LOOKING OUT 2018

Occasional Comments on the Passing Scene in 2018

Barry Williamson

See also: Looking Out 2017,  Looking Out 2016,  Looking Out 2013,  Looking Out 2012,  Looking Out 2011

December 2018  (Greece, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, Luxembourg, Belgium, England)

Mortal or Immortal? Thankfully, the Orthodox religion of Greece prefers to regard Late Bronze Age Jewish Tribal Myths as referring to an entirely immortal being, and not the semi-mortal of Western religions. Greek gods regularly got mortal women into trouble – semi-immortal Hercules for example was the result of one such romance. Therefore Mary doesn't appear very often in Orthodox stories and the Xmas birth to a mortal woman (in a stable of all places) somehow doesn't fit with godliness. Greeks prefer Easter, which is a great celebration of Jesus going back to where he belongs – up with the gods on Mount Olympus.

Something Fishy. We arrived in England on 11 December and left again on 19 December. Initially driving to Dick Lane Motors in Bradford for expert repairs, we spent much of the time on the west coast in and around Leyland, with Paul Hewitt (who was his usual magnificent self), Morrisons, Todd's Motorhomes (they have a very tasty Roller Team model in their showroom) and the simple campsite managed by Mark at the ponds stocked with fish to be fished out and put back in again at a cost of £5 per day (or £12 to camp).

Murder in the Market: We are here in good time for Strasbourg's Christmas Market, quickly restored to life after the murder and mayhem of 10 days ago. The murder scene is now marked with hundreds of mute tributes (flowers and candles) and words that speak of courage and togetherness, echoing Charlie Hebdo 'Nous sommes tous Strasbourg'.

Celebrations: Margaret has been able to make her usual Christmas cake (with marzipan, topped off with Barry piping the icing), Christmas pudding and mince pies. A dozen empty jam jars lie in wait in the motorhome's garage; the oranges and lemons to make next year's supply of marmalade already hanging from trees in a Spartan grove. 

Aid for the Orphans 1990: I assume that you are travelling by train (in India) which puts me in mind of a railway journey Margaret and I made over Christmas and New Year in 1990. On that Christmas day the execution of the Ceausescu's literally opened the gates to the restricted Romania we had travelled through on a bicycle journey to Istanbul the previous summer. During 1990 we took a total of about 8 tons of aid (freely donated) in 3 journeys by truck (freely loaned) to orphanages in Romania, focussing on Moldavia in the far northeast. Our contacts were made through what had been an underground network of very brave Baptists. At that time we felt that Europe was really opening up and becoming free.

The Turning of the Year: The Winter Solstice passed by yesterday almost completely unnoticed and unremarked by many, although it is a most important day for us. The turning of the tide on shortening days and lengthening nights, of gloom and falling temperatures. Driving south and east at the same time as the sun pauses, turns and begins its long journey back into our hemisphere, lightens the heart as well as the day. How the quality of the light changes once we have tunnelled under the Alps between Switzerland and Italy.

Just Imagine: We like your use of John Lennon's words. There are more words at the beginning: “Imagine there's no heaven. It's easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky. Imagine all the people. Living for today.”  Eve and I played this song to ourselves on our C90 cassette tape player every morning before we went to work in the Polytechnic in Bhopal, the capital of Madhyar Pradesh (the former Central Provinces) in the 1970's. Somehow, those were days of hope before the complexities and disillusions that permeate life today. Perhaps pigeons really are coming home to roost (oh dear, not another metaphor!)

Democracy UK Style: A recent excellent article in the Guardian, written from the Republic of Ireland, pointed out that the UK governing system only worked and was stable when there were just two sides (labour vs capital), taking it in turns to bray at each other in public-school-trained debate on opposite and facing sides of wooden benches in a pseudo-medieval chamber. We get just two sides by having an election system that precluded any smaller parties, eg the Greens and UKIP between them got 5 million votes (16.6% of the total) in 2015 but only gained one seat each (together 0.3% of the total). Now that Brexit (and much else) doesn't fit into simple binary choices, we have chaos and uncertainty.

Democracy European Style: Most European countries have not only abolished their Kings, Emperors and hangers-on in the form of Lords, Earls and Dukes, but they have also introduced proportional representation, coalition government and circular seating patterns with a chair, desk and computer screen for every representative. Not least, voting takes no longer than the press of a button, not the 20 minutes that UK MPs take to trudge through the Aye or the No Lobby, being counted as they pass like sheep in a restless night. How Quaint.

The Turning Point (in an email to Paul Hewitt): We never thought that we would be writing this email, but we have become interested in acquiring electric-motor assisted bicycles! Age begins to tell and these Greek hills are starting to look quite intimidating. Two questions, if we may

1. Is it possible to adapt our present Paul Hewitt Touring bikes, for example by fitting a rear wheel with a built-in motor plus a frame-fitting battery and handlebar-mounted controls?

2. Or, if not, what do you recommend as new bicycles suitable for our sort of touring – ie comfortable bikes with mudguards, racks for rear panniers, handlebar bag, etc with a range of 50 miles or more in hilly country. The motor driving the cranks would probably be best to assist the pedalling rather than just turning the back wheel, and derailleur gears could still be used.

Einstein on the Road: Many thanks for your email and your critique of my writing. It's a rare pleasure for me to have such detailed and knowledgeable comments, and I greatly appreciate it. The Watershed piece was set in a ride in the Landes Department of France bordering the Bay of Biscay, covered in vast conifer forests and leading south to the Pyrenees (the real watershed). This sense of movement is part of the fascination of cycling: on the one hand there is the awareness of moving forward; on the other hand everything else is either moving towards you with apparently increasing speed, pausing briefly (instantaneously) before moving away behind you, all the time slowly rearranging itself to create an ever-changing perspective. An Einstein moment when space and time become one (we are taught to mix them up and call it 'speed', worshiping its acceleration).

November 2018 (France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Greece)

A Life Story: The first draft of my account of my life, starting with the tracing of (parents) Joe and Doris, is nearing completion. Overall theme: 'Northern Working Class Lad Makes Good.' So far it runs to about 15,500 words, but it is only the first draft. I am amazed by the sheer diversity of what I have done and how life can so neatly divide into phases, many of them overlapping, sometimes one inside another, some slowly arising and fading, some popping up out of nowhere and disappearing in a moment. It's hard and not necessary to keep to a strict chronology, the phases are how we recall life since that is how it is lived. 

Phases: You write of phases in your life. I guess the real challenge, which we have yet to address, is how all or most or some of the phases fit together to make a person and a life. The parallel with travel is almost perfect. For phase read journey. Numerous interacting phases or journeys are needed for a country or geographical area (large or small) to become known. At the same time, the person passing through the phases or making the journeys is enriched and not only adds to their own knowledge and experience, but also adds to who they are.

Germany's High Point: We have spent some time in a corner of Germany we have only previously passed through. Bavaria is the most prosperous area of Germany with a splendid mix of major industry, charming Alpine houses, green meadows, medieval towns and villages, all on the northern edge of the Alps with the nearby Zugspitze Germany's highest peak at just short of 3,000 m or nearly 10,000 ft; we climbed to its summit restaurant years ago, in a cable car.

Cold Comfort: Bavaria's Sulzberg and Garmisch-Partenkirchen were cold being 2,500 ft high in the foothills of the Alps with night frosts and a light snow fall. On our last night in Germany the water in the motorhome's boiler froze meaning a wait for the morning's first cup of tea.

The Watershed: Now we have left Germany and crossed Austria via Innsbruck to meet Italy at the top of the Brenner Pass. Where Hitler and Mussolini used to meet for a chat on the border, there is now a parking area for trucks to cool down after their strenuous climb. A few miles south of the pass, we are in a German-speaking part of Italy, the South Tirol, where it is much warmer and the nearby village Chiusa mixes the best of German and Italian pâtisseries in its bakery.

The Local TV has a mix of channels in Italian and German with some English and we meet motorhomers and other travellers from across the mainland, but none so far from the UK. This in itself explains why true Europeans are at ease with each other in each other's countries. How isolated and alone England feels and is: the British deluded by their own ignorance but with a so-called global perspective in which they don't even know or meet their neighbours.

On the High Seas: This morning we booked the Minoan Lines overnight ferry from Ancona (on Italy's Adriatic coast south of Venice) to Igoumenitsa in the far northwest of Greece, very near the border with Albania. We sail from Ancona next Monday, after travelling there via Verona, Modena and Rimini.

Wellness: The motorhome is running well, we are walking and riding well and the bicycles are doing what they do well. What more can we ask?

Euthanasia will eventually become acceptable; what ethic (probably derived, like too much else, from the superstitions and drug- or schizophrenia-induced voices and visions of Late Bronze Age tribal leaders) forces people to leave this life in the horrible ways you graphically describe. We don't allow such suffering in dogs or cats. The medical profession is hoisted by its own petard, with much of its funding devoted to keeping people alive when all hope is gone. They probably fear the job and prestige losses if euthanasia became routine. What midwife voted for abortion?

Return to Greece: We are now in Greece, having taken the overnight Minoan Lines ferry from the Italian port of Ancona, south down the Adriatic to Igoumenitsa. Ig, as we call it, is mainly a ferry port with routes across the Adriatic to the Italian ports of Brindisi, Bari, Ancona, Venice and Trieste. There are also regular ferries in and out, to and from, the nearby island of Corfu (or Kerkyra, as the Greeks insist on calling it). Corfu used to be a British Possession but we gave it to Greece in the early days of their struggle to get free of 400 years of Turkish occupation. It took the Greeks 100 more years to establish their present borders (1821-1921) and still they are arguing with Turkey about it.

Taking Over from the Ottomans: The struggle for Greek Independence was a bit one-sided, given that Britain, France and Russia were on the Greek side, although their eye was on the extensive Ottoman Empire which was finally shared out between Britain and France in the aftermath of the First World War. Among much else, Britain got Iraq and France got Syria. Greece did better with the Aegean along with its 3,000 islands, only 200 or so of them occupied. The Ottomans got what is now Turkey and one Aegean island!

Nothing Like It: We are aiming for Finikounda in the southern Greek Peloponnese, a place we know well. Meanwhile we are just enjoying being in Greece. There are many words to describe this country and the experience of being here, most of them superlatives. My word is 'incomparable', so I don't.

Feline Friends: Margaret has already formed a close working (or feeding) relationship with about 9 cats (3 black ones with green eyes, 1 grey one with orange eyes, 1 ginger one, 2 tabby and white ones, 2 black and white kittens). They sit patiently at the door waiting for us to get up; it's nice to feel wanted! Cats are a feature of Greek campsites, hotels, tavernas and cafés; those not so favoured are the 'trash cats' who live in and around large rubbish containers in the street, with lids that stopped closing some time back in Ancient Greek History.

Brexit from Afar: At this distance (about 1,200 miles from Hull to here, not counting two overnight ferries), Brexit is even more of a nightmare. What has happened to the English? 'Europe' is a wonderful place to be, not something the Tories have constructed as a threat onto which we should project our hatred and sense of oppression. Better to understand that it's not Europe we're leaving (we just can't); it's the Tories we should be leaving – in the dustbin of an oppressive history.

The Boy in the Bush: This is a DH Lawrence novel I read many years ago as a library book, now available for less than a pound as a Kindle. Two things recommend it: it is set in the 1880's and its use of English is of that era and splendid and gives a great insight into the early years of the colony, how it was established and how people lived. It also draws a strong distinction between the social and the physical worlds. The central figure, Jack Grant, seeks the latter in the bush and finds the former an intrusion.

Germany Calling: We are now in deepest southern Germany, in fact it's Bavaria and very near the borders with German-speaking Switzerland and even more German-speaking Austria. Margaret speaks correct German (known as Hochdeutsch) very well indeed, which is more than can be said (or heard) for (or from) the locals.
 
Where to Celebrate? We did notice that they did not celebrate the Centenary of the WW1 Armistice here in Germany on 11 November. In fact, the German President was in London and the Chancellor Mrs Merkel was in Paris for the ceremonies. Perhaps they were saying 'sorry', but perhaps not. Being on the receiving end, the two German leaders could also have mentioned something the British don't seem to have noticed: it was the Americans who made the difference in WW1 and it was they who stayed on to stop the Russians (having won) advancing any further in WW2.

Empathy, Altruism & Self-Awareness: Empathy and its more active cousin altruism are each and together true measures of what it is to be a conscious human being. A self-awareness which leads to awareness of other people's experiences, feelings and world-view. But how challenging it is when these characteristics we aspire to are really put to the test!

Aid for Deprived Children: One thing I did before leaving India after a year living and working in Madras/Chennai was to set up a charity to provide the most basic forms of medication for children in Madras slum areas: vitamin A supplements to reduce blindness and antidiarrheal treatments to reduce death by dehydration.

Closing Down Time: Perhaps we all need inspirational figures in our lives; perhaps they add to or substitute for religious belief. Do you retain your faith? Does it help? With ageing, horizons tend to shrink, ambitions fade, attention becomes focussed on matters of detail and day-to-day activities. We feel the onset of this; comfort begins to have the edge over risk. But this is all in the head; it's a different matter when the body itself begins its inevitable decline and decay, creating its own bounds and restrictions. The balance given by having a sense of proportion begins to tilt. After a lifetime of the brain commanding the body, the body begins to command the brain – slow down, cut back, keep warm!

Capability: As travellers we deal with our daily choice among permutations and combinations (as now finding new routes, people, places and experiences en route probably to Greece). The main thing is to be capable, to have capability. Knowing that whatever turns up, we have the knowledge, skills, resources, attitudes, experience, etc to work with it to our advantage. Imagine in a 6-week summer holiday, flying overnight over the Arctic to land in Vancouver with nothing planned or booked except a return ticket from Toronto 3,200 miles away and two bicycles on which to make the journey. That's who we still are! We got to the airport in Toronto with a day in hand to visit Niagara before flying back the day before the start of the autumn term.   

Refurbishing the Back Rooms: Things are now much improved in Romania with many thanks to the European Union, steadily refurbishing the neglected rooms in what Gorbachev called 'Our European Home'. The UK will soon be homeless, unless protests reach a pitch sufficient to stop the madness of that ugly word 'Brexit'.

An Excellent Example from Germany: Here in Donaueschingen we are staying about a mile from the centre, by the sports ground where there is a parking area for motorhomes to spend the night (free of charge) with coin-operated electrical hook-ups, a very common arrangement in Germany and France. In the UK, by contrast, most car parks have height barriers and no provision at all. This morning we cycled into town through the leafy park and sat in the sunshine by a market stall, eating substantial German sausages and sipping mulled wine. It's a hard life!

About Twelve Square Metres: We live in a very small space in the motorhome (6 m long by 2 m wide) with our two laptops on the table practically on top of the gas stove, small fridge, three-burner gas hob, toaster and electric kettle. No problems so far.

A Place Where People Live: After an afternoon's bike ride into and around Strasbourg, we realise yet again that people in sad, old, run-down, austerity-ridden Britain have no idea how prosperous and well-kept European cities can be. Wonderful also to see how many people were walking and riding bikes in this widespread city. Pedestrians and bicycles have priority over cars throughout France and what a difference that makes. How few cars there are in the centre – and no trucks. It's called 'civilised'! And people actually live in the city centres!

Chicken Curry à la Française: We had the French version of Chicken Curry for lunch. This involved sitting at a table out in the street eating small dry pieces of chicken along with a choice of either French fries (with ketchup) or crudités (a mound of every kind of raw vegetable made less dry by mixing in a little white sauce). We learnt that the French for 'curry' is 'curry', and the French for 'ketchup' is 'ketchup'. If they keep this up, it will make life a lot easier.

Changing Standards: A very clever move on the part of the French has been to change the standard on which they broadcast their TV channels. This means that a UK TV (wall-mounted 19" flat screen), like ours, gets a very good picture but absolutely no sound. So goodness knows what they are saying about us or how they are saying it! Later in Germany they went even further: the improvements there meant that we tuned into several channels but had neither sound nor vision. In Italy we were overwhelmed with channels, sound and vision, none of which did we want to watch. Roll on the ferry: we always tune in when we are in Greece.

God and the Queen. What a different country France is. Armistice Day (11/11) is a national holiday (as is 8 May, VE Day) and gods, the church and the army are kept well away from the ceremonies; the Republic is represented by a message from the President, read aloud by the Mayor to the assembled citizens. 'La Marseillaise' is sung with gusto. We once attended Armistice ceremonies in Ypres by the Menin Gate, and another time in Soissons which was on the front line in World War One and completely destroyed. At its end, the latter ceremony moved to a small British memorial nearby where a French children's choir sang our national anthem in English: God save the Queen! We cringed.

Along the Frontline. After our long journey along the battle lines of the First World War, we have reached the Rhine, the German border, the end of the Maginot Line and Strasbourg, itself a symbol of European Unity. Emmanuel Macron came to join us on Sunday evening, but we missed him. He was at the beginning of his own Armistice Centenary tour of the World War One front line, visiting a total of 17 towns ending with meeting Frau Merkel on 11/11 in the same railway dining car in the forest of Compiègne, where the Armistice was signed in November 1918 and where Hitler forced the surrender of the French in June 1940. We were there in April 2015.

Where the Danube Begins. Next for us will be the Black Forest, where we may pick up the beginning of the Danube in Donaueschingen and follow it for a while. The river has a superb cycle path its full length of 1,780 miles to the Black Sea, a bit far for us these days. We have cycled much of it in sections, at least as far as Budapest.

Marx & the Monarchy. I read Marx many long years ago (Karl, not Groucho, Chico, Harpo or Zeppo), almost once joined the Revolutionary Communist Party in Sheffield and used 'Das Kapital' as my text when I got a distinction in my MBA. So the personality, or complete lack of it, of the many assorted members of our so-called and self-styled 'royal' family are of no interest to me. That extended family should long ago have been assigned to the dustbin of history, as were their cousins throughout the continent of Europe (along with their empires). We already have far too many unemployed people on state-provided benefits.

The Survival of the Feckless. The 'royals' now survive by association – with tourism, with celebrity status, with a distorted view of history, with heading the church, with living in palaces, with wounded soldiers, with funerals of important people, with travelling in horse and carts and waving at the sort of people who voted to leave the EU. They also have the wisdom to keep remote and quiet, only occasionally reading out words written for them on set occasions.

Non-Stop Flight to Perth. By the way, we hope that your aeroplane is non-stop, otherwise you would be in trouble. On the other hand, throughout Eastern Europe we have noted that Non-Stop is often used outside a shop or a café or a petrol station to note that it keeps going 24/7. So we hope that is also not true for your flight.

A Sense of Direction. We are getting there, although it is a long and challenging road and we are still not quite where 'there' is. We are still all aims and few objectives!

October 2018 (England, Belgium, France)

Hunt the Poet. We looked for and found the grave of Lt E Alan Mackintosh MC, the Scottish war poet who was killed in the battle of Cambrai on 21 November 1917. Every war grave has a story, every man loved and missed. A complete surprise was finding a memorial to Alan, dedicated in November 2017, in the village of Cantaing where he met his death.

Where the Tanks First Broke Through. We are in the midst of the World War One battle fields in front of Cambrai along the highly defended German Hindenburg Line. This is the place where, starting on 20 November 1917, tanks were first used in battle, but to no immediate effect. Everywhere we turn there are Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemeteries: walled enclosures of well-tended grass where ranks of identical white headstones stand like immaculate soldiers on parade, sternly overlooked by a tall cross. Country lanes lead between bleak fields, the potatoes and sugar beet now harvested.

Over or Under the Sea. The Tunnel was not to be, as we had to return north to Huddersfield to organise some work at the house, which is to have a new bathroom. Not wanting to drive back to the Channel, we took the ferry from Hull to Zeebrugge, had a quick look at Brugge or Bruges (too many tourists) and went on into northern France to visit some of the battlefields and cemeteries of the First World War, appropriate at this time with the Centenary of the Armistice.

Buying and Selling. We are learning a lot about the revolution in retail sales, for the good and the ill of the retail industry. It is quite amazing that almost everything can be ordered after detailed online searches and comparisons, paid for with a click of the mouse and then instantly delivered. I experience that only with my Kindle, when I can order a book while still in bed and it arrives on my screen before I have even turned over.

Buy Evans? But what is happening to shops? I read in the Guardian early this morning (while still in bed) that the Evans cycle business had been taken over by that rat from Sports Direct, Mike Ashley, a Green-like figure. A really good retailer and bike builder, Evans has been in business for a hundred years and employs 1,300 people, 880 of them in 62 shops. It was taken over by a private equity firm 3 years ago after a management buy-out but couldn't match online sales from companies such as Wiggle.

Ashley is Pleased. Just as Philip Green did, Ashley waited until the company went into administration so that he wouldn't have to take over its debts including the pension liabilities. Ashley is quoted as saying 'We are pleased to have rescued the Evans Cycle brand . . . . however, to save the business we only believe we will be able to keep 50% of the stores open in the future'. That's over 400 people out of a job. Some rescue!

Playing with Money. The UK is now nothing but a playground for the finance industry, short-term gamblers and speculators. With little regard for the public good, services, production, health, the environment, job security, education, the future, etc. For how much longer will the public put up with this? What a relief to land back on the mainland where capitalism has been kept much more under control ever since the cataclysm of WW2. And not least due to the European Union.

Pilgrimage (the forerunner of tourism) had well-worn paths to a fixed number of holy shrines; for tourism any object will do. As a student I camped in a deserted Glen Brittle and climbed the rough gabbro rock of the Cuillin Mountains on Skye. Now hordes take selfies by the 'fairy pools' part way down the Glen, recently placed at the top of the Daily Mail's ten most romantic spots in the British Isles and in Lonely Planet's Top Ten must-visit-and-take-a-selfie stops. The passing places on the single track roads are blocked with parked cars, while convoys of Italian motorhomes have been known to find nowhere to turn round until the police are in called to help!

What To Do. The main thing is what you do with your assets and income, rather than just sitting on them and in them as most people do. Have some real goals or targets or aims or objectives for the rest of your life. Perhaps something entirely new but challenging. Use the resources to enrich your life! Something to look forward to, to wake up for. Find a part of yourself that hasn't found expression yet.

A British Summer. We arrived in the UK on the Hook of Holland to Harwich ferry in mid-May, after driving overland from Greece via Albania and countries of the former Yugoslavia. We anticipated the usual quick visit for MOT, motorhome service and shopping but in the event we stayed awhile to enjoy the exceptional summer weather and avoid the heat and fires of mainland Europe. We worked our way up through Yorkshire, rediscovering favourite places to cycle on the Yorkshire Wolds and North Yorkshire Moors, until we reached Northumberland and the Borders for more cycling. We almost got used to stealing out on the UK's homicidal roads! Then we drove on via Glencoe to Mallaig and over the sea to Skye to visit our Australian friends, now living there on their 12-acre croft across the water from Dunvegan Castle. They are planting hundreds of trees on their land – rowan, birch and oak – and we've given them a donation to have a 'Williamson Memorial' grove.

On Hearing from a Long-Lost Friend. Thanks for breaking the ice; despite what should be the immutable laws of physics, underneath the ice the water is quite warm and it has great depth.

Vowels on the Move. We have been astonished at what the Kiwis have done to what was once our mutual language. On our first visit, in our first shop, we were asked if we had a 'pin'. We didn't but wondered why we should have: it took some time to translate that into 'pen'. What has happened is a vowel shift: 'i' for 'e' and 'u' for 'i'. Probably the influence of Maori on Scottish! We never did discover how they teach spelling to infants – eg F I S H spells fush.

In the Dark on the Nullarbor. When we first read about lights along Australian roads we immediately thought of our first crossing of the Nullarbor, 750-miles by bicycle in June 2000. On the crossing we used our tent on occasions when we didn't reach a roadhouse for the night, but hadn't sufficiently prepared for the long dark evenings and were cooking by the bicycle headlamp! The lights of road trains could be seen for many miles before they appeared. Wonderful stars.

Old & New Middle Classes. The traditional or, one could say, the old middle class has nothing to do with capitalism, except that it always was and remains a threat to the existence of that class, as does Marxism. That class has no friends on either side of these two extremes. Everything in England, and I do mean everything, is defined by class. To understand this you have to live for some time in countries and societies (and there are many of them) where this is not so, and certainly not to such a pervasive and all-consuming extent.

Class Rules. In England class determines life expectancy, schooling, university, housing, income, health, size of garden, food shopping, make and size of car, choice of restaurants, diet, hotels, clothing, music, TV programmes, IQ, type of alcohol, radio stations, newspapers, politics, hobbies, who marries who, sports, and position in the endless hierarchies within organisations (think civil service, the NHS, the armed forces, etc). And which side of the Brexit divide. This is the only country where I have to check constantly where I 'belong' in this pyramidal social structure and where I don't.

The Old Middle Class has taken shelter in the closed-shop professions: medicine, law, the church, the military, politics, banking, the upper echelons of the civil service and providing services to the superior class in the aristocracy. This process turns equality and service on its head by creating elites. In the UK, GP's hide behind receptionists, nurses of various kinds, appointments, strict working hours, high salaries and the privilege of being addressed as 'Doctor' with no definite or indefinite article. 'Doctor will see you now'. From Australia to Sweden, it's Bruce or Sven and 'how can I help you?'

The Common People, lacking any kind of privilege, are bought off by having their very own 'celebrities' by the hundred! In these they invest their dreams, their aspirations and their fantasies.

Nothing Remains the Same. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. For us there have been enormous changes and nothing remains the same. We have tested ourselves and gone to the brink physically, intellectually and emotionally, all the source of deep learning. We have seen and interacted with humanity in all its guises and emerged older but also wiser.

Letting People Know. Good journeys deserve wide exposure, not so much for the benefit of the traveller as that of the people who will read and become inspired by it. Here in the UK, we are surrounded by Zombies in the most amazingly expensive motorhomes, caravans and SUV's who know no better than to bring them from home for a few days on a campsite and then home again. On the campsite they replicate their home life with TV, BBQ's, cleaning, polishing and sitting outside with tablets (one to read, several to swallow) and a glass of something.

Travel in the Third World. As for us, we have had something of a block about travelling in less developed countries in a motorhome, although we have toured that way in Morocco and Eastern Turkey. We have preferred cycling (Israel, Palestinian Territories, Tunisia, Morocco, Fiji and all the Eastern European countries when they were behind the Iron Curtain) or using locally-hired vehicles and local accommodation and food in countries such as India, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Malaysia, South Africa, etc. I (that's Barry) did my National Service with the RAF in Hong Kong and my work (curriculum and organisational development in the Polytechnic sector) took me to Iraq, Malawi and India where I spent a total of 2 years spread over 7 visits including a year in Madras/Chennai.

Polemics: We have written two polemics on the subject of motorhome travel in what was once called the 'third world'. One in 2010 and one in 2012.

Capitalism & Feudalism. Some countries (Russia, China, etc) have followed centuries-long feudalism with the imposition of state capitalism of the Soviet Union era. Sometimes, the two economic systems run in parallel and it is quite fascinating to experience 'progress' as the old (the friendly ways of ordinary people) persists alongside the new (burgeoning capitalism), as we experienced it in Eastern Europe post Gorbachev in the 1990's.

Travel with the Seasons. Our favourite part of Europe is Greece in the winter (the southern Peloponnese), which we will be aiming for once again. In summer we regularly go up to Scandinavia, especially the far north of Sweden and Finland above the Arctic Circle.

Loaded Bicycles. For transporting the many necessities needed on long-distance bicycle journeys, we have custom-built touring cycles (from Paul Hewitt in Leyland), with front and rear pannier racks. That means we can carry 5 bags each: 2 large rear panniers, 2 smaller front panniers, plus a handlebar bag for valuables, camera, etc. On the long rides we always carried a small tent and a camping gaz stove, though we used a mixture of camping and cheap accommodation. These days we do shorter tours and don't take camping equipment, being older (if not wiser!)

The Cost of Camping. We often use ACSI sites in low season, when the price with an ACSI card is between 11 Euros and 19 Euros a night. We prefer to be on a campsite if we settle for long, for security and the use of showers, laundry, hook-up and (often) WiFi. If staying long-term in winter, the coastal sites in Spain, Portugal, Sicily and Greece have good discounts for, say, a month or more, getting as low as 10 Euros a night. Camping is of course most expensive in July/August, costing 20 Euros or more.

Free Overnight Parking. We also use French Aires and German Stellplatz places, which sometimes have coin-operated hook-ups. They used to be free but now tend to have a small charge, typically between 5 and 10 Euros a night. Books listing these 'Camperstops' are available from Amazon or Vicarious Books. They are especially useful in winter, when many campsites are closed except round the coasts or at ski resorts. And, of course, we sometimes park for a free night while travelling, for example at a motorway services (no charge anywhere except in the UK) or by a harbour or marina or museum car park. Sometimes a restaurant/café/hotel will let you park overnight if you eat there. In Eastern Europe you can often stay on a TIR truck park for a very small charge.

Brexit as a Coup. We completely sympathise with the situation you find yourselves in; we are concerned for the future of our travels, you are concerned for your whole future. The mess has been deliberately created to obfuscate what is really happening. It's a pro-capitalist coup with nationalistic overtones by the right wing of the Tory Party. Not on the same scale but along the same lines as other coups ranging from the fascists in Germany in the early 1930's to Trump right now. The propaganda and misinformation techniques are very similar.

The Interests of Capital. De-regulation, free trade, high productivity, low wages, reduced taxation, less state interference, less state spending, unemployment, reduced human and employment rights are all in the interests of capital. 'Global Britain' is openly declared, even though it is directly against the interests of the deluded people who voted for it. We fear for civil unrest when the penny (and the pound) finally drops.

Opposition? The behaviour of the Labour Party is little short of despicable. If they had been clearly in favour of remaining in the EU and made the case for that consistently before, during and after the referendum, they would have succeeded. It's an open goal. Every time a detail comes out of what the Tories hope to achieve in their 'negotiations', the answer is simple: we already have it.

Single Words. How absurd to reduce the incredible complexity of what has to be agreed to single words such as 'Brexit' and 'Deal'. And how absurd to reduce our whole future to a single 'deal' to be accepted or rejected, copying the language and simplicity of Trump. With over a million older people now dead and over a million younger people now eligible to vote, another referendum or streets protests are the only way forward.

Still Moving. We are still on the road after what is now 23½ years without a day off and your example heartens us to continue. Now in England but pointing at le Tunnel sous la Manche, we'll get out well before Brexit, even if we can't get back in again. Perhaps we won't want to get back in again.

Now You Pay. Thanks also for the news about the campingcar-infos website. Over those many years we have gone from 'park up for the night where you want', to 'free Aire, Stellplatz and Aree de Sosta', to 'campsites overcharging', to 'now pay for the Aire, Stellplatz and Aree de Sosta', to 'Pay for the Guide to where you spend the night'. That is, capitalism creeps in wherever there is a sign of free activity.

September 2018 (England)

Memories of Sakar Hills. We get the immediate firing of neurons in all directions provoking a myriad memories, sights, sounds and feelings – all associated with Sakar Hills, your family, Land Rovers, the Ex Pat Gang, Biser and so many other places all around. Good also that the campsite is thriving and no longer on the market. The For Sale notice has therefore been taken down from both our websites: MagBazTravels and MagBazPictures.

Uncle Cuthbert. I was fascinated by Great Uncle Cuthbert and read more about him in Wikipedia and elsewhere. What a man. I love the idea that the Naja christyi, commonly known as the Congo water cobra or Christy's water cobra, is named after him, as are Chamaelycus christyi (Christy's banded snake) and Polemon christyi (Christy's snake-eater). Perhaps distracted by their hobbies and interests, it was people like him who helped create the Empire without really noticing it was happening.

Quakers. I found myself following the development of large slices of English industry and banking in the hands of Quakers (but not Quaker Oats). The endowment mortgage we once had was insured through Friends Provident. William Miller Christy expanded the hat business set up by his father Miller Christy, and founded the London Joint Stock Bank. Selling the bank, he used the money to start a cotton business in Stockport and Droylsden in Manchester. The business had great success with the Christy towel using the first industrially produced looped cotton (terrycloth) which is still being made.

Workers. Margaret's maternal grandad Herbert Kelsall (first generation out of Ireland) was a lifelong worker in the Droylsden mill, rising to be a foreman. On retirement after more than 50 years' service he got a barometer and a thermometer, both relying on columns of mercury: very impressive for anyone interested in the history of physics.

Suits. I did once have a Burton Suit which cost £10 and which I used for interviews when I first started teaching in Hull, Slough, High Wycombe and then Huddersfield. I think it also had a waistcoat (the full monty!)

Storms. We thought of you on your exposed peninsula in the Isle of Skye as Storm Ali swept across the British Isles. We only got a side swipe here in East Yorkshire but that made the motorhome rock and the field flood for a while.

Following the Romans. We came north on the A697 and camped just outside Wooler for a while to enjoy some cycling on quiet Northumbrian lanes. We also visited Flodden Field and the villages of Carham and Wark. We didn't return on the A697 which would take us into the industrial areas of Tyneside, but we did want to cross over Carter Bar for the sake of auld lang syne (Barry's teenage bike ride from Hull to the Borders) and follow the old Roman Dere Street down to the Wall and Corbridge (where Margaret cut her archaeological teeth with the renowned Prof Eric Birley of Durham University). We continued to Alston and down Teesdale and so back onto the North York Moors, although access via Sutton Bank was blocked for road works.

Scottish Poet Alan Mackintosh. I have done some work in tracing the cemetery where Alan lies. It is north-east of the village of Flesquieres and he was killed a little further north-east in the village of Cantaing-sur-Escaut less than 5 miles south-west of Cambrai. Others killed in the same battle will also be in the cemetery. The circumstances of his death are given in English on a French website.

Chocolate, Mackerel and Poppadoms. Thanks very much for the chocolate cake recipe, which we both look forward to trying. It was memorable! And we only found one small bone in the mackerel, you did a good job of filleting it. Smoked mackerel sounds great - I do like kippers and smoked haddock. We've already tried the poppadoms with a beef curry and they worked very well, microwaved individually for 30 seconds each side. What a discovery!

Ferry to Greece. We have indeed taken the overnight ferries from Italy on many occasions, mostly from Ancona but also from Bari and Brindisi, as well as travelling to and from Greece overland by a variety of routes. From Ancona you have a choice of Superfast or Minoan ferries, and both use reasonably good ships. Minoan Lines offer a 'Camping All Inclusive' deal for motorhomes and caravans, giving you a place for the vehicle with a hookup, a 2-berth inside cabin for the price of 2 deck tickets and a 30% discount on meals . The price for the motorhome depends on its length (up to 6 metres, 6-8 m or 8-10 m).

Superfast/ANEK (same company) don't include a cabin and meal voucher, but they allow 'Camping on Board' between 1 April and 31 October. This means you can sleep and eat in the motorhome, with a hookup (don't use gas), as well as having access to the rest of the ship. Their fares are usually slightly cheaper, though from 1 November onwards you have to pay extra for a cabin.

Look Ahead: We would advise booking the ferry ahead (and there's some discount on a return ticket - and for over 60's, if you are). You can book on-line or by phone - we usually ring the Ancona terminal to make sure.

Camping and Cycling in Greece. Campsites and overnight parking places will not be too busy in October and we have never needed to reserve a place - the season is over. As to cycling, the Peloponnese is hilly/mountainous! For example, our favourite campsite (Ionion Beach, 50 miles south of Patras) is less than 7 miles ride from the village of Vartholomio but it involves a serious climb each way. You can take a fairly level shorter ride from Ionion to Loutras Killini and back - but watch out for stray dogs!

Barry Crawshaw. The MMM's former foreign travel editor accepted our first article for publication in 1996. It was called 'By Eck' and described a Yorkshireman's experience of motorhoming in Germany. The 'Eck' referred to the Deutsches Eck, the German Corner, where a gigantic memorial to German Unity stands on the point in Koblenz (Roman name Confluentes) where the Mosel meets the Rhine.

In Retirement: Barry also edited readers' reports on foreign campsites and compiled the magazine's popular 'Marketplace Products and Publications' section. In retirement, Barry and his wife Muriel travelled widely in their a new, specially modified 5-metre 'masterpiece' (his words) from East Neuk Campervans. Among other things, they completed a 5-month, 4,000-mile (25-ferry) journey in Scotland surveying 160 campsites for a new edition of the Vicarious Publications 'Seaview Camping Guide'.

Locked Out? It will be interesting to be out of the country next April (tempting the fates with that remark) when we find that our driving licences, insurance, EHIC, vehicle taxation and registration are no long valid away from our isolated island. Perhaps we may not even be allowed back in again, once the right wing of the Tory party have gained what they call 'control' of the borders.

Relatives at War. I am familiar with the background to David's tank war: Le Havre, Nijmegen, Arnhem, Remagen. Doris's brother Cyril was with the East Riding Regiment in the first British crossing of the Rhine in March 1945. Her other brother, Charlie, fought in Burma and took a long time to recover after his return to the UK. Their father, also Charlie, was gassed in the trenches in WW1 and died prematurely from the ensuing damage to his lungs. In WW1 Margaret's dad, Fred, joined up at the age of 15 and survived being shot down over France 2 years later as an observer in the RFC; in WW2 her mother's brother, Uncle Harold (a lovely man, I knew him well), served in the RASC in North Africa through Sicily and Anzio to Rome. After demob he was unemployed for some time, as cotton mills closed throughout Lancashire.

National Service. I was in the RAF in Hong Kong and Michael's in the Army in South Korea illustrate the same point: he as a private, me as a Junior Technician (one stripe upside down after trade training). One side starts the salute; the other side acknowledges it. A salute is very near both physically and metaphorically to the touching of a forelock.

Two Kinds of Middle Class. Does knowledge of each other's lives on either side of the entrenched class divide bring us any closer? It's not possible, since society itself and its different levels of power and wealth produce different kinds and levels of consciousness. Few have the will or the opportunity to breach this fundamental barrier. The 11+ and its successors plucked people with IQ's about one standard deviation above the mean out of the working class in order to produce a parallel pseudo middle class. These people were needed to help run large organisations (state and private) and deal with matters technical. The rewards were material: suburban living, motor cars, caravans, foreign holidays, etc. Meanwhile, the traditional middle class runs in parallel, providing the necessary cultural input and example. It's this artificially induced would-be middle class which is now diminishing, as the mode of production changes, its cost to the state becomes too great and Artificial Intelligence takes over at much less cost to the capitalists.

Belonging. I certainly know where I belong in all this. In the transport café rather than the restaurant. Among the descendants of the Anglo Saxons rather than the Normans. Among the people who went to America and created their own country, rather than stay and be revolutionaries in their own. I rather object to having been taken out of where I belonged among the working class: I, and many more of my kind, might well have had more influence behind the scenes in left wing politics where there has for many years been a great void.

Cycling with Danger. We are near Corbridge on the Roman Wall having come down from Scotland yesterday over Carter Bar. Next, we move on to the yard at the back of the bike shop next to the Lidl in Pickering. The weather is dry but windy, the country hilly, our spirits adapted to living in the UK for a while and the motoring public still committed to killing, maiming, intimidating or just plain scaring cyclists, seemingly unencumbered by any legal restrictions. Or is this just warfare among the lower classes?

Passed the Distillery: We stayed 3 nights on the way down at Newtonmore (south of Aviemore), where National Cycle Route 7 almost passes the campsite gate. It goes from Sunderland to Inverness via Glasgow (!) and we cycled 30 miles of it, on quiet roads or separate cycle paths, along the edge of the Cairngorms. The Dalwhinnie Distillery we passed was of less interest than the Newtonmore truckers' grill, with its excellent bacon and sausage sandwiches.

Camping in Innerleithen. Next we drove south, across the Firth of Forth on the new motorway brldge (not even on our satnav), to this site on the bank of the Tweed which we used on the way up. It's the Tweedside Caravan Park in Innerleithen near Peebles; no more than 100 yards from the river although it doesn't form the border at this point. It has a separate area for gipsies, who are actually quieter than the locals - at least yesterday, when a Pipe Band Competition was being held in the town. It's sunnier and warmer the further south we go, though today it's wet and windy so we retreated to the campsite bar (the Tow-Bar) to try their Sunday Roast Lunch of good local lamb.

Cycling Surprise. Having got reasonably cycling fit in Greece, we continued riding in the Netherlands and, surprising to us, when we returned to the UK. This is the first time we have cycled in this country for many years and it took some getting used to. So far, we have ridden quite a few miles in the Yorkshire Wolds, the North York Moors, the Vale of Pickering, the Northumberland border country, Glencoe and the Isle of Skye.

All's Well that Ends Well. All our long-running complaints about the malpractices of various lettings agents (3) and solicitors (3) over the years have ended well, with us as winners. More vicariously, we remain involved and concerned with people writing to us with their Marquis complaints: what a rogue company that is.

Aussies in Africa. Lovely to hear that you are still travelling far and wide, in South Africa this time. Do tell us more about that. Was it a group tour, and where to, and how safe did it feel? We only went there once, flying into Cape Town from London and out of Jo'burg to Sydney. We'd intended to cycle between the two cities but were severely warned by the police and everyone else that we'd be murdered, so we left the bikes at a guest house and hired a car to explore the Great Karoo before taking the train to Jo'burg.

Reflections from the Isle of Skye. Ever north, via Glencoe to Mallaig and the ferry to Armadale to visit our Australian friends Bec & Kev, now living here on their 12-acre croft across the water from Dunvegan Castle, on an island off an island off the European mainland. The good weather has given way to Atlantic rain but we can sit at the window and watch dolphins in the bay, red deer on the hillside and gannets diving for fish. Skye still maintains its beautiful presence, despite the great increase in tourist numbers on its narrow roads: all desperately seeking to actually see the item that topped the Daily Mail's latest top-ten list of tourist objects in the British Isles. See and be seen on Facebook, etc. This time it's the 'Fairy Pools' in Glen Brittle under the glowering volcanic precipices and rough gabbro rock of the Cuillin Mountains, a million miles from where Barry used to camp and climb several decades ago.

Walking on Burning Peat. While getting our Paul Hewitt bikes serviced at Leyland we camped on a farm at Rivington, right below the Winter Hill mast on Rivington Moor, with the peat still smouldering under the blackened heath that was out of bounds.

Difficulties in Holmfirth. We worked our way up through Yorkshire, including a couple of nights at Holme Valley Camping while we visited Huddersfield. The site was busy with a children's camp and Hazel hasn't altered since we were there years ago; I do find her difficult. Then on to rediscover favourite places to cycle on the Yorkshire Wolds and North Yorkshire Moors, until we reached Northumberland and the Borders.

Estonian Memories. Many thanks for your greetings from Estonia and the photo of the Lahemaa Coffeepot, with its good memories of Dieter & Julia and our visits there.

August 2018 (England and Scotland)

Remembrance in Ypres 2006. On a number of earlier journeys, we walked and cycled in parts of the WW1 battlefront and visited many a Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemetery: Arras, Cambrai, the Somme, Ypres as well as Verdun and three visits to Gallipoli. We were last at Ypres in 2006 on 11 November (a national holiday in Belgium, France, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the USA), standing by the Menin Gate when a band of Scottish Highlanders marched through playing the pipes. We joined Sonia Gandhi, who was there to lay wreaths on a memorial to Indian Soldiers who died in Flanders fields.

Last Post. The local fire brigade buglers still sound the Last Post at the Menin Gate every evening at 8 pm, a custom that only halted during WW2.

Remembrance in Soissons 2011. The town on the River Aisne was on the front line in WW1 and had been almost completely destroyed. We joined the citizens in their remembrance service in the square on the dry crisp morning of 11 November (Armistice Day – a national holiday in France). Interestingly, there was no religious or military element to the formal proceedings. The present Mayor lit the flame of remembrance at the French Memorial (with an escort from the Fire Brigade!), local dignitaries laid flowers, the Anciens Combattants stood to attention with their flags while a message from President Sarkozy was read, and the assembled school children sang the Marseillaise, accompanied by a Police band - a chance for all to join in.

Remembering the British Way: Then, to our surprise, we were all marched round to the British Monument for a more emotional ceremony. A senior schoolgirl read a French translation of John McCrae's poem 'In Flanders Field'. An official from the CWGC presented a medal to the city and the Mayor thanked him for the Commission's work. A lone British Army Warrant Officer spoke the traditional words 'They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we shall remember them' as he laid his wreath of poppies, with a smart salute. Finally, the French mixed infants (led by their teacher of English) waved Union Jacks and made a brave attempt at 'God Save the Queen' in English, including a verse we didn't know.

Riding North. We worked our way up through Yorkshire, rediscovering favourite places to cycle on the Yorkshire Wolds and North Yorkshire Moors, until we reached Northumberland and the Borders. After cycling round Flodden Field at Branxton (sad to see that the house with the concrete menagerie had been sold and the garden closed) and out to Ford village, we drove on to visit more places redolent with memories.

Ever North. Via Glencoe to Mallaig and the ferry to Armadale (seat of Clan Donald) and on to visit friends living on their 12-acre croft across the water from Dunvegan Castle. The good weather has given way to Atlantic rain, but we can sit at the window and watch dolphins in the bay and red deer on the hillside. Skye still maintains its beautiful presence, despite the great increase in tourist numbers on its narrow roads: all desperately seeking to actually see the item that topped the Daily Mail's latest top-ten list of tourist objects in the British Isles. Seeing is Believing. See and be Seen on Facebook, etc. This time it's the 'Fairy Pools' in Glen Brittle under the glowering volcanic precipices and rough gabbro rock of the Cuillin Mountains, a million miles from where Barry used to camp and climb several decades ago.

Over the Sea to Skye. The bridge has greatly eased access to the Isle of Skye, but a number of things have caused the increase in tourist numbers. The island is advertised by the Scottish Tourist Board; Skye provides backgrounds for other kinds of advertising (eg for cars); it appearing in TV series (eg the Outlanders) and comes top in the Daily Mail list of the ten most romantic places in the UK. The effect of all this has indeed benefited hotels and B&Bs and the few campsites on the island: indeed some of these places can be booked for up to a year ahead. But motorhomes free-camp and few stop long enough to spend any money!

Echoes of the 1930's. Brexit is and always was a nightmare. I still wake up each morning having to re-establish that it is really happening and not part of the night's wandering images. There must still be a hope that sanity will prevail, if only at the last minute. I have read a lot about the rise of the Third Reich, the fall of the Weimar Republic and the propaganda techniques which have now become very familiar. The overall idea for the fascists then, and the Tories now, is to create economic and social chaos out of which the new Leader can arise as saviour. Although Jacob Rees-Mogg makes an unlikely Führer, so did a failed painter from Lintz. Now, as then, there really are no democratic processes to prevent this happening.

The Loch Leven Ride. Yesterday, camped at Glencoe, we enjoyed re-riding the circuit of Loch Leven with the well-remembered coffee and cakes still waiting at the pub/café in the tiny settlement of Kinlochleven at the head of the glen. The circular ride is just 40 km but with enough hills to stretch the legs. We had a long conversation with two young mountain bikers (they were drinking pints) who had come from Glencoe by the shorter but harder route – over the top between glens on part of the West Highland Way footpath. This was a fascinating comparative study of bikes, ages, routes and personality!

Forgive and Forget? Evidence of a Scotland seeking reconciliation, forgiving and forgetting, is the code for getting into the toilets on this campsite in Glencoe. It is 1692. This just happens to be the year of the Glencoe Massacre that took place hereabouts when the Campbells, encouraged by the English, massacred 38 members of the Clan MacDonald. In the village there is a café/pub with the name 'Glencoe Gathering' which offers free WiFi – although that's about 326 years too late!

From River to River. There were many re-awakened memories on this long slow journey north through Northumberland. The county name literally derives from 'North Humber Land' or 'Northumbria', the 300-year-long Anglo-Saxon kingdom which stretched from the Humber to the Forth. The last king was Eric Bloodaxe: you certainly knew who was in charge in those days, which is more than can be said now.

On the Border. Now in Tyndrum after a couple of nights in Innerleithen on the Tweed about 5 miles from Peebles. Splendid border country, knee deep in castles with views of the Cheviots looking as though they were advancing menacingly into Scotland. Great cycling there on a former railway line following the river.

The Plague of Tourists. Rather like the varying plagues of animals in Australia (rabbits, camels, emus, cane toads, feral cats – and possums in NZ), what helps to increase their number (good grazing or plentiful other animals further down the food chain) also helps to decrease them again as they run out of grazing or other animals. So with tourists; they invariably spoil (ruin/destroy) the thing that increased their numbers in the first place and therefore they decline again, or move on to the next tourist object. Alfred Wainwright knew all about this.

North of Pickering. Camped behind a cycle shop opposite the Lidl, we rode up to Newton-on-Rawcliffe and met the new owner of the White Swan where we used to camp. To say he was grumpy would be an insult to that member of the dwarf gang. He was very grumpy and the pub was clearly not prospering as a result.

Across Newton Dale. We rode on from Newton and got the bikes down the steep hillside track to Levisham station (on the Pickering-Whitby railway) and up the opposite side (a prolonged 1 in 6) to Levisham village. There the welcoming Horseshoe pub provided super sandwiches (chicken and prawn) served with chips and a pot of tea out in their garden. Later we returned to the station and followed a forest track to Stape and the beginning of the Roman road. On the way to and from the Horseshoe, we passed a gang of young apprentices from the North York Moors National Park Authority engaged in spraying the bracken. Full hazard suits and helmets. Very impressive. Not least, they were trying to reduce the risk of fire.

Data Protection. Note to a Campsite in Holmfirth: 'You have passed my name, my email address and the fact that I have stayed at your campsite to an organisation called 'Campstead' without my express permission, which I would not give. I also have no knowledge of 'Campstead' and how secure this data is with them. How many more times might it be passed on? I advise you that it is your legal duty to keep personal data secure and not to share it with any other person or organisation without prior agreement. I gave you this personal information purely for the purpose of booking into your campsite and not for any other use.

Kindle Adventures. Some years ago, I ordered my Kindle through Amazon.com when their .co.uk website would not deliver to Greece. This was on their advice and it turned out that it was coming from the USA. It took over two weeks to get the package out of Greek Customs who were treating it with great suspicion. One of the problems was that their clearance forms were in Greek and needed my VAT number. Eventually I had to get an Athens courier to get the Kindle from the customs and deliver it to me down in the Peloponnese. Being in England makes buying a replacement quite a lot easier.

July 2018 (England)

Being in England. Apart from lingering over repair issues with the motorhome (I'm trying a different garage on Monday), we have strangely and perhaps for the first time become used to being in the UK again. The cycling is going well; we are enjoying the craic, particularly up here in the North; we are now staying on our fourth farm, which is interesting; there are about 175 channels on the TV of which at least one is watchable at any one time; the shops hold all that we could ever conceive of needing (and more) and there is fascination in observing the mainland from this offshore island, particularly through the eyes of the UK media with its not-so-hidden agendas, political bias, sins of omission and straightforward lies. Not least, the meanings of key words ('deal'?) drift and change with a vagary that suits the fluctuating states of the Brexit shambles.

Takeover. Is this what it was like in the Weimar Republic before a failed Austrian painter grabbed power? The difference is that our would-be Führers (I am told that there is no 's' on the plural in the original German, rather like the plural of 'sheep' in English) are the products of public schools, Oxbridge and PPE!

On Winter Hill. We are camped on a sheep farm on Rivington Moor under Winter Hill near Bolton, recently in the national news for its fires encroaching on the summit TV mast from all sides. All access to the moor is still closed since the fire, extinguished on the surface, is still burning in the peat beds below. It's possible to actually fall through the surface into a death that would not need the services of a crematorium.

Greek Services. Hitherto, there has never been a single problem with this motorhome in the exactly 4 years we have had it; perhaps the problem is with the garages rather than the motorhome. Themistocles Vasilopoulos who owns the garage near the town of Pirgos (= Tower) in the Greek Peloponnese could fix it in a moment with a smile, a cup of coffee and half an hour on the parlous state of the Greek and his own economy. This was illustrated by his daughter, a medical doctor working in Areopolis (= 'city of Ares', the ancient Greek God of War) a small town in the southwest Peloponnese, being short even of bandages so patients had to bring or buy their own. Appropriately, her practice was under the control of the main hospital in Sparta.

The Affluent English Working Class. What we learned from this meeting with a typical generational cross-section of English affluent working-class life did no more than confirm our success in escaping its clutches! Lovely people, friendly and very generous with their food and their time. But what small worlds they live in and experience, communicating through anecdotes and stories. What was played out yet again was the gods' (or God's if you prefer) joke that understanding only flows one way. From the outer to the inner. From outside to inside. We could understand who they were and why they were, and how they became that way and how they pass it on to their children, etc: they couldn't (and didn't) even begin to reciprocate that process. Our stories, far removed from their lives, held no interest for them.

A Hierarchy of Knowing. I don't know what this hierarchy is, but it is one that we become aware of with increasing frequency. Perhaps Benjamin S Bloom came near to it with his cognitive taxonomy. Perhaps it's something about the way that the brain is structured and then programmed within different societies and within different levels within a society. Language and how it is used is part of it. Degree of consciousness is part of it. Ability to be self-aware is part of it.

Freedom to Program. I am ever more thankful that my parents didn't attempt to program me according to their needs, customs and values. I was left to find my own way into life, a long slow sometimes random process. Times of tragedy were crucial, not so much in reshaping me as in helping me realise that the original Barry was not formed of stone but rather of a substance that could lose its intended shape and then reform itself. In contemporary parlance I learned that if existing programs weren't working, there was plenty of scope for new ones.

A Modern Miracle. Satnavs give current speed, average speed, fuel consumption and cost as well as time of arrival, time taken, distance to go and altitude! Along with this, the thing knows where we are exactly on its map, and a voice can guide us every step along a pre-set route, turn by turn, roundabout by roundabout. Maps that cover the whole of Europe are so good that even cycling in familiar places, we find new roads and byways on which to ride.

Stunted Growth. We have been on the road for over 23 years and have motorhomed throughout Europe, Australia, New Zealand and the USA. We have experienced the whole motorhome industry grow from almost nothing (in 1994 we rarely met another motorhomer) to a situation now where arguably there are too many motorhomes. A parallel development has been the way that campsites have responded to this growth, from initially trying to keep up with it and attract motorhomes to almost giving up in several mainland countries, where much cheaper places have opened to provide motorhomes with the little they actually need. This development has been blocked in the UK by draconian laws restricting motorhomes from parking overnight and maintaining tight control of campsites and how they can operate. It is very British that thousands of small campsites can only be used by members of a club, one of which has the Duke of Edinburgh as its patron!

Tribute to Paul Hewitt Cycles of Leyland. Many thanks to you and to your staff for the recent service for the bicycles you made for us 12 years ago. Not only new rims, but a new chain for me and new chain rings all round. You also completely rebuilt the braking systems on both wheels of both bikes. They are as good as new where the key word is smooth – smooth brakes, smooth gear changes and smooth pedalling with the well-known Paul Hewitt stability and efficiency. It now feels as though 100% of the energy we put into pedalling is translated into forward motion. All this and a good conversation too.

Hoboes. Our daily concerns are with food, water, safety, warmth, somewhere for the night, etc. The situation is summarised in a story we tell of a meeting with three men sat in a row on the harbour in Galway on a cool misty morning. One asks us for a pound so that they can have a cup of tea. By way of explanation he says 'you see, we are hoboes'. I reply 'so are we, but we can afford it'. Obviously this was some time ago, a pound would hardly suffice today for one man's tea, let alone three!

June 2018 (to England via Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovenia, Austria, Germany, Netherlands)

At the End of the Road (for now). We are at the end of a 2,000-mile motorhome journey from the Greek Peloponnese, travelling here through Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, Germany and so into the cyclists' paradise also known as the Netherlands. The highlights of the journey were rather dim: the lack of a horn driving in Albanian traffic and the amazing number of Autobahn-widening schemes in Germany, each producing its very own kilometres-long Stau (traffic jam). Such are the excitements of travel.

Full Charge. Excellent cycling weather and opportunities in the mountains of Greece have led to a level of fitness that enables us to almost compete with elderly stout Dutch matrons leading their spouses along endless fietspads (cycle paths) - both mounted on heavy upright electric bikes! Under full sail! However, there are gender-based repercussions and consequences:

Will Power. The 'Will of the British People' soldiers on its solitary, lone and isolated way as the last and only reason for the continuing Brexit madness. This will was apparently expressed in ignorance two years ago by 17 million people out of a population of 65 million, or 26%, or a touch over a quarter. Democracy at work hand-in-hand with a parliament operating as it has done since the days of Henry VIII.

The Ugly Face of Nationalism. Conversations with thoughtful Europeans throughout our travels simply lump the UK with Trump, Poland, Hungary and now Italy as symptomatic of a rise in nationalism in its crudest and least-informed form. After 70 years of post-war co-operation and unification, fragmentation and vilification have been re-awakened. Countries such as Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Macedonia and Serbia, keen to join the EU and already benefitting enormously from EU support, cannot believe that the UK is floundering its incompetent way towards leaving! Neither can we.

Gas. We have two 11 kg refillable gas (LPG) cylinders in the motorhome, fitted by Autogas Leisure of Thirsk, instead of carrying Calor gas bottles. You can then refill or top up cheaply and easily at any fuel station with an LPG pump for cars. It's impossible to refill Calor bottles legally abroad.

Hazards. As for hazards, one definition is: 'an unknown and unpredictable phenomenon that causes an event to result one way rather than another.' This is, of course, at the heart of travelling and only something to be avoided by holiday-makers and tourists. I once came up with the aphorism 'Only when you are lost can you find yourself – in unknown places': a key ambition for the traveller. And so we go on, while we May (how that word has changed its resonance from feelings of summer to the shivers of lunacy).

It's All Relative. Our problems in travelling too often stem from meetings with our least favourite relative – Aunty Climax. She greets us on too many corners, at the top of too many hills, on arrival at too many over-anticipated places, when meeting too many other people dressed up as travellers!

Wheels. Paul Hewitt is among the best wheel-builders in the Kingdom. He has a letter of thanks from Sir Bradley Wiggins CBE for his winning wheels (I nearly wrote 'winged wheels' the logo of the former Cyclists Touring Club). The wheels Paul built for us, along with the rest of our two bikes in the summer of 2007, have remained perfectly true with no spoke breakage and (co-incidentally) no punctures throughout their many revolutions. The rims will only be replaced if Paul judges they have become too worn by brake pads after too many long, over-heating downhill rides.

Behind the Bar. We are now staying a night in a rough field behind a bar in this small village, just a few miles from the motorway that runs almost the length of Croatia. We've travelled through Albania, Montenegro and Bosnia so far, and already we can feel the heavy hand of European capitalism descending on these Balkan lands, with its shock troops in the tourist business leading their exploitative way. The people of Dubrovnik, Mostar and Sarajevo must be echoing Pink Floyd's words: 'Was it for this that daddy died?'

Making Ourselves Heard. With Slovenia, Austria, Germany and the Netherlands to come, we are now halfway on a journey of 2,000 miles to Rotterdam from our starting point in the Peloponnese. The most excitement so far has come from the motorhome's horn not working when it was most needed, among the Albanian kamikazes in their window-darkened black Mercedes! Dick Lane Motors of Bradford are on standby for the repair.

Back to Albania. We are now about 135 miles north of the Greek border, in an Albania much changed since our first visit in December 2006. At that time we wrote as we entered the country from Montenegro: “A mile before Shkodra we saw the Rozafa fortress at the strategic confluence of the Buna and Drin Rivers, a site guarded by a fort for 2,500 years. We couldn't give it the attention it deserved, distracted as we were by a confused impression of horse-drawn carts shifting haystacks, donkeys laden with corn, wobbling bicycles, overloaded mopeds, stray pedestrians, minarets, merchants' stalls, riverside car-washers, and rows of the little concrete bunkers built by the paranoid ultra-communist President Enver Hoxha, fearing invasion.”

On the Up. Now with EU support and German and Italian investment, the country (Albania) is rapidly taking on the appearances of a typical Balkan country with roads fit to drive on. Behind the scenes, however, there is still great poverty and an absence of young people who have fled south into Greece or north into the rest of Europe in search of work. English is the second language and a country keen to join the EU cannot possibly comprehend a country trying to leave!

May 2018 (Greece)

On a recent ride in the Greek Peloponnese, we cycled from Sparta climbing the eastern flank of the Taigetos - at over 8,000 ft the highest mountain in the Peloponnese. We got to 2,800 ft before the road ended in the tiny, near-deserted mountain hamlet of Anavriti. Fortunately the kafenion was open for us as its solitary customers, the only food being ham and cheese toast or ice cream. We chose the former, a Greek staple, and 'Nes' (a frothy version of instant coffee) along with a jug of fresh cold spring water. The bicycles joined us on the veranda.

The View from the Commission. A senior EU official has said: “I am concerned that if the current debate continues, in three months' time it will be the EU that will be made responsible for the Brexit decision. We need the UK to accept the consequences of its own decisions. To paraphrase 'The Leopard' by Tommaso di Lampedusa, I have the impression that the UK thinks everything has to change on the EU's side so that everything can stay the same for the UK.”

Remaining. If only the Labour Party were ready and able to take over with a clear-cut and sane approach to simply staying in the European Union. The UK became the world's fifth richest country after more than 40 years in the EU: what more do the capitalists and (absurdly) their deluded elderly and unemployed followers want: a risky attempt at fourth place?

Our Address. Sparta (where the people are Spartan), Lakonia (where the people are Laconic), Greece (where the people are definitely Greek).

Holding the Line. Patton, Hollywood and the US and UK media treatment of the WW2 is of course simply part of a successful attempt to delude the populations of those two countries into nationalistic fantasies. So much so that even Dunkirk is portrayed as a victory! By the time the Americans landed in Normandy, with support from Britain, Canada and others, the war was over. Germany was already defeated by the Russians and was in full retreat after Stalingrad. The loss of at least 20 million Russian lives is still felt today. The allies advanced as far as the Elbe and then stopped, allowing Russia to take Berlin. They then stayed more or less on that line to stop the Russians advancing any further west (something helped by the invention of the atomic bomb). That line became the Iron Curtain for the next 45 years.

Holiday-makers come to Greece in order to escape the country they live in; they come to get away from work, from stress, from over-crowding, from the weather. They come to do as little possible, which includes sun-bathing, eating, drinking, spending saved-up holiday money and reading airport novels. The watery edges of most southern European countries are now crowded with them, living the dream promised by the advertisement they responded to, ready to complain if it becomes a nightmare. A 'holiday' is just another commodity to be bought and enjoyed.

Tourists concentrate on tourist objects, which are many and varied and constantly increasing in number. Often they travel in groups (by coach or cruise liner), taking a route pre-planned by the organising company, and they can be of two kinds: general and specialist. General tourists will look at and photograph anything put before them, often with themselves in the foreground (a 'selfie'). If not in a group, they find that the Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide publications provide a list of the ten 'must-see' objects nearby. Specialist tourists focus on particular kinds of tourist objects, often including tourist activities such as wind-surfing, skiing, kayaking, mountain biking, hiking, bird-watching, etc. Turning the countryside into a playground.

Travellers are few in number. Many people who claim to travel do no more than move from one tourist object to another. This, regrettably, is the basis for the majority of motorhome journeys, the main problem being how to get an unwieldy truck anywhere near the required tourist object – finding out in advance where you can park and where you can stay the night. The few long-distance cyclists still on the road are the last of the true travellers: they travel in order to travel. They experience the journey - every twist and turn, every up and down, every change in the road, the vagaries of weather, taking every opportunity to meet local people, finding places to eat, drink and sleep. They are independent and will learn something of the language, culture and history of the country in which they travel. They are the most likely to find the unknown places, the back streets, the secret lanes. They know the value of shelter on a rainy day, a cold day, a hot day, a windy day.

Holiday-maker, Tourist or Traveller? Which are we? For 30 years the category has been ' independent traveller' by motorhome and bicycle, supplemented by ferry and rarely by train or aeroplane. To summarise, holiday-makers don't know where they have been, tourists see only what they have come to see, while travellers don't know where they are going or when they will arrive.

The Royal Wedding. How amusing it was to glimpse the nonsense of last Saturday from Greece, a country that booted out the monarchy many a long year ago – including the once small but now elderly Greco-German-Danish person who was expelled from here in 1922, hidden in a fruit box. Now dubbed the 'Duke of Edinburgh', Originally a member of the House of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg, he later took on the surname of 'Mountbatten', derived from the name of his mother, Princess Alice of Battenberg where they make some very nice cakes. Now he is dubbed the 'Duke of Edinburgh as well many other things. I hear he married somebody called 'Elizabeth' who was his second cousin once removed (where to?). Now they have so many offspring they are running out of titles for them. Perhaps we could suggest some!

Who Pays the Price? It was seriously embarrassing to know that all the monarchic nonsense was going on in our name, at our expense, in association with our nationality, with the Church of England hovering nearby hoping to pick up some celebrity dust. How much more international humiliation can Britain take? Answers on a Schengen Visa.

Up and Down Again. How pleasant is the burgeoning fitness from the fine old art of balancing on two wheels up long high hills and then returning freely to earth with the aid of those mysterious gravitational forces, craftily stored in the mass of the bicycles' hidden parts. Turning the potential into the kinetic. And there are so many hills that have to be mounted, each of unique and increasing length and height.

The Recollections of an American Friend. Many thanks for your email and letting us know something of the price to be paid for entry into Brigadoon (1954). You really shouldn't take Margaret back beyond the reach of memory and take me back to days of adolescence, on the verge of serving Her Majesty in her very own Royal Air Force in her personal Crown Colony of Hong Kong. So we bid you well on your journey from Brigadoon to what many people would regard as a Shanrgri La ('Lost Horizon' in the year of my birth).

April 2018 (Greece)

Testing Times. There is only one thing that forces us reluctantly back to England and that is the annual test and certification for the motorhome. The MOT. All else can be done locally or on the internet (road tax, insurance, driving licence, servicing, repairs, etc), but the MOT needs the presence of the motorhome itself and we have to be on our way. Every country in the European Union has the equivalent of the MOT, but we must have an English one. The Greek one would be easier to pass, judging by the state of many of their cars and trucks!

In the Sun. The weather here is now surpassing perfect and we seem incapable of leaving, although an MOT due in June may force us back to the UK via the Balkans. The cycling has progressed well with some good rides up into the mountains as we work our way round the Peloponnese. Our 'brownness' (as well as our fitness) is an unintended consequence of cycling and (like you) we cannot ever imagine ourselves actually 'sunbathing'. We are unusual among motorhomers, caravanners and most suburban dwellers in not having outside chairs or loungers.

Letter to a Friend. There is little in this world that is lovelier than when you write freely and at some length. That same world is the poorer for your reluctance to do so more frequently and with what used to be called 'gay abandon', but can no longer be so named. Your pen is mightier than any sword and should be available to the Jeremy Corbyn party (another JC, I only just notice). I also notice that 'Corbyn' is underlined by my Google-inspired spell checker. This means that spells can no longer be cast by anyone of that name. So where does all that take us?

Here and There – At the Same Time. On to the subject of Schrodinger's cat. Margaret wants to know if it was all black with green eyes and capable of eating from two bowls of different food at the same time (like our Sooty). Barry thinks of 'black bodies' and the fantasies induced by studying the effects of rising temperatures on black body radiators. I always dreamt of having such a radiator, but ours were always Dulux White Gloss.

Keeping Warm. As a child we were told ne'er cast a clout till May be out. We do know who we would like to clout! Explanation: ne'er cast a cloutsimply means 'never discard your (warm winter) clothing'; till May be outmeans 'before the end of the month of May'.

Could we Meet? We have consulted our old friend, Justin Case, and he advised us to ask you how long are you staying in Kyparissi – when do you leave? It would be amazing to meet again after our long history of friendship.

The Ninth of May is a Public Holiday in Russia, marking the day in 1945 when the Second World War finally reached its end, a victory almost entirely due to the sacrifices of the people of the then Soviet Union. It was also doubly celebrated by a Barry who uses the date to mark his birthday.

A Present from Paddington. I greet every day as a gift and can think of no way in which I could have asked or do ask more of life. However, Paddington Bear, our travelling companion of twenty-eight years (aided by Margaret), sought to make the day special with a card hand-made by an ex-pat friend in Methoni, a box of Lidl's Belgian chocolates, a bag of mini ΣOKOΛATINIA (a Greek dark chocolate speciality) and a crumbly slice of Sklavenitis's best blue cheese.

Birthday Lunch. Margaret joined me in a cycle ride to the nearby town of Zacharo (= Sugar Town) where she treated me to an open-air lunch of ham and cheese toasties, potato-flavoured crisps, and a waffle covered in chocolate and ice cream, all washed down by a double cappuccino with a small biscuit and cold fresh spring water. All of this is part of what is known as the Real Mediterranean Diet.

Annual Events. Here's to the next 584-million-mile journey right around the sun. You can, if you will, add to that the distance travelled as the earth spins about its axis. For example, at 45°N (across Northern Italy), the speed of spin is 733 mph which adds 17,500 miles every day or about 6.4 million miles annually. This gives a total of just over 590 million miles (945 million kilometres) in a year. Enjoy the ride and don't fall off!

Keeping Cool. The fridge stopped working on mains electric and the problem defeated the mechanic from Patras, who George Fligos of Ionion Beach Camping called in! But the Zampetas Brothers of Thessaloniki are brilliant (it's the second time we've been there) and the fridge was promptly and expertly fixed and serviced. In November 2014, Zampetas fitted our Carado motorhome with Goldschmitt rear suspension air bags which have given an excellent ride ever since. Excellent service and a good place to spend the night. If you ever need help with a motorhome problem in Greece, they are the best.

Only the Best. To the Zampetas Brothers: Needless to say, the refrigerator is working very well indeed, handling this hot weather with ease. The operation on gas is also greatly improved with the replacement of the gas jet and the cleaning of the chimney. As the Americans would say, you went far beyond the call of duty and we very much appreciate it.

Service Plus from Zampetas. Added to all you did for us was the pleasure and knowledge we gained through meeting you. What a fine mind you have, coupled with an exceptional command of the English language including the subtleties of its humour. We are experts on the way in which non-native speakers murder our language (as we would say); you used it with grace and effectiveness. As we once told our doctor: we hope not to meet you again any time soon – but if we do it would be very worthwhile!

Which Way from Ig? We're camped near the Greek port of Igoumenitsa, from where we could take an overnight ferry to Italy or drive north across the Albanian border, only 20 miles away. Before leaving, though, we plan to take our bikes on the short crossing to Corfu to cycle there for a day or two. We rode round the island on a half-term break some 25 years ago, but fear it may have changed somewhat!

Protest. Last Tuesday we cycled into Igoumenitsa to find that May Day (a public holiday in Greece) was celebrated by all seven of the Corfu ferryboats being on strike, tied up in a row for 24 hours in the harbour. The completely empty vessels were lined up with their cavernous mouths wide open, their engines dead and the quay deserted. What strength there still is in a Union movement whose May Day banners read IMPERIALISTIKO POLEMO or 'Fight the Imperialists'.

Greek Easter. We're still at Ionion Beach, where it's Easter Sunday and nice and sunny. George and Theo have each hosted separate roast lamb feasts, with 3 lambs apiece! Their parents and all the campers attended George's party, which went well with the usual meat, salads and chips and plenty to drink.

At Ionion Beach Camping. Work went on like crazy on the campsite for the past three weeks to get the restaurant extension, gardens and pool ready to open in time for Easter. Anything that didn't move has been painted blue and white.

Caravan vs Motorhome. For touring and holidays in the UK and the nearby mainland, a caravan is ideal, with the great advantage of a separate vehicle and more spacious living quarters. However, for long-term long-distance travel including the depths of winter, we found the need to find a campsite every time we moved too restrictive. With a motorhome, you can stop on Aires in countries like France, Germany and Italy, sometimes with hook-ups and other facilities. They do not usually accommodate caravans.

Sleeping on the Road. Motorhomes can also park overnight in a variety of places (harbours, car parks, etc) for free. This is not just about saving money, it is about availability. More and more campsites close in winter and it can be difficult to find a place suitable for a caravan out of season. There is also the issue of safety and security. In a motorhome, if you park overnight you can quickly move on if necessary, whereas in a caravan you have to exit and get in the tow-vehicle.

On the Rack. For local transport, we carry our bicycles in the motorhome 'garage' (and we used to carry a small motorbike on a rear rack). Occasionally we leave the motorhome on a site and hire a car, as we recently did in Greece.

The Motorhome Wins. In the end, there are pros and cons either way; it's a matter of personal choice but the motorhome will carry more weight, which is an issue for long-term travel. For example, we can carry 125 litres of fresh water, 100 litres of waste water, 22 kg of LPG refillable at many service stations, 120-watts of photo-voltaic cells on the roof and two large capacity 12-volt batteries in addition to the engine battery. Ideal for long-distance independent travel.

Greek Light and a Scottish Bike. The light here in Greece is a photographer's delight. A friend in the Scottish Isle of Bute gets out on the West Island Way in Bute on a bike that looks like a Thorn with Rohloff gears, just right for the terrain.

How Long? The end of March marked the end of 23 years on the road, without a day off. Will we make it 25? Does it matter? It has been a great and probably undeserved gift that we have such a generous phase between the duties and responsibilities of work and whatever follows this full involvement in the world.

Held by Greece. The country holds us in its thrall as it always does. We are its willing captives, unwilling to pay the price of escape to colder climes. One of many splendid aspects of life here is that the Greek people we meet (most recently the woman running our favourite bakery and spinach pie shop in nearby Vartholomio), understand our love for their country. They share it and we can agree on the word 'magical'. They also invoke the gods, noting the lower case 'g' and the plural 's'. Of course, it takes more than one god to bestow and maintain so many gifts!

Staying for Easter. April is here, camping on board the ferries to Italy has begun, but the Greek Easter is this weekend and so we must stay for that. Lamb roasted over an open fire and a candle lit at midnight from a flame carried from Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulchre cannot be sacrificed for a Lidl chocolate rabbit (the only sign here of the Western Easter). And then perhaps we will drive north, eschewing the ferry in favour of a different route through the Balkans.

An Island to the West. This campsite is opposite the lovely island of Zakynthos (10 miles off-shore), behind which the sun douses itself every evening. We haven't been across for several years and now it's probably best to go off-season. We once asked a Greek friend in Finikounda if she'd ever been abroad. 'Just once' she said 'on holiday to Zakynthos'. She didn't like it, it was full of foreigners.

March 2018 (Greece)

How far? In purely numerical terms, we have travelled 41,857 miles in the 1,337 days since we bought the current motorhome. This is an average of 31.3 miles or less than one hour per day and about 11,500 miles per year. Well below the average for the typical British motorist in their car. If time were so simply apportioned, that would leave 23 hours per day for other activities, including 'reflection'. But life on the road is not like this; it is the last place to find the values and strictures of the capitalist workplace where time is measured in money, profit and output!

Travel in its purest (and least practised) form is so much more than 'driving', 'cycling' and coping with 'hazards' along the way. Travel is an immersion in a multi-dimensional world which contains an amalgam of what the school books divide into separate 'subjects': history, language, geography, politics, climate, agriculture, economics, politics, literature, computing, on and on. They all exist but only within one entity. The vastness of the planet and its place in the solar system and beyond exists for the traveller regardless of which particular place is occupied at a given moment. The physical realities of the earth's rotation exist as much more than 'days' on a calendar; the seasons much more than the passing of years; the moon and the stars an ever present but changing accompaniment, not just something occasionally noticed in passing; gravity felt in every rise and fall of the ground; the wind a fickle friend or enemy  ever-ready to change its strength or its direction; every sound heard on a quiet night, every other human being greeted as a potential friend (or foe), every dog classified as friend or enemy . .  and so it goes on, every day, perhaps every hour. For the traveller there is also the drama of borders, the sudden transitions of language, dress, religion, architecture, rules, customs, currency. The feeling of returning to infant school when faced with a whole new alphabet to be painfully learnt. This is all a small part of what travel actually is.

Ever Ready. The possibilities of what might happen next are infinitely variable, because in travel there is openness to what may be, to what could be. Travel is no more than being available for new experiences; always connected into a network of existing experience whilst leaving open the possibility of future experience. Never a closing down, always new learning. Each new journey continues every previous journey, and may well cross previous tracks, but each to be experienced anew.

Animals. Some people travel with a dog, although it doesn't go well with cycling and cyclists attract attention enough from other people's dogs. Sadly we can't travel with a cat; that will have to wait until we finally settle into a bungalow at the end of some suburban cul-de-sac!

The Greek Easter Anticipated. This year the Greek Orthodox Easter isn't until next weekend when there will be great celebrations, both religious and social. This will be the time for families to be reunited, an important occasion when so many young people have left their native place to find work in the big cities or even in other European countries. Late on Saturday, 7 April churches will be filled with people standing outside and at midnight the church lights are turned off, and to cries of 'Christos Anesti'(Christ is Risen) a single flame lit by the officiating priest will be passed from candle to candle held by each member of the congregation. The flames will be carried home, used to form a smoky cross above the family threshold and then to light the fire which will later roast a whole lamb (or goat) for Easter Sunday lunch. And so a single flame, lit in Jerusalem at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, finds its way into the heart of every family home.

The Greek Lent. For many Greek people, this Easter Sunday feast will mark the end of their Lentern fast when all but bloodless creatures (octopus, squid, cuttlefish) were to be eschewed (that is, not chewed!) Lent began with a carnival in every town and most villages, making real its meaning from the Latin carne + vale = 'farewell to flesh'.

The Catholic Easter. Meanwhile, at what the Greeks call the 'Catholic Easter' (Protestantism is a very remote concept here), it is sad to see another religious festival taken over by commercial and commodity-led interests, rather like Christmas, Saint Valentine's Day, and Halloween superseding All Saints Day. Although we will miss our chocolate egg this weekend!

On Leaving the Apartment. We leave this abode this afternoon, with a parting gift of a sack of freshly picked oranges, mandarins and grapefruit from the orchards of the apartment's owners, Kostas and Iris. Whatever a Greek wants or needs, they have a 'cousin' to supply it. That probably stretches as far as treating allergies and ailments. Either that, or you have to slip somebody some rupees (our generic term for any foreign currency).

Greek Cats. Too many abandoned cats run free in Greece, free to roam and free to add to their own numbers. We call them 'feral cats', the Greeks call them 'trash cats' because they live off the overflowing rubbish bins that too often line the streets. There are organisations that care for, feed and neuter the cats, organisations usually led by expatriate German, Dutch or English women, not forgetting Zoe, the gentle Greek dentist in Methoni, who houses 96 felines!

Sooty. A winter break in the Finikounda apartment was long enough to adopt our own cat – a young black one we called Sooty. He only understood Greek but didn't seem to mind what his name was providing we fed him. In return, he would come in and sleep on our settee. The landlords Kostas (Greek, obviously) and his partner Iris (German, also obvious were you to meet her) fed and cared for pet cats, seven of them, although extra guest cats were always welcome. Iris even drove around the village every morning feeding the semi-feral 'trash cats'. Young Sooty grew splendidly during the 3 months that he shared our temporary home, his delightful character shining through the photographs we took.

Other Sootys. We do miss that place - especially Sooty - but we couldn't take him on the road and he has now joined Iris's gang. He was, of course, named after M's favourite childhood bear, who was found at the end of Blackpool pier the year before her birth. She even saw the Sooty Show 'live' in Southport, a memory rivalling that of Ken Dodd's starring performance at the Blackpool Opera House every season.

Medicine for the Motorhome. After a night up at Mistraki, we drove north to ask our good friend Themis Vasilopoulos at the Ford garage near Pylos why the motorhome engine was protesting after its 3-month rest. He quickly prescribed a shot of 'medicine' to counteract the microbes in bio-diesel (yes really) and it did the trick!

George Never Stops. Having come that far north we continued to our favourite Greek campsite at Ionion Beach for a few days - and here we remain, seduced by ultra-modern heated facilities and good WiFi. George's work team are busy on yet another round of projects (enlarging the restaurant, enclosing the BBQ area, adding another pool-side café, creating some supersized pitches and planning an indoor storage shed for the boats and vans that are left on-site all year) - to mention but a few!

Swops. A lone English woman, Anne, was here in her campervan for a few days and swapped 100 Yorkshire tea bags and a dozen Oxo cubes for a jar of M's marmalade - a good deal, they grow great tea in Yorkshire! She's from Holmfirth ('Last of the Summer Wine' country). Just heard from her at Camping Thines.

Rain and Snow in most of Europe. Greece, on the other hand, has been milder than usual over the winter, always in double figures Celsius. The worst was a few wet and windy days when the stream floodedour lane in Finikounda but it soon evaporates and now it's officially Spring. On 27 Feb we saw the first Hoopoe in the trees, back from Africa, and the toads and terrapins in said stream have come out of hibernation already. In the north of the country there has been some snow along the mountainous borders with Macedonia and Bulgaria, causing alarm and despondency as they are unprepared for it, with no money for road clearing and such. But here at Ionion Beach Camping (next to Camping Aginara) the weather is warming up, the sun has some heat in it, spring flowers have sprung and it's time to get back on the road before we start to take root. We'll probably travel around the Peloponnese before heading north and west – certainly not in a hurry to drive north!

Memories of Sicily and California. We cannot say that we remember those days together in Sicily and in San Rafael - because we could never forget them! They were very special days that stand out in our life of travel: days with you and Dick and Sally. Unforgettable also is the week we spent with you in San Rafaeland the day we spent with Paget, cycling together up and down the hills of San Francisco.

The Man with the Tickling Stick. Margaret was sad to hear of Ken Dodd's demise, with fond childhood memories of seeing him fill the Blackpool Opera House with laughter as he turned on the audience, and flood the town with light when he turned on the illuminations. Hard to explain his appeal to a logical Barry ('what do you mean, on a beautiful day why would he want to put a cucumber through the vicar's letter box …?') – you just had to be there when the laughter began before the end of the joke. As the night wore on, Ken would announce the times that folk from Fleetwood, or wherever, should leave or risk missing the last tram! Posh people from Lytham St Anne's with a car (not us) could stay till they dragged him off stage well after midnight.

Tory vs the Rest. Many thanks too for your telling depiction of the Andrew Marr Show with Boris and the Russian Ambassador. All the front line of the Tory Party continue to look worn, tired, dispirited and no match for the sane and well-informed line up in the EU Commission, Parliament and Council. It is not just the Russians who poke fun at us; we have become a joke throughout mainland Europe, even in Greece. Partly for the idea of Brexit itself, but now mainly for the sheer incompetence with which the negotiations are being handled by a line-up of idiots. 20 and more months after the referendum no-one yet knows what the leavers were voting for. And how did 17 million voters get to 'express the will' of 65 million people?

Joke. Did you hear about the mathematician who's afraid of negative numbers? He will stop at nothing to avoid them.

In the Interim. The weather is good with temperatures in the lower twenties and heating no longer required in the motorhome. In this period between Carnival and Easter (aka Lent) the Greeks are at their happiest with the olive and citrus harvests complete, the resulting money under the mattress and an Easter feast in the planning. And not a tourist in sight, which means that we are more than welcome.

Friendship. The meetings of travellers produce a different kind of friendship. Perhaps only travellers understand each other.

Five Websites. Each website has its own stories to tell, its own purpose and its own structure. None of them have any commercial connections of any kind and they are free to use without the need for registration or creating a silly username and fictitious email address. And no precious time is wasted getting annoyed with group warfare within a so-called forum, because there aren't any.

Post-Brexit Woes. If we think that vehicle insurance is a problem now, wait until after 'Brexit', if that actually happens. It's just dawning on this excuse for a government what an impossible task they have taken on. It's not that it won't be done, rather that it can't be done. That's why they are leaving Mrs May to do it, more or less on her own. Motorhome insurance, already quite restricted, is one of the hundreds if not thousands of connections to mainland countries that are going to have to be disconnected and then reconnected in a less favourable way.

Googling. We have never actively promoted the MagBazTravels website, although there are regular emails from people who could improve our Google rankings and hits, or offer us money for advertising. The idea of being totally non-commercial is very attractive. We have a loyal following and are often accused of being 'inspirational' by newcomers, partly because we were very early into cycling and motorhoming in Eastern Europe when that first opened up. We set an example of what was possible with a converted van on limited means in retirement. We also focus on 'how you could do it' rather than the 'look at us doing it' favoured by people on ego trips.

Retirement as Transition. Our websites have enabled us to get to know and keep in touch with a wide range of people, some of them going through the major transition of retirement. Travel and motorhoming appeal only to certain kinds of people, who also sometimes turn out to be our sort of person. In the old days we could meet long-distance cyclists along the road with bags strapped all over their bikes and immediately feel like old friends. All of them: they were self-selected but now they are an endangered species.

Coherence. Travel is what we do and writing about it and taking photographs of it are just a part of it, not separate things to fit in. One of the attractions is that it is a coherent way of life; all the parts join together within one overall theme: the journey, the places, the people, the country, the food, the language, the currency, the history, the experiences, the problems, the weather, the walking, the cycling, etc. It's a life where the physical, the intellectual and the emotional all play a part and don't become fragmented or disjointed. There is also the stimulation of constant diversity and change.

February 2018 (Greece)

Buying a Car the Greek Way. Our landlord, Kostas, is trying to buy a second-hand car in Germany to replace the well-used BMW he got second-hand 25 years ago. It takes up to 2 weeks to get the money authorised by the banks and by other authorities before it can be spent outside the country. Not least, and to his great indignation, he has to prove to the Greek and German governments that he is 'not a Pakistani' in his words (to the Greeks, all migrants are 'Pakistanis'). This proof is needed because apparently too many 'Pakistanis' have already gone to Germany from Greece.

Greek-English-German. Kostas is an economics graduate who studied for two years in Germany and whose English, although adequate, is peppered with German words for which Margaret gives him the English. Makes for interesting conversation.

The Greek Carnival. The Greeks have just started their 6-week run up to Easter, which this year is a week after the non-Orthodox (unorthodox?) one. Their Carnival was last weekend followed by Clean Monday when they (supposedly) give up meat until their Easter Sunday when they roast a whole lamb (or goat). 'Carnival' comes from the Italian 'carne levare' – to remove meat, or the earlier Latin 'carne vale' – farewell to meat.  For the Greek 'meat' doesn't include 'bloodless creatures' such as octopus and squid, so that's all right.

ACSI Discounted Campsites. We always buy and use the 2-volume Camping Card ACSI book, which quickly pays for itself. The 2018 edition contains 39 sites in Greece that give low season discount with the card, along with their opening dates and other details. Of course, it's also useful for the other 3,291 sites in a further 20 countries of Europe. Available directly from ACSI as well as from Vicarious Books (whose proprietors Chris and Meli we first met in Greece!)

Free Camping in Greece. Not much has changed in Greece for motorhomers in recent years (except the price of fuel) and wild camping (which we prefer to call overnight parking) is not a problem as long as it is discreet (not next to a campsite that is open!) Harbours and museum car parks are favourite spots, as well as places where you might take an evening meal. There are very few official Camperstops, though there is an excellent one (Afrodite's Waters) in walking distance of Ancient Corinth for a small charge.

Maps of Greece. The best maps are the reliable Road & Tourist Maps published by Road Cartography. We are currently using the one for the Peloponnese, scale 1:200,000, cost 7.95 Euros. Don't know if they are available in the UK, we buy them once we are here at a good bookshop or motorway services. We have found other maps unreliable, often out of date and not showing new motorways. The road atlas we innocently bought in Igoumenitsa the first time we arrived in Greece (over 20 years ago) had several pages missing. When we took it back, we found that the whole stock was the same! But that is the charm of the country ...?

These days, we also use our Garmin SatNav but would never be without a back-up map. Our best advice is don't plan too far ahead, in too much detail, just enjoy the ride. And bring enough LPG to last, unless you have refillable bottles!

Mass Tourism. It's very interesting to read your almost inevitable conclusions about visiting Iceland, the only country in the whole of Europe that we have never set foot on. It seems it will remain so. Mass tourism indeed kills the very thing that was marketed. We remember seeing an advert for Ireland 'Come and drive on our empty roads'. Here at the foot of the Peloponnese, at least, they remain empty and are wonderful for winter cycling. Thank goodness that the threat of earthquakes prevents any of the high-rise buildings that transformed the fishing villages along the south coasts of Portugal and Spain.

The Physical and the Social Worlds. We are reminded of reading DH Lawrence's 'The Boy in the Bush' many years ago. For the first time a clear distinction is drawn between the physical world in which we actually live and the social world in which people live only as an illusion, a simulation to which they have been assigned. The former we can contact through the senses, interpreted by experience and mental awareness; the latter is given to people by their place in a particular society at a particular time. You illustrate how people living in a purely social world can completely eliminate from their awareness the physical world in which they unknowingly exist. Instead they have to act out the roles they have been given, remorselessly, relentlessly. 

Capitalism Dominates the Social World. It exploits and exacerbates the effects of the social world by attaching to it many competitive values, reducing almost everything to commodities. We assumed initially that by travelling we would meet other travellers seeking a life within the physical world of the body, the senses, the mind and the rich life of the planet on which we find ourselves; building and using a language appropriate to our situation as highly evolved primates. We were to be and to remain disappointed; There are a few people in a small group that is an exception to the socialised norm: exceptional people. People lost in the social world are truly lost; people lost in the physical world welcome the opportunity to discover something new!

Physical vs Social. This is a simple dichotomy but making the distinction does have a considerable explanatory power. Not least, the physical world holds no values or judgements. Margaret recently came across the following verse:

            'There is pleasure in the pathless woods

            There is rapture in the lonely shore

            There is society where none intrude

            By the deep sea, and music in its roar.'

Ironically, it's from Childe Harold by Lord Byron, who as a peer and politician certainly inhabited the social world!

Writing while Travelling. We do sympathise with the slow-going of writing up the details of a long journey that was so full of experiences. Still filling in the detail of our 2017 journey from Harwich to Greece, we have just completed Sweden and Finland on our website. The Baltic Republics and Eastern Europe remain - but when the sun is shining, walks and cycling seem to take precedence. At least we are never bored!

Planning for the Baltics. Our thoughts turn to routes for 2018. Your proposal of the Baltic Republics followed by Finland (a route we have just travelled in reverse) is a good one, especially avoiding the capitals insofar as one can. Tallinn is indeed ruined by cruise ships, but east along that coast lies the wonderful Lahemaa National Park and a favourite camperstop at the Kohvikann Restaurant at Palmse.  We do agree that reindeer - in fact most animals - are preferable to many of the human inhabitants of our planet. The population density of Finland and the Far North suits us all well!

January 2018 (Greece)

A Sculptor in Greece. We just looked at Colin's website and are interested to read about his work, including the 10 years on Paros. Not least, it is nostalgic to see a quote from the former Athens News, which we really miss. We used to order it at the local newsagents when wintering in Greece - and now both paper and newsagent have folded! It was a real insight into life here.

The Venice Ferry. We haven't used the Venice ferry ourselves, though we have taken ferries to Greece from Ancona, Bari and Brindisi on many occasions. The Venice one is very popular with motorhomers from Germany and Austria, so I would advise booking early. We always find it best to book on the telephone rather than through the website, to make sure you get the deal you want.  Off-season, we usually just turn up at the port.

Kosovo. We didn't mention Kosovo, although you did. We haven't been there and no-one has made contact with us who has been there, although Margaret's nephew was once the UK ambassador in Kosovo. We know that you are advised to keep away from the northern part of the country and not try to enter or leave through Serbia. The mountainous border between Albania and Kosovo is also said to be an area to keep away from.

Balkan Insurance. The answer to your question is that you buy 3rd party insurance cover at the border as you enter each of those three countries. It is a legal necessity, but you would not want to find out whether or not you could claim on it. We made a journey from Greece into Macedonia 2 years ago when the Macedonians charged us €55 at the border for the minimum period of 15 days. They apologised and blamed the UK for not making reciprocal arrangements. Earlier we have travelled through Albania, Montenegro and Bosnia-Herzegovina and they all charged at the border, sometimes appearing to invent a cost. When we entered the Serbian part of Bosnia (Srbska) from Montenegro, a man was fetched from a nearby village to give us a piece of paper written in Cyrillic for €30 for 3 days! Or so he said. Or appeared to say.

The Euro is King. In general, carry lots of euros in cash since they are taken (gratefully) throughout the Balkans and you may find that you do not need to obtain any local currency. Montenegro uses the euro for its currency, although it is not part of the EU and therefore not in the euro zone.

Cash vs Card. On the matter of bank cards, we agree with your experience in the UK where there is now little demand for signatures! In Sweden, they often refuse cash even for the smallest amount and the card is king. In Greece, they much prefer cash and will often explain that their bank machine is out of order. What happens to the cash thereafter is best not asked. Hiring a car here recently, and needing to provide a credit card as surety for future repairs etc, it was copied with the equivalent method of brass rubbing, out in the street, on the bonnet of the car.

Uniformity. No wonder Australians get a little confused in Europe with its glorious complexity and diversity. Australia, like the USA has a similar uniformity of language, culture, currency, religion, creation myths (concerning their country) etc, etc from coast to coast.

The Greek Postmaster. Next time we visit his emporium we will send you reimbursement in the form of a cheque and you can start a new hobby of collecting Greek stamps - proper sticky ones with a picture on (and not of a right royal personage). Today's image was of Solon: Athenian statesman, lawmaker and poet (638 BC – 558 BC).

Olives. Almost a religion down here in Messinia (capital Kalamata), producing the best oil and the best eating olives in the world. Indeed, the Greek words for olive (Elia) and oil (Ladi) probably gave the country its name (Ellada). Everything stops for the olive picking in November/December (even the postmaster shuts up shop) and each village has its own oil mill, now working flat out. We were privileged to watch the olive harvest and then, last week, the oil production.

The Greek Christmas I. On Christmas day we cycled to Methoni, the little town where we were married, and sat outside the café by the Venetian Castle drinking hot chocolate with nibbles and listening to the festive music from the bar ('Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow') - in bright sunshine, wearing shorts! After cycling back through the hill village of Evangelismos we lunched on delicious cream of reindeer soup (bought in Finland - how could we?!) and Margaret's Christmas cake.

The Greek Christmas II. Festivities here are in fact very low key, which suits us well. Can't think of anywhere we'd rather be. No cards or presents - apart from gifts of oranges, mandarins, lemons and grapefruit, and olive oil from Iris and Kostas (the apartment owners) from their orchards, and a calendar from Zoe, Margaret's Dentist in Methoni. All three are involved with the local animal welfare society, caring for stray cats. We have our own black kitten to care for (Sooty) and will eventually leave him in good hands. The fruit supplies us with fresh juice every morning - and plenty over to make a year's supply of marmalade.

Wave Blessing. On Saturday (6 Jan) it's the Greek Wave Blessing ceremony, so that should make it calmer!  We aim to go to Pylos to watch the morning performance at the harbour when young men dive into the harbour's chilly waters to retrieve a cross thrown in by an Orthodox priest. Wisely, the man of God takes the precaution of attaching the cross to a long ribbon held in his tight grip. Afterwards, we will have a coffee and maybe go on Gialova if it's fine.