Have you ever been mistaken for a doppelganger? I have. More than once.



Is it something to do with the way I look perhaps? Am I too ordinary? Am I not at all unique in the way that I aspire to be (doesn’t everyone?) Are my clothes too ‘everyday’?




I have a theory about these complete strangers who come up to me and ask if you are “anything to with so-an-so” or “whether you have lived in such-and-such”. No, I don’t think they are just using this as an excuse to try to chat me up (I wish;). They are just bored, or maybe living in fear that some horrible, embarrassing misdemeanour from their past is going to catch-up with them and seek out its revenge. Perhaps their insecurities force them to seek out any potential emotional damage in some kind of irrational self-inflicted obsession.

I had a weird experience of this on our latest holiday. I was aware of this guy staring at me every time we walked through the hotel and he was around. Sad git I thought – 50-something. You know, the kind of guy who sits in his too-small trunks and sunbathes all day until he (as J likes to call it) ‘lobsters himself’ and ends up the colour and texture of a very cheap over-cooked sausage.

“Did you get married in Thailand?” he asked me, out of the blue at the bar one night.
Bizarre.
“No” I said (please God get the message)
“Oh” he says, rather disappointed.
Small embarrassed pause….
Then, trying again..
“Have you ever taken drugs?”
(where is he going with this exactly? Who is this wierdo?)

How odd that, even when I explain (teacher-training patience firmly secured) that, No, my name isn’t Susan, that No, I haven’t ever lived in Bath and that NO! J isn’t a GP that I met 10 years ago – this idiot still insisted that I apparently might be someone that he lived with for a year and a half 17 years ago (when I was 20? MMmmmm maybe I would remember that? Just maybe?) Did I change my name then?

Then I'm reminded why J and I have this unwritten rule that we never - NEVER talk to people whilst on holiday (not unless we have to that is). We spend so much of our lives talking to people that we don't want to talk to - that NO! this is OUR week OFF! We will be rude if we have to be! But of course we're English - we have to be civilised. It's in our genes....

(View outside the hotel)


Turns out this guy is apparently a teacher (yes, how did you guess) of RE in an ‘academy’ (oh, I wonder why) in Maidstone of all places (If only I’d kept my mouth shut about living in Kent).

Why is it that some people have to seek out people that might possibly have something remotely ANYTHING remotely (however insignificant) ‘in common’ with them. Why? Haven’t we all got something in common with each other – if we talked for long enough (and maybe got drunk enough) that is?




Anyway, I’ve posted my comments about this particular hotel on my Tripadvisor site (incase anyone’s interested. Not recommended really – but it was good to get away for some proper sunshine). Reading - that's what we did - we read and read and read. the best one was Paul Today's The Girl on the Landing. I love the way this guy builds such utterly boring but at the same time fascinatingly interesting characters.




Meanwhile, the good news is I’ve won another short story competition. Well, OK, not ‘won’ exactly – just an ’honorable mention’ (whatever that means). It’s to be published though – so another small victory. Ho hum, one day….when there’s more hours in the day….

Yes, the view of the Giant at Cerne Abbas. We escaped to this little dog-friendly pub a few weeks ago called the Piddle Inn. On the banks of the river Piddle (Trout season just finished, sadly)in such an idyllic spot surrounded by unspoilt hills and rivers and woodlands. When I say 'unspoilt' that is with the exception of the Giant of course. He's supposedly an imposter - not at all as old as the stone circles and other chalk things on hilsides up and down the country, but perhaps as new as 400 years old (!!!) Recently re-chalked and looking in his prime now, apart from National Trust won't actually let you get too near him for fear of the land slipping away.

Glorious landscape around - this was just before the weather closed in and we had to seek refuge in a nearby pub.



Cerne Abbas is a lovely little village with surprisingly quite alot of very nice pubs. Not at all the touristy place I half expected to see. proper pubs serving proper beer and pub grub at reasonable prices. It was lovely and quiet too. I love to escape to where there's not too many people. we had planned to eat at the nearby Michelin pub The Brace at Plush, but ran out of time. Fortunately, our own pub menu was full of lovely fish dishes and organic and/or local meat and veg. I met the chef, Simon. Very talented guy. We'll keep this pub a secret otherwise if they get in the Guide their prices will inevitably go up. As it was, we had a fantastic meal and a bottle of wine for about £50.

Dizzy thought the pub facilities particularly comfortable after a day-long walk on the hills... Must come back for the fly-fishing in the Spring....

From Yorkshire Scupltures to ones slightly further afield in Barcelona. This was one on the beach near to to the Michelin-starred restaurant at the top of a cable car tower (!) You would never guess to look at the surrounding area. It's strange to have a sprawling massive city right next to a sandy beach - and the sea breeze made the heat much more bearable..






There was all sorts of weird and wonderful sculptures and buildings. But the Gaudi Cathedral and Park were definitely the highlights. As K said - it was like being in a fairy tale! A bit of research revealed that before he was tragically run over by a local tram in his seventies (apparently he dressed so humbly, no-one realised that it was him until some days later - he looked like a tramp!) he regularly took some magic mushrooms to ease the symptoms of his arthritis. Hence the fantasy-like buildings and colours. Walt Disney eat your heart out!








This is a city you could walk around for hours. Hop on the bus for 20euros and jump off for a few minutes when you get bored of listening to the Spanish guy harping on about the wonderful shopping opportunities in the area - much better to look at the architecture instead!

What does Egypt conjure up in your mind? Pyramids, sand and creepy, smelly, dark-skinned men in white galabayas shouting "Baksheesh"?
MMmm, yeah, maybe. And yes the hassle for all the tips can be a pain. But the warmth of that amazing sun and the clean sea and the amazing food? It's definitely worth it - not least because it's so cheap. And the people have an amazing sense of humour!


This was the view from our room - lovely pool...



This is the view from the hotel's beach bar - perfect! So quiet and private - behind you just miles and miles of desert sand....We had to drive through the desert from Sharm El Sheik (about an hour) with an armed guard of course (you never know where those terrorists are) past the Bedouin camps. Sad to see the influence of Western culture has permeated even these isolated communities...brick houses instead of tents and plastic water tanks outside each house...







The mad chefs at one of the regular BBQs by the pool. Enough whale-fish (whatever that is)! beware the bones....

Below is what they did to my bear! Poor Burton!



The trick is to bring some pound coins with you. Their Egyptian Pounds are worthless (about 11=£1), give away a couple of quid (to strategic people) and they will be your friends for your stay - anything you want is there - I mean it too! These people literally can't do enough for you. It's in their nature to be as hospitable as they can. Not like anything you experience anywhere else in the world...

Last weekend we escaped again to Wales to the place where we were this time last year.

We visited the wonderful Harbourmaster at Aberearon again (I won't bore you with that again - but the food was just a good) and found New Quay where there's a beautiful quaint harbour - with a marvellous sandy beach!

Here we discovered a new game to keep the two lads occupied: "Here's a pound. Off you go to the Pound Shop (loads in these little rural Welsh towns as you will know) and find something unique/funny/practical as a present for each of us." What a laugh.


Prize for the most eccentric went to C who bought one of those in-flight blow-up air pillows (yes, exactly the same as the ones you see in the airports for about £10+). He said it was so comfortable he put it on and wore it for the rest of the day (mad these Welsh);) And the most creative went to C's friend who found a fluoresent-coloured car-washing glove that resembled a bath mat. Couldn't resist buying one for J (who's obsessive about keeping the cars clean for some unknown reason).

Copster Green is a quiet, rural Lancashire village. Not the place I’d expect to find a collection of Ferraris and Porsches parked up outside an unlikely roadside Chinese restaurant.

Yu and You’s is a funky modern restaurant with highly rated freshly prepared food and excellent staff. We stopped off late at night after a dinner at the Michelin-starred Eastcote Manor (conveniently, just up the road) so couldn’t sample the food (maybe next time). By then, the evening and the restaurant had evolved (or deteriorated, depending on your perspective) into a cocktail bar with a loud and busy dance floor. The DJ was very good – if not a little out of his depth here (e.g. the only Phil Collins he could find was 'you can't hurry love' (!!!) Drinking and driving seems to be an accepted and necessary method of socialising ‘round these parts – and I was glad we had a taxi booked - one of the younger celebs we saw departing in his sports car with three young ladies on his arms(s) definitely was over the limit. Other famous people at the bar included some motorcyclist (never heard of him)…

Dinner earlier at Nortcote Manor, by the way, had been very very good. Not as good as some other Michelin-starred places I’ve been (listen to me) but still very good. It's proud of the chef, Nigel's history of retaining his star for about 10 years. Michelin aren’t usually so generous. What makes the place special is the small, homely atmosphere. It’s a gothic Victorian buiding, so lends itself well to the oak panelling and red carpets, but it isn't dark.

It was almost like sitting in someone’s front room for pre-dinner drinks, a bit like Rutland Water’s Hambleton Hall. Poor Craig had quite a challenge to explain the (in my view a bit too complex) menus to everyone and take all the orders. He made an excellent choice of wine for us (it's always an interesting test to ask the sommelier to choose something appropriate for the dishes we've ordered). There were a lot of staff, but unfortunately no-one (apart from Craig) seemed to really know what they were doing. They spilled the wine, delivered too much bread and didn’t refill the wine as often as I would have liked. Why didn’t they just leave the cutlery where it was rather than faffing around with it after every course? I made the mistake of ordering the goat (yes, I know, maybe the champagne had gone to my head). Not sure what I expected – but it didn’t deliver. The better choices around the table were the venison - no lets get this right "Loin of Roebuck" (excellent - no 'seminal' says J) and the beef. Interestingly there were no “inbetweeners” (sorbets etc) that you quite often get offered at a Michelin-starred place like this, but the time delay between courses was about right (if only they’d got round to the wine). The truly worthwhile ‘inbetweener’ was (of course) the word from the kitchen letting us know the rugby score (at which a cheer from our fellow diners was heard)! This was even more worthwhile as the kitchen-staff were French (he he=). The dining room was far too hot; it was warm outside so the log fire and radiators were overkill tonight. So we quickly escaped back to the lounge where the doors to the fanous gardens were opened and the whiskys and ports were waiting. Overall, very good, not as slick or stylish as I expected, but a really informal, enjoyable evening with great company - thanks to M & C:)

Next morning, we got up quite early to visit the nearby designer outlet place and with proper Lancashire bacon butties inside us ( - after all, it was at least 12 hours since we had eaten!) take up the opportunity of some excellent retail therapy (essential on a Sunday with a hangover). On the way home we inevitably we had to stop at the best local Farm shop in the area http://www.huntleys.co.uk/ (currently undergoing a refurb/expansion). We bought some excellent wild boar and other bits and bobs and treated ourselves to some award-winning and famous local ice-cream (cointreau and orange was the winning flavour) before hitting the motorways again.... picture to follow....

'It's all about making do' says DH - That's camping! the difficulty is in the packing (something He, of course, doesn't get involved with..) i.e. how do you pack the minimum amount of stuff for the maximum amount of comfort (or rather perhaps the minimum amount of inconvenience)??!! ? The trick is to think in sections of the day/night: e.g. the air-bed is a must for getting a decent night's sleep (as are my ear plugs - I'm a very light sleeper)! Tea bags and a kettle (that means (at the very minimum) a small gas canister, a lighter and a pint of milk for breakfast (!). The list goes on... and your car boot very soon fills up; with stuff that you never imagined you would need - but find yourself thinking 'but I can't possibly do without THAT' (e.g. iPod and speakers, (and maybe a bear ...))!!!
We stayed for the first time at the excellent South Penquite camp site which is probably the most unusual of all the campsites we've stayed at all over the world. Briefly - they are a working Organic (officially registered) livestock farm, near to the site of Brown Willy - no really that really is the name of the highest hill in Cornwall, and home to a number of ancient sites of standing stones and stone circles nearby to the legendary Athurian Tintagel. The farmer, Dominic Fairman (very dashing) and his large family are obviously not in it for the money -the camp site is not even half used and then declared 'fully booked' on the sign outside (!) Situated on a glorious southwest facing hill overlooking the unspoilt scenery of Bodmin Moor - you couldn't hope for a better location. No caravans or campers allowed - which also adds to the sense of 'making do': no serious campers here - only proper tents and hikers allowed. On the lower field is the 'Yurts' - the ready-made teepees with integral stoves and camp-beds (the added luxury comes at a price!) The facillities here were OK - nothing special. The showers are solar-powered (so best to get there at the end of the day rather than in the (luke warm, very busy) mornings). No tiles, only (apparently) recycled yoghurt pots as an interior plastic covering to the wooden buldings - maybe more of a gimmick than a worthwhile investment (?). Funnily enough, the new shower block doesn't include a loo block and the although it's lovely to have a large shower cubicle all to yourself (even if it is a coldish dribble of water on offer), it's rather frustrating to have to walk more than 50 feet away to the loo block to find the 3 (cold only) sinks to brush your teeth at (!). The only warm water available is at the washing-up sinks outside the shower-block (strange). Overall - rather an ill-thought-out arrangement - but hey, maybe stage 2 of their investment will include fitting sinks and loos in each cubicle too (!??)
What made up for this (let's be honest, nothing more than...) inconvenience was the excellent location, and general ambience of the place, which was summed-up by the drifting smell of evening smoke from everyone's old-fashioned camp fires (£4 for logs from the farmhouse): something you are rarely allowed on regular camp sites in the UK. Also the daily visits from the groups of ducks and geese and turkeys which went on 'hoovering-up' sessions round the whole campsite, in search of remnants from each group's BBQ. Not sure whether J would have been happy with this lot on top of MY car....
But the quiet sunsets were something very special....

Importantly, there are two pubs nearby (i.e. within biking distance) (nothing fancy you understand, this is a bit of a food-desert as far as restaurant guides are concerned, unless you're self-sufficient): The Blisland Inn and the Old Inn at St Breward - both good in their own way: the Blisland better for friendly service and proper beer - it's not often you see a bar like this any more - low old beams full of old beer mats and glasses, where the locals still have their own designated pewter beer jugs (and the sign behind the bar advertises snuff available at £2) - whereas the Old Inn is a bit more commercialised and situated very high above sea level with marvellous views of the surrounding area and specialises in proper pub grub with a good value carvery on offer on Sundays. Maybe we were slightly biased towards the Old Inn, as we reached it after a long, hot and sun-burnt 25 mile bike-ride (via Bodmin) along the last bit of the Camel Trial that we needed to cover from a previous trip. It was a real effort to climb - in 'top-top' gear (I admit to having to get off and walk a few yards) up the final big hill to the top of St Breward - but well-worth it. The views were amazing! And everyone we met said hello on the way - it was a bit strange at first - but that's the way of these Cornish people. We were glad that the local shop was open too.
Maybe we shouldn't have stopped at Bodmin for quite so long - but J had to see the Lewis sadly lose the F1 at the Weavers Inn . (We were glad to see it's now got new mangement since our last visit and has had a re-furb). Bored, I escaped for a while to have a walk around and visited the Thomas a Becket chapel at nearby St Petroc's church where the gargoyles mark the ancient water spring that once serviced the whole of Bodmin until quite recently. I had a chance there to say a prayer for my poor guilt-ridden Catholic soul and also to have a nice conversation with a local old lady who was busy collecting blackberries from the graveyard hedgerows. She was very enthusiastic in telling me how she had felt so guilty about taking the blackberries to make into useful and delicious jams and pies, so much so, that last week she had taken two made-up jam-jars round to the Old Rectory nextdoor to give to the vicar. Predictably, he had thanked her for her trouble and assured her that she should help herself to as many berries as necessary (and apparently hastily took the jams, mumbling something about the forthcoming Harvest Festival). By the time I had returned to the Weavers the skies had turned cloudy, Lewis had finished 5th, and it was time to set off on the long journey home to South Penquite via Tressaret and the old quarry.

We found some lovely places to buy good quality local food along the way. The best was St Kew Farm shop at St Maybyn, which stocks the famous Blue Mango bakery products - the best organic bread in the UK (OK, maybe I've said that before, but the hot food here is fantastic). The fresh veg selection is also amazing and I didn't find it difficult to quickly spend £30 before our return home on everything from runner beans to fresh coffee (and the chilli chocolate was very tempting too).
The only disappointing aspect of the trip was the fishing. Coarse fisherman probably would be quite happy here, but J's fly fishing was spoilt by the lack of maintenance of the beats and the hot weather. Fish were few and far between and even the ones we saw were tiddlers. I've emailed Angling 2000 with some feeback as we had to pay them to fish these beats in advance. Luckily, I'd brought my sketch-pad and pencils to while-away the many hours in the sunshine while J struggled with trying (unsuccessful) different flies...but later he did manage some success when his kite got into the air a few times over the campsite (much to wonderment of the other campers)...
What I like about this place is everything is very understated...the footpaths and villages are barely signposted and even the excellent nearby East Rose cottage (fishing lakes) have no real clue as their true purpose. The moor ponies at the side of the road (and even the occasional cow) add to the atmosphere to make this place a really desolate but mysterious place. Very peaceful and relaxing. Next time we will try the nearby Temple Fishery which apparently (we found out too late) is the best place to catch yourself a decent brown trout...Although 'next time' now will probably be in the Springtime I guess.......

It’s the final countdown now until the beginning of another term.

Can’t believe the Summer has nearly disappeared already! Now it’s down to the unending paperwork of sorting lesson plans for next year….We did have a magnificent time in Crete though – it’s gotta be the best Greek island surely?!! More like the Greek I knew from 20 years ago (Hydra) when I first visited (seems more like a lifetime ago). We stayed in a little place called the Alykes in Elounda and ate fresh fish every day from the little boats which moored in the harbour. There’s not many places I’ve visited that I would go as far as calling ‘magical’ – but Elounda’s definitely one of them. Our apartment was about 50 steps away from the ‘Blue Flagged’ sea (which really was as clean and blue as you would ever imagine a sea could be). The people were wonderful, the food cheap, the weather between 33-38 every day with a nice cool breeze in the evening….too good to be true? Well maybe the return flight could’ve been better – but hey, after suffering the absolute hell of flying into and out of Naples last year – anything else pales into insignificance by comparison.

We had a very, very lazy time. But there was one very important decision for each of us to make every day. Mine was: ‘Mmmmm, what colour bikini should I wear today?’ and J’s was ‘Which restaurant shall we eat at tonight?’ (!!) In fact the only time we dragged ourselves away from the beach was to visit the touristy island of Spinalonga – it's just off the coast of nearby Plaka. It used to be a leper colony for Greece right up until the 1950’s. A lot of the older buildings were sadly demolished in the 70’s – but some remain and it’s a bit spooky walking round the small narrow streets that used to be the marketplace for the poor(ly) residents. Reminded me of Pompeii a bit (not to mention the heat). Plaka itself (back on the mainland) is an excellent ‘designery-type’ place (very ‘us’) with only a handful of small shops and excellent fish restaurants. Probably a nice quiet place to stay compared to Elounda (although we were the other side of the town, so well away from all the bar and road noise, thankfully). We saw lots of beautiful sailing ships moored-up around the beach (I’m very jealous, Jason) and maybe next year we’ll be a bit more adventurous and get about the islands a bit more…

Must just report on one incident that made us both laugh our heads off at one of the restaurants: it was another lazy lunch time (yes, probably about 4pmish). On the next table was a group of older-generation ‘Hell’s Angels’ – about 5 couples. Overweight, tattoos, string vests…you get the picture. The first thing I heard one of the guys say was ‘Oooooh, I’m really missing me dogs’ at which the others tried to sympathise and say they would be home again before they knew it. Anyway, they ordered, and unusually for this place (maybe the waitress wanted them gone) the food turned up quite quickly (when I say quickly, I mean Greek style – that is, within the hour)! Plates clattered, and more wine sent for (while J and I picked at another delicious Greek salad). Next thing we hear from the next table is ‘Wow, that was delicious!’ to which the others asked 'what was it?' The answer was ‘a veal’. Silence. ‘What is ‘a veal’ anyway?’ someone asks...Silence (apart from the stifled laughter at our table obviously). Suggestions abound: maybe it’s a vegetable…. or an animal. Dunno. Helpfully, someone at last offers: ‘I think it’s a type of cow, innit’. We were having too much fun to explain. We did laugh. Well, OK, maybe you had to be there….

Best restaurant in Elounda? Must be the Ferryman on the quayside – although the rest are cheaper and almost as good. No horrible cheap plastic tablecloths and patio chairs to be found here! Consistently, proper, clean table linen. Best bar? Alliogos’s place in the square – we watched the rugby there and the family were always welcoming - along with the smallest dog in the world - Leo ('the Lion')! Best shop? Wish I could remember its name – owned by Nickolas at the top of the town who imports all his stuff from Bali and mainland Greece. Proper stuff – not tourist tat.

I read lots of excellent books the best of which included: Ian McEwans ‘Atonement’ (lucky as I’ve just discovered it's soon to be released as a film). Nicci Gerrard’s ‘Things we knew were true’(desperately realistic) and Torday’s ‘Salmon Fishing in the Yemen’ (hilarious)…
piccies to follow...
Off to pack the bikes and fishing gear for the weekend’s camping now! Let’s hope the weather stays nice for us….:)

Oh dear - over a month has passed since my last post. And I've visited lots of places from Egypt's Sharm El Sheikh (wonderful weather, great people, superb food - shame about the location).......

to the rural village of Wedmore (Somerset) (home to an annual beer festival) - where we stayed at the absolutely dreadful George Inn. Little did we know that it was a pub from hell, with ancient, dirty rooms, smelly loud resident dogs (with accompanying flies) and hopeless (if not well-meaning) staff. The only saving grace was the cold cider which was.....green ('nuff said).

As if that wasn't enough, the Sexey's Arms (the reason for our visit) turned out not to be in the actual village of Wedmore (as the guide said) but in the next village, Blackford about 2 miles away! Luckily the rain let up for long enough for us to walk there. Unluckily, we discovered to our horror that the pub is now under new ownership: the resident French chef and landlord had left. In his place were people who didn't know what they were doing at all (e.g. when we asked for another bottle of red it was served in our ice-bucket with a "there you go" passing comment)!! and served ham egg and chips as if it was some kind of speciality!! terrible service, horrible atmosphere (we were surrounded by Native American headgear - tat) and awful food. Michelin have already been sent an appropriate email!!

However - we did manage to find an excellent food shop in Cheddar called Lillypool Cheese and Cider. They stock that marvellous Colston Bassett stilton that we discovered on our Winteringham experience, and even have a camp-site near-by if you overdo the scrumpy tasting! Excellent!

The good news is I'm published (again)!!! In the Post-16 Educator.

Now, on with the final assignment...soon it will all be over for another academic year...