We left Windermere and headed to Glasgow via Grasmere, Rydalmere and Thirlmere, this time with Michael in tow. We'd had a very pleasant dinner the night before at one of the local pubs and had followed this up with another great breakfast at our B&B, which Michael definitely enjoyed. The weather had again turned grey, but it wasn't raining so we did get one last good look at this really wonderful part of the world.
From there is was pretty much a solid drive of a few hours before we found ourselves in Glasgow, grabbing a quick pint at the local before we picked up Tim. The barmaid at the pub was the first person we'd spoken to in Scotland, and she had such a broad accent that a translator would have been helpful. In the end we smiled a lot, laughed at jokes she made we couldn't understand before downing the pints and finding Tim.
Now the family was back together, for the first time in around ten months, which was great. Our first night was on the west coast in a village called Connel, just out of the town of Oban. The weather had continued to be a bit on the damp side, though we'd had a good view of Loch Lomond on the way. Oban was a very picturesque coastal town, but when we got there for dinner the wind was blowing hard and cold. Nonetheless we wandered around and found a great little pub for dinner before heading back to our digs.
A word on the place we stayed at. Great food, fine rooms, interesting owner. She could really cook, had a sense of humour, but somewhere along life's journey she'd picked up a little bit of Basil Fawlty. She was clearly a stickler for the rule and heaven help the poor lady who accidentally poured out too much cereal and then used her hand (which she shouldn't have of course) to put some of it back. She might as well have farted in front of the queen. The same poor lady got in trouble for asking for access to a different toilet and trying to sort our an earlier breakfast. The curious thing was the owner was quite within her rights, it's just that the way she dealt with the person was straight out of The Basil Fawlty guide to customer service.
Now to a cock-up. We knew Oban was worth a visit in its own right, but we'd also planned to catch a ferry from there to the Isle of Mull. What we hadn't done was actually book the car on the damn ferry so, long story short, we'd missed out. In truth missing the ferry really wasn't a bad thing - actually it probably worked in our favour. We really didn't have the time for much of a tour of Mull, and though the day had dawned sunny the wind was still up, which meant the boat trip would have been rough (we noticed, for example, that the boat trip to the seal colony had been cancelled due to the winds, and rough sea).
In the end we had a very pleasant morning in Oban, which really was worth the visit, before heading to Loch Ness. Along the way we dropped into a Scottish wildlife sanctuary, which turned out to be a real winner. Awesome aquarium, great views of the coast, and pine forests perfect for the red squirrels which we looked for in vain.
That night we stayed in the awesomely named village of Drumnadrochit. We had a wander through the woods, down to Loch Ness, before having another great pub meal. The rooms at the B&B were really spacious and we wound up the evening drinking whiskey and eating local cheese in our room.
For the record we saw as many Loch Ness Monsters as we had red squirrels.
Next day took us to Grantown-on-Spey, in the Cairngorm Mountains, via Inverness. Inverness is a pretty cool place, at least the old town is, and worth a good wander through, checking out local ales along the way. Grantown was a bit of a gamble as it hadn't been on our radar until the day before, but it proved a great decision. It was right in the middle of a forest and we stayed at a quirky old pub. There was plenty of woodland walking, followed, by an evening of good food, a sampling of many fine whiskeys, card playing and a heckofalot of laughter.
The staff at the hotel were wonderful and just about as quirky as the establishment itself. We really liked them both, and they clearly got on well. The barman was very friendly, but deeply focused on doing his job right. The woman who was also working the bar with him, was garrulous and friendly but not necessarily as organised as the barman. They more of less did a Laurel and Hardy routine, the highlight being when we ordered a bottle of wine. The bar women went off to find the right wine glasses. Then the barman turned up with the bottle of red, and a set of smaller white wine glasses. We were just pouring ourselves a glass when the bar woman turned up with the red wine glasses and another opened bottle of red. There we were with two bottles of red and eight wine glasses. She rolled her eyes, and we all had a good laugh. In fact, that summed up the entire mood of the night - a damn good laugh.
Next stop Edinburgh.

We left Tarporley early and that gave us plenty of time in the Lakes District on the first day. Our base was a really cool B&B in Windermere, which served awesome breakfasts.
Booking in to our room we headed straight out to Tarn Hows which was reputed to offer a very pleasant easy walk around the Tarn. The description was spot on and we caught it in its full glory in the afternoon light. It's also supposed to be good red squirrel country so we took plenty of time to look up trees - without seeing even a red whisker.
The weather is always a player when it comes to travel and for the first two weeks it was playing on our side. The next day was the first day the weather wasn't friendly (they call it mucky up here). Actually, initially it was just misty and lowering which was really an impressive way to see Grasmere and Thirlmere, but then the rain just got pretty persistent.
It was at this point that perhaps a poor decision was made and perhaps it was made by me. We were heading up Whinlatter Pass, which was really impressive, when we stopped at a sort of lodge for lunch. Apparently there were red squirrels around here, so I dragged us into the woods, optimistically predicting a break in the rain. I was wrong, by a country mile, and the damn red squirrels were far more practical than I was. They'd taken a look at the mucky weather and said to themselves 'Bugga this for a game of soldiers'. Again not a sight of the Red Devils. At least we gave the rain jackets a good testing.
We headed home via Crummock Water and Buttermere. They were again quite beautiful, but the weather was not great. We had a really enjoyable dinner that night at an Italian restaurant. We'd mostly been eating pub food, which is often really interesting over here, but it was great to have a change. Curiously, food like Chinese is much less common and often quite expensive.
On our third day in the Lakes the weather dawned clear again so we headed out to Ullswater and the Aira Force, which is actually a very picturesque waterfall - apparently one of the UK's finest. Ullswater was impressive and the Falls lived up to their name and were well worth the walk. Stunning.
The weather was so good that we headed back the long way via Whinlatter Pass and Crummock Water and Buttermere, which were just magical.
I should mention the roads in this area. There are the A roads, which are meant to be quite wide - which translates to narrow and winding. Then there are the B roads - which are meant to be a bit narrower - which translates into buttock-clenching, white-knuckled joyrides. We spent a lot of time on B roads. You basically can't pass cars on B roads. You have to find a specially widened part of the road - sort of pullover spaces - that they've added every few hundred yards. Of course they're only useful if they're handy, and then you've got the challenge of coming around blind corners sharing the road with oncoming traffic. Still not enough of a thrill. Right then. Let's throw in the not infrequent and often rather sudden appearance of a truck, tractor, or even a tourist bus and see how tight your muscles end up being in certain orifices. Oh, and sheep too. They can appear just about anywhere. 
The highlight though, came when we were driving a narrow B road and cane across a free range guinea fowl farm. The damn birds took the term free-range on face value and they were everywhere. Picture driving a narrow, one lane road, with on coming traffic, trying to dodge random birds appearing out of the roadside bushes. It's no wonder there appeared to be a few rather flat birdlike shapes on the roadside.
Oh, and I do have to divert back to a pet topic - how they come up with certain town names, without pondering whether or not it was such a wise choice. Well, I think we found the one to take the cake. How would you feel about living in Cockermouth? Honestly? Cockermouth? Did they not think about having a vote on this at some point? Imagine having to tell people you came from Cockermouth. To be honest, we didn't actually visit the place, which was a bit of relief. Really didn't know what I might have been getting myself into.
Later that day we picked Michael up from the train station and got ready to launch into Scotland, where we would pick up our other son, Tim.

We arrived at Janice and Pete's in Eaton, Tarporley for a three night rest and they treated us royally the whole time (royally as in very generously, not as in chopping off our heads - just thought I'd clear that up). Their two children, Bethan and Sam, were there also and our son, Michael joined us for the weekend. Awesome.
We dined on mince and slices of quince, which we ate with a runcible spoon - well not really, but the food was brilliant - from the Sunday morning fry-up to the roast pork dinner and even the meal out at the Pheasant Inn (oh and yes we have seen pheasants, and seals and red and grey squirrels - but no badgers) we ate like a king, queen and prince.
We also went out a fair bit. Janice took us to Chester on the Saturday, where we were suitably impressed by the architecture. The cathedral was brilliant as was walking the walls of old Chester. Actually, the whole inner city was just a really cool place right out of the English past.
Then on Sunday, thanks to a tip from our good friend Pete Ryan, we returned to Wales for one last treat - a visit to Llangollen where we climbed up to Dinas Bran. This is reputed to be one of the best views in Britain - and hang me for a badger rustler if it wasn't. Stunning day, and stunning 360 views, all from the ruins of an old castle. It was a fair haul up there but we survived to tell the tale and earned the preemptive pint we'd had before we started.
Have I mentioned British beer? Well you know how it's supposed to be warm and pretty much flat - that's true. But what they don't tell you  (unless of course they're British) is that it tastes soooo much better than our beer. Reckon I'll have to work these pints off, and not sure how I'll take to our Aussie beer again.
We also went to the Llangollen aqueduct - which is active - and walked across a river at a damn great height. What was even weirder was that a canal boat went passed us while we were up there and I even saw fish swimming by - at least 100 feet in the air - talk about flying fish. If only they knew.
Another highlight was travelling in Peter's Rolls Royce - what a totally cool, outrageous thing to do. Smooth as silk, the genuine greased lightning and total comfort. Reminded me of a joke from teenage school days, that went along the lines of 'What's the difference between a [nearby school of your choice] girl and a Rolls Royce? Answer - Not everyone's been inside a Rolls Royce. Now before you cry out in horror at the sexist nature of this, which it was, it's time for a little honesty. The truth is that all that joke reflected was wishful thinking that would remain unfulfilled from a generation of boys who didn't know anything about [nearby school of your choice] girls and certainly wouldn't know how to handle one even if they did.
Anyway, we had a brilliant three days and Peter and Janice were truly great hosts.
Monday morning we said our farewells and headed off to the Lakes District.

We left Bath and headed deep into south west Wales. On advice from various sources we aimed first for a place on the Gower Peninsular called Mumbles - yet another fine example of weird-arse town names. Lovely little town - touristy but charming. Then we headed around the peninsular taking in Southgate which the locals claim have the second best cliff view in the UK. Not sure exactly how they know this but, to be fair, it was pretty awesome.
We also ate our fill of blackberries. At this time of year you could possibly survive just on blackberries eaten from roadside bushes but, based on some of the droppings of birds that appear to have taken this option it may play merry havoc with the digestive system.
Our goal was Tenby but along the way we saw amazing countryside, including one area where the road went through a commons area. We found ourselves sharing the space with sheep, cattle and roaming mobs of horses. Quite a strange experience - especially when standing at a lookout, eating lunch, surrounded by horses.
Tenby itself is spectacular - old walled town - great views, perfect weather to see it in - great pubs. Can't believe how much ale I've drunk over here. Loving the stuff. Tenby is an absolute must visit in this part of Wales. Accommodation was Ok, but the room small, and the landlady, garrulous to the point of madness.
Next morning we headed to St David's - which took us about as far west as we were going in the UK. Incredible old cathedral in the city (which is only a city by a historical technicality and is the smallest city in the UK).
Then, on advice from the talkative landlady, we detoured to New Quay, which she told us was Wales's equivalent of the Gold Coast - it was a pretty cool place, but the comparison to the Gold Coast was a tad optimistic. But it was very warm, hot even, and we saw something we simply weren't expecting to spot in the UK - not badgers, not hedgehogs - but something rarer - people wearing bikinis and budgie smugglers!
Then onwards and upwards to Betws-y-Coed, via Harlech Castle. Just in case you weren't aware of it the Welsh weren't even in the room when they were giving out the vowels. Which is Ok, because they've claimed a few consonants to do the job. Made a dog's breakfast of the pronunciations, of course, but you try and get Betws-y-Coed right the first time.
Anyway, Betws, was really beautiful and we stayed at a great B&B.
As charming as Betws was, the drive the next day would be even more stunning. We started with the rather cheekily named Swallow Falls and wound our way up the mountains to the tallest peak in Wales. The day started quite misty which gave the landscape an eerie feel and then as we reached the top of the pass the clouds and mist began to peel back and this stark, rocky, mountainous countryside that climbed sheer up from the side of the road unfolded around us - bathed in sunlight. It was such a stunning sight that we drove down the pass and then drove back up and down again.
We reached Llanberis at the foot of Mt Snowdon and decided against catching the train up it (there was a real crowd and we probably didn't have the time) and on a whim took a side road. By sheer chance this took us to a wonderful old Welsh tea room, complete with fascinating owner, amazing furniture (e.g. A very old family bible in Welsh - as if that would make understanding religion any easier for the English speaking punter), great coffee and cakes, really cool artworks and even a generous helpful guest (who actually made the coffee). A trip highlight.
Then off to Caernarfon Castle - one of the finest castles in the UK  - and it was. Clambered around battlements for a while and then headed westwards out of Wales to stay with some friends the English village of Eaton. Wales had proved to be awesome, and it would deal one more great card in two days time.

By the time we got from Cardiff airport to the hotel it was quite late so we didn't get to appreciate it until the next morning, and appreciate it we did. The city centre has real charm and I even purchased a grey bowler hat.

I should mention a curious fact about bathroom showers in the UK - no two have ever had the same tap arrangement. This may not sound much, but honestly they can be totally different and it regularly took some nipple-stiffening moments before the mechanics could be figured out. The low point of the journey so far came in Cardiff when I found myself googling up instructions. Will we ever find two the same? Only time will tell.

From Cardiff we headed out for two nights in Bath. This would prove to be one of the highlights of the trip so far. Bath has to be one of the most amazing cities in the world for architecture and character - and we saw all this in weather so balmy we were regularly hot. We did bus tours, we wandered around, we visited the baths (far more interesting than I expected to honest) and were gobsmacked by the cathedral. Oh, and we drank plenty of pints.

Not only is Bath brilliant, it's not far from Stonehenge and Salisbury and both are worth a visit, so we did just that. Stonehenge has an awe and aura of such a different time, and Salisbury cathedral has to be one of the greatest churches in the world. Words fall short - awesome will have to do. And Salisbury itself is a really amazing city - sort of like Bath, but sort of not at all, if that makes any sense.

To top it all off we've stayed at this charming old village pub in a charming old village called Hinton Charterhouse. The Rose and Crown - http://roseandcrown.butcombe.com - brilliant. 

One thing you really notice about England is the strangely disturbing names they give to their towns and villages. When we were in London our tube line went to Cockfosters ... Made me smile every time they announced it. We'll probably visit Upper Slaughter in the Cotswolds, and we're currently staying near Limpley Stoke - and yes there is a Lower and an Upper Limpley Stoke - the latter sounds distinctly painful. I'm expecting that on one of our trips we'll be driving along and find ourselves entering somewhere called Upper Bottom, Nipplestoke or Fondler's Knob.

Oh, and one last feature of driving around rural England ... If you're not in a narrow winding lane stuck behind a tractor or truck then you're not really in England - you're probably at home, still asleep dreaming about wonderfully empty country lanes.

Tomorrow back into Wales, where the surname Jones isn't as rare as it is in Australia.

On advice from our b&b host we left Doolin and headed to Galway via an area called the Burren. Just when you think you've probably seen enough stunning coastline Ireland dishes up something totally different. The Burren is this incredibly rocky, primitive landscape that, in its own stark way, rivals the Ring of Kerry. Well worth a visit.

From there we decided to go to Galway. We had the option of going to the town centre or taking in a bog. The later may sound rather unpleasant and lavatorial but it was supposed to be interesting. Indecisiveness would lead us a merry dance, as would the the Irish street signs which one suspects may have been designed by a demented leprechaun with a nasty sense of humour who was currently on a bender. So, what did we do? Drove essentially all the way into Galway and then, for want of an obvious parking spot, and because I rather liked the thought of the bog, drove all the way out again - only to discover that the road to the bog either didn't exist at all, or the dang leprechaun was changing the signs again. Honestly, it didn't seem possible to head in the direction we wanted. So, what did we do? Drove all the way back into Galway, of course, and found a parking spot easily. We could now add some rather less salubrious streets of Galway to those we had seen in Cork - and get to Galway Central only an hour later.

For the record, the old town of Galway is really cool and we had a very chilled couple of hours there before we drove over to Dublin. That night we hooked up with both boys and then wandered back to our hotel in the sticks (the only one that had vacancies in all of Dublin that we could afford - it turns out that there was a major comedy event on this weekend which had led to the shortage of rooms).

The next morning we headed down into Dublin City and did the touristy stuff - Temple Bar, Trinity College where the a Book of Kells is, and the Guinness factory. Following that we spent the late afternoon and evening in a really charming seaside town near Dublin, called Howth. We even saw more seals. Today we headed further up the coast to another seaside town called Skerries, where we had a relaxed breakfast before visiting the local castle (which really was more like a manor) and wandered around the huge grounds admiring the awesome views.

Then, off to the airport (gotta learn to cope with airports if you ever want to travel) where first Tim, then Michael flew out before we hopped our flight to a Cardiff, and a new country - Wales.

The next 24 hrs would teach us a few lessons. First of all, and we'd really been learning this one from our first day in Ireland, you need to have continual access to the web. We'd opted not to get an Irish SIM card and this was really silly in retrospect. If we'd had one from Day One many of our problems would simply not have been.

Our night in Glenbeigh would dish out another fine lesson - don't leave booking travel or accommodation to the last minute in major cities, especially on weekends. We were to meet the boys in Dublin on Friday night and had agreed to fly them over, but what with one thing or another had left things late. What does that mean? Expensive flights and buggerall accommodation. In the end Kate found something through Airbnb, we booked it in relief and sat back, satisfied .... Only to receive a message 10 minutes later from the property owner that the rooms weren't available. Now there's a real sting here with airbnb - they take your money and a booking fee in advance. So now we had no accommodation, we were considerably out of pocket, we we had to go through some sort of resolution process with airbnb, the property owner was refusing to answer anymore emails and it was 11 pm at night. This proved to be an excellent cocktail for the nerves.

Eventually, by around midnight, we had tracked down another place - not exactly charming, not exactly cheap, not exactly in a convenient location, but better than trying to sleep four adults in a car or on a park bench. We hit the sack, still out of pocket with airbnb.

The next morning we did our best to smile about it, through somewhat gritted teeth, packed up and headed towards Doolin and the Cliffs of Moher.

The lack of sleep and the frustrations of the night before seemed to colour the day. The countryside didn't have quite the same charm and now getting lost was becoming more of a frustration than a joke. Another lesson we learned also cropped up - check things out before you head off, especially if you don't have internet access. We missed the car ferry at Tarbert by five minutes and had to wait an hour. This delay would set us up beautifully for our next major frustration.

We had reached a little town when we noticed signs about some event called Hell of the West ... Little did we realise how accurate that name would be. As we left the town we discovered we were caught up in the middle of a cycle race, and there was nothing we could do about it. The roads were narrow, there were no side roads, and we couldn't overtake (we did try that once but got pushed off the road by a support vehicle). This meant we got to travel for an interminable period at cycling speed. At one point we did take one side road and even got ahead of the pack - there was this wonderful moment of freedom and joy BUT the police had blocked off the entry back onto the road until the cycle group passed - even though the damn group didn't get to the intersection for a good five minutes. So, we found ourselves back exactly where we had been. Oh, did we laugh about that. (NOTE: this particular cycling event turned out to be called Ras na mBan but Hell of the West was more appropriate).

I should point out that there are plenty of hills around this area of Ireland, so the going had wonderfully slow periods. So slow that when a tractor with a huge bail of hay cut in in front of us, and began to chug along (eliciting some bitter laughter and the occasional expletive) it really didn't even slow us down a second.

Thank God for the final lesson of the day .... Always hang in there when you're travelling. We arrived, more than a little cheesed off, at the Cliffs of Moher -and they were as spectacular as we'd been told. Of course it helped that the weather was perfect. And then things just spiralled upwards (such a pleasant change from the downwards spiralling) from there. Our b&b was great, the host really affable and we even snuck onto an evening cruise below the cliffs, with the locals telling us we had lucked out on perfect conditions for it - full sunlight and a dinner plate flat ocean. To round off the day we had pints of cider at the local whilst listening to an Irish band. Doesn't get much better.

What a Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde kind of day. Tomorrow Dublin and seeing the boys.

.So Many Rings

Just to get things straight - this part of Ireland is so beautiful that no words can adequately capture it so I'm going to start using abbreviations - outrageously beautiful (OB), just plain stunning (JPS) - though mostly we'd just say things like "Oh, come on now" when we'd turn a corner and see something even more beautiful than the best view we'd ever seen just at the last corner.

We left Blarney (going via the woollen mills - I think there is more wool in Ireland than can possibly be found on all the sheep in the world -bizarre but true) and took the back roads to a place called Kenmare. The advice on the route came from our very friendly hotel manager. To be honest, the advice turned out to be more than a little confusing, made all the more surprising that she gave us info from Google and Google itself seemed to confused. You know you're in for a driving challenge when Google throws it's hands up in despair. Things weren't helped by the odometer in the car being in miles, even though the speedo was in ism, as were all the signs. Makes for some interesting calculations. But that was all right because the one thing we have learned is that the roads do their own thing over here. And don't expect any help from road signs. It's generally best to just feel comfortably lost, stop worrying and just take in the scenery - oh, and do explore side roads.

One of the highlights - a real moment of OB - came when we took a side road on a whim and found ourselves at Gougane Barra. Indescribably beautiful. Ancient church on magic lake - honestly one of the most beautiful sites I've ever seen - google it. Photos don't even come close. Oh, and the toilet there won the best toilet award in Ireland in 2002. It was pretty impressive. Gotta love the Irish.

From there we wove down to Bantry, where we got our first taste of this amazing stretch of coastline. OB and JPS. Then we headed up to the b&b we'd booked at Kenmare. If you're ever in this part of the world Kenmare is a must - stay overnight if you can. Main Street is charming. Also saw our first seal there. We also took an evening trip down the Ring of Beara. 

Down this part of the world everything is in Rings, which basically just means driving around in a big scenic circle. After overnighting in Kenmare we took the Ring of Kerry, which has to be one of the most beautiful drives on the planet. The constantly amazing views made all the more impressive because they kept changing. Also found our first international geocache!

We attached to the Ring of Kerry a side trip to the Skellig Ring - which, despite sounding like something out of The Lord of the Rings, is actually another beautiful stretch of road, which took in Valentia Island, amazing cliff views, dinosaur footprints and walking around a derelict castle on a beach.

We then worked our way up to Glenbeigh for the night, only getting lost a few times, thanks to Google totally indicating the wrong location.

I do have to tell you about driving the Ring of Kerry - because this is part of the experience. The roads are ludicrously narrow and winding. Honestly, you can't believe how challenging it can be. To make it even more interesting throw in oncoming tractors and buses. Still want more to sharpen the driving experience. Imagine the roads are so narrow that if you meet a car coming the other way you have to back up to find a point where you can pass. Still no problem? Ok so now imagine that people can park just about anywhere and there's every chance you'll meet a pedestrian sharing the road because not only are there no footpaths - there's no damn side to the road at all - usually stone wall fences or holes cut through bushes (this is what the road often feels like - tunnels through trees). The hairiest example we saw of pedestrian/vehicle sharing was a woman pushing a stroller down a narrow road towards an oncoming tourist bus, whilst on our side there was a parked car and traffic trying to get around it. The craziest thing is, it all seems to manage to just not-quite end up in a multi-car pileup with civilian casualties.

We had a very pleasant evening eating tapas as a converted church and then taking in a geocache at the Torc Waterfall near Killarney. We got home and began to look into accommodation in Dublin ... And that was when the wheels fell off ... And they just kept on falling.

London, Cork craziness, Blarney and more

The second day in London shaped up to be even more beautiful than the first, which suited our plans perfectly. We met up with Michael again, Matt, our nephew, Eryn, Matt's partner and Briony, Eryn's friend, for breakfast, followed by a walk through Kensington Gardens. The weather was so good it was hot. We saw our first grey squirrels along the way, along with white swans, Canada geese and a rich assortment of other water birds. We also came across Queen Victoria's tribute to her partner, Prince Albert.

Now the average punter, if they wanted to show their affection, might give some nice jewellery, or maybe a tie, but Vicky opted for something a little grandeur - a huge monument, complete with guilt leaf statue of Albert, surrounded by other statues of gambolling wildlife. Not bad for somebody, whose only claim to fame seemed to be getting Victoria abundantly pregnant - though maybe that is a good reason for a statue.

Kate very much wanted to see Peter Pan so we walked a full circuit and with the help of some modern technology (Matt finally used used his phone to map our way to the statue) we  got to have our photo taken with the legendary boy. 

We then wandered off for lunch, consuming the obligatory pint. This, combined with the walk and the warmth knocked our socks clean off and we all wandered off our separate ways in search of nana naps. After we'd recuperated we spent a lovely evening, in the balmy twilight, wandering around Covent Gardens, bellies refilled, this time with paella and sangria.

Day 3 saw us flying to Cork. The trip was short and uneventful, but I should add that I have never known a flight crew to laugh and chat more. Seems the Irish do like a good time. Amusingly, the hostess thanked us for flying with them, on behalf of all the Cork-based staff. Hmm ... Cork-based, if that's like carbon-based life forms, that must mean they were made out of cork. No wonder they were light-hearted.

The day was a stunner so we drove straight down to a highly recommended sea side village -Kinsale - and it totally lived up to the hype! Quaint old streets, wonderful shops and eateries, great views of the sea. A must-see in this part of the world.

We then headed on to Blarney Castle - or at least that was the plan. The problem was that we didn't have the SIM card we needed and the map we had was very basic -so basic that it was a bit like using a globe of the world to navigate through Sydney. This may not have been the end of the world, except that we did have to get passed Cork. Things really went pear-shaped when we opted to take a short cut, though to be fair, I suspect the wheels had already fallen off earlier. We got to see backstreets that few tourists bother to visit, which is understandably because they were pretty darn ugly. At first we laughed a lot, then not so much, followed by periods of tense silence until, after doing a total circuit of one more unpleasant part of Cork, we reached the f-bomb stage. These episodes are always good for a laugh, but never at the time, unless you want to get a good wallop from you partner.

Anyway, we did break free, and got to Blarney Castle, which was remarkably beautiful, made all the more so by perfect weather. We then booked into the Blarney Castle Hotel, which was a total hoot. The staff were wonderful, starting with the receptionist Connie, who even played a trick on me, by sneaking Kate on a shortcut (unlike the Cork shortcut this one actually worked) so that they got to the car before me. Not only had she tricked me, she'd made Kate an accomplice, and she'd only known us for about 3 minutes. She'd done all this just for a laugh.

I honestly love the Irish people. They are polite, fun-loving and seem to have a healthy dose of irreverence. Oh, speaking of which, I kissed the Blarney Stone, which probably means i'll be even more loquacious. You have been warned. And Kate made it all the way up the narrow, high winding staircase, which was pretty amazing considering she did this whilst simultaneously clenching every single orifice tighter than a duck's bottom.

Sydney to London

Yes, we flew Malaysia Airlines, and yes, that contributed to the pre-flight tension in its own magical way. As did all those people who expressed horror or deep sympathy when we told them of this fact. Special thanks to them.  In the end we found ourselves turning to fairly tasteless humour to ease this tension. We found ourselves telling people we'd brought the booking upgrade where we didn't get shot at by rebel forces. Told you it was tasteless but it helped.

What certainly didn't help was our online check-in experience. We were staying at Michelle's place the night before the flight and we decided to check-in online. We got out the mobile phone and the tablet but we got a rude shock. The online booking system told us that no flight existed the next day to book in on. Now, just a day or do earlier the Malaysian government had to financially bail out Malaysian Airlines so it was quite feasible that they'd cancelled flights. Here we were at 11pm facing the prospect of having tickets on a flight that didn't exist. Boy did we chuckle about that. Michelle decided she'd ring the help line and with persistence got through. It turns out, amusingly, that if you're using smart devices you have yo use their special app and can only making one booking per device. It would have made the booking experience a little less bowel-loosening if they'd had a simple message saying this as opposed to denying your flight existed.

Only two other observations on the flight over. First, travelling with a small child is probably hell - getting to share that experience is not much better. Especially when there seemed to be 4 or 5 in our section of the plane - all happy to cry their damp bums off. One in particular must have gone to the Nursery of Demonic Possession and passed with honours in aggravating crying. Try that for 14 hours and see how hard it is not to give in to inappropriate idle thoughts in relation to child survival.

And the other observation is more of a question - if it's not right to allow smoking on planes (fair enough) how is it right to allow people with malodorous flatulence to get away with it. Surely, at least they should wear some kind of warning badge.

Anyway, we landed safe and sound - and the real adventure began.

It was bright and early and we were in London meeting our son, Michael, by 7 am that morning. Needless to say it was fantastic. We were booked in a hotel close to the city centre and after we dropped our bags off we began a long and wonderful day. We breakfasted at the Tower of London, walked up to St Paul's, caught a bus to Trafalgar Square, checked out Westminster Abbey, walked down to Big Ben and The a Houses of Parliament and finally staggered home some hours later. Then it was out for some pints at the local where we met up with our other son, Tim, and nephews Tom and a Jake and Michael's friend, Becky. Then off for dinner on the South Bank. A huge day all round - and the location of our hotel was just perfect. Right in the heart, surrounded by amazing old buildings. Who says you need to relax on holidays? (Kate seems to think we do - weird hey?)