Southern Italy Part III

Finding the bus stop was my first challenge of the day. I had set my self an ambitious itinerary of climbing Vesuvius in the morning and wandering about in the glamour of Positano in the afternoon. After my limited mobility the previous day, I had to compress my travel plans a tad to fit it all in. So, here I was outside the ruins of Pompei trying to find the right stop for the bus to Vesuvius. It was early… even the tourist market selling dodgy copies of ancient artefacts (yes, I bought one) next door was still closed.

Finally I deduced that the one bus stop with absolutely no signage must be the one that I wanted, and shortly along trundled the bus I wanted.

50 minutes later after a rather dramatic mountain road I was standing in the carpark for a volcano. This was a novel prospect for me. I have never set foot on a volcano and was looking forward to dramatic vents pouring forth steam and gas and bubbling pool of lava. Alas it was not to be. Vesuvius is a very civilised and considerate volcano (well, the day I was there it was anyway). I hiked up the steep by well-graded path spiralling around the cone, the temperature plummeted and wind rose. There is not a tree, shrub or blade of grass growing on the mountain side once you get above the car park. The mountain’s sides are crumbing red gravel which can give the volcano a rather fetching glow in the afternoon sun.

I was ahead of the larger tour groups and upon reaching the crater rim looked down into a dramatic, but by no mean menacing looking, hole. The view into the crater – without steam, gases and lava – is out done by the sweeping panorama when you turn around. The view from the Sorrento Peninsular, with Capri at it tip, right up the Bay of Naples to the city of Naples is breathtaking. The Island of Ischia floats out in the bay and the ferries speed across the blue waters with long white foamy tails trailing behind. I could have gazed at it for hours… but it was rather cold! … and I had an appointment with the Amalfi Coast.

My hike down the mountain was swift and, thankfully, warming. Back on my bus it was back on the bus it was back to Pompei, back to St Agnello for a quick change into something more stylish than the daggy sweater I was wearing, and off to the Amalfi Coast and the rich and famous…

The road is incredible; clinging to the cliff-sides and sweeping around the coastline, it seems far too narrow for traffic to pass safely, let alone at 50 miles and hour. One thing that will not wear out on the buses of the Amalfi Coast are the brakes, they are never used! Although the first bus I was on did have a small malfunction with its gearbox, and a bus load of people were cast out onto the roadside in a small hillside village while we awaited the arrival of a replacement bus. It was a rather nice day to be stuck in the middle of nowhere… especially Italian nowhere.

Eventually the alternate transport arrived and I was on my way again towards Positano. Famed for its beautiful location and as a playground for the rich and famous Positano definitely lives up to the hype. Nestled into a steep hillside, the town seems to tumble down into the azure water below.

The streets of the town are lined with classy shops selling designer clothes, art, ceramics and anything made from lemon you can think of – the most famous product of course being Lemoncelo the local lemon liqueur which makes for a tasty but rather potent after dinner aperitif.

The anchor for the town, beside the beach, at the foot of the hill, is the church of St Maria Assunta. Its dome, covered in green and gold majolica tiles, is visible from high above on the road into the town and can be seen as you twist and turn through the narrow lanes and stairs as you descend through the town.

Passing right through the town, I wandered along the coast path toward the beach of Fornillo. My guidebook had recommended the terrace of Hotel Pupetto as a great place to eat and drink and take in the view. Arriving at 3pm, I was a little past lunch, but the staff very kindly offered to make me a tomato and mozzarella salad and serve me a beer while I looked at the rather splendid view. The beach was nothing to write home about – mostly pebbles and dark sand – but the view along the spectacularly rocky coast with the bluest of water foaming at cliff bases was incredible. I confess I probably spent more time lounging over my late lunch than I should have, to the detriment of my exploration of Positano. But in reality its not a big town and my walk up and down from the bus stop took me though a main part of it, and so I climbed the path back to the main road and joined the hordes waiting for the bus back to Sorrento.

Southern Italy Part II

Since my run of good weather seemed to be continuing I braved the hordes of overly primped and credit carded American youngsters on ‘Spring Break’ and crammed onto a ferry heading for Capri.

The ferry is rather fast and delivers you into Marina Grande on Capri about 25 minutes after leaving Sorrento. Happy to escape the diesel fumes of the ferries and chattering college students I took the Funicular up to the town of Capri, high above the harbour. My plan of action for the day was to get to Villa Jovis and the Blue Grotto and have a wander around the towns of Capri and Anacapri in between.

Villa Jovis (the House of Jupiter) was the party place of Emperor Tiberius during his years of self imposed exile on the Island. Stories of debauchery surround the site as do rumours that he used to cast those who displeased him from the cliff tops into the blue waters far below. It certainly seems a good place for a party. I was happy just to celebrate the achievement of actually making the walk up the hill! The Villa sits on the very top of the north-eastern point of the island and commands a panoramic view. The ruins are quite well preserved, but unfortunately lacked some decent information. There was the odd signboard telling you where you were, but unfortunately very little about what you were looking at… the view was very nice though…

The walk up and back to the Villa from Capri is delightful. It takes you along walled lanes between, what must be ridiculously expensive, white washed villas, lined with flowering trees framing views to the sea. As you descend back into Capri shops start to appear along side the lane with things or sale that were far beyond the means of my wallet… until eventually you end up in the piazza surrounded by people, watching people, watching people watch themselves. As all those people were in spectacular abundance I boarded a bus and headed for Anacapri.

The bus trip was an experience in itself… if you happen to take a bus on Capri; a tip from me… when travelling along the cliff top roads, don’t look down!

I clambered out in the middle of a piazza in Anacapri with 2 goals; to find lunch and to get to the Blue Grotto. Lunch I found in a local trattoria. I have a rather good Caprese Pizza (when on Rome so to speak…) and a beer and then made my way to the bus stop. From here things went a tiny bit pear shaped - Italian transport being what it is. The bus arrived on time, however the driver then got out, locked the bus and disappeared for what I can only guess was a lunch break. My fellow commuters and I looked around bemused as the timetable clearly said the bus was due to leave there and then. 25 minutes later the driver ambled back, unlocked the bus, we climbed aboard and we were off (Again… don’t look down!). So I was now running a tad late - I was booked on the 4:30 boat back to Sorrento and only had an hour. Alas it left me with too little time to join the queue to enter the Grotto.

A quick change of strategy and a look at the boats going in and out of the Grotto, I was on the bus back to Anacapri. My idea was to walk from Anacapri down to Marina Grande via the Pheonician Steps (better down than up I figured). I was right, it was better to go down the stairs, and yet… it still hurt!

I have no idea what the height of the stairs is and don’t really want to think about it…. but by the time I hit bottom my knees were a wreck. (If you look carefully at the picture you can see them zig zagging up the mountainside and the road structure cuts around about half way up). It was a pleasure to collapse into a seat on the ferry (again immersed in the inane babble of college students - this time with sun burn, which amused me no end) and dose until I was dumped back on the wharf in Sorrento.

The following morning lady at the station was very kind… she told me the last train from Naples to Sorrento was at 12:38pm - a little earlier than I had anticipated, but as it was Easter Sunday and a festival day there was not a lot I could do. I had a full day planned… a morning walk up Vesuvius and then the afternoon at Herculaneum. Well, the volcano would have to wait. Thankfully I had started early so the morning would be enough time to see my next lot of ruins.

The modern town of Ercolano is not place to loiter. It’s a working class town (to be polite about it) and I walked swiftly between the train station and the entrance to the excavations. The morning air was punctuated with explosions and fireworks, all part of the remarkable Italian Easter celebrations, and they gave the town a distinctly unsettled feel. I don’t think this is somewhere I would venture at night.

The ruins are worthy of the challenge though. Herculaneum is located in a large hole in the ground with the modern (and modern is a relative thing in Italy of course) town of Ercolano sitting precipitously around the rim. It’s a long way down - some 16 metres from the current street level to the lowest of the ancient streets below. Only a small portion of the site has been excavated. The proximity of the current town and the cost of digging has kept this site much more discreet than Pompei.

Herculaneum is a different prospect to Pompei which was buried by ash and pumice. Herculaneum was buried by pyroclastic flow which preserved the upper levels of many of the buildings.

I had a couple of hours to cover the site, and looking at the map… it should be about right. So, off I set with map and audio-guide. The audio-guides for Pompei and Herculaneum were great. I would recommend them. Both sites had proper walking, talking guides available for hire, but I wanted to see everything, not just a highlights tour and, listening in on some of the guides, I definitely got the better deal.

Architecturally, Herculaneum is probably the more interesting site. A lot more of the original detail is still in tact. Timber doors, walls and floors are present in many buildings and help bring the town to life and, as it is also much smaller than Pompei, it is a bit easier to digest and understand.

I managed to make it back up the road through Ercolano to the train station and onto the last train back…

Southern Italy Part I

A 6:50am flight from Heathrow means a very early start. London’s public transport network doesn’t really crank up until about 5am and the prospect of an hour on the Tube or a selection of Night Buses before dawn didn’t really appeal anyway. So I splashed out and took a cab.

Terminal 2 was a mess. Crowds of people were trying to check-in to Alitalia’s feeble 3 counters and I was stuck with them. On-line check-in was not working for my flights so I couldn’t bypass the queue despite only having carry on luggage. My crawl through T2 pretty much set the tone for my day’s travel. My flight was late leaving London and late arriving in Milan. My onward boarding pass to Naples could not be printed at Heathrow due to some computer glitch, so, I found myself in Milan airport, having to get to a check-in counter to get my boarding pass, face an unusually long queue of people waiting to get through security, and then high-tail it to what I am sure was the farthest departure gate in the airport, only to find my connection was delayed by 45 minutes – something which no monitor in the airport revealed except the one at the gate; and so my love affair with Italian transport began!

Thankfully my day (and whole trip) improved. Landing in Naples I exited the most archaic airport I have ever seen (it reminded me of watching my father arrive at Brisbane airport in the early 80s – planes parked on the tarmac, no aerobridges and a baggage reclaim hall straight out of 1975) into the bright sun of Southern Italy.

A 75 minute bus ride saw me standing on the side of the street in Sant. Agnello about a mile from Sorrento. A 5 minute walk later and I was at my hotel and, shortly after, opening the curtains in my room to reveal the looming bulk of Vesuvius across the Bay. It seems a bit of a cliché but it truly dominates the landscape wherever you are on, or around, the Bay of Naples.

I arrived having already decided what to see, but not when. The weather forecast had been average, with showers predicted for most of the weekend, so I was pleasantly surprised with the sunshine. I decided to take advantage and strike for Pompei the in the morning.

Pompei has its own train station on the Circumvesuviana Line to Sorrento - the line itself is another story, boring its way through the hills of the Sorrento peninsular - but I think a bit about Pompei…

Surprisingly, you enter the city from below. I always imagined a rather large hole in the ground full of crumbling ruins (which Herculaneum delivers quite nicely by the way) instead you find a city rising above you on a hilltop, which still holds a commanding position over the surrounding county-side. There is far too much to describe here. With only about 60% of the buildings shown on my guide map actually open to the public, it still took me a good 6 hours to work my way around the site …and those buildings open to the public are a miniscule percentage of the exposed city, some 60 or 70 buildings out of thousands (and that, of course, does not include the 50% of the city still under the ground patiently awaiting an archaeologist’s trowel).

The Villa of Mysteries is impressive. Located outside the old city it has been extensively restored and conserved. Its roof has been rebuilt and its famous frescos are still in place (in may parts of the city they were removed). It allows you to feel how a Roman Villa actually is to be in; the bright courtyards with their shady colonnades, the dark, cool inner rooms and the symmetry of an important Roman house. However I find it a little disturbing to walk over mosaic floors that are starting to crumble and break under the thousands of visiting feet every year, and very little apparent effort to halt the decay. It is an issue noticeable across the site. Contemporary graffiti is mixed with that of the ancient variety, carved into frescoed walls and soft stone. Clearly the task of protecting and conserving the site in enormous, but it still a pity to see.

The rest of the houses are inside the city walls and are packed in. The city is remarkably dense. The streets have no parks or gardens, the houses crowd right up to the roadway, which much have made for sweltering streets (and probably still does if you were to dare to visit in the heat of August!). It’s only once you get inside a house that you get greenery and some respite from the hard stone of the pavements.

The city has everything a self respecting Roman could want; an agreeable climate, close proximity to the Bay of Naples, a couple of theatres, a stadium, numerous temples, market places, baths and the odd brothel thrown in. Who could want anything more? Although maybe the imposing view of the nearby volcano was something they could have done without…

a 2 month summer

Landing in Sydney on a clear morning with the sun glinting off the Opera House, the traffic crawling across the Harbour Bridge, the water of Botany bay glittering as the plane descends, is a hard to beat; as good a way to arrive in Australia as any I should imagine.

My flight from Hong Kong had been quicker than expected and I had even managed a little sleep. I had arranged a day and half to explore Hong Kong and had loved every minute of it. I hadn’t set foot in the city since I was about 14 was very keen to reacquaint myself post ‘handover’.

I checked into a small but very nice hotel in Causeway Bay and immediately set out to explore the city. I took the MTR to Nathan Road on Kowloon side. I remember as a child, being in awe of the size, the shininess and bustle of the shopping centres in Hong Kong. The bustle was still there but the awe had gone. Maybe it was because the same centres can be found is any give suburb in Australia. But then, I hadn’t really gone to Hong Kong to shop. The afternoon was wearing on and I had a few things on the agenda, so I set off to walk to down Nathan Road to the harbour. The traffic, the thousands of people, the neon signs all make Nathan Road an incredible place to wander – even if the experience is somewhat like human pinball on the crowded pavements. The closer you get to the harbour the more salubrious Nathan Road gets. The hotels get bigger, and have more stars; the shops get more fashionable and turn from electronics to clothes; trees start to make an appearance and eventually you are standing beside the Hotel Peninsular and staring at where you think the harbour should be. Instead you see only the pink edifice that is the performing arts complex, a particularly 80s design that grinds slightly with grand Peninsular across the street.

Working my way through a maze of pedestrian subways (beaten in complexity only by the phenomenal underground labyrinth at Elephant and Castle in London) I made my way to the Star Ferry terminal for a quick trip across to Central on Hong Kong Island. The Star Ferry is a great way to see the city from harbour, and for a pittance. In 10 minutes the ferry cuts across the harbour amongst junks, pleasure craft, barges and flotsam and jetsam to dock in Central.

Living in London I get used to large number of cranes on the horizon, but the number in and around Central is enormous. Beside the ferry terminal alone was a reclamation site that must have had 20 or 30 cranes.

Walking around the mass of construction, I hiked up through the city to the Peak Tram. The sun was starting to set and I was keen to get to the top while there was still a little light. The trip up in the Peak Tram is great. It feels like you are being dragged up a wall. I had to stand on the trip up due to the crowds and found myself braced against a rail to maintain my footing. The Peak is now home to a rather large development with markets, restaurants, shops and of course, right at the very top, a viewing platform. As the light was fading I made my way up countless escalators to the top and found the city sprawling far below in the evening twilight. It was a cool night, but clear, and a perfect opportunity for photography as the daylight faded and the lights of the city came on.

The cool temperature on the Peak and a need to eat, forced me from the view and an hour later, at the recommendation of my hotel, found me strolling along Hollywood Road looking alternately at the menus of the restaurants and in the windows of the now closed antique shops. I settled on nice looking restaurant called Wagyu and found myself unintentionally in an establishment run by Australians. Dinner consisted of and Aussie beef pizza washed down with Chinese beer quite a decent combination in Hong Kong. I had intended to find a decent bar somewhere for a few quite beers – it was only about 8:30pm, but tiredness and the prospect of a very long day the next day – including an 8 hour flight to Australia - changed my mind.

I had arranged a tour for the morning. I had already been to the Peak and was planning to spend the afternoon in Stanley (both on the itinerary of most Hong Kong Island tours), so I chose a tour to the New Territories. It visited the Buddhist, Bamboo Temple (not made of bamboo anymore) a Wishing Tree, an ancient walled town and the Hong Kong China ‘border’. The view across to China from the lookout was most impressive. The city of Shenzhen sprawls into the distance in a white blur. Nice to know where all those Nike shoes come from!

I decided to take public transport to Stanley to visit the famous markets and have a look at the Hong Kong ‘Riviera’. The road is narrow and windy and steep and slightly disconcerting in a clapped out bus, but the views are beautiful. The palatial houses around Repulse Bay cling to the hillsides amongst tropical greenery. I did not remember this part of Hong Kong from my last visit and was surprised by the white sandy beaches and clean, clear, blue water. Stanley village sits amongst this greenery at the end of a small peninsular bordered on the sides by sandy beaches. The market was a nice place to stroll and was thankfully rather quite the day I was there, but it was a lot smaller than I expected. I bought a couple of small gifts before retracing my tracks back to Causeway Bay. It was time to head to the airport so I collected my baggage from the hotel and took the airport train…

…and the following morning I was marvelling at the beauty of the place as I landed in Sydney.

The short flight to Brisbane followed where I was met by the parents. It had been almost 6 months since I had seen them last in Istanbul of all places.

So, I was back home. Brisbane was hot and sunny. Brisbane was humid. Brisbane was unchanged. Sure it has a couple of tunnels now; the bones of a couple of new bridges over the river are in place; there are a few new high-rise in the city; and it has more water, but the place hasn’t really changed in a year, thankfully.

The 3 weeks leading up to Christmas were a delightful blur of social activities.

The primary of course being with the family; my parents, my brothers, my great aunt.

Margaret and Richard asked me to lunch. They are avid readers of this dodgy account of my life, having travelled a lot in the UK and Europe, and I was keen to catch up with them face to face. We spend a lovely afternoon, chatting, and dining on most excellent food, and I thank them wholeheartedly for their hospitality.

I had lunch with my former work-mates. A beery lunch the University’s campus club eating the same (slightly dodgy) food I had eaten with them on any give day during the 4 year I worked with them. The place didn’t seem to have changed too much despite some upheavals. By and large the same happy faces were still there, eager to laugh and have a good time.

My former boss and his wife asked me to dinner.

I managed, through some minor miracle, to get all my old school friends in one place at one time and spent a weekend on the Gold Coast with them. The weather was a tad blustery, but we made it to the beach, to the surf club and to numerous restaurants in Broadbeach.

Friend Helen (she happens to adore that reference – sorry Helen) dropped by after Christmas. It was great to catch up and look through some photos of Paris and Switzerland.

The 3 weeks after Christmas were a bit of a bonus - I ended up staying a little longer due to a paperwork delay with my visa. Despite having no plans for this period it seemed to pass in a flash.

I managed a couple of days away in Pottsville. Bruce and Joan had invited me down if I had the time, so I took them up on the offer. Pottsville is a lovely little seaside town; much smaller than a lot of the surrounding towns. It’s basically one small street, a bowls club and a caravan park on the river (I don’t even recall seeing a pub!). But the beach is miles of unspoilt white sand and rolling surf. The countryside around Pottsville is some of the most beautiful you will ever see. I spent an afternoon driving around - through Ocean Shores, Mullumbimby, Bangalow and Byron Bay. I had lunch In Byron, and wandered up along the path around Cape Byron, although I didn’t make it right up to the lighthouse, having parked a little too far away. So I drove back to Pottsville and the next day to Brisbane.

…and 2 days later the time finally came for me to come back. A job and a flat awaited me in London as hopefully does a lot more travelling in 2009.

back for the second

It was the first Australia Day in a long, long time that I did not have a drink! My flight landed at Heathrow at 5am - only 3 weeks late… not that I minded all that much. An extra 3 weeks in Brisbane had not been all that difficult to deal with; warm weather, sunny days and a lot of catching up with friends. London by comparison had been very cold while I was away -10 at one point. It was a barmy 4 degrees when I arrived, but the sun shone for my first 2 days back making for a rather pleasant welcome.

I spent my first, somewhat jetlagged, day wandering around the West End reacquainting myself with London. It was nice to be out and walking in the sun after a full day of flying. The pavements were almost free from people making for a pleasant stroll in a city were walking on any major street is normally a game of human pinball. One of the benefits of London in winter is the lack of tourists… to walk down Shaftsbury Avenue to Piccadilly Circus and not have to force your way through the hordes taking photos is a rare experience.

So, here we are at 2009… another year in London, another year to see a bit more of the world.

Swiss Air

I know, I know, it has been far too long since I have written here…

The basic truth of the matter is that since summer ended I have not been travelling quite so much and by default haven’t had to much to write about.

Of course I did get myself to Geneva last week…

I had decided not to go away again following a quick weekend in Barcelona for the sole purpose of catching the last of the summer sun and a long weekend in Ireland.
However… the prospect of some 12 weeks in London before heading back to Australia for a month in December turned out to be too long, so I found some cheap air-fares and sorted a weekend in Switzerland. Geneva probably would not have been my first choice, maybe Zurich or Lucern, but the price was right and it offered the benefit of Lake Geneva and the nearby town of Lausanne.

A couple of weeks before I left, my workmate Claudia decided she too would like to see Geneva so I had a travel buddy!

We flew out of London City airport, which is definitely London’s most convenient airport, and just over an hour later landed in Geneva. A quick bus ride and we were at our accommodation.
It is a very pretty place… a bit of a cross between the lakes of New Zealand’s south Island and the North Shore of Sydney Harbour and we were lucky enough to strike two sunny days. The first dawned hazy, so we couldn’t fully appreciate the views during the train trip around the lake to Lausanne.

Lausanne apparently started life as a Roman garrison town about the same time as London… The town sits on a long steep slope that rises away from the Lake and, as any good garrison should be, the old town is located at the top of the slope. That however, leaves you with the challenges of hiking up the cobbled streets from the train station. Well worth the struggle though. We gathered a map from the tourist office at the station and followed the marked trail through ancient markets, past the Cathedral, the Bishop’s Chateau and up and down narrow winding streets and stairs. Lausanne is not a huge town and an hour’s walk saw us back where we started, at the train station, and starting the walk down toward the lake in search of lunch (and maybe someone who could speak English! or even German - that being Claudia’s native language).

The lake shore in Lausanne is dominated by the yacht harbour and we settled into a cafe overlooking it to eat food we had ordered via sign language. Claudia ended up with a sweet crepe and I with a burger and fries (which was generally, if not exactly, what we had wanted). Thankfully the food was very good… must be the French influence!

Walking along the lake shore after lunch is a breathtaking experience… the view, even on a misty day was sensation, the water is crystal clear and the chateaux dotting the hills around the lake are picturesque.

Lausanne is home to the International Olympic Committee and the Olympic museum, sitting in a garden full of sculpture dedicated to Olympic sports, overlooks the lake.
Not really having time to go through the entire museum, we perused the gift shop, chatted to the group of Australians we met in the court yard (you can’t escape them!) and then wandered through the sculpture garden.

Despite having planned only a morning in Lausanne, it was 3pm by the time we got back to Geneva. Knowing the town would be pretty much closed on a Sunday, we took advantage of our remaining Saturday afternoon and headed into the city. The main shopping street was a hive of activity, but as it was like main streets everywhere (except, perhaps, more expensive) we walked up into the old town. Its streets are narrow, cobbled and lined with art galleries selling paintings you would only expect to see in a nation’s art collection… old master paintings, priced beyond comprehension, peered out from shops staffed by very stiff looking people, seated at baroque desks, talking on mobile phones… the galleries were interspersed with antique shops selling astronomically priced furniture and objets d’art, and decorator shops selling upholstery, fabrics and wallpapers. Basically the old town of Geneva is a ‘Home Base’ for the ultra-rich… well, I guess they have to shop somewhere…

Passing all of these shops without opening the wallet we wandered into a square, found a table outside and enjoyed the passing parade as we drank out pricey coffees… day 1 in Geneva was just about over and we had not been bankrupted yet!

Sunday dawned better than Sunday… sunny and less hazy – by the end of the day the air had cleared enough to see Mont Blanc across the Lake.

We had planed to do a tour of the United Nations, however, a slight lack of prior research and an inability to actually find the entrance, meant we missed the 10am tour. The next was at 2pm and was 2 hours long, finishing too late for flights back to London. We commiserated with a magnificent brunch at Perle du Lac on the lakefront in Parc Mon Repos, a ferry trip across to Port Noir and then a walk in the sun along the lake front back into the city. All-in-all a rather nice way to spend a sunny day! So sunny that I actually felt a little burnt by the end of the day… clearly I have been away from Australia too long if I can get sunburnt by the sun in Europe in October!!! I will blame the altitude…

Claudia’s flight left an 2 hours before mine, so we parted company at the train station at 3pm and I wandered along Quai du Mont Blanc, enjoyed the views of the Lake and yachts, and watched as the mist gradually cleared from the distant Mont Blanc. By 8pm I was back in London, waiting for the Docklands Light Rail at London City Airport and wondering where my weekend had gone!

down by the Riverside

Considering I was at Buckingham Palace a couple of months ago, it seemed logical to complete the local duo and visit Windsor Castle.

It is easy to get to via a slow train from Waterloo or a fast one from Victoria. Waterloo being closer to home I chose the slow train and 90 minutes later (to cover a 45 minute distance) I was disembarking at Windsor and Eton Riverside Station and started my stroll up the hill to the Castle.

The day wasn’t perfect… slightly overcast and coolish (the first hint of the approaching winter was in the air) but is wasn’t raining and the slightly drab scene suited the castle and kept the tourists away.

As with Buckingham Palace, the tour is via a very well presented audio guide and takes you through the various areas of the castle open to the public… the most spectacular are the state rooms, St George's Hall and semi-staterooms. The latter having been restored after the fire a few years ago.

An unexpected highlight (especially for a guy) is Queen Mary’s Dolls house. It is far from being a dolls house and is in effect a scale model of a 19th century mansion. The house is about 6 feet high and completely furnished, even containing miniature, original, paintings on the walls. It is fascinating, and requires a lot more the few minutes you have, looking at it!

The tour also takes in St George's Chapel with its most magnificent ceiling. Alas, like Buckingham Palace, the Queen was not at home when I visited. I am starting to feel she is avoiding me!