Blenheim Palace

Visiting Blenheim Palace in the autumn is a bit like taking a five course meal,
at a leisurely pace of course, with each course providing a further tasty morsel
of satisfaction. We were on our way to Liverpool for a family funeral, stopped
in an Oxford services for a break, then wondered if there was somewhere we could
visit for an hour or two? Why not Blenheim which sits on the main road north of
Oxford into Woodstock, a little town which tells you we are in honey coloured
Cotswolds country. Woodstock is a bit like the town belonging to that large
estate over there i.e. Blenheim. Not just a few labourers cottages, but a whole
shop, hotel and full services stocked town to complement His Grace's estate. It
is jolly nice of the 12th Duke of Marlborough to invite us to share the delights
of his adjoining wonderful estate, built in the 18th century to celebrate
beating the French in the War of the Spanish Succession. It was especially built
as a gift to the 1st Duke of Marlborough, John Churchill, who led the allied
forces at the battle of Blenheim, 13th August 1704.

Blenheim of course is the birthplace of Winston Churchill, the ultimate British
bulldog, and is suitably grand for such an event. Churchill is buried just down
the road in the village of Bladon. If you wanted somewhere for such a leader to
be born you couldn't top Blenheim, one of the largest and grandest houses in
England. Approaching from the south you turn left into the palace grounds just
before entering the centre of Woodstock, and are then faced with a long straight
road through open parkland that arrows right up to the palace itself, sitting
pretty and unobscured by vegetation in between. Entrance fees paid at the little
kiosk just inside the gates are on the high side and we paid a tidy £13 each
just for the park and gardens (I have been inside the house before). You park up
on the right hand side of the road and walk to the monster of a building in
front of you and admire its sheer hugeness and stateliness, throwing out its
vast wings from the English baroque central core like a military commander
flourishIng his cape. That's the first course.






Then you can dip down over the bridge upon the Great Lake to aim for that
impressive looking obelisk in the far distance on the endless grass incline,
standing in solitary splendour to tear the eye away from just admiring the
palace itself. Why not dilly dally on the bridge and admire the landscaped
perfection created by Lancelot 'Capability' Brown. Here the bridge divides two
sections of lake which balloon out on either side as if pinched in the middle by
a giant hand. To one side the lake separates us from the town of Woodstock whose
townscape can be seen straddling the horizon. On the other the lake curves round
into wooded charm and gentle hillock, the scene that would have faced Winston as
he proposed to his beloved all those years ago barely a stone's throw and some
more from the mansion.

It's a hearty walk to this Column of Victory, the second course, built to
remember the legacy of the 1st Duke of Marlborough, set in a sloping green sea
with uninterrupted views down to the lake and on to the house, at the entrance
of what is known as the Grand Avenue. On all four sides at the base of the
obelisk are written various and multitudinous words evoking something of the
history of these splendid isles. Fully 40m high, the obelisk is a great photo
opportunity and scenic viewpoint for this magnificent park. The weather was on
our side, as a crisp autumn day meant blue sky, plentiful lashings of cloud, a
chop suey of seasonal colours and some welcome setting sun lighting up the stone
facades of both the obelisk and the palace.

We wend our way back to the palace, admiring the wide open vistas of this blob
of bucolic beauty, a mix of ever so gently rolling green carpet, man made water
features and surrounding woodland, another jigsaw piece in the garden that is
England. The way to the formal gardens seems to inexplicably finish in a dead
end, so we retrace our steps and wander around the skirts of the palace itself
looking for a way through until a helpful staffer points us in the right
direction. The third course however has waylaid us, it's the East Courtyard shop
which can happily occupy anyone for an hour or so with its attractive array of
items for sale. It's big, and expensive looking, like a National Trust shop par
excellence. I'd feel much more comfortable entering if I had green wellies, a
tweed cap and a Barbour jacket, perhaps with a gun under my arm after a bit of
grouse shooting. And of course leaving a truly massive 4 X 4 outside. I usually
go for the books in these sorts of shops, but there's plenty for everyone, food,
clothes, memorabilia, the lot. A very pleasant way of wasting a bit of time!





The fourth course for us was wandering through the courtyard of the big house,
which you can do without a house ticket (there's a ticket office here where I
think you can convert your ticket to a yearly one, you couldn't resist if a
local), then mosey on down to the formal gardens before dusk, then take a little
lakeside stroll in Winston Churchill territory. Here you can admire alternative
aspects of the great house, see the Churchill Memorial Garden, and the Temple of
Diana where the great man proposed to his future wife, Clementine Hosier on the
11th August 1908.

The last course is a trip to the Oxfordshire Pantry tea room adjacent to the
shop where you can have the typical English cream tea experience, and where
better to have it than here. Wallow in carrot cake, coffee cake or whatever is
on offer. By the time you return to your car you will feel suitably full of
stately home fatness. Try and remember where you put your car however, as in the
dark it might take a minute or two to find it amongst all the other vehicles!

Pastel colours of Nice

France 2015 French Alps and Cote D'Azur

Les Menuires 3 valley ski resort

After landing at Geneva airport I caught the train to Moutiers-Salin-Brides-les-Bai, a four hour journey via Chambery-Challes-les-Eaux and Albertville. (46 Swiss francs) Chambery provided a good place for a coffee stop and a leg stretch round the town. At Moutiers I was met by our kindly chef plus minibus to shuttle me the last leg to the chalet. Being night time I missed the views. I stayed in Roberty 2000 in the French Alps first of all. This is part of the village of Les Menuires, 1850m above sea level, so hidden in the folds of the Alps but within striking distance of Annecy and a three hour transfer from Geneva airport. Here the slopes are connected to 600km of slopes in Les Trois vallees, part of the largest skiable area in the world. Here you can have a profitable summer mountain experience of enjoying some great summit views and also lots of activities for all the family, using some of the infrastructure that has been built for the winter season.

Above the clouds

The chalet in Roberty lies high above the village, a good twenty minutes walk uphill, and commands fine views to salivate over when you are having your breakfast. Nearby is a supermarket style shop to get your basic provisions, but if you want more choice you will have to descend to the village centre almost at the bottom of the steep valley. Here you find a sizeable Carrefours supermarket, but also most of the shops, facilities, restaurants and bars you would need for a week as it is all geared up for winter and summer seasons.

A week's pass for €44 gets you free use of the cable cars and chairlifts in the area. As well as this you get various freebies or discounts. e.g. free swimming and use of the gym at the local sports centre and a free session of archery, whilst you get discounts on things like the luge ride, which is like a downhill toboggan ride on rails with lots of curves and the ability to brake and speed up of your own accord. Great fun on the bends when you can fail to brake if of a risky nature! Use of the cable cars sounds good, but of course they are not all open as it is summer, and those that are open are open on particular days, so you have to plan ahead.

On the first full day I went marmot spotting. These are incredibly shy creatures that are cuddly enough to look as if they have just jumped out of a Disney cartoon. They live in the rock outcrops at the bottom of the valley for instance and gambol around and peep out at you if you are very quiet and still. But there's only so much marmot spotting you can do in a day and after a while I left and teamed up with some of the others going for a walk along the valley.

My first day proved to be a 'miserable failure as a mountaineer' day, as I took the cable car, Bruyeres 1, halfway up the mountain to the first station, but could go no further as the car to the top was closed because it was too windy. So I decided to go for a walk, but then when I espied the summit, Mont de la Chambre, I thought I could reach it as it was visible and not too far away! Possible mistake! I reached the top after following the curves of the track up the mountain, sometimes passed by work vehicles speeding up to or down from the top. I appeared to be the only tourist on a remote summit apart from a few workmen. The sensible tourists were down in the valley having a beer or doing archery!

Cold but swimmable!

I took my photos on an admittedly blustery summit, and gave myself one and three quarter hours to descend. The mistake I made was to not return on the main track but to follow short cuts on steeper slopes. This meant the continual digging of my big toes into the ends of my trainers  which caused serious bruising and a sore night! Also the mist descended as I progressed, until the cable car and chairlift lines became somewhat too indistinct and finally disappeared from view. I tried to follow one signpost but it led onto open ground, first crossing a stream and then downhill over unknown mist covered terrain. A recipe for disaster! Who knew what unknown ledges and rock faces were hiding in the gloom? I decided to retrace my steps to the track, a laborious climb back uphill just when I was feeling slightly despondent. By now I was resigned to the fact I might not make dinner. Shock horror, I arrived on the holiday one day late and now I might miss the first evening meal! The track went downhill, that was the main thing. Once I reached the bottom I could get a taxi home if necessary. Once on the the track I firmly stayed en route until I spotted the signs to my chalet. It was a sobering experience as mist covered mountains are a little unnerving and even when I neared the chalet, Roberty village was there one minute and gone the next as the mist thickened or swirled from one spot to another. I still had to phone to locate the exact spot of our chalet, and a kind soul came out to meet me on a fog bound road. It was with great relief that I arrived just in time for canapés!

We had various walks. One was up the mountain trail on the other side of the valley to a lovely lake, the Lac du Lou, where you can swim and sunbathe. There is also a cafe with a great view where I bought a cheap lunch and joined the others who had forged ahead. If you want you can ascend further up into the mountains, or just resign yourself to the fact that you will have to spend the rest of the day relaxing and enjoying the view of the lake. Another day I took the cable cars right to the top of the summit I had walked on the first day. Bumped into the holiday leader on the way up. We got some great photos under a burnished blue sky, especially of that little bump in the distance named Mt Blanc, looking like some giant wedding cake that's been mauled by a giant, frosty white against a clear blue sky. The photo opportunity could not have been better.

The first two days in the French Alps the weather was on the inclement side, but after that the celestial gas burners fired up and we were in for a really hot spell which continued more or less until the end of the holiday in Nice. One day I just took the cable car, Roc 1, up from the village and you find yourself in a gently rolling part of the mountains where you can take a hike to two lakes, one only half an hour away (it gives you the timings on the signposts). At the lake you can find yourself your own rock perch and enjoy a picnic whilst admiring the scenery. People are scarce, the odd few walkers and fellow picknickers.

Another day I joined two fellow guests and we walked down the valley a few miles to the village of Saint Martin de Belleville. As you head down the valley the scenery becomes more lush and welcoming as compared with the rather bare and scarred slopes around St Martin. It seems a shame that the summer Alps can be damaged so much by the winter ski season. However, further down the valley it is much more as you would expect the Alps to be, undisturbed woodland, rolling meadows and quiet alpine settlement with overflowing flower boxes at the windows. We were headed to the market in the centre of the village at our destination, but sadly it was off much to the chagrin of the supermarket vendor who seemed to be railing against the whole system. We found an excellent café/restaurant for a coffee and ate our sandwiches in the town square. Then we met up with the friendly South African family that were staying at the chalet and I got a lift back with them to St Martin, via a quick stop to look at where the company has got a new chalet for the winter season. They invited me to join them at the outdoor centre and try the zip wire across the valley but I declined in favour of doing a bit of sunbathing by the river!

Mont Blanc 

The last day I had been advised to take a trek to the summit on the other side of the valley, past the lake that a group of us had visited a day or two previously. But I needed some sun tan lotion and some euro, so anywhere I went would have to be via the town centre. When I got to the town centre the lure of the archery drew me in, and I got put on the longest range on my own, fairing pretty well in hitting the target more often than not. Then I noticed they'd opened up a cable car (Masse 1) that Friday up the other side of the valley so went for it. At the top I could go further, reach for the sky. The car took you a long way up but there was still a way to go. Footsies were still sore so had to be looked after so I climbed to a ridge enough to give me some decent all rounder shots. With excellent visibility Mt Blanc was revealing its sharp, jagged, white nakedness in all its its glory. You climb up a great grey gash scoured out of the mountain, no doubt another ski run, passing a flock of loose haired brown alpine cattle with big bells. With that lovely clean sound you could find them in the mist! Then when you tip onto the ridge after passing a lake you get some stupendous all round views into new territory. Forget that lonely conical summit up there, there's enough to see, my big toes have suffered enough. I walk the ridge to the next ski station, which I guess is as busy as Victoria station in the winter but barely a soul now. I climb onto the grassy crag beside it for some more 360 degree camera shots, and get attacked at the top by a swarm of big flies or mossies sweeping into my face. I must have disturbed the fly king of the mountain. It's the plagues of Egypt in the French Alps! I can bear it for seconds then make my descent. I stand in a little hut strategically placed by the ski station and admire the view, right down to our village and the chalet nestling in the mountain side. Then it's down to that pretty lake I passed on the way up to find a rock to eat my lunch. A scattering of people sit sunbathing round the lake, and the odd fisherman caresses the banks. You approach the edge of the water and a thousand tiny fish shoot from the side like mini submarines leaving the mother craft. I make my descent to the cable car well before the last ride down. I don't want to face another long descent with my tender big toes, even in this summer heat.

Our time in the French Alps is now over. It's a jolly jaunt by car from St Martin to Geneva airport by car through some truly wonderful scenery, massive mountains overlooking steep valleys, and the town and region of Annecy looks to be worth a holiday on its own. Here is a beautiful big lake dedicated to all things watersports and surrounded by mountain ranges, also bordered by a lovely old town. The presence of lots of people sunbathing and boating indicates a plum place to be. What's not to like?

Well I seemed to have landed on my feet yet again this time with Airbnb. I only booked on the day before and have ended up with superb accommodation for £63 for two nights. It is in the village of Colle sur Loup up in the foothills of the coastal mountains, just inland from Cagnes sur Mere.The village itself is a great little base for a holiday in itself. This area is a green wavy carpet covered in settlements stretching from Cagnes sur Mere on the coast up to the sweet little town of Vence which boasts a circular medieval centre. Vence is definitely worth a visit. The bus takes you to the bus station just by the roundabout Place Marechal Juin, and from there you take the Avenue de la Resistance straight into the town centre, right up against the old town. The local bus sweeps you back and forth over the area and takes you into Nice. Be aware though of your flight arrival time at the airport. If you land like me around nine in the evening you will miss the last bus which meant a 55 euro taxi ride, a bit of a shock.

Nice Beach eastern end

My accommodation is in an old French house with a large patio at the back furnished with garden chairs and tables. Beyond, the garden drops down on a split level overlooking a very pleasant rural scene. Basically I have ended up with the bit on the side of the house, you know the bit where they used to store wood or maybe keep a couple of animals. Now it has been transformed into a long narrow, trendy, chic studio with a very comfortable bed and ultra modern shower and wash basin. There are lots of little touches of class around the room, your little pictures and modern art over the bed, and everything is spotlessly clean. Possibly the best place I have stayed in and competitive with a decent hotel. The lady of the house gave me a further three nights for 90 euro, although I had to split the stay for one night as she had a couple booked. So I stayed in another Airbnb in Saint Laurent, Nice for that one night. Another good choice, I ended up with a very nice Italian host in a spotless apartment in a block of flats.

Place Massena

Place Massena

Nice endlessly curves round its bay, the Baie des Anges, shimmering white buildings above that azure sea. One of the biggest cities in France with a population of about a million and the busiest airport outside Paris attracting 4 million odd tourists a year, I'd take it any time above Blackpool! Nice has that feel good factor in spades on this blistering hot late August day, elegant architecture all around and streets teeming with people. I went into the shopping centre to have lunch and plug into the wifi at a sandwich bar in the sparkling  new shopping precinct with its space age capsule lifts. Lots of pretty architecture with endless shades of pastel, greens, fawns and blues. Towards the sea front is

Nice

the Place Massena, a palatial expansive square which throws out green carpets of open space to the east and west. Here are a multitude of mini fountains for children to splash through in their swimmers, and lots of lawn to munch lunch on. Even the railway station provides architectural eye candy and would be a worthy competition entry with its light coloured 19th century frontage and tall, elegant station roof. The beach in Nice is pebbles but that's bearable in such a location and there's the added bonus of close ups of airliners winging their way into Nice airport which is virtually at the end of the beach.

Nice

Nice colours!

Place Garibaldi

The bus service round here is mind blowingly cheap. They've charged me €1.50 to go from Colle sur Loup into the centre of Nice, a journey that takes nearly an hour. Must be the socialist local government! All the journeys seem to be the same fixed price. Although the journey is longer it certainly helps the budget!

Antibes - my host in Colle sur Loup suggests Antibes as the best place to go and for €5.20 return you can get the train down the coast from Cagnes sur Mere. As has happened before I get stuck behind customers in the ticket queue who wanted to reorganise the national railway system. First it was what looked like father and son debating their journey with the lady behind the counter. When they had finished one lady in front surely could not take long. But I was wrong, wrong, wrong! She produced a plastic sleeve folder from which she pulled several sheets of paper. These were the passed through the counter and arrayed in a pretty pattern across the ticket issuers desk. We were here for the long haul as I saw my train enter the station, then leave. Meanwhile the queue was lengthening behind me and a cloud of long-sufferingness has descended on everyone, no sign of French lawlessness here. It was like she was arranging for a school full of teenagers to go on some trip. Eventually we got there, and I caught the next train just 20m later.

The train station at Cagnes sur Mere is a way inland from the beach, but soon the train hits the coast and hugs it all the way to Antibes. Antibes sits on the eastern neck of a little peninsula that sticks out like an animal's head to the south and ending at the Cap D'Antibes. The railway snakes across the neck before disappearing west. Antibes itself oozes class, with its ancient harbour walls providing a lovely winding elevated walkway to observe the old town, the beaches and yacht marina. Here to the north of the old town lie the largish Port Vauban and the vieux port packed with the Mediterranean medley of fashionable sea craft.

Not one for lying on the beach all day, I escaped the heat of the midday sun by visiting the Picasso Museum, cost €6, housed in an imposing building right on the seafront where Picasso himself was given a workshop in his time here. I'm not a great one for art, but you get a good feel for Picasso's work, and one or two other artists. There were sketches of fauns, satyrs and nymphs, there were the usual nudes, there were lots of plates and some pots made by Picasso with his distinctive designs of everyday objects imprinted on them, as he had got into pottery and sculpture as well. Not just a painter. Also there were photos of him and his lady taken by an American war photographer who took a famous series of black and white portraits of Picasso and his lifestyle. If you like Picasso you would be in heaven, myself I found it difficult to appreciate the level of abstractness squeezed out of reality that he portrayed, but I do appreciate his use of colour, especially the vivid brightness of his pottery work.

Next to the museum is the cathedral, again hugging the waterfront sea walls, very attractive from the outside and not too overdone in its decor inside. The old town is a splendid concoction of narrow streets, a tree filled square, and pastel coloured dwellings all typically Mediterranean. No wonder Picasso loved it here.

I have been to Antibes before when I camped at Cagnes sur Mere I guess about 14 years ago, and all I remember is wandering around the Cap d'Antibes amongst the opulent villas of the rich and famous in the midday heat. I don't even remember visiting the beach. This time I walked from Antibes to its neighbour Juan-les Pins which is a mile or so walk across a neck of land to westerly facing beaches on the other side. These are supposed to be the best beaches on the island but be warned, it is a great spot with sand rather than shingle but a lot of the beachfront has been taken over by umbrella filled 'pay only' stretches. However you can find very nice stretches of public beach if you are prepared to walk a little, only thing is there's not much space at all so you have to diplomatically find a little empty patch. Having settled down for the afternoon I became aware of a group of Africans with a music box playing an incessant beat which I knew would assault my senses for the rest of the afternoon so I moved out of earshot once I had overcome the inertia of my first patch of beach territory.

Nice to have some sand at Antibes after pebbly beaches in Nice and Cagnes sur Mere which are really hard on the feet. Pack those jellies! Give yourself a good half an hour to get from Juan-les Pins back to Antibes rail station on foot, unless you have a ticket to Juan-les Pins station itself.

On the last day I decided to strike east down the coast towards Italy so after getting to Nice by bus I caught another bus from the port to Menton again for the ridiculously cheap price of €1.50 for a journey of one and a quarter hours, going through Villefranche sur Mere, Beaulieu sur Mere, Eze sur Mere and Monaco-Monte Carlo. The journey reminds me of the Amalfi Coast, the same steep hillsides running down from high craggy mountain summits straight into the sea, with almost continual settlement straggled out along the coast. This is well established tourist territory, renowned internationally for its glamorous resorts.

Menton is the stop just before you tip over into Italy. It speaks of the grandeur, pomp and opulence of yesteryear when only the rich and famous would have migrated here for their vacations, but now everybody does it. The hotels, civic buildings and apartment blocks burst out in splendour, colourful shutters and metalwork, and all the shades of pastel you can think of. The Jardin Bioves, a decorative green space, swathes straight as an arrow down to the seafront between avenues from near the rail station. There is a fine beach stretching around the bay to the west of the town, and another beach tucked into the port area below the old town., although at the moment there is lots of construction work around the port, the vieux port.

One problem I faced was getting caught short and no public toilets on the sea front. What is it with France at the moment? The toilet at the rail station was out of use, another toilet near the sea front was also taped off, and there was nothing on the beach. Hot footing it from the beach to find somewhere I walked with relief into McDonald's, knowing they are that great servant of mankind. Horror of horrors, the toilet had a key pad, the number for which you could only get if you bought something. By now I was seriously desperate and as if powered by a nuclear device, propelled myself back to the seafront and into a cafe. Ordering a coffee, I tried as calmly as possible to request the loo. Thank god they had one!



After enjoying the rest of my coffee on the seafront, I meandered back to the station through the old town, taking shots of architecture the caught the eye, including a massive hotel with an Arabic name, visions of Middle Eastern money? I caught the train back along the coast (€7.50) to suit my timings. This time it was dusk so it was more difficult to appreciate the surrounding beauty. My arrival at Cagnes sur Mere dovetailed nicely with the evening bus to Colle sur Loup. However I was too late for the delicious pizza at the restaurant I had visited previously. Shame as the pizza was excellent. This is the only problem staying in a little village. There's not so many restaurants some of which may close quite early. I can recommend the L'auberge Provençal where I had a couple of nice meals, especially a fish dish on the last night.

I got home from Nice via Copenhagen as it was much cheaper than flying direct, about £122. Saved quite a bit of money and also had time to nip into Copenhagen on the metro to have a look round the city centre and take some great photos on a blue sky day!

Normandy

Perusals of a D day trip

Two days in Normandy courtesy of Brittany Ferries is a splendid investment. I had a few days left before returning to work and another of those ideas that I'd never got round to lodged itself in the forefront of my mind. Do a trip to the Normandy beaches and learn a little bit more about the sacrifice made on D day to save Europe. I was pleasantly surprised by the Brittany prices, £65 return for a voyage that takes a good 5 and three quarter hours each way, and the 8.15am ferry gets you there by mid afternoon. If you want to take your car it costs a lot more and I decided against it. It would be a lot more worth it if you were going to France for an appreciable time, perhaps a month, but certainly not for two days. I hired a car from Enterprise cars in Caen for about €95 all included, although I paid an extra €10 for tyres and windscreen protection.

Brittany Ferries chucks you into Normandy at the port of Oustreheim just upriver from Caen, and there you catch a bus for €1.45 into town, a half hour or so journey. Beats a taxi any day. The bus deposits you in the 'centre de ville' or at 'la gare' or the rail station, whichever you prefer. Well, as the car hire place was next to 'la gare' there was no question.

Let it be said that a conversation outside a loo led to the beginning of a beautiful relationship! Now normally if I told you I indulged in a profitable conversation outside a toilet you would give me a funny look, but this was different. Before the car hire I thought a loo stop in order and duly found a queue in la gare. Now Caen is a fair size rail station but there only appeared to be two cubicles and one was out of order. This was not looking good! In front of me an American was thanking a French couple for talking to him. They appeared to have given him priority in the queue. Then they engaged me in conversation and were trying to help me get my turn as it were. We practiced our French and English on one another then after the loo break they engaged me in further conversation, in the end buying me a coffee and giving me all their contact details. Is this the ongoing gratitude the people of Normandy feel for their liberators 70 years ago?


So I landed on my feet on the first day despite the odd hiccup. I had booked a car with Enterprise Cars the previous night and it had been a slightly tortuous phone conversation as firstly I could not hear the girl very clearly on the other end of the phone but also she had a foreign accent which whatever one may say can cause communication problems. In the end we got there, and I was happy I had my car sorted although not hearing from Enterprise by email or text before collecting the car.

On reaching the car hire office opposite la gare the nice French assistant looked for my reservation in 'Caen' on the computer without success. It suddenly dawned on me that the lady the previous night may have booked me a car somewhere else and I was right! She had indeed managed to book me a car in Cannes in the south of France rather than Caen in northern France. So much for my French pronunciation. Slightly problematic as Cannes was a long way to go. But Enterprise saved the day! Amazingly a gentleman had just returned a car to the office which was the one for me!

I still had to finalise my accommodation as being a last minute dot com. Ikind of guy. I travel to new destinations on the spur of the moment which makes life a bit more spontaneous but sometimes you can run into little glitches.

I still had not heard from the B and B I had tried to book the previous day. I fancied a bit of rural luxury in some classic French B and B stuffed with freshly made croissants, jugs of coffee, sheep and cows floating outside in the morning mists and obscenely soft and enveloping beds. In the end I sat in the cafe next door to the car hire centre and booked a room in a hotel with good reviews just down the road. I had already checked it out on the Internet in the UK. And that was a good decision as it was a great hotel at £57 for two nights, excellent value even though I had to share a shower although had my own sink and toilet. The room was clean, the bed comfortable, and the location quiet although right in the city centre. It all looked freshly decorated and overall was excellent value. It would be churlish to criticise but although the shower was modern and spotlessly clean anybody with a circumference more than a stick insect would be bumping and banging against the sides and door, even the roof, especially when drying oneself. The danger here would be sending the door crashing open against the wall at an unearthly hour. But ten out of ten overall for value and comfort, well done Hotel de La Paix. Many recommendations!


The icing on the cake was the evening. It had been a poor day weather wise, grey and a little wet, but the evening was amenable to a stroll. You literally fall out of the hotel into the city centre where the usual large church sits at the centre of the main intersections, and to the north the massive ramparts of William the Conquerors castle fortification. It is all ramparts, gates and towers but the scale is worthy of a big city, dominating the town centre like an elderly matriarch. I wandered the site checking the helpful signage relaying the history. It's a good spot for snaps as it occupies the high ground giving you a good city panorama.



Later I sauntered through the old town as you do looking for a good photo, and was just about to snap a street-shot when a young guy hailed me. He suggested I take the photo of a particular street to get the right light effects. He seemed friendly enough and then I asked him about restaurants and he invited me to join him and his friends as they were heading for a good one. An unusual invite but soon I was chatting to a group of four, two guys and two girls as we headed towards gastronomic heaven in Caen. What a nice way to end the day, the guy who had first engaged me taught children to swim for a living and was also a surfing dude, one of the girls had just returned from Sardinia, the other girl was apparently on holiday and I'm not quite sure what the other guy was doing as there was a certain amount of mirth around the discussion. I felt honoured to be invited like this by total strangers. This would just not happen in the UK!

We found the restaurant, The 'Verandah,' but unfortunately it was booked up so we had to make do with an ordinary pizzeria type place. No worries, it was just great to have some friendly company. Afterwards they invited me for a drink and we hit a bar filled with a fairly, but not very young clientele. Whilst there I was accosted by quite a merry Frenchman who asked me if I was German and then proceeded to tell me about his great experience in London on the music scene.

As I only had the car for two days my rough plan was to take the car down the coast for the first day as far as possible to cover as many of the D day beaches as I could. The guys I dined with recommended that I head up to the coast, don't worry so much about the eastern end of the beaches but get to Arromanche and then perhaps to Omaha Beach, this is the interesting area.

Parking in the middle of Caen is free overnight by the way and there are numerous spaces. I deposited my car fairly late both nights I was there and you are ok until 9.30am in the morning when you have to start paying on the meter. So that prompts a not too late getaway. That first morning I headed for Sword Beach at Luc sur Mere and then basically headed west with the odd retracing of my steps. I stopped off at Douvres La Deliverande, a very pleasant small town/large village for a coffee and croissant breakfast. The car park was free in the centre. This is one thing I am warming to in France, it is easy to park in built up areas and there are plenty of parking spaces, although admittedly it's not Paris.

A car in this area gives you great flexibility and you can just fly around from one monument, battlefield or museum to another so easily as everything is very accessible on good roads and relatively well signposted. I would very much recommend it. The weather was great and you can combine a bucket and spade holiday in a lovely area with oodles of history to lap up.




Berniere sur mere, a little further west from Luc sir Mere was the scene of one of the most iconic images of D day where the Canadians came to shore at Juno Beach and experienced heavy losses. The house that stood on that shore (La Maison des Canadiens, Place du 6 Juin) was in those photographic images and is now given over as a memorial to the 6th June 1944. A guy in the garden with a glass of wine and a book invited me in and took me on a quick tour. He was like a caretaker and guardian of the site and was full of stories about the history of the house and what happened on D day. There is a bit of a museum in there with some mementoes, the odd soldiers uniform and other artefacts.

He pointed along the shore to the German battery which I had missed. They designed the batteries to strafe along the shore rather than straight out to sea, so that protection was given by the concrete on the seaward side against incoming fire. This would give the Germans a wide tranche of incoming soldiers to aim at. The guy told me about a German sniper who was caught by a Canadian and offered him money to save his life. This Canadian in his old age had come back to France years later and visited the house, but when asked what happened to the sniper in the end did not answer. Snipers are high value captives or targets so you can imagine what happened to him.

This area now is a prime seaside spot, and of course it was before the Germans came when rich Parisians came and built their villas and gardens on the coast. The coast is now given over to tourism and the beaches are great, beautiful golden sand and a tide that goes way out. A nice place to come apart from the history. In Courseulles-sur-mer is the Canadian museum for Juno Beach, well worth a visit. Courseulles is a pretty little port with the usual smattering of bars, cafes and restaurants, and also has an attractive marina. Beware however the swing bridges which can open at the most inconvenient time to allow the marine traffic through. This does not stop the through motor traffic, but if you are hot footing around between the town and the museum on foot may face a bit of a delay. The very moment I decided to leave my cafe after lunch and cross the bridge virtually the whole marina decided to go out to sea to fish or whatever, and we had to wait for a long line of boats to leave.

The Juno Beach museum (7 euro entry) is just over the bridge from the town centre, dedicated to the Canadian contribution to the Normandy landings. It is a modern building looking out to sea which you can't miss, standing in an open space which is sprinkled with pieces of old military hardware,  characteristic of this area. The museum trail starts with a short film, then you head into the museum proper, which is a much more comprehensive coverage of Canadian history of the time leading up  to the war, the large scale immigration of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the history of the Great Depression and how it affected Canada. In fact a full social and economic history followed by preparation for war. Plenty of time is needed to do the museum justice, I would say you need a good couple of hours. The museum trail finishes with another film.

The Canadians on landing in Normandy were given the job of sweeping up the coast of France East/North East to clear the channel ports, and they ended up liberating the Netherlands which was quite a feat given the watery nature of terrain. There is consequently quite a bond between Canada and the Netherlands and a sizeable group of Dutch have emigrated to Canada anyway. It was near this spot where the Canadians landed after the Normandy invasion that General De Gaulle set foot on French soil again. Also both the King and Winston Churchill alighted here after D Day.

Next stop Arromanche!  Up to now the coastline is pretty flat and uneventful, but as you leave Courseulle and head west the roads wind through more undulating territory, until, high above the town of Arromanche, and just before you enter it, you get to a terrific viewing point looking out over the cliffs and out to sea to what remains of the famous Mulberry Harbour. I counted 35 concrete blocks of different size out to sea arranged in a huge semi circle around the harbour. This harbour was called Winston Harbour as the then prime minister had a big say in the idea. Because the allies did not have a captured deep water port at the time they built this massive harbour, constructed in sections in the UK to act as an artificial deep water port for bringing in men, vehicles, supplies and munitions on a massive scale, using artificial roadways from the harbour to shore. A massive storm soon after D day destroyed the harbour at Omaha Beach for the Americans, but the Arromanche harbour survived the storm and played a huge role in the supply operation.

Today there is a car park here with a viewing platform to survey the harbour. There is also a section of the old artificial harbour roadway displayed, as well as a panoramic 360 degree D day 'experience' with associated shop. You can wander to the cliff edge and along the coastal path to admire the views as well, and there was a welcome mobile snack bar by the car park selling ice creams. Unsurprisingly it was a busy spot.






Down in the town a little further on there is a museum right on the sea front with items of military hardware displayed outside and around the seafront square which is also a car park. The beach is very fine, with bits of the old Mulberry harbour embedded in the nearshore as a reminder, the town being an attractive place for a sea side holiday in its own right. It was busy, obviously a popular tourist spot.

I mustn't forget Longue sur mer where the Germans had a set of massive guns arrayed in a line on a grassy stretch a little distance from the coastline and pointing out to sea. There four huge emplacements, each one having a long, meaty, bronze coloured barrel protruding from a huge protective shell behind which you can see the remains of the gun furniture. A large protective dome of concrete covers each emplacement, and it is possible to walk onto the top of them as I did. There is a car park there and also an old Russian cannon is displayed supposed to have been used by the Germans in WW2. The battery is located off the main route near a sleepy little French hamlet.



Pushing on a fair bit further west, eventually you get to Omaha, where  the Americans took severe punishment at D Day. By the time I got here it was around 9pm, too late for the American cemetery which is supposed to be a very worthwhile visit but closes at 6pm. I shall hopefully return another time. There is also a museum nearby. However you can easily get to the beach even at 9pm at night, and as dusk approached I was able to park up on the sea front and witness the memorial to Omaha where 2400 American casualties were suffered on D Day. Here the flags of the allies are lined up along the beach atop of their white poles, and a very modern memorial of silver steel shapes has been constructed on the beach front. Here you can walk along the promenade and ponder the terrible price that was paid on this lovely summer beach 70 years ago. Again the area is now devoted to tourism.



I took the dual carriageway home to Caen that evening, a journey which seemed to take quite a while indicating I had gone a fair way along the coast. In fact the next day when I returned the car I had done nearly 200km. It was a smooth drive back to Caen but unfortunately not being use to the French road signs I took the wrong turn as I left the motorway and had to do a big circuit to come back into Caen. Never mind! My sense of direction worked fairly well.

Next day I return to England so mustn't strike out too far. I decide to see the eastern beach i.e. Sword beach and do a museum, in this case the German bunker at Oustreheim (Le Grand Bunker Musee du Mur de L'Atlantique, entry 7.50 euro) looks a good bet, having been a rather obstreperous barrier to the British advance for a while and promising to be an interesting collection of artefacts. So off I went to Oustreheim, then up the coast to check the memorials at Hermanville sur mere, bang in the middle of Sword beach, which was the responsibility of British forces. It was a baking hot day, one to slap on the sun tan lotion, the beach was filling up but I had to

 keep up with the schedule.



The British and commonwealth military cemetery is here in this little resort. Just off the main road along the coast as you head west, you take a left turn and head a little way inland to a lovely village centre with an old church on the right. I had to ask the way as I took one or two wrong turns and ended up in residential cul de sacs! Anyway once you get to the village centre you take a left to get to the cemetery which lies in a peaceful and well tended plot away from the settlement. It has about 1000 graves and it is well worth spending time walking past the gravestones and reading the messages. Extremely worthwhile to ponder the sacrifice of so many in such a lovely spot. Also in the village and on the main road is a well which was used to refresh the invasion forces.

Headed in to Ousterheim a bit later and spent about an hour at the Atlantic bunker museum (Le Grande Bunker du Mur de L'Atlantique, entry 7.50 euro). This was a real German stronghold on D day, a centre of communications for the Germans hidden amongst the surrounding residential property. There is so much to see here, with various items of military hardware outside and a treasure trove of World War Two artefacts inside. To be honest, you need more than and hour to do it justice. Some of the original machinery, fittings and signage is still here, and there are some tremendous life size models of how it used to look, such as the bunk room, communications centres, armaments store and surgical areas. You see how amazingly well equipped such an important bunker was with medical supplies, etc. The bigger bunkers had the  capacity to carry out surgical operations. There are several floors, and you gradually make your way to the top where a range finder room has large slits looking out over the harbour, beach, estuary and present ferry terminal.

Just about got the car back to Caen in time and rushed for the bus which leaves from outside the front of the station. But there was plenty of time at the ferry terminal for a sandwich and a beer before embarking for Blighty. Being a superb afternoon it was eminently sensible to sunbathe on the upper deck as we admired the receding French coast with its fine sandy beaches. Entertainment was provided on the ferry with live televising of the Andy Murray/Rodger Federer tennis semi final although the result was disappointing unless you are one of the 'Feds' who believe that Roger is the perfect God given tennis player who epitomises the beautiful game.

Portsmouth is an impressive entrance to the UK, and going out or coming back a great photo opportunity with the Isle of White and the indented Solent harbour with great views of the Portsmouth waterfront, the naval dockyards and what's left of Britain's Royal Navy. All part of the holiday!