Beautiful blue sky day today, which had me walking to and from the cinema to see 12 Rounds. The lack of clouds got me thinking about them, and in particular about a teacher at school.

Mr Dail was my class teacher at primary school in 1984/85. He was an American ex-pat who was a rather unconventional teacher. To me, as a 9 year old, he seemed like an older guy, but I doubt if he was any more than his late 40s. Mr Dail didn’t stick to the standard syllabus for a class of 9 year olds. Amongst other things, he taught us the names of cloud formations, introduced us to slow worms, showed us how to make butter, brought his beautiful rough collies, Ola and Tubby, into class and let us walk them on the school field (a reward for finishing work), and, perhaps most interesting of all, gave out US Air Force rank pins for academic achievement. Where he got this ready supply from, I don’t know, but I was immensely proud when I was awarded a Staff Sergeant pin with 4 stripes. Only a few students in the class had a rank this high, so I was really very pleased with myself, in the way only a nerdy little kid can be.

One day in early summer, as we were heading back to class after a PE lesson, one of my classmates tripped on a slightly raised paving stone. Down she went, and it was immediately obvious that she’d broken her arm. Whilst an ambulance was called for her, the rest of us were herded into class. The following week she returned with her arm in a cast, and Mr Dail made a big show of awarding her with a 6 stripe Master Sergeant pin for bravery. I remember being immensely jealous at the time, thinking to myself that I’d studied really hard to get my Staff Sergeant pin, and all she’d done was break her arm.

I still have my Staff Sergeant pin knocking around somewhere, boxed up with a load of stuff in the loft, if I remember right. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but I’m tempted to go looking for it.

Tales of horror relating to travel can be quite common. Some are worse than others, but most go along the lines of airport delays, lost luggage, or hellish hotels. I’ve had more than my fair share of travel woes, and some of them are pretty high up there on the list of awful experiences.

Back in 1995, whilst at University, I played a lot on a particular online game, a text based Multi User Dungeon. The servers and staff were based in Germany, and a large majority of the players were German, but it was an English language MUD. The staff decided a meet up would be a really cool idea, and so set a date in October for a weekend get together in Cologne. I decided to go, and booked a train ticket to take me there via the Channel Tunnel - Cardiff to London, London to Brussels, Brussels to Cologne. I was invited to stay with one of the MUD staffers, a guy called Frank. He would meet me at the local S-Bahn train station when my train got in at around 8pm. Things are never that easy though, right?

I got to Brussels fine. I even had time to get something to eat before my connecting train to Cologne. The train to Cologne itself, though - that was a different story. There were massive delays en route. Just after passing through Aachen, the train stopped. And waited. And waited. By the time I finally got to Cologne, it was 11pm. Problem was, I didn’t have Frank’s phone number. I just had to hope that he was still at the S-Bahn station. No such luck. I got there, and the place was absolutely deserted. No staff, no other passengers. Large car park, completely empty. Close to midnight.

I studied German up to the age of 14. The only sentence I fluently remembered was, ‘Wie komme ich am besten zum Bahnhof, bitte?’ Given I was already AT the train station, not particularly helpful! Only one thing I could do - I went to the nearest payphone and dialled 112, emergency services. The operator answered, and I crossed my fingers and said, ‘Do you speak English?’ Someone up there must have figured I needed a break, because thankfully, she did. I explained what had happened, and ten minutes later a police car turned up to take me to Frank’s house. I wished I did speak German, because the police officers gave him a very stern talking to when he answered the door!

The BBC News website has published a selection of photos as a year in review that makes for depressing viewing. Of the 17 pictures posted there, 13 of them are about bad news - violence in Kenya and the DR Congo, Amazonian land disputes, natural disasters, wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and Georgia, protests in the West Bank, food shortages and contamination, and the credit crunch. Three of the four remaining pictures are about the US presidential election, and the only high point is a photo from the Olympics. Even now, the front page of the BBC News website is dominated with news on the Israeli attacks on Gaza, and more doom and gloom related to the credit crunch.

I know that they say, ‘No news is good news’, which could also loosely be re-interpreted as ‘any news is bad news’, but this is ridiculous. We look back now at the 20th century and shake our heads sadly about things like the atrocities of the two World Wars, the Cold War, the Depression, AIDS, and the development of nuclear weapons, but there were also great things; like advances in science, technology and medicine, the space race and moon landings, and the development and expansion of telecommunications. What about the 21st century? Iraq. Afghanistan. SARS. MRSA. Global warming. Economy down turn. 9/11 and terrorism. Obesity. Poverty and disproportionate wealth. Multi-million divorce settlements.

When I try to think of the most memorable events in my lifespan - in my memory - the first one that springs to mind, possibly because it’s the biggest and most recent, is 9/11. Before that, the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, and the incessant, ridiculous, ceaseless controversy and conspiracy theories. Sure, I also remember things like the Berlin Wall coming down, the development of the world wide web, and strides in medicine and genetics, but they pale in comparison to recent events. At this rate, it’s not going to be the 20th century that people look back on with head shaking and regret. It’ll be the 21st.

How good is your perception of colour? Can you easily discriminate between and order hues? Test yourself here - http://www.xrite.com/custom_page.aspx?PageID=77.

The lower your score, the better, with 0 being a perfect eye for hues and shades, and around 1000 being the default (unordered) score. My best score was 12, with a few errors in the purple-blue spectrum.

I had a City Council Pest Control guy round yesterday to sort out a wasps nest I’d discovered in the electricity meter cupboard on the side of my house. He took a look at it in the corner of the meter cupboard, listened as I said they were entering underneath it, and said, “Oh yes, what you can see there is just the tip of it. I’d say that the total size is about… this big,” he gestured with his hands a span of about 4 feet. “It’ll be in the wall cavity to the left of the cupboard.”

THERE WERE WASPS IN MY WALL CAVITY. No amount of exclamatory punctuation can even come close to expressing my horror.

I shuddered back into the house and he got out his beekeeper’s protective clothing and powder poison canister and nozzle, and set to work. I watched from the (firmly closed) upstairs side window as a load of white coated wasps flew away. He also pulled down the visible part of the nest, told me that any wasps currently out foraging would return soon and get the poison on them too, and took a £48 cheque off me.

I didn’t go near the cupboard until this morning. Sure enough, the visible part of the nest is in pieces, and there’s a hole in the wooden backboard of the cabinet that the wasps must have eaten their way through to get into the wall cavity.

The pest control guy expressed his surprise that I haven’t seen any wasps in the house. I reckon they’re hiding in the loft. I’m never going up there again.

My youngest sister, Jude, got married on Saturday to her fiancé Liam. I think she looked gorgeous.
 


 
The wedding service was at St Chad’s in Hopwas, a small but beautiful little church in a village just outside of Tamworth. Yes, I did shed a tear or two. Thankfully, I was sat next to Mum, who was worse than me and had come armed with a ready supply of tissues.

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We tendered off the coast of the sunny island of Santorini early in the morning, and Nan and I waited until a little later in the morning before catching the shuttle boat to avoid a queue. As it turned out, we had to contend with a queue anyway on the island to catch a cable car. Santorini is basically a town nestled way on top of a cliff. There are three options to reach it - by donkey, by cable car, or by walking up 645 steps. I would have liked to try the donkey one way, but it was the cable car that we settled on.

In the queue, I paused to take a picture of a house built into the side of a cliff, only to realise that I’d left the memory card back on the ship. I kept my fingers crossed that I’d find a place that sold memory cards in the town - thankfully, I did. Overpriced, to be sure, but I didn’t want to miss any photo opportunities.

Santorini is stunningly beautiful. Like Mykonos, the houses are all whitewashed, with touches of blue here and there. There’s a church on every corner, or so it seems. Also like Mykonos, unfortunately, the streets are packed full of tourist shops. I understand that the islands must make their money through tourism, but I bet it would have been lovely to see the island before it became a tourist attraction.

Back on the ship, Damien had arranged for us to visit the wheelhouse (bridge) as we left Santorini. Marianna met Nan and I, and took us through the crew areas to reach the (very well) secured door. My first thought on entering was, “Where’s the wheel?”. Everything is computerised now, and instead of a wheel they have rows of electronic consoles with masses of digital readouts, switches, handles and toggles. The whole front and side walls of the bridge are windows, so we had a fantastic view as we pulled away. Because we were tendered, there was no port to pull out of, so we just turned out and cruised past little islands dotted here and there. On either side of the bridge, there are two square rubber mats which, when pushed away, reveal clear windows that give you a view right down to the sea. Yes, I stood on one.

We’d been there for around 15 minutes when the door opened and another group of people were led through. They were the Captain’s Club guests, passengers who’ve cruised with Celebrity over 10 (I think) times. All of them seemed to be extremely knowledgeable about sailing, and some of them apparently owned their own boats. A senior member of bridge staff was explaining all about the ship, and answering various questions. I noticed a pull cord on the wall, with the label ‘Man Overboard’ on it, and just had to ask what happened if someone went overboard. The bridge officer said that it took about a mile for the boat to stop. He also said that, dependent upon where the unlucky person fell from, they may not be alive to rescue. A fall from the 12th floor, for example, would almost certainly kill a person. I made a mental resolution not to fall over the rail of our 10th floor veranda! All ships also carry out rescue missions, if necessary. We were told that last year, they had rescued a tiny little boat full of immigrants who were illegally attempting to reach American soil. The boat was close to capsizing, so they plucked the immigrants out to safety. Unfortunately for the poor guys, they were sent back to their home country - they were only 25 miles away from America.

We dressed for dinner, and headed out to see the show, a violinist. He was very good, but I have to admit that I’m not generally a fan of the violin. To each their own, etc. Dinner was as ever, delicious. Our waiters continue to do a fantastic job. Having asked for a pineapple juice after my orange juice last night, the assistant waiter brought me both. They are wonderful.

Next on our journey is a day at sea - another chance to relax.

Rhodes turned out to be something of a non-starter for us. We woke up late, and Nan wasn’t feeling too well, so we decided to take it easy instead. Both of us booked treatments at the AquaSpa; a hair appointment for Nan, and an Aromastonetherapy full massage for me.

I spent the morning on the veranda and the pool deck, soaking up some sun and taking it easy before heading over to the spa for 2pm. I’ve never had a professional massage before, so I have to admit I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. It was bliss. For over an hour I got kneaded, and it was fantastic. The stones are hot on first contact with the skin, but not uncomfortably so after the initial shock. The only thing I didn’t like about the massage was the greasy-feeling residue from the gel or lotion that was used. I showered that off when I got back to the cabin. Is that something you’re not supposed to do? There’s another sea day before the end of the cruise, so I may well take advantage of it to have another treatment, or get my hair done or something.

The evening entertainment was an excellent pianist called Tommy Bond. He was really energetic and took us on a tour of musical genres. The bingo afterwards still hasn’t yielded any luck for Nan or I. The $1000 dollar prizes are still a nightly thing, but so far, nowt.

Dinner was a light affair for Nan in hopes of settling her stomach. So far (touch wood) I’m ok, so on the menu this evening for me was:

Herb pancake with ratatouille
Sweet corn soup with chorizo
Entrecote steak with baked potato
Chocolate cigar with oranges

Tomorrow we’re tendering at Santorini. The pictures I’ve seen of the island look fantastic, so that should be an excellent camera opportunity.

By the time (the hideously early) morning came round, we’d left behind the choppy seas of the Dodecanese, and were pulling into Kusadasi in Turkey. The last time I visited Kusadasi was on the second week of a 2-week holiday with my brother Chris 11 years ago. We spent the first week in the Bodrum area, then moved north to do Ephesus and Pamukkale. I had fond memories of both, and was looking forward to the all-day trip.

Nan and I were down in the Theatre for 7am, and didn’t have long to wait until we were called for our coach. The itinerary for the day was trips to Ephesus, Magnesia, Miletos and Didyma, all sites of ancient Greek/Roman cities. Our guide was Elif, an art teacher in the winter and a tour guide in summer. She was absolutely passionate about ancient Turkish history, and extremely knowledgable - we got lucky to have her.

Ephesus was just as wonderful as I remembered. The guide Chris and I had when we went must not have been too good - I have very few memories of him. Elif, on the other hand, was a mine of information, with stories of the architects, builders, funding for buildings, and lots of other things. The tour of the city was the longest of the 4 sites we visited, and getting it out of the way first before the sun got too hot was good. By the time we left at around 10am, we were already sweating and glad of the air conditioned bus.

Magnesia and Miletos were smaller stops. A lot of Magnesia is still buried, under water, or under excavation, so there isn’t a lot to see. Miletos was memorable for its excellent theatre. It’s not as big as the one in Ephesus, but in my opinion it’s better. The tunnels are still in tact, there is a sacrificial altar still in place, and there are some excellent carvings. Nan and I were both flagging by the time we reached Miletos, and she sat down on a large stone near the entrance of the site whilst I went and explored the theatre.

Lunch was at a family owned restaurant overlooking the Temple of Apollo at Didyma - extremely filling and delicious, but I declined the fish, which was still whole and boned. I can’t eat anything that’s still looking at me!

Nan chose to stay on the bus at Didyma. I got off, but stayed at the top of the steps and took a couple of pictures in the shade whilst the guide and the rest of the party went down into the ruins.

Our final stop on the tour was at a carpet weavers, were we learnt about the fine art of Turkish carpet making. It was actually really interesting, and the quality of some of the carpets, as well as the time that went into creating them, was amazing. Avoiding the sales pitch at the end, Nan and I wandered through the bazaar, where a shop owner tried to charge us £55 for a sweater that would cost about £30 at home. I think it’s terrible the way people try to rip you off.

A shower was most definitely a priority on our return to the ship, as well as recovery time. I’d burnt my feet, and now have lovely white sandal-strap marks across my otherwise red feet.

The evening entertainment was a huge Mediterranean buffet and party on deck 11. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing up something awful. Nan got cold and went downstairs, and I stuck around for a while longer before disappearing below too. The day really wore us both out, and I think we needed the rest!

Tomorrow is Rhodes, but we don’t have a tour planned. We’ll be playing it by ear.