To Venice

We both had a restless night's sleep, Lindy because she had a neck ache and a slight headache, me because of a sore throat. Woke late (for us), at just after 7 but considering the time difference, it was 6 a.m. in England.

Breakfast was below ground level, in a lovely room that had an arched ceiling (as many rooms in Italy do). We had a choice of bread to toast and various jams and hazelnut spread, crispbread, cheese, ham, cereal, fruit (fresh water melon or tinned mixed), juice, coffee or tea. We were surrounded by a variety of languages, French, Italian, English, German or Dutch, and Chinese. 

After breakfast, we returned to our room to pack and rest before checking out at 11 a.m. Our train doesn't leave until 3:50 so we asked if we could sit in the hotel lounge for an hour. Lovely tiles in patterns on the floor, columns and statues, with very elegant lounge chairs. At midday, we left to walk to the station to find our train for Venice. With a couple of hours to fill, we found a relatively quiet spot to sit and read. I left Lindy with our bags and went for a walk. Bought some water and throat lozenges and saw where we would have to wait for our train departure platform number to be advised.

We found our train departure platform with no problems and our carriage and seats. The train left on time. We left our luggage at the end of the train but saw that many people wheeled theirs along and left it near their seats. Toilets behind us not in service, the one at the other end of the carriage had no paper.

Lindy and I both read our books, me between nose blowing. Cold and throat worse. The train was late into Venice, and we faced a walk along unfamiliar paths in the dark luckily we had taken a screen shot of the route when we had the internet in Rome. Lindy did a good job guiding us to Albergo Casa Peron, with only one slight wrong turn. We finally booked in at almost 9 p.m. and discovered that we were in a double bed. We're told that beds could be separated next day. Dropped our bags in our room, and went next door for dinner (The Dolphin), where I had pizza and a glass of the house red (very nice) and Lindy lasagne.

Our room is on the first floor and looks out over the 'street'. We left the windows and shutters open for fresh air but had to shut them for the noise. Double glazing meant most of the sound was muffled.

Rome

It was a pleasant flight from Gatwick to Rome, although we had a bit of a wait for our luggage. The train from the airport to the city was €14 each and took 35 minutes. We arrived at Roma Termini at around 2 p.m. and walked straight out onto the street our Hotel is situated, Via Giolotti, which runs parallel to the railway. We faced a long walk through some very grotty areas and over cobbled and some potholed walkways. We were pleased when we arrived at the Hotel Tempio di Pallade to see that the area down that end of the street is much nicer.

Check in time is posted as 13:00 hours (1 p.m.) but when we arrived at 2:30, we were told that our room wasn't ready, could we come back in an hour or so? The young man on reception was very apologetic and pleasant, and he took our bags to the luggage room, so after paying the city tax (€4 each) and €3 for the wifi (for 24 hours for one device only) we set out to explore the area around us.

There are a number of small restaurants around our hotel, and we checked out the menus and prices. They all seemed similar, around €10 for a pasta dish.

Just around the corner is what looks like the tram terminus and behind them an old Roman gate and old walls, some ancient, some not quite so old. We decided to cross the road to get closer for photographs without tramlines cutting through them.

In Rome, a green walk sign does not mean that the vehicles can't go ahead, nor does a red light necessarily mean stop. Crossing any road here is to take your life into your hands - pedestrian crossings are often ignored by drivers.

We managed to get a few photographs then called into a small shop for some cold drinks. Before ringing up the sale, the cashier asked if we would be taking away. We said yes. When we got outside, Lindy asked me what was the difference. I told her that if you sit to eat or drink, you will pay extra. We also looked at some postcards at a little booth a bit further on. There was no price marked on the stand. I said that you have to ask - mostly if there is no price they will charge you whatever they feel like at the time.

We got back to our hotel at 3:45 and had just sat down in the lounge when we were told our room was ready. Room 121, I thought he said. We were relieved, although one flight of stairs sounded a lot to two weary travellers. He collected our luggage, and as I went to walk upstairs, he said we could use the lift. We hadn't noticed it! What a relief. We got to room 121, but the key wouldn't work. Lindy asked if I had the right room. We looked at the key. It was 131, just a couple of doors away.

Very small, but firm beds. No tea making facilities but we're not too fussed. Breakfast is included in the cost of the room, just €50 for the two of us.

The rain appeared to be easing around 6:30 so we set out to walk a block to a nearby restaurant, but got caught in a heavy shower and arrived looking a bit bedraggled. It was a nice dinner though. I had fettuccine with meant sauce and Lindy had a Buccatine. With mineral water and the cover charge, it cost €23.00.

Back at the hotel, it was a little cooler, so we shut the window. The road outside had become a bit busier, so an added bonus was the silence.

We both had a restless night's sleep, Lindy because she had a neck ache and a slight headache, me because of a sore throat. We woke late (for us), at just after 7 but considering the time difference; it was 6 a.m. in England.

Breakfast was below ground level, in a lovely room that had an arched ceiling (as many rooms in Italy do). We had a choice of bread to toast and various jams and hazelnut spread, crispbread, cheese, ham, cereal, fruit (fresh water melon or tinned mixed), juice, coffee or tea. We were surrounded by a variety of languages, French, Italian, English, German or Dutch, and Chinese.

After breakfast, we returned to our room to pack and rest before checking out at 11am. Our train doesn't leave until 3:50 so we asked if we could sit in the hotel lounge for an hour. Lovely tiles in patterns on the floor, columns and statues, with very elegant lounge chairs. At midday, we  left to walk to the station to find our train for Venice. With a couple of hours to fill, we found a relatively quiet spot to sit and read. I left Lindy with our bags and went for a walk. Bought some water and throat lozenges and saw where we would have to wait for our train departure platform number to be advised.

Gatwick

What a day! Pouring rain and a low black sky that threatened us when the rain did stop - briefly -  now and again. The traffic was bad in patches on the M25 as we skirted London to the west and drove further south. We had become used to our useless GPS, but it didn't matter, the roads were well signed for Gatwick. However, we did have two problems to overcome. Firstly, when I'd reserved our hire car, I arranged to return it to their Gatwick North Terminal depot, very handy to the hotel we had booked and to the terminal we were leaving from. Unfortunately, since reserving our car, that depot had closed, and we were to return it to the depot at the South terminal. We had no idea of how far apart the two terminals were. Secondly, we had been told that the hotel we'd booked had no car park, only a quick drop off point. We decided to drop the car off first, and then to find our way to the hotel later, figuring that it couldn't be too hard to move from one terminal to the other, even in the rain.

After driving around one large roundabout a couple of times, trying to get into the right lane, we drove into the terminal area, trying to see where we had to go to return the car. The way was not signed very well, and I had to do some quick lane changes, just trusting that others on the road would be steering clear of this crazy driver. After one quick reversing manoeuvre we arrived at the rental return area - still pouring rain - which was a small lot filled with cars. There were signs in each parking bay for all the car rental companies, not in any order as far as we could see. As we drove around (with a few other confused drivers) we passed a small break in a wire fence and saw a small sign - 'Avis and Budget returns here' - beside a narrow break in the parked cars. We had arrived!

The young man signing the car in pointed us towards the area he said we'd find the shuttle to the North Terminal. By the time we got our bags and other gear from the car and reached a covered walkway, we were soaked. We sloshed through the water until we reached a travelling walkway that took us into the terminal. From there, we followed the signs to the North Terminal, travelling on another moving walkway, then on a monorail. At the North Terminal (at last!) we looked for the covered walkway the hotel advertised as the way from the terminal to their hotel. We couldn't find it so had to brave the road and footpath. We reached a door that had a sign, with an arrow pointing the way to the hotel entrance - around the corner. By this time we didn't care what we looked like, we just wanted to be dry. 

When we got to reception, when we asked about the covered walkway, we were shown the way we'd come. It was covered, we were told, once you went out of the hotel and crossed the road! We were an hour early for booking in, but I think they took pity on us because they let us book in immediately. We asked for an iron, so we could iron our crumpled clothes and asked if they had laundry facilities. That's something we've missed, not being able to wash our clothes. It would make a nice business for someone we reckon, putting some sort of laundry near hotels. (Lindy reminded me of the laundry someone in Brisbane set up for the homeless!)

The restaurant in this hotel is by reservation only, so we reserved a table for 6:30. We had some coins to get rid of so decided to splurge out. We had a lovely chicken curry, and then shared a dessert called chocalot. It came in a huge bowl, chocolate and vanilla ice cream, chocolate sprinkles, fudge bits, cream, rolled wafer biscuits and chocolate flakes! Decadent to say the least. We couldn't finish it all. We paid with cash to help get rid of the last of our coins, with £2 left over as a tip for our waitress. Then we staggered off to bed - have to be up early for our flight to Rome - we were told it takes some time to get through security here.

London

I woke before six after a restless night. It was way too hot in our room, even though we had the window open. Unfortunately, it would only open a little way. At least my smalls dried!

Breakfast was fruit, coffee and a chocolate covered biscuit. We planned on having morning tea and then a late lunch in London.

Our taxi arrived in plenty of time, and we were at Peterborough railway station by 8:45, although it cost £9 for a 10-minute road trip! We then had some difficulty working out how trains work here. Apparently, there are a couple of companies; one operates the slow trains and the other the fast. After talking to a station staff member, we went to the counter to buy our tickets, rather than fight with the machines, which couldn't answer our questions, like, what's the difference in prices (cheapest £27.50 to dearest £56), off-peak (leave after 9 a.m., depart London before 4:45 p.m.). We bought our tickets, the cheapest, and then tried to see which platform our train would leave from. Impossible to figure out, so we asked a railway worker. 

Once on the platform (1), we found a warm waiting room. The train was on time - at least we thought it was our train, we can't understand a word the announcer is saying, except for ‘Terminates here’. We seat ourselves and hope that we are in the right carriage - our tickets say standard, so we gather that's cattle class. Doesn't seem like first class.

We arrived at London Kings Cross Station to heavy skies. 

We found the Big Red bus stops and purchased tickets, which were daylight robbery at £30 each (tour of river included) with no seniors' discount. We then discovered that the bus we were on was the black line, which we had to leave at Marble Arch for the blue or red Line.

There was an automated voice giving a run down on places we passed, most of which we couldn't see because of the thick traffic. We began at the top of the bus, but it got too cold and began to rain, so we moved downstairs. The traffic was getting thicker, and it was very slow, so it was 11:30 a.m. before we got to Marble Arch. We asked if the bus was going anywhere near the Imperial War Museum and were assured it was. There was no automated voice on the red bus, but a guide upstairs who spoke about the places we passed. He seemed to be talking specifically to those he could see, not us!

He mentioned the IWM then went onto something else. I asked the driver where we should get off, and he said I should go upstairs and ask the man up there. I did, and he said it was where he'd mentioned the war museum. But you didn't say 'this is the stop for' I said as I went back down. We got off and began to ask people where we had to go to see Churchill's War Rooms. The second man we asked knew, and he told us to walk down 3 blocks, past Westminster and Big Ben on our right, and it would be on our right. He was almost right. There was a long line, of course, and then it began to rain, so we huddled into our coats and waited. We weren't going to give up after the trouble we'd gone to, to get there.

It was only a wait of about 15 minutes, and we were inside, then downstairs to buy our tickets. A concession there at least, £14.40 instead of £18. Very interesting place and we spent a lot of time in there, breaking the tour with lunch - vegetable soup (heavy on the pumpkin and carrot) with a bread roll, our first choice of a baked potato and chilli beans being off the menu. By the time we finished in there, we just had time to hurry down to the river for our river cruise, a half hour trip to Tower Bridge. The roof leaked and we'd just moved seats to escape a drip when a bucket load of water that had built up descended on the seats we'd just vacated. A lucky escape.

When we got to the Tower, our trip ended, and we were getting anxious. Our train ticket back to Peterborough had to be used before 4:45 p.m, and it was 3 o'clock. Considering how long it had taken to get where we were, we doubted we'd get back to Kings Cross in time. We kept following the signs for buses but couldn't see any stops. Eventually saw a lot of people waiting and joined them. 

A big red bus eventually came along, but we were stopped from boarding - different bus company we were told. Every bus that came along was for this company, even though the sign said it was a stop for The Original Big Bus Company. We hadn't realised there was more than one company - I'm sure that wasn't the case 10 years ago. Time was marching on so we decided to head for the underground and take a train to Kings Cross Station. After some consultation with a station staff member, we went to the machine and finally got it to accept our request for tickets to Kings Cross on the circle line. Two adults at £4.80 each to go a total of 5 stops! More daylight robbery.

Once at Kings Cross we had to find our way to the northern line, then find,the boards to see where to catch our train. Found that and saw that the train was leaving at 16:40, just 5 minutes before our deadline. Phew! But no platform number was listed, so we had to wait. While waiting, we bought some coffee, Lindy a 'coo-kee' and me some popcorn. Then to platform 5. I got through the turnstile, okay but Lindy couldn't. Had to get some assistance. Rush to train, found seats, and big sigh!

If I had to see London again, I'd not go on a big red bus tour. Instead, I'd recommend buying an all day underground pass to travel from station to station to see those things you particularly want to see. Most tourist maps indicate which underground stations are near which attraction. This will give you a better feel for the city and get you around to see more of it. As well as being quicker and less stress-free, it would be more cost effective.

South towards London

We woke to heavy fog, and dire weather forecasts so delayed our departure from Dalesgate for an hour or so. Wifi was impossible in our room, so we sat on the stairs to try to send email and post to Facebook. Later, to fill in more time, we enjoyed another English breakfast.

Despite the weather warnings, the fog did begin to clear, so we set off for the next leg of our journey, to an area called Yorks. According to the census material I'd managed to access, the Booth family, those of our Grandmother's era at least, were born in this area, in various places around Parkgate. There were many mines in this area, and our Great Grandfather was listed on the census as a miner. We had one actual address in Parkgate so drove to that street, only to find that number 93 no longer exists. There was a short row of houses at one end, at the other business yards behind high wire fences. But the house the family lived in would have been similar to those that remained, so we took a photo of them and then continued on our way. 

We left the glimpses we'd had of the moors, and the little county lanes and villages behind, and drove south. We were going to Petersborough, which was about as close as we could get to London for a place to stay to suit our budget. I had seen London a few times previously and didn't particularly want to go again, but Lindy had never been and of course wanted to see it.   

Once again, our GPS was unreliable. It would not accept the address 'Norman Cross' so we settled for the coordinates and hoped it would get us close. It did, but it still took a phone call to the Premier Inn to finally find them. Somehow they were in Yakesly, although that wasn't their address. 

We hadn't stopped for lunch so opted for dinner in Thyme, the Inn's restaurant. I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio and was a bit dumbfounded to be asked if I wanted a small, regular or large glass. I said I just want an ordinary sized glass of wine. The waitress said, 'regular then'. What she brought me was a small glass filled to the brim! Delicious meal, although we were discovering that food prices in the UK are much more expensive than in Australia. The chicken Caesar salad I had, along with the wine, cost the equivalent of about $28.

Brontè Country

The drive to Haworth took us through some lovely villages, with homes right on the roadside. The road was very narrow in parts, giving Lindy some heart stopping moments. Lindy was afraid that if someone opened their door and stepped out as we drove by, we'd take them and their door with us!

It's been 8 years since I was last in Haworth and while the village hasn't changed that much, the Bronte museum has grown. Lindy and I went through the old church graveyard first, then into the house, which is full of Bronté memorabilia. We couldn't get into the school house, as I did before because there was a wedding reception going on. We bought some Turkish delight and barley sugar from the Old Sweet Shop, then sat down for a 'cream tea' which is a pot of tea with scones, jam and cream.

After two hours, we were ready to drive to our hotel for the night, the Dalesgate. It was only about 5 miles away but when we were almost there we came across a road that had been closed to traffic, so had to travel miles out of our way to come in from the other direction. The Dalesgate is a lovely place, built of the local stone, which is pale and warm looking. Our rooms are below ground but we didn't have to worry about stairs because our room was level with the car park at the back.

Lindy went to the bathroom but was soon calling for help – again! What is it about the bathrooms here in England? She asked me how I thought the soap dispenser worked. It was Dove Cleanser and we squeezed and pushed and pulled it to no avail. Lindy had already tried all that and all she succeeded in doing was detaching the whole thing from the wall. We finally found that you have to squeeze the container up near the top. Lindy tried, but she needed two hands to squeeze the hard container, which wasn't very successful as she then didn't have a spare hand left to catch the soap! 

Then it was the toilet roll, which was situated a long stretch away on the opposite wall. When one reached over to tear off a few sections, the roll kept unrolling so by the time you had a hand free to stop it half the roll was piled on the floor. 

The shower was a rubber Y piece attached to the faucets, with a hand-held shower head. The rubber piece wasn't very long so we were puzzled about how one would go about having a shower. Lindy insisted that this time, I had to go first and work it out for her. I had to half crouch down with my back to the wall so that the water didn't go everywhere. Despite my care, most of the bathroom - and my dry clothes - got washed along with me.

It soon became obvious to us that the English prefer baths to showers.

We went for a nice long walk to stretch our legs. The countryside is lovely, green rolling hills and quaint stone houses. There wasn't much room on the footpath, and every time a car came along, we had to move to single file. All of the houses had a tiny area in front, for a garden, and some were lovely. It's surprising how many plants, shrubs and trees one can fit in a tiny space, and how much variety there can be here. At home, we'd have to stick to a reliable few, and even those would die off in the heat.

After our huge breakfast, and then afternoon cream tea at Haworth, we didn't feel hungry so opted for a piece of fruit, and biscuit and a cup of tea, before going to bed.

Bootle to Blackpool

On the way to Blackpool, we drove into Bootle, Merseyside (Liverpool), which is where the Jacksons came from. (Jackson was our mother's maiden name.) The street they lived in is no longer there but we got a good sense of the area. It's a very poor area, no different really from when our ancestors lived there, according to my research.

We drove on from there towards Blackpool, on some lovely quiet roads, and through some quaint villages with some doors opening almost onto the street. Our GPS was better behaved (or we are getting used to her) until near the end of our journey when she neglected to tell us that after turning right at one point we would need to be in the far left lane to almost immediately turn left. I indicated and began to move over, only to step hard on the brakes as one idiot came from nowhere at well over the speed limit. He missed us by a whisker.

Driving down into Blackpool was a nightmare, with one-way streets, endless rows of cars, both parked and moving, and crowds of people. I'd been to Blackpool before, but it hadn't been as busy then. We were visiting Blackpool only to see where our Grandmother's family lived until they left for Australia in the mid-1920s.

We had to drive beyond The Albany, on a one-way street, because there were no parking spots free for some distance. We put 50p into the machine, for half an hour, until we found out where the car park was. When we came inside to check in, we were told that because we had booked online, we were at the top. More stairs! When I asked about parking (I'd requested it when booking), I was told that parking couldn't be reserved online, that it has to be done direct. How antiquated is that? However, the receptionist told us, the owner could possibly have a spot for us, but we'd have to wait until he returned. We returned to the car and collected just enough stuff for the night and next day and returned to trudge our way up endless stairs.

I walked downstairs again to see the owner, who agreed to park our car in his private car park, for £5. I gave him the key, then walked back upstairs to collect £5, down again to pay him. He told me that there was to be a light show on 'the front' (which is what they call the area in front of the sea) that evening, so Lindy and I decided to go. We also thought fish and chips was in order for dinner, but before that, we needed to find High Street, granny's family home. We asked at reception if there was a map or any brochures, but all we got was 'no', so we asked if there is a tourist bureau. On the front, was the answer, so off we went. 

The Front was packed with people either standing, sitting on low stone walls, or walking to and fro. There were cars and trams and booths where one could buy all sorts of laser lights and fairground sort of stuff. The ocean was very quiet, not seeming to move at all. It was high tide, and the only 'beach' we saw was mud. There were seagulls everywhere. 

We finally found the Info Centre and were given a map of the city. I had an idea of where High Street was but 10 years is a long time, and there are a lot more high rise buildings now. 

We found the house and rang the bell. We told the young woman who answered the story of the house and showed her the old photos we had. I had hoped she'd invite us in, but we could hear a child in the background, and she seemed anxious to go. She did give us permission to take photos, so we did.

As the family story goes, our great grandmother and great grandfather bought this house to run as a boarding house after great grandfather was injured in a mining accident. After they had purchased it, they found out that it had previously been a house of ill repute. Great Grandma took to emptying a bucket of water from the upper floor onto the single men who rang the doorbell at all hours. They soon got the message.

After taking our photos, we thought we'd find the library so we could use the Internet to find a map that showed the church where they were married. Although we asked for directions to the library, we never did find it, so back to the Albany we went, and up those dreaded stairs once again. On the way, we called into a supermarket and collected a few supplies.

At 7:15 we set off to find dinner. Lindy had fish and chips; I opted for chicken and chips instead. The little fish and chip shop was crowded and noisy, but the food was delicious. When we left the crowds had swelled considerably and down on the front it was wall to wall people, including kids, babies and dogs. The whole street was lit up, and so were a few vehicles. Sideshow alley was in full swing.The Tower was lit up with changing laser lights, and still, the crowds came. At 8:30 the fireworks began. This is apparently an annual event, where teams set up firework displays and are judged each week to find,the best. Tonight it was France. Next week, we were told it would be Canada.

Once the fireworks were finished, we escaped to the relative quiet of our hotel. I say 'relative' because in Blackpool, if it's not a freezing night, most people spend the evening hours on the front steps of their houses and we could hear them talking and laughing well into the night.

I don't know what it is about the English and their bathrooms, but as usual, we had a struggle with the shower. At the Albany, there were no taps. The dial on the box on the wall of the shower stall was at stop, so I moved it around, but still no water. My turn to call for help. We figured out that the red switch on the wall outside the bathroom door was to turn the water on! Success. Wouldn't you think there would be a sign above the switch to indicate what it was for?

We staggered down the Mountainous stairs at 8 a.m. for breakfast, only to have to wait - breakfast is at 8:30 we were told. Who eats breakfast so late? Maybe all those people who stayed up until all hours. (We discovered later that breakfast is earlier on weekdays.) The dining room was below ground level with the kitchen behind it, and we remembered Granny's stories of the family giving up their rooms to boarders and sleeping in the kitchen.

It was worth the wait - a true 'English breakfast' with cereal, fruit, yoghurt, juice, eggs (scrambled or poached), bacon, sausages (various), black pudding, white pudding, hash browns, potato gems, tomato, mushrooms, baked beans, toast and tea or coffee. We ate enough to last us through the most strenuous of days.

After we'd recovered from breakfast, we got permission to check out after ten, leaving our car and bags there while we went to see if we could find the church Granny was married at, if it was still there? It was only a 15-minute walk to the corner of Dickson and Cocker Street, and there it was, still there although a Methodist Church now; it was described as a Wesleyan church on the marriage certificate. We took a few photographs and began to walk back. We passed a post office so stopped in to buy a stamp for my postcard to Aunty Dolly, Granny's youngest daughter. There was a man being served, so we made a queue while the customer and the postal clerk carried on a conversation. We finally got our turn and what a talkative man he was. He said he'd been there for 20 years and had seen the place deteriorate in the last ten. Apparently, it's now an area of high unemployment, ex-cons and thieves. We could quite believe him.

We returned to the Albany to check out and headed off to Haworth, although it took us some time to clear the one-way streets. I can't say we were  sorry to see the back of Blackpool.