Eagle Landing

Well its would be too easy to say where,
with clues of where the borg we have landed.
Starting at 40,000 feet and its minus 43 outside
(shirt sleeves 7 miles up cold enough to freeze
the strongest bulgarian rakia if they served it here),
it could have been over the top of the world
some great circle to save on fuel.
Hope pilots get that right, stones or kilos?
It was well into 8 hours flying before I saw the first roof!
Then about half an hour before landing it came thick
and fast lakes and some big open cast mining...
Clear skies coming in, last time I flew this we were
told by the pilot before we left London
the landing would be hands off autopilot as the fog
was so bad at destination. He was right, vis
at groundlevel, so why make the journey?
He didnt make medic on bedside manner either
....plan B, pilot!
Well today eagles eye view was a bit of a giveaway
you can almost recognise the yachts below.
Yep there's the Atessa (I admit not knowing at the time!),
and dont goggle as thats cheating.
Landing, water, islands odd ship or too.
Its Kai Tak without Hong Kong, Wellington maybe?
Thirty degree flaps and don't drop short of the runway
touch and shout..here we be, after 3 minutes shy
of ten hours those Rolls Royce Trents spun down..
what lovely engineering!
Airbus does pretty good Lego too. Like the new nylon
strips on flap boundaries to reduce friction lines.
Jobs a good'un!
Street scene? Kyoto, Atlanta, Bangkok, Rio, Capetown,
Singapore, Atlanta, Sydney, Hawaii, Dubai, Gretna Green?
Not yet...

Where the borg are we?

A
After six hours flying your eyes expand,
you are half way thorugh your third movie
and you give up, go for a walk.
Every hour after 6 you count the minutes,
like Hugh Grant in "About a boy."
Trip to the loo one unit, wait for
coffee service one unit, spill coffee another unit,
that sort of thing, disembarkation forms one more,
getting your shoes back on with the seat upright etc..

Forget water though, stripped of water before airside
then sell it back at £5 a litre, complimentary 500ml
for a ten hour flight, dehydrated at 40,000 feet
flying fish are better hydrated than we are!

We cleared customs last, we got our luggage first
no sport in destroying damaged luggage..
then hunted for a water supply.

Then the zombie march for ground transportation
was refreshingly easy. Well done pacific town!

The last 2 blocks to the hotel were a bit difficult,
the last wheel fell off the bag, and I was left to
sledge the last few kerbs, would have ben easier if
the roads were wet... finally there . Shower, snooze
and take out sushi!
Couldnt sleep, open the curtains, we are borg!
There are people in the building
opposite clutching coffee at 7am! And over there!

One Wheel On My Wagon...

Well the time arrived.. our last sunset in Budleigh for a little while.
And a very colourful display it was too. Next day off to Exeter
Stationwith almost our total allowance...wheelie luggage is the
new travel.
Well it was for the want of a nail. Turns out that the lift at Exeter
station was out of order, as a special widget had broken and
they were calling a guy out of retirement to tool-up and
machine a new one. But until the forge had poured the metal we
were out of luck... so a professional chap with a UHF radio and
a orange jacket got us lined up behind the yellow
line at the end of the platform, when he said go we raced
across the tracks..except one of the wheels got stuck.
No risk of derailment, but our journey
had only just started.. about 50 yards of wheelie into it.
Never mind one wheel standing.monocycle luggage...
train boarded next stop reading
...not via Yeovil but Taunton and then Wiltshire valleys,
so stops at Taunton havent been there since I was diverted
because Westbury was closed for lost snowploughs on the tracks
back in the big chill of nineteen seventy eight...,
wont stop at Frome neither (population 20,000) but stops
at all those little first class carriage villages (pop less than 500)
on the way to Newbury, where the tow-path falls away into
the canal villages. I venture to think the locals dig the tow paths
up and the approach roads for that matter!
Even my GPS cant find them..or even Banksy?
Dont think you can alight here without the right ticket,
indeed the grass IS greener here, even the cows have
green envy, how do they do it!?
Village envy..never its just not somerset.
Time to snaffle our boots meal deals as we press our noses
to the windows and look on at green wellie brigade cleaning
up their horse manure in their bespoke villages where the train
can stop with the wonka golden ticket.
After Newbury we spot an enclave of what appear to be
resistance postal workers. If that was the special-delivery Harley
hardtail motorbike with leather panniers they promised you,
I'd be striking too.
French posties have proper mopeds with headlights and chrome
exhaust pipes and stuff!
Next stop Reading, and this game hasnt changed in 30 years,
up the stairs, over the ramp, down the stairs, along abit and
hard right onto the little Gatwick train with no room for luggage.
The inspiration for Hogworts express no doubt.
Actually 2 seats have been removed to allow placement of
luggage in the aisle so everyone else can steeplechase
or Quidditch?
We then went along seeing lots of greenery outside
the M25 toward Guildford via deep dorking and shallow grindstead
and such fictious places. Muggle towns maybe.
Finally we got into serious commuter belt stuff..
and there we were Gatwick
just the sort of place youd spend a day of your holidays
travelling there. NOT!
After all that these heavier-than-air machines better be worth it!

EL SID Part2

Final plans required new shoes. Oscar Wilde warned of ventures
requiring new clothes, not sure whether that included footwear.
Anyway back to Sid in heavy rain, and the shoe situation was
resolved in the first shop.

BUDLEIGH FLATPACK

Well things seem very constant and measured in Budleigh.
It comes across kind of Norman Rockwell, and less Wallace and Grommit.
So it was a bit of a surprise for the town to change into autumn mode,
after the last of the good weekend weather, down to a more sombre season.
So some surprise to find the white beach huts gone.. a few roof beams
but otherwise gone. Its always sad when its a real house - summer is now over.

HAPPY HOUND

Some say there is nothing happier than a pig in muck.
And I have witnessed some mud happy pigs in
wet and dry, turnip bliss or less. But it is really
hounds that love mud, grot and general dankness,
and this hound had found his patch.
Hounds are a subset of dogs.
Some dogs value their padicures and never achieve
hound status, at least while their owners are on the lead.
Dank dog, red devon gunk and an excuse for a stick complete the picture.

El Sid and Byrons Eels

Some wanderings happened over toward Sidmouth.
Lots of people about, escalators of budding Ten Tors
victims I suspect, more like the Peaks on a rainy day.
I felt I should take a number and hit the chess timer
as we gathered at the bench gap to look down and east.
Much like the seats in the park overlooking
the Sagrada familia church in Barcelona,
where people really do
queue to take a seat for a few minutes abstract.
This trip down to Byrons bay was my first,
with a thankfully ephemeral view of Willoughby city as
part of the attraction, and to find the narrow coastal footpath
where the lemmings have barely the space to jump as Eel fodder.

Exeters Gremlins

In preparation for the big trip, several smaller forays into Exeter
were necessary. I can always blame the banks!
Soup at the cathedral was always a possibility.
A chance to see the little gremlins in our lives. In a perfect
world I think a stone mason would be a pretty good job.
You probaby need a second career when your joints go
though, and a head for heights most likely, and the
ability to quietly slake a cider after you've gently tap the arms
off your Venus de milo. So spare a thought for all the stonework
that never made it, and those knuckles that suffered in vain!
We salute you!

Otter Estuary and Bud Beach

Here are some more of the Otter Estuary
One of the few tidal run fishing areas
(almost as far as Otterton) you can fish without a permit.
And then you are still on the Jurassic beach as you
reach the Quality coastline, as far as Exmouth.