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One of our eagerly awaited trips from Quito was Lake Quilotoa. A water-filled crater lake, the most western volcano in the Ecuadorian Andes. For historians the caldera was formed by the collapse of this dacite volcano following a catastrophic VEI-6 eruption about 800 years ago. The dissolved minerals have created a shimmering aquamarine colour, far more dazzling that the described 'greenish colour' of the tourist literature. This was to be well worth the 'journey'. We had not been in South America long and this was to be one of our first 'Bus' adventures. This was not a luxury sleeper bus, of which we later grew to enjoy, but a standard bone shaker of a local bus designed merely to transport one, from one destination to another, with the minimalist of comfort. Indeed, each seat appeared predisposed to pick up the tremors of every loose stone in the road. It was apparent our Ecuadorian Conductor (driver) was a masterful navigator, using the stones in the road to dot to dot his way for four hours from Quito to Quilotoa. On arrival Quilotoa takes your breath away, literally, at 12,844 ft at it's highest point, like Quito everything seems harder to achieve. Once you have taken a moment to acclimate, you are presented with the privilege of parting with 2 whole US dollars each for entry, to the town. Having arrived late in the afternoon and the lake being a morning thing we headed for our accommodation. Budgeting for a 15 month trip, accommodation was to be basic and low cost. On this particular occasion basic appeared to be abandoned and desolate. Enter true 'idiotic' British philosophy, on my part admittedly, and the desire to sort one's own predicament. Having seen us approach this quiet empty hotel, the lady who politely collected our dollars came over from the town barrier to offer help. It's ok we can manage, 'we'll contact booking.com' oh my, the thought this lady would have heard of that was bizarre in itself, her gazed expression I possibly later deciphered as a comic gesture of 'contact how?' as of course there was no internet to be had in this remote mountain region of Ecuador. At least not for O2 anyhow, although it's recent acquisition by virgin appears to even have restricted coverage in Lancashire, another issue of course. Surprisingly the Dollar Lady persisted with her kind and helpful intentions and even offered us her house instead of the hotel. This we later found would have been a perfectly wonderful solution, however, having dug that British hole of self supportiveness this kind offer was declined, again lamentedly by my goodself. Perseverance being the character of our Dollar Lady, 10 minutes later she returned with a key for a room in the empty hotel, presumably having found the owner somewhere relaxing and enjoying some form of Peruvian juice? The room itself had 3 beds, a bonus for 3 travellers and a private bathroom, no thrills, no shower gel, shampoo or even toilet roll, luckily however, we were prepared for that. Our economically focused abode was decorated in white concrete, with an exceptionally cold concrete bathroom floor and a fixed open window we later surmised was to allow an atmosphere of Arctic freshness. Dollar Lady again to the rescue with a portable heater, delivered with that same sardonic smile that highlighted the madness of our folly, and an awareness in her eyes acknowledging the acts of the truly insane, albeit we were not to realise until the following morning. No TV, no Wifi, with just the joys of trying to get warm we decided an early night the best option, with the hope of a good breakfast somewhere to positively start our Quilotoa adventure. Last to the bathroom as always, toilet roll in hand I quicky washed in the icy water, then perused the frosty looking Throne and decided that that particular pleasure could wait. Knowing my wayfaring companions well, however, and the potential for cold-induced diuresis, I felt leaving the toilet tissue prominent was the least I could do, and this is where my nightmare began. There I am in the coldest latrine this side of the Arctic Ocean, and obviously not dressed for a polar expedition. No body heat trapping layers, no thick woolly hat or gloves, just my bed shorts and a frozen face already showing genuine signs of melancholy. Add to this my other frozen extremities (behave please), my fingers and toes, and I really am quite anxious to complete my simple self/inflicted assignment and go and find my very own Ecuadorian heavy duty, 'Itchy del Diablo' blanket! With one deep breath, the icy air biting at my throat, I reach for my pocket and with numb fingers retrieve the toilet roll I have so diligently carried through our first month in South America. With no feeling at all in my fingers and relying on sight alone, despair sets through my whole body as an horrific image materialises in front of me. The slightly squished cardboard housing with white wrap around tissue was now spiralling out of control before my very eyes. My prized possession that I had fastidiously guarded throughout Colombia was now rebelliously travelling on it's own path. A path with only one perceivable destination, a watery grave that would surely disrupt the hydrogen bonds holding the cellulose fibres together, thereby rendering my treasured tissue ineffectual. Borne across hundreds of miles for this purpose, at this most crucial and testing juncture of our journey so far, it descends towards the icy bowl of doom. Frantically my eyes communicate with my brain to send messages to my fingers to 'DO SOMETHING'. The phalanges and metacarpals are frozen stiff, and the subsequent 'doing' merely results in a Sealion-like flapping of the objects on the ends of my arms. Surely the noise is not really echoing through the building giving the impression I am clapping myself. This image is thankfully quick to recede, as one of my petrified limbs makes contact with the recalcitrant loo roll. As my juggling efforts begin my head fills with the sounds of 'entry of the gladiators', and the circus begins. Having never trained as a circus jester, despite what others may say, I am by no means a Harlequin, and my conjuring efforts, however full of intent were woefully futile and my loo roll now lay floating in the great porcelain lake of Acheroussia. During the aforementioned catastrophe only the smallest fraction of the clock had ticked by, though it felt like hours, now a recovery plan was needed. First, assess the situation. On retrieval from the bowl, as anticipated, the hydrogen bonds were no more, my formerly densely fibered tissue was a mass of soggy sheets perilously held together by who knows what. Second, breakdown the main goal to manageable tasks, recover roll, delicately squeeze out water, layout to dry. Half way there, action plan agreed and approved. Fortunately the recovery was remarkably easy and due to clear water (no yellow colouring) did not require the use of gloves. The predicament was of course exacerbated when plunging my already insensitive hands into the icy depths of the porcelain pond. I have to admit my next course of action would not identify me as the brightest crayon in the box, and would leave a feeling that the lift was falling someway short of the top floor! I carefully unwound the drenched roll and placed it in strips on the windowsill, yes the very same windowsill with the fixed open window. Now with the notion that hours had passed I steadied myself for the Kangeroo Court I felt destined to encounter and gently returned to the bedroom as if nothing had happened. My luck was in as all I could hear beneath the piles of wool on each of the other beds was a catlike purring (honest), synonymous with the peaceful slumbering sounds of my muliebrious companions. Proud of my quick thinking, lack of panic and self motivated desire for survival, I vanished into my own mountain blanket, and lay silent and immobile, until it felt safe to embrace the dreams of the night. These happy thoughts drifted in and out pleasantly, until the very early hours of the morning proved that not only was my blanket an inadequate supplier of warmth, it was and never would be soundproof. A shrill cry akin to that of a Banshee echoed across the plains and valleys of northern Ecuador. My seemingly flawless plan it transpired had a few, or particularly one, huge hole. My delicately placed rows of tissue sheets had frozen to the windowsill, and with the best will in the world were unusable. Now, in the state of the panic I was previously gratified to have avoided, I heard the words 'shake' and 'lettuce' emit from my now uncontrollable oral orifice. The alarm bells in my head at this vocal escape were only dampened by the second far more penetrating and haunting Banshee cry, confirming this was not an acceptable solution. I have always been a believer in the philosophy of fight or flight, however where a flight option is not available 'fight' or 'out of sight' ticks my self preservation box, and so before any physical recriminations were forth coming I hastened myself back to my skin prickling woolly den and battened down my hatches until morning. Morning announced itself not with the sound of Cockerels or the bleating of Llamas, as they were surely still asleep in their cosy fur, but with the most spectacular of sunrises. Enough to warm any potentially frosty atmosphere. A new day dawned and with the shenanigans of last night 'almost' forgotten it was time to source breakfast. The breakfast that came with the empty and abandoned hotel? Surprisingly on inspection breakfast was detailed and confirmed to be in a separate hotel, just a couple of hundred yards away. We speculated a friendly reception and rather than leave our backpacks to freeze we departed our icebox with hopeful hearts that they would be safe with the makers of our morning sustenance. We had not ventured far at all before welcoming lights in a window beckoned us nearer, and we had found our source of breakfast. We entered and immediately were immersed in the heat of the room. A glowing fire in the corner was supplemented with a huge heater in the middle of the room. Wine racks on the walls, colourful lamps and cosy settees bedecked this comfortable palace. Oh how we wished we had stayed the night here, at which point our host arrived and the previous nights humbling experience with the toilet roll paled into insignificance, as there in front of us with a bright smiling face was the Dollar Lady, this was HER house!!! Breakfasted, happy and ready for the day we strolled through the empty village in what was becoming an increasingly warm sunny day. The horrors of the previous night were long forgotten once the lake came into view. There is a walk around the perimeter of the lake and also a path down to it's shores. This is however a challenging walk of say an hour down and a couple of hours back up. Not for us, we enjoyed a relaxing sit on the bank with a little wander along the topside. If you are visiting Ecuador and Quito in particular Lake Quilotoa is definitely worth a visit, just pick your times and accommodation carefully, and prepare yourself for a tricky bus ride.

This trip started with a longing to hire a motorhome for a week during the Easter Break but ended with a very pleasant short break instead, in Majorca. How? Truth is, I wasn`t entirely sure I liked the motorhome we were offered, nor the short time that it was available to us, especially at half term when a certain little B could tag along on any trip. Wanting to think about options, I idly said, I bet we can`t get decent flight prices being half term, checked and found out for a change that I could! With Mr B needed at home, it was on his suggestion that little B and I flew out on Easter Monday, and that he and Daddy B would join us two days later. Great Plan. Little B and I went by train to the airport, such an easy option. Helped of course by a late flight. All went well, even at the airport when our taxi driver was the spit of `Pieta` from Taken (taxi`s are so damned expensive) we just looked at each other, decided we definitely were not his type and hopped in. We arrived at our boutique adults only hotel, got checked in wink wink, by a lovely, wink wink, receptionist, wink wink, who took our passports wink wink, advised us of a lovely town wink wink, and to our room we went. He may just have been being very friendly, but goodness me, he made me cringe with all his winking! Wink at little B all you like Mr, but I`m old enough to be your mum! Our first day was a lovely warm blue sky day, and the chance to relax by the pool, read and do nothing was much needed. We both got rather fried, decided to eat in our room rather than go out venturing, then found out the nearest supermarket sold nothing resembling real food. Plenty if you had a bowl, microwave, or pan or plate but not a lot else. Little B was tasked with inventing, and came back with two perfectly nice potato salads, cereal bars and chocolate. Netflix on the kindle fire, and two happy bunnies ended their first day. The room. I really need to talk about the room. For a `boutique` hotel, this had to be designed by an amateur. Yes, we had a pool view, if you looked to the right of the car park. Both bunnies could see the pool at the same time, one from the balcony, the other from the shower. Curious? The balcony, with its lovely (not) pebbly rocky uneven floor had two chairs, table and a window. Through the window, not visible from the outside, was the shower room. Who in their right minds puts the shower room on the balcony!? I could see little B, she could not see me, we could both see the pool and car park. As for the rest of the bathroom area, two sinks side by side, no door, no wall, just two large double sided mirrors with gaps between. Double sided mirrors?, sure, why the heck would you not want to see yourself climbing out of bed first thing in a morning. At least the loo was private. Still not a lockable door, and the walls were glass, opaque glass, but still glass. Day three, and the day that the boy bunnies would be arriving. They too were on a late flight. Little B and I decided to go to Valdemossa. This was the nearby town that winky boy had recommended. Bus to Palma, bus to Valdemossa. Easy. The first part was easy, the bus arrived on time, we got off, the bus we wanted sailed past us as we waited to cross the road to get to it, then the waiting started. Turns out the long wait was quite pleasant, helped by a lovely chat with a guy called Fabian from Germany. I noted he had a Thailand Elephant tattoo on his arm, and a conversation started from that. After an hour and two full buses passing us later, it was clear that the only way we were going to get to our destination was by taxi. We shared the cost, and got to our little town soon after. Valdemossa is a very pretty little town, and very much a tourist trap. It really is a double edged sword of not liking tourists, whilst being one myself. Its the same the world over, we congregate as tourists in the nicest of places (where locals live), then swarm around their town. Tourism brings in money, but does it really mean that we want to see an endless array of coffee shops (yes lol) but surely not the cheap tacky TS shops? Do we still live in a world where plates depicting `I love Majorca` are a thing of beauty or need? Do we need endless naff, and lets admit it, butt cheeks? tits? gaudy oversized magnets in garish colours are naff. Surely these are tacky in anyone`s world. A recent hotel in Lisbon asked for people to bring a fridge magnet from their hometown, granted Manchester was the closest I could find, but almost all the others on the fridge were both pleasant on the eye and tasteful. My mum collected fridge magnets, and I think she must have found them a bit of an eyesore herself because hers were hidden behind a cupboard door, to be admired and reflected on in private, or if she wanted to recall if they had been to a certain place or not, but they were definitely not on display. A few years later, with her fridge magnets now stored in the loft, we both started to collect pin badges, tiny cute reminders of places visited. Finding the nicest of pin badges was my mums forte, no matter how hard I look for nice ones, my mum always found one better. I have diverted, back to Valdemossa. A town in the hills directly north of Palma. Not on the coast, but slightly inland, a maze of narrow winding streets of warm stone walls, steep hills, painted dark green shutters, door signs of tiles with the same religious picture and text. Very few cars, and an aura of peace. With beautiful scenic views of the valley, this small town is just so pretty, and old. A whole lot of coffee shops to be found, with equal amounts of other tourist shops. Little B after months of searching, found the most gorgeous pair of beige shorts in one of the nicest little shops, a shop that was so warm, yet had a heater tucked away in a corner. I just had to ask `when do you ever need a heater`? "last week!" she laughed, "I have never been so cold". I guess we struck lucky with the week we chose. Our wanderings complete and shopping done, it was our turn to avail ourselves of one of the many coffee shops. We chose one with a courtyard garden, and relaxed with what has to be the nicest slice of cheesecake either of us had ever had, homemade lemonade and a pot of tea, well, we are English :-) It was actually the delicious cake that made Little B ask, "do you think Daddy B and Gpa would like to come back to this town, maybe we could hire a car..... Leaving Valdemossa by bus was a bit of a challenge and quite frankly a poor showing of courtesy. Actual pushing, shoving and angry words, to get on a bus, not by us I hasten to add, the people at the front of the bus line. It was ridiculous, and with a bit of hindsight and forethought by the bus company, totally avoidable. The bus stop area is vague. Where to queue or line up, the same. With people waiting in line in both directions of the bus stop, naturally everyone at the head of the queue thought they had a right to board the bus first. Bus arrives, doors open, chaos ensued. Majorca, you need to clearly mark the floors, put on more buses, and train your drivers to be just a little more firm, and polite I may add. Aimed at the driver who screamed, No, get the next one, after we had already waited for, and missed three prior due to being full. We ate that night at the nearby lovely cafe Mozart a short bunny hop from the hotel. A cafe that would serve us all well for the remaining few nights of our break. The Boys Arrive. They too wanted a day of rest, and as the sun was still shining bright, not a problem. We paused for a few hours then headed down to the harbour. Winky had already warned us in advance that it was a very, very expensive place to be. He was not wrong. An in your face visual sign of how surplus wealth is squandered, or as I personally think, wasted. A marina full of multi million pound yachts just sat doing nothing. Same in every marina around the world I would assume, but seeing so many in one place is shameful. I must be getting cynical as I age, but having seen far too many homeless people, people living in poor conditions, many others just getting by, yet here sits a flotilla of multi million pound playboy yachts designed for the pleasure of a few, just now and again, is money that could have been used to better humanity. As for the numerous Porsches, Mercedes and even a Ferrari and an Aston Martin parked up, this is Majorca! a small island! Why the heck do you need that posing car to drive just a few miles? Bonkers . Just saying. With the idea that a car to tour the island was a good idea, Mr B duly hired us, a bus. He wanted something comfortable for the four of us, and got landed with a car the size of a chelsea tractor. Yes it was comfortable, but with hindsight, far too big for the small Island roads of Majorca. We knew already that Valdemossa was going to be busy, so we headed there first thing in the morning, and nabbed one of the few available parking spaces. We wandered the town once more, and again we sampled that cheesecake, the whole reason we went back so willingly to that town. From there we headed to Deia just a few miles away from the town of Valldemossa, but given the fact that it was now past one o`clock, the chance of a parking spot was long gone. Looking a lot like a smaller Valldemossa, we cut our losses and moved on to the next town, Soller. Here we managed to find an out of town parking area, duly parked up and heading on foot into the town. A first it appeared that the town was closed, but we pressed on and reached the town centre and the busiest little square in front of a large church. A glorious array of colourful artisan type stalls, with a lot of orange. Not just orange the fruit, but the colour orange was everywhere. The best selling dessert here is the Orange Ice Cream, naturally little B sampled it, but having had one taste this bunny decided that one taste contained enough bits of peel to last the whole day. The highlight of the day was watching the little train wend its way through the town. I would imagine that once upon a time this was an essential route for access to nearby Palma, but the trains I saw seemed to be clogged with an army of tourists armed with phones taking selfies. I wonder if come Winter, the locals breathe a sigh of relief? ditto the world over. The next day we decided to head, under the skilled and practised guidance of our personal tour organiser, aka Little B, to the far east of the Island and the area around Pollenca, the port of, and the areas around Alcudia. The drive itself was lovely, we dodged a few road lice here and there on the first part of the journey, but then they started to breed. Oh dear Lor, are they the most selfish, inconsiderate, road users of all time! Bloody bike riders. I used to love a good bike ride, but I like to think that I showed a sense of awareness and courtesy. These modern day bike riding pedal pushers in their silly, sweaty, tight lyra outfits are nothing short of a damn nuisance. Riding two abreast up the steepest hills at 3miles per hour, totally not giving a rats ass about the queue of 500 cars trying to pass and continue their own journeys at a slightly less ridiculously slow speed, these sodding road lice plough on regardless like they own the whole damn road. I thoroughly admire the fitness of a bike rider, it truly is impressive at times, but for goodness sake guys, pull over now and again, watching your cute asses works for a while, but even the sight of good looking backside gets tiring after a while. The deeper into the Pollenca headland we got, the more the lice bred. Alcudia was a little better, we are out of season, but it was clear to see why this place is a firm favourite as a family friendly destination. Anyone with squawkers wanting a nice beach and shallow warm waters, Alcudia ticks boxes. Our last day started wet. It remained wet and rainy all day. We had the briefest moments when the weather hinted at behaving, but mostly, we got wet. The plan today was to check out the nearby towns of Palma Nova and Magaluf, then head into the city of Palma. I first came to Majorca as a child, and have been several times since as a young adult. Only in the latter years have I heard that Magaluf has been given a new nickname, Shagamuff. Referring I assume to the 18-25s party goers looking for sun, sangria and s s s sightseeing! (not) Another Ibiza, or Benidorm I presumed. We did not drive too far into the town before the evidence presented itself. Like Benidorm, a town I unashamedly describe as cheap and tacky, the same disgusting tat can be found here. A far cry from the upmarket town of Portal Nous where we were staying, here you rapidly descend into British Bars, Karaoke, Full English Breakfast (why?) and foul t shirts branded with slogans such as I Love ..xxx.....well, anything sexual that has four letters. One drive through was sufficient to know this would not be an area of Majorca that any of the bunnies would choose to stay. Just out of Magaluf is the Pirate Dinner Adventure, I cannot begin to think how old this show is now, given that I took little B when she was around 5 years old. Palma, and it beautiful Cathedral and highlight of the town. What is it like? Well my friends, I have no idea. We put off visiting Palma until the end of our trip with a view to spending the whole day there. First of all it rained, hard. Second, we had nothing waterproof, and third, the Cathedral, open every day, except..ta da...Sundays! three guesses what day we were there. With our day gone to pot, we cut our losses and went for lunch instead. Three bunnies had a very nice lunch, with Mr `il just have half a grapefruit` opting for a cheap coffee and a croissant. Deciding we may as well spend the extra time at the warm air conditioned airport, we dropped off our big bus, and headed for the airport early. Majorca, away from the tourist hot spots, you are one very lovely, pretty Island. Would we return? Yes, out of season, and somewhere quiet, I think we would. Thank you for your hospitality.

Why Lisbon, and why so soon after Egypt? Glitches and goofs, that`s why! For reasons unknown we flew to Egypt via Heathrow. We booked flights from Manchester to Heathrow to pick up the flight for the prebooked holiday, yet we somehow forgot to purchase return flights from Heathrow home. With no actual desire to rush home, and flights from Heathrow to Manchester a very expensive £200 plus, we decided we could probably fly elsewhere for less, getting our return to Manchester that way. A quick look on skyscanner and Lisbon came up as our cheapest option. Granted we had to pay for our accommodation, but even with that, it still felt more acceptable than paying for an overpriced flight home. Lisbon. A city we been to before, and saw quite a lot of, therefore this trip would very much be a rest and relax kind of stopover. We did revisit the Aquarium, which second time around seemed much smaller, and from the Aquarium we had a coffee break, tea for Mrs B served in the biggest mug ever, and it was onto the cable car. Just a short ride, there and back along the sea front. We did wander to see something called Owls (something like that) which turned out to be the dirtiest grubby under bridge wall art `things`. A couple of days we simply relaxed, played cards, read our books and recharged tired batteries. Unfortunately Mrs B seemed to have picked up a nasty chest infection probably from the elderly person sat behind me on the flight in who appeared to have zero consideration for anyone else as they coughed far, wide and often. Not a handkerchief or mask in sight. Whilst I hate the darn things, there are the rare occasions where certain people should wear them! We dined once or twice at the very excellent Time Out Food Market, and if feeling better, Mrs Bunny would most definitely have sampled some of the very delicious sweet offerings. On our last day we decided to get ourselves tickets to the Zoo. We always enjoy the peace of a nice Zoo, and the one in Lisbon had some nice reports. Website `No more available tickets for today`. Get Your Guide ` Tickets unavailable for Friday th February` Mr Bunny was very disappointed, so we took a cab there regardless in the hope that maybe we could buy a last minute ticket on the gate. So glad we made that decision, the Zoo was empty! Give or take a couple of families we very much had the place to ourselves. We came to the conclusion that whilst the Zoo had some nice enclosures, animals that appeared loved and cared for, this is a Zoo that requires some tlc. No doubt they are still feeling the pinch from Covid years, so if anyone fancies a cute little Zoo, give Lisbon a go. Help out the animals. Just a short stay this time, a b&b room with all the appeal of a hospital side ward and a bonkers exterior bathroom, a sink at knee height? really! Flight home day. We checked out at 11 as you do, with a taxi booked for 1pm. Naturally after a week of overcast, the sun just had to make an appearance as we were leaving. Shame to sit in Time Out as planned, so spotting a table for four, in the sun, and only occupied by a singular very attractive woman, we asked if we could join her. Please do! was the reply, absolutely not said the waiter, we do not allow table sharing, do you know this lady? "Miguel, Miguel, these are my friends, I have been waiting for them" This lovely lady, lying through her teeth proceeded to quickly order drinks for us, bottled water with lemon and ice gabbled away to us as though we had been friends for years, not seconds. Naturally we quickly introduced ourselves to her, and delighted to say, spent a very pleasant hour in the sun, in her company. Whoever you are, we Thank you. (sorry Miguel) One little titbit about Lisbon. Its hilly. Very, very hilly.

Esna we sailed a long way to reach Esna, and very pleasant it was too. No early start, just a leisurely breakfast followed by a day of sailing. Our enthusiasm for all things Temple not even waning in the slightest, we were keen to see our next ancient delight. Walking distance from the boat we were told. In the middle of the town. Easy to see how this particular temple could have been lost quite literally to the sands of time, it stood as it was below the level of the surrounding town houses. A large excavated area, a lot of masonry, a temple almost obscured by scaffolding. First thoughts? old ruin, rebuilt, preservation in progress? Not far off, until you go inside, and yep, they did it again! Quite honestly my love of the Sistine Chapel and the skill of Michaelangelo went poof, ha! amateur ! Our first temple with a mass of stunning colours, the blue especially, a colour so rich even Dulux would be hard pressed to compete. And yet more hieroglyphs, but these were on a ceiling so high you were craning your neck to see them all. The very lovely Mish Mish, a mine of information, lost me yet again, as my ears closed and my eyes opened as I wandered this simple, but stunning temple. A lot of these glyphs were devoted to the solar system and the signs of the zodiac. Within our group of six, and including Mish Mish, we were each able to see our own star sign. Obviously Sagittarius was the nicest, but every sign was portrayed. Day 5. The Valley of the Kings and Queens. From the days of the first burial this area has remained unchanged. A rough hewn sandy oversized quarry of high walls and rocky sandy floor. Nothing whatsoever remarkable about this whole valley, until you pass through a selection of random steel doors dotted here and there into the tombs beyond. To stand at the entrance to the Valley of the Kings, all you see are little doorways dotted about. No fantastical entrances, no sign posts, no pillars or statues of grandeur, just a `scruffy` unloved looking valley. I would assume therefore this is the reason that in later centuries, after the initial pillaging of early grave robbers, this place could easily have been overlooked. However it was behind one of these unassuming rocky entrances, carefully placed above another tomb entrance, that the greatest treasure ever known to man, was found. The tomb of Tutankhamun. With his treasures safely tucked away in the new Cairo museum, his tomb is one of the many you can visit. Your visit to the Valley of the Kings includes specific tombs, they are carefully rotating the tombs access so that no one tomb takes too much foot traffic and heavy breathing. Tutankhamun was a separate ticket, and as the tomb was described to us as small, stuffy and claustrophobic, it was not high on our list of must sees, we had after all seen all his treasures including the mask at the museum. Whilst I was not disappointed by the Valley of the Kings, how can anyone be disappointed by anywhere so incredible, I really did feel that it was a little, `see one tomb and you have seen them all`. Go and see one by all means, go armed with the knowledge that there will always be a little something blocked off, but hand your phone to one of the ever so willing `guides` they will happily take a large selection of photos for you, for a tip, naturally. Ditto outside, or any temple for that matter. Wherever you are, there is always a convenient guide or security guide, happy to take your money in exchange for a few photos. They know full well its a friendly `scam` a bit of a hustle, as often they will say ` saving your money?` or `all tipped out?` or similar. Its up to you, your phone is safe enough, the photos are full length happy memories for you, not just a selfie and they earn a few pence. Valley of the Queens. Am I allowed to say, same same and different? smaller tombs, a little less impressive? My only `another tomb` happy to leave now, experience on the whole trip. The Tomb of Hatshepsut so pristine it almost looks newly built. In another Valley of rough hewn stone walls, unmade surfaces and rock strewn sandy floors, there stands this gloriously stunning, precise looking structure with its back to the valley. A perfect contrast of textures. With walls so perfectly smooth, carefully laid stone bricks, and perfect stone columns, this stunning temple looks like it was built entirely in the wrong place, which of course, being Egyptian it was not. I could tell you the story of Hatshepsut, but I wont....Go to the temple. Stand in wonder, and learn her story for yourself. What I will confess is that I wrote my mums name on a piece of paper, and stuffed it deep inside a wall of the temple. One day maybe someone will find my paper and wonder who the heck ET was, but that`s for me to know. A Queen of my heart, lying with a queen of Egypt. Our last tour today, one that for its very nature had me cringing at the blatant lets put on a show for the gullible tourist act, was a visit to an alabaster/marble shop. Met by a guy outside with a hunk of stone ,a hammer, chisel and wheel. Let me show you how we chip the stone ` Chip the Stone` chorused the seated men. Look at how the marble glows `Glows, ooooo` another chorus. You get the picture. One `teacher` 6 `students` all aimlessly bashing away at pieces of marble paying no attention whatsoever to what they were doing, repeating random words, to tourists. Guys, this is the 21st century, not ancient Egypt, please don`t try and humour me that the 1000s of pieces in your store are all `handmade`. Call me cynical, but I just don`t buy in to it. But, guess what? Hot drinks and clean loos! Day 6. Luxor Temple and the Temple of Karnak. without a doubt, the largest set of temples of our tour to date, and infinitely the busiest. With Luxor and Karnak available as day trips from Hurghada, this was always destined to be busy. A short drive away, we were taken in our little bunny bus first to the Temple of Karnak. As per every other amazing sight on our tour, this was yet another Temple with a wow factor. After a week of jaw dropping, stupendous, breath taking sights, I am actually at a loss as to how I could describe this temple any differently. The same actually for the Temple of Karnak a week of sightseeing, and I am still so excited by yet another temple. Here in Luxor you also find the Avenue of Sphynxes, all 1060 of them. Not all intact, in fact for the most part just the bases remain. 1060! even the number is just crazy. 1060 sphynx type statues, all hand carved. Egypt, you do not disappoint. Our tour has come to an end, and I for one am very sad. This was the most wonderful trip we have done in a long time. We had the best small group anyone could hope for. Our guys in Cairo were equally lovely, and our guide Mish Mish exceptional. The boat was stylish and comfortable, the food lovely, puddings so yummy, and cups of tea to rival any British tea house. Exceptional staff hospitality. Tiring? Yes, very much so. As for the Nile itself? Very, very clean. Personally I wouldn`t swim in it, but with few exceptions, the river itself was clean, rubbish free, oil free and relaxing. Our last boat tour was Halong Bay, Vietnam, quite frankly the most disgusting rubbish filled stretch of water we have encountered thus far. The Nile? Allowing for pockets of wind blown trash, was a sailors delight. Egypt, hassle aside, you have been a delight to visit. Thank you for your kind hospitality. We will return.

Not every trip needs to involve a flight, and this time we decided to stay in the UK and take Daddy Bunny to visit a few places of interest around London and South of England that he has always wanted to see. Day One, to Stratford upon Avon and the home of Shakespeare. We only had a few hours to spare before needing to check into our hotel, so we wandered the old town of Stratford, just looking at the old buildings that still stand to this day from the time of Shakespeare himself. There are several museums we could have gone in, but personally we didn`t feel the need to pay the quite expensive entry fees. The town itself is interesting enough. We found the little market that sold some rather yummy marshmallow fluff in a jar, and Mr B took a shine to some pitted olives. Big B prefers to just look, but not spend. Warwick Castle. A short drive away stands the magnificent and interesting Warwick Castle. This castle with its very central location in the heart of England, has changed hands many times, been visited by some fairly impressive Kings of England including Henry VIII and has undergone some extensive changes over time. Well worth a visit, and if time allows, go and take a look at the Bird Show. Despite its lack of seating the show itself earns brownie points for effort, even if Chunky Owl, (sorry Mr Owl, your actual species I have forgotten, but your character I have not) chose not to behave. For the brave at heart there are dungeons for an added entry fee, no idea what they house, as brave I am not. The wax figures portraying life at the Castle were excellent, very lifelike making the exhibits feel more realistic, rather than the awful plastic dummies you see at some places. With food prices a little too tasty for comfort, a self made picnic would have been a good call. For anyone with a head for heights, (non of us do) you can climb up, and walk along two sections of the castle walls. To access the highest point however, you need not to suffer claustrophobia as that first tower climb is a continual tight spiral staircase. British Motor Museum. I didn`t think for one moment this museum would hold any interest for this Bunny, but it was actually very good. I have no idea where that museum found all the oldest ones, but there were cars on display going back to 1900. It was very interesting seeing how cars have changed over the years without us realising. Think back, when was the last time you saw a Sierra? Or a Mondeo? Not just cars either. We all found the old touring caravan a revelation. Land Rover. A 20 minute video showing the ever evolving Land Rover, Range Rover, Freelander and the list goes on. I always thought of them as Chelsea Tractors or Farmers field cars, quite impressive what goes on under the chassis or bonnet. Not a car I will take for granted anymore. Still think the wrong people drive them for the wrong reasons, but driven for a purpose? Yes, I get it now. There is also an overflow museum, less interesting I thought, but still housing a vast amount of cars, again many of which I had forgotten about. Old shaped Astra anyone? Blenheim Palace. Being the place where Sir Winston Churchill was born, this beautiful Palace was high on all our bucket lists of places to visit, I`ve seen it before, and was looking forward to seeing it again, the huge magnificent front facade with its.... What!! Wait!! Who put that scaffolding there!!!! Oh the disappointment!. Unbeknown to me when I booked, though it would be fair to admit that I failed to read any small print, and it may have been a p.s. I missed, but the Palace is in the throes of having a brand new roof fitted. Initially we were very disappointed, but the Palace clearly have the interests of the paying public in mind, and with hindsight, built that scaffolding to incorporate steps up to a large public viewing platform. How many people can say that have looked down on both the Palace, and its grounds? Even inside, they have reproduced the interior ceilings and walls with printed murals of same, so well reproduced that I had to look twice to realise I was looking at canvas, not the real thing. Apologies, but by the time this blog is published, the platform will have been taken down as stage two of the roof project starts elsewhere. London. Here for one reason only. To see the superb stage show, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Like myself, Daddy B has read all the books, and seen the films. Mr B has only watched the films, so has no clue at all as to who for eg Winky is...lol. Mrs Bunny has read all the books several (hundred) times each, and has longed for the day to see the stage show once more. Ironically this 2 part stage show will be changing to a singular show from September onwards, a little sad I think, as there are not a lot of scenes that feel particularly unnecessary. The show, about which I am going to say very little, you need to see for yourself, was very much enjoyed by all. The audience behaved, and were very quiet, and the show, which I swear is very different to the first time I saw it, was just superb. Accommodation in London is scarily expensive, so we stay at Watford, this time at the perfectly located Travelodge Watford Central, 5 mins into town, 15 mins to the railway station. From hotel to Show in less than 90 mins and around £15 pp. Not too shabby for London I thought. Staying on the Harry Potter theme, the next day we went to the Studios. the Making of Harry Potter films. We love the film sets, the details, the changes to each visit. This time they had adapted the main Hall to depict the scenes from Goblet of Fire, in particular the scene where the Weasley brothers throw fireworks. Gringotts bank is just so impressive. The disney fans in us wanted to `turn right` at the top, ifykyk, ....but we didn`t, instead we waited for the dragon. We dug deep into our pockets to share a butterbeer ice cream, share being a good choice, far too expensive otherwise. The whole studio experience is excellent, and the staff well informed and helpful, everywhere except here at the Butterbeer stand. I try not to critisise people, as I firmly believe everyone tries hard, but the girl who served me? Not only could she not remember the order (all of three items) and checked it multiple times. She could not remember where items where stored, pacing from one end of the counter to the other. She quite clearly had no clue whether to serve the ice cream in an ordinary cup or the advertised (and ordered) souvenir cup. I pitied the poor people in the very long queue behind me. Bury St Edmunds, odd choice you may think, not for me! After 4 long years of waiting, I finally got to see my best friend in person again. Packing both the boys off to a snooker hall, Jelly Bean and I put the world to rights for the rest of the afternoon. Afternoon tea at the Angel, so good, followed by a lovely walk around a town that has quickly become a favourite place of mine. There have been very few places around the world, where my heart and head have agreed that this would be a nice place to put down roots. Redcliffe in Australia was one, Queenstown in New Zealand another, and now BSE in England, who would have thought? A really nice trip, just the three older bunnies driving around Southern England. A trip to be repeated with the same dynamic, different countries, later this year.

The first stop of a bit more country hopping. Why just fly to Malta, when Sicily lies so close, and if going to Sicily why not add in Sardinia, finish the trip in the first of the two Italian Capitals, Rome, then lastly the capital of fashion, Milan. Malta, Mr Bunny has never been to Malta whereas Mrs B went a long time ago, therefore we decided it was high time we visited this tiny little island in the Mediterranean together. Even though Malta is tiny, we still opted to stay in three very different places. Starting in Sliema. We chose Sliema for its close vicinity to the island Capital Valletta. Our room was just a stone throw from the harbour and with neither cooking facilities or breakfast included, we knew we would have to go searching for food. Tiffany`s came recommended, a busy little restaurant on the sea front, you know the type, chairs and tables on the roadside, covered with plastic roof and sides. Or, as Mrs Bunny pointed out, we could sit on those two chairs in front of that little pancake place with its nice looking menu. Ha! These two chairs may have sat on the outside, but inside this `little` cafe went on forever, and it was beautiful, pink, frilly, quirky, old ladies boudoir crossed with grandmas kitchen, a touch of whimsical, a swirl of both Alice in Wonderland and Madam Puddifoots from Harry Potter and I give you Carolina`s. We were aiming for the terrace thinking it was upstairs, but it just got better with the terrace a first floor balcony overlooking the harbour. We came to eat here for the next three days. We caught the ferry across to Valletta, just a short bunny hop away, and wandered the old town for hours. It was nothing as a I remember, I even wondered if I came to this part of Valletta as nothing jogged my memory. Pleased about this as I do prefer new memories, rather than vague recollections of old. It is hard to write about Valletta because although old, it was also crazy busy. We realised why when we reached the harbour and found not one, but two cruise ships in the port. I have seen cruise ships before, but never this close, and I was actually overwhelmed, even sickened by the size of these things. I asked a crew member on the port side, how many passengers? 3000, and this was the smaller of the two ships. No wonder Valletta was so busy. It was there and then that I decided that a cruise ship was my idea of floating hell. We have encountered other cities that host the cruise ships, and they too are swamped. 3-5 thousand people, swarming en masse into a small city? No thanks. We stayed in Sliema, but saw nothing of the town. We didn`t feel like we needed to. It is just a mass of endless buildings, flats, apartments, hotels all crammed into a very small area. As you fly over Malta on the way to the airport, it is easy to see how this island could quite easily become nothing but houses with no green spaces such is its rapid spate of growth. The next few days we hired a car, based ourselves in the town of Mosta, central and mostly residential housing. We stayed in an apartment that we shared with its owner. Effectively we booked their spare bedroom. From Mosta we ventured around the island. From Marsaxlokk to Dingli, Medina to Mgarr. We tried hard to cover as much of the island as possible, whilst choosing not to enter the many paid attractions, museums or shows. I think it would be fair to say that we saw a lot of the areas of Malta, but not a lot of the stories. There are many many places of interest, but I think we chose a busy week, couple that with two cruise ships, parking that is ridiculously difficult, and our liking for the place diminished rapidly. A petty minded jobsworth at the supermarket, and my patience was at its limit. The biggest, most badly sign posted supermarket you have ever seen. We entered and attempted to go into the store through a closed, no barrier, no staff, nobody with a shopping trolley, empty till aisle. No! No! No! came the shouts, you go that way! sorry, we backtracked, found another entrance and let the fun begin. 30 minutes later, and we still failed to locate basic essentials. We paid for what we did have, and left. Naturally they feel the need to check your bags on exit. The next day, after we exited through what we thought was the correct exit till, No ! No! NO!! Go Back!! Go Back, pardon my french but flipping frogs, keep your hair on! We actually had to back into the store and exit down the next lane again...naturally jobsworth felt the need to search my tiny bag, glasses case and small purse, so patience at an all time low, I apologised for stuffing the half chicken and a pound of potatoes into my bag! (not) Bloody jobsworth. He even stuck a paid sticker on the young girls bottle of water in front of me, to prove she had it when she went in.... Malta you are trying our patience. One day we toured the island around Dingli and on our return back to the room spotted a small stall selling fresh vegetables, and a donkey stood to one side. Wanting to support the little guy, we stopped to buy but realised that we were looking at a newly renovated small holding with a tiny museum. Greeted by the owner we asked if we could buy some tomatoes, and then she asked if we would like to see the museum, adding, or not if your not interested. Odd statement, but we let it go. She then asked if we were over 60!! Have to say this did not sit well with either of the bunnies. Lastly, she showed us round the museum (took 5 minutes) then said, you can look around yourself, then come upstairs, and you can have a drink, or not...... For a woman just starting out in a new venture, she had a lousy way with words. We did not get our drink, neither did she offer. We left. For our last stay we headed a few miles north to the area of St Pauls Bay. I think our love of Malta was at an all time low by now, as we faced yet another road that was dug up, yet more cranes, and limited parking spaces. We parked up, grateful for our tiny little pug sized car, paid 30 euros for a parking garage that we did not get chance to use, and entered our next apartment with an already flat feeling, only to find that our apartment had a view of brick wall and a sodding dog that barked non stop somewhere in the immediate vicinity. We ate a subdued homecooked meal, and that ended our time in Malta. Mr Bunny became quite ill. For two days he became sick and lethargic, with a frequent longing to hug his new porcelain friend. Poor Mr Bunny. Mrs Bunny stayed by his side as he slept, only venturing out as far as the nearby Farmacia. Unlucky for us, we also managed to encounter the most miserable set of hotel guests, not once but three times. Popeye Village. On our last day with Mr B feeling a little more himself, we drove up to the north of the Island where many years ago they made the film Popeye. The film crew built a whole village in which to make the film, and it has remained a tourist attraction ever since. The film itself is dreadful, my opinion only, despite the wonderful late Robin Williams playing the lead. The setting for the film quite lovely. The film set is very clearly a treasured asset and is well maintained. It passed a pleasant couple of hours, though I am fairly certain that come summer it would be far too busy. I think it would be fair to say that Malta was probably a one time only for us. We did find pockets of peace, green fields and pleasant views, but not enough to feel a need to rush back any time soon. Thank you for your hospitality.

We flew from Cairo into Luxor arriving quite late in the evening, met by our next guide quite quickly, but then asked to remain in the mini van to await the other couple who were landing in from Heathrow and also on our boat. We were slightly miffed to say the least as we had purposefully booked private transfers to get us the heck away from the airports as quickly as possible. Just shy of two hours we waited, and patience is not this bunny`s strong point. To say I was a little miffy by the time these others passengers arrived would be an understatement. I bit my tongue, endeavoured to be as pleasant and polite as possible, knowing in my heart that any delay would not have been their fault, and very very quickly indeed realised that this couple were so just so incredibly lovely. I instantly regretted my standoffish huffs, and hope, one week later on disembarkation day, that any first impressions were forgotten. We learned in the mini van on the way to the ship, that we were four of a group of just six Brits who would be touring together. ( please let five and six be nice people, please please please) I love these guys! Giggles, Zoo, Pooh and Jean2. Our boat?, river boat?, ship?, cruise ship?, home! The grandly named Emilio Prestige on first glance appeared to be a large off white slightly rusted boatymcboatface affair. Oh my goodness how looks can deceive. The Interior was just beautiful. Marble polished floors, dark wooden walls, brass inlays, and with nothing else to compare it to, simply perfect. Given that it was extremely late, we entered our rooms, I chose 404 (we could have had 405) but the reference to all things computer, a pet hate of mine, was too funny to miss. Two bunnies decided right there and then that we need to dive deeper into the world of river cruises. Our little cabin was a very comfortable, softly lit, little space of comfort. Those few hours we slept so well as the boat set sail and the Nile drifted by. Breakfast day one, our first meal, and first meeting of our group, and couple three. Bit of a glitch when we went downstairs and below waterline! Mrs B does not like water, and the sight of water running past the window at eyelevel was ridiculously disconcerting and slightly nauseating. Not the best first impression for meeting the third couple. With `giggles and jeantwo` already met the night previous, we then met `zoo and pooh`. Oh my golly gosh were we a happy pair of bunnies! A nicer group of people we could never have hoped to meet. Andrew (giggles), and his wife Shirley (Jeantwo), and Gordon,( Zoo) and Helen, (pooh) My memory for names to faces is terrible, hence my penchant for remembering by reference. Giggles is obvious, not a single word uttered without the cutest little laugh, Jeantwo, the doppleganger of my best friend, so close in looks it never failed to frustrate me when a posh Liverpudlian accent failed to be heard. Zoo, three guesses what this lovely guy used to do for a living! and Pooh, his passionate about her work wife, who told me things I never thought I needed to know, causing the greatest hilarity. Giggles, Jeantwo, Zoo and Pooh would provide us with the best company a couple could ever wish for, the entire duration of the cruise. We thank you all. Before I add photos, I am going to admit here and now, that I cannot remember which temple is which so apologies if I put the wrong temples within each paragraph. The only one I really know for sure is Abu Simbel. Day 1. Not entirely sure why I thought we would start our excursions with something small, a teaser before the main events, but I did. So happy to be wrong on every level. Not entirely happy that we got to this first temple via a horse and cart, but that was clearly the most accepted mode of transportation. We both avoid animals for tourists at all costs, but this was a non negotiable. Happy to say it was just the perfect distance to warrant transport, but not a motorised vehicle. Edfu Temple , our first sighting of an Egyptian building and we were stopped in our tracks. I could honestly have cried at the marvel that stood before us. I always thought that the documentaries glorified reality, but not in the slightest. Magnificent is not the word. I was hoping to see `a few of the remaining hieroglyphics` I did not expect inscriptions on every wall from floor to ceiling in the most exquisite detail. From my very first Egyptian temple on day one, to the last on day six, I was continually in a state of awe and wonder. We both were. To avoid repeating similar events, it would be fair to say that each day would start with either an early 7am breakfast and out touring by 7.30 or 8am, or in the case of our visit to Abu Simbel, a 4am wake up and tour by 5am. Afternoons back on the boat for lunch, the times would vary according to tour group timings, and the same for our evening meal. Mid afternoons usually found our little group, our fluffle of six, either reading, talking or sleeping. In the afternoon of day one, we went to our second temple of the day, and our first and only museum. Kom Ombo was the temple. A temple whilst as fascinating as the previous one, held special interest for Jean and Pooh as this was a temple that had the hieroglyphs of ancient medical instruments and procedures, (Both ladies work within the medical profession). Childbirth being one just procedure. Both ladies took great pleasure in describing these instruments to me and our guide, amazed at just how little medical gadgets have changed in 3000 years. `We still use those, those those and those!` The only change in the procedures was the format in which prescriptions were `typed` up. Not entirely certain our modern practices would cope with calls of `nurse! another stone tablet and chisel please! Always a mine of quirky information and photographs, Mish Mish our guide was proud to show us photographs taken of Egyptian mummies showing ancient surgical implants, artificial limbs and surgical interventions. Crocodile Museum. Located next to Kom Ombo, this little museum especially sparked the interest of Zoo. Though it is entirely fair to say that both Bunnies were also exceptionally fascinated by numerous exhibits ranging from the crocodiles of all sizes that could easily have passed away last week (they didn`t, they were ancient crocs) to mummy wrapped crocs, to croc babies still partially encased in shells. The ancient Egyptians took preservation to another level. Day 2. A multiple tour day. Starting early we first headed to the High Dam . Land on one side. Lake Nasser on the other. Fair to say this is quite probably the most impressive modern structure for its sheer size, and just how much water this dam holds back. What you cannot appreciate is just how this dam was built. An engineer would stand and marvel at the complexity, for our group, the less than inspiring diagrams and a few photographs failed to move or impress us. This Dam is missing a few tricks. A cinema room with a speeded up video of dam construction for one thing, coloured photos, in your face facts and figures, a whole lot less t.s and more relevant information please. Next stop, The unfinished obelisk. Many countries cling to a snippet of something old to take tourists too, and Egypt is no different, except their idea of something old and interesting is also huge and mind boggling. The unfinished obelisk is situated in a stone yard within sight of the Nile. It would, once upon a time have been on the Nile, ready to be floated to its permanent home but the paths of time have re routed the Nile. This huge granite singular piece of architecture lies unfinished, showing the unswerving skill of the stone masons of ancient Egypt. Carved from the rock face, every chisel stroke visible, the sheer size of obvious dimensions and weight of this thing just stops you in your tracks, and makes you think How?! One can only imagine the despair of these stone masons, when after months of work, finding this particular stone had a flaw. A flaw that caused it to crack. It now lies unfinished, an engineering marvel for anyone to gaze upon and wonder, `how the heck were they going to move this thing`? Leaving the stone yard behind, it was next onto another Tourist Shop. This time it was perfume. Granted it was very well presented, the young girl doing the demonstration clearly knowledgeable and interesting. We were each dabbed with various scents, all pure, free from additives or alcohol, and informed of the healing or source of each scent. Entirely pointless for Mr B and his lousy sense of smell. For a bunny he would truly struggle to sniff out a lettuce, yet somehow never fails to source the beer or wine aisle.... Another shop with clean loos, and hot (or cold drinks) no hassle, but if you really want to buy something these are the prices. Ho hum. Again I have no interest in these kind of products. Occasionally I do feel bad about not buying from these places, but at the end of the day, this was not my choosing, I did not sign up to visit tourist shops. When it comes to buying anything in Egypt, If only the locals could be educated! Leave the tourists alone to browse at will, and you will sell more. Hassle us to death and we will avoid you like the plague. Mish Mish even told us how to walk heads down with zero eye contact and no pauses, quickly and briskly past his `brothers` The products these shops sell, especially the clothing is actually rather nice, but the constant pawing and hassle is no fun at all. I even opted to purchase my cheap naff overpriced souvenir from our ship shop rather than endure the overwhelming persistence. Walking briskly past every shop proved a step too far for booklover Jeantwo. As we passed yet another bookstore, I heard a little hum mmm mimble wimble behind me, and whispered to Mish Mish, I think we really need to let Shirley have a look in this bookstore. Oh what a happy little Bunny she was, coming out of the store armed with every book on Egyptian History. We had already clocked the fact that every single person on our ship had arrived with oversized luggage, and our little fluffle no exception. One book personally would send our humble 10kg cabin baggage into a panic, but for our eccentric fellow passengers and their 23kg overkill, what`s a little book? Last stop of the day Philae Temple. Yet another temple that was built pre BC and moved 2000 plus years later. Both marvels of engineering. Philae is reached by small boat, an experience in itself. Picture 500 or more small metal craft, simple affairs, two rows of seating and an engine/seat for the driver, and all vying for the opportunity to ferry tourists to the small Island on to which Philae now sits. Quite simple really, hail your boat, he approaches at ramming speed, donks every boat in his way to one side, in you step and off you go, keeping your arms, legs and other appendages in the boat, and preferably your bum on a seat also. A particularly hard ram into another boat plonked Mrs Jeantwo firmly onto her tush on the floor of the boat. Giggles did, so did the rest of us. Philae Temple once stood at a much lower lever and on the building of the dam would have been lost. This incredible structure and the buildings around it were painstakingly moved to higher ground. Every bit as special as every other temple, it was at Philae that Egyptian met Roman and hieroglyphics were no longer used as a means of recording history. I personally found this a little sad, even sadder when we were told that documents were then recorded onto the newly discovered papyrus into paper, but centuries later burned willy nilly by farmers and locals using them as a source of fuel. Arghhhh!!! to think of that history lost forever. Mish Mish casually adding, `oh they used a lot of the old mummies as well, grinding them up...` No !!! Day Three. A silly o`clock wake up call for a very start on our journey to Abu Simbel. This would be our most tiring day of all, but the one that will stay in our memories forever. Just four of us today, (plus the guide) with Zoo and Pooh, Pooh especially, having terrible motion sickness deciding a four hour mini van journey was not for them. With hindsight, this was a wise decision, and for anyone else with a grumbling tummy, you too should bite the bullet and take the flight option. Even leaving the city is an experience, as every 25 steps, an exaggeration I know, but doesn`t feel like it, a speed bump of epic proportions. Drive, slow, bump, drive, slow, bump, drive, slow bump, repeat indefinitely. All the way to High Dam which for some reasons closes in the evening, and reopens at 5.30am, hence the early start to avoid ( which we didn`t as it happens) the long queue of traffic waiting to start the long haul across the desert. Lulled into a false sense of security and complacency, we sat back and relaxed on this obvious newly tarmacked road. We even slept a little, until Wham! without warning, this singular road across the desert, descended rapidly into a myriad of cratered chaos. Cars, buses, coaches and wagons weaving their way along the `road` trying to find the path of least resistance, one that would allow them to continue with chassis intact and brains unshaken. All we could think was `so glad Pooh isn`t with us` poor woman would have needed therapy. There were pockets of smooth going, there were even small oases dotted along the desert road to our left and right where modern science meets desert challenge. Bordered by countries at war, Egypt is taking self sufficiency to heart and finding ways to irrigate the desert to produce crops and fruit. A nation of proper clever bunnies. Fours hours later, we arrived at Abu Simbel Car park. Were we the first? Not even close. Shy of 100 or more vehicles were already parked. Tickets in hand we walked to what appeared to be a huge rocky hill around which was a well trodden path. Rounding a corner, the sight of Abu Simbel very nearly stops you in your tracks. This is possibly the most famous sight in Egypt, the Four Kings and Queens of Egypt sat guarding the temple. If you wish to be super picky, you could say 3.5, as one statue has suffered during the passage of time, but considering the age, and the fact that this stupendous edifice was moved onto higher ground, this marvel of ancient engineering is a sight to behold. As a group we wanted to gaze in wonder, take photos and generally just gawp, but Mish Mish, ever observant, hustled us towards the temple, telling us to hurry and go now, before the guides and their tour groups finish their spiel. I for one, did not know there was an inside! I thought, from my limited knowledge, that Abu Simbel was famous because of the four exterior statues that guarded a singular statue on which the sun shone on a specific date. Slap my bunny butt and stick a dunce hat on my head! The interior of Abu Simbel just beggars belief. Statues of incredible height and detail. Walls inscribed with magnificent hieroglyphics and colour. Rooms, floors, ,chambers, and yes, a room, right at the back of the temple, with not one, but four statues, each depicting a different god. The sun shines on these four individual statues one by one as the sun changes position on one particular day per year. Given that the ancient Egyptians got it to perfectly align on the actual day of the winter (summer?) solstice yet the modern architects who moved the temple to higher ground managed to achieve the same, but one day late, is testament to the phenomenally accurate astronomical studies of the ancients. With a three and half hour bouncing journey back to the ship, the four of us agreed that Abu Simbel was quite the highlight and if you can stomach the appalling roads, a journey worth taking. Personally, If given the chance, I would plan in advance, and opt for the far easier flight version. Two miles from town to the airport, and from landing, two miles again to Abu Simbel. Not cheap, not by any stretch of the imagination, £500 per couple being the average cost of the flight tour this particular year, but worth every penny. Our Cruise continues.

Egypt, a country that both Bunnies have wanted to see for a long time yet put off going due to the overwhelming reports we have read and heard regarding the continual clawing of begging hands, tipping harassment and beggars. Even the airport isn`t safe from scammers we read, passports withheld until money changes hands, scams? you name it, we read about it. For years this clouded my judgement and kept me away from what has since turned out to be one of the best tours I have ever taken. Unlike most other places we have visited, Egypt we did with the aid of a Travel Agent. Best Decision Ever. The tour ran like clockwork from moment one, though it would have saved us a lot of stress and unnecessary worry if Cyplon Holidays had told us in advance that we would be met at the airport by an agent who would take our passports off us and arrange our visas whilst we waited in line. Tiny oversight there Cyplon! We flew into Cairo from Heathrow, not entirely certain why we were not able to catch the Manchester flight that landed 36 seconds after our London flight,(slight grrr there) and as I said, met by a young gentlemen with just our names on a card, who promptly relieved of us of our passports and walked briskly way from us at the airport. "Mr B, follow those passports as though your life depends on it, never mind me, I`ll meet you by the door! "To say they were the longest 30 mins of our lives would be an understatement, as Mr B tailed this guy closer than a gnat on a hippos backside, and I had no clue where he was, but Bless this Mans dear Heart, he was entirely genuine, returning our passports to us with visas paid and paperwork in order. He guided us through that horrifically disorientating airport safely, quickly and delivered us into the hands of our next man in Egypt, the taxi driver and a tour guide. No money changed hands. Just smiles of joy, and a grateful and voluntary tip given willingly with a huge sigh of relief and gratitude. We left the airport and headed for our first base, Cairo. Cairo Leaving the airport towards the city with its clean smooth tarmac roads, stunning bright neon lights, amazing buildings and impressive architecture we were just a little in awe. We were of the opinion that Cairo was filthy, old, run down, smoggy and rubbish strewn. No, that would be Old Cairo, New Cairo, the area in which the airport lies is amazing. Our journey of around one hour 20 mins unfortunately deteriorated rapidly, with wows turning quickly into oh`s. From glorious to grubby and beyond. Our hotel, situated in Giza, the promised `walking distance to the new Museum it was not, and you were absolutely not walking to the Pyramids even if you could see them from your bedroom window. (eyes squinted, craned neck and binoculars) I also do not think we could have picked a worse day to arrive. It was Day two or three of Ramadan, and with hindsight, possibly something I should have researched a little prior to leaving. Mr B failed to clock the obvious, but Mrs B felt exceptionally out of place the nearer we got to our hotel, as every single person on the street, restaurant, cafe or sidewalk, was male. Young, exuberant joyfully happy persons, but still all male. This chunky dumpy 5` 1 Bunny with 2 bouncing appendages perched on the apparent wrong height of a body was more than just a little obvious elephant in the room. I sat back, said nothing, but squeaked in fear at a loud `gunshot` type sound followed quickly by a young guy careering into the parked car at the side of us proceeding to tear off his shirt. A firecracker . His mates, in high spirits had pushed a cheap firecracker down his jumper. I think my heart was still racing as we pulled up in front of the hotel, the sounds of great hilarity from those young men still ringing in my ears. Ramadan, a time of celebration and happiness, not crime and punishment! Cairo New Museum Day Two. A private, or so we had thought, tour to the new Museum and the Great Pyramids of Giza. Turns out our private tour was for 4, and as we waited for the other guests, to say we were a little miffed would be an understatement. Then we met David and Robert. To our delight they were the nicest guys ever. Intelligent, articulate, funny, raw, and entirely more drawn to Mr B than Mrs, catch my drift, these two guys, of slightly advancing years, were an absolute delight to be with. In fact, we would chose to spend the next two evenings dining with them, rather than alone. To the museum the four of us then went. Designed by Dublin based Heneghan and Shih-Fu Peng, this building is nothing short of an architectural wonder. Designed to resemble and enhance the area and to simulate the Pyramids, this wonderous building is just glorious. The Museum newly opened in 2025 is stunning, and was the only reason, that and the Grand Pyramids, to draw me to Cairo. I love a good museum, the older and more interesting the artifacts, the longer I can browse. Cairo Museum, housing the worlds most spectacular and priceless artifacts, and I was given three hours!. Three measly hours! I will stamp my feet and tell anyone who listens, You cannot see the new Cairo Museum in 3 hours! We were raced around the museum, passing cases housing what appeared to be the most well preserved objects, to stand in front of a tablet of stone. A large statue. Two figures. Every object priceless, but the rest? over there? what`s that? Is that a mummy? This Bunny was teased in the cruellest manner ever. Time point blank refused to be our friend, and marched on relentlessly, a snippet here, a talk there, an impressive statue, until we arrived at the main event. The wing devoted to King Tut. To say this wing was busy was an understatement. I think every tour from every country landed in the museum that day. Elbows at the ready guys, We`ve been to China and know the drill. We have stood in front of the mask of King Tut. We have seen the incredible colours, the markings, the hieroglyphs, and nothing or nobody could you change your mind about what it is. Breath taking. Detailed. Colours so vivid your brain cannot compute the age. We all know that his possessions were found with him, his chariot for example. Yet there it stands in all its golden glory, not a model, life size, real. Chairs so exquisite you just stare with wonder. Jewellery so delicate and perfect it defies belief. The chest of gold on which the black dog of Anubis sits, looks like it was created yesterday. The Sarcophagus. Seven in total. Each one larger than the previous, decorated both inside and out. Over 5500 artifacts found just from the Tomb of Tut, all displayed, all in the museum, and I had three hours. 3.5 Hours actually, I could have cried. I will return. We need to. The Great Pyramids of Giza . A short drive away, stand the Great Pyramids. No longer can you just walk up and wander. The Pyramids, and quite rightly so, are well protected, with armed guards and high fences. David, our new friend had told us the story how as a young man he had been challenged by a German colleague to race with him, first one to the top of the Pyramid. Thankfully you can no longer climb the Pyramids, and since the sad and unfortunate incident many years later, tighter border controls overall have come into play. Such is the scale of the area, the fences go unnoticed, but they are there. A tiny little museum shows a few of the tools they found when excavating the Pyramids, possibly more in the big museum had I been given the chance to look, grr, but these few tools give you a humbling insight into the simple tools that built these mighty, structures. Our guide, a bit of a joker, liked to have a laugh by asking us to guess things like, How much did each brick weigh? or How many stones to make one Pyramid. We were woefully off mark. 2.5 Tonnes per stone on average, and 2.3 million stones to create the Great Pyramid. Built 4500 years ago, and still standing. Just incredible. We were then escorted to the Pyramids themselves in one of the many little buses that runs to and from the plateau on which the Pyramids stand. At first I was a little disappointed, I thought they were bigger, but the closer you get, the nearer you stand and the real scale of these things becomes apparent. At base level, the first block you stand next too is knee high, large, solid and heavy. At level two blocks are the size of a mans torso, and up to a tonne in weight each. Then you raise your eyes and just gaze in awe as you then start to fully appreciate the complexity and skill of these ancient builders. A sad part of the Pyramids were the annoying and slightly aggressive sellers of tat. They pose as friendly tour guides, but a single smile and your hooked into their spiel and sales. Very hard to ignore, and pushing the tat back into their hands earns you a mouthy response. Breath. Smile. Ignore. Keep Walking. Our guide was very good, gave us plenty of time to wander whilst giving us lots of information re the Pyramids, most of which I`m loathed to admit went in one ear and straight out the other. After gazing our fill at the Pyramids, we headed back onto one of the little buses and onto the site of the Sphynx. We ran yet another gauntlet of market sellers of T.S and walked in a slightly upwards direction where our guide said we could get the very best views and photos of the Sphynx. We both admit we were a little disinclined to join what was a rather long slow moving queue through what I now know to be an ancient preparation room, mostly ruins, but interesting enough that I wish our guide had encouraged us to join said queue. We would also have been able to see the Sphynx much closer, rather then our view from a slightly elevated position distorting its true size. Naturally no good tour is going to end without the traditional tour of a local large scale factory shop. Good Prices! Great Discounts! Just for Today! the usual cr.p. This time it was the turn of a Papyrus Showroom. How its made, and here are some of the pictures you can buy. Trust me people, there is not a single thing in those shops that isn`t available anywhere and everywhere for a fraction of the price. We have learned the hard way, that these shops lull you into buying their t.s with offers of a hot drink , a clean loo and a no hassle shopping experience. Don`t fall for it ! Resist resist. Cairo Not a lot I can say about Cairo. There may well be masses of fantastic tours, sights, smells, and interest out there, but its not for us. Just the short drives from hotel to museum, to the motorway, to the Pyramids was more than enough sight seeing for me. The sheer amount of dirt, rubbish, rubble, air pollution, crazy cars, appalling traffic was enough to put us off even considering venturing further. We had no internet without buying E Sim packages. Uber isn`t really a thing. The language barrier, and the hassle and its a great big No Thanks. Even our lovely guys with whom we spent the evenings admitted that they walked down the street where the hotel lay, and walked back with the opinion that that was more than enough for one day. When people tell you that Egypt is hassle, it is, nothing you cannot handle, but very tiring. Our dear friend in Australia would be so cross knowing we chose not to venture further, she has wandered Cairo at length, with no problems. I really do need to study that little firebird at close quarters to see how she does it :-) Bottom line. Tour Cairo if you must, but get yourself a guide. Visit The New Cairo Museum. Plan to spend at the very least, one Full Day there. If your an avid reader of descriptions, take two days. See some artifacts, have your lunch there in one of the many available restaurants and cafes, continue. The Old museum still houses many many artifacts as well if the New One still leaves you wanting more. The Pyramids. Half a day is quite sufficient. Sphynx. Join that queue. You're only there once (?) Go and get as close as you can. Next, the Nile. Our trip continues.

Well I wonder how many people are going to comment on this post? these two Bunnies have travelled all around the World, seen many wonderful countries, posted our travels on Facebook with barely a comment or reference, but post the word `tacky` against my update on Benidorm, and suddenly every man and dog has a grr at me. Each to their own people! These Bunnies went to Benidorm for one reason, and one reason only. To catch up with Daddy Bunny having not seen him since December. In winter Benidorm is ideal for the older person, and the reason why both him and my mum would spend many happy weeks there away from the cold and misery of the UK winter. It suited them then. It suits him now. We hate it. Actually, I don`t hate it, I just hate the cheap nasty tacky t shirts and tourist tack that adorns every street corner. Why on earth do these sellers think that granny needs to read F..K (with every letter in full) my cat, you get me drift, or Suck My xxxxx, or other graphic expletives shoved in their faces? Save it for the summer months when the families with young children arrive, yeah, wow, great! That aside, then you get the Phallic anything and everything. Sure, give little Charmaine (or should I indulge modern stupidity and spell it Sharmayne?) a lolly in the shape of a xxxx! Put phallic magnets next to the colourful donkey magnets, wonderful, just what you need. Sorry people, but I don`t get it, and neither do I want to. I am no prude, I can laugh with the best of them, but sex tat? Nope. I am also perfectly aware that this kind of tat is found everywhere around the world, but I`ve never seen it quite as prolific as here in Benidorm. As for Karaoke. Nope, no comment, not my thing. I do not deny we sat in some pretty busy places with Karaoke as the choice of entertainment, and granted at times I forgot these were not actual singers, just people having fun. It was a suitable volume and averagely ok. But the bar in which we were seated had a flag on the wall, on which the word See You Next Tuesday, was written iykyk. Why???? Why is it necessary to write such a word? oh the common nastiness of people just winds me up. Do you want to call me a snob? Go ahead. Feel Free. The average age of the clientele that afternoon was probably 75. Smoking. Everybody smokes. Cheap town, cheap beer, cheap cigarettes. and Cheap English Breakfasts to be found everywhere. Shirley Valentine eat your heart out. There are parts of Benidorm that are very clean and nice. Away from the tack, the brash, the cheap, there are some truly pleasant places. The sea front is lovely, and the beach well kept and clean. Away from the tack there are green and pleasant parks. With very little effort Benidorm could be a genuinely nice place. A place for the older retired generation (more so in the winter months rather than the heat of summer) and perfect for families in the Summer months when hotels, beaches and pools are their calling. We stayed in a lovely self catering apartment overlooking the sea, and spent much time there. A week was a long time. The time was well spent, and we enjoyed the company of Daddy B very much. Have we been to Benidorm before? Yes we have, for the same reason. To visit Mrs Mummy Bunny and Daddy B. Did we like it then? No, for much the same reasons, but the company more than made up for the tacky stuff. I also went as a child, and young as I was I remember Benidorm even then being very English tourist driven. I don`t however recall seeing the crass t shirts. We went in Summer, it was far too hot. I even have a photograph of myself and that tin man. He was orange back then and in a different place, but still the same old tin man. Will we go again? Probably, but it will be out of necessity rather than choice.

A whole new country, and one that we have wanted to visit for a long time. With a week to fill and no idea which destination to choose, we finally opted for a weeks break in Marrakesh. It is January, so whilst the weather is lovely, we prefer to be coastal in the summer months, a city break was perfect. We flew into the most beautiful airport building at Marrakech, and unfortunately as we tried to get cash out at the airport, this is a closed currency, we then discovered that Mr B`s wallet was empty. Gone were our credit cards and other essential cards. We presume pickpocket, as we had them on the plane, but gone by the time we reached a cash machine. Secret pocket or not, the cards had vanished. A short taxi ride to our hotel, passing lots of football related flags. The country is hosting the Africa Cup, and the atmosphere is great. Morocco have made it to the semi finals, and spirits seem high. A very clean looking place on first inspection, not modern, but we are heading for Marrakech, not Casablanca. The taxi pulled up near the city wall, and asked us to wait. A few moments later a breathless young guy came running towards us from a tiny side street. Our riad, another name for small family home, is in the old city with its it myriad of tiny winding streets. The walk proved us to one thing, we would never have found our residence without guidance! Left here, right there, down this alley, walls and doors and not a lot else. where on earth were we staying? Stopping at the oldest looking door, our host handed us the keys, asked us to unlock the door to prove we could wiggle the lock, and we entered the most amazing building. For a small building it was very beautiful. Pure traditional Moroccan architecture, rooms around a central courtyard. For the first time in a long time, we got the room that drew us to the riad in the first place. Incredibly cosy looking with orange painted walls, lamps, wall lights, marble floors and a fully tiled mosaic bathroom. ( and air con with heat, its January, its needed) Google Maps, downloaded offline, would prove to be a godsend. The Medina in which we are staying, Medina meaning old city, is just a maze. A maze of souks, streets, alleys and passageways. No cars allowed in the centre but instead a whole host of motor cycles, scooters, donkeys with carts bombard you from every angle. But it works. Donkeys, quick reference to. I always hated the thought of Morocco due to its use of the beast of Burden, but for the most part, the animals I saw were reasonably well kept, no evidence of being mis treated. A few foot issues could have been sorted, but generally the animals we saw looked as well as they could given their role. Unlike the appalling harassment you get in another country, Christmas meat, if you get me drift, it was surprisingly easy to wander the souks and even look at the goods for sale without the hard sell a constant presence, in fact in the tiny shop where I chose to buy a tiny hint of a souvenir, we had to hunt for the seller. There are thousands of shops. and they all sell more or less the same things. How anyone ever makes a living baffles me. I could confidently say, that if you pass say 20 shops, you have seen everything that is available. Every other stall is just rinse and repeat, over and over and over. With six full days in Marrakech, we chose to spend each day at a different place of interest. Short days, rather than endless wanderings. Little B had given us a list of must see places, and we endeavoured to see each one in turn. Starting with the Secret Garden. Not secret, as just about every tourist and group ends up there at some point. Yes it is a garden...hmm...what else can I say? Go to say you have been, might mean a bit more to you if you are a gardening guru, but other than that, its just a nice pleasant space in which to be. Next days little adventure took us to the Ben Youssef Madrasa. Once a school for religious purposes, it is now a beautiful, slightly repetitive building in which to wander around. You need to look for yourself, but you could just trust me when I say that see one room, and you have seen them all. Day three was the square. This large open space came to be known by us by a couple of names. Stamp Your Feet Square, or more frequently, Snake Square. Why stamp your feet square? Because I did. How was I to know that the overly familiar rooftop cafe was the same one we had visited two days previously, when day one had market stalls on semi rough road surfaces, yet two days later was on a marble tiled floor! Convinced it wasn`t, I ` stamped my feet`... how was I know they had paved the whole darn area almost overnight! After that incident, we would refer to the square as Snake Square. This was where you found all the snake charmers. You know why they play those weird flute things? To stop you standing on the damn snakes!!! Hear the flutes? look down for the snakes. We would watch the every day goings on in the square from a high rooftop. No alcohol is supplied in Morocco unless you go to certain licensed places. Suits me, I don`t drink or feel the need to. Coffee or Tea suits me just fine. Watching the square, and on a clear day you can also see the snow clad mountains of the Atlas, was just mesmerising. Snake charmers, guy with monkeys dressed in tutus, (so sad) fruit sellers, henna tattoos, psst wanna buy a watch guys, genuine rolex of course , acrobats, con artists with the `where`s the money` switcheroo coconut shells, magnet for pickpockets, it all takes place in that square. Quite fascinating. By the way, the actual name of the square is Jemaa el-Fna. Another day we went to the `Bahia Palace- Stunning 19th Century Palace with ornate rooms courtyards and gardens` Well that was the description on the guide anyway. Not entirely certain who wrote the guide, but in our opinion, scruffy old building, not a lot of interest, once upon a time in the past this may have been a garden, average looking courtyard, and a lot of lovely scaffolding , would pretty much sum up this place. A whole raft of carefully taken photographs just outside the palace suggests that inside is quite beautiful, meh. no its not. Other places we could or should have visited were the El Badi Palace (closed for lunch so we gave it a swerve) But if you want to see Storks a plenty, then this is the place. Every rampart had a storks nest, with many birds in residence. Saadian Tombs. sorry, life is for living, we felt no desire to go tomb hunting. The Yves Saint Laurent Museum had a lot of interest, leaflets etc, but for us to go it would have been a very long walk out of town, and with the average time spent there (according to google) being 40 mins, we decided not to bother. Food in Marrakech, not entirely certain I should comment, granted this bunny doesn`t eat much in the way of local food anywhere, any country. The crepe stall was very good, with the French influence quite obvious. The Lamb Tagine eaten by Mr B was `nice`, I think it very British fish and chips. You get the chippies with people queuing up outside forever, and then you get the back street chippy, good for the odd occasion. I think Mr B and his lamb was the cheap back street version, bit of a shame really. The evening was late, the shops that you give you a hint of where you are were rapidly closing for the night, they close quite early, so we ate at the nearest place to the Riad. Not researched or Tripadvisor, we just went. Tough chewy chicken kebabs for Mrs B, and the meh, Lamb tagine for Mr B. On other evenings, let me quickly add, the breakfast at the hotel was incredibly filling, the need for more food at any time of day not actually needed, Mr B frequented a nearby stable door cafe that sold the most awesome hot sandwiches for 80p. One evening both bunnies ate at the Riad hoping for some good home cooked food. As per usual Mrs B swayed towards a chicken dish, Mr B the meat. Both Tagine. Not entirely certain what part of the chicken I was given, but it wouldn`t have been on any plate of mine in the UK. Bones a plenty, what looked like a rib cage, brr go figure. Then there was the little accompaniment of onion, a least 4 of them, and a pound of sultanas. Now this bunny loves sultanas, but a whole bag full? cooked? in oil and onions? Two spoonful were more than sufficient. Marrakech is wonderful. In Summer it may be worth filling out a week with trips to the desert, camels rides, or quads, but for a winter city break, personally I would say 4 days is quite sufficient. Will we go back, probably not to Marrakech, but we will certainly go back to Morocco. Thank you for your hospitality.

After a brief layover in Fiji, (watching a monsoon rage from the airport window) We continued our journey to Australia, starting with Cairns. Quick bit of time info here, we planned to spend 4 days here, but an oversight regarding not only time differences but crossing the international date line, meant that 4 days turned into 3. We flew at midnight Saturday for 6 hours. We landed at 4am. We flew again at 9am and landed into Cairns at lunchtime on Monday.... What the heck happened to Sunday?? Cairns This short stay had purely one reason in mind, to visit our friend Margaret and her husband Peter. We became friends with Margaret in 2018 during our trip to China and have remained distant friends ever since. It was with Margaret and Peter that we spent New Year 2024 on their balcony. This year Margaret insisted we cancel our booking at a local hostel insisting we stay, at her expense, at a hotel of her choosing. Anyone who knows Margaret knows there is little point in arguing! We duly cancelled our booking, and with Margaret picking us up from the airport, the secrecy of our hotel was still held a mystery. All was revealed when she dropped us off at not just any nice hotel, but the Hilton, next door to her own `unit`. Unit being a very Australian word for Apartment or Flat. After an incredibly long journey, all we could muster the first evening was crash and sleep. The following three days had bonkers weather. Day one we relaxed in the pool, and got incredibly sunburnt due to our inattentiveness towards the sun, and the fact that we were engaging in a great conversation with two other couples about world travel, and cricket. Cricket being the main reason not only these two couples were in Oz, but us as well. The Ashes in fact. but that`s for later. Days two and three were spent in identical fashion. Leisurely time in the hotel watching the endless rain from the balcony by day, and two wonderful evenings with M & P with amazing takeaway food from the RSL just below us. We spent both evenings watching the sun go down, endless conversations and happy memories made. Melbourne It is getting close to Christmas now, but not wishing to impose on our friends there for too long, we chose to stay in Melbourne City for the first 4 days. Having spent time in Melbourne last year, we had no desire to retrace our steps again this trip. With Christmas so close, and Mrs B being a huge lover of all things Christmas, we hit the shopping malls in the hope of finding ourselves anything Christmassy, tree/lights decor to make our room sparkle. Oh my goodness Melbourne was just so incredibly busy, but not busy in the way we seem to be Christmas busy in the UK. For a starter, its hot! Granted nowhere near as hot as it was last year, but still very warm, and secondly the shops are full of summer clothes! bright colours, whites, cream, yellows. Anyone from the UK knows perfectly well that you are not going to find yourself a summer coloured t shirt in December at home. Our shops are consistently Black, Red, or Sparkly. We did not feel the love for Christmas in the malls, we ate at the Pancake Parlour, but even that felt a little flat and less than Christmassy. The shops were devoid of all things Christmas decoration wise, and not knowing which shops to aim for, for cheap cheesy sparkly things, we left the mall empty handed. Mrs Bunny was more than just a little sad. Mr B googled the heck out of Melbourne that evening, and day two started with a Plan. Out of Melbourne he found us a dedicated year round Christmas shop!. Perfect. We drove there the morning of day two, and found ourselves driving through the scruffiest areas that we could not believe were so close to the City. It was so run down, covered in graffiti everywhere, and shops that looked barely open. Such a contrast to the many other towns around Oz that we have passed through. We finally arrived at the Christmas shop and hit the jackpot. We went just a little bit daft, buying not one, but two trees, multiple sets of lights, a couple of little elves and a whole bunch of tinsel. (if space and weight wasn`t an issue, we would also have purchased several of the most gorgeous Disney ornaments that we have ever seen, the likes of which we have never seen in any of our 7 Disney Parks around the world, come to Australia and wow, so many!) From that Christmas shop we headed next to a nearby mall. Both bunnies thought this mall was very nice. In fact we had a little too much fun there buying ourselves (and each other) new clothes and simple gifts for Christmas. It was only at the end of a long day there, that over coffee and a chat with a friendly local lady, that she informed us that this particular Mall had a very bad name, and only two weeks prior a gang of youths with machetes had run through injuring several people. With the appalling news of the attack in Bondi still fresh in the news, it was a little disconcerting. Shortly before leaving the mall for the day we heard the sound of a brass group playing carols. As brass players ourselves we were drawn to the sound. It was the local Salvation Army band, just 5 of them, but also giving out a leaflet for their Christmas Carol concert the following night. With a great desire to find the spirit of Christmas that we were so desperately missing, we decided a carol concert was just the thing. The day of the concert was spent the best way possible. A room full of Christmas lights, two trees, lots of tinsel, Christmas movies in bed, and Uber eats! This would be my most favourite day of the trip so far. Even the Christmas concert that evening with the Salvation Army band's (not quite Black Dyke...) painful renditions of Christmas songs by an over enthusiastic singer who couldn`t quite sing in the same key as the band, or the same speed for that matter. Nor did a group of random children shaking as many noisy bells to the once enjoyable Jingle Bells carol dampen our enjoyment of that day. With Christmas in my heart I went hunting next for more Christmas joy, and found a stage play of A Christmas Carol playing the next evening in the city. We got tickets and had the best evening ever watching this version of an old story. No props, just sound effects, yet it worked beautifully. the encore of Silent Night played with the sweetest sounding little bells ended the night wonderfully. Today was also little Bunnies birthday, and though I felt so sad not spending at least part of the day with her, I did know that she was having an adventure of her own in Manchester, and that made it feel so much better. Turns out she had also watched a version of Christmas Carol some nights previous. Great Minds! Christmas with Friends Frankston, it was here last year that we met my mums best friend and her hubby for the first time. Just as my mum predicted prior to passing, we loved them. Mrs Koala and her hubby were just two lovely people, with Mr Bunny getting on so well with Mr Koala they could have been best school mates meeting up once more. Mrs Bunny knew in a heartbeat why exactly Mrs Koala was her mums best friend. It hadn`t taken too much thought into wanting to return to stay with these guys, Christmas would not have been my first choice of dates, but when Mr Bunnies heart is set on fulfilling a bucket list dream, then Christmas it would have to be.... We arrived to stay with the Koalas just prior to Christmas, with the intention of spending 6 days with them to enjoy their wonderful company and to fulfil the bucket list dream of Mr Bunny, then, it would be onto another destination to celebrate Christmas Two in our own silly way. Christmas Day. It did not start well. I am the most intense Christmas present shopper, always seeking the most perfect presents for everyone. This Christmas I was challenged by limited space, weight and knowledge. In a nutshell I chose poorly, and it upset me. I hate buying gifts that are silly, pointless, tacky, and with my heart not really wanting to be in Oz at Christmas at all, because I wanted to be at home (different story) my head failed to let me find presents that I truly wanted to give. Receiving the most beautiful bracelet, earrings and a crazy pink Christmas hat that I loved, made me feel sad that I failed so badly in my task to find the perfect present for my new friend. Mr Bunny received the most amazing gifts also, an Ozzy rugby shirt, a special cap, and socks. Socks? Yes, yellow `beer` socks with white furry tops and handles!! Probably bought as a joke, but I do hope Mr Koala knows just how often those crazy socks are worn!!!! Mr B loves them. Mrs Koala excelled herself on Christmas Day, you have never seen a fridge so full. We truly hoped this was not all done with us in mind, but felt better when told there would be 10 for the lunch. Lunchtime came, and everything was perfect. Poor Mrs Koala had a fit when she found out I do not eat anything seafood, stood there as she was surrounded by every kind of shell fish monstrosity. In the end it was decided that I could eat the same as the children, melon and sausage much to everyone`s amusement. Did you know you can cook Christmas Dinner on a BBQ? Oh how very Aussie!, The oven indoors held the roast spuds, but everything else was cooked on the `barbie`. My first Christmas away from my own little family was pleasant but a challenge. I am not a social butterfly, and faced with an extended guest list of people I didn`t know, was a little overwhelming. Lovely as the entire family was, I breathed the biggest sigh of relief when they all departed that evening, and once more the house reigned in silence, the occasional chink of glasses raised, a most pleasant sound. The Bucket List. The Ashes. The Melbourne Boxing Day Test This my friends was the sole reason for our epic trip. Mr Bunny has always wanted to watch a major live sporting event, and with the Ashes, in particular the Boxing Day test held at the iconic MCG each year, that was a bucket list item just waiting to be ticked off. No matter how much I hated the idea of being away from home at Christmas, this was one dream that I was not going shatter. Sulk, yes, whinge, most probably, but decline? No chance. It was supposed to be Mr B and his very best mate, along with new bestie Mr Koala, but when Daddy B decided it was too much, it was up to opposing sides to settle their differences and head to the cricket together. Boxing Day, with the boys setting off early to get to the stadium, Mrs Koala and I started our day with a very leisurely breakfast, a dash of chocolate, Netflix and a Christmas Movie, we agreed to start with Love Actually, and we had a very nice day. We did end up watching the end of the cricket much to my chagrin, I would have so much preferred to have watched more movies, but its not my house and I was not for arguing. We picked up two frozen guys at the end of the day, who told us that although the day was bright, they were sat in the shade in a veritable wind tunnel. They were both freezing, but exceedingly happy. Ashes Day Two. Once again the boys set off early, this time armed with puffy jackets and jumpers, but instead of a Christmas film, Mrs Koala and I watched the match. To be fair, whilst I was a bit miffed at not watching films, the cricket was quite exciting, I did try to read my book, but the pull of the match was too great. I am so happy to say that Mr Bunny not only got the chance to fulfil his bucket list dream of going to the Boxing Day Test in Melbourne, but that he also witnessed England at its best as they beat the Aussies hands down in a rather exciting second day. The Surfcoast Much as I adored staying with Mr and Mrs Koala, I was very excited and so looking forward to our stay at this little caravan park again. I had visions of how I was going to make the caravan all nice and Christmassy, I was going to tinsel and light it up with everything we had. There were so many unwatched Christmas movies to look forward to, on Disney and Netflix, a second Christmas Dinner to be bought, a second boxing day with turkey butties for lunch, all the usual stuff, just a few days late. I should have known better. Nothing is ever the same second time around, non more so than our `caravan`. The only room they had for us was a small motel type room, the type with the kitchen, table and bed all in the same room. The tv was one of those placed in a ridiculous position high up in one corner. We were so disappointed that we just had to beg for anything else. There was just one other cabin left. It was a dog friendly cabin so we knew it would be scruffier than before, but surely it had to better? Well.....the layout was certainly better, but oh dear heavens the Smell!! Mr B with his naff sense of smell had no clue just how bad it was. Fish! Seafood! wet dogs, whores boudoir (my imagination running wild) would just about sum it up. I was in total despair. I said we would stay but only if we begged borrowed and bought every kind of air freshener right now ! Half a mini bottle of cheap perfume, one can of anti bac spray, vanilla air freshener, two bottles of scented sticks and an airwick candle later, not to mention every open window and door, and eventually the smell started to dissipate. We decked out the caravan as best we could given the limited space, placed our two Christmas Trees in strategic places, added as many lights as we could, then shopped for our `Christmas Eve 2` goodies, and` Christmas Day 2` lunch. A plan was coming together. We settled down with goodies and drinks in hand, switched on the TV and.....no Netflix.......okkkkkk......we have managed before, we can manage again, Laptop! and that`s when we found out we had absolutely bugger all internet. Nada, Zip, SFA. Right there and then my Christmas ended. We did try the op shops the following day, in the hope of finding Christmas DVDs, but we came up wanting. My love for all things Christmas fizzled from there onward. As far as I was concerned, it was over. I knew full well that we would have decent internet, albeit no Disney, at our next destination, but that wasn`t until the New Year. Pah. I have zero desire to watch anything Christmas after December has ended. I hereby admit that I was well and truly fed up! The following days passed slowly. As per Melbourne City we had more or less been to all the places of interest nearby , and travelling for hours on end to visit more out of the way places just wasn`t high on my to do list. This trip was all about ticking the bucket list and not a lot else. We did take a drive along the Great Ocean Road, and it struck us just how many kilometres we did last year visiting places of interest. Arriving at the Koala Kafe, we would still have needed to drive at least another 100 km to reach the Apostles, and several more kms more to arrive at Warnambool. We did spend a day at Werribbee Open Range Zoo and that was good. The `safari` trail by truck was excellent, with the sheer amount of space available to the Zoo, they really made the most of it? A few more animals would have been nice, but never the less we had a great day. Our time in Australia has come to a close. I have to say I was a little sad leaving this time, but I know that we will be back, not at Christmas, but at some point in the future. Until next time Australia..

As per the journey to Australia via certain points of interest, it was always my intention to break up the journey home as well. K.L seemed the obvious place. We stayed once again at the very conveniently located Soho Suites, and with a top end view of the Petronus Towers the location is perfect. This was to be a break of relaxation, home cooking and not a lot else. Truth be known we are also here to get away from the expense of Australia whilst passing time before heading off to Spain to meet Daddy Bunny. DB is going to Benidorm on the 10th, (or so he said) so we planned our entire trip to end in Spain, starting the 10th. Actually, lets recap this whole trip. Starting at the beginning when our very first flights to Gatwick were cancelled, supposedly not leaving until Tuesday, instead of Monday. ( rapidly rearranged, and all was well again) Daddy B booked his trip to Spain leaving on the 10th. We planned accordingly. Booking flights to Stansted on the 10th with the intention of flying straight back out to Spain. He later told us after flights were booked that he didn`t go until the 15th, Lets fly to Cairns to see Margaret. We booked the flights, she told us they would be in Brisbane!. ( this would later change when Peter was unable to fly) Booked for 4 days, lost one when we crossed the date line. No Internet. No Christmas films. Huge sore point. Hire car got bumped in an Aussie Car Park, first time in forever the insurance policy was poorly worded, and maybe just maybe (time will still tell) we have a sh.t tonne of excess to pay. Credit cards and Driving licence, lost (stolen?) in transit to Morocco. Lastly. Our 11.50 daytime flight home from Spain, was accidently booked as the 6.00am flight instead. Rookie flyer error. Packed all our oversize toiletries, cooking oil, milk into our big bags, not an issue as we have hold luggage. We totally forgot about the bit about sending stuff home in two large boxes because we wanted to fly cabin bag only to our next destinations. So whose bags got pulled due to excess liquids?.....doh!!!! Boxes to send home, again! type of trip, or poor choices? either way, once again we had to send boxes home. We could do it from home. Evri. So much cheaper. Nearest drop off, 1.4 miles from the airport. Perfect. Except that it cost us £18 for that short taxi ride. We failed to consider the £7.50 drop off fee that every taxi is charged as they enter the airport. We got the bus back. Back to Kuala Lumpur. My first observation, and a point that I forgot, KL is a very smart city. Whilst there are a lot of tourists, in usual tourist garb, the majority of people are very smartly dressed. Reminded me a bit of Christchurch New Zealand, another smart city, and another city in which I only had my casual backpacking mildly creased day wear with me. It is hot and humid, and shorts whilst acceptable, should be dressed up, not down. With the city hot, and the mall air conditioned, it was there we spent the most time. The Mall closest to Soho is very nice, and huge. Every shop from the Gucci to Uniqlo and every price range in between. Wonderful if you have an unlimited baggage allowance, and not just packed all your surplus gear into two boxes to send back home. Still, I really don`t mind window shopping, but that`s a past time way down on Mr B`s love list. We did not go to the Mall often, in fact Mr B spent two days watching the cricket at a nearby bar, whilst Mrs B took the opportunity to catch up with some films. (non Christmas variety) I cannot believe, that Christmas 25 came and went without Home Alone ! We had just one evening out in KL, and that was to the cinema. We both really wanted to watch the new Zootopia 2. It was an evening to be well and truly spoilt by the most ignorant, loud, self important, little madam, that we have ever encountered. Nutshell. Family of 4. Two kids sat and watched the film, 2 ran riot to the point that we had to bed the parents to keep their children close by, and quiet. How very dare we ask them to control their children....lets just say the atmosphere and the film was well and truly spoilt. Don`t tar everyone with the same brush they say, but it did remind us of just how self important some people think they are, particularly in certain parts of the world. With our time coming to a close in KL, on the 10th in fact, and our plans to meet up with Daddy B not coming into fruition until the 15th, we had roughly a week to fill. We could go anywhere, so where should we chose, where did we choose ? Until next time K.L. or will next time be Singapore we wonder..