A Holiday in England - Flights, Motors and Scilly

As the project had ended an extended trip to the UK was in order.  Having sacrificed an earlier opportunity to go on leave to the UK on the alter of the good of the project, I had negotiated in return an extended leave.  Usually, the standard 2 weeks isn't really enough to do anywhere near all the things you'd like to do, or have to do.  I was hoping an extended leave of double that time would allow me to do most,  if not all that I wanted to do.

First on the list was to meet up with friends I hadn't seen for some time.  Ideally, it would have been better for me if those friends were to come and visit me, rather than me having to travel the length and breadth of the country to visit them, but as I don't have a place to call my own (so to speak), and understanding that my friends have jobs and commitments then it was me that was going to doing the leg work.

In fact I didn't mind this.  I was actually looking forward to doing it and the idea of travelling extensively throughout the length and breadth of England during the summer months was highly appealing and something to look forward to.

The Glorious Kent Countryside

However, in order to make this happen I had to have some wheels.  Yes, I could have rented a car but the cost of renting something reasonable, comfortable and capable would have been a considerable lump of money and at the end of the holiday all I'd have to show for it was a rather large credit card bill.  Hence I had planned to buy a car and the reason was two-fold: apart from the aforementioned cost the second reason being I needed to acquire some no-claims discount.  Why?  Because when I do eventually return to the UK (hopefully in the not too distant future) I don't want the kind of car that I buy to be dictated by the cost of the insurance.  For this reason I also discounted the idea of borrowing a car from the kind offers that I'd received.

In an ideal world I'd step off the plane and into a waiting car that had been pre-purchased before my arrival but the ideal world is actually a different planet so that wasn't going to happen.

Several months before my due leave date I spent time trawling through the Autotrader and eBay going through the bitter-sweet process of choosing a vehicle, which ultimately bounced between the highly sensible, the practical and the downright reckless.  In the sensible range there was the Ford Focus.  Practical - Audi Estate.  Reckless - too many great choices but I kept swinging between a Porsche 993, AC Cobra kit car (with the Chevy 6 litre engine), Audi A8, Mercedes 300SE (which I really, really want) or any Alfa Romero.

And speaking of reckless I even considered buying on-line without actually having seen the vehicle but I resisted this as I knew there was high possibility it would end in tears.  The problem was though, I know just how time consuming buying a car can be and I didn't want looking for a car to dominate the time I had available to me.  So I reckoned that if I spent enough time researching what was available and the market rate I'd be able to earmark something in advance and nab it fairly quickly.  Within a week is what I had in mind . . . . .

My flight involved a domestic flight from Iloilo to Manila, then Manila to Doha and then onto Gatwick.  Primarily due to the amount of acquired kit I was lugging back to the UK, and partly because I'm going soft in my old age, I was flying business class.  The (Philippine Airlines) business class lounge in the Iloilo terminal was a disgrace.  I can understand that in a poor country the facilities maybe aren't so extensive or good but what I can't come to terms with or accept is them being filthy dirty.  It doesn't cost very much, especially in a place where labour is incredibly cheap, to keep a place clean.  The chairs and sofas were grubby and stained.  Behind the sofa there were mouse or lizard droppings that clearly, judging by the amount of dust there was, had been accumulating for some time.  Okay, so out of sight is out of mind but in one of the roller blinds there was a dead gecko for all to see but no one had bothered to remove it, despite the fact that the size of it would've made raising and lowering the blind rather difficult.  Yuk: I was glad to get out of there.  Even in Manila the lounge wasn't great either.

Slumming It In Business Class

When I arrived in Doha and went through transfer I was asked if I'd booked a hotel?  Why?  The transfer was only 3 hours.  Oh no it wasn't, it had been rescheduled and it was 10 hours after arrival.  To be fair, when I'd rebooked the flight there was a vague notification of the change but I missed it.  Not to worry, if you've ever been to the premium lounge in Doha, having to spend 10 hours there is a blessing rather than an ordeal.  However, as it was ramadan there was no free booze available, which was a bit of blow.  Still, there was lots of great food, coffee and after a shower I felt almost human and ready for the next leg of the journey.

It was an interesting flight out of Doha.  Passing up the west coast of the Arabian Gulf I could clearly see Kuwait City, the Iraq Central Marshes, Baghdad, then following the Tigris River to Mosul and the Mosul dam, the Iraq/Turkey border and then across the Black Sea (which was surprisingly large) and into Europe, which was lost in the clouds.

Down Town Baghdad

Back in England I made immediate plans to acquire a motor.  I had a look at an Alfa 166.  Nice but it didn't quite hit the spot.  An Audi A4 Estate 2.8 - very nice but no history.  Not even a log book.  And whilst it was rapid enough there was a strange over-heating, burning oil smell about it and my gut feeling was to give it a wide berth.  Having bought a dodgy BMW 323 a few years ago I've learnt to trust my instincts and not my let my heart rule my head.  I had a look at another Alfa, which was tatty and a clean Alfa is trouble so one that hasn't been not looked after is going to be heaps of hassle.

I was starting to panic as I could see this was going to take potentially longer than I had hoped and I had to control my anxiety to stop myself from rushing out and making a bad buy.  Then I was trawling though the Autotrader and just through boredom/desperation I had a look at the Volvos, which is a car I really hadn't considered at all (in the past I'd had an old 144 and an S40 and wasn't impressed with either).  There were two S80s that caught my eye.  Big, comfortable cruisers that could chew up the miles, with a 2.4 petrol engine with the right blend of performance and economy (this was the sensible coming out in me!).  I went to have a look at the one nearest to my house, which was being sold by a Chris Moyles lookalike dealer operating out of his living room .  The car was a one (company) owner, leather upholstery, cruise control, central locking, alarm, all the air-bags you could ask for (in the event of an accident I imagine it would be like falling into a swimming pool filled with pillows), full service history and all the toys.  And lovely to drive and so it was a deal (and a steal at £1500).

An Old Man with his Old Man's Car

Having made myself mobile the first plan was to head to the Isle of Scilly.  On the way I stopped off to visit my mate Gary in Haywards Heath.  A somewhat difficult situation as he had recently split with his wife and was going through a divorce.  I was going to say an acrimonious divorce but then is there any other kind?  Over the years I've felt as though I've become part of the family, having known my mate since we met in the Falklands in 1985 and having remained firm friends ever since.  More recently I'd spent so much time living with them when my house was rented and I'd had nowhere else to stay during visits to the UK (something I'm immensely grateful for), that I'd practically become part of the furniture. My first stop was to visit the wife and kids in the estranged family home.

Thereafter it was to stop over with Gary with a couple of drinking sessions and a day trip to Brighton.  However, what became apparent was in these situations you are constantly being manoeuvred to take sides and nail your colours to the mast as there's no room for being neutral, try as hard as you might.  None of this was really a problem for me and I'm always happy to lend a listening ear but I did find myself at times thinking that both of them actually want the same thing, but can't agree to or find any middle ground and so the whole process descends into one of blind, bitter self destruction, which is incredibly sad.  Not withstanding this, I still enjoyed my time in sunny Haywards Heath.

On Brighton Beach

Driving down to Cornwall to catch the ferry to Scilly I was convinced the car would breakdown as it seemed too good to be true, but it behaved and performed impeccably. The plan was to stay overnight in Penzance and then take the ferry to St. Mary's in the morning so my first priority was to find a B&B for the night.  As I pulled into Penzance and passed the harbour where the ferry departs, right opposite there was the Dolphin Inn, made from Cornish granite and with a Room Available notice hanging up in the window.  Being perfectly placed for the ferry I phoned from the car to enquire if there was still a vacancy.  There was and the bidding started at £75 for the night.

The Dolphin Inn, Penzance

"Phew, that's a bit expensive I said".

"It includes breakfast for the two of you", the man on the other end said.

"But there's only me", I retorted and the chap said "All right, you can have it for £60".

"Can't you do better than that", I asked?  "Cor blimey, I'm trying to make a living here", he said, ". . . . okay, £50 then".  

Perfect.  I quickly dumped my bags in the room and went and parked the car in the (rip-off) long-term car park and hoofed it back to the Dolphin, walking along the wonderful Penzance promenade. Huge colourful flags had been erected which looked vivid in the evening sun.  The lido pool on the seafront adjacent to the harbour had been renovated to it's former glory and also adorned with the large colourful flags.  Before dinner I had a wander around the town, which is quite picturesque although at the end of town where the railway station is it is rather more run down with its kebab and mobile phone shops.

Penzance Promenade

I had dinner in the Dolphin, which I wouldn't have done if the room price had been £75, and I had quite a few beers too so I suppose they made their money from me in the bar rather than in the room rate.  I imagined the room was going to be overwhelmingly chintzy but it was modern but without being out of character with the pub and the building.  It had rattly, draughty sliding sash windows so that made me feel like I was at home in Lenham.  The only real drawback was that the toilet had a built-in macerator that fired up automatically when the toilet was flushed and which sounded like a train passing through the bathroom.  If this wasn't bad enough, the sensor that triggered the unit was so sensitive that when I went for a widdle in the dead of night (too much beer) it triggered the macerator and the unexpected noise nearly made me soon snapped me back to sobriety.

Refurbished Lido Pool

Early the next morning I had breakfast in the bar and a wonderful breakfast it was too.  I couldn't decide between the full English or the kippers but decided on the kippers in keeping with the seaside theme.  Next it was the short walk to the Scillonion Ferry and onwards to the Scilly Isles to meet up with a Pete, a mate of mine who I'd known since our school days, and who lived a few houses up the road from where we lived as kids.  That was until he ran away and joined the Royal Navy (he didn't really run away but it sounds better).  We spent our childhood practically living in the park at that backed onto our road: fishing, swimming, boating on an upturned car roof on the lake, playing Tarzan on a rope swing of inadequate rope thickness, making Dutch arrows, cycling on bikes with must-have cow horn handle bars, tearing around on Vespa scooter of a questionable source and crawling through half constructed sewers.  I'm sure there's a PSP or Wii game for all those activities these days.  

Mackerel Fishing

I was met off the ferry by Pete and we went and dropped my things off at his house in the centre of St. Mary's.  The next few days were ones of fishing, checking and baiting lobster pots, walks around the island, visiting different pubs, eating freshly caught seafood and sailing on Pete's yacht (to another pub on another island).  I just thought that was such a wonderful thing to be able to do: sail from one island to the other, jump in a dingy and row ashore to visit the pub, have a meal of peanuts (too late for the restaurant by 1 minute - how very British), row back to the yacht to open a bottle of wine (or was it two?), have a whizz over the side without falling into the freezing water and then sail back in the morning in time for Pete to open his souvenir/gift shop.  Brilliant.  I had an absolutely fantastic time and was reluctant to leave but leave I had to, and I did so with a cloudy mind having been coerced the night before into sharing a bottle of port on top of several beers and a considerable quantity of wine (something I seem no longer capable of doing with any resilience these days).  But what a great send off.

What shall we do with a drunken sailor, indeed?

Freshly Caught, Freshly Cooked Lunch

Scilly Houses