Domestic and European (whatever that is) Entries

  1. Betwixt Domestic Ahoy


Well Dear Reader, as there’s space on my vinyl front here, these WILL be the continuing logs of this Captain’s Enterprise. My timeless mission is to seek out new life and uncivilisations, boldly splitting infinitives through Haywards Heath to Worthing, without changing at Hove, where No Men have Gone Before. Or Women. Not without a barcode ticket at least.

Probably irrelevant as Southern Rail with an F hasn’t worked for a few years.

Continuing to recall ruminations from road rail and Ryanair (well who knows, but try saying that, Jonathan Ross), wherever I go I’ll be regurgitating, and hopefully you, deluded dearest, will be by my side, if not necessarily, on it.

During my worldly wandering, on Ocean Liner, budget conscious express bus, and past their bedtime Rural Railway (try saying that too, Jonathan Ross), the views of the spectacular scenery often collided so hilariously with the views of my various new travelling companions, occasionally incredulously, that one felt obliged to open ones iPhone and e-pen a tale or two largely so true that nothing now will stop Mrs Flow. The dam is busted, the fingertip poised and tablet touched (iPadding it out from time to time) but only to expose the wit and wisdom of the Carol “key larm par” Zimmermanses and yer Keiths and Joyces “that’s wallpaper for you!” of this World (well, Cape Town and Chelmsford disrespectfully, as it happens).

There’ll be continued wacky anecdotes of choices of milk (almond or coconut, sir?) and sweeteners in cafes worldwide, toasted tea cake choice envy in the North of England fish and chip emporia, and ice cream frenzy in Soho, London (“triple scoop, mate? Only a fiver….”).

For one must always share. I mean, the Tring Train Announcer DID say "For the Harry Potter Experience, proceed to Platform Four and collect your broomstick”, the Brighton Express guard DID announce in a dubious French accent “I shall say zis only once…” (non BBC officianados, Go Ogle weird TV hit “Allo Allo”), whilst the ladies at Clapham Common Bandstand Cafe DID promise me they’d bring over “your oo-zoo-ull”, namely “two toast juan jam and Beeg Americanos, with The Extra Milk and Just A Single Short for your friend with the cutey dog”.

Oh how the mighty, how the mighty.

Thus begins The Future for This Once Weary Traveller. Watch this space, or knit a scarf. Or two. An assortment of reds maybe. West Country Tales and a Tapa or two soon, for those still with a penchant, but no cream to rub on it.

Rapid recent unpublished bloggage with appear here as dumpage verbiage, to get y'all used to giving me KUDOS points, and any comments please send to the attached email address (betwixt AT, except obviously use th proper email @ sign, silly).

Meanwhile, here’s a picture of a gent’s loo in Catalunya I had to use recently.


More soon, dearest.


Now read this


It’s terrific really. Did 6 months plus travelling last year outside of the UK and not once did I have anything like the hilarious (NOT) experience encountered yesterday in Wintry Sussex. All I wanted to do was get an hour southwards to... Continue →