The flight down from Edinburgh was smooth, but I had earache during the descent into Heathrow. When we were waiting for our luggage I saw Miss Stein, she was my teacher when I was in P5!

The express train into London Paddington is very fast, it only takes 15 minutes to get right into central London, then we took a taxi to a pub called ‘The Queens Head and Artichoke’, just across the road from our friend Dan’s flat.

Dan was waiting on the pavement, so we went into the pub for lunch, then across the road to Dan’s flat, which is in a basement but is bigger than I thought it would be. After about 30 minutes, me and Grandpa walked across and into Regent’s Park, a really nice place and quite large, with tennis courts and a big lake, also some cafes and places where you can eat. Grandpa showed me a flowering cherry tree, the blossom smelled really sweet. We saw a tame squirrel, he came down the tree and right up to us.

Later, we all went out for a meal at Pizza Express. I had an ordinary pizza and a glass of sprite, it took a long time but it was fun. Later still, Marcia said she would take me for another walk into the park, going a different way, but in fact we walked to Oxford Street and back. On the way we saw some ‘bendy buses’, things that bend in the middle and which are the size of two ordinary buses.

Day Two

Just finished breakfast and now we are going to the Imperial War Museum, then on to the Adelphi Theatre to see ‘Joseph and his TechnicolourDreamcoat’.

Marcia let me borrow her camera and I got some good pictures at the Museum. There was loads of interesting things to see, including a Bofors anti-aircraft gun, exactly like the gun used by my great grandfather during WWII.

My Grandpa could tell me about most of the things there, he was born in 1939 and was a child during the war. We saw what it was like for children who lived then, including information about evacuation and posters from that time.

Upstairs, we old tanks and artillery guns, I loved the whole thing! We went into a section which was all about the ‘Secret War’, it was all about MI6 and the SAS and the secret codes that both sides used. The Germans used a special ‘enigma’ coding machine, they thought their code was unbreakable, but Britain broke the code when we got our hands on an enigma machine from a u-boat.

After lunch, we went in to see the presentation on what happened to the Jews in the concentration camps. The pictures and writing proved that the Germans were cruel to the Jews.

After leaving the Museum, we went to Westminster to see Big Ben and to book our tickets for the London Eye and a cruise on the River Thames. Later, we took a taxi down the river to see HMS Belfast. It was huge, with many rooms and big guns. Grandpa told me that if the Belfast was moored in Largs it could fire shells that would accurately reach Greenock! The rooms on the ship were great, with writing telling you the history and what each room was for. The ship has steel ladders instead of steps, and if you were a sailor then you had no privacy, sleeping in a hammock slung over the tables and sharing the same room with lots of other men. The sailors had to wash their clothes in a bucket, then hang them up to dry wherever they could, nothing was really white, everything was mostly grey. A half-pint of rum was issued each day, very popular!

The Belfast played an important part in WWII, she was involved in shelling the Normandy beaches on D Day and played a big part in sinking the German battleship ‘Scharnhorst’.

After the Belfast we took a taxi across the river to Garfunkels restaurant next to the Adelphi Theatre, I had a cheeseburger and a glass of coke, then we went in to see the show. ‘Joseph and the amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat’ was wonderful, with dancers and singers full of energy and life. The music was great, but I couldn’t see the orchestra, because they were in a pit in front of the stage. The singing was great too, there was one character who was supposed to be Elvis and the actor was perfect for it! I really enjoyed the show, because I’m not used to such amazing props and actors.

Day Three

This was our day for the London Eye. We took a taxi from the flat, arriving ten minutes before we were supposed to, but they let us on without any problem. The weather was good and the views from the pod were amazing,

I took lots of photos of the river, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. After the Eye, we had sometime to spare, so we had an ice cream then walked across to get a better view of the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, then walked back for the trip down the Thames. I enjoyed the trip; a guide told us about the history of the famous buildings that are on both sides of the river.

On the trip, we passed under several bridges and saw the Tower of London, the Parliament buildings and went down as far as London Bridge. On our return, we had a hot dog, then headed off to the Science Museum. The Museum had some really interesting exhibitions, but there were loads of screaming kids and so we didn’t stay at the activity bits for very long. In the bookshop, I bought the second Darren Shan book ‘Demon Thief’.

Day Four

We decided to go to Greenwich, which meant going on the underground and the Docklands Light Railway. When we arrived, we visited the National Maritime Museum, quite interesting and full of old Navy stuff, including a five metre model ship and ots of smaller models. After lunch, we climbed up to the old Royal Observatory. This was great, we could see the Prime Meridian and I could stand with one foot in the Eastern Hemisphere and one foot in the Western Hemisphere!

We saw the different timekeepers that a Mr Harrison has made to try and win a prize of 20,000 pounds (more than 1 million pounds today) that the government had promised to anyone who could make a really accurate timekeeper that would help ships to fix their longtitude. After the Observatory, we went back across the river to Oxford Circus, then asked a cab driver to take us to Hamleys Toy Shop on Regent Street. The driver gave us directions to walk to the shop, but it was so busy that I could hardly keep up with Grandpa! We finally made it to the biggest toy shop in the world! The basement was my favourite part, because it is all about interactive games.

The ground floor seemed to be mainly stuffed toys, another floor was magic tricks, the third floor was girls toys, the fourth floor was for boys. We returned to the flat after Hamleys, then after tea I went for a walk with Marcia went for a walk to Chinatown, then to Tesco where she bought me some Percy Pigs, then on the way back she bought me a MacFlurrey at MacDonalds.

Day Five

Our last day. At 0930 we took the tube train to the Tower of London. This was really good, with gruesome stories and much information about the Royal Families over the ages. There is a medieval Palace with information on ancient Kings, including Edward I and Edward II, the ‘Hammer of the Scots’. We walked along the walls, stopping at several points.

We went into Martin Tower, inside were old crowns without any jewels. After Martin Tower we had lunch in the cafe, mainly because the queue to see the Crown Jewels was HUGE. After lunch, we joined the queue and it took fifty minutes before we entered the vault where the jewels are kept. The jewels are worth seeing, there is a huge diamond and many rubies and sapphires. There was a story in the guidebook about someone who tried to steal the jewels about 400 years ago. When the thief was caught Charles II pardoned him!

We waited in another queue to get into the White Tower. The display was mainly about weapons and armour used by Henry VIII. As Henry got older, he also got fatter and by the time he died he had a 52 inch waist!. There was also an old chapel and displays of different types of armour used by knights. Finally, we waited in yet another queue to get into the Torture Chamber, after a long wait we were disappointed, there were only one or two things on display.

That’s it, my journal about my Big Trip, I hope you enjoyed reading it.

click on maps and photos to enlarge

click on highlighted words for additional information

It was one of those group psychology moments that you read about, where each team member is waiting for someone else to suggest a better plan, like sleeping in the car, or going back to the pub, or just going home.

Personally, I had strong reservations about leaving the car and heading off down the glen in such terrible weather, because the extra hours in the pub had kept us back way past the sensible time for departure and ensured it was a slightly pixilated group that finally set off to walk in to Feshie bothy to climb the Moine Mhor munros, listen to the stags roaring, and generally soak up the bothy experience.

With heads down in the pouring rain and pitch-black darkness, we walked around the back of the farm, found the path and crossed the stile, heading south on the track that can be seen on the map extract. The weather was so bad that the horizontal rain absorbed the light from our head torches, so that the ground right in front of us was lit with a dim glow in which the Fhearnagan burn appeared as a turbulent and bottomless torrent – with the even worse news that the single plank bridge had been swept away!

Hunkered down against the strong wind and shouting over the roaring noise from the burn, we looked again at our options:

• Go back to the pub and regroup
• Go back to the car and sleep
• Go back to Feshie bridge and walk up the tarmac road
• Go home
• Wade the burn in classic style

Alcohol and stupidity carried the vote and we decided to show our mettle and wade the burn – the thought being that we were already so wet that partial immersion wouldn’t change things. With packs hanging from one shoulder, socks and trousers off, and boot insoles in pockets, we formed into groups of three and carefully stepped into the freezing cold water. Although the burn was only about twelve feet wide, we moved so slowly that it took three or four minutes for us to cross, leaning into the water pressure and feeling every inch of the way across the rocky bottom.

Sheer relief at getting over the burn boosted our morale, and once the breeks and socks were restored we felt like new men and headed off, past the boarded up cottage at Achleum and on to the tarmac at the landrover bridge. From there, it was just a trudge and after a while we passed the redeveloped houses and estate buildings at Carnachuin, then down to the old timber bridge (See footnote concerning this bridge).

Crossing the bridge and turning right, we kept the river on our right and walked upstream, until we could see the dim white shape of the bothy in the forest on the left. Aware of the lateness
of the hour and the necessity to keep noise and disturbance to a minimum, we crept in, carefully opened the inner door – and stepped straight into a crowded and superheated room, reeking with whisky fumes and wood smoke. In the candlelight, we saw that we knew several of those present (members of ‘The Stovies’ club) and we were soon safely ensconced by the fire, whisky glasses in hand.

Next morning, despite grim foggy weather, we planned to walk up the landrover track to the top of Mullach Clach a Bhlair, then walk back down over Druim nam B with its associated lochan, to try the cliff tops along Creag na Gaibhre. Once off the track, the expedition turned into an exercise in navigating by dead-reckoning , counting and pacing the steps on each leg of the course until we were safely back in the glen and heading for the bothy.

Some of the others wandered up the glen as far as the Eidart footbridge, admiring the last survivors of the ‘Great Wood of Caledon’ and exploring the steep ravines that are such a notable feature of the landscape. Other people (sore heads?) lingered around the cottage fire, tidying the place up and chopping wood ready for the evening. During late afternoon and early evening, various small groups and individuals arrived from ‘a the airts’, generally soaking wet and tired, but heading for a rendezvous with a warm fire and a good meal.

After a really substantial three course meal – our ‘cook’ despises dried or packet food, makes everything from basic ingredients, we settled down to listen to the ‘craic’, to swap our hill walking and outdoors experiences and generally to put the world to rights. As usual, it was a great evening, Feshie bothy did us all proud and the whisky flowed like buttermilk – we even had a 2 a.m. recital on the Highland Pipes.

Next morning, the weather looked more promising and we took an exploratory jaunt up through the woods, following the Allt Garbhlach into the recesses of dark Coire Garbhlach, before packing up and starting the reluctant road back into workaday cares and responsibilities.

Bothy culture is fairly classless and diverse, although tending to the republican/socialist way, and the people that you meet tend to be interesting and well travelled, so that each bothy experience produces a whole raft of enduring memories. The bothy system seems to be uniquely Scottish and it is something that users tend to cherish and protect – click on the link later on in this story if you’d like to become involved.

A word on the bothy itself. Many hill walkers call the place ‘Landseers Cottage’, after the famous Victorian painter – Monarch of the Glen and all that, but our understanding has always been that he lived a bit further up the glen when he was in the area, look for a forlorn chimney stack, last remnant of a timber cottage. Nowadays, the bothy is maintained on a co-operative basis between the Glen Feshie Estate and the Mountain Bothies Association and they have jointly done a great job in preserving and developing the place. From the innovative wet-flush toilet system to ample supplies of old fence posts to burn, the bothy is an excellent example of sensible co-operation on access and maintenance.

As with most highland estates, deer stalking is an important part of the economy of Glen Feshie and the Estate appreciates a telephone call on 01479 651324 to discuss your route if walking on the estate during the stag stalking season, 20th August – 20th October.

The bridge below Carnachuin is very much on its last legs, with a prominent ‘cross at your own risk’ message, and the view at deck level indicates that it may disappear after any spate. Would-be visitors should note that it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to ford the River Feshie when this bridge does eventually disappear and it will make sense to call the estate on the number given above before visiting after any exceptional weather. The meandering east bank footpath from near Achlean should be passable in almost any conditions.

The images are from personal visits to this fascinating mediaeval walled town in the verdant and beautiful countryside of Tuscany (click here for a good website about the history and attractions of the area). Many of the Italian families that form the backbone of the Scottish Ice Cream and Fish Restaurant trade originally came from around Barga, and their descendants maintain strong links with the area, thus producing a uniquely Scottish flavour to the place. The quality of the food, the beautiful wooded hillsides and dramatic mountains, the friendliness of the locals, all these things combine to make Barga a ‘must-see’ for folk visiting Tuscany.

If you’ve read this far, you have a choice. Click on each photo to enlarge, or click here to see a slide show, this works best with broadband. The slides will change every five seconds or so, keep clicking the ‘back’ arrow until you get back to this page.

Click on photos to see full size images.

Blame global warming if you like, but the hard crisp winters of happy memory are just that – memories. The pattern in more recent times has been for a dump of snow and sub-zero temperatures around the end of November (we all think ‘this is it’!), then a return to higher temperature levels and constant rainfall. Of course, the occasional good days that do happen occur when we are working or otherwise tied up and it would take Einstein to calculate the odds against the combination of brilliant blue sky + good snow cover + low wind speed + it’s the weekend + I have the time off.

That said, at least once each winter the ‘Golden Equation’ happens and it behoves us all to get our metaphorical skates on and hit the hills. A couple of years ago, the first great day for us was January 13. The hills were white, with a good dusting of snow at the higher elevations, and the weather forecast was for continuing high pressure, moderate wind speeds and zero precipitation. We had only a few hours to get out, so we discussed doing something local and agreed on a walk up Ben Lawers, bypassing most of the ‘tourist route’ by using the old slate quarry road that goes up and over the bealach between Beinn Ghlas and Meall Corranaich, passing the site of the old Ski Hut and making a right turn off the road before the bealach summit.

Through Callander, and with Ben Ledi gleaming with a dusting of new snow, the sun was shining with the promise of a great day ahead. Nearing Killin, the sight of the Tarmachans ridge covered in snow helped to lift the spirits even further, so after parking the car at the Ben Lawers visitor centre we fairly romped over the duckboards and away up the track. Walking this old track, it’s worth remembering that this area supported quite a seasonal population in bygone times. Recent archaeological investigation has indicated the existence of an ancient hunting camp near the summit of the bealach, and the track weaves around and through the remains of shielings and rough huts from when these hillsides were covered with grazing cattle and children, who lived up on the hill for months at a time. There was some early industry here too, local historical opinion in Killin maintains that some of the oldest slated buildings in the area are roofed by slate extracted from these hillsides, although the exact location of the slate quarry is unknown. Nowadays, visitors tend to be clad in hill gear and mainly keep to the right-hand fork of the track, to make a direct approach to Beinn Ghlas.

At the path junction, we took the old road up to the left, above the Burn of Edramucky and past the site of the old Scottish Ski Club Hut at the foot of Coire Odhar. In the ’90′s, we had a key to the hut and spent some memorable nights there, including one visit with the ‘Stovies’ Club, when we were impressed by the speed at which Dougie Dewar could move when someone spilled boiling water on the floor next to his sleeping form. Sadly, the hut is no more, with final demolition and funeral pyre back in 1999, but in happier times, the place served as a an occasional training base for the Killin MRT and even starred in one of Nick Nairn’s cookery programmes, with the Luti twins from Callander cast as star players. Back in the 1930′s, the hut was a very significant element in the early days of skiing in Scotland and was used during WW II as a base point for mountain warfare training for Commandos and Free Norwegian troops (see the editor’s note at the end of ‘Memories of Norway’ for a link to the uses of the hut in wartime). After the war, and as the Ski Club resumed using the hut, some of the earliest experiments in mechanical uplift took place in Coire Odhar – the evidence being the odd blocks of concrete hidden in the heather, complete with rusting cables and attachments.

Weather conditions had changed during our climb, with increasing high-level temperatures producing a temperature inversion and filling the glens with mist, so that the mountains to the west and south stood out like islands in a silver sea, producing magical effects and optical illusions. From our vantage point on Beinn Ghlas, we enjoyed views of Ben Vorlich and Stuc a’ Chroin and the Meall nan Tarmachan/Meall Garbh group – while to the south, a glimpse of Loch Tay under the inversion made an interesting and unusual spectacle. The state of the snow improved as we climbed, and from halfway up the final slope conditions were ideal for crampons, so we enjoyed a smooth ascent up the edge of the crags and buttresses overlooking Roro Glen and Glen Lyon, pausing for photos of the munros Meall a’ Choire Leith and Meall Corranaich en route.

The panorama from near the top of Beinn Ghlas showed us the spindrift blowing from the tops, with Ben Lawers in all its 1214 metre splendour, and with An Stuc and Meall Garbh glimpsed away on the northeast ridge. A quick run up and down the final slope, an even more rapid descent on a bearing for the top of the path and we were bound for a quick pint in the Rob Roy bar at The Kingshouse at Balquhidder road end.

At least once each winter it happens – will you be ready?

Something to get straight from the very start – there never was a tribe of Indians called the ‘Anasazi’. The name derives from a Navajo word, loosely translated as ‘ancient enemy’, first used by archaeologists looking for a common name to identify people living in the ‘Four Corners’ area where New Mexico, Utah, Colorado and Arizona meet, between circa 1 and 1300AD.

Modern pueblo Indians living in Arizona and New Mexico are descended from the ‘Anasazi’ and they make pilgrimages to ancestral sites and maintain an oral history that includes these places, but as the title is considered to be pejorative it is nowadays usual to refer to these ancient inhabitants as the ‘Ancestral Pueblo Peoples’.

Artefact evidence shows that people successfully lived and farmed these mesa areas from around 10,000BC, with gradual evolution from nomadic hunting and gathering into a relatively static and agrarian lifestyle, and that their houses and other buildings evolved in a similar way, from isolated and semi-subterranean ‘pit-houses’ into small villages of interconnected houses and store-rooms able to shelter an entire clan or extended family.

From circa 1100 to 1200 AD, the area saw an intriguing final phase of development. Between these dates, the people began moving their dwellings from the river valleys and the tops of the mesas into the shallow caves and massive overhangs that abound in the sandstone strata of this region. After almost 1,000 years, archaeologists are unclear why this transition took place, but as the new cliff-dwellings offered significant environmental and security advantages over the previous above-ground structures, then it is probable that a combination of climatic and social change was the principal motivation for a very significant investment of time and effort in building these well-crafted and extensive settlements.

Then, quite suddenly (on an archaeological time scale), the record of occupation of the cliff-dwellings comes to an end. Over a relatively short period, the sites are abandoned and the people move elsewhere, leaving behind valuable objects and possessions, thereby posing the most commonly asked Mesa Verde questions: “why did they leave, and where did they go”.

Archaeological opinions differ about the exact reasons for the abandonment of the sites, but it seems that the people were driven out by long-term climate change, with increased aridity, shortened frost-free growing seasons and gradual exhaustion of the available arable land by over-cropping. Examination of tree-ring growth patterns shows that cycles of persistent drought and very low temperatures occurred several times during this period, and this, perhaps compounded by internal socio-political strife, deforestation and other environmental problems, probably caused final abandonment. What is certain are the final destinations of those involved in this diaspora; the people moved in a south-westerly direction, down to lower altitudes and into the territories of friendly tribes, where their descendants became fully assimilated into the pueblo people of the present day

After abandonment, the dust of centuries settled on the ruins and the cliff-dwellings became ‘lost cities’ – relatively unknown to European settlers, although two doughty Franciscan Friars had confirmed the presence of significant Indian ruins in the area during their epic 1776 exploration and mapping expedition of the interior West.

Apart from these revelations, the sites remained untouched and were revered by local tribes as holy places until 1888, when the area was accidentally re-discovered by two cowboys named Richard Wetherill and Charles Mason, together with a Ute Indian named Acowitz. At the time, the discovery was sensational, because the European settlers that had taken the land away from the indigenous people(s) didn’t want to acknowledge hard evidence that the country really belonged to someone else, or that people capable of building such structures had been there first. They also had an eye for a quick buck, because the early treatment of the re-discovered sites was shameful. Wetherill and his cronies, together with local people, allegedly excavated the whole area looking for artefacts to sell to the tourists who flocked to the area when the discoveries were publicised.

On a happier note, the whole area was made into a National Park in 1906 and the sites are now carefully preserved, with the modern pueblo peoples having strong representation on the committees governing archaeological digs and the display of materials.

The photos are from a couple of visits to this fascinating area – a place of mystery!

We made three separate trips on this famous narrow gauge railway, from Durango to the old mining town of Silverton, 9,300 feet up in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. Originally, the line had a southern connection at Durango with the Denver and Rio Grande line, founded in 1870 to connect Denver and Mexico by rail. The terminus at Silverton connected with three branch lines bringing in supplies and shipping ore out from the remote mining towns in the upper Animas river valley and surrounding areas, but the prosperity of these places was linked to the market for silver and falling prices meant that the industry gradually declined over the years; although the last mine endured until the 1990′s.

This really was the Wild West, the town was so tough that semi-official ‘vigilantes’ were responsible for upholding the law and the legendary gunslinger Bat Masterson was brought in from Dodge City to get things back under control. The resilience of the miners was legendary; only people with robust constitutions could survive and they had to be fairly desperate for the elusive ‘lucky strike; because the difficulties of living and working in this high altitude environment are extreme.

Winter is from September to May up here, with around forty feet of snow and very low temperatures for more than six months; even with ‘global warming’ the frost-free growing season only lasts fourteen days, the one reliable vegetable crop being brussels sprouts! The town is surrounded by four big mountains, (Sultan Mountain is the highest, at 13,336 feet), and some of the higher mines were at altitudes of more than twelve thousand feet – miners working some of the smaller claims lived in rickety shacks built directly over the shaft entrances, literally out of bed and down the mine.

Nowadays, Silverton has a winter population of 370 people, but back in the mining boom around 5,000 people were in permanent residence, with several thousands of itinerants living in tents and squatting in old mine workings and the like.

The remoteness of the town meant that it was the focal point for ‘action’ for miners with money to spend, thus producing an extensive saloon and brothel area centred on ‘the notorious Blair Street’. Many of the brothels and one-roomed ‘cribs’ used by the prostitutes are still in existence, now used as shops or small houses. This part of town had a wild reputation until the closing of the last working mine, and local people are still nostalgic about the frontier atmosphere of the town in those days.

The slideshow follows the train trip fairly closely, leaving Durango and following the fertile river plain of the Rio de los Animas Perdidos (or in English, the River of Lost Souls, usually abbreviated to ‘Animas’), then climbing on an average 4-5% grade through the Animas gorge all the way to Silverton. En route, the line passes through truly magnificent scenery, with beautiful alpine meadows and groves of shimmering aspen trees, jagged mountains with lots of snow, the ruins of old mine buildings – and always with the foaming and turbulent river.

Counting down to the financial and gastronomic overload of the festive season, I saw a post on Rick Seaney’s blog giving advice to US ‘Road Warriors’ on how to maintain their Frequent Flyer VIP status during the coming year. Apparently, the fix is to become a ‘mileage runner‘ and book yourself on the cheapest long haul flights (to any destination) that will allow the accumulation of enough air miles to maintain your ‘Gold Card’ status throughout 2008.

As you might expect, there are number of sites (try here and here and here) commenting on this strange phenomenon; some with details of little tricks that will lead to the promised land of ‘free’ upgrades, others ranting on the irresponsibility of polluting the environment in pursuit of such hedonistic goals.

I know that these are scheduled flights and the plane flies whether the seats are filled or not; I know that these folks are spending their own money and it’s their call if they want to spend it and to punish their backsides making pointless flights to places that they don’t really want to visit, just to maintain the perks that go with elite flyer status. It just seems strange to me that the air transport industry hasn’t figured out how to keep everyone happy.

There is a golden opportunity here for airlines to go proactive and to tie these customers in, grab some good PR and produce measurable reductions in carbon dioxide emissions. All the airlines need to do is to identify the target clients (easy, via existing mileage records), then offer them a deal whereby they pay the ‘mileage runner’ fare up front, the airline credits the ‘mileage’ without the ‘runner’ bit, keeps part of the money and uses the remainder to buy carbon offsets. Result? We’re all happy little teddies (except in Khartoum, teddies have a tough time there, whatever they are called!).

I’m posting this page from the departures lounge at the new Hong Kong airport. So that’s it; the 2007 big trip is all over – except for the grim business of the return trip to Glasgow and a few restless nights until we are over the jet lag.

Hong Kong was definitely worth the visit, big visual changes since my last trip in 1990, lots of new buildings and reclaimed land, including the award winning new airport complex, built by pushing an entire mountain into the sea!

The mix of visitors has changed a lot since 1997; around 40% are now from Mainland China, something unheard of during the days of British rule. The mix of industry has changed a lot too, much of the manufacturing and light assembly work has been moved to new purpose-built plants on the mainland, where labour costs are much lower than in Hong Kong.

We did the usual tourist stuff, like Stanley Market, Victoria Peak Tram, visit to a jewellery factory, etc. All good fun, and with the results that you can see in the photo set.

Another trip was out to the New Territories, mainly to look at the Buddhist and Taoist temples at Lohan and Tai Po. This was a very instructive and thoughtful tour, led by Don, a local history buff and culture enthusiast and someone who knows what he’s talking about. Don maintains a photo blog to show the sort of stuff that he is interested in; he could be a worthwhile contact if you plan a Hong Kong visit.

My memories of Singapore as being rather like a concrete tropical garden were valid. Although it has been almost twenty years since my last visit, the pace of change and urban development seems to have accelerated , with new high rise apartment blocks and condominiums everywhere and construction cranes sprouting like an of invasion of giant birds.

That said, the essential nature of the place is unchanged, that fascinating and multi-cultured combination of commerce and tradition that has been the ethos of this small island since Raffles first walked ashore back in 1819. Raffles came to open up a trading post for the British East India Company, something that was a spectacular success, guaranteeing his place in the history books, a permanent position for his statue on the banks of the Singapore river and a place in the hearts of Singaporeans.

I tried to locate the Marco Polo Hotel, my location on past visits and a place with happy memories, but like so many other buildings it has been replaced by a condominium tower block, one of the huge number that dominate the downtown area.

We walked around the vibrant Orchard Road shopping area, a locale that had changed and expanded since my last visit (more big name brands and expensive boutique malls) – but still a place to pick up a bargain and packed with shoppers and youngsters out for a promenade. Visitors to this island nation regularly comment on the politeness and humour of the mixed ethnicity and multi-cultural Singaporean society here, something that is well demonstrated on Orchard Road. The service quality in the stores is smiling and efficient too, lessons that could be learned by shops back in the UK.

The weather was overcast and very humid for us, overcast skies becoming more leaden as the day progressed and with warm rain in the afternoon, a lot of the locals carried umbrellas, so this type of weather must be a feature of life on the island at this time of the year (November).

The photos show images from our river trip (on a Singapore bumboat!) to see Raffles in all his glory and some flower pictures from a visit to the Botanic Gardens -a must for anyone interested in tropical plants, particularly orchids.

Well, thats it, our down under sojourn is over, we’re en route to Singapore for a quick gin sling at the Raffles Hotel, then on to Hong Kong for a look at whats been happening since the Brits left back in 1997.

The few days that we spent in Perth were very enjoyable, meeting cousins that we’d never seen before and taking a good look around the city, the Swan River basin and downstream to Fremantle. We were really impressed by Perth and environs, the outlying suburbs on the seaward side included some very desirable new housing areas, with house styles appropriate to the sunny climate and yard areas reflecting the Aussie predilection with outdoor living and entertaining. The new housing that lines the river frontage is particularly impressive (and very expensive!), but as you might expect, the egalitarian Aussie outlook has ensured that houses are set back from the water and that cycle paths and tree-shaded walkways follow the river edge all the way down to Fremantle.

My last visit to Fremantle was as a returning migrant, homeward bound to England on board the Orient Line SS Otranto. This was the same vessel that had carried the Hipkin team to Australia way back in 1951, my mother was so impressed that she insisted on going home in the same style. Click this link to read an extract from my draft autobiography covering this period – please excuse typos or grammatical howlers (but tell me about them). The Fremantle outlook has changed dramatically over the last fifty-three years – the drab warehouses and wharves replaced by dock and marina areas full of expensive boats and eateries designed to appeal to all levels of taste and depth of pocket.

Check out the photo set from Perth, see if you are as impressed as we were.

It’s a bit early for me to fully comment on my feelings about the Australia part of the trip – I need some thinking time to process the information – and I will post another more detailed blog in due course – watch this space.