Norway 2022/23 – 9, Turnabouts and changes

Tags

Arctic Circle, Bodø, Harstad, Hurtigruten, Hurtigruten museum, MS Trollfjord, Risøyrenna, Vesterålen

On Friday 30th December, three busfuls of passengers got off at 08.00 at Harstad to take a drive through the lovely Vesterålen islands, and to meet up again with MS Trollfjord two stops further on, at Sortland at 12.30. At that time, I was due to get off there for a bus ride to Stokmarknes in order to have a decent amount of time in the Hurtigruten Museum before reboarding the boat there at 15.00. I had a late breakfast as I didn’t know that I’d get any lunch, and took away with me the means to make a cheese sandwich and an apple.

The day before we had been told we would, hopefully, pass along the Risøyrenna, the 4.8 kilometre Risøy Channel.

It had been dredged and opened in 1922 to allow the Hurtigruten ships through, giving them access to its eponymous stop, and other places on the Lofoten Islands. It was narrow, and part of a beautiful passage. The channel was 7 metres deep, our boat having a draught of 5.5.

At 10.10 we were invited up to deck 9 to observe our passage through.

When I arrived:

I missed most of the opening English introduction, but did catch that we were hovering to see whether it was going to be safe to go through, given the very strong winds. Heinz then embarked on a long spiel in German.

After a minute or so I saw and felt that the boat was making an about-turn of 180 degrees. Heinz broke into English to explain that the captain had decided that the very strong winds meant that, especially with so little difference between the boat’s draught and the depth of the channel, it would not be safe to proceed. We would go straight to Svolvær, arriving at 12.55, via Harstad, missing out Risøyrenna, Sortland, and Stokmarknes. And this also meant we would not be seeing the entrance to the beautiful Trollfjord, after which the ship was named. But here’s an account (subject to permission) I’ve just found by, apparently, a North American, of their passage through the channel in 2014 at a different time of year.

A screen map showed us to be on our way back to Harstad.

We had to go there to pick up the turned-back passengers who had left for the Vesterålen excursions, and to deposit those ‘ordinary’ passengers who were due to leave the ship at one of the three ports now being missed. They would be bussed to their destinations. Later in the afternoon it was announced we would not be calling at Svolvær, but would go straight to Bodø, missing out Stamsund as well, arriving at 22.00.

All these changes meant that the trip to the Hurtigruten museum on which I was booked would not happen, nor for others, from Svolvær, three hours of horse-riding, nor another fishing village visit, nor an evening trek.

Back at Harstad, it was time for a twilight tour around the promenade deck, 6, before I returned to my cabin and had my picnic lunch. When going round deck 6, I always started on the starboard side and worked anticlockwise.

It would appear that Harstad is flourishing economically.

The English-language daily briefing was bought forward 45 minutes, to 14.15.

The team had clearly hastily remade the ‘slide’ to amend the time of arrival, normally 02.30 the following day.

We would be crossing back over the Arctic Circle tomorrow.

Hege sought to reassure those of us who had been on the northwards journey that there would be no ice down the backs the following day, instead we would be invited to take a dose of …

That’s Heinz grinning at the anticipated ‘pleasure’.

A short presentation about life on the ship followed. It’s a good job there was no space for questions – I would have had far too many.

A film taking us around the lower decks was fascinating.

I can’t remember why I went up to deck 8, but for the Nth time I saw progress on the two jigsaws. One had been completed. I saw two people on the very final morning desperately trying to get the last 50 or so pieces in position before disembarkation.

At 16.30 an additional talk was programmed, the history of Hurtigruten, a sort-of replacement for the visit to the museum. It has been interesting to learn that ‘hurtigruten’ was sort-of lower case, an idea, an integral and essential part of Norwegian culture, less the name of a company, more a description of the journey. It means ‘express route’. It has been exploited by many companies over the years, but at its heart is Richard With’s initiative. The Hurtigruten Group finally came together in 2006. (Additional information from Wikipedia, inter alia.)

The afternoon was scattered with exchanges of emails with my French friend, Christine, I knew she would be following the ship’s progress on an interactive map, MS Trollfjord being ‘TF’, which, at the time of writing, is at the northernmost tip of Norway, on her second full trip since the one being described here. At the least Christine would be puzzled when she saw it way off the appointed route, so I kept her up to date with the various tergervisations. (There was also a mystery of a missing ship which apparently was going to be waiting for us a Bodø, but wasn’t and disappeared from the map, but that was never solved.)

Some time in the evening, it was announced that because of the extremely strong winds, the ship was now travelling more slowly, and we would not arrive at Bodø until 23.00. That was still 3.5 hours earlier than the official schedule. I have to say, other than feeling the gales up on deck 9 in the morning, I was very little aware of the winds. Perhaps the occasional need to steady oneself when walking around the ship, but that was all.

Next day would be New Year’s Eve.

Norway 2022/23 – 8, Hammerfest

Tags

Amundsen, Finnmark, Hammerfest, Honningsvåg, Hurtigruten, Longyearbyen, MS Trollfjord, Museum of Reconstruction of Finnmark and Northern Troms, Robert Scott, Sami, South Pole expedition, Struve, Struve Geodetic Arc, Svalbard, Vardø, WWII

For some people, Day 8 started at 01.20. They had left the boat at Mehamn and rejoined at at Kjøllefjord at 03.25, having travelled some of the distance between the two by snow-scooter. I was not among them. The first announcement most of us heard was to explain a delay – we had taken on 130 tons of fish during the night at one of the stops! (Some reckoned that they could see the boat listing, but given the overall tonnage of the boat, I couldn’t – and didn’t – see that it made any difference.)

We were still at the very ‘top’ of Norway. This was taken just before 11.00.

The only lengthy stop that day was at Hammerfest, around 11.15. This claims to be the northernmost town – or was it city? – in the world. So does Honningsvåg. It seems that both can be true since one is technically a city and the other a town. This I found out when, cussedly, I said privately to ‘Onchel’ (pronounced ‘Onkle’) Heinz that I had visited the town of Longyearbyen on Svalbard, way, way to the north of mainland Norway. Ah, but that, being very small, was neither a town nor a city. OK.

The options here were: – to take a very short walk from the boat,

in order to see this;

or to take a bus to see it, then visit the town and its surroundings, including the Museum of Reconstruction of Finnmark and the Northern Troms regions;

or to go on a mountain hike.

Or of course to stay on the boat, which the majority did. I had booked on the second.

The monument was to mark the Struve Geodetic Arc, which started at Hammerfest and ended at the Black Sea. This was a chain of triangulations carried out between 1816 and 1855, which helped to establish the exact size and shape of the planet.

We were taken to a high viewpoint of the harbour, passing a much enlarged former Sami dwelling.

As we were taken back to the town centre, I grabbed a few photos from the bus.

Our whistle-stop tour of the museum provided a very natural and just as sobering sequel to the visit to the bomb shelter in Kirkenes the day before. It picked up from the scorched earth policy of the retreating Germans in 1944, and covered the plight of refugees in their own country, and subsequent reconstruction of their homes and other buildings. Much of it was text and most of the rest was old photos. With little time to read and study I just hastily grabbed images to read later. Here are some.

Simulation of a cave dwelling

‘Life as a refugee’

‘Life in the fallow period’

Mock-up of a brand new home for returning refugees, reminding me of my childhood

A brand new home for a Sami family

And we were rushed on, back to the boat.

I reflected on the words of the Norwegian boatowner over breakfast a couple of days earlier, who had said that Norwegians remembered the war. And I also noted the different approaches of our local guides: the passion of that of the previous day in Kirkenes, for whom the period had been lived experience, compared with the matter-of-factness of this day’s guide, half his age, for whom all this was history. (That Norwegian referendum on whether to join what became the EU had been back in 1972, with 53.5% against membership and 46.5% in favour. They had another, I have just read, in 1994. On an 88.6% turnout, 52% were against, 48% for – no, I’ve not got my referendum results muddled. The Wikipedia article suggests that it’s fishing which for many Norwegians is a great obstacle to EU membership.)

Not UFOs but reflections from inside the coach

At 15.45 we had a talk on:

with its painful reminder that the British expedition under Scott had been ill-equipped and very under-experienced compared with the Norwegian Amundsen. Indeed it’s amazing just how much Scott achieved in the circumstances.

Later in the afternoon was the English-language briefing for the next day, but how the next day panned out is a completely different story.

We would be pulling in to Tromsø at 23.45 that evening , for a nearly two-hour stay. A concert in the ‘Arctic Cathedral’ I had walked to on the way ‘up’ had originally been scheduled, to which I had much looked forward. But there was to be no concert there that night, instead another being scheduled at a theatre/cultural centre. A little bird indicated to me that the music would not be up to much. I would have coped with this just to see the inside of the church at midnight, but I decided against in the circumstances. I was tucked up in bed and fast asleep as those who went left and came back. Feedback the next day was that my choice had been a good one.

Norway 2022/23 – 7, Kirkenes

Tags

Andersgrotta, bomb shelter, Finnmark, Hurtigruten, King crab, Kirkenes, MS Trollfjord, Murmansk, Norway-Russia border, SS Irma, Syrian refugees, taiga, Vardø

At 09.00 I was normally having breakfast. But on Day 7, along with many others, I had to be ready to disembark at that time. In the next 15 minutes, six excursions were to be underway, everyone sorted into their different buses on the quay, and another bus would be taking those passengers leaving the ship permanently to the airport. In addition to the excursion I was to do, people were variously: visiting a snow hotel, going dog-sledding, having a ‘King Crab Adventure’, hiking with the expedition team, and riding snow scooters.

The trip I was doing was a historical/political one, taking in a WWII bomb shelter, the Russian border, and a beautiful view.

Kirkenes is further east than both St Petersburg and Istanbul. It is the nearest town to the Russian border. The role of Kirkenes in WWII, second most bombed town in Europe after Valletta, is described here, as the Germans, who had occupied Kirkenes almost unopposed in June 1940, tried to take Russian Murmansk, 200 kilometres away. (They didn’t get further than halfway there.) The bombing was by the Soviet Union, resisting the German advance. The Russians were greeted with open arms as they liberated Kirkenes on 25th October 1944, and, as our guide kept emphasising, relations have been most cordial with the local Russians ever since, across the border which had been fully open until very recently. Recently, that is since Putin invaded Ukraine. Now the inhabitants of the town were very, very afraid.

Our visit was to the Andersgrotta bomb shelter in the centre of the town. Our guide, born in 1940, while not recalling much of the war but growing up in its aftermath, was passionate about his town’s history.

After showing us a short film – we sat on ranked benches with blankets he provided from a chest – in English with German subtitles, he spoke for some 10 minutes in English, followed by the same length of time in German, about the town’s experiences during and after the war. He felt that the Norwegian government had ignored the needs of north Norway – Finnmark – for reconstruction, and said that only in the 1980s did the town receive a royal visit and apology for neglect. He emphasised several times the cordial relations between the townspeople and the Russian, and indeed the many other nationalities living there, including an influx of Syrian refugees who had entered the country via the Russian border in 2015. (Imagine the desperation.)

He said that books about Norway in the war ignored the experience of the north of the country. He himself had sought to make up for that by writing a short book, translated into three languages. I regret not buying it. I have now read the whole of the Wikipedia entry on the German occupation of Norway, from which this is an extract, ‘By the end of the war, German occupation had reduced Norway’s GDP by 45% – more than any other occupied country.^[7] In addition to this came the physical and patrimonial ravages of the war itself. In Finnmark, these were considerably important, as large areas were destroyed as a result of the scorched earth policy that the Germans had pursued during their retreat. Moreover, many towns and settlements were damaged or destroyed by bombing and fighting.’

It was good to be outside again.

We now drove for some 15/20 minutes from Kirkenes to the Russian border. We were entering a different kind of vegetation, the taiga forest. I took these photos through the bus’s window. It’s interesting how the human eye accustoms itself to different light conditions, as it really didn’t seem this dark.

We got out of the bus, and were told we could go anywhere – except beyond the gateposts (though I noticed one or two did, just, with no ill consequences).

This sled appeared from I-don’t-know-where, and unfortunately I felt obliged to accept, when offered, a very short ride on it. Not short enough for me – I felt most insecure. And I’d have preferred anyway to walk on that lovely crunchy snow. The ride was to a solitary shop, which was as unattractive as most gift shops are.

The previous passenger appeared to enjoy it…

By the shop was tethered this husky, and a jar of treats, which our guide dipped into – for the dog that is.

The main road signs in the area were in Cyrillic letters as well as Roman.

We were driven back towards Kirkenes, and arrived at a viewpoint over the town.

My camera zoomed, MS Trollfjord takes centre stage again.

Today’s English language briefing, mentioning excursions for the next three days, was at 14.30. Telling us again about the walk to the Vauban-style fortress at Vardø was a bit a question of left hand and right hand. The timing would already have been tight, but this scoot had already been cancelled by the rather late departure of the boat from Kirkenes. This was again due to the non-arrival on time of some passengers, but in no way was it their fault this time. Two planes bringing passengers has been late arriving at Kirkenes Airport. The boat had waited for one, but could not wait for the second, ‘so those passengers have not joined us yet’. That was the last we heard about them – presumably they were bussed to a later port.

At Hammerfest it would be possible to see this monument to the Struve Geodesic Arc, about which more in the next post.

The trip to the Hurtigruten Museum would happen on Day 9. This slide is of SS (DS in Norwegian) Irma, a Hurtigruten steamship on the coastal route, and controversially torpedoed in 1944, between Bergen and Trondheim. It received a memorial in 2002, seemingly another very belated acknowledgment by the Norwegian government of wartime suffering.

Leaving Vardø at 17.05, from my cabin window. We’ve caught up.

Norway 2022/23 – 1, Bergen to Ålesund

Tags

Alesund, Art nouveau, Art Nouveau centre, Bergen, Coastal Express, engine-turned, Hurtigruten, MS Trollfjord, Norway

This voyage had been in my sights for at least 15 years, the Hurtigruten ‘Original Coastal Express‘ cruise. And what better time to do it than in the winter festive season, when the chance of seeing the Northern Lights was at its peak, and in a year nearing maximum flares in the solar cycle? 12 days on board the MS Trollfjord, one of the larger ships in the company’s fleet, with 297 cabins. So not too big and not too many passengers!

This is a simplified version of a map of the voyage, not showing all 34 stops in each direction but clearly serving as a reminder that Norway goes right over the ‘top’ of Scandinavia and has a border with Russia. (This will become of interest halfway through the voyage.)

My day’s journey (which started by my rising at 4.30 a.m.) was considerably eased by my being taken to Bristol Airport by my walking friend, Zoe, at whose house, ten minutes from the airport, I was able to leave my car. I arrived at the Hurtigruten terminal, Bergen, at 17.30 local time (= GMT + 1 hour). After a shipboard safety briefing and general welcome on shore I was in my cabin around 18.30.

My home from home for 11 nights, and very comfortable I was too. (If I had nothing else to do, I had podcasts, BBC iPlayer downloads, knitting, reading and even access, live, to BBC Radio 4 to entertain me.)

Obligatory photo of Bergen harbour from cabin window, through rain plus saltwater-streaked glass

After a buffet dinner there was a welcome and information briefing in English at 21.00, Norwegian and German speakers having been briefed at sessions earlier. Every day, briefings about what we could expect in the next 24 hours or so were given in German and English (about 2/3 of the passengers were German-speaking). When numbers on board, 15 minimum for each, justified it, there were also sessions in in Norwegian and French. (This working service being for passengers, cars, and goods for delivery at any of the 34 stops along the Norwegian coast, as well as for tourists, people could be on board for a few hours, a few days, or for the full coastline in one direction only, as well as those of us doing the full 11 + two half-days round trip. The language order for on-board announcements was always Norwegian, English, German, French.)

The ship had departed, imperceptibly, at 20.30.

We met the people in charge of us and of the ship. The captain, first left, was a woman – hooray! The chef de cuisine was given special applause, unsurprisingly.

We were also introduced, by means of their photos, to those who would look after our excursions and entertainment on board. I am pleased to say that ‘entertainment’ did not mean shows and suchlike, but information, talks, celebrating the arrival of 2023, and a little fun as we we crossed the Arctic Circle twice.

I had booked all my excursions in advance, but these briefing sessions were also used to advertise remaining places on them. I was a little concerned that the one I had booked for the following day, a visit to the Sunnmore open air museum, was not mentioned this evening. I found that it had been cancelled as there had been only two reservations for it, so I booked instead on to a walking tour of Ålesund. Other options were a longer excursion, including lunch (this was to be the longest stay of the whole voyage) on ‘Taste and traditions in a typical Norwegian fjord’, a visit to a lighthouse, or a trip to an aquarium.

But before we reached Ålesund, we would stop, for just 10 or 15 minutes each time, at three further ports, during the night. I had been concerned that these overnight stops might disturb sleep with clanking and other noises, but not at all. The only noise in my cabin was the gentle sound of ventilation and heating. I did wake up just a handful of times at night during the whole voyage, due to a little juddering and revving. I think it was the bow/stern thrusters as the ship was expertly moved sideways away from the quays. Whatever the cause, I was soon asleep again.

From my window at 09.20 on Day 2, 23rd December, just before arrival at Ålesund

It had stopped raining by the time we docked, and all excursions were to start at 09.45. Disembarked, we had a first chance to take a real look at the boat we had joined in the dark the evening before. There was the goods/car entrance…

… and the passenger entrance. My deck, no. 4, was the only one to give its guests a window. Cabins on all other decks, even the most expensive, had portholes.

No cabins on Deck 5, and Deck 6 was the only one you could walk all around.

I was the only one in the walking excursion not to speak German, and I’m afraid the guide increasingly forgot to repeat his spiel in English. I tired of reminding him, but I got the gist of our visit, even if not of each stop. The whole town had burned to the ground in 1904. The guide said it was because some drunken sailors had been (mis)using oil lamps. Other sources said that no-one had any real idea about what had caused the fire. The place was rebuilt in three years (!), in the art nouveau style then current. The whole town is considered to be Norway’s’ open air museum of art nouveau.

The sun does rise at this time of year at this latitude in Norway, but with hills and mountains all round, it may not reach some parts!

The former custom house

We were invited to sit on this and similar seating. It was warm! The pipes are filled with hot water in the winter season.

We visited a building which until recently had been a pharmacist’s house and business. It is now the Art Nouveau Centre. While all the others went into a room to experience an account of the fire and the town’s rebuilding in German, I went directly into the exhibition. I was blown over by the beauty of some of the exhibits, particularly the engine-turned enamel work. I could have stayed much longer but was given just 15 minutes until my turn in the English-language version of the experience (while the others would view the exhibits). I had great difficulty selecting which photos to include here.

The experience, in a darkened room, was series of photos and moving images of the devastating – though only one life was lost – fire, its consequences, and the reconstruction story.

I was astonished to find that the others were already waiting outside for me – had they been hastened through the exhibition? We continued our walk through the town, noting various art nouveau features.

At this point we were taken into an art shop. I thought it was to encourage us to buy the lovely prints on show there. But in due course I understood that we were being invited to choose, as a free gift, one each from a large selection on offer. I like mine a lot – and will have to get it framed.

We moved on.

It was lunchtime when I got back to the ship, via an ATM. I had completely forgotten to look for one at Bergen airport.

Cézanne exhibition, Tate Modern

Tags

Blackfriars Bridge, Cézanne, Golden Hinde, HMS Belfast, Mudlark, Queen's Walk, Southwark Cathedral, St Paul's Cathedral, Tate Modern, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, Turbine Hall, Winchester Palace

In complete contrast to my visit to the Museum of Brands the previous day, the main purpose of my short visit to London last week was to visit the Cézanne exhibition. Mary and I went on the Overground to Blackfriars station, from where I took this picture, looking down the Thames to Tower Bridge.

Zooming in to our right, I saw some mudlarking (for definition if necessary see later) swans, humans and pigeons. No not really mudlarking; Mary tells me that the swans are fed regularly at this spot.

Arriving exactly at 10.00, we entered the Turbine Hall with the gathered crowd,

and made our way to the café for the obligatory refreshment, from where I zoomed in on the two towers of St Paul’s Cathedral.

I love an audioguide, and the bonus this time was that it was free. Opening the Cézanne exhibition (if you see what I mean) was the man himself.

Paul Cézanne, (1939-1906) early self-portrait

Given his proclamation about Paris and an apple (see heading), it was hardly surprising to find them everywhere, though the selection here does not reflect the extent of their proliferation.

The Basket of Apples, c 1893

And indeed it was not apples everywhere.

The Murder, c 1870

The Battle of Love, 1879-80

Auvers, Panoramic View, 1873-75

The Conversation, 1870-71

Madame Cézanne in a Yellow Chair, 1889-90

Portrait of the Artist’s Son, 1881-2, considered to be unfinished. I rather like it like that. A clear resemblance between him and his mother

The Bay of Marseille, seen from l’Estaque

Still Life with Plaster Cupid, 1894-5

Man in a Blue Smock, (recently identified as a farm worker called Pere Alexandre, but I think it looks like Mark Rylance), 1896-7

Mont Sainte-Victoire, 1902-6

Bathers both male and female. I didn’t get the dates.

Still Life with Apples and Peaches, 1905

Seated Man, 1905-6

Mont Sainte-Victoire, seen from Les Lauves, c. 1904

Two of his last works, described as ‘ominous compositions with skulls’ by the curator

Returning to the Turbine Hall, I was struck by the serendipitous artistry of this view.

It was not yet time for lunch, so we went along the South Bank for a while, hoping the forecast rain would keep away. While I had walked along the other bank many times, and much of this, I had never in my entire life seen the sights along this particular stretch before, to my own and Mary’s surprise, though I do recall singing a concert in Southwark Cathedral, half a century ago.

Looking back to Blackfriars station, from which I had taken the first photo. The swans are still there, though the tide has mounted.

Virtually all that remains of the Great Hall of (the Bishops of) Winchester Palace, ruins rediscovered in the 19th century. The Shard behind.

Full-scale replica of The Golden Hinde, the first English ship to sail round the world.

The Shard and Southwark Cathedral

We found this attractive pub, The Mudlark, right by the Cathedral, to have a bite of lunch in. It was very noisy and crowded inside, so we opted to eat outdoors.

Here’s the definition of ‘to mudlark’.

We sat first here,

then here, seeking the least windy spot.

(Perhaps my decision to drink Guinness was influenced by the museum exhibit the day before.)

We walked on, in the odd spot of rain.

“The Queen’s Walk is a promenade located on the southern bank of the River Thames in London, England, between Lambeth Bridge and Tower Bridge. The creation of pedestrian access along the south bank of the Thames was seen as an integral part of the creation of the Jubilee Walkway to mark the Silver Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II in 1977. However, the last section was not established until the completion of construction of London Bridge City c.1990. In 1996, the Walk was recognised as a foundation for establishing the Thames Path national trail through London.” Wikipedia.

It was a pity some of the buildings opposite (I wasted no pictures on them) were so hideous. Looking at you, Cheese Grater.

The Tower of London, HMS Belfast, and Tower Bridge.

We would have gone right up to Tower Bridge, but underfoot were some beautiful slates. Not so beautiful to walk on when wet. So we turned back, and in Hay’s Wharf sought the coffee we’d not had with our lunch, In the event it was accompanied by some delicious lemon drizzle cake.

It was time for me to be making for my train home. In order to get the Circle Line round to Paddington – and en route to pick up my overnight bag from Tate Modern – we walked back to Blackfriars Bridge, just yards beyond the station, where this caught my eye.

Needless to say, my train was delayed, this time by 25 minutes because of points trouble. The day before it had been damaged overhead electricity lines. But it had been a most enjoyable mini-break. Thanks to all concerned.

Nostalgia and shopping lists

Tags

1975 referendum, Anastasia Romanov, Brands Museum, Brownie camera, Fairy liquid, Gales honey, Guinness, Harold Macmillan, Harpic, Johnnie Walker, Juke Box Jury, Lighthouse Memorial Garden, Lockdown, Museum of Brands, Persil, Ritz biscuits, Rowntrees Fruit Gums, Six-Five Special, Stergene, Teletubbies, Tommy Steele, Zwarte Piet

Yesterday’s blog about my visit to the Museum of Brands ended at the late 1940s. There was much more to come, though I took few pictures towards the end of the Time Tunnel. Nostalgia was giving way to distaste at consumerism!

The 1950s. A symbolic grocer’s shop of the time. How I recall those endless queues, as my mother and I waited to be served, while tins were fetched, goods were weighed out and advice given. No supermarkets yet, but they were coming.

Anastasia: was the woman genuine who was claiming to be the escaped youngest daughter of Russian Tsar, so a survivor of the Romanov assassination, carried out by the Bolsheviks in 1918? Conclusively proved in 2007 that no member of the family escaped.

Ah, that ‘contemporary’ style!

More than once towards the end of the 50s my friends and I were allowed to ‘go up’ to London to be in the audience at the BBC Riverside Studios as ‘Six-Five Special’ went out live on Saturdays, at the time specified, and to ‘Juke Box Jury’. I remember being disappointed at how short Adam Faith (‘What do you want if…’) was as we crowded around afterwards to get autographs.

But Tommy Steele (‘Singing the Blues’) was my real idol. (By the time The Beatles came along I had lost interest in pop music, but meanwhile had had a bit of a pash on Cliff Richard.)

‘Don’t forget the fruit gums, Mum!’

My grandmother had the Brownie on the left, my parents the one on the right.

The 1960s.

I think I tried all of these hairstyles, bar perhaps bottom left.

My mother’s culinary salvation (sorry Mum!). Quick dried peas, Vesta instant dried meals, and Birds Instant whip. And yes, she saved Green Shield stamps.

The 1970s.

A coffee set the height of sophistication

1975. Sigh…

Yup, I had one of these, two-tone beige

1977, Silver Jubilee

1980s.

I had my own first computer, a BBC B, in 1984, and joined the internet in 1997. I was living in France by then, and learned all the jargon in French.

1990s. I didn’t take many photos from now on.

This window was the last, to represent the 2010s.

By now, I was in real need of a sit-down, while there remained much to see. So I was pleased to find myself in the cafe. My intention after refreshment was to explore the Memorial Garden, but it started to rain at that very point, so after a quick photo I immediately turned back inside.

There was one more room, with a roomlet off, yet to explore, covering a variety of themes. Immediately to my right there were three tapestries, each about two metres high, dedicated to London, Rome and Amsterdam. They were true tapestries, that is, the pattern being woven into the fabric, not applied later. Each tapestry had taken about a year to complete, and contained 100 motifs.

Nearby was an apology and indeed an apologia for displaying the exhibit, which contained a reference to ‘Zwarte Piet‘.

This next display gave interesting details on how various products had fared in the light of lockdown and the pandemic.

Some well, some less so.

So far in this room, it seemed that the exhibits had been temporary, but I think the next series of displays were probably permanent ones They showed how packaging of various products had changed over the years, sometimes centuries. I’m disappointed that the images are sometimes not sharp.

I don’t now Frijj and have never used Stergene.

Gales honey, Ritz biscuits and Sunpat peanut butter

The ‘roomlet’ was dedicated to several windows about Johnnie Walker, advertising packaging, promotion, sponsorships, which presumably also sponsors this display, and to those shopping lists which had originally drawn my attention to the Brands Museum.

I am particularly disappointed that the lighting (and perhaps my lack of savvy) has made the photos of these, at times amusing, shopping lists, gathered by one woman and then her friends since 2016. One I especially liked, but which is too blurred to show here, had clearly been written by one person to ensure that the person actually doing the shopping bought the precise things.

There were three displays this size.

List as written by a child!

Four different shops on the left. Very healthy on the right.

Very neat

The week’s meals, and ingredients

Presents and food for Christmas

This shopper knows where to get best value: Waitrose, Tesco and Aldi all to be visited. I hope they didn’t drop the list before visiting the last.

Vodka, Rum, Coke and Beer. Hmm, wonder what they’re planning…

Packing and shopping for a holiday in Norfolk.

I spent a happy evening with Mary, including a meal out with her sister, Susan, who herself did a blog on this museum in 2019.

The third and final post in this series will cover the next day’s visit to the Cézanne exhibition and the area surrounding the Tate Modern.

The Newt in Somerset, Roman Villa – August 2022

Tags

dovecot, gourd, Hadspen House, Karen Roos, Koos Bekker, Roman Villa, The Farmyard, The Newt in Somerset, Villa Ventorum, Wyvern

Time for another visit to The Newt in Somerset. I’d done the Cyder [sic] Tour there a month previous, and had come away with samples. I’d then taken the opportunity to walk down to have a quick look at the exterior of the new Roman Villa Experience (they’re all ‘experiences’ these days, aren’t they?) and back along a vast new area that the enterprise had opened up.

A few days ago, I met Mary off her – delayed – train at Castle Cary station. Arrived at The Newt, we started with the obligatory coffee, and did a bit of setting the world to rights – it’s a big job these days.

This merged seamlessly into lunch.

We were booked in to the Roman Villa for 3p.m., so set off an hour earlier to make our way there via the newly opened area. This involved setting off from the pergola and its many different members of the gourd family.

Going ‘the long way round’ it was about a mile to the Villa, but there was plenty to entertain us on the way, including The Grotto with its Wyvern. The difference between a dragon and a wyvern?

First of all, dragons have four legs, while wyverns have only two. Their front legs are fused to their wings, so they cannot move their wings as easily as dragons. Dragons are also a lot larger than wyverns, and they are believed to be the most powerful creatures in the world. Indeed, it’s very impressive: dragons are very hard to kill and, unless they are killed, they will live for thousands of years.

Still, wyverns, who are considered to be one of the breeds of dragons, can’t be called harmless in any way. Though smaller, easier to attack, and with fewer powers, wyverns can move around a lot faster than dragons, thus making them a big advantage. So, you can never underestimate a wyvern: due to the fact that it’s so swift, it might attack and kill even more efficiently and effectively than a dragon.

When I’d visited in July I had heeded the advice below. I really am too literal-minded – children were actually being encouraged to be disobedient, when they would have had a flaming surprise!

Sadly, by the time of this visit, the Wyvern had no head – some children had been too violent. Safety, electric wires and all that, had led the management to remove it entirely. (It is to be replaced.) But here’s a picture I had taken of it on my previous visit.

We moved on, and were amused by these parallel sheep, all moving towards our right.

Even on my first visit to The Newt, in January 2020, I had seen, in the inaccessible distance and from another angle, what looked like a dovecot. Now we were able not only to approach it but to go inside.

Through the, evidently unglazed, windows, were several views, including this one of the Roman Villa for which we were heading.

Reception and the museum

The Newt’s website said to allow 90 to 120 minutes for the tour of museum and villa. Reception said not to linger too long in the former, as the house alone would need at least an hour to be appreciated. We only had two hours before they would close – and we had ordered Roman food for the end.

We were issued with GPS-guided headphones. In the museum, one pressed a lit ring by an exhibit to learn more. In the house, commentary was stimulated by proximity to any given area. I love audioguides – but there is a huge disadvantage in that you have to rely on your memory a few days later … So there are many lacunas now …

The reconstructed Roman villa is by the site of a real one, burnt down in the 4th century, and first re-discovered in the 19th. Part of it is incorporated into the museum and part of it has been returned to the ground.

More historical information is here and here. The latest archaeological excavations took place after Koos Bekker, the South African billionaire owner of The Newt in Somerset, had acquired the property in 2013.

I was frustrated not to be able to tell which exhibits were originals and which reproductions. (But these surely were all the latter.) Only on examining some of my pictures have I realised – I think – that there were symbols by the captions which would have told me. (Next time – which is soon.)

The villa, seen from the museum

This was the spa/bathing area.

These light fittings are made up of small shards found on the site.

From the games exhibits

Part of the food and cooking exhibit

More time would have allowed a more in depth perusal of the exhibits, (and outside the holidays would have perhaps avoided some rather noisy children, but they were having enormous fun). We moved on to the villa, through vineyard and orchard.

We were welcomed to the ‘Villa Ventorum’ by Diana, in Roman dress. She explained that this room is the furthest most visitors would have been allowed, a place where business transactions would have taken place. From then on our visit was led by the audioguides.

They told us the route to take. There were no stewards, no barriers, no ‘do not touch’s (though our headphone commentary made that polite request) and no – conspicuous anyway – CCTV. And I should mention that the visit is entirely free once entry to The Newt is paid, either by annual membership, or as a guest of a member.

I wondered whether a 21st century person had modelled for this portrait. Indeed, could it be Karen Roos, joint owner of The Newt?

Recognisably the British Isles, though Scotland’s round the bend.

No detail has been missed in the development. The Villa has only been open to the public for a couple of months. My assumption would be therefore that this scorched effect has been added artificially.

We met this cheery fellow in the peaceful rear garden.

A child’s bedroom, and a child’s collection

Parents’ bedroom, and parents’ jewellery

The ‘bibliotheca’ was always in a mess, we were told through our headphones.

The route from Villa Ventorum to London and beyond

Next, to the linked music and entertaining rooms

I cannot imagine how one could eat recumbent, propped up on one arm.

Round to the front of the villa again, and down to the lower courtyard to be served our Roman street food.

This young man told us that the stall was totally authentic, apart from the stainless steel serving pots. We each had what could be described in modern terms as a vegetarian wrap – containing broad beans, asparagus, coriander and a few other lovely things – delicious. I had cider with mine and Mary a sort of cold mulled red wine, the name of which I couldn’t retain.

View from the room in which we ate

We walked back the direct way to the hub of The Newt, still about a kilometre, wondering whether we would see any of the deer.

We certainly did, and they seemed, untypically, to be herded to an area which was inaccessible to the public (possibly because the rutting season is coming up?).

I had never seen so many of them together.

This beech tree fell during Storm Eunice on 18th February this year. As the panel beside it says, it is being left there to become a home for fungi, beetles, and bugs, and, in due course, to become compost. Such shallow roots for such a tall tree!

We had some time before Mary’s train back to London, and, since all refreshment facilities had by now closed, we sat for a short while on a conveniently placed bench, with Newt Lake and the young apple orchards ahead of us, and Hadspen House, the Long Walk and the kitchen garden at 2 o’clock.

In due course we made our way back to the car park.

Just yesterday, when a friend called to offer me some plums from her garden, I was telling her about the Villa. We have arranged to go together in about a month’s time, when I will hope to fill in some of those lacunas, and indeed to observe more.

Footnote: Never – £500, £600, £700 and rising per night! – will I be in a position to take photographs of those parts of The Newt reserved to guests in its hotels, Hadspen House and The Farmyard. But here is a short article by those involved in the interior design, which will show a little of how the Other Half lives!

Cornwall 2022 – 9. A long, open-top bus ride

Tags

Canada goose, copper mine, Land's End Coaster, Little egret, Museum of Global Communications, Mute swan, Newlyn, Porthcurno, Rat Race 2022, samphire, Sennen Cove, shelduck, St IVes, St Just, St Michael's Mount, The Gurnard's Head, The Old Quay House, Tin mine

Saturday 2nd July. When I woke up, my knees reminded me that they had made quite an effort the previous day, perhaps the Frenchman’s Creek walk, or maybe the Minack Theatre steps, most likely a combination of both. So, a late breakfast, some photos,

The swan

The gang (of Canada geese)

Little egret

and a very early lunch in the restaurant of the place I was staying, the Old Quay House. Good old fish and chips. Very early because I had decided to rest my legs today, and after lunch to take a circular bus ride on the hop-on hop-off Land’s End Coaster, an hourly service.

Here’s a tourist map of the far tip of Cornwall that I was given during my 2021 holiday in Penzance.

The Hayle estuary and St Erth, where I got on the bus, are half way down, over on the right. I chose to take the anticlockwise route, which went northwards to St Ives, along the north coast westward towards Geevor, southward to St Just, then continued south, diverting to Sennen Cove, back to the main road, and out to Land’s End and back, then down, and on another detour, to Porthcurno (the home of the Minack Theatre, though the bus necessarily turned back before that), inland to St Buryan, across to Newlyn, then to Penzance, Marazion (St Michael’s Mount), and northeast back to my starting point. The bus ride would take four hours. It takes 15 minutes to get to Penzance from Hayle, where I was staying, by car.

I sat upstairs in the open-air part of the bus. It was very blowy – and for most of the time, especially along the north coast, and as the previous evening, I wished I had more clothing with me. People got on and off at regular intervals. I think I was the only person not using the bus as a means of getting from A to B. And I was able to use my senior’s bus pass.

Photo just for the record. The holiday village was in fact much nearer to where I was staying that to the town of St Ives.

St Ives harbour

Wesleyan chapel turned theatre

The beginning of the blustery conditions, along the north coast. Most people sat in the sheltered front part of the top, or downstairs.

The Gurnard’s Head hotel

Evidence of former mining

The cows won

St Just

A Land’s End Coaster from the other direction. These two passed fairly easily, but there were other encounters which were much more tricky on the narrow Cornish roads (though of course, it’s the vehicles which have got wider). Usually we won by sheer size, but once we had to back up for quite a distance. No doubt the drivers are well used to it.

Sennen Cove

Many people got off at Land’s End, and many got on.

I was not the only one who had been intrigued, as we neared Land’s End, by the banners,’Rat Race’. I took this photo as we passed on the way back up the road. I think it may have been this, the location of the start of a run from Land’s End to John O’Groats, though children were running races on site as we went by.

I had been intrigued also, the evening before on the way to Minack, by this Museum of Global Communications at Porthcurno. Definitely something to visit next time I’m in Cornwall.

Turning back on to the main road from the coastal dead end

Newlyn Harbour

St Michael’s Mount, from Penzance

I took no more photos from then in, Penzance, through Marazion and back to St Erth/Hayle.

Back at my lovely patio for the evening, the tide was well out.

It was samphire, I think, that flourished in the twice-daily washed mud.

The swan with its adopted family of shelduck

One full day in Cornwall left. And no, I didn’t see my friendly gull this day.

Cornwall 2022 – 7. St Ives, Pt 2

Tags

Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden, Black-headed gull, Canada goose, cormorant, Cornish Heavy Cake, curlew, Herring gull, Mute swan, Porth Kidney Sands, Porthmeor Beach, Salubrious Place, shelduck, St IVes, St Ives Museum, Tate St Ives, Teetotal Street, The Old Quay House

Back on Terra Firma, I wandered around, casually making for the St Ives Museum.

This was the only photo I took, the entrance, as photography inside was not allowed. This made me rather grumpy, but I couldn’t help enjoying the really old-fashioned, crammed displays, of all lost life and livings in St Ives and indeed Cornwall. But sorry, no photos.

On my reluctant way back to the seafront, where the hordes were gathered, and this wasn’t even the height of the holiday season,

I couldn’t help noticing these street names.

I picked up two little pots of seafood, and a huge Cornish Heavy cake, which I consumed before leaving the crowds, and then made for the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden. Before you get into the garden itself, there is a small indoors display.

From the garden, you can see Hepworth’s workshop.

I hadn’t really registered too much the ‘Garden’ bit beforehand, but on remarking this to an attendant, I was told that the planting was exactly as Hepworth had planned, as was – mostly – the positioning of the sculptures. Nor had I been too sure that I would like the latter, but I really, really did.

I enjoyed looking at them from different angles: such as this,

and this:

There remained Tate St Ives, but not my stamina. Two exhibitions were enough for one day. But I did want to see the front of the building, so walked round to Porthmeor Beach, which I had seen from the sea in the morning. I also had the idea that it could be a relatively quiet place to have a cup of tea.

From the fourth floor café, which was not as quiet as I had hoped as the floors were polished stone and the staff were clattering dishes, I could admire the view. I realised later that there were quieter areas with seaward views. Never mind, the lemon grass and ginger tea was excellent, from fresh ingredients, not from a tea bag.

The curvy architectural theme is maintained.

Down at street level, I could see that the beach, and even more the sea, was well occupied. There seemed to be a surfing lesson going on.

Time to trudge (uphill mainly) to the railway station for my shuttle back. This time the carriages were crowded. It wasn’t that everyone was staying in St Erth or Hayle, it was that St Erth station car park is officially a park and ride facility for all those coming from near and far for those visiting not only St Ives, but also Penzance.

My scenic ride back picked up not only Porth Kidney Sands at the mouth of the Hayle estuary, but also, as I zoomed the camera, The Old Quay House, and particularly my room, with its private patio.

The Canada goose family and Herring gulls.

Time for a little more bird-watching, or rather -gazing. Most of these were some way away.

Curlew

Cormorant, crow and Herring gulls

Very distant Canada geese, the family not among them

I recognise that look, on my roof! He didn’t hang around this time though.

Curlew taxiing for take-off

The swan with its apparently favoured company, shelduck

And a couple, much nearer, of Black-headed gulls

Minack Theatre tomorrow. What else?

Cornwall 2022 – 5. Tresco Abbey Gardens

Tags

Cornwall, Echium candicans, red squirrel, St Nicholas Priory, The Tresco Children, Tresco, Tresco Abbey Gardens, Valhalla Museum

Wednesday 29th June, part 2. Very shortly after starting to explore the Tresco Abbey Gardens, by which time the threat of rain had lifted, and having had the obligatory and necessary coffee, I was absolutely delighted to see a red squirrel – and then another. I had no idea they were on the Isles of Scilly.

Here are just a few of the over 100 photos I took on my way round the very extensive gardens.

Mixed planting in the kitchen garden

I had now been in the gardens perhaps an hour, totally absorbed in what I was seeing. But at this point I looked up and saw the sea in the distance. I came to, and suddenly remembered where I was. It was a strange feeling, coming back to space and time.

Plenty of seating available

This was almost all that remained of the Benedictine St Nicholas Priory, built probably in the 12th century. It is thought likely that the priory fell into disuse because of pirate pressure and desecration in the late 15th century, rather than being abandoned because of the Reformation half a century later. The locals continued to use the area as a graveyard.

‘The Tresco Children’ by David Wynne, 1990

My peregrination had brought me back near the entrance. Whether these were the same two squirrels, I could not know, but as they played they rushed past me, apparently oblivious of my presence .

In the grounds, part of the Valhalla Museum collection of ships’ figureheads

As I went back to the cafe at the entrance for a something to eat, I couldn’t resist taking another photo of the creature (was it the same?) that had greeted me earlier on.

Also at the entrance there was a small exhibition on the history of the Gardens.

Cornwall voted Leave in 2016

Guess who visited while I was consuming my soup…

Resuming my exploration of the gardens, I was pleased to see these Echium candicans, ‘Pride of Madeira’. I had bought the T-shirt when on that island. The flowerhead is about one-and-a-half times the size of a lupin head and much more dense.

The sun had been out for some time now, and I was sitting contemplating this area (the following three pictures) when it occurred to me that it would be a shame to see nothing more of the island while I was there.

So I made my way to the exit,

then turned back past the heliport, to the nearest beach. The sun had gone in now, and the breeze, from which the gardens shelter their visitors, was quite fierce. I saw no attraction in hanging around there,

so retraced my steps, past the entrance to the gardens this time, making for a round lake I could see on my map, hoping to be able to get close to it.

‘The Tresco Children’ from the outside

Sadly, I could get no closer to the lake than this, despite walking all the way round its extensive perimeter.

In due course, I was back at the heliport, but on the wrong side.

As I said in my previous post, I saw the previous flight come in and take off. Once the barrier was lifted, it was safe for me to cross to reception.

The following day – St Ives.