Things have been getting a little weirder. That’s what happens when you have the unpredictability of kids on board. Katy (the individual one) has been trying to collect pets, or at least inventing new ones. All of them are called “Tony”. Only Katy knows why this is, but it makes perfect sense in Katyworld.

Gus (the 2 yr old) on the other hand has been using the little vocabulary he has to the extreme. New words are; “ferry”, “chocolate finger” and “strapped in”. A typical daily conversation now goes thus….

“Daaad”.

“Yes, Gus?”

“Want a chocolate finger”.

“Not now Gus, maybe later”

Silence for about a second.

“Daaa-aad”

“Yes, Gus?”

“Want to go on ferry”.

“Later, Gus”.

“Ferry, ferry, ferry, ferry, ferry,”

“ Daa-aad, where are you?”

“I’m here, Gus”

“Oh, yeah”

“Chocolate finger?”

“Daaad?

“What is it Gus”

“I’m strapped in”

“Good”

“Where are you?”

etc etc… this goes on all day every day in various forms until I open a bottle of wine, or just give in and laugh like a man who should be institutionalised.

The other 2 argue and hit one another.

I imagine a time in the future, when Jo and I are doing this alone like normal people and actually having fun.

We are now back on the mainland where there are things like shops and PUBS. The islands were great actually. I even managed a surf on Vatersay. Not only no-one surfing the clean 2ft waves, no-one on the beach. Even with added sunshine. I’d recommend a trip, it’s going to be hit and miss with the conditions, but that’s why it’s so quiet, innit?

Off to Glasgow next for family get- together. The New Kid gets to meet some of the clan. Should be interesting……….

Oh, nearly forgot. Caught 4 (!) sea trout. I was so stunned I actually nearly fell in. (All called Tony)

An Edit

Last blog(s) were of variable quality, to put it kindly. This was due partly to lack of practice, but mostly to finding ourselves on a campsite with intermittent wi-fi (a campsite we were only in because we couldn’t get on the ferry and had to wait 30 hours for the next one) so I thought I’d better upload what pics we had while we could. It was also done sitting outside the toilet block while the midges ate my face, as the van was parked outside due to the site being full.It’s a rubbish excuse, but, hey, that’s how we ROCK!

Anyway, it’s time to fill in the blanks….

Met a German dressed head to toe in full Scottish clobber. I thought he was part of the entrance fee at Dunvegan Castle, but no, he’d bought an “instant Scotsman” get up from the shop. Best part of £600 is my guess. I’m imagining myself in Germany on holiday with my family, with the desire to get “local”, and investing in the full lederhosen kit and just walking around if this was normal behaviour. The authorities, I’m sure, would be informed.

Things have been kicking off north of the border in keeping with the misbehaviour down south. Gus has been say “No”, to pretty much everything we suggest. I have invested in a water pistol to keep things under control, but it’s just gotten worse. There’s mashed potato all over the windows and seats. Honestly it makes me feel ashamed to be Scottish.

Here in Lewis, it is frowned upon to go to the swingpark on a Sunday. RESPECT THE SABBATH!

It’s a pretty hard existence up here. Not helped by the fact that all buildings are coated in (suicide) grey pebbledash. The landscape is stunning. I just cant see why you wouldn’t want to make buildings fit in with it. Having said that, perhaps it’s a kind of camouflage in keeping with the horizontal rain and 90 mph winds. At least in Scandinavia they paint the houses nice colours.

On the wave front, I have surfed (!) Machrihanish (pants) and hopefully tomorrow Eoropaidh, which I have been reliably informed by the surfers in the next van is “flat”. I’ve had a look and if my local break was half as good I’d be out in my underpants. It is however 30 mph offshore and a 15 minute walk. With my 9ft 4′ board I’d be in Antartica before my first wave. Forecast for tomorrow?,…. 33 mph offshore. I spoke to a lady who was cleaning the fantastic community-run children’s playpark as we were leaving. “Is it always so windy here?”, I asked. “Yes, it is always windy, but it’s only a breeze today. Normally it’s about 70 mph, and we’ve had 125mph a few times”. I’m feeling a bit wimpish now for not dragging my board down to the beach as I watch Gus being blown over for the umpteenth time this morning.

We are now discovering the most beautiful white sand beaches, often with very basic campsites and honesty boxes. £2 per adult is the normal fee. You can camp pretty much anywhere though.

It’s a shame we haven’t had much in the way of sunshine to photograph them at their best. We’ve only seen about 3 vehicles with boards on the roof. One motorhome with a Scottish couple, one T4 with a Spanish couple and a Barnstaple-registered VWwith a Devon flag parked up at Callanish standing stones. As we were wandering around, I was keeping an eye out to see if I could spot the possible occupants. An attractive blonde lady walked past and said something whilst smiling at me. Later she came up and started chatting and making small talk while Gus was being cute (Jo had gone back to the car). She seemed a little coy and eventually said goodbye. She had an American accent and so I surmised she wasn’t from Barnstaple. Anyway I’m thinking she’s thinking I’m kind of cool and attractive, when suddenly she comes running back up to me and says, out of breath, “I just wanted to give you this”. I looked down as she hands me…. her number? No, a copy of “The Watchtower”.

German couple on pre war BMW's (4 month tour!)

From Glasgow we headed for Campbeltown to catch up with more old friends from way back. Eric and Sandra live an “alternative” lifestyle. Some may call it a parallel universe. Whatever it is our kids loved it. The have a pet rook, called “Rookie”, who is rather demanding. Rookie eats dog food fed from a tin by their middle child, Laura. When they go away, Rookie must come too, as he can’t buy Pedigree Chum on his own. (No cash, or pockets for that matter). Eric and family have a camper van too, so off we all went, bird and all, camping south of Campbeltown on a beach on the Mull of Kintyre. It was stunning and remote. So remote that we got stuck going through a stream to get there. Luckily Eric had the foresight (or something) to go ahead in an old Ford Fiesta, which ended up sort of towing us whilst removing its undercarriage, whilst the rest of us pushed the van free. More friends of Eric and Sandra arrived also in a motorhome. Despite talking shite and being banjo’ed all evening no-one mentioned the fact that Andrew (the late arrival), had been married to and had kids with my old long-term girlfriend Roseanne McCann. A great night was rounded off by me floating off to bed wondering if David Icke is in fact, Jesus.

Eric Evil aka BeeboBub

It was the usual shambolic departure. I had assured the cleaner that the house “wasn’t that bad”, but she advised me that it took a full 8 hours to clean, after our best efforts. I literally was throwing dolls houses and assorted toys into the attic before locking the door and bolting for Northampton. Turns out we never made it past Bristol before the kids started whining. We hadn’t figured on Gus being bored out of his mind in 5 mins flat. Cue iphone and Google for a freecamp – bingo! Portishead delivered. Views, pub, park, cafe and duckpond. One of the best overnight stops ever and in the UK without the dreaded “no overnight camping” sign. (Check out www.magbaztravels.com).

Jo’s mum next (as Northampton, as everyone knows is on the road from Devon to Scotland). Still it took us towards the Peak District which was absolutely stunning. More pubs, cycling and great freeparks. We honestly thought we wouldn’t find too many places to park, especially in England, but it’s been great. The map indicated Sheffield wasn’t too far, so I phoned an old pal from way back who I hadn’t seen for 10 years. Eamonn (and Susanna his Finnish wife) were home. Not only that but Katya and Marijka their 2 daughters whom I used to babysit 20 years ago were too. Susanna organized the kids (ours) with baking a Finnish bilberry pie with berries they’d brought back from Finland the day before. It were luvly!

Gus as Jo and Mick Hucknal's love child

Onwards to Eureka! in Halifax for kids hands on science type theme park, then Newcastle-upon Tyne to 7 Stories – possibly the best kids place I’ve ever seen. We were put on to it by an lovely Geordie-turned-Irish lady we met way back in Thailand whose sister founded it a few years back. It’s in an old warehouse building with – wait for it 7 storeys. Based on the idea that there are basically only 7 tales or variations on a theme, it’s a bookworm’s delight. Regular readings and signings by children’s authors (Alex T Smith was there when we were in), the staff do reading every couple of hours. Cafe, giant bookshop, dressing up floor, all the original artwork from all your favourite books. We couldn’t get the kids to leave.

Next up Scotland. Thought we might make Glasgow but tiredness got the better of us. When you’re not looking for somewhere to park up overnight there are places galore. It’s never the case when you’re desperate. On the outskirts of a small village called Carnwarth we spotted a disused petrol station and pulled in. Everything seemed normal until maybe around 3am I heard the sound of a truck. I rolled over and went back to sleep. This happened several times, but in my nocturnal state I couldn’t be quite sure if I’d dreamt it or not. In the end the crunching of gears and slamming of doors got the better of me. I climbed down in my pants and looked out the window while Jo snored on. It was 5am and we were surrounded on all sides by cars, vans and giant articulated lorries. There were blokes everywhere looking angry. We’d parked right in the middle of an HGV compound. I had to reverse out while they all looked on.

We arrived a lot earlier than planned outside my brother’s house and had to keep the kids entertained until we safely thought they could ring the doorbell without causing panic. 7.30am we sent them in, all in their Jim Jams while we watched from the van. Gus had no idea whose bell he was ringing, but seemed keen on the idea anyway.

It was Gus’ birthday next day and the kids had a great time with their cousins, opening his presents and generally having fun – thanks everybody (especially Fiona) for making it all happen.

The giant mechanical elephant of Nantes

We have been using the coffee machine, which given the fact that although I like the idea of coffee, the stuff usually gives me a headache and makes me feel slightly nauseous, is a Big Thing for me. This is what I’m like after one cup:
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6jluj_le-cafe-oldelaf-english-subtitles_music

Surprisingly though, I’m enjoying it in a continental kind of way, and considering taking up smoking to look less of a tourist. Oh,  and not smiling. Restuarants take not smiling to another dimension however, and I often wonder how an American would deal with such apparent (to us Brits anyway), rudeness. It’s basically the same every time. Go to a restuarant / bar / cafe, sit down, get ignored, then when you ask if you can see the menu are told they are not serving anymore. I can see people cooking in the kitchen and food coming and going. It’s still lunchtime. Is it the kids? Being not French? Or just can’t be arsed with our shit attemp at the language? Lots of very fast French and shrugging of shoulders ensues, which I translate roughly in my head as “Fuck you baldy, if you are not French, then take this giant baguette and shove it up your foreign arse. We invented food. Tourists such  as yourself are a threat to the French way of life. I have more important things to do, like smoke fags while ignoring people who I am supposed to serve.   Gerard Depardieu also sends his regards to your mother,” or something.

Despite this we are having a great time and have been taking the kids to do some fun stuff, namely,The Puy du Fou (historical theme park with re-enactment shows), The Galerie des Machines (which houses the giant mechanical elephant that visited London a few years back, among other stuff) and La Poete Ferrailleur (the poet of ironmongery, I think). During one performance including about 6 lions a couple of tigers, and several nervous  Christians  (we are in the Colliseum), the doomed slaves run into a wooden hut, pursued by a massive lion. A huge roar comes through the speakers as well as loads of screams and the sound of tearing flesh, then silence. Katy: “Dad, did that lion just eat those people?”, “Yes, Katy, they can be quite cruel in France”. Katy: “Oh, OK”, then continues eating her smarties ice cream.   Here are some snaps.

on the move

Monsters vs alien

?

Bonkers

The French defeat the English (twice a day)

Gladiator, lions, geese, slaves, tigers, oxen, ostriches!

Good thing they're not Christians

There’s a great child-like sense of imagination running through all this stuff, and not an Alton Towers style ride in sight. Everything is hand made on site and often made from re-cycled bits and bobs. It reminds me of “The city of Lost Children”, (Juenet /Caro, who did “Delicatessen”)

Talking of films, they do know how to make a great movie, and their animation is right up there with the Japanese as is their love of comics. Music however is a different ball game. It’s amazing the influence of the UK on the rest of the planet. Taking a browse through our hosts’ music collection reveals about 40% UK bands, (Radiohead, Clash, Roxy Music, Oasis etc), about 30% US stuff and the remainder is made up of classical, world music and French bands. Try listening to French pop on the radio and you’ll soon understand why. Air and Daft Punk are the only bands I can think of who had any influence at all.

Anyway, it’s the last day in Nantes and today we head north to St Malo, then spend a couple of days heading along the coast back to Roscoff, so this is probably the last post from France and possibly the last post until the big Celtic UK west coast extravaganza coming up mid July. Once again giving up our lovely comfortable home to live in a van for 6 weeks. I did order a memory foam mattress from Amazon today, as going from the van to a very comfortable bed was particulary noticeable this time. I can’t believe we spent 7 months sleeping in it last time.  Maybe we’re just getting old.

Despite being inside a 50ft mechanical elephant, our children still fall asleep....

Gus and I discuss Anglo-French relations over a couple of beers

We have all settled in to life on the road again. Gus was a worry, as being (a lot) more mobile, we imagined that being strapped in the car seat would drive him (or us) insane. But a combination of short drives, enough stuff to destroy and food seems to keep him happy enough. The girls enjoy not looking out of the windows and staring at a TV screen.

Une cidre, s'il vous plait

Cider comes in tea cups.... but not tea

As some of you may know, we have decided on this trip to have a go at house-swapping (www.homeforexchange.com). An email arrived earlier this year suggesting a swap in Nantes for a week over Easter. Fine by me. The house looked OK and the area is just North of where we got to last year before having to head back for the unfortunate funeral of Grandpa. A couple of emails later I have smugly booked the ferrry and organized the whole thing. Ta Da!. I inform the boss, who instantly tells me that the kids are at school that week. “Didn’t you even check the term times?”. I refuse to answer in case of further incriminating myself, and decide that perhaps beer may provide a way of making me look less of a twat. I’ve tried this tactic on several occasions, desperately hoping against hope that this time it will be different. It isn’t. I am sent to plead to the headmistress explaining that I am a complete idiot and have made a mistake that nobody in their right mind could make. She believes me (I’m not sure how to take this), and gives the kids carte blanche to miss yet more time off school.

The very stylish 70's maison de Nantes

The only contact we have had with our exchangers is by email, and they only asked us one question – “Do you have an espresso coffee machine?”,  I replied that we had a caffetiere, but like most Brits existed on a diet of Tetley’s (and gin in the Mrs’ case).

Never far from a bottle.

Upon arrival at the house in Nantes (fantastic, 70′s retro chic!), it became apparent that our mouldy jar of Nescafe in the cupboard may not entirely satisfy the tastes of our Gallic guests. In the corner of their kitchen sits a machine that wouldn’t look out of place in the Cafe de Paris. It probably cost more than our van. In fact some of the fixtures and fittings in this place are pretty collectable and are worth a franc or two. Not exactly the kind of home you would exchange with just anyone. Not exactly the kind of home you would exchange with us.  Even worse, they left us out lovely local wines, loads of expensive looking chocolate things for the kids and a box full of translated maps and stuff to do. What did we leave? A German (!) lodger and a packet of Hobnobs. The shame! It being Easter, Gus has managed to put chocolate handprints on lots of beautiful surfaces, most notably on the stunning floor to ceiling glass doors and windows that abound around the house. Never mind, we can spend a couple of days putting everything right before we leave, let’s sit down and have a nice cuppa………..

But where’s the kettle? C’est une maison sans bouilloire! We have been boiling water in pans, run out of tea bags and are reduced to drinking Earl Grey tea bags we found in the back of the van. Still, despite one freak flash hailstorm the weather has been tremendous, kids great, house beyond our expectations and we still have Nantes to explore as well as the North coast on the way back. We’ll do another blog soon as there’s loads of bonkers French theme park stuff to cover. A bientot, mes amis!

Freecamping, Devon style

It’s Half- Term and about time we got back in the saddle, so to speak. With at least 2 days of glorious sunshine predicted we set off to visit Antony and Deborah and their son Henry down on the farm in Northleigh. Anthony’s dismissal of the lanes being difficult to manage up to the farm made us laugh (nervously) as we prayed nothing was coming towards us en route. Hedgerows scraped the sides as we drove on roads we would never have attempted on our 12,500 mile European jaunt. We got there in the end and wondered where we were going to park 3.5 tonnes and 7 metres of motorhome. In a field, it turns out. A field of cowpats.

There was no way we were getting out of there under our own steam, but farms have 4×4′s and such like, so we settled down to dinner and some fine wine and decided to deal with it in the morning. The setting was stunning and easily as beautiful as anything we had come across on our trip. It was nice to get behind the wheel again, and after spending 7 months in the van, we settled in as though we had never left her. Like putting on an old comfy pair of slippers. The van is like another member of the family now and Gus and the girls were just as happy as us to be out and about again.

Next day after a lovely stroll around the farm it was time to deal with the exit strategy. Anthony’s Land Rover (circa 1969) was called into service, but alas, even with me pushing at the back, it was no match for our heavyweight beast. We were losing rubber at a rate of knots as the wheels buried themselves into the field.

1st attempt

Next up was the tractor, which looked a lot like one I’d seen in a book I read to Gus recently. The kind that you draw for kids, but  pretty useful when it comes to extracting far larger vehicles from sloping cow-pat infested fields. With a bit of to-ing and fro-ing we were out. Just another 12 point turn around a tight bend, about 5 miles down a single track path (reversing to let tractors past) and we were back on something resembling a road.

We set off for Lyme Regis, or more specifically Town Mill Bakery. This is Jo’s perfect bakery/eatery and I’ve got to agree, it is great. Help yourself to whatever you fancy (focaccia, soup, cakes, slices of pizza etc) and pay when you leave. All very Californian and laid back, with cool music and a relaxed atmosphere. No fancy decor, just a big lean to with plywood walls.

Town Mill Bakery

The girls have been wearing their “Heelies”, which if you don’t have kids, are shoes with wheels in the heels. It’s the equivalent of leaving a skateboard at the bottom of the stairs in real time on a permanent loop. Deadly. Lyme Regis is a pretty good place to slide around in them, with a promenade and gentle slopes all around. Katy was first to go down with a thud, turning herself white with fright. Isabel was next up. I think she forgot she was wearing them and started running down a hill. She hit the ground pretty hard, putting her arm out to break her fall, but breaking her arm instead. A first-aider assured us that nothing was broken, but we know our kids. She was in shock and we ended up heading to Exeter A&E where she was put in a cast. We freecamped overnight below Haytor on Dartmoor (naughty) as it was too late to do anything by the time we got out of the hospital.

Before

It tipped it down overnight and we awoke to fog, gales and drizzle. We opted for lunch at Widecombe -in-the-Moor, but not before visiting “Trago Mills”  near Newton Abbott. I googled it on my phone to get the address and came across a review on Trip Advisor describing the place as “What Lidl would look like, if they did jumble sales”.  I couldn’t have put it better myself. Thus ended our little jaunt as Izzy was a bit out of action and Dartmoor in the rain is not for the faint hearted.

....after

Well, it’s not quite how we planned it, but then the whole thing wasn’t much planned from the start. The girls and I have spent the last 10 days in Loches and Brittany/Normandy, while Jo and Gus have been helping her mum and sister plan her dad’s funeral back home.  As Jo said, a sad end to a great trip.  We caught up with some old friends and their kids, which really helped take their minds off things.  Grandpa was very special to them, and I’m not convinced that they fully understand the situation even yet.

Spending so much time together in each other’s company has been amazingly bonding. I’m not sure we will ever be so close again.  Not having Jo around is just weird.  I miss her more than I can describe. The wee man is also hugely missed, but the van does smell better and has a rather less manic air about it. Cant wait to see him laugh again though….

The campsite in Loches had kids’ entertainment in the evenings, and a special mention has to go to William and Diane, the clowns with performing dogs and cats. A show so terrible that I wanted to instantly become an animal rights activist and strap a bomb to myself and throw myself headlong onto the stage. The animals and William and Diane would have thanked me in Hell. The kids on the other hand thought it was the single best thing they had ever seen, and re-enacted parts of the show for days afterwards,  tears of laughter streaming down their faces. I have a terrible feeling that as time passes this act will be the only thing they remember from the whole trip.

We have been fairly busy the last few days. It always feels good to get on the road again. The girls and I headed north, visiting ‘The Enchanted Forest’ en route. It’s a fun park with nobody operating the rides. There are, from what I could determine, 3 staff, who sort of man the admission, cafe, rides and all the attractions, only they don’t. It’s A DIY funpark. The dodgems are on all the time, and you just jump in a car for as long as you want, then abandon it until someone else jumps in. Honestly there were were kids in tears as their faces were smashed against the steering wheel.  Seatbealts? No chance. There was also a little train circuit, and we waited ages for someone to come before realizing that you just chuck the kids in, then hold down an adult-height switch to start it up, then let go when you want them back. It’s the antithesis of ‘elf and safety gone mad I tell you!

A day’s drive brought us to Le Mont St Michel, which despite the tourist hordes was actually brilliant. The kids get in free and I bought a “Billet Noir”, which got us in until midnight. (We could park the van right outside overnight). Unbeknown to me, the place is transformed from 7pm and the entire abbeys, churches and dungeons etc are turned into art instalations, giving the place an entirely different feel from our daytime visit. Sound and light were everywhere and at times it was pretty creepy. Some rooms had musicians playing everything from harps to harpsichords, cellos, flutes and oboes, all in an avant garde haunting style. One room was just a very loud pulsating heartbeat, with an altar, red light and dry ice. The tourists had long gone and we had the place to ourselves more or less, making it even more enthralling for the kids.

It’s unbelievable that in two days we will be back in Blighty. The funeral will be somewhat sobering , especially for the kids.  And then after that, back home in Braunton at the weekend.  Curry in the Lion, Saturday night, anyone?

We don’t expect to do any further blog updates for a while, except possibly a final reckoning and round-up when we’re all back home again in a couple of weeks. So, au revoir for now, and thanks for sticking with us this far.