Yesterday we decided to take a run down to Rockingham and Penguin Island.
Penguin Island is part of the Shoalwater Islands Marine Park and, as the name suggests, is the home to a colony of Fairie Penguins as well as providing nesting sites for several species of gull and Pelicans.
The weather was beautiful and after a short drive and an even shorter ferry boat crossing we spent a very enjoyable couple of hours walking the island. Part of the Penguin Island experience is a short educational session at the Discovery Centre where a few penguins receive treats and are used to explain a little about these delightful creatures. I should point out the penguins in the discovery centre have been rescued and deemed unlikely to survive being returned to the wild.
So here are a few snaps which will I hope convey what a beautiful place this small island is.
Here I am, down in Western Australia. Perth to be exact and today has been our first full day. Yesterday, Sunday, was spent recovering from the journey.
We woke to a beautiful sunny, blue skies, day. We had decided to take a trip to Whiteman Park where we enjoyed a leisurely exploration of Caversham Wildlife Park and lunch in the on site Village Cafe.
Obviously I took photos and have posted a few here your pleasure. They are in no particular order.
So after checking our bags, a process which took only ten minutes, we headed to security. We joined the queue which stretched the whole length of the building, out the exit and on down a ramp and some stairs. We were in this queue for just under an hour which by any estimation is not acceptable. How on earth did these people cope with the influx and the departure of all those spectators and participants for the olympics.
This is Heathrows idea of efficient passenger management. I have just joined a queue, several hundreds of feet away from the security check point for departures. Apparently if you are within one hour of departure there is another gateway !!!
It’s nearly five o’clock. AM that is. And I can’t bloody sleep. And that’s really surprising after having spent over six hours driving to get here.
I guess we should have known better, travelling on a Friday afternoon, crossing half the country at knocking off time and it being a bank holiday weekend. To be honest we never gave it a thought.
We set out just after two, heading west along the M27 then north up th A34. The roads were busy but we made good time until we were near Oxford at which point we stopped. Then we crawled. Stop, start, stop, start.
The satnag had been trying to get us to leave the A34 for a while but we knew better. Doggedly sticking to the route that we have travelled dozens of times before. Around this time the travel totty on the radio began to pile on the gloom. Spouting tales of woe, an “incident” on the M6, problems on the M42, animals rampaging on this road, a car overturned on that. Then there was the M25 with a traffic jam of some 25 to 30 miles. To cap it all there were news items telling of aeronautical mayhem. Jet fighters scrambled to escort a Pakistani Airlines flight, forcing it to land at Stansted while another incident at Heathrow saw a plane return to the ground with smoke and flames belching from one of it’s engines. The passengers and crew taking to the slides to exit the plane.
It was beginning to seem like Armageddon.
So with all the portents against us we opted to take the satnags advice and abandon the A34. We took the exit for Woodstock and were soon zig zagging our way along A and B roads straight to another traffic jam. According to the nag we were on Station Road heading towards Ardley. All I knew was we were ‘ardley moving.
By the way, it is now 05:25 and there appears to be a party cranking up in the next room. The female voice that has been gabbling on incessantly, since before I started this, has now been supplemented by music and whooping. From the other side it seems someone has struck lucky as the intermittent creaking has reached a crescendo and finally stopped.
Where was I, oh yes, slowly creeping up on the M40. So we made it onto a motorway and managed to make some progress until we had to transfer to the M42. This, like the M25, has an active traffic control system with varying speed limits. Needless to say it was in operation, the gantry’s flashing that we could travel at 40 mph. So of course we were stationary.
Once again the satnag was trying to coerce us into leaving the motorway but after our last, recent, voyage into the unknown, we decided to stay put. After all, one traffic jam is as good as another.
And so we stuttered along on our journey. We made it onto the M6 but our speed didn’t increase by much as the volume of traffic was swollen by hundreds of extra vehicles being forced to stay on the motorway as one of the exits had been closed. Once we got onto the M6 toll we really got a move on and were whizzing along at full motorway speed. Whoohoo !!
Well that didn’t last for long, 30 odd miles and then back to the rolling log jams we were getting used to.
Eventually we made it to our destination, despite the delays we were only about an hour and three quarters later than our original eta. Bearing in mind we would normally have had a pee break and perhaps a coffee. On this occasion the only stops we made were not by choice.
Which is why it is all the more surprising that I am awake at this ungodly hour.
The radio has gone off, baggy mouth has stopped talking and Mr Lucky has presumably drifted off into a blissful sleep.
About a year ago I posted about our visit to Blenheim Palace, about our picnic in the grounds and posted a few snapshots from that day. Well we have been back, specifically to view the inside.
So I present for your delectation a few snaps from Saturdays exploration.
Starting us off is the head of Winston Churchill, possibly England’s greatest Prime Minister.
The Great Man
Some of the youngsters out there may not realise that Winston Churchill was the inventor of one of their current favourite favourites, the”onesy”. Of course it wasn’t called that back in the day. I present for you the “SirenSuit”
Churhills “onesy” or SIren Suit
Invented during time of war, designed to be pulled on over your bedclothes and worn when you had to dash to the air raid shelter.
Beautiful Dress
Below is the bedroom in which Churchill was born. Given the grandeur of Blenheim this room seems rather cosy by comparison.
Bedroom where Churchill was bornOrnate ClockFrieze – Just one small selection of manyThis small section is just a sample and this image cannot do justice to the skill and craftsmanship that went into creating BlenheimOrgan Pipes – belonging to the Willis organ, at the north end of the Long Library. It was installed by the 8th Duke in 1891 and is the largest privately owned organ in Europe.A selection of ceremonial robesI’ve forgotten what this is, but it is impressiveA Closer ViewOne of many statues looking down on the Great Hall. Carved, I believe by Grinling GibbonsTapestryTapestryWindows – Great Hall – Blenheim PalaceWindows & Statues – Great Hall – Blenheim Palace
After touring the house we had a spot of lunch on the terrace, overlooking the water gardens.
Lunch on the terrace – Water Gardens at BlenheimWater Gardens – Blenheim PalaceWater Gardens – Blenheim Palace
As luck would have it, our visit to Blenheim coincided with a Mediaeval Tournament which was taking place in the grounds to the South of the palace. We strolled across the lawns, being buffeted by the quite strong winds that had blown up. The tournament was a jovial affair, presided over by King Henry
King Henry VIII – Jousting at Blenheim PalaceSuccess – One ring capturedA little more difficult this time. The ring was tossed into the air, rather than hanging from the pole.Acknowledging the applauseStarting to the gallopHave at you sir !!!The SaluteOn my way !!!MissedA little bit of swordplayA dastardly knave sent packingLap of HonourLap of HonourLap of Honour
After the excitement of the tournament we returned to the palace. New this year is ‘Blenheim Palace: The Untold Story’ an audio-visual trail through the history of Blenheim. It seemed a little disjointed at times but was very interesting although the theatre room left us a bit perplexed, not sure what they were trying to convey.
After a beautiful visit we set off for home but not before stopping at what is becoming a favourite of ours. The White Horse at Ampfield where we had a lovely meal. I would like to make a personal recommendation and that is, should you ever visit The White Horse, choose the Faggots. That is if they are on the menu. They are made by the butchers in the nearby village of Hursley. They are delicious and very filling.
Yesterday we took a trip up to Arundel Castle. A popular destination to while away the hours and to pick up a bit of history. Here are a few photo’s from what was yet another dull and bitingly cold day.
Arundel Castle from the River ArunBattlementsBusy Roofline – Aundel CastleArundel CastleCorridor – Arundel CastleInner Sanctum – Arundel CastleArundel CastleRhea – Arundel CastlePhoto Bomb or Sticky Stamp LickerSteep Slope – Arundel CastleThe Keep – Arundel CastleAnti Tourist Squad – Arundel Castle
Well I did get some more sleep after my earlier awakening due to my coughing fit. Needles to say I was feeling a bit sluggish but that was to be expected after several hours of traveling and not very much sleep.
Quarter Cottage
Anyway, Saturday morning proper arrived and the troops gathered for breakfast teas and coffees. Suitably fortified, we all made our way to Moreton to visit the rellies, my wife’s sister, her daughter and granddaughter. We drank more tea and coffee and generally spent a few hours chin wagging. My daughters took their respective spouses away to show them where they had spent their school years. That is to say they headed out to Bromborough where they lived prior to being rudely scooped up and dragged “down south” to Pompey.
My wife and I stayed on in Moreton for a bit longer, wagging our chins for all they were worth before re-joining the rest for our evening meal. We all met up at The Royal Oak in Bromborough.
The Royal Oak is part of the “Hungry Horse” chain of eateries and, sad to say, this one managed to maintain my low opinion of their restaurants. I can’t put my finger on it but I really don’t like the atmosphere in their pubs. They tend to be noisy, dingy and the food is of dubious standard. If the others had not already settled in and ordered by the time we got there I would have insisted on going elsewhere.
My wife had a “Beef Madras” curry which tasted OK but only just met the conditions of trades descriptions act by containing just three small pieces of meat. How they have the effrontery to charge money when they serve so little is beyond my comprehension. Things didn’t get any better with my meal.
My wife may have had three small pieces of meat in her curry but I would, on the other hand, defy anyone to find any meat in the “Big Cornish Cow Pie” that was delivered for my consumption. This is a large rectangular crusty pie was filled with some sort of slop which I can only describe as thick gravy and vegetables. Admittedly their menu does not actually claim that it contains meat but the image included does seem to show minced meat of some description. Well my pie was hugely disappointing, I wouldn’t have minded finding a bit of horse. I pointed this out to the waitress when she asked if we had enjoyed our meals. Her only comment was that she hadn’t actually tried it but thought the pie contained minced beef. Well not on this occasion.
The tribe upped sticks and headed back to our rented accommodation, stopping en route to pick up supplies. We had a pleasant evening chatting and consuming a few glasses of wine.
Sunday was Mothers Day. Three of our party were surprised with cards and bunches of flowers and two of the lads set to in the kitchen and rustled up a huge breakfast comprising bacon, sausages, poached eggs and toast. No mean feat when you consider that all eight of us sat down and ate together.
Once this was all consumed and the kitchen was returned to its original pristine state we jumped into the cars and headed out to do some touristy stuff. I and four others in one car headed over to Liverpool and the Albert Dock via the Birkenhead Tunnel. It was bitterly cold with a significant windchill as the air blasted up between the buildings from the river. We didn’t take much persuading to visit “The Beatles Story” where it was much, much warmer and out of that biting wind.
The Beatles Story is highly recommended but should you visit be prepared for data overload. You are given a headset which will play commentary on demand as you walk around. This is supplemented by the visual texts, photographs and huge amounts of memorabilia. To this you have to add other atmospheric audio titbits supplied via video screens and of course all of this overlaid by a soundtrack of various Beatles songs throughout. There is a mockup of the Cavern Club to which my wife commented that it was much much darker in the real thing. She having actually visited the club during the “Fab Four” era.
Whilst I would describe the Beatles Story as a great experience I would not extend that description to the awful service provided by Starbucks as you exit the exhibition. You expect to be ripped off when you go through the obligatory souvenir shop. But the Starbucks experience was not good. Drinks were expensive, substandard and the levels in the cups matched the state of the Mersey i.e. the tide was out. Some of us had tea and that was very much a DIY experience…take the teabag out of the mug and when asked about milk the staff just pointed across the room. The tea tasted like canteen tea brewed in an urn. It’s a shame that so much effort has been put into the exhibition but so little put into the refreshments.
The Fureys – Billy and Caitlin
The tickets that we had purchased included access to a 4D show and also to an Elvis Exhibition. Both at the Pierhead. This meant that we had to venture out into the cold but being the brave souls that we are we didn’t flinch as we headed down to the riverside. Any remaining cobwebs were well and truly scoured as we moved along to the Pierhead.
The 4D experience was surreal and made us laugh. The Elvis Exhibition was interesting with quite a bit of cross linkage to the Beatles Story which gave us a bit of continuity.
Museum of Liverpool
By this time the sun had broken through the clouds. It didn’t do much for the temperature outside but the low sun levels did light up the Liver Buildings and some other objects.
The Royal Liver Building complete with Liver Bird. One of the “Three Graces”The Port Of Liverpool Building. One of the “Three Graces”One of many SuperLambananas to be found around the Liverpool Museum building at the PierheadLiving In A Box – Pierhead, LiverpoolMe And My Shadow
After all that VERY fresh air we had worked up quite an appetite. Choosing where to eat on Mothers Day when you haven’t booked anywhere can prove to be a bit of a challenge. We opted to head towards the cottage and see if we could spot something en route. Our route took us close to Thornton Hough where some of us had previously eaten in a very nice hostelry. We diverted to the Seven Stars which, as expected, was heaving. The pub was full and we didn’t hold out much hope. Enquiring behind the bar if they could accomodate a party of five, we were informed that they could have a table ready for us in about twenty minutes. We were duly seated and had a lovely meal. If anyone is ever in the vicinity of Thornton Hough I would highly recommend the Seven Stars. Whether it be to pop in for a pint or stay for a full blown three course meal. The landlord and his staff are very friendly. The food is excellent and the beer is well kept.
Monday and we awoke to a really bright morning. Temperatures just as low as before but so bright. We had elected the day to try and visit the brother-in-law who is in The Walton Centre, Liverpool. So made our way to Moreton to make arrangements and after a spot of lunch we made our way over, rather under, the Mersey and negotiated the biggest hospital complex on the planet. Leastways thats how it seemed to me.
After spending a short time in the hospital we headed back to Moreton where it was decided to try and get all of the family into a single pub/restaurant for the evening meal. Eventually we got ourselves booked in to the Three Stags at Bebington. No mean feat since there were twelve of us. They did us proud and I was amazed that they did the meal (starters and mains) plus drinks for £190. Seems like a really good deal to me. The food was excellent and once again the staff were really friendly and helpful.
Two Food Critics expressing their thoughts on the meal.
This gathering was a double edged affair as we were enjoying socialising with our northern family but this was tinged with the knowledge that we had come to the end of our long weekend and that we had to go back to the cottage to pack and prepare for the journey home on the following morning.
When we got back to the cottage we found a black furry beast on the table and as it looked hungry I gave it a saucer of milk…
A week ago my daughter, her husband and her daughter all arrived from Perth, Western Australia. They are staying for a month and as any visitation from Oz is a significant event it was decided that a visit to the old home grounds and a visit to the other family members still resident in the UK was necessary. So this weekend we are visiting the outlaws on Mersey-side. As there are eight of us making this trek we are staying at “Quarter Cottage” in a place called Puddington on the Wirral Peninsula.
The journey up from Hampshire although uneventful was not particularly pleasant. Mind you, five hours in a car can hardly be described as a pleasant experience at the best of times. In this case it was made worse by the weather conditions. Leaving home just after ten in the morning, most of the journey was shrouded in varying densities of fog, or low-lying cloud, interspersed with rain. The fog varied in colours ranging from dark grey to light grey and visibility from half a mile to just a few feet. The British countryside, which normally adds some interest on this type of journey, was largely invisible.
The eight of us drove up in three vehicles and although not traveling in convoy managed to arrive within minutes of each other despite having separate starting points and times. The cars were unpacked and after a brief debate about who was sleeping where we were suitably ensconced in a our new, temporary, home.
After a cup of tea and some discussion about our respective journeys we set out to a local hostelry for a meal. The venue chosen to benefit from our custom was the “Tudor Rose“, a Brewers Fayre “formula pub” attached to a Premier Inn. This pub provided us with some hot, straight forward grub and, given the size of our party and that we hadn’t booked, they were very helpful and organised a table. Having us seated in just a few minutes. Most of us chose from their Chip Shop buffet and although not haute cuisine it was adequate.
It was then back to the cottage for some sleep ready for a fresh start on Saturday morning.
So why am I typing this at 04:03 on Saturday morning. Because I woke up with a coughing fit two hours ago and had to get up as each time I lay down the coughing started again. So I am posting this as is, hoping to get back to my pit for a couple of hours worth of z’s.
WrAnTz 