Category Archives: Uncategorized

209. Day 13: Lucky for us…

I was honestly unsure what to expect from Germany.  Having grown up in the Sixties, my image of Germans came from war films, prisoner of war stories and comedy stereotypes.  As an adult, intellectually I learnt the difference between contemporary Germany and the Nazi party but until I saw it for myself, I’d not taken on board the incredible journey the German people have made.
This trip – and Nuremberg in particular – have been a real education.

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The cottage on the left is where we are staying as guests of the lovely Fabien: a young man who works as a property developer.  The building and the yellow house you can see to the right are more than five hundred years old.  Inside, he’s done a smashing job on restoring a mad jumble of beams and levels.

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All the other houses in the street are post-war.

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On the night of 2nd of January 1945, over ninety per cent of Nuremberg was destroyed in bombing.  All of the churches, the town-hall, more than two thousand preserved medieval houses as well as the residential area surrounding the centre were hit.

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The restaurant where we ate last night had photos of how it looked before and then immediately after the bombing.  Practically nowhere was intact.

This afternoon we went on a guided tour around the city and were able to see what a superb job the people of Nuremberg have done in its restoration.  They really have recreated a beautiful place from the rubble and are justly proud of their home.

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Yet again we were extremely lucky with our guide.  Anya was knowledgeable and enthusiastic.  She took us right through the history of the city from when it was part of Charlemagne’s  Holy Roman Empire to becoming a Protestant Centre after Martin Luther.  Luther himself visited the city twice and stayed in this car-park; only in those days it was a monastery.

Car park on right.

Car park on right.

We learnt about the little bays which became a fashionable adornment to houses.  Apparently, the city leaders wanted these forbidden on the grounds that a plain facade was more in keeping with the Protestant ideal.  The householders responded by saying that these spaces were simply to give them more room to focus on prayer.  Oh, that’s OK then,     said the council.  Go ahead.

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These became known as Ladies Windows as ladies liked to sit there and watch what was going on outside.  In between praying, of course.

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Albrecht Dürer spent much of his life in Nuremburg, so there’s a statue of him, and a museum about him, and a house (above) which belonged to him and an airport named after him, and this statue which is quite recent but was inspired by one of his wood-prints.

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Anya talked about the impact that the Nazi period had on the town.  There is an archive and visitors’ centre documenting the history of that time; as in Heidleberg, we were aware that there is a determination to acknowledge what happened and learn from it.

The stones from the Nazi parade ground have been reclaimed to restore the floor of this old peoples' home.

The stones from the Nazi parade ground have been reclaimed to restore the floor of this old peoples’ home.

There were many places left in ruins after 1945, of course.  But I’d never really appreciated how the German people after the War and then – for some – the Soviet occupation, had not just to reconstruct their buildings but also to completely rebuild their society from the ground up.  What a task!

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We’ve loved our time here: the places we have visited all seem clean and cared-for; all the Germans we have met have been helpful and friendly.  Their transport system works like a dream: the mix of modern trams and bikes must be a major reason why the cities are so clean and pleasant.  It’s been a brilliant country to visit and I’ve learnt so much.  Tomorrow, we head for France but we’re both keen to come back to Germany next time we go travelling.

Now, we’re going to back into the city for an evening stroll before packing up for the morning.

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208. Day 12: A night at the Opera…

 

Concert tickets bought on a whim – cheapest available – from a street vendor dressed in C18th garb (think Amadeus) – are never going to be the best seats in the house. Before setting off in our glad rags, however, I do check online to discover with some relief that the opera house does indeed exist, that we have paid the going price and, moreover, the concert is almost a sell- out. Continue reading →

207. Day 11: Take your partners please…

… for a quick waltz through today’s highlights.

  • A visit to the Albertina Gallery to see their ‘From Monet to Picasso’ exhibition.
  • ‘City highlights walk’ with our trusty Rick Steves audio guide.
  • Purchase of tickets for concert tonight of Mozart and Strauss
  • Packing up ready for tomorrow’s departure

and (drum roll)

  • Figuring out how the dryer works in laundry down the road so we now have clean and dry socks.

Now need to get scrubbed up for tonight.  Meanwhile, a taster from this morning:

Albertina Gallery

 

206. Day 10: A Viennese Whirl…

We’ve come to an agreement, this apartment and I.  I’m going to be grateful to it for providing a comfortable bed, reasonably priced, reasonably near the centre of Vienna. In its turn, the apartment will try hard to not resemble the set of a black and white cold war thriller starting Alan Bates and Richard Burton.

Continue reading →

203. Day 7: Show me the way to go home…


We’d promised ourselves some exploring in the Yorkshire Dales and, to that end, had picked up from the tourist centre a promising looking leaflet for a circular walk. As directed, we’d gone through the churchyard, and over a stile, and left at a gate. The next instruction read “turn right at the tethered goats.” Continue reading →

197. I am on a lonely road and I am travelling….

I’ve admitted before that I’m not an adventurous cove.

Exhibit 1 – domicile.  Ten minutes walk from childhood home; five minutes from Aged P’s; two streets from previous house.

Exhibit 2 – employment. Teacher for twenty five years, twenty one of those in same school and, had PD not intervened, would probably be there still.

Exhibit 3 – holidays. Adverse to flying – conventional in extreme. Never been outside Europe, unless you count Yorkshire.

So this blog is being written at the start of what is, for me anyway, something of an adventure.  I’m sitting in the dark on a balcony outside an apartment in Lille. ActorLaddie and I are inter-railing round Europe for nearly three weeks. Tomorrow we’re going to take the train to Cologne, then head off South to become RhineMaidens.

Tapping a blog out on mobile + added interest of tremor = bitesized, I’m afraid. So three things that have struck me about Lille:

1. Many scary looking police officers, particularly around the station, carrying bloody enormous machine guns.

2. The Bourse has become a market for second hand books, art, music and is utterly beautiful.img_20160913_162054144

3. They still have a C&A’s, bringing back memories of my aunt taking me to the one in Clapham Junction to buy me a bikini for my twelfth birthday, which I insisted on trying on over my vest. Ah, those swinging Sixties.

And, in case you were worried, with the help of TunnelBear making my mobile think it’s still in Britain. I can still listen to the Archers. So that’s all good.

 

 

 

 

 

193. Rumble thy bellyful…

Your Honour, I can certainly attest that there was cake.  Much much cake.

What’s that? Attest?  Yes, good word isn’t it?  Truth is, since coming home early from camp on Wednesday, on account of a vicious bout of tonsillitis, I’ve been basically living in St Mary Mead or thereabouts, binge-watching Miss Marple.  There are few things more soothing than Joan Hickson: head slightly tilting, hands still knitting, blue eyes kindly twinkling as she explains whodunnit.  And, of course, there are people attesting to things left, right and centre.  Attesting is the new black.

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191. The Secret Agent

Are you sure we can’t be overheard?

I shouldn’t really be telling you this: don’t breathe a word – not even if Tom Hiddleston tempts you to swap confidences with promises of a ride on his motorbike.  I will deny all knowledge, if challenged.  I’m taking lessons from Boris on denial and will do so at bumbling length and in Latin.

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188. Should I stay or should I go?

“I kept this for you,” says Mrs Jones and hands me a leaflet.

Mrs J it was who greeted news of my diagnosis by telling me that she knew several people with Parkinson’s “and they went on some lovely trips.”  A rosy prospect, as you can imagine.

I look at the leaflet.  ‘Fit for life,’ it’s called, and is illustrated with a photo of elderly people stretching and smiling.  I read the back and laugh.

“What?” says Mrs J.

“‘Produced by Age UK’,” I read.  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

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187. Float like a butterfly…

“So, what does it mean ‘trending on Twitter’?”

“Right,” I say.  “Touch the ‘Search’ icon… now, give it a second to refresh –  and, look, there’s a list of the main things that people are tweeting about at the moment: at least, the main hashtags being used.”

We look at the list, ActorLaddie and I.  Some of the entries mean nothing to me but in at number five, pop pickers, is a real blast from the past.  AL touches it and we follow the link to the following tweet:

“Just saw Postman Pat trending on Twitter and worried that 2016 had claimed another celebrity. #Phew #PostmanPat.”

Phew indeed.  Simply the start of a new series; Pat being still alive, well and battling extreme weather conditions in Greendale.

Continue reading →