David's Cruise

Had the trains been running normally, right now, I would have been on my way today rather than yesterday, and been a couple of hundred quid better off!  But I would have missed the joys of wandering aimlessly around the spectacular (I would think) shopping mall in Lewisham.  You see, I had left my toothbrush charger and some bathroom gear back at home, and already, the toothbrush was sluggish and in dire need of charging up.  I resigned myself to the expense of buying a whole new unit.  And in Boots, replacement “e-toothbrushes” were “reduced” from around £300-400, to anything between £125 and maybe £180.00.  Then, I came across one that ran on 2 x AA batteries, just the job at £8!  I was impressed and rather quite relieved.  Also, an opportunity to catch up on last-minute gifts had materialised. 

I have always liked Blackheath.  Although close to the capital, the area has the individual character of a small town, or even village, with All Saints church prominent on the Green opposite a favourite hotel, The Clarendon. Public transport is plentiful around here, obviating the need of a car. 

Is the grass greener down south?  At one time, I was quite eager to try it out, but, (and I think, thankfully) I am very content with whereI have lived for the last almost forty-eight years, Harpur Hill, Buxton, not quite in the North of England.   Any desire to retire elsewhere, I reckon, has diminished; I feel too old to “start over” and bring to an end, my daily view of the magnificent Axe Edge, raised moorlands, clearly visible from the back rooms of where I live.

Christmas Day (late evening) 2022.

Being invited to join my godson and his family as well as his French parents-in-law in nearby Catford for Christmas, this provided ample opportunity and excuse to put myself up in The Clarendon for a number of days, and I would be joined by my sister and brother-in-law for two of those days.

Christmas Eve, after shopping in Lewisham, and a light lunch would continue with a Christmas Eve Parade, gathering at (I think) St. Mary’s Catholic Church, before parading to All Saints Church on the “heath,” almost opposite the Clarendon. I was astonished at the size of the gathering in the Village Centre, as right on time, a marching band playing carols approached with huge crowds following. The band finally assembled to the right of the steps leading to the main entrance of All Saints Church. Carol sheets were handed out, but not being anywhere near the band, the carol singing was “well out of sync.”

A couple of prayers and a blessing brought these joyous proceedings to a close, just in time for me to catch a 54 bus to Catford Town Centre and walk up to my godson’s home, for a fabulous evening casual meal of several delicious savoury, and a few sweet dishes.

We would return to All Saints, Blackheath for Midnight Mass, which thankfully started at 10pm. Although I was back in my hotel room in good time, messing with my phone and then labelling Christmas presents saw me getting my head down at around 00.45 hrs on Christmas Day.

I slept well. We took a taxi to my Godson’s regular church, St. Augustin’s, Honor Oak Park, again in S.E. London. In his sermon, the priest ensured the children were included in his deliberations, and all appeared thrilled to be quite a major part of the proceedings. I was impressed. Would all these happy smiling youngsters be part of a future congregation?

Christmas Day lunch with the family would spread almost over the entire afternoon and evening, as courses were punctuated by family games, carol singing, and convivial dual language conversation. I really do need to brush up on my French… and on my piano playing! We stayed late before saying goodbye to the parents-in-law who would be returning home tomorrow.

Christmas Day has just five minutes to run before St. Stephen’s (Boxing) Day. The day after, the rail strike ends in the morning, and with luck, I shall be on my way “oop north” where I have no plans (yet) for New Years’ Eve.

00.01hrs Boxing Day.

My new eight quid battery-operated toothbrush is actually nowhere near as good as its mains charged counterparts. It does work, but it is more like pulling teeth than cleaning them!

Many thanks for reading, David, 00.09, Boxing Day 2022.

It’s the shortest day, and at long last, I have finished writing and mailing the Christmas cards.

22/12/22 at 6, The Square tea rooms, Buxton.

I have been trying to write this blog now for perhaps a couple of weeks.  Already, it is Thursday, and Christmas Day is just three days away on Sunday.

Thus, I would like to wish all those still reading my Blog,

HAPPY CHRISTMAS and very best wishes for a prosperous and (importantly) peaceful NEW YEAR

Despite not having written since 9th December, my blog stats indicate a handful of views and visitors each day. I am not sure what the difference is between a view and visitor!  While my travels make for the most interesting of these writings, even as we approach Christmas, my festive routines somehow don’t make for overly worthwhile reading.  It’s the unexpected occurrences that may be of slight interest.

One such unwelcome event was learning that my lovely red convertible Peugeot 307cc needs several “grand” spending on it.  Really?  Before taking it to my main dealer way back in late September, emissions resembled a mainline diesel locomotive being fired up from cold.  A rather sheepish and apologetic rep from the garage seemed to encourage keeping the red car running as against “letting it go.”  It is easy to become attached to a vehicle I have enjoyed for over six years, and which has given little trouble and much pleasure.  However, I think that now is the time to replace the red car for a model I have always hankered after, the slightly larger and much better equipped 308.  There is plenty of choice on eBay!

Tomorrow, I forsake the solitude of home for four nights at a one-time favourite hotel, The Clarendon at Blackheath.  The trains are running normally, hence going down a day early to avoid industrial disruption the next day.  Yep, it’s Christmas with family and friends. 

Finally, I dodge the latter part of a U.K. winter as I set sail on an odyssey to Australia where summer draws towards autumn. It will still be hot!  In fact, I am hoping the warm weather is evident in the Mediterranean in the first days of this epic voyage.

20.30 hrs in the Taj Mahal Restaurant, Higher Buxton.

This afternoon, a prominent member of the congregation at St. John’s hosted his “farewell” Christmas get-together at the magnificent Victorian, which he restored to beyond its former glory, I guess, around 11 or 12 years ago.  His plan, which did come to fruition, was to host numerous (what he called) soirées, some as fundraisers for very worthwhile causes.  My invitation came yesterday!  His home lends itself to such events superbly.  This afternoon, guests were invited to bring a bottle, nibbles, or perhaps both!  I hope my contribution of a bottle of Brut champagne was appropriate.  The host, now in the wrong segment of his eighties, has chosen to downsize to a superb apartment in the town, but we are assured of the continuance of these convivial get-togethers, at which, more often than not, wonderful singers and musicians entertain the guests. This afternoon, it was mainly Christmas music…for obvious reasons.

I have been less efficient than usual this Christmas. As in previous years, my intention to have all the cards, etc, written and mailed in the first few days of December, failed to materialise and one or two to whom I usually send Christmas greetings will have not heard from me this year. Huge apologies.

Tonight, I went to my favourite Indian restaurant in Higher Buxton, and despite how very busy the place was, I was served a fabulous chicken dish. Tonight, I shall trundle home, watch some TV or YouTube videos, and tomorrow, prepare to visit friends and family over Christmas.

Thanks for reading and HAPPY CHRISTMAS to you all. David, 21.36, the Taj Mahal, Buxton.

Is there really so little to write about, as early November, grey, but pleasantly mild morphs into a short-lived mid, and then late November. High winds and some very heavy rain have shown little mercy on the vibrant autumn colours, always the harbinger of possibly months of freezing conditions and the inconvenience of (especially where I live) contending with huge falls of the “white stuff.” Yet, I was quite happy to wade through this during a brief bus ride from Vancouver to Whistler at the beginning of June, when back in the real world, summer was just beginning, as actually, it was in British Columbia on Canada’s west coast.

As those of you who read my blog will remember, I spent much of the first seven months of 2022, enjoying commuting across the North Atlantic (by sea, of course) to various destinations where cruise-ships call, and fascinating and distant parts of the world can be explored, either independently, or by pre-organised excursion, now referred, pompously, by Cunard as shore experiences. Actually, shore experience could be an appropriate description…not all experiences are necessarily good ones!

What feels like recently, but was probably and four or five years ago, I read a book “from cover to cover,” unusual for me, as generally, I don’t enjoy reading. I think the title was Captain of the Queens, an autobiography of Bob Arnott, whose fascinating and at times, poignant maritime career culminated in his becoming Master of the former Cunard liner, Queen Elizabeth 2. In a later chapter, he recalled a passenger who, each year, would take herself on the World Cruise, and then address an audience at her local village hall with an illustrated account of her travels that year, an event which was always “sold-out.” Already, I had chosen to use my travels as an opportunity for self-imposed sponsored walking, in support of Christian Aid Week 2022. A respectable number of people had signed up on the proviso that I would achieve the One Million Steps on and Between Two Continents suggested in the title of my challenge. While contemplating over a designer coffee in a lounge with infinite ocean views and a dramatic skyscape, thoughts of this little old, but well healed lady, and her annual sold out slide show, prompted me to consider doing something similar in Buxton. As a teenage rail enthusiast, I would do something similar at school, and, even into my early 20s, give an account, only when invited to, of my very first trips to North America, a huge adventure back in 1969 and 1971. Things were far simpler then. The completed roll of Agfa CT18 would be posted to an address in SW19, and around a week later, an orange and blue plastic box with 24 or 36 colour-slides would come back in the post, proving a mixed success rate in one’s photographic prowess. I also had some success with Super 8 cine film, but only with a camera with no attached zoom facilities!

This year, I did feel that my travels were worthy of sharing with an audience, possibly at the modern Church Centre in Buxton, very close to the 17th Century St. Anne’s Church on Bath Road. My walking efforts, which averaged 11,000 steps per day (3.89 miles) for 131 days, had generated a respectable contribution to Christian Aid; my talk would perhaps “top up” the funds raised to date.

People rarely “do” colour-slides these days, and I would have to reacquaint myself with how PowerPoint works. I had used it briefly sometime around 2006, when invited to address the Conservative Coffee Club. Both occasions did go well despite “over-running!”

This time, the challenge was to condense a land and sea journey of (very approximately) 55,000 miles into to two half hour sessions, with a tea and cakes break in between.

I purchased a new PowerPoint projector, and screen, appropriate for the size of the Church Centre. With enormous patience from a good friend, for whom anything hi tech is merely a way of life, I would again be reasonably confident with PowerPoint, and was soon adding pictures and removing those in an effort to confine my talk to two lots of half an hour!

So, the last few weeks were occupied, putting this fundraising event together; lots of trial and error, including having a computer expert cleaning up and re-equipping my laptop, by now, suffering from constipation!

The day I was dreading, and looking forward to simultaneously, had arrived. I had culled my pictures by a third, and felt fairly confident that I would include all that I intended in perhaps, two lots of 40 minutes, rather than the intended half an hour. I was encouraged by the number of people who turned up, far more than I realistically expected on a dull, windy cool November evening. We started at 7.30 prompt. Even in 45 minutes, I hadn’t got anywhere near where I wanted to, to close “part 1.” However, part one did generate what I felt was a sincere applause. I, with everybody else, took a twenty minute refreshment break. By then, I had realised that my laptop had defaulted to a less edited version. Pictures which I thought I had deleted, suddenly appeared, as if to say, “up yours!”

In part 2, I decided that scenes of the Grand Canyon would make a suitable finale. At the intended finishing time, I invited those who were not comfortable staying out late to leave, assuring them that there was always an opportunity to “see the rest” at a later event. Surprisingly, the hall did not empty and the presentation came to a suitable end with fabulous images of the Grand Canyon. Another round of applause, and a collection plate brimming with generous donations. I gave myself a small pat on the back!

Many thanks for reading,

David, 13.22 hrs, at home, still full from breakfast at the Premier Inn.

It’s around three weeks since my last blog, which was merely a “correction” of the blog I wrote earlier that day.  Reading that blog today (10th October), I stumbled across yet another glaring spelling mistake which I have just corrected.  Albeit three weeks since I last wrote, “technology” reassures me that my blog site is accessed on a daily basis.  By whom, I know not.  But thank you anyway.

Little of interest has happened since 20th September, and even in that blog, I dwelt very much in the past.

I am, of course, preparing for the grand finale of my fundraising efforts in support of Christian Aid Week 2022 which included sponsored walking in (I think) twelve different countries as well as on board ship. This is in the form of an illustrated talk on said travels between January and July, an itinerary of around 54,000 miles with no flying. The idea of giving a talk came to me while reading the autobiography of Captain “Bob” Arnott whose phenomenal sea-going career culminated in his becoming master of the former Cunard liner Queen Elizabeth 2. He described a regular world cruise passenger who each year would give a slide show and talk in a packed village hall. I don’t go on world cruises every year, and if the truth be known, I have never actually been around the world in one “go.” In “bits” over a two year period after retirement, I did just manage to “join the dots” and can now say that I have circumnavigated the world by land and sea with no flying. That could be the subject of another talk, if this one is successful.

To hopefully eliminate the risk of technical failure in front of a huge audience in the Church Centre, I have invested in a PowerPoint projector which I ordered on Saturday and which arrived before lunchtime yesterday (Monday). My neighbour over the road has a suitable screen which is used regularly at his Church, and between now and November 8th, I have four weeks to put together a fluent and entertaining presentation.

My annual subscription to the Buxton Musical Society became due, and I decided, after my annual diabetic check-up, to walk from Buxton Medical Practice, along Broadwalk to the NatWest Bank on Spring Gardens, a nice stroll of around a quarter of a mile. There, I would renew my membership of Buxton Musical Society on a monthly basis. On entering, I discovered that the Buxton Branch is to close on February 14th next year, making the ever so helpful and highly professional personnel redundant. This is a disgrace! Now, if I want to do some complicated business, I will have to drive 20 minutes to Bakewell, until that Branch also closes for good. I have been with my Bank since around 1968 when it was Williams Deacon’s Bank. I am “quietly unimpressed.”

Although the house has felt cold inside, outside, it has been quite pleasant this week. Sadly, I attended the funeral of a Friends of Buxton Festival colleague whose company I, along with very many others, enjoyed greatly. The Church was full, and as is the case at funerals, I learned a great deal about the full and extraordinary life he led. Despite the huge size of the congregation, I knew just three people. But that was enough to dispell any feeling that I was intruding. I didn’t take much persuasion to attend the reception afterwards, although I had it in mind merely to go straight home.

I started this blog on Monday. Now, it is the very early hours of Friday morning.

Many thanks for reading, David, 0025, 14/10/22.

My spelling in the last paragraph has been corrected. Google David Nevell Buxton, click on One Miliion Steps on Two Continents and scroll down to “My Blogs.” Click there to access the latest blog (including this one) and scroll back as far as you like.

One of my first memories is that of watching the Coronation next door, at Mrs Needham’s with my brother and two sisters, and Mummie and Daddie, experiencing television for the first time.  I remember flickering images on a small screen of parades, and numerous renditions of God Save the Queen, my introduction to a lifetime’s joy from music. I don’t recall being particularly enamoured with the silly nursery rhymes my mother would serenade with as a toddler, but being amused decades later, during the era of political correctness when Baa baa Black Sheep was rewritten as Baa Baa Sheep!

Between then and now, I attended primary school, private grammar school, was employed for all except for around six weeks, between 1966 and 2017 with five different employers, had a heart attack, and am now contentedly retired.   My father, at his retirement party during the inevitable speech stated that he had enjoyed his life, citing a few “watersheds.”   He listed various  significant events including getting married, having children, and eventually retiring.  He ended his speech quipping I’m not looking forward to the next major event!  We all smiled uncomfortably!  My father died in 1995 aged 78. That gives me 5 years!

Between 1953 and now, eras came and went. Governments came and went.  Archbishops and local clergy came and went, as did dignitaries in local government and industry.   There seemed to be a nostalgia for bygone times when Britain was Great…it still is Great Britain but in some ways (but by no means in all cases) a bit tackier than what we seem to remember.  However, the miraculous surgery I received at Wythenshawe Hospital, which at the time felt like conveyer belt routine, saved my life.  This would have not been the case forty years earlier.   Now, after all this and more, the Queen has departed this life, at the very respectable age of 96.

Yesterday, I was invited to, once again, sit around the T.V. at a friend’s house, this time with church colleagues.  Whereas in 1953, I hadn’t a clue about the historic occasion I was experiencing, this time, all was perfectly clear as the largest ever gathering of world leaders or their representatives gathered in Westminster Abbey for the first State Funeral since that of Operation Hope Not, in 1965, the name given by Sir Winston Churchill for his funeral.  Yesterday was both sad and wonderful at the same time. But there was so much to take in. I know not the number of participants, obviously several thousand. But each individual in the thousands involved were at the very top of his or her game; the military personnel, the trumpeters, musicians, clergy and Church hierarchy, the cameramen and commentators on all TV channels I watched.  And I am sure my summing-up of yesterday only covers a “fraction.”

The title of this blog is not quite appropriate…Sometime next year, it wouldn’t surprise me if I joined friends and/or family around a flat-screen television for the Coronation of King Charles III.  That really will be Full Circle.

Many thanks for reading, David  09.38 at home.

Originally, my writings were merely intended to be a travel blog, charting various trips and voyages to other parts of the world, as well as travels within the U.K., and the occasional commemorative or farewell railtour. 

Then, in March 2020, I returned from a South American cruise to a Britain in lockdown.  The first global pandemic since 1918/9 had been declared, and chances of contracting the life threatening covid-19 felt like a certainty.  So much so that I washed a punnet of strawberries in soap and water, rinsed them thoroughly, and  put on a little Elmlee cream.  Boy! did they taste lousy! 

I wrote at least weekly, about the pandemic until January this year when I felt confident to resume travelling. Ye Gods!  Did I make up for lost time….and caught covid-19 in the process!  If I have done the maths correctly, I figure that, this year, without flying, I covered around 60,000 miles, including no less than six transatlantic crossings, and setting foot in maybe 12 countries.  My calculations suggest that while travelling abroad, including four departures from Southampton, I walked probably over 528 miles in 131 days, upto July 14th.   All this has been detailed in blogs upto Blog 837, including a “quickie” on QM2 to Norway at the beginning of this month, not included in these mentioned figures.

For a second time, on 11th September, (incidentally the 21st anniversary of 9-11) we would dock in Southampton at a significantly sad but noteworthy time.  Why, at the very ripe old age of 96, I was taken by absolute surprise at the passing of The Queen, I shall never know, except that, with the little I knew about her fragile health, I thought she might not make it to the New Year.  For very very many, me included, the unthinkable had happened and it wasn’t long before the souvenir coin companies were cashing in; I don’t think they were on their own.  Newspapers of the day are on eBay, available from sellers who have e.g. 10 available, i.e., they bought in bulk, for the benefit of people like me, a collector, stuck in Norway! 

But, I was in the right place. I had rejoiced in the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee back in June, on board Queen Elizabeth (appropriately), also in the Diamond Jubilee celebrations on board QM2 during a three-Cunard ship gathering in Southampton in 2012, when it thrashed it down with rain all day, and also, latterly on board QM2 last week when I joined in God Save our Gracious King, for the first time at a superbly arranged-at-the-last-minute Service of Remembrance, an event whose “plans were, maybe, on the back-burner for a number of years.  That was where I wanted to be, but never expected to be.

Many years ago, probably when I was in my teens, I attended a concert in Manchester with Mum and Dad. If I remember rightly, we were seated in the side-circle of the now non existent Free Trade Hall, almost above a full Halle Orchestra and Chorus.  They gave a rousing powerful performance of Handel’s Coronation Anthem, Zadoc the Priest.  This was the first time I gleaned that my father might have had little regard for royalty.  He remarked after Handel’s loud and glorious Long Live the King, God Save the King, May the King Live Forever…  “it makes one want to be a royalist!”  My poor father must have had the patience of Job, because as an 11 year-old, I wanted to see the Queen pass by on horse-back on the Mall at the 1960 Trooping the Colour.  Without any hint of disapproval, he agreed, and complained not, at the length of time we waited for the Queen, on horseback, to ride by, the whole thing lasting but a few seconds.   My Brownie 620 camera captured the moment, but although congratulated by my parents, the picture would win no awards!  I found the official programme for this event, reminding me of how kind and patient my father must have been.  As a small boy, I enjoyed the processions and what is now referred to, questionably, as pomp and circumstance. I prefer “ceremony” to “circumstance.”

This is Day 3 of the Lying-in-State and probably a million people have seen fit to spend perhaps 12 hours or more in a queue around four miles long, to pay their respects, and, be a part of history.  I do wonder, if in time, I will regret not doing the same. Probably not, because I now know my limitations!  On Friday and today, I resumed walking.

Below are pictures taken from, and of, two different sections of the former Cromford and High Peak Railway.

I had thus chosen to remind myself of the fabulous countryside close to where I live.  Yesterday, I revisited the abandoned railway which I can see from my back garden.  Without driving, I can enjoy far reaching views of and beyond the Georgian Spa Town of Buxton, where the Dome and Palace Hotel can be picked out like Matchbox toys.  And today, I walked from Hurdlow to Newhaven Tunnel and back. Walking in a southerly direction, the cool north wind was of little consequence.  Walking two and a bit miles in the other direction to the car is a little more challenging.  Despite the cool wind from the north, the sun’s warmth remains evident when the grey clouds get out of the way.

There is something telling me that I am slightly disappointed not to be in London this weekend.  But I did enjoy revisiting the High Peak Trail yesterday and today in an attempt to imagine the days when all this was working railway,  And tomorrow, I can’t be in two places at once.  St. John’s in Buxton is marking the Passing of H.M.Queen Elizabeth II with a Service of Thanksgiving at 3.00 pm.  The regular 11 am Sung Eucharist will take place as usual.  So no going to London then.

On Monday, I shall continue to pay my respects quietly at home, watching the funeral on TV., after which I shall resume walking. You see, I have my annual diabetic check mid October!

19/9/22 Blog checked for typos and clumsy grammar and posted far later than planned, after The Funeral of H.M. Queen Elizabeth II Many thanks for reading. David.

Written after arriving home, two days later.

This is meant to be a travel blog!  What do I write about? The lousy sleep I had the night before!  I suspect this time, I wasn’t the only person with insomniacal tendencies.  And as I lay awake as if I had drunk a coffee plantation, I had more or less resolved to abandon the excursion to the Edvard Grieg resistance, Troldhaugen.  But when the morning came, I figured a piano recital of Grieg’s music in the futuristic concert hall in the composer’s grounds was too good an event to let slip by.  Judging by how full both coaches were, I doubt if anybody else cancelled their booking either.  It was another beautiful warm day, and Bergen came across as thriving and prosperous.

Little bits did seem vaguely familiar from my first holiday abroad starting off in Bergen, 60 years and 1 month ago.  Being bathed in bright sunshine, Bergen certainly looked at its best.  I think Troldhaugen, Grieg’s house, is around 5 miles away.  The lake (or fjord) looks beautiful from the house and grounds.  There were no fancy souvenir shops or museums as far as I remember in 1962.  Troldhaugen has been developed into a worthwhile tourist attraction without really spoiling the house and grounds.  The recital was world class, and of respectable duration.  We returned to Bergen after an all too brief tour of the house and gardens.  My brain could not absorb the organisation into groups; thus I missed out on some of the grounds.  But feeling overly drowsy, I told myself I could return quite easily by ferry, and explore at my own pace.  The tour guide did do well talking about the life of Grieg and explaining many artefacts in his house.  I did abandon my own plans to search out the Grand Hotel Terminus, where I stayed in my first ever foreign hotel, with Mum and Dad, sixty years ago.  Although the guide was unfamiliar with the “Grand H.T.” she  ascertained on her phone that the hotel did still exist.  We were quickly shown around much of the town before being dropped off at the ship.  A technical problem with one of QM2’s pods needed to be addressed before we could dock this morning.  Thus we set sail for Southampton half an hour after the booked departure time. 

I took no further pictures until after re-embarking QM2, except a couple of photos of the ship in Bergen.  In 1962, I had sailed in with Mum and Dad on Bergen Line’s Venus. 

Leaving Bergen at 3.30 pm, we headed out towards the North Sea, through which we would continue south towards the Straits of Dover and eventually Southampton, arriving at the ungodly hour of 06 30 hrs.  Leaving Bergen entails some scenic cruising, past many small rugged islands, all looking very attractive in the still gorgeous weather.

We would pass under the Askoybroen, (Askoy Bridge) which spans the Byfjorden which I presume we were heading along towards the open sea.

It had been announced that an Interdemoninational Service in Remembrance of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II would take place in the Royal Court Theatre at 12.15 the following day.

A very impressive number turned up in good time.  A huge screen behind the stage acted as a backdrop from which TV broadcasts were being shown “live.”  This is among the most poignant services I have attended, and my once proud booming voice failed to materialise when singing,  particularly I Vow to Thee My Country whose melody from Jupiter (The Planets Suite Gustav Holst) rather than the actual words, brings a lump to the throat.  I did manage God Save the King…just.  Others at the Service sang like nightingales.

I spent much of the day packing. I had little energy to walk, although I did hit my target of 10,000 steps just before midnight C.E.T. (11pm over here!)  After dinner, I joined two ladies who were at the table, in the Royal Court Theatre for the last of the Cunard Show Nights, after which we said our farewells and parted company.  

Determined to maintain 10k steps per day up to midnight of the last full day, I ventured alone onto the almost deserted open decks, one last time.  I figured the distant lights on the starboard horizon must be France, those on the other side, England.  I think I got that the right way round.

I have been home since around 3.30 this afternoon.  The journey from Southampton was far more efficient and pleasant than I dared to hope. Five hours from Southampton on a Sunday with services disrupted by engineering works, I thought was impressive.

That concludes the account of part 1 of “1,000,000 Steps to the Other Side of the World and Back in support of Christian Aid Week 2023,” during which I averaged 11,431 steps, or 28.4 miles, having achieved 80,021 steps over the seven days of this voyage to South West Norway.

Thanks for reading, David  22.03, at home. Last paragraph amended, Tue 13th September.

As you will see from the photographs, the entire seven night voyage was blessed with the best possible weather, even today, the final full day before disembarkation.

I woke up after a decent sleep last night and once again, peeking through the curtains revealed yet another beautiful day. In fact, those from the U.K. dodged a bullet, as Britain was plunged into a week of much needed wet weather. Leaving Southampton a week ago, a lively thunderstorm could be seen from the aft-end of the ship, safely in the far distance.

I was about to write about our visit to Olden when news broke of the Queen’s unexpected (especially by me) passing, although I was vaguely aware that “things weren’t good.” Although only a small village, Olden is now a popular cruise destination, complete with souvenir and clothes shops, as well as places to eat.

Just like Skjolden is at the head of Lustrafjord, which branches off the Sognefjord, Olden is at the far end of Nordfjord, and offers a variety of attractive options. Two or three nights here (in decent weather) perhaps wouldn’t be enough time to explore thoroughly, and during summer, it is packed with visitors.

I was pleased with the tour I picked, Briksdal Glacier by Troll Car. You travel to an attractive café and tourist centre, The Briksdal Inn, by coach, through more fabulous dramatic scenery with lakes and waterfalls. Coffee and cake were part of the deal. We would then walk to where the “Troll Cars” were stationed, each seating perhaps nine people. Not so long ago, the journey up the steep mountain pass to the Briksdal Valley was in horse-drawn carriages. On arrival at the “terminal” a steep walk would take you to within sight of the Briksdal Glacier which flows 4,000ft down to the Briksdal Valley and lake of turquoise water below.

Again, although warned to dress up warm with waterproof jacket, the sun shone warmly, even so far north and high up.

Eventually, it was time to walk back to the Troll Cars for what would seem the short ride back to near where the coach was parked.

The little town of Olden afforded a joyous noisy send-off as 70s disco music blared out from a pub’s sound system which I couldn’t make out from my cabin. Unknown to anybody on board, I imagine that it was about that time that the news of the Queen’s death was about to become widely known. This was the last picture I took before hearing the news myself.

By now, we were on our way to our final port, Bergen, the very first place I visited abroad in August 1962. I shall write about that, maybe tomorrow.

Many thanks for reading, David, still in the middle of packing, 18.19 hrs, 10/9/22.

Saturday 10th September 2022

It can be done.

It never occurred to me, for one moment, that when celebrating the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee on board Cunard’s Queen Elizabeth in June 2022, I would be on board Flagship of the Merchant Navy. R.M.S. Queen Mary 2, at the time of the death of H.M. Queen Elizabeth II.

I was astonished how quickly the Senior Officers, probably, and others responded to this, even now, unexpected event. It’s hard to gauge the mood of the passengers. We were in an area so famous for wet and miserable weather. This cruise to Norway, however, was blessed with the best climate possible, even traversing the North Sea in both directions.

I have to leave continuing to write about this lovely voyage to a different day; I have made several unsuccessful attempts.

Today, at the Inter-demoninational Church Service In Remembrance of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, it felt strange singing God Save the King for the first time.

I took photos…I had to.

This time tomorrow, I may be stranded somewhere between Southampton and Buxton, it’s a Sunday and I doubt the trains will be at their best.

Thanks for reading, David, 13.22 in the middle of packing!