While preparing my book, Hangi, Haka and Hobbits: Notes from New Zealand, the second in my Planning to the Nth trilogy, for publication in print, memories are flooding back.
I dragged myself away from Chichester and caught the train to Canterbury. At least, I caught the train to London and then back to Canterbury. Why I thought trains would be waiting to take me exactly where I wanted to go, I have no idea, but I did. Never mind, I saw some lovely scenery on the way.
Not having had time to go anywhere to write about in the last few weeks, I’m returning to my trip to England in September 2016, where I had arrived in Chichester and spent the first morning walking the city walls and beautiful Priory Park. To read that post, click here.
Anyone who’s not interested in cathedrals should click off now as I’m besotted with them and am likely to become a bit boring.
I had decided that after my week in Cornwall I would head back to London via Canterbury. Penzance to Canterbury by train is a seven hour trip so I wanted to break it up somewhere along the way. I chose Chichester, mainly because of its famous theatre.
It was my fault, even after all the trains and buses I’d used in the last fortnight, that I still thought I would get on a train at Penzance and get off, relaxed and rested, at Chichester. Actually it took over six hours and three different trains.
This week, I’m launching the third book in my Planning to the ‘Nth series. Is This the Road to Stratford? describes my trip to England in 2011. Arriving in Manchester, I crossed by train to York, where I picked up a particularly malevolent rental car and, bewildered by indecipherable road signs and massive, terrifying roundabouts, wound my way down to Oxford. From there, having with great relief disposed of the car, I caught the train to London.
The book is now available as an ebook from Amazon. To check it out, click here.
Anyone who’s followed my blog or read my books will know I’m besotted with film locations.
I’ve been waiting for a chance to visit Cornwall ever since the seventies, when I watched the Poldark series, with its ragged cliffs, waves crashing into coves where smugglers plied their trade, windswept moors, tin and copper mines and, let’s face it, its leading man. This was my chance.
On my first trip to the UK in 2011, I hired a car and spent two weeks wending my way, nervously, around narrow roads and laneways designed originally for horses and carts. I decided this time not to put myself through that stress, and so took advantage of a British Rail offer: 8 days of travel within a month for under $500, which I thought, after checking prices for individual trips, sounded good, though the offer is only for we people living outside the country, which seems awfully unfair on the locals.
I’m sitting in front of my computer, asking myself what could be the worst thing to happen to a travel blogger. For me, it’s the loss of photos. And that’s what’s happened.
The temperature was heading for zero (well, 10°), the wind was blasting and it was threatening to rain. But, intrepid traveller that I am, I headed back into the city. It’s years since I’ve been to Captain Cook’s cottage, settled in the gorgeous Fitzroy Gardens, stretching behind the State Parliament buildings.