CHRISTMAS 2000

A departure here since, foolishly, we didn't take a camera on this trip. So, instead of pictures, a short story ...

We spent nine days in the UK for Christmas 2000. A very pleasant night in Bruges for Mo's birthday on December 22nd broke the inbound journey into more manageable chunks and put us in the holiday mood. The next day we drove though Belgium and France to the Channel Tunnel with the sun shining brightly in a clear, wintry blue sky. Half an hour later we came out at Folkestone to dull, grey skies and thick mist. Welcome to England!

We spend the first five days driving between family in London, Northampton and Southport before continuing up to the Lake District for some quality time alone in a good beer and food guides pub/B&B. It snowed the night before we drove up to the Lakes but the roads had cleared by the time we hit them so none of the problems the news was apparently reporting. Temperatures down to -8 guaranteed that the snow stayed but the sun came out to lift the scene for a day of driving around the Lakes. You know those Christmas cards that show beautiful sunlit but snowy rolling English landscapes with every tree branch crusted in white? I had always thought they were a romanticised, idealistic view, with lots of artistic licence thrown in. But this was exactly like that. Quite stunning. And no camera to capture the majesty of it - doh!

For the real ale aficionados among you, the Black Sheep Special was especially fine while the Jennings Cumberland was disappointing. Mo, with her usual regard for local culture and custom, stuck to bottles of Belgian Duvel. She even tried paying for it with some of the Belgian Francs we have to carry among the four currencies needed on these trips. The bar staff didn't get the joke. On the food front, a special mention must go to the 1lb, 12 inch Cumberland sausage (ooh, missus). With horseradish mash and onion gravy it was delicious but, with just three inches to go, even I had to admit defeat. It weighed heavy on my mind and stomach that night and, as the actress might have said to the bishop, it will be a while before I can again face putting my lips round a sausage that big!

A night out with ex-colleagues in London again broke the return journey into manageable chunks and provided a pleasant diversion. We arrived back on New Year's Eve in time to celebrate the arrival of 2001 having covered 2001 kilometres (no, really) in a total of 28 hours of driving. We had filled the car with 178 litres of petrol, crossed six national borders, eaten like horses, drunk like fish and slept in six different beds.

After all that we were happy to spend New Year's Eve staying in alone with a few bottles of wine and a DVD.

New Year's Eve in the Netherlands (or what the Dutch call Old Year's Eve - is the glass half full or half empty?) is celebrated with fireworks, unremarkable for their size but astonishing for their profusion and ubiquity. As we hung out of an upstairs window, a shower of fireworks poured into the sky at every degree of the compass. And a full 25 minutes later they were still going - a great start to the New Year.

 


Credits

This trip would not have been possible without the help of many good friends and family. There are too many to thank everyone individually but special mentions go to:

  • Ian for VERY late nights
  • Andy for warm hospitality, fine cigars and driving when he didn't really want to
  • Sarah for organising the unorganisable
  • The Watermill Inn for great beer and food
  • The weather for perfect Christmas snow and sun (even if a little late)

 


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