On our return from Europe, Mr Bunny made plans with his mummy bunny to take her on a families reunited tour, visiting various parts of Scotland and Northern England catching up with long time friends, distant family and old acquaintances whilst taking the time to spend some quality time alone with his mum. With our trip around Europe slightly tense and fraught at times, the decision for each of us to spend some time alone or with a different bunny was very much the right thing at the right time. Mr Bunny and his mum went to Scotland, Mrs Bunny and Little B packed our bags and went to Garda in Italy. I chose Lake Garda for a number of reasons, with reason number one, and the best reason of all, being the fact that we have been before, and we know the score. Mr B`s trip left on the 19th, but Mrs B had to wait for school to finish before Little B was free to cast off the chains of employment and join me. She finished on a Tuesday, so Wednesday 22nd we flew to Verona, no hanging around for us. Lake Garda We flew into Verona airport and caught the very conveniently parked up bus, marked Garda located right outside the airport exit, and we were on our way. It takes around 1 hour and 40 minutes to reach the Lake side town of Garda and our home for the next 9 days. For all the towns on the Lake you could visit, Garda is probably one of the quieter places and personally I am grateful for that. It seldom features on any of the numerous posts about Lake Garda with focus always being placed elsewhere. We would be staying in an apartment that we have stayed in before and knew the location well. It is also a mere 10 minutes walk from the bus station, a place that I was to come to frequent on an almost daily basis. Day One. Lets Walk to the Right. We wandered along the lakeshore until we reached the same pleasantly located cafe that Mr B and I had frequented just a couple of years earlier. Tiny bit gutted to see that the cafe and its very nice bakery selection had been reduced quite somewhat to just a few token sandwiches and maybe the odd croissant, but casting those unavailable calorific disappointments aside, the hot Tea remained the same, ditto the ice cold drinks, and Mrs Bunny sat back in one of the comfortable armchairs and contemplated the bliss of spending long days walking the shore with Little B, drinking tea, possibly taking in a few shops, maybe the market, or even an hour or two sat on the Lake shore watching the world go by or reading our books. Silly, silly Mrs Bunny... Meet Little B. Traveller and resort researcher extraordinaire. No sooner had the sun set on day one, Little B had a plan in situ. Starting with the infernal words ` I`ve been doing some research..` my heart sank. I knew there and then that my plans to do very little were sunk. " Tomorrow, I thought we could .....then the day after it`s.......Friday, is Market Day (I could live with that one...." and on weekends they have.....a plan for every day. Poor Mrs Bunny, bye bye peaceful cafe, nice to have met you Mr China Tea Pot, arrivederci comfy chairs. For all my sorrow at the prospect of long days ahead, what I do know, is whatever Little B cooks up, it will be worth it. She has dragged us to very special places in the past, ones that we would have missed without her. Friday is Market Day Garda market is huge, stretching the length of the Lakeshore. I want to say that it is cheap, but compared to our last visit, I`m not convinced anymore. I genuinely found the market quite pricy this year. Like all markets there are a few bargains to be found, but nothing on the scale of a few years ago. Be prepared for a large number of Chinese stall holders, absolutely nothing whatsoever wrong with their stalls, but lets just say they are not known for being polite. Mrs ` You So Fat` was probably the worst, when I went to hand little B a very small, (because she is) pair of trousers, and Mrs Stall Holder, uttered No, No, You So Fat! They no fit. So rude. Gardaland and Movieland Lumping these two consecutive days together, we had a blast! Catching the bus from Garda Bus Station, both parks are an easy 40-50 minute bus ride away. They are both excellent. Gardaland is very big, so much walking, but some great rides. A couple appeared to be unavailable, but we certainly managed to rack up some good experiences. For the first time, Mrs Bunny felt confident enough to go up in the sky gondola, a spaceship shaped seated viewing platform that rises high in the air, liked it so much we did it again. Mammut is a bit of a bone shaker, a very long mine train ride, but extremely rough. I`m going to skirt over Jumanji, just not a fan, but the Pirate ride, well hidden, is a lot of fun. The best ride of the day was a mouse type ride, we had real good laugh on that one. Movieland. This park looks so small on a map, but its small and mighty. This was a first for the both of us, but I would definitely go again. The rides are pretty special, with some superb effects. We did the jetboats and it was awesome!!! Vastly helped by bat ears bunny hearing the ride operators shout 2 ?? 2 ?? 2 people??? we were waaaaaaaay back in the queue, but right next to a bar that we could duck under and reach the front pronto. We must have bypassed 50 plus people. Just don`t look up, don`t make eye contact. She did the same at another ride as well. 2 available seats, not sat together, but so what? better than the one hour wait. We took our seats in the waiting area (an absolutely brilliant waiting system they have) the bus arrived, and every idiot raced for the doors to get better seats! it was crazy. We feigned ignorance and language barrier when I sat next to a guy who was saving the seat for his friend. She did the same on the seat for two next to me. My guy had a hissy fit and went in search of his companion, so we sat together. Yippee. Movieland? Very enjoyable. Sirmione. Little B really fancied a day on the lake, so we jumped on one of the many ferries and headed off to the peninsula of Sirmione. Having been to Garda many times, we have never been here, but we know that it is described as a much loved, very pretty touristy destination. One not to miss. The boat journey, we took the slow ferry, around 90 minutes, it was very pleasant, though not direct with the boat stopping at various locations for extra passengers. We finally arrived into Sirmione at the northern end of the peninsula. So busy. Busy, busy busy. We walked into the town, passing more Gelato shops than any other kind of shop, and just meandered about. Finding the town far to busy to be pleasant, we left the crowded streets and headed out of town down the peninsula. The nice shops fizzled quickly, and there was not a lot to see. Perhaps we did not walk far enough, but we walked long enough to realize we were slowly running out of people. We grabbed a drink, and headed back to the part with the Castle that you see on every photograph of Sirmione. Truthfully, we were quite dismissive. Seen the castle, now what? We had no interest in the overly busy beach. Thinking that maybe we had missed something, another part of the town perhaps, we headed back. The archway that we assumed led to parts unseen, went nowhere. There was a boat in the dock. We decided we had had enough and ran for it. Luckily for us this was the fast boat (20 minutes back to Garda) with basic tickets rapidly upgraded to fast boat tickets (an extra 9 euros or so) we left Sirmione wondering what all the fuss was about. Sirmione? Once and done for us, we were both happy to back in the quiet town of Garda. Malcesine Another town on the banks of Lake Garda that I have always wanted to visit, but never quite made it. Naturally with Little B, it was a must see. We caught yet another bus this time in the opposite direction and headed north. Malcesine has a ski lift/gondola ride that takes you to a high view point above the lake. What is it like? Not a scooby!!! Ski Lift? Gondola?? Not a chance! We headed instead for the town. It is very pretty, with its narrow cobbled streets, endless tourist shops, pretty harbour, boats to take you across the water to Limone, but it is just another town. Once again we were overwhelmed at just how many people were there. Nice as it was, I think the highlight of my day was meeting a lovely couple celebrating their anniversary, and with whom we had a very nice conversation about travel. Once again we were so glad to get to our little town of Garda. The more we see, the more we appreciate Garda. Garda Maybe I should talk a little more about this beautiful town? It is little! It is cute, it is peaceful and scenic, consists of just a few streets with shops selling nicer than average tourist tat. To me it is akin to finding what you need in a small town mini market, rather than a sell it all hypermarket. A small bakery with a little hideaway garden. Several restaurants hidden away down cobbled alleyways, whilst not Michelin (for foodies) are recommended by the Michelin Guide for good cooking. Small eateries with big personalities. The majority of people tend to linger around the waterfront, here there are many many side by side restaurants of all kinds, and all have the same ambient view of the Lake. The bus station is the shortest of walks from the lake front. Small shops selling wonderful lavender products, leather shops, and bags. This town is ideal for slowing down. Centrally located on the Lake. Just Perfect. You can walk the lakeside for miles, head left and you will quickly find yourselves at the edge of numerous camping villages. Motorhomes Galore! Yet sandwiched between road and lake they are not sprawling seas of camp life, in fact, I think they are nice places to be, compact, cosy, they look great. Bardolino The town that sits between Gardaland and Garda. Can be walked to from Garda?, its a goodly walk, but we preferred the bus option. We travelled to Bardolino with one purpose, to get a second bite of the the cherry, aka another Market. Wow! If we thought Garda market was huge, Bardolino felt infinitely bigger. Stretching for what feels like miles (but most unlikely) along the lake shore. Market walked, a few goodies purchased, we made our way into the town and were instantly in love. With wide open streets, space to breath, Bardolino became our second favourite place after Garda. Still dotted with many shops selling t.s, but also many shops selling nicer wares. If you think of Garda as the village, then Bardolino is your town. Nine days on Lake Garda, 8 days of sightseeing. No drama, no issues, no decision making, just two people enjoying a relaxing, much needed break, but with Mr Bunny making a bolt for freedom, and ready to leave his mum in more capable hands (sorry, I should add she had a fall, and needed medical, not just family care) it was time to pack our bags, and head for the airport and a flight to Albania, and Tirana, where we would be meeting up with Mr Bunny and further adventure. Goodbye Garda, until next time!

From the battlefields of Belgium we finished our Europe tour in yet another Theme Park, this time Efteling. Our most expensive stay of the trip but oh so worth it. We booked to stay in one of the Woodland Houses which are a short walk away, and on site of the theme park. I image it is a little like Centre Parks? Little detached houses, brick built, in a huge forest like area. Ours came with 3 bedrooms, a living room with furniture and fittings not entirely dissimilar to my own home, a kitchen and and two bathrooms. An outside seating area completes the scene. You could if you wish enter your room at 4pm, visit the park same day, the next two days, and again on the day that you leave, once you have packed your belongings up into your car and vacated the house. Such a good system. We bunnies however took the opportunity to check in, relax, order home delivery of the best pizza we have had in months (sorry Italy) and spent the evening with Pizza and Netflix. Perfect. Efterling. Whilst I consider Efterling to be a theme park aimed for children, there is certainly a lot to keep older bunnies occupied as well. There are excellent rollercoasters, crazy small rides, brilliant water rides, and great food. I could list every ride, what we did, the routes we took and what we ate, but doesn`t everyone view a park differently? With information about anything just a finger touch away, when my blog gets old your information will still be fresh and new. There is nothing overly scary at Efteling, and Arthur the ride is just so much fun. If you are looking for thrill seeking rollercoasters and hair raising rides, maybe this park isn`t quite what you are looking for, but families? absolutely. Cologne. With every intention of visiting Cologne, the Cathedral, the city itself, prior to flying home from there, we didn`t. Truth is we were tired, burnt out and simply could not find the motivation to walk a half mile to the railway station, to get a train, to trail the city, and do it all again to come home. The weather is just so hot with a heatwave boosting temperatures, and tempers. A very challenging trip at times, and Cologne will just have to wait for another day.....or not. Here`s looking at you Ryanair SuperBitch!! A quick note on how our trip ended. We have flown countless times, over many years, with the same suitcases, IT luggage, using Ryanair and just about every other budget airline going. Absolutely no issues. Lets face it, we flew to Poland, the start of our trip with Ryanair, and those suitcases. Yet according to the stuck up, power hungry super bitch at the gate of Cologne Airport, our cases were now too big!!. Too big to fit in the exact same luggage sizer that stands at every Ryanair gate flight. I would be absolutely delighted to name and shame that money grabbing frosty faced cow, but like any bully she would not give her name. Not just us, there were at least 4 or 5 other passengers donating £75, no doubt all going to fund her enrolment in charm school. Cologne Airport. You are a Ryanair Joke. Our tour is over, the bunnies are home. A fabulous trip but not without its challenges.

The journey continues. Leaving Austria behind we headed north into Bavaria aiming for the little town of Fussen. Bavaria is just stunning, the scenery, the views, the fresh air, the sense of space and peace. We are heading here purely to visit two castles, the extraordinarily beautiful Neuschwanstein and the nearby castle of Hohenschwangau. Neuschwanstein Castle, once the home of King Ludwig, and built high up on a mountain ridge is something quite special and fairy tale inspired. Very pleased to see that not too much has changed in the area around the castle since our last visit here 10 years ago. I really was expecting multiple new hotels, excessive tourists and tacky gift shops, but I am happy to report that the only obvious change was a larger car park, unless of course it has always been there and I just failed to see it. With an early afternoon timed entry, we arrived, as it suggested some 3 hours early. People, read!! the information provided is there for a reason!! You purchase entry tickets for the castle, or both castles, or even both castles and the museum from the official website, and you choose your time. Neuschwanstein visits are exquisitely well organised, well timed, and works. What does not work are butt lazy bunnies who assume they can just wander up 10 minutes after their entry time and think they can walk in! No, no and no! Arrive at the town with plenty of time to spare, the car parks are at `the bottom` the Castle is perched on a mountain! You need time to get there. Are you walking? Allow a comfortable 30mins to an hour depending on fitness. Going by bus? a little faster, but you may still have to wait if your chosen bus is full. Or how about horse and cart. The cart is powered I hasten to add, aiding the horse. We chose the horse, we had plenty of time to spare until our timed entry, over an hour and a half as I recall so the horse suited us . Yet we were accompanied by people whose entry time was just 15 mins later. The horse is slow. Very, very slow. What on earth were these people thinking? Did they really assume Dobbin would trot up the hill with his heavy load at a brisk pace? Nutshell. They were late. They were not admitted. They had to rebook onto a later tour some three hours later. We had zero sympathy. Were they the only people who casually wandered up late? No, it was actually incredible how entitled some people act, demanding that they join the next group because they missed their own. No, it does not work like that. The staff are incredibly tolerant and patient, finding ways to ensure people who are late, actually get to see the castle one way or another. Don`t be one of those people, just arrive on time, or preferably early. Neuschwanstein. My mum always wanted to visit Neuschwanstein, but it is not suitable for everyone, nor does it actively aim to cater for everyone either. If my mum had gone she would have stumbled at the first hurdle. The first thing you do when you enter the Castle, is climb around 90 steps up a spiral staircase. You can walk a little slower but you do need to keep up. Hot on your heels is the next tour group. It is not the only set of stairs either. Since our last visit, the tour has also gone personal. Silent. You are given headsets and your tour guide actually says very little, using a pointer to indicate the direction in which you need to look to view the objects or art as described in the audio. I do not want to say too much about the interior, except that it is worth the visit. `No expense spared` quoting John Hammond, and it is true here as well. Yet the castle is also unfinished. One minute you are walking through the most beautifully painted rooms, then as your tour ends, plain bland walls, ordinary ceilings and low key architecture. Ludwig died young, and with him the finished article. Is it worth the hype? Absolutely. And the stairs? There are many. Hohenschwangau. Neither bunny could remember anything about this second castle apart from the memory of buying a frog from the gift shop, and the easier walk to get to the Castle itself. After our tour, timed entry again, we remembered why we failed to recollect. It`s not very interesting.... I know that`s our personal opinion and subjective, but hmm, meh... Go by all means, but definitely visit this castle first so that the joy and pleasure of seeing Neuschwanstein after stays with you longer. We did it the other way round and were both tired and a little bored by the time the tour finished. Do not misunderstand, it is nice in its own way, but nothing at all like Neuschwanstein. Friedrichschafen. On our way to our next destination quite some distance north, a small museum popped up on our map. The Zeppelin Museum. Mrs Bunny here very much had the thoughts that this would be one of those cute little museums housing a few artifacts and would simply act as a quirky little break in our journey. I can hear voices screaming at me now, `so why didn`t you research it, google it, look into it`, because I didn`t! Its a balloon, its a war thing, not exactly Concorde why would it need more research? Whoops, silly me. The Zeppelin Museum turned out to be exceptionally interesting! Big oval balloons preventing airplanes from flying a said route thought I, and then that big one that failed spectacularly on film with those poor unfortunate souls on board. I admit it, this Bunny was woefully lacking in knowledge about the Zepellin and its uses. I will skirt over one half of the museum which was entirely boring (sorry), we whizzed through the art gallery not actually caring as to whether or not these average works of art were truly stolen by Germany from the Jews, or legally purchased, again (sorry) and headed directly to the main event. The partially reconstructed Zeppelin. Who knew, because I certainly did not, that the Zeppelin was an actual mode of transportation! I feel a bit of a numpty as I type this, but I genuinely thought it was an oversized weird shaped balloon with a bigger than average enclosed basket with seats, and a bit of a gimmick. I did not realise that this balloon was the forerunner for the commercial modern day airline. (Numpty moment number 2 coming up. Airship.... Nope, I did not twig!) Not just seats, but a dining area, small bedrooms akin to small rooms on a ship, a fully functioning galley, and unbelievably, a smoking room! The darn thing is filled with a flammable gas and they installed a smoking room?? There were also many zeppelins, judging by the numerous photographs dotted around the museum, and not always successful ones either judging by the amount of photos with the zeppelin lying on its side, or crashed, or landing in the wrong place entirely. I also did not appreciate that the Hangars at Cardington Nr Bedford UK, a place that I have passed often, were purpose built hangars in which to build airships for the Admiralty. Not a fan of museums that display weird mechanical artifacts attached to a whole lot of waffle, this Bunny hopped by the many cabinets and spent quite some time in the partially reconstructed zeppelin. They have built a cross section so you can appreciate the complexity of its Meccano like shell. Then the living space itself. The seats next to the windows that open, (do you recall the scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where he famously quotes "no ticket") and the reconstructed cabins. There`s crockery and cutlery, a menu (very impressive) So much more than the basket with seats of my imagination. Naturally there is a recording of the disaster caught on film, as the Hindenburg caught fire coming in to land. All in all a very interesting museum, and if time allows Lake Constance is right on the doorstep. I don`t normally mention our rooms, our accommodations, unless unique, quirky, or unforgettable, but the one that followed our trip to the museum was all of the above. Ignoring the fact that despite google maps telling us to turn right, unless we wanted to fall into a big hole, right was wrong. We could see where we wanted to be on a map, but there was no visible working road. Good job the car contained a female bunny, who opened her mouth and simply asked a local person, `how do we get to xx?` Trust the Germans to sort the problem with an open farm gate, rough stones, and a cardboard sign. No road? no problem, adapt a bit of farmland! . We drew up to this large hotel type building, with its own private church in the car park (a church?) more akin to seeing a bar, restaurant or swimming pool, a Church was decidedly not your usual onsite facililty. The silence of the reception was palpable, this was not your average hotel. This was a sanctuary, a refuge, a place of reflection, not quite a convent but very close. And these three bunnies turned up in shorts and holiday type t shirts, did we feel underdressed and out of place? oh yes, very much so. It was also situated a very long way from anywhere, miles from the nearest town and oozed peace and solitude. Fabulous if you like that sort of thing, but these three bunnies were hungry. `Can we eat here?` our quiet host responded that the dinner was being served at 7. We noted her glance at our choice of clothing, and changed into more subdued attire, shirts for the boys, a dress, brought for emergencies such as this, for Mrs B. Clearly not a restaurant, our simple repast consisted of chicken fillet, noodles, and a small serving of vegetables. You may chose a drink from the machine. There was no dessert. We wandered around the `hotel` building to get a feel of where we were staying, and modern day church comes to mind. The open rooms religiously decorated. The Bible was everywhere. Quiet rooms with comfortable chairs. Mr B and Daddy B spotted a small fridge containing beer and suddenly all was good again in their little world. Mrs B had a bottle of water that we brought with us. Our rooms were tiny, neat and contained a small container of Holy Water in a wall mounted jar. Personally I would have preferred a kettle and a few tea bags hum te tum. Our decor was (I think) a verse from Psalms? No television. The shower. I have to mention the shower. We didn`t fit. None of us. Not even close. We couldn`t get through the door. I would try and help you conjure the image of a chubby bunny trying to insert one leg, then one boob through the narrow gap, but in this particular establishment, I fear regaling this image to anyone would provoke several Hail Marys, and one Holy Mother. One night there was more than sufficient. We left after breakfast, (fruit. cereal. yoghurt.) Europa Park - Rust- Germany As far as theme parks go, this has to come a very close second to our precious Mickey Mouse related parks. Any of them. Funnily enough Europa Park also has a mouse as its character logo, but this little mouse will never be in the same league to his distant cousin. Europa Park is fabulous. The Theming around each land is just superb. Loosely resembling Epcot in the way that it has Countries for Areas, that is where the resemblance finishes. Europa Park just does it so much better. (sorry Epcot) To fully appreciate all that the park has to offer, two days would be recommended. I personally think the park has too much to offer to try and cram it all into one day. There is something here for everyone. From your thrill seeking adrenaline junkies, to small tots who can barely walk. Everyone can find a little place of magic. Of all the fast rollercoasters available to us, we chose only one. We admit it, we were bunny wusses in every sense. One of us suffers badly with headaches, one bunny was still suffering hip problems, and my lovely Mr B had many more miles of driving to do and was being just overly cautious not to chance any back jarring rides. We did however partake of all the water rides, many of the tamer rides, and absolutely rode any Suitable for kids of any age rides. There are a few hotels immediately in the close vicinity to the park, but we chose an apartment, that had a bedroom window just far enough off the ground... Strasbourg Right on the border between France and Germany this small town has belonged to both countries over the years, before settling down into its present French knickers. I had chosen a hotel with a close proximity to a bus station, but Mr Bunny preferred his four wheels to a walk and a bus ride. Parking was a little easier than we expected, and the underground carpark was extremely centrally located. Leaving via a different exit point into the middle of a cobbled walking street was a little unnerving, but not wrong. We went into the city on two separate occasions. On our first excursion we opted to tour as we have previous cities, using a scenic bus tour. Actually a small town train, but still fitted with headphones and commentary. Tour one I called the Building Tour. For non building connoisseurs such as we three bunnies, we uttered words like `pretty` or `different` or `unusual`, for those of you with a penchant for architecture I am certain words like Renaissance, Gothic, Tudor or Classical would spout freely from your lips. Tour one was fine, it was out of town, was a decent length, showed you a different side of Strasbourg and passed a wee bit of time. Tour Two however, I shall call the Pretty Busy Tour. This time we drove in and around the extremely pretty area of Petite France. No wonder they call this town the most picturesque town for a Christmas market. It genuinely is quite lovely and quaint. The buildings are so old, akin to the town of Chester, or York, but even nicer. With the larger number of people milling about, we could almost window shop as we wound our way along the narrow streets. Whilst I am not sure that I have a reason to revisit Strasbourg itself, I wouldn`t hesitate to go in the winter months and see this small area all lit up in Christmas glory. Summer?meh. Christmas? absolutely! Wars and Battles . Napoleon. WW1. Passchendaele. Ypres The latter part of our trip was our History Tour. The places that Daddy B had a personal hankering to visit. We started at Genappe, and the nearby town of Waterloo, the home, of course, of the Battle of Waterloo. With Daddy B a huge history buff, it was nice to share his love of history with visits to the Three Museums of Waterloo. They are covered by one ticket, called the 1815 ticket. One museum is where Napolean held his final meeting, a small unassuming farmhouse on the side of what is now a very busy road. Small and thoughtful is how I would best describe it. The second Museum, and largest, is The Lions Mound, or to give it its correct name, Butte de Lion. The Lions mound, is a monument on the top of a very large, conical hill, with a huge flight of stairs that you can ascend at your leisure to stand alongside the wonderful and majestic Lion Statue. Not to detract from the nature of the area but three bunnies puffed their way up these stairs, as a young sprightly teenager ran past us, then down past us...and up past us, and down past us, some crazy fitness test we assume....We finally caught up with him at the top, we were huffing and puffing (the stairs are very steep) whilst he sat and whistled along to a tune that no doubt he was hearing through his headphones. The mound surveys the whole of the Battlefield, with the actual museum cleverly hidden underground to avoid changing the landscape where so many soldiers died. An excellent museum telling the moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day story of the Battle of Waterloo. Even for persons not entirely interested in History, this Museum is very well designed and interesting for all. The last museum was the stronghold location and key to the winning of the Battle, Hougoumont Farm. The last of the three museums, but certainly not one to miss if you appreciate your history. Here we sat though yet another rendition of the Battle Timeline, in the unlikely location of the Barn. How much of the original farm exists is anyone` s guess, but it is nice to sit in a place of history. Sad little tale. What happened to all the soldiers who died in Battle? There are no graves, no markers? They were recycled. All the bodies were ground up to make bone fertiliser. It is also the reason why finding an intact skeleton from the war is very rare. So many men lost to the earth with no memorial or name. Ypres, Passchendaele, and a personal tribute. The Menin Gate is located at Ypres. This is the only reason we visited this City. Ypres is actually a beautiful town, and the town hall is simply magnificent. However it is the moving ceremony, held every single night of the year since 1928 at the memorial gate that drew us there. Despite the intense heat, we dressed in a manner to respect the solemnity of the occasion, and made our way to the Gate at 7.15pm For a mere ten minutes we stood alone, then the whole area filled with people so rapidly it was as though every bus in town had dropped off its passengers right there. (hadn`t but felt like it) Like a well oiled finely tuned machine, the attendees laying a wreath were drilled, the road was closed, the buglers arrived, the organiser barked orders to the crowd. On the stroke of 8 the Last Post was played and you could hear a pin drop. Intensely moving. We stood in silent tribute to the fallen until the Buglers once again raised their instruments and played Reveille. For anyone who does not know, the Menin Gate is a tribute, to the fallen heroes of WW1 who sadly do not have a grave of their own, the names of which adorn the walls as a collective yet personal memory. Deeply moving. Passchendaele I cannot begin to type with confidence about the Battle of Passchendaele as I have to admit that whilst I recollect the name, I did not know why. A museum that is well worth the visit, and most certainly leaves you with a knowledge of a War that no man should have ever had to endure. I prefer not to talk about our visit there, as I could not begin to do the story justice. I do firmly believe however that anyone interested in history, and the Great War would find it very moving. War Graves I humbly apologise for failing to recall the names of the War Graves Sites that we visited. We went to two, and those rows upon rows of silent white crosses made me feel so sad. We walked around both Military Grave Yards reading the names of the fallen and their ages, many just so young. As we made to leave for our next destination, Mr Bunny`s Mum messaged to say that if we were anywhere near Meteren Military Cemetery we would find the grave of Mr Bunny`s Great Grandfather James Briggs who died on 17th April 1918. Find him we did. A poignant moment. And on we go.

This is the trip we planned with a different dynamic. Three bunnies but this time Mr and Mrs B along with Daddy B. A trip intended to take in favourite places, new places, places of history and importance, and just a few fun and because places. We will be visiting Poland, Germany, Austria, France, Belgium and the Netherlands. A trip we will not forget in a hurry. The Journey Begins Poland We flew into Krakow with a view to spending just two days in the city to visit places that I personally feel everyone, no matter their age (over 15 that is) should go. Auschwitz/Birkenau and the Schindler Museum. Auschwitz. Nobody should ever forget the time in history when one person decided millions should die, for no reason whatsoever except the fact that they were different, or Jewish. Auschwitz was not the only concentration camp during the War but it is the one that is most complete, and evokes the most gut wrenching feelings of `why`? Why was this allowed to happen? I have to say that after our rather chatty bus of around an hour to the place where Auschwitz is situated my heart sank, so many cars, endless buses and coaches, people milling around, have they really turned this place of murder and horror into a tourist hub? No. They have not. The singular building, black, understated, houses a bathroom. A machine provides drinks, maybe a few basic snacks. No garish posters, no tourist shops, a simple entry system in a large sparsely furnished atrium where you pick up an audio headset. No colour, no larger than life people, everything quiet, practical. We were placed into a large group, put on the headsets, and from there on, Silence. The only voice was that of the guide. You walk silently as a group into the camp, listening as a voice in your ear reels off the names of people who were murdered there. The voice never stops. The sense of incredulity at the scale of the place before you renders you dismayed. The buildings that housed the people were not temporary affairs, they were brick built and solid. No makeshift roofs, a few wooden buildings, no, just row after row after row of solidly built units. It is truly sickening to see for yourself the scale of the murderous efficiency of this camp. Built for one purpose only. If you could stand, you worked, if you could not, you were `selected` and murdered. Nothing in between. Different buildings, adapted in recent years to escort large groups of people, each contain their own story. The hospital sickened me the most. Why would a camp with a sole purpose of murder, have a hospital? So that one sick minded German `doctor` could use these particular people of `no worth` to conduct the most hideous experiments. The nearer you walk to the final solution, the more poignant the reminders. A room full of suitcases, carefully labelled. Shoes, so many shoes you cannot comprehend how many people, then you realise that the next room houses shoes of the children. Spectacles by the thousands. Human hair by the tonne. The tour itself was conducted in a very matter of fact manner. I am unsure if our guide lacked emotion, or if by giving you the cold hard facts in a forthright manner helped supress the overwhelming inner feelings of grief, anger and sadness. Prior to coming on the tour each of us had a pain that was hard to control, whether it be pain of standing, back pain, or the debilitating pain of a trapped nerved, but here at Auschwitz teeth got gritted and determination sets in. What the people of Auschwitz suffered put our own afflictions into a perspective so trivial and gave us fierce respect for the innocent victims. Our last walk through, was the Gas Chamber. I looked at the people around me, they would have been naked, scared, shaved, barefoot, men, women and children, and I took that walk trying to breath in the last air i would take, see the sky for the last time. I walked into that Gas Chamber with 25 other people. I walked out, alive, with 25 people. Millions walked through those doors, but did not exit. Their bodies loaded onto trolleys and systematically cremated. Let us never forget. Birkenau. I wish I could tell the story of this camp, but alas our guide spoke far too quietly and I heard not one word. I absolutely refused to mention my own personal difficulties whilst at this heart breaking scene of human misery and torture, but we are living in a modern society now where such atrocities should not (but we know are) taking place, and feel I ought to mention the fact that both Auschwitz and Birkenau cover huge areas. You will be standing, or walking for long periods of time. Be prepared. Oskar Schindler Factory This factory is now a museum of history, the history of the people, the workers, the German Officers, how a German Nazi Officer saw potential to make money through the sacrifice and victimisation of the Jewish people. Oskar Schindler was a good man, to a point, but he was a Nazi. Did he save everyone? No, he used his position for both profit and good. The factory is large, and without a guide perhaps a little hard to follow. I feel it is a place that should be visited to fully understand the story. I would however recommend a guide. Truth be known, I lost my respect and understanding for the factory, interesting as it was, when a tourist handed his phone to his wife, and posed with a great big grin, next to the flag depicting the swastika. I felt myself seethe with anger, and if looks could kill, that b*star would be stone cold right now. How dare you smile and consider that appropriate behaviour! Incidentally that flag is forbidden to be displayed in Germany, this is Poland however, and a Museum. If the film Schindler`s List compels you to visit the factory, then prepare for disappointment. The film is mostly historically accurate, the list itself is not. There are some records, there were lists made. Nothing is left. Oskar Schindler Germany Munich. Like many of our cities on this tour we would stay two nights only. One day to drive, stop, sleep, Day two Tour. The first city on the list, home of Ocktoberfest, the very beautiful Munich. With a couple of bunnies having old man walking troubles, Mrs B /decided that walking was not an option and booked the HoHo Bus. (hop on/hop off).Two different routes. I would simply describe Munich, in my opinion, as Clean, Smart and Efficient. The last time we came to Munich it was raining, there were endless roadworks, traffic jams and traffic cones. This time it felt like a different city. Added to the natural heat of the month, this trip would also coincide with a summer heatwave. It would make for some tiring days and less active than usual ones. We stayed out of town using the option of an easy walk to the Train Station as our mode of transport to the city. This year is also World Cup Year, and right now Germany is still a contender. Mr B was certain every pub would be showing the match and eagerly went to the restaurant bar next door one evening to enjoy the atmosphere there...and returned five minutes later totally incredulous saying that the bar tender had told him that no bar in the area would likely be playing the football! Austria Salzburg. The first of four stops in our favourite country, Austria. Staying slightly out of town again in what can only be described as one of our nicest hotels for a long time (bar the fact that we had no air conditioning) and came with a view that could only been described as magnificent. We had planned to drive into the town, but with free public transport tickets included in our stay, and a bus stop a short walk away, the choice of paying overly expensive parking fees or taking a bus was a non starter. We love Salzburg, the home of the Sound of Music with all its iconic places of interest, a tour that incidentally I have never chosen to take! I have seen the film, but have I seen the film enough to be able to recognise all the key spots? Perhaps not. Tours are equally quite expensive, visiting places that were used in a film almost 60 years ago (yep, its that old) is quite some cashing in. We didn`t see all the horses and carts that were in the city a few years ago either? But with some quite hefty roadworks, street works in action, perhaps they were having a rest? Mr B and I had planned to go to the museum again, but alas a third bunny failed to be interested. The Haus der Natur is an excellent natural history museum with a lot of interesting, hands on exhibits. A few years ago we had a lot of fun here, unfortunately not an experience we were to enjoy again this time. Another year maybe...Instead we opted for a non Sound of Music tour, and had an experience akin to the descriptions of the Night Bus in Harry Potter. Our very speedy driver flung his bus around his route at quite some pace, hovered long enough for the audio spiel to complete, and woosh we were off again! We completed our tour in 60 mins flat. Salzburg is a very pretty, easily walked small city. Situated on both sides of the river. The original home of Mozart, and `that` scene in Knight and Day where Tom Cruise jumps easily from hotel balcony into the river....Ha! Go see for yourself.....The fraud of good ole movie making. Hallstatt Described as the prettiest town in Austria, with its picture postcard location and the false and misleading stories that it was the inspiration for the Disney film town of Arendelle, (it wasn`t) also aided and abetted by the Instagram brigade, this little town lives up to its reputation for being very pretty. With experience of hyped up places we took to the road early and headed for Halstatt at 7.30am. With blissfully clear roads all the way, we even wondered if we were on the correct route. You approach Halstatt through a long mountain cut tunnel, two tunnels in fact, one out, one in, and arrive into this very picturesque small town. We knew parking was going to be hard and at a premium, hence the early arrival. We did have accommodation booked in the town, very, very expensive accommodation I may add, but still went early just in case. We were not the first cars in the small car park. We were however one of the first tourists, so we were able to wend our way through this beautiful little town without the loud noise and chatter that mass tourism brings. Whilst exceptionally pretty, and a joy to be there, you really do have to feel for the people who live in the town. Prior to Instagram, I wonder if they displayed then the frequently seen, `This is our town, not a museum, we live here, please be quiet and considerate` type notices that adorned many doors? We were very careful to be respectful, quiet and low key tourists, but it was clear that walking back through the town later that day, many people are not that considerate. En masse tour groups, babbling loudly, standing under peoples windows talking, bored kids running around yelling, half eaten ice cream tubs left abandoned anywhere and everywhere. Halstatt is picture perfect. The tourist groups are not. Incidentally, the small supermarket, poorly stocked, was one of the most expensive shops we have encountered. Was it worth staying in Halstatt? No. Stay anywhere else bar Halstatt assuming of course you have transport. With hindsight and hands on knowledge, I would simply recommend an early start, be amongst the first people in the town, enjoy your time there, and leave. Austria is far too beautiful to get hung up on one small town with its silly overpriced rooms. Go, see, leave. Hallstatt Bertchesgarten Staying anywhere close to Bertchesgarten was a non starter, at least for our humble budget. The nearest place I could find was the small town of Ramsau. I initially booked one room and one caravan, as that was all the property appeared to have left on booking.com. I wasn`t entirely bothered as the photos looked glorious. One set of comments remarked `a perfect place to stay for a rural experience`. Suited us! We climbed, ahem, drove...up into the hills, passing stunning detached properties in true Austrian style, wooden flower decked balconies, steep roofs, and stunning positions, wondering each time, `which one was ours` then we found it. A very plain, rectangular box shaped house, no balcony, no flowers, and in a dip!!! Totally surrounded by trees, every hill, vale and mountain vanished from view. It was also run by the Clampetts.....Met by `Jed`, he grunted and gestured towards the caravan, in a field, surrounded by chickens, and said, I have a room if you prefer. We did. We did prefer. Have to say that the room offered was actually very clean and pretty, old fashioned, but pretty. It also had the biggest wall tv we have ever seen! We never actually watch tv, but we would have been watching the equivalent of cinema size had we chosen to. The second room had no tv. The lack of was never mentioned. Not once.. Not wishing to name the property, or the owners, lets just say that fly filled warm breakfast room, and the mouldy jam did not endear us to partake of any breakfast product that did not come wrapped or from a fridge. Mrs Clampett was visibly cross that we objected to her jam, and was equally rude and suspicious when Daddy B dared to venture through a wrong door with a bag, said bag she grabbed from him inspecting it thoroughly for what I wonder? Theft? So rude. The bag, incidentally, contained garbage, and he was looking for the bin! We arrived, stayed, slept, day two Eagles Nest, returned, slept, left. Not a place I would recommend for more than a night or two. Our evening food was purchased from Lidl in the nearest town. Bertchesgarten. With research done as to the best time to go, (morning) and tickets for the first bus booked, 9am, we headed off on day two, to one of the most spectacular viewpoints we have been to in a long while. The knowledge that a certain person of the anuls of history was in charge of the positioning of the Eagles Nest, (personally I see no reason to keep referring to this mass murderer by name), was cast to the back of my mind. Absolutely every brick and stone of It`s house has been, and rightly so, destroyed. There is no sign of this particular structure having ever existed, but the Eagles Nest remains intact. Built purely to entertain by day, it is not, and never has been a hotel of any sort. What it was, and what it is now, is much the same. A place to wine and dine and admire the view. From the car park at the bottom of the hill you can either hike to the top, 1.5-3 hours depending on your fitness levels, or take a rather comfortable and slightly hair raising bus ride to the top. This stunning winding road took only 13 months to build, an incredible feat of engineering. The modern electric buses wend their way effortlessly up the switch back mountain, no cars, just the official buses. The views are nothing short of spectacular, especially when the road teeters on the edge of a vertical cliff, and down is a long long way. If you are of a slightly nervous disposition, I would suggest a good book, blinkers, and sit on the opposite side of the bus! Arriving at the `top` bus park, the well timed buses seeming to arrive and leave together. the journey took around 15/20 mins tops. This bunny arrived and was not looking forward to the final leg of the journey. It is actually the reason that I have avoided the Eagles Nest on previous trips, The Elevator inside the mountain. A long tunnel walk, wide, smart, brings you to a medium sized domed room. (Once upon a time I believe this space doubled as a wine cellar). A smart brass door is the Elevator. With a queasy memory of the film 33 and that tiny one man lift box jolting its way inside a rocky mountain, my nerves were frayed. The brass doors opened, and Wow !!! A large, brass, mirrored, human lift operator, stool, cctv and complex communication system clearly visible, this lift was no more scary than your average 5* Hotel lift. The space is immaculate, the rise smooth. The building, the Eagles Nest, is not very big at all. A meeting room, indoor restaurant, I assume seasonal? kitchen, bathrooms and a sun corridor make up the main part of the building, it is the outdoor space, the large cafe terrace, the view points, the walk to the cross, that makes the visit worthwhile. Yes, there is history there, photographs etc, but it is not a museum, nor is it a place to go if you feel an urge to learn more about said nameless person of history. There are some well written blogs about the Eagles Nest that suggest that there is a lot more to the place, personally I now feel said blog is a little exaggerated and over eggs the place a little. I was also led to believe that the restaurant was expensive, it was not, and that the restaurant menu was limited to pork based ingredients, whilst the restaurant itself was not open, the menu suggested otherwise. Innsbruck We started our brief time in Innsbruck with a viewpoint. Not just any viewpoint, but the one at the top of the Ski Jump. We came here a few years ago and wanted to share the experience with Daddy B. Gloriously quiet, very few tourists, a crazy vertical cable car/train to the summit of the lift, followed by a lift to the highest point and its cafe . Such spectacular views over Innsbruck. We can only imagine what it must be like for the jumpers, who still use this place even in summer, to practise their jumps in such a lovely location. If they miss their landing, or overshoot, (unlikely, but....) the well placed graveyard sits just over the wall from the ski jump at the bottom!. I am gutted to say that I missed filming a young guy doing a jump by mere seconds, I was filming, clicked off, and was in the process of putting my go pro away when I heard `flomp` behind me as he landed!! I asked him if was going again, he said Yes, but then he spotted the Ice Cream truck, and that was that. The three bunnies had very nice drinks and cake at the cafe at the top of the ski jump. Our next stop in Innsbruck was the Alpine Zoo. A zoo for Alpine animals, who by their very name prefer cold, and snow. We managed to spot one tiny mouse and two pigs, as just about every other animal on sight was huddled inside their ice cold caves or hutch. Cant blame them. For a Zoo on a mountain side, during a heatwave, if I was a bear, I too would have been hiding out. Innsbruck itself is a lovely town, we feel very comfortable there. I wish I could expand more on its history and architecture, museums etc, but alas our bunny dynamic was more suited to a quick hop, a look see, then leave. Other than the zoo, we could have visited the nearby Kristallwelten, home of Swarovski. Whilst we did not chose to visit this place, I can remember enough from a previous visit to not need to go again. Kristallwelten. In brief. Pretty, sparkling, some nice exhibits and things of interest. The scenic pool was nice, but the crystal clouds surrounding the pool looked grey and dull, despite the fact that they are (or were back then) made up of millions of tiny crystals. It was the shop that, well quite frankly disgusted me. Set out like a cheap tourist shop of mass produced items the endless amounts of rows and rows of Swarovski necklaces, hang limply on basic displays, some tangled, some even just lying on the floor like they were worthless bits of tat. Yet all these necklaces were displayed with 60/70 100 euro price tags, some even more so! Personally I have never seen such amounts of jewellery so casually or randomly displayed with such contempt. It made the brand look cheap. My last visit was 10 years plus ago. Has it changed? I wonder... And the journey continues..

This island really was going to be swift hello goodbye kind of visit. We learned the hard way that the islands are very expensive, Uber taxis overpriced, public transport good, but not entirely reliable and accommodation a little pricy. With hindsight, Sardinia, unlike Sicily, would definitely have been a good place to hire a car. The first signs we saw as we left the airport were signage for motorhome sites and camping. Thinking we were going to experience another crazy busy island like Sicily, we thought this odd. Just three stays on Sardinia, flying into Alghero on the north west coast, and out from Olbia on the north east coast. Alghero This stay began badly with a late flight and a grumpy room owner who despite having booking.com reviews stating that he accepted late night check ins, refused. We had paid in advance which was most annoying and so ended up having to book a nearby airport room with the frustration of losing one nights money at grumpys place. We refused to cancel the booking in full as that would have been an expensive loss. Turns out that Grumpy didn`t actually want us to stay, and cancelled the booking regardless. Cue Mr Bunny`s choice of alternative. Cannot fault the one nights stay at the airport hotel, the owner picked us up, and within 15 minutes of landing we were blissfully ensconced in the most deliciously comfortable beds. Such a pity this room was miles from the city, and a mere stones throw from the airport. Room two, and one of Mr Bunny`s choosing. I must add that anything money, travel and transport is Mr Bunny`s department, whilst Mrs B arranges hotels and where we stay/go. With the rude text messages from Grumpy still in the forefront of Mr B`s mind, he decided that we should stay somewhere `nice`. Mr B`s idea of `nice` is also usually much more expensive than Mrs B`s. And therefore it was here that we begged to differ in our choices. Mrs B had her eye on a 9,2 rating bunny hutch with everything we would need, whilst Mr B won with his more expensive apartment, also with a 9.2 rating, but with the added bonus that you could choose either to watch tv, or the other person in the shower. Mr B is about to commit bunnycide, as I have every intention of posting said proof in this blog! such a nice view from the sofa.... Alghero is quite a nice little town, we were located in the old part which I would best describe as petite and walkable. We didn`t really find a lot to see or do there, but for easy walks and views over the sea, it was quite pleasant. A lot of restaurants, but not a lot of cafes, quick stop places for breakfast were few and far between so we ate the same breakfast at a little gelateria that we found on all three mornings. We are learning the hard way that two night stays are very hard work. No sooner do you find a mini routine, then your on the move again. Alghero was no exception, with our next stop beckoning us onwards. Castelsardo. Our second stop. Chosen for its halfway position between Alghero and Olbia. Another very, very expensive stay, in fact staying in the town itself was a non starter such were the high prices, and therefore our out of town hotel in the area of Lu Bagnu around 2 miles from Castelsardo, would be our next bunny hutch for the coming two nights. We caught a bus from Alghero to the railway station in Alghero, then from Alghero a train to Sassari, the nearest place we could get to on the train. At Sassari we then had a very long wait in what appeared to be a on oversized car park. Bus stops were dotted around its periphery but no buses. One bus did come into the `bus station` and stopped at the same place each time, we guessed this was the local town bus but there were no others. More and more people appeared, locating themselves at various different bus stops, with the majority of people standing with us at stand eleven, waiting patiently for the bus to Castelsardo. After an interminable wait the bus finally arrived at 2.30. With Mr B watching every move on his phone, making sure we did not miss our stop, just a swift 45mins later we alighted the bus that conveniently stopped right outside our next hutch. We were welcomed into the hotel by very excited staff, who were delighted to tell us that we were amongst the first guests to arrive on this, their very first day of the new holiday season. In light of this they had upgraded us to a room with a balcony, we were so happy, for a whole ten minutes, then we entered our room and saw said balcony. Brick wall view anyone? With the hotel restaurant not quite ready for guests that evening, we were recommended a nearby Eateria called Moby Dick. Not exactly a restaurant, more a landing pad with plastic sides. They too had no food for us, stating that we had arrived after lunch and prior to their dinner serving. Taking pity on us, (I think Mr B had the hang dog look of a starved man about him), they made us a couple of fresh sandwiches which to be fair were very nice. For a little bit of dessert we grabbed a couple of ice creams from their fridge and ate them sat on rocks over looking the sea. Castelsardo. We thought we could see this town just up the coast and made plans to walk. Closer map inspection and we decided what we could see was a nearby village, and Castlesardo itself a comfortable bus ride away. Bus it was. After breakfast, and give the hotel credit, a very nice breakfast it was too, we caught the bus and headed up the coast. After a very pleasant coastal drive, the bus turned one more corner, and oh my goodness what a pretty sight befell us. The prettiest little town set into the valley and rising up into the hills. Then high up on the rocky hillside sat a castle like structure. Not a full blown castle, but something similar. The bus? went right to the very top! Yeah! Happy to say this was not the busiest place we have been to, so it was lovely to walk around. It was actually a pity that we had had such a decent breakfast, I for one felt bad about walking past so many nice looking restaurants but feeling far too sated to eat anytime soon. We bought our usual souvenir pin badge, and felt bad again. We ticked every box for the hit and run tourist and I felt awful. The big hoo ha re tourists is that we, the royal we, swarm towns, buy cheap food, cheap souvenirs and leave again. Personally I think its the cruise ships that are biggest problem, but we, the two bunnies, are a little in the hit and run category. With backpacks not suitcases, extended travel not short trips, tiny souvenirs and economic meals are our personal choices as well. Is there an answer? We did chose to have drinks in the town, sat in a cafe on the beach, but still no food. A bus back to the hotel, and an evening meal at the Trattoria opposite the hotel. The food was lovely, the prices were not. When you add tax, bread and gratuities, your average meal price hikes up considerably. Olbia Bunnies on the move again. Last stop for Sardinia, and to Olbia we go. Just 94kms away, this journey was to take 8 hours. Started with yet another very long wait for bus number one. Seventy minutes in fact. We waited so long, that Mr B started to get twitchy that our validated bus tickets were going to expire before we had even set foot on the bus. Into Sassari we landed, after the bus arrived with just 10 minutes to spare to our ticket expiration time. At the train station we asked for the time of the train, 2.45. It was now 11.45. We chose not to validate at that time, and by chance the conversation was overheard and we got told by a passerby that in fact the train was a bus due to line works, and that the train would be picked up further down the line. Naturally we still thought the leaving time was 2.45. We duly went to a nearby bar, bought 2 beers and one coffee, only to be told on leaving that Mr B had only paid for one beer and one coffee. Cue a very cross Bunny, and a furious tap tapping into google translate how he had paid card for one set of drinks, and cash for his second beer. The owner was not for agreeing, and in the end dismissed us with a curt, Prego! Usually this term is a term used for `your welcome` but can also be used at times of sarcasm and annoyance. We walked and did not look back. Leaving early was the best thing we could have done, as the train replacement bus was parked and accepting passengers. Another 10 minutes and we would have missed it. The journey to the station bypassing the line works took us on the motorway. What a bizarre experience! There was quite literally just two vehicles on the road. Our bus, and the bus in front. We have never seen a road like it. Not just the motorway either, every road we saw was devoid of movement. Even weirder, we passed a brand new road being built! Begged the question why? One hour of trafficless road later we arrived at a train station in the middle of nowhere, yet very busy. The train was in, but could we validate those tickets???? Nope. Machines not working. Mr Bunny in a panic at not being hit with a 150euro fine each for non validated tickets, promptly bought us two more using an online app that self validated. And breathe. We finally made Olbia, just grab a quick Uber and we are nearly at our new bunny hutch. Or not. Not a single taxi could we get. Not even the overpriced Uber Black would respond. Two weary, fed up bunnies faced the long walk to our new hutch. On the way we passed a large stadium with some rousing music being played, we tried to dash across the road in the hope of a sneaky listen to a free concert.....and then the whistle blew. It was a football match, the music? Their National Anthem. grrr. Like Palermo, we were too far out to walk back into Olbia to check out the town. Deciding there and then that as neither Sicily nor Sardinia were places that we would probably return to, we cut our losses, stayed home, and watched films. Food came from the cheapest supermarket ever, and picnic we did. The final nail in the coffin for this Island was jobsworth at the airport. For the first and only time in 200plus flights, or since 2018 in fact when it was purchased, Mrs B was asked to remove her bangle. Piffling little airport, still flying to another Italian airport, and jobsworth insisted. We were done. The bangle by the way when constantly opened and closed, changes it shape, hence my preference to leaving it alone, and in situ. Arrivederci!

From Malta we jumped to Sicily, a massive 35 minutes away by plane. We really want to experience countries further afield, but alas for now, at least whilst this orange twit is causing flight issues long haul, we are going to keep to Europe and explore a few places of interest. I remembered far too late that Sicily belongs to Italy, slight glitch in the old memory bank there, but still, we love Italy, so why not visit its islands? Sicily. We have only a short time here, just enough to sample its delights and decide whether or not it is an Island that requires further investigation. We flew into Catania, and first impressions were not good. From the bus, and only on the bus route I add, we saw a lot of graffiti, dirty streets, scruffy unkempt buildings, and a lot of derelict property. Not the best start. Saying that, as the bus continued, the scenery just got nicer and nicer. Normally we get from airport to accommodation by Uber or similar, but that`s not happening here with their crazy prices. From Airport to Taormina, around £200, bus £6 (ish). We could also have got there by train, but I am so glad we chose the bus. What we didn`t realise is that Taormina sits at the top of a huge hill. The train would have pulled into the station at the bottom, and we would still have faced either a crazy hike, expensive taxi, or local bus. The bus we were on climbed to the very top of this hill, wending its way up the hillside with a series of hairpin turns. Reaching such turns, if any car driver spotted the bus they automatically changed roads sides to allow the bus the extra road width. Such a neat effective road manoeuvre. On reaching the summit and the town, our little b&b was just a hop step and a jump away. Mr B was still feeling a little uncomfortable so the short walk was appreciated. Taormina. A cruise port, hence our first thoughts that it was going to be a portside town, not a hilltop destination. Happy to say we were delighted that there were no cruise ships docked today as Taormina is just the prettiest little town, narrow streets, tiny shops, cobbled walkways, and peaceful coffee shops. The first evening we did not walk too far, as we are learning that travel days are just exhausting and we are at our best in a morning, not after a day of travel. Breakfast, provided by our host, such a lovely woman who wittered away constantly without taking a breath, all in Italian, but including the occasional word in English, followed lots of Si? Si ! Si?? We have no idea what she was saying, but she seemed happy enough with our limited positive responses. Other guests included a little boy and his dad, who were Italian/Spanish, and a Spanish Volcanologist who intimated that while she spoke broken English, she had clearly no desire to speak to us. Such a strange young woman, and the only person we have known to bring their own breakfast food to a dining room ignoring any provisions supplied by the host. We had every intention of visiting the ancient Amphitheatre of Taormina that morning, but as we got closer it appeared that every school year group from every school in the area had plans to go there as well. So many children! Not just children either, clearly whilst not cruise tourists, there were plenty of other tour groups. We gave it a swerve with the thoughts that it would probably be a lot quieter later in the day. At 4pm we tried again, and were rewarded by one of the best theatre views we have had in a long time. We sat for so long just looking down onto the town, from the ancient seating. What a spectacular setting for any modern outdoor show, with its new stage and wooden decks, this ancient theatre is clearly still being used to good effect. At the very top of the seating rows I spotted this bronze statue of a woman, nobody was paying it any attention, nobody standing around admiring it, it was just there, in an odd place. I failed to take its picture as well, nude women even stationary bronze ones don`t turn my head. Even Mr Bunny did not notice it. If you fancy reading a highly convoluted and exceptionally boring statement about this statue, google Taormina bronze statue. Download at bedtime for a sure fire way of sending yourself to sleep. Despite this naked woman having its old world tour, it now stands largely ignored at the top of the amphitheatre. What an odd concept. Taormina is a very pretty little town, a few hours is plenty, but avoid at all cost if a cruise liner is parked nearby. Another magnificent sight from Taormina, is the volcano, Etna. Standing in the distance, covered in snow, this still active volcano is quite an impressive sight. With more time we may have ventured to take a trip for a closer look. Cefalu, pronouncing the ch as the ch in cheese, a loo. ch ef a loo. From the top of the hill in Taormina we got an overpriced taxi to the train station, £12 for 10 minutes downhill, then caught a train to Messina, what a nice train ride that was, then another train from Messina to Cefalu. Whilst the train ride was so scenic, the fight to leave the train was an uncomfortable and scary process. We were mobbed, almost literally. The station on arrival was packed with people, the train slowed, the crowd surged towards the doors and onto the train the second the doors opened. Once more I was rather proud of Mr Bunny standing his ground, and facing off this aggressive, in your face Italian, as he tried to help not just the elderly woman with 2 small suitcases in front of him, but also Mrs Bunny with a chunky backpack of her own. The crowd were appallingly rude. Italians you should be ashamed of yourselves. The town of Cefalu would be best described as the locals beachside destination. We arrived on a weekend, and the beach and town were both very crowded. Not even that warm either. On a hot summers day I imagine this little town would be very, very busy. It is a medieval town with high walls, cobbled streets and quirky old stone buildings. In the centre the duomo sits proud. Whilst not overly interested in yet another church building, this time we had a genuine excuse for not going in. Shorts. Neither of us are crass enough to commit the faux pas of entering a religious building, on a Sunday, in shorts. There were a lot of interesting people wandering the streets of Cefalu, tourists, locals, biker groups of both varieties, and even a young guy and his cockatoo. We did a double take when they walked passed us. At the end of the day, there is obvious chaos at one particular junction. It must gridlock, and a very nice traffic policeman was there to guide the traffic. But the numpty who decided said traffic cop needed a whistle, wants shooting!!! Like a kid with a new toy, he blew that damn whistle for almost two hours, and our apartment? right above. So grateful that the most wonderful supermarket stood a stones throw away, giving us a reason to escape the noise, and source some alternative food options. Rotisserie chicken, roast potatoes with butter, sweet corn, and fresh bread. I know we are in Italy, and pasta rules, but you cant beat a good chicken with a frying pan....or can you? Palermo Another lovely train ride, not quite hugging the coast as much this time but still very scenic, we travelled to our last destination on Sicily, Palermo. The railway station at Palermo is a scene of bustle and chaos, with taxis hassling you for fares, buses everywhere, bikes, scooters and crazy traffic. We knew our room wasn`t too far out of town, but it was far enough to make a walk difficult and tiring. Get an Uber. Ha! That`s easier said than done. Whilst Uber is available, the drivers are just not interested in small fares. Now, choose Uber Black and it`s take your pick. Uber Black? Luxury vehicles, large Mercedes Vito type cars, smart drivers and equally smart prices. This wasn`t going to be our first time of experiencing these overpriced fares. This 10minute journey cost us around £20. Not for the first time we were grateful for the precise location drop off in a cab. Pitching the two bunnies out of his bunny buggy in front of a high rise building with its supermarker, at the bottom of a scruffy side street, the Italian driver called to a passer by, Hotel x? Si Si!! There ! if walking alone, these bunnies would have sworn our google map was wrong on every level. Mr Bunny with his highly developed waffly nose that only a bunny can have, quickly sniffed out the tiny little sign next to a door saying Aurora. That was us. Oh heavens, yet another tiny box type lift. Mrs Bunny is entirely grateful that her lifelong fear of lifts abated some time ago, as we were on floor 6, with a staircase that Led Zeppelin sang about. Two fat bunnies and two even fatter bags, and that tiny lift was stuffed. At the top, we alighted, and were given the keys to our best room yet. I have no idea why we were so happy in that particular room, but we were. Maybe its the fact that our previous bunny hutch, whilst perfectly lovely, did have the worst beds ever, and these new ones were deliciously comfortable. The room was simply decorated, we had a kettle, cups, air con, all the usual stuff, and a big window that looked out onto the communal terrace (but we were the only guests). The weather was glorious, the sun warm, the breeze pleasant, the view pretty decent, we both just sank into blissful relaxation mode, and the town of Palermo will be there for another day...or not. Did we ever make it into Palermo? No, we did didnt. Do we feel like we missed out on anything? No. Sometimes doing nothing, is doing something. From that 6th floor rooftop balcony, with its superbly organised and impeccably clean shared (ours) kitchen, we bought food from the supermarket, and relaxed with Mr Bunnies home cooked food like two bunnies should now and again. Our last expensive taxi to town, a train to the airport, and it was goodbye Sicily. Would we come back? Not entirely sure that we would. Whilst we only had a few interactions, we have spent enough time in Italy to get a feel of what we like and what we do not. I think my own personal opinion of Sicily, and writing this from Sardinia and hindsight, I think gritty is a word I would describe Sicily. We thank you for your hospitality, and bid good you Arrivederci!

After visiting Malta, Sicily and Sardinia, Rome was the next obvious choice of destination. We have been before, but with the Trevi Fountain hidden under a mass of scaffolding and blue tarpaulin, Mr Bunny has yet to see this sight of beauty. More about that later.... It is May. Is May a good time to visit Rome? No. No it is not. Least of all in a Jubilee year (whatever that was supposed to mean as we saw no evidence) and certainly not when a certain Race for Life type marathon was taking place. Add to the fact that the world has gone travel crazy, Rome, in a nutshell was swamped. Our time in the ancient city started very well. With accommodation extraordinarily expensive in the historic centre we secured ourselves the best little apartment, within a few steps of St Peters Square. Just the wrong side of the river to be classed as the historic centre and its super prices, but so close to everything, and yes it was still. expensive. `Close** wow, now that`s a term I use loosely. Explanations to follow. later Day one we took our hosts advice and climbed the hill behind our apartment bock until we reached a number of great view points. The first was just a random bench in a field, that just so happened to have a very clear view of the dome of St Peters, but the second a beautiful fountain with fabulous views over Rome. It was also clearly a little too far out for out to be swimming with tourists. From there we ambled our way back down the hill using a different route, paused to listen to pleasant voiced busker for a while, then meandered back down to river level and to our first `must see` tourist attraction. There are a whole host of iconic `must see` tourist attractions Given that we have been to Rome before, and have see all of them, We chose to revisit the Castle San`t Angelo as it was the building we remembered the least. This unique building is surprisingly one of the lesser visited attractions. The shortest of wait times, a booking made online, and we were in. We could wander this impressive structure with time and space. We never felt crowded, or rushed. There is a lot of reading to be done within this round castle like structure, the what, why and when, but this Bunny finds the endless waffle somewhat tedious preferring to admire the building walls, paintings and quirks like holes in the floor that look all the way down to the people at the bottom. Wave hard enough and you may even get someone to wave back. If you climb to the very top of the castle, you will of course, find a cafe. No matter where you go in the world, no matter how sacred the space, or peaceful the surroundings, you always seem to find a cafe. One day in the future, a hiker will be greeted at the top of Mount Everest with ` Welcome, well done, do you prefer regular coffee or decaf...` What I did not find is the supposed hidey hole at the back of a statue as per the film Angels and Demons. Our following days in Rome all followed the same sort of pattern. We had a small map, a real hard copy map, backed it up with google (or course) and divided the city into areas. Day two Colosseum, day three Spanish steps, day four Trevi, that sort of thing. What we could not do was anything with a ticket. As I said at the start of the blog, we have been before, and on those visits, we did, to coin a cheap overused phrase, tick off all the big sights of Rome. We have been inside the Colosseum, inside St Peters, the Vatican and the Sistine Chapel. Wandered (for free then but no longer) the Roman Forum. This time we decided to wander the streets of our chosen areas, and just generally take our time looking. Not walking with noses glued to a photo, or walking blindly towards a certain iconic place, we really made the effort to be in a street, we didn`t sheep, if the sheep went right, we took the back street, if everybody followed the main road, we walked one street over. One day we walked along the river side to Isola Tiberina. We crossed the bridge to the island itself, then stood and marvelled at this incredible bridge that everyone else was just blindly walking across. Ponte Fabricio dates back to 62BC. A working, fully intact bridge, built over 2000 years ago. It was the details such as this that we enjoyed the most this time. A church, non descript from the outside, but with detail inside that makes you just want to sit and gaze. We found a lot of churches, non of whose names I can remember unfortunately. We found one, now lets find another. We have over 900 to choose from, so why should so called `influencers` determine what is the best? Must see Church painting in Rome!! that`s what they say, meh, yes, the church they suggest was lovely, stunning in fact, but round the corner sits a church waiting in peaceful serenity hiding its majesty with a wry smile. A ceiling space so incredible , you just need time to sit, stare and think how? In churches like these we would often sit alone, maybe one or two others in the church, but never with the same amount of people as in the church that shouldn`t be missed The same day we walked the river, we crossed into Trastevere, another favourite tourist area of Rome, did I like it? Not sure. Very old, cobbled streets, traditional restaurants, and graffiti. Lots and lots of graffiti. Graffiti is to be found all over Italy, like a pandemic they seem powerless to control it. The only buildings that seem to escape this disgusting blight of colour, (not even pictures, or patterns, just scrawled writings of rubbish) are the Roman structures. I beg to ask, if they can respect those, why can they not respect the rest of their homeland? Once again, I found myself the tourist wanting to see, but not wanting to be there. Rome is a filthy city, but how much of the rubbish we see is tourist created? We bunnies are just so careful to leaving nothing but footprints, and take only memories. I wish others would be as respectful. We covered over 20,000 steps that day, and everything we saw was `close`** to where we were staying. That is what I mean by close, with a Ha!! No matter how condensed an area we chose to wander, each day we averaged around 16,000 steps. Can you do Rome in a day? No!, no you cannot. With impressive fitness, an ability to just keep walking, pre booked early entries for every major sight, and you may get to see the best sights in three days. We were there six days, and still left Rome with my all ears, always listening Facebook account reminding me of all the incredible places we missed. St Peters. As we stood in the centre of St Peters, totally surrounded by people, I still recall the photo of me, stood in front of the obelisk, with no one behind me. It is hard to comprehend the sheer numbers of people in line now. Stretching from the entry on the top right hand side of the columns, the queue of people stretches almost 3/4 of the way around the square. As for the number of people in line for the Vatican museums? Just crazy numbers. Massive numbers of sheep being herded in the same direction. I can only imagine how crowded and stuffy the Sistine Chapel would be. When did the world become so busy? Trevi fountain. I have read so much about the Trevi being over run and crowded, I thought of when and how we could visit this beautiful fountain, how could Mr Bunny see this fountain as I had many years ago, when once again, it was just me, a friend, and a few pigeons. The second time I went it was busier, but still I could walk around, no jostling, large amounts of free space, even room for sellers of tat to wander around, badgering people to buy their naff souvenirs, but now? You can hear the people by the fountain before you are anywhere near it. Every recent picture you see online at the moment, about how crowded the Trevi is, is entirely true. Not an ounce of space anywhere. Just a huge, en masse group of people all wanting that photo in front of the Trevi. I gave up with the idea of going at 4am, or midnight, enough reading suggests there is no such thing as `quiet time`. We braced ourselves, and entered the square. We queued, we jostled, we hustled and we squeezed. We got our photo. Thank you phones for having a delete unwanted objects button. We left. Our time in Rome was eye opening, this amazing city, as old as its seven hills, is just too busy. We loved every minute of our time there, even managing to find our own little bit of space now and again to just enjoy it. I went to the Wedding Cake Building, interestingly enough I was calling it that 20 years ago before google became the number one go to for information, yet now, you only need to type Wedding into Google, (at least when in Rome), and the beautiful white Victor Emmanuelle II building is your number one hit. Twenty years ago, I climbed to the top and found a newly opened little room selling hot tea and cups of coffee. Mr Bunny and I climbed to the top of the same building, and this little room is now a whole floor open air/partially covered restaurant with a fully fitted kitchen. A glass elevator takes you to the very top, and the views to Forum now extend to both sides of the road as Rome continues its excavations. This amazing ever evolving city is well worth a visit, just pick your time of year carefully. Avoid May. We leave Rome and and many of its secrets as yet unfound, and continue our journey. Will we return? I would think so, not for a while, but I dare say one day we will be back. Thank you for your kind hospitality Rome Ciao!

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.