Wonderful Wonderful Copenhagen – 22 April 2011

The unusual occurrence of a fortnight of sunny weather, had resulted in the UK experiencing extremely high levels of air pollution, so it was great to be leaving for Copenhagen early this morning and as we flew out of Stansted, the brown haze extending as far as it was possible to see, was most unappealing. Thus it was a real pleasure to land in Copenhagen in beautiful sunshine, 1 hour 20 minutes later.

This was part two of our 'Baltic Cruise' and we hoped it would be less eventful than part one in Tallinn, where Christine slipped on ice and broke her arm on the first night. We were fairly sure that on this trip the only ice would be in our drinks.

Copenhagen has more than it's fair share of rain, so it was an real treat to enjoy the warm/hot sunshine, and all the sights were stunning. Spring comes later here, and daffodils are at their best, as were the many blossom trees in city parks. We spent our first day on a walking tour of the city centre, after checking into our centrally located hotel and finally, after 10 years and 42 countries setting foot in a country beginning with D.

As is common these days, much of the centre of the city is pedestrainised, and a pleasure to walk around. It's a pity London can't adopt this in more areas. The main shopping street, with about as many food outlets as other shops, leads to the famous sight of the Nyhavn Canal, lined with lovely old buildings, including the house lived in by Hans Christian Anderson. This canal is a wonderful spot to enjoy the crowds, but the food offered was less than appealing, so despite leaving home at 3:30am, we moved on, hoping for something better later.

After passing the palace with guards outside and the Marble Church, we finally came to a waterfront area, which is delightful, and has a brilliant cafe. We both enjoyed delicious salads, with wonderful light yet healthy local rye bread, and would definitely recommend the local cider with elderflower – delicious on a hot day, over ice.

The return route was through the gardens of the Rosenborg Slot – the royal palace built by Christian IV. This has a real Hans Christian Anderson fairy-tale air about it.

Bluebells 2011 – 17 April 2011

With the M1 still closed, we drove south to Kent, and enjoyed the sunshine in the best British tradition – in the garden of a country home. Hole Park Gardens are a lovely tranquil oasis. You could be visiting in any era. In fact the classic Rolls Royce parked out front, looked totally at home.

The reason for visiting today, was their spectacular bluebell woods. These were picture perfect, but were almost incidental to the real gardens, with flowers and 'miles' of formal yew hedges.

After lunch in their Stables Restaurant, we took a meandering scenic tour of Kent and on into Sussex, enjoying the warm sunshine. We finished our tour with afternoon tea at Michelin Abbey. Another seemingly tranquil spot, which has had stressful periods in it's history. In the 15th century. Henry VIII's troups demolished the Abbey church, leaving the Cloisters, these were made into a country house, with the addition of a Tudor wing. Then children were evacuated here during WWII, until it was decided to move them to Wales during 1940, I imagine it was too close to the south coast, and the threat of invasion.

Capital Ring - 16 April 2011

It was sporting madness in London this weekend, with a FA semi-finals at Wembley Stadium both Saturday and Sunday, as well as the London Marathon on Sunday. To make matters worse for drivers, the M1 was closed all weekend on the approach into London, so it was a good weekend to go south.

On Saturday we walked another stage in the London Capital Ring walking loop. This time from Wimbledon to Richmond. When one visits parts of London on their own, there is no concept of where they all intersect. We were surprised to find that Wimbledon Common ended directly across the road from where Richmond Park began.

Lunch at the Wimbledon Windmill cafe fortified us for the walk. The main reason for doing this particular walk today, was the route went close to the Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park. This garden is stunning late April, as it is mainly azaleas planted around various water features. There were still some late flowering varieties to come into full bloom, but most of them were looking wonderful.

Richmond town was a great place to relax at the end of the walk, in one of the many pubs and cafes that line the bank of the Thames.

Here comes the sun - 9,10 April 2011

With the mercury rising eight degrees above normal, and the hard-top removed from the car for summer, it was time for another mini-vacation out of London.

The whole of England was forecast to have a sunny weekend, so the only criteria for where to go, was where we could get a special deal on accommodation. The result was Essex. The clue in the hotel promotional material, was 5 minutes from Stansted airport. It was interesting to be at the receiving end of the noise from the many European holidays we have enjoyed, departing from Stansted!

But as we didn't notice the intrusion after watching an after dinner movie of the new London show 'Legally Blond' (must see the show now – the movie was hilarious), and the morning flights didn't seem to start until about 7am, it was not too bad. But next time we fly out of Stansted, we'll have to look down and try and spot the lovely spot we stayed in, an Elizabethan Manor house and picturesque 15th century church next door.

On Saturday we explored Essex in a circular drive from Ingatestone, going as far as the coast at Maldon. The RHS garden at Hyde Hall was just off the route, so called in to enjoy their spring flowers. They were opening an exhibition of African sculptures, with African dancers giving a spirited performance. The sculptures were stunning; all carved from various types of stone.

There were many lovely towns on the route, and after our favourite town of Maldon (which we have visited before), our second favourite would have to be the delightful sleepy hollow of Terling.

After a great nights sleep and breakfast in the delightful Tudor hall in our hotel, we set off for Grantchester, just outside Cambridge. Last time we visited, the queue at the famous Orchard tearoom, was so long, we were didn't bother to stop for tea. Today, we only made one stop on the way in Saffron Waldon – a wonderful old town, where we walked the town trail – so were in good time to secure the last table, and beat rush hour.

The lovely light scones were so huge, they constituted a meal in themselves. The orchard is relaxing, and people arrive in droves by foot, car, bicycle or boat – carrying their oars into the grounds. The tearoom's history pamphlet claim that 'more famous people have taken tea than anywhere else in the world', we may have to believe them, as we seldom see famous people when out and about, but a well-known TV face went through the orchard when we were there.

We devised our own route home, and hoped it would prove scenic. It did, and the best town off all was Barrington. Like the Orchard, time seemed to have bypassed it too.

There was time for one last stop on the way home, as we practically passed the gates of Knebworth House, we popped in the see how their gardens were responding to spring. The answer was, “not”; parts were looking good, but the daffodils were mostly over, and apart from some great tulips, the gardens won't really come alive until summer.

Daffodil Weekend Part II - 2-3 April 2011

The British Mother's Day (locally called Mothering Sunday) seems to be organised for an excellent time of year: spring has just arrived, the blossoms and daffodils are out, and it really seems like a good time of year to have a celebration.

We turned Mother's Day into Mother's Weekend, and had a great weekend away, primarily enjoying daffodils in different locations.

Our destination for Saturday night was a country house hotel near Maidstone (which seemed appropriate as Christine's grandfather went from Maidstone to NZ). On the way here we took a pleasant diversion to pay Wisley Gardens our second visit, since joining the Royal Horticultural Society. There were a lot more daffodils and blossom trees out, compared with our first visit, two weeks ago. We thought the variety, quality and quantity of daffodils was the best we have ever seen. Their large orchard of fruit trees were just starting to come out in blossom.

From here we travelled to the National Trust property, Stoneacre, a wonderfully restored medieval house, just near our hotel in Larkfield.

Stoneacre was also surrounded by daffodils, all at their best. The house dates back to 1480, and is a stunning example of Tudor England, both inside and out. I was imagining how lovely it would be to be the tenant who currently lives there, until I was reminded of the outrageous cost of heating it in the winter.

Dinner at the hotel on Saturday night, was excellent, and we couldn't resist the full English breakfast Sunday morning, justifying it because our plan for the morning was an eight mile walk, starting from Cobham. Since visiting the Cobham Estate (now a school) in July last year, we planned to come back when it was opened in the daffodil season.

We had seen photos of the 'house' surrounded by daffodils, but these did not do justice to the spectacle of acres and acres of daffodils, all at their best, around Cobham. We had been impressed with the daffodils at Wisley, but the sheer abundance of daffodils here was just breath-taking. We had to once again treat ourselves to a great cream tea, scones fresh from the school kitchen. Even though we had been encouraged to pick some blooms to take with us, it still felt very wrong to do so even though our small bunch would not have diminished the millions upon millions of blooms on show.

The township of Cobham is not large, but it seems able to support three pubs. One of these, 'The Leather Bottle', is picturesque both inside and out, and has its own claim to a famous past. Charles Dickens came here when he lived nearby at Gads Hill, to regale the locals with readings from his bocks. He featured this pub in Pickwick Papers. It's well-worth dropping in for a meal or a drink, but on Mothering Sunday, it was probably just as well it was later in the afternoon, as I doubt if we would have found a spare table any earlier.

Brittany spares us a great weekend– 26-27 March 2011

After years of Brittany Ferries' email deals hitting our inbox, we finally succumbed to a special offer on a return trip Poole to Cherbourg. It is a service that they have revived for the summer and were obviously attempting to drum up some business; and, to that end, it worked as we left London after work on Friday and boarded the Barfleur at 23:15 for the overnight crossing.

We slept reasonably well on the reclining chairs and were ready to roll when we berthed at Cherbourg at 0730. The empty French roads and motorways that are such a contrast to England whisked us quickly to our destination of Dinan in Brittany, which our travel guide assured us was the jewel of the province.

As we were heading for a B&B we had read about, the SatNav fortuitously took us into Dinan via the attractive old port where the town was founded. A narrow cobble steep street up from the “port” on the River Rance to the Chambres d'Hotes Le Logis du Jerzual where we secured our accommodation before setting out to follow a walking trail around the old town at the top of the hill. The settlement moved up from the riverside in the 14th century, to enable better defences to be constructed and which now provide wonderful views as you walk along the town walls.

The area is famous for galettes (buck wheat brown crepes) and crepes and taking advice from the guide book we stopped in at Creperie Ahna to sample their scallop and mushroom galettes washed down with the local cider in a pottery cup. Simply wonderful!

Having finished our tour of the extremely picturesque pedestrianised centre of the old town we made our way back down the hill to the river and set of upstream for Lehon, a short 30 minute stroll away, Before we set out we built up our blood sugar levels with another local treat, a warmed Kaugn Amann au Pomme, an absolute must for anyone not on a diet visiting this area. Lebon has a ruined castle at the top of the hill which affords wonderful vistas over the old town and abbey below.

After returning to Dinan we settled for an early dinner of galettes and flambed crepes before retiring at an extremely unsociable hour. Clearly, we had not slept quite as well as we thought on the trip across. Breakfast on Sunday morning was a real treat with fresh crusty baguettes and warm feather-light croissants.

Suitable fortified we set off to explore the Breton coastline, heading first for Cap Frehel. We had spotted a post-card in Dinan with a picture of Fort La Latte on the peninsular so headed there, only to find that it did not open until 14:00. Not wanting to waste 2 hours sitting in the car-park decided to drive along the coastline and check out Breton fishing villages.

It would probably have been a good idea and a scenic trip if it wasn't for the sea-fog rolling in, so we abandoned that scheme and headed back toward Cherbourg via Dinard – which didn't really impress so we skirted around the back of St Malo and headed for Cancale where after a short stop at the headland we finally found an attractive sea-front and stopped for an afternoon (very expensive) coffee.

We were now 2.5 hours from the ferry at Cherbourg and we had 3 hours before check-in so it was time to head for home, taking the motor-way as we sped past the vista of Mont St Michel in the distance and then taking a slightly different route from our outbound trip which gave us a great view of the cathedral in Coutances lit up in the sunlight.

Fortunately there were no holdups en-route and we were in the ferry queue in good time. This was probably just as well as once we arrived at French customs we sat and waited and waited and waited while car after car went through on the other queue. I have no idea what all the travellers behind us in the queue must have been thinking and finally I got out and asked the officer if there was a problem. “Non, just waiting for a stamp, monsieur” was the reply. We had arrived at a customs post that clearly did not have a stamp with which to stamp our passports; the customs equivalent of a pub with no beer!

Eventually the official stamp arrived from somewhere and we were allowed through. Would it really have “spoiled some vast eternal plan” (as the Fiddler famously asked) if we had been allowed out of France without a stamp?