels - episode 1

Here I am back in Arizona again - it's been two years since I was last here. This time I came in a warmer time of year - I say warmer, it's 98 Deg F as I write! Well, outside, I'm in the shade inside of course, with AC and cold drinks on tap.

Actually the heat has not bothered me at all, I've covered up in sun cream and worn a hat and cool clothes, always had plenty of water and my asthma has been absent! This climate suits me (mind you, not sure how I'd cope in the summer as the temperatures soar above 100...)

Nadine's house is in San Tan Valley, to the south west of Phoenix. It's an hour to downtown along the freeways, and round here it's pretty much scrubby desert with houses and towns plonked in the middle of it all. Nadine's yard (garden to you and me) backs on to a golf course and there is a metal rail fence so you can see the golfers as they play. You hear 'shucks' (or words to that effect) as they thwack the ball off to the next tee, you hear '*&*&*' when you hear a whack as the ball has hit some house, and lots of happy chatter as women, men and children send their balls off on the appropriate trajectory down the course.

Golf courses here are green - but only green in patches. In between it's coarse desert - yellow brown dirt with the odd seguaro cactus, mesquite tree and some other little bushes. Dashing about between the sparse vegetation are the ground squirrels - dust coloured rodents who live in little holes in the non-green golf course. They are driven to dive for their holes not only when speedy golf carts shoot past, but when the shadow of the Harris hawk flies overhead or a rather ardent grackle (like an all-black magpie) gets a little too close.

So, sitting in the garden alone I see lots of things - including the little brown lizards who scoot along the walls and, when they reach a sunny spot, stop to do little push ups to keep their bellies from burning. There are quail who wander past, verdin (little greenish birds) and finches, mourning doves and white winged doves too. I could sit all day in the yard just watching.

The multi-coloured golfer is, of course, the most amusing of these creatures, but I do prefer the wildlife.