Busy Weekend

Glad my head and tummy have finally recovered from the side effects of the Pamidronate. Still not feeling 100%, but it is early in the day yet.

Am off to Vancouver for the last of the Maiwa symposium events tonight. Back on the Coast early tomorrow as I have to prepare to speak at a breast cancer event in Madeira Park on Sunday night. Not entirely certain what I'll be saying. Have been asked to talk about my personal experience with the disease, so am thinking of something along the lines of "Living with Breast Cancer: The ugly, the bad, the good, and the downright funny." Will report re the number of tomatoes flung in my direction.

Last CT scan results

See I forgot to post anything about the CT scan I had before departing for points abroad.

I continue to be a rather boring patient. Nothing exciting to report. No drama in the offing. Rather, the majority of lesions are behaving nicely and keeping to their pre-study size and shape. One particularly annoying lesion, the one on my trachea is, however, getting smaller - which explains why I don't wheeze as much as I did a few months ago.

Couldn't have hoped for a better report, all things considered!!

Rattlin' Bones

One might think that I have been sitting around doing little of anything this past while. Wrong! In an upcoming post I'll dish on my most recent trip - to Paris and Barcelona. But first, an update re my ever-changing medical situation.

Regular readers of this post will no doubt remember how I hobbled around the UK with a broken foot. Which I didn't know was broken. When I returned home, a routine bone scan revealed that I had a stress fracture. Experts in the field concluded that earlier chemo and radiation treatments had severely reduced my bone density thus bringing on a sudden (to me at least) osteoporosis. To date, I have that one stress fracture in my right foot, a possible second one in my left (note to self: do NOT run for the ferry), a compression fracture of the T10 vertebrae, well-developed osteoporosis in the L1-4 vertebra, and osteoporina(?) in my left hip.

The fact that I'm on a drug trial has meant that Dr J and Dr Wadge have had a lot of conversations with the Cancer Agency team to ensure whatever treatment I am given for osteoporosis does not interfere with the study medications. The decision was made to put me on Pamidronate, a drug that is administered once a month via IV. I can have this treatment at St Mary's in Sechelt, so no need for an extra trip to Vancouver.

I had my first Pamidronate treatment on Wednesday. The treatment itself was a painless affair, thanks in large part of a well-functioning port-a-cath. I was warned that I might experience some side effects such as fever and flu-like symptoms and, sure enough, they kicked in about two or three hours after the treatment ended. I stayed in bed until late Friday morning. Didn't feel really good until about 6pm Friday night.

I have no idea if I'll feel like that each time I have a treatment nor do I know if the side effects are cumulative. What I do know is that, in cancer patients, this drug is suppose to not only address the issue of osteoporosis, but actually rebuild the bone mass. A few days of extra sleep are worth enduring for that result, me thinks.

House of Horrors

No, I'm not talking about the upcoming Halloween celebrations. I'm talking about my wee house.

In August, Phil came out to play with Momzy and me - and to help paint my house. Well, we thought all he would be doing is painting the house. That is until Phil and Ellen started prepping the siding for the paint. Scraping revealed rot in a few boards, so those were removed. Unfortunately, when rotten boards were removed from the gable end of the house it was apparent that the builder had only applied house wrap in the centre of the structure. The material did not extend quite to the height of the soffit nor as low as the top of the foundation. Phil was amazed. As a devote follower of Mike Holmes, he set out to "make it right". Unfortunately for Phil that meant removing all of the siding from the gable end. And, hey, since he was at it, why not remove the dented and torn cheap metal soffit and replace it with some nice wood material? And so it was. Removing the old metal soffit also allowed Phil to improve the air circulation in the attic - the builder had extended the ceiling insulation to the soffit with little or no venting. Where venting did appear, it was little more than a narrow board propped against one of the ceiling joists (you might be able to make out the tiny V-shaped vent next to every other joist in the photo below)! Amazing that mould hasn't completely taken over and that the building has managed to stand for 30+ years.

I wasn't the best helper, but I did what I could to make things easier for Phil. I could only paint the lower parts, nothing above my shoulder, and I couldn't climb a ladder. Even so, it was nice to be able to contribute to the project. Oh yeah, and I made lunch and dinner and provided cold tasty beverages when required.

Two months and some days later, the "painting" job was finally finished. And am I pleased! The house never looked so good. I swear I have the nicest house on the block - inside and out - thanks to Phil's hard work.

I did change the main colour of the exterior (looks green, beige or grey depending on the light - compare above photo to one below), but since it has become known as "the house with the pink door", I opted to keep the front door a very similar colour. Easier for folks to find me.

Birthday Girls

In late Sept, Phil, Mom and I hoped the Amtrak and headed to Everett for a very special birthday celebration. Momzy turned 91, and the following day her dear friend of nearly 65 years turned 90.

Now, you have to understand that one of Edith's greatest pleasures in life is munching on ginger gem cookies made by Wheatberries, a popular coffee stop here on the Sunshine Coast. Well, some bright button (Penny? Roz?) got the idea of turning a pair of over-sized ginger gems into a wonderful cake for the event. The folks at Wheatberries were a bit hesitant at first, stating they couldn't be certain the large cookies would bake all the way through, etc. But they managed to make the cookies to perfection. Roz and her sister Jan moulded strawberry ice cream into a cookie-cream-centre shape, and the result was spectacular. Yours truly applied the icing greeting. I think I've found a new favourite cake!

The birthday girls certainly ate it up! And they washed it down with some of the wine we picked up in Kelowna.

Knit n' Sip Kelowna-Style

Tagged along with Roz and Penny on a trip to visit Penny's daughter, Nessa, in Kelowna. A much tamer journey than the originally planned self-appointed-bridesmaid's-tour of 2009, but just as fun.

Found some lovely dyed-in-Kelowna yarn (brand name is Mulberry Yarns) at Art of Yarn, a wool shop in town. On the way home, we also stopped in at Aurelia Wool and Weaving in Merritt - was so inspired by the colour range available, I'm seriously thinking of giving spinning another go. Each evening of our stay at Nessa's, Roz, Pen and I spun or knit as we watched bizarre TV programs (is that redundant? Bizarre? TV shows?). I started working on a large-gauge wool floor mat that I plan to use next to my bed whenever I get around to having the wall-to-wall carpet pulled up and cork flooring laid down. Sorry I don't have a photo, but imagine a creamy-slightly-off-white yarn about twice the thickness of lopi. I placed two eight-stitch cables along one side and left the rest of the piece as a field of reverse stockinette. The knitted cables play off the purled background very nicely, me thinks. The finished piece currently measures about 30" x 4'. Of course, I haven't fulled or backed it yet. All in good time.

Of course no visit to Kelowna would be complete with a visit to a winery or two. Swirled, sniffed, spat, and sipped our way through the various offerings at St. Hubertus, Cedar Creek, Mt. Boucherie, and the picturesque Mission Hill.

Turns out we weren't the only ones enjoying a visit to the wineries!

Ventured north toward Vernon, and also partook of the offerings of Gray Monk, Ex Nihilio, and Arrowleaf Cellars. The wineries weren't the real reason for traveling that far north, however. Penny is a very new beekeeper and was eager to see how the bees do it at Planet Bee. A sweet visit, that.

All I can say about the above photo is that it never ceases to amaze me what friends will do for my amusement!


We also made a stop at the local opal mine's shop. A very interesting experience. Who knew we had an opal mine here in BC? Also took time to stroll around a scent-filled lavender and herb garden, and to visit the local farmer's market. All good fun.

Was especially pleased that my dear friend Betsy managed to find time in her busy schedule for a brief but enjoyable visit.

Good fun all 'round.

Bus Tour Around the UK

Here, at long last, is the final installment of my travel tales from the recent trip to the UK.

Everything I've written about up until this point (London, Brussels, Paris) covered time when I was traveling on my own. Before I left Vancouver, I signed on to a bus tour of the British Isles. I did so with some hesitation, mostly because I had never been on a bus tour before. Generally, I prefer to explore at my own pace, taking in the sights that interest me while avoiding those that don't. On the other hand, the bus tour allowed me to see a wider area of the UK than I could have managed on my own. In addition to saving me the fuss and bother of researching and booking transportation and accommodation options, the tour ran during the second part of my trip when the stress fracture in my foot was at its worst.

Let me start by saying the group I traveled with was in no way like the gang featured in the film "If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium". With the possible exception of two women, everyone was friendly and easy to get along with. There were two young boys in the group as well - very well-mannered, interested/interesting lads who charmed the socks off the rest of us. Our guide, Steen (not Sheen as the city guide in Belfast called him), was a walking encyclopedia of history, culture, and trivia and in no way resembled the guide in the aforementioned film. Paul (not Glenn as the same city guide insisted), our driver, was a gem as well. Without the kindness and thoughtful assistance of Steen, Paul and several of my fellow travelers (most notably Adenna, Tony and Jan, Ivor and Michelle, Frank and Georgina) I would not have had nearly as much fun - many thanks to all of them for helping me get around when I found walking so very difficult. Here's a shot of Adenna and me on our last night of the tour:

So, on with the tour!

After meeting up in a hotel lobby in London, we headed off to our first stop, Stratford. Ann Hathaway's cottage wasn't much to look at, so we didn't spend any time there other than to have a group photo taken. We did, however, spend time in Stratford proper where we had a chance to see the house where William Shakespeare was born (a sight that seems to be the UK equivalent of Green Gables although Shakespeare is more of a real person than Anne Shirley will ever be).

Had a bit of time to wander around the town. Although very much a "tourist trap", it did boast a nice shop that specialized in Moorcroft pottery and another that sold original prints/book plates from works by Beatrix Potter, Kate Greenaway, and several artists who specialized in illustrations of scenes from Shakespeare's plays.

Next stop was York, home of the famous Minster (church). The city walls reminded me of the ones surrounding Derry (Londonderry) in Northern Ireland. Was especially interested in The Shambles, a street where the upper storeys of buildings remain much as they were in the days of William the Conquerer.

We were scheduled to stay the night in Harrogate, but that was switched to the Holiday Inn in York due to the original hotel being booked up by a large convention. Heavy traffic the next day prevented us from even glimpsing Harrogate. Detour in the Dales took us through Opley to Skipton. Passed by Bronte country, where hedgerows give way to stone walls.

Spied a collie herding sheep.Did I mention the sheep? They were EVERYWHERE. Many were of the Herdwig breed (lambs = black, adults = grey), but I believe our guide also mentioned "Bromwell" or something like that. Any fibre folks out there have any idea what breed that might be? Sorry I don't have a photo to help identify the beasties. Spotted my first Highland cattle just outside of Gargrave before making a loo stop.

At Bowness, most of the group opted to take a one-hour boat ride on Lake Windermere, the largest natural lake in England. It was too cold and wet for my liking so I opted to stay on shore where I likely got as good a view (or better) than those in the boat. On a warm calm day, I would have enjoyed messing about on the lake in one of these pretty wee boats.

Picked up a postcard for Momzy (I sent one to her each day of my trip) and a walking guide of the area which was home to Beatrix Potter and the setting for many of her charming stories. Unfortunately, none of the walks were anywhere near where the bus sat waiting for the boat. Feet and legs were really bothering me, so I couldn't have seen many of the sights in any case. 

Grasmere was a welcome lunch/rest stop. Had time to pop into St. Oswald's church. Wordsworth is buried in the church yard along with several members of his family.

We had just missed the "rushbearing" ceremonies (see   http://www.visitcumbria.com/rushbearing-festivals.htm   for more info), but near-fresh rushes still covered the stone church floor - which made walking a rather slippery business. Apologies for the dark photo, but it might give you a sense of what the rush-covered floor looked like. It still had the heavenly smell of fresh-cut grass.

While in the village, I also picked up some of the famous Kendal Mint Cake (basically sugar - white or brown - with mint) which proved far too sweet for my taste. Also tried the local variation of gingerbread which was a rather crumbly oatmeal-based thing that tended more toward cookie than cake or bread, but far more edible than its minty cousin.

En route to Gretna Green we caught a glimpse of a portion of Hadrian's Wall. The stop at Gretna Green was far too long for my liking as there was nothing there other than a few shops. Oh, and the infamous blacksmith's shop where scores of weddings have taken place over the years. Heck, we stumbled upon one just as the ceremony was ending. As an added photo op, the piper stayed behind to entertain the crowd of tourists, most of whom were also eager to get on with their respective bus tours.

We then headed to Glasgow. I had taken this particular tour because it promised two nights in Glasgow. If you're a Charles Rennie Mackintosh fan, you'll understand the attraction. What the tour description failed to make clear, however, was the fact that Glasgow was nothing more than a place to have dinner and lay our head. Being much less dear than Edinburgh, accommodation was arranged a short drive away in Glasgow. So I made the most of what opportunity was available to me to glimpse what little I could of Mackintosh's lovely works. As luck would have it dinner was arranged at Darcy's, an Earl's-like restaurant that was under renovation in a mall strategically located across Buchanan St. from one of Mackintosh's famous Willow Tea Rooms (see  http://www.willowtearooms.co.uk). Sadly the tea room was closed and, since it was located on an upper floor, I could only admire the trademark sign.

Ditto the situation at the original tea room on Sauciehall St.

With the day's light fading fast, I decided to hoof it further along Sauciehall St. in search of the equally famous Glasgow School of Art. Sadly, that was also closed but a very kind security guard took the time to describe the interior for me. I had studied the building in several architecture history courses, so had seen many of the rooms in photos, but would have given my mother's dentures to stand in the library! As Momzy makes regular use of her improved dental work, I resigned myself to photograph the exterior of the school in the fast-fading light. Have to admit the dim light showed the building to interesting effect.

In the end, it was fortuitous that I was not able to gain access to the interior of the Glasgow School of Art. By the time I managed to waddle back through the driving rain to the hotel, my left knee was very swollen and sore as were both ankles. Worse, there were no grab bars in the bathroom so I was unable to negotiate the 24"-high+surround bathtub. Out of respect for my fellow travellers, I did my best to have a very thorough sponge bath via the sink. Mind-boggling how many bathrooms in hotels used on the tour had similarly inaccessible bathing facilities, especially when the majority of bus tour passengers are middle aged or older.

Steen, our tour director, had offered me the option of staying on in Glasgow so that I would have time to visit the Mackintosh-designed buildings at my leisure in the daylight. I'm glad I decided to travel with the group to Edinburgh. Due to my inability to walk at speed, especially on uneven ground, I was driven up the hill to Edinburgh Castle while the others enjoyed a leisurely walk along the Royal Mile. Amazing I got a seat on the courtesy van as there were a couple of cruise ships in port and passengers from both were scrambling to get up to the castle as quickly as they could! After hobbling around the grounds for a while and admiring what I could see of the exterior of the buildings, I asked for directions to the Crown Jewels. A very kind castle guide took me up to the tower level in a lift, the others had to walk the two flights of stone stairs. I was struck by a few differences between the Scottish crown jewels and those of England. For one thing, it was possible to get right up to the glass case that held the Scottish jewels - whereas the English crown, etc could only be viewed from a moving walkway. The Scottish jewels were more modest than their English counterparts likely owing to the fact that the Scottish were in their original state and not refashioned/"improved" by a succession of monarchs. Also on display was the Stone of Scone/Stone of Destiny. The very name of the coronation "seat" reminded me of the consistency of my last batch of biscuits - note to self: don't skimp on the baking powder!

Had some free time in the afternoon so went looking for a Boots drugstore that might have some arch supports and/or a knee brace. Left knee and both ankles extremely sore and swollen now. So much so that I could barely walk at all. However, if I kept moving it wasn't so bad as when I sat for a while and then tried to stand and walk. Found a Boots on Princes St. Afterward, crossed the road to make a brief stop at the National Gallery - an exceptional portrait gallery as well as some nice Durer and Blake etchings, Impressionist paintings. Interestingly, there were no works by Mackintosh - those were in the d'Orsay gallery in Paris and I saw them while I was there a few days before joining the tour group! Also took a few minutes to pop in to Romanes & Paterson, a well-respected shop that specializes in quality products made in Scotland. Picked up a sporran ("purse" worn in front of a kilt - I use mine as a hip pouch), a spurtal (traditional porridge stir stick), a quaich (traditional cup/bowl), and a shortbread mold. Also passed the Scott Monument - which author Bill Bryson accurately (in my humble opinion) dubbed a Gothic rocket ship.

Onward toward Stirling. Sadly no time to track down the house where my father's maternal grandfather lived. We did, however, take in views of the site of the Battle of Bannockburn, Stirling Castle, the Wallace Monument, Doune (where Monty Python's "Life of Brian" was filmed), and thousands more sheep. Made a brief refreshment/loo stop at the Scottish Wool Centre near Aberfoyle. Shared some time with a Jacob, a Highland, and a Shetland sheep.

Must say it was great fun when one of the Shetlands escaped from its pen - with the help of a wee tiny girl who toddled through the pen gate when her mother turned her back. The staff had quite a time trying to herd the animal back behind the fence. One of the men on our tour bus helped out, to thunderous applause.

The visit to the Wool Centre wasa great introduction to our next dinner stop. Situated in the picturesque Trossachs, Ledard (see http://greattimescotland.com/index.html)  is located on the shores of Loch Ard. Dating back to 1474, the 300-acre working sheep farm is home to three generations of the Wood family. Some 14 border collies, 2 Australian sheep dogs, and 3 terriers help keep the wooly critters in line. (Unlike me, Gill, one of the collies, hates the bagpipes. Found this out while waiting for the others to walk up the steep driveway behind a fellow playing the pipes - Gregor, one of the Ledard owners, drove me up. Poor Gill tried his best to shut out the noise by burying his head behind my back and then in the lap of Fergus, Gregor's father. Once the music stopped, Gill was a happy dog once more!) Here's a photo of Gregor and the piper. Gill and the other dogs won't sit or stand still long enough to have their photos taken.

The main sheep breed found on the farm is Shetland. We just missed the shearing. At one time spinning and weaving was also done on the farm, but it's no longer profitable. The Woods also used to train sheep dogs, but Gregor told me they have stopped, at least for the time being, to concentrate on other things. In addition to being a working sheep farm, the property also draws visitors interested in fine food and cosy accommodations. Corporate events and weddings are a regular occurrence as are visits from tour groups like mine (if we came earlier, we would have been able to tour the farm operations). Ledard was a film location for the Mel Gibson blockbuster "Braveheart". The farm also has a place in Scottish history - Rob Roy came of age in the barn in October 1689 just three months after he had fought on the Jacobite side at the Battle of Killiecrankie. My tour group had a banquet-style dinner in that very barn. Entertainment was provided by Gregor, an wonderful storyteller with a great sense of humour, and Fergus who is the founder, manager and a player in The Kinlochard Ceilidh Band, one of the top traditional dance bands in Scotland. What did we eat? Lamb, of course! While it's very hard to see in these photos, the barn walls are something of an armaments museum. On display are some of the weapons of the Jacobite Clans - the Claymore, the Broadsword, the Dirk, the fearsome Lochaber Axe, and the Doune pistol.Yup, they're the real thing. Thankfully I needed nothing more than a butter knife to cut the lamb I was served.

All the talk of Scottish history followed by lively Highland music was great fun. My dear late father (who proudly counted the Stewart, Campbell, Scott, and Thompson clans amongst his ancestors) would have enjoyed it, too. To say nothing of the after-dinner drink - ginger wine with a drop of single malt Scotch.

When it came time to leave Glasgow, we journeyed through Alloway. Here we saw the thatched cottage of Robbie Burns,

the Auld Kirk to which Tam O'Shanter fled,

and the original Brigadoon (bridge over the River Doon).  While sheep continued to dot the countryside, there were also a number of Belted Galloway cows (black with a white band around the middle). At Turnberry, on the coast en route to the ferry, we could just make out Ailsa Craig through the foggy mist. Blue hone granite from that large stone island just off the coast is the source of stone for curling rocks. Took the ferry from Stranraer, Scotland to Larne, Northern Ireland.

Our only stop in Northern Ireland was a guided tour of Belfast followed by a lunch stop. We had the worst city guide I've ever encountered. "Isabelle" kept calling our driver Glenn instead of Paul and Steen, our regular guide, Sheen even though both corrected her more than a few times. To say we were given a tour of the fine city is overstating the facts. We drove past several points of interest only to be told they existed after we had turned a corner and the site was out of sight. For some reason hospitals and derelict buildings were given extensive descriptions. The Falls and Shankill Roads only warranted a passing mention, after the fact. Little was said about any of the political murals. Most people on the bus said they wouldn't consider going back to Belfast after hearing there was so little to see or do there. Fortunately I was in a position to set them straight as I spent a good week in that fine city in 2006. I also pointed out that we had, conveniently, parked the bus across the street from a wonderful lunch destination. The old Crown Pub was a welcome break. So many of us went that we had to slip into two groups in order to fit into appropriately sized snugs. I enjoyed a steak & Guiness pie with broccoli, carrots, and mashed potatoes. Adena and I shared a small plate of beer-battered mushrooms. All was washed down with a tasty 1/2 pint of Harp. (Top photo = snug door. Middle photo = snug interior - note "service" call button, DO NOT note my double chin. Bottom photo = window in snug behind where Adena was sitting)

Headed south toward the Republic of Ireland. Passed by the Boyne River, site of the infamous Battle of the Boyne the memory of which still insights some violence in Northern Ireland during the controversial "Marching Season".

A quick tour of Dublin before checking in at our hotel. Drove past Trinity College, Oscar Wilde's house & statue, the Guiness brewery, the Molly Malone statue (aka the Tart with the Cart), national museums and galleries, government buildings, the National Print Museum, Lord Mayor's House, Temple Bar cultural quarter, Ha'penny Bridge, Dublin Castle, Millennium Spire, and the General Post Office (GPO), site of the HQ for uprising leaders of the past. Had dinner at The Brazen Head, the oldest bar in Dublin. I had black pudding with salad, corned beef with steamed veg and mash, chocolate cake, and a pint of Guiness.

In this photo of one of the numerous rooms in The Brazen Head, note the unusual wallpaper. It's made from dollar bills! Sheets of plexiglass keep it intact.

By the end of this day, my right foot was very sore. My left knee was terribly swollen and sore, and my left ankle was the same size as my lower calf. I'm beginning to think the trouble with the left leg is that I'm favouring my right so putting more weight/pressure on the left. Too bad I hadn't had a second Guiness to help ease the pain.

The next morning we were treated to an amazing guided tour of Dublin. Unlike the forgettable Isabelle who was such a disaster in Belfast, this guide really knew her stuff and enjoyed sharing what she knew and liked about her hometown. In addition to the places we had driven past the night before, she pointed out St Patrick's Cathedral (aka Brewer's Cathedral) where Swift is buried, and the Kitchen nightclub that is owned by Bono. She told interesting stories about several places such as the Adam & Eve's church (aka Church of the Immaculate Conception). Apparently the building had been a pub during the time when Catholicism was outlawed. It kept the old pub's name when it became a church. While waiting at a bus stop, we were told  how to read a Dublin license plate - letters indicate where the car is from, numbers tell its age.

Did a bit of a tour through County Wicklow outside of Dublin. We were on our way to Glendaloough, site of a monastic settlement founded in the 6th century, and destroyed in 1398 by English troops. It was raining and the path was too uneven for my poor legs. I did, however, enjoy the scenery en route and managed to snap this photo of the archway "entrance" to the ruins.

Back in Dublin, I made my way to Trinity College to check out the Book of Kells (see http://www.tcd.ie/Library/bookofkells/). There were, in fact, two sections of the book on display with one open to beautiful calligraphy-covered pages and the other to the most intricate illuminated text. A couple of other books, published around the same time period, were also shown. The surrounding exhibit explained the history of the books and gave some insight into how the illuminated pages were created. I was especially taken by the large display window that contained examples of the various source materials (ochre, lapis, etc.) of the paints used. A guard kindly took me up in a lift (able-bodied visitors had to take the stairs) to see the Long Room Library, an aptly named room that is one of the great libraries of the world. As a child, I dreamed of being lost in such a place. What a joy that would have been! Provided I avoided the temporary exhibit about medical education and practice around the world - Jonathan Swift's death mask included. So much for being famous, dead, and with connections to a college that contributed much to the history of medicine in Ireland. My legs were telling me it was time to head back to the bus, although I seriously contemplated waddling up the road to pay respects at the statue of Oscar Wilde. Instead, I popped in to a couple of shops near where the bus was parked. Picked up some lovely Donegal tweed and Ferguson linen. The day closed with dinner/caberet (I think the place was called Taylor's) - lots of Irish music and dancing (the singing was mediocre) as well as a very funny comedian. One of his jokes went something like this: "I'm so old, I attended a funeral yesterday and caught the wreath!"

The following day we made our way to Kildare, home of the Irish National Stud, the national race horse breeding centre. Talk about pampered ponies! Most of the animals we saw not only had their own stall, but their own grassy pasture as well. It was certainly nice to spend so much time outdoors rather than sitting on the bus. Granted, I didn't walk much since two darling gents from the tour group (Tony and Ivor) insisted on pushing me about in a wheelchair they commandeered from the gift shop. Good thing as the ground was very uneven along the pathways and I wouldn't have been able to walk far if at all. In addition to seeing some beautiful horses and hearing about the business of horse breeding, we also took time to visit a lovely Japanese garden that was also on the centre's grounds.

Stopped for a couple of hours at Kilkenny where I took some time to explore a charming old castle (see http://www.kilkennycastle.ie/en/). I couldn't handle the steps, so was allowed to view the ground floor without charge. The massive part in front of the castle is a popular picnic area - little wonder given the setting.


Next stop was Waterford and a tour of the famous glass factory. It was very interesting seeing how various pieces being made. Watched some fellows blowing the glass into wooden molds that were set in water to prevent them from catching fire in the process. The mold is positioned on the floor directly below where the fellow in the lower photo is working with the red-hot glass (you can see the box holding the mold - it is surrounded by a red hose).

Further down the line, other workers cut patterns into the glass. A complex exhaust system and jets of water aimed at the cutting blade keep the dangerously fine glass dust to a minimum.

Several pieces would become much-coveted sports trophies - some of which will be presented during the 2012 Olympics in London - others equally prized items such goblets, candy dishes, and this over-the-top clock which stood in the factory entrance lobby. The seahorses at the top of the clock are the Waterford factory's logo.

Stayed the night in Waterford. Dinner was at a traditional pub at the edge of town. It was called The Thatch due to the building's thatched roof. Entertainment was provided by a family trio of traditional Irish musicians. On the way back to the hotel saw several rescue vessels on the river, lots of police and ambulances along the shore, and a rescue helicopter circling overhead. Turned on the TV when I got back to my room to see what happened. Instead heard the breaking news of a bomb blast in Oslo and mass shooting at a political youth camp that was being held nearby. A shocking reminder that not everyone in the world was enjoying a jolly holiday. Re the events on the river: learned the next morning that someone had jumped off the bridge near our hotel and someone jumped in after them. It was reportedly not a good outcome.

Needless to say the last two noted events were more than a little unsettling. Adding to feeling was the fact that I had my night's sleep interrupted several times by drunken young men shouting at girls who were staying in my hotel. Turns out there were several "hens" (female version of a stag) taking place in town and the girls got into some heavy drinking along with the fellows. The guys followed the girls back to their lodgings but couldn't get past hotel security to meet up with the floozies of their fancy. So they shimmied up the poles supporting the overhang that extended above the first floor. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your point of view) the girls wouldn't open the windows to let the drunken dudes in, so the lads had to do their vomiting outside. Outside my window. At 5am. For some reason I didn't get a wake-up call that morning, but the shouting and other noises ensured I didn't oversleep.

Turns out the events of that night are a very common occurrence in Waterford. In fact, it is very much a destination for all things stag and hen. Seems the object of the exercise is to get as drunk as you can, be as obnoxious as you can, disturb the locals and others as much as possible ...  All in all it was quite the culture shock. Not just for me, but for most everyone else on the tour bus. Chatting with some of the hotel staff, it seems the city turns a blind eye because of the revenue generated by such escapades. But whatever happened in Waterford paled in comparison to what we later witnessed in Cardiff. In that city, the various groups dressed in like costumes (e.g., a group of young men dressed as babies, complete with diapers, walked a few steps then fell on the sidewalk and had a mock tantrum. The humour wore rather thin after the third display of this behaviour.). The most disgusting troupe were attired like brides, but there was ample vomit dripping down the front of most lace-covered dresses. The actual bride had to be carried from one venue to another. Oh yeah, we encountered both the babies and the brides before noon!

Despite all that, Cariff was still worth the visit if only to see the rather ornate castle.

Of equal interest was the " beast wall" that ran along the public edge of the grounds. The name came from the life-like stone beasts that hung off the top of the wall at regular intervals.

The following was the final day of our tour, and we made the most of it.

Our first stop was Bath, a city renowned as much of its classic buildings as for the ancient Roman Baths. 

 No, gentle reader, I did not feel compelled to "take the waters". Just as well since there were signs everywhere warning people not to touch or drink the water. Heck, ya just had to smell it to know that wouldn't be a good idea!

Next stop was Stonehenge. Now, I've been hearing and reading about this spiritually charged place since I was a wee schoolgirl. Always imagined the stones to be of a massive scale, vibrating with other-worldly energy that would open my mind to the secrets of the cosmos (insert sound of pin popping balloon here). In reality, the stones are quite short. Of course, they still must pack quite the heft for anyone wanting to move them even a fraction of a millimetre.

The perimetre was roped off so visitors couldn't climb on them. There was no written commentary, only audio handsets that the hundreds of visitors (and I) carried around with them. It took about 15-20min total to hear the whole tape and to walk around the entire Stonehenge site. A tad disappointing as neither the size nor the mystique of the stones lived up to my expectations. Even so, I'm glad I saw them. One less thing on the ol' bucket list. For me, the "mounds" located around the site were equally or more interesting.


Later in the day, while crossing the Salisbury Plain, we glimpsed a couple of chalk horse drawings on the distant hills. Salisbury Cathedral was a wondrous site but, in my view, somewhat marred by the addition of life-like human art pieces on both the exterior and interior of the building. Their presence was very unsettling, at least for me, especially when they were installed sitting down or lying on a crypt. Even so, the beautiful of the cathedral remained unchanged.

I was especially intrigued with the font (the square thingy in the foreground of the photo above) which acted as a perpetual fountain with water dripping off the corners. I was also drawn to the regimental flags, some mere threads (like the one to the left of the tattered Union Flag), which hung along one side of the building.

Paul then drove the bus back to London where we kissed our goodbyes. Some of us who were leaving in the morning managed to get together for a quick dinner before a much-welcomed sleep.

When I arrived at Heathrow Airport for the flight home, the woman at the check-in desk insisted on ordering a wheelchair for me at every leg of my journey. I will be forever grateful. The distance between one end of any of the airports and another was far too much for my badly treated feet and knees. I'm sure it was something of a shock for Penny and Marcia to see me arrive in a wheelchair. At least I got to do and see what I wanted to. Many thanks again to Tony, Ivor, Adenna, and the others on the tour for helping me out.