Back from Madeira

Well, I’m back from my two week break in Madeira, and the return trip was… Interesting to say the least. It started out when the pick up from the hotel was late. We were supposed to be picked up for the transfer to the airport at 10:30 this morning.

Ok – not a problem – we were all packed & ready to roll, having done nearly all the packing yesterday afternoon (after I’d watched the British Grand Prix from Silverstone) and had settled the outstanding hotel bill last night.

So this morning, it was just a matter of putting the last minute bits & pieces into the one case, making sure that both cases were locked & strapped, and getting the flight bags packed, and the hideous flight socks on (the less said about these, the better!)

10:30 (the allotted pick up time for Mum & myself), and a mini bus duly arrives. Only it’s not big enough for everyone who is waiting (by my estimate there were about 16 – 18 people waiting for transport to the airport), and it turns out that it was for people who were travelling with another tour company (Mum & I had booked with Thomas Cook – more on that in a later post!) So, they clamber into the mini-bus, and it goes off to the airport, leaving the remaining travellers (Mum & myself included) are standing by the front entrance to the hotel wondering what the bloody blue blazes is going on.

There was no rep around (he was at the airport - again, more about the rep later) and the time is starting to move on… Well our transfer arrived – at 10:45. Not too good when you consider that we were supposed to be at the airport for 10:50 at the latest (it’s a 2hr check in) and we still had to clear security & passport control at the airport.

The aroma of knackered clutch was heavy in the air (it was truly nauseating to be honest!) and the best (or should that be worst) was yet to come… The driver seemed to think he was Madeira’s answer to Ferrari’s Fernando Alonso – without the talent or the charisma. It didn’t get off to a good start when the driver stalled the mini bus – I suspect he was in the wrong gear to try & pull away…

Now I know that under normal circumstances, I’m not easily scared by someone’s driving, but this was truly scary – even by my standards. Every time we came to a red light, or a pedestrian crossing, it was like it was a race to see how close he could get before he hit the brakes (or whatever poor sod was in front of him – be they pedestrian or another motorist), and instead of using the handbrake like anyone else would do when attempting a hill-start with a manual gearbox, he tried (and failed) to hold the vehicle on the clutch, meaning that we rolled back frequently, and the aroma of burning clutch got worse.

The there were the gear changes themselves. Now I know that my Peugeot can be a temperamental little b’stard when it wants to be, but the way this guy was slamming the gears made me apologise to my little blue fiend when I got back to it at Birmingham! The gear changes were really notchy – almost as if the driver wasn’t depressing the clutch fully. I suspect he was, but it really didn’t feel like he was to be honest!

If I recall correctly, the speed limit on the main highway is something like 80 kmph, but I know for sure that we were doing well over that – if it was on the road, we overtook it - thank god the road is a duel carriage way!)

It was almost as if this guy had been watching the British Grand Prix yesterday, and was determined to re-create the overtaking style in the mini-bus. We got to the airport in one piece (we got there by 11:10) and I have to admit, it was one of the few times that I gave thanks for arriving at the airport. The guy was a loony – and it didn’t help with him answering his ‘phone when we were on the main highway.

Check-in was fast and painless (but that could have been due to our arrival time at the airport – we were some of the last passengers to check in!) We had 17.5kg in both cases (the weight limit was 20kg) and all I can say is ‘thank God they didn’t weight the hand baggage at Funchal!’

Simply because I estimated my flight bag was about 8 – 9 kgs (and the limit is 5kgs!) Mind you, most of that was book… I’d bought a book called Dam Busters – the race to smash the dams 1943 by James Holland at Birmingham on the outbound flight (I also bought the Rowland White book – Storm Force) and resolved to have Dam Busters as my book for the return flight.

Once through security & passport control, it was like a rugby scrum as per normal. There were at least 4 flights going out about the same time (although the Easyjet flight to Gatwick had a ½ hour delay) and the Luton Thompson flight was leaving 10 mins before ours did. Mum & I boarded the bus that took us to the aircraft, and we were directed to the rear door.

Now this wouldn't have been a problem, had we been seated at the back – we were in the middle of the damned aircraft, and to make matters worse, some silly female had some kind of mini-suitcase as her flight bag, and was making a pig’s ear out of getting it into the overhead locker. 

This  meant that she was standing in the aisle, fussing around, and preventing people from getting to their seats. When we eventually got to our seats, we’d been given the window & middle seat again, and if you tried to transport cattle the way that we were seated on the plane (it was a B757-300, with the seats set at the minimum space allowance of 26 inches between the front of one seat and the front of the seat in front of you) then the RSPCA would rightly prosecute the transport company.

The ticket (it’s one of these stupid e-ticket things) said that in-flight meals would be provided… Yes, they were, if you didn’t mind paying £6.00 for a tiny lasagne that looked revolting, and didn’t smell too appetising either! Thank god I’d had a decent breakfast before we’d left the hotel… If I’m honest, the less said about the flight, the better.

As I’d been smart, and plugged in my headphones (I was listening to the S&M album by Metallica & the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra – hence the S&M title!) I didn’t hear the wailing of some kid on the flight – Mum said it howled nearly all the flight.

We landed, and got to the gate... It was gate 54 at Birmingham. I know damned well that the couldn’t have gotten us further away from Border Security & baggage reclaim if they’d tried – at least not at a gate with an air bridge!

Once through Border Security, we headed to baggage reclaim which was surprisingly fast, and then had to run the gauntlet of more stinking duty free. Some bright spark has had the idea to put a smallish duty-free area on the route from the baggage reclaim & customs area to the arrivals area, meaning that it's yet another chance to fleece knackered passengers before they leave the airport.

When I say stinking, I mean it. The combined odour of the various perfumes that had been sprayed into the air was enough to give anyone a bad head, and it sure as hell did that to me, so I was only too glad to toddle up to the bus stop for the long stay 1 car park where I had left the little blue fiend two weeks ago. Mum & I got to the bus stop just as the bus arrived (talk about perfect timing) and then got off at the allotted stop.

Mum being her normal organised self had made a note of the bus stop number and car park row I’d parked on. So, it was just a case of getting off the bus, and getting the car loaded. Now I’ve had problems with the gearbox on my little fiend, and as I was loading the cases into the boot, I made sure that the engine was running, meaning that the little fiend was getting some heat into the engine, and also into the gearbox, with the idea being that it would stop causing the gearbox to throw it's usual hissy fit...

It seemed to work ok, and the little monster burbled it’s way home, and is now back in it’s allotted parking space.

As for me? I’m so chilled out, I’m horizontal, but that’s no thanks to the transfer today. That’s all down to the island of Madeira, and the wonderful (and very helpful) staff at the Porto Santa Maria, who made Mum & myself feel like old friends.

Ah well, guess I should call this quits – my eyeballs feel like they are on fire, and I really want to get some rest. Back tomorrow with a full report (and photos) of my holiday on the island.

Karen
Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

Midland Air Museum

The Midland Air Museum is one place that despite having known about for many moons, I have never really had the inclination to go and visit. Partly because it was damned expensive for what there was, and partly because there was usually something / somewhere else that I was more interested in visiting.


However, that has now changed, and I can quite happily say that this is one museum that is well worth visiting. It doesn’t look very imposing from the outside, I will admit, but appearances can be very deceiving.


So, when my best friend made the suggestion that we visited the museum, I thought “what the hell” and agreed to go… And I am glad that I did, because I would have missed out on this little gem of a museum.


The entrance fee for an adult is £6.00, and to be honest, having paid a damned sight more for other museums (and not enjoyed myself as much) this is really good value. It starts off with the story of the jet engine, which was developed by Sir Frank Whittle and tells of the trials that he had to endure develop his idea. 


Whittle's first experimental jet engine (WU)

Painting by Rod Lovesey



The display also had a model of the engine that really made Sir Frank Whittle famous – his W.2/700 engine:

The theory behind this engine is shown in this diagram that comes straight from the museum's website:

Then it was into the main hangar area.  I have to admit, I wasn’t too impressed, as I thought it was a tad cramped, meaning that you couldn’t get to see the exhibits in their true glory:

But there was a plus side – there were a couple of cockpits that were open – and that meant that you could not only take decent pictures, but sit inside them!  This struck me as being something quite different from the “normal” museums, where you would be luck to get close to the aircraft, let alone be allowed to set foot (or otherwise) in the cockpit…

Then it was off outside – which was where the *real* surprise lay.  I knew that the museum had a Vulcan (I’d seen it often enough poking its nose, and tail over the hedge), but what I didn’t realise was that you could go up into the cockpit. 



Avro Vulcan B.2 XL360, with a single seater Folland Gnat underneath (minus wings)

Foreground has Armstrong Whitworth Argosy engines / undercarriage



Unfortunately, I am the world’s biggest coward, and could not face going anywhere near the cockpit, so satisfied myself with taking pictures of the insignia:

As there was quite a variety of aircraft, I was quite happy walking around with my camera snapping pictures of things that caught my eye – including the Fairey Gannet T.2 (I just adore the way that the engine has two sets of propellers!)

Fairey Gannet T.2 - facing the engine

Fairey Gannet T.2 - side on.

Other things that caught my eye (and camera lens) was the nose art on the PLZ TS-11 Iskra 408:

The other bit of nose art that I fell for was on the English Electric Canberra PR.3: (I think!)

There was a real variety of aircraft, and the full list (and better images) can be found by going to the actual website, and clicking on the interactive map showing the various aircraft outlines:

The one thing that I was impressed with, was the fact that the volunteers at the museum were willing to show people the various cockpits – including the Vulcan.

Now as I have already said, I am not good when it comes to enclosed spaces, so the thanks for these next pictures from the Vulcan’s cockpit go to my best friend, who was an absolute sweetheart, and took my camera into the cockpit with him:

After I’d gotten my camera back from my friend, we then went to the huge Armstrong-Whitworth Argosy (and if I remember correctly, this is one of only seven complete examples left!)  What struck me most about this aircraft was the fact that the nose section was hinged (as is the tail section apparently) meaning that it was possible to load large / awkward cargo – a bit like the Airbus Super Guppy:

 

Armstrong Whitly Argosy nose section - it's slightly open, hence the strange appearance!)



Argosy nose section



Airbus Super Guppy



What I do remember about this aircraft was the actual cockpit.  There are no photos, as I was still somewhat shaky after climbing the ladder up to the cockpit (as well as banging my head as I got into the 1^st officer’s seat!)  But it was well worth it, as the view was spectacular, and the gentleman who was acting as the guide for the aircraft was very informative about the various exhibits.

On the whole, this was a really good day out (and the weather was ok – a bit cold, but at least it wasn’t raining, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the open cockpits (or take as many photos!)

Back when I get the chance…

Karen

What I've felt, what I've known
Sick and tired, I stand alone
Could you be there?
'Cause I'm the one who waits for you
Or are you unforgiven, too?

Another Bank Holiday, and more travelling

Well, it’s the end of anther bank holiday – this time it was a four day run, as it was the Royal Wedding on the Friday, and the traditional May Day bank holiday today.

Me being me, didn’t spend the bank holiday at home. Instead, I travelled down to see my best friend and his family, and made the usual trip to Auto Italia at Brooklands.

Now the trip on Friday started out quite well, and I was making my leisurely way down the A5, and was starting to wonder if the weather was going to improve, as it was misty, murky, and generally overcast – and didn’t improve the further south I went!

For once, I didn’t manage to get lost, and arrived at my friend’s house, in time to see the Royal Wedding. Bugger. I was planning on avoiding it, but there was no way I could politely get out of it… but in a way, it wasn’t as bad as thought it would be, as it gave me a chance to sit and relax…

My friend arrived, and joined in the commentary with not so subtle comments about the camera angles from the BBC coverage, not to mention the dust that was very apparent of the tops of the wooden decorations on the choir area… Ah – the magic of television!

The rest of the day went quietly, with jokes being told, and plans for the following day being sorted – including lunch (we were taking a cool bag to Brooklands – past experience had taught the pair of us to take food & drink with us!)

The evening, after dinner, we sat watching the documentary Mega Factories (it had been on the National Geographic channel.) This time, it was on the Jack Daniels factory. Now, as it happens, I was given a bottle of Gentleman Jack. Now I am the first one to admit that I am not a great Bourbon fan… In fact, I normally avoid the stuff like the plague – but only because I had no inclination to try it…

However, having seen the program on the Jack Daniels factory, I found myself thinking about this bottle, and decided that it best thing to do would be to take the bottle with me, and crack it open with someone I could share a laugh and a drink with…

So, me being me, cracked the bottle open and shared it with my friend, who was a real sweetie, and showed me the difference between Gentleman Jack and the more “common” (for want of a better term – no offence intended!) Old No. 7. I have to admit that Gentleman Jack is a heck of a lot smoother, sweeter and smokier tasting…

However, there was a sting in the tail for me. I had the worst night’s sleep I have had for ages – and I would swear blind that it was the JD that did me in. So, it taught me one thing – don’t drink the stuff before I go to bed!

The following morning, I was squeaking like I was on helium again. No – not a chest infection this time – it was my hay fever that had gotten to my vocal cords. Aside from giving me nightmares, the JD had helped me to forget to take my Q-var inhaler (the brown preventer), so my immune system decided to go into overdrive…

Needless to say this caused much hilarity for my friend, but I took the ribbing good naturedly, as I knew that it wasn’t meant maliciously…

Brooklands itself has really changed since the last time I was down there – and in some ways, I’m sorry to say that it is to the detriment of the Auto Italia show. The cars were quite spectacular as normal (including the Ferrari Enzo) but there were not the normal range of cars… It seemed that the Lamborghini contingent was an awful lot smaller than normal, and that the Ferrari 430 Scuderia was rather too common for my liking, and there were no Pagani Zondas or Bugattis of any flavour – let alone the Veyron.

The test hill was only run the once, but that was well worth it, as some of the cars nearly didn’t make it up (mainly the small Fiats – things like the Cinquecento) but there were a couple of cars that were rather special going up the hill – including the Lamborghini & Ferrari safety cars…

After we’d watched the cars blasting (or not blasting) their merry way up the test hill, we had a walk around some of the cars that were organised into their respective car clubs… The one that did make me smile was a green Fiat campervan with a sticker on the rear screen that read:

Scrap that refuses to die

It really made me smile, and reminded me of the sticker that I’d had on my Toyota Yaris:

Not available from Toys ‘R’ Us

We finally left Brooklands at 16:50 (ish) and once we were on the grassy area where the car was parked, I freely admit to taking my shoes off, so that I could walk barefoot. Not because my feet hurt – far from it – they were too damned hot in my shoes!

We stopped off at the Marquis of Granby pub on the way home (no idea whereabouts – that’s one of the problems with not being local area) and had a drink in the gardens – well away from the smokers.

My friend seemed to be doing his best to cheer me up, as I have to admit that I was feeling somewhat flat…

Can you help me remember how to smile?
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded?
Life's mystery seems so faded

Runaway Train – Soul Asylum

I explained what was happening (or not happening) with the cardio appointment, and I have to admit that I was really quite scared, because I thought that he would go loopy because I’d not mentioned it to him…

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway Train – Soul Asylum

Thankfully, I will admit to severely underestimating him. He was a real angel, and told me that he would be there for me, and all I had to do was pick the ‘phone up to him, and he would move heaven and earth to get to me. I don’t know what I would do without his friendship, and it’s really reassuring to know that there is someone out there who is willing to provide that sort of support to me.

Now that the world isn't ending
It's love that I'm sending to you
Isn't the love of a hero
And that's why I fear it won't do

Hero – Chad Koeger

We headed for home, but the trouble was, I was too damned tired to do the chilli justice, and freely admit to sparking out cold on the sofa (and snoring according to my friend!)

Sunday was a more relaxed day, and we went to the Aces High gallery in Wendover, in the morning. That place is becoming lethal to me, as I bought another print – this one of the Vulcan...

The afternoon was spent dribbling over some beautiful classic cars (even if I did think that a couple of the cars should have been excluded – one of them being a Jaguar XJS – the only thing that could have been called was scrap!)

Now onto today. I knew that I was heading for home, and I would be going to see my god-daughter, Amber. I also knew that Amber was less than impressed with me, because I’d been to Auto Italia, and not taken her (the kid is Tifosi – she almost bleeds scarlet and gold!). I arrived at her home, and she was standing in the front door, with a face like a major thunderstorm, and I knew that I was in real trouble with her…

Or at least I was until I burst into tears. It wasn’t intentional – far from it. it was a combination of stress over her reaction, and me being worried about my forthcoming hospital stay. Ok – I don’t know the date of it just yet, but it was (and still is) preying on my mind.

Amber was such a sweetie – she ran over to me, and flung her arms around me, and kept wiping the tears away with her handkerchief, telling me that I was going to be ok – she would thump anyone who hurt me! I mean, what can you say when your goddaughter says that to you?

I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart’s the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
Till then I walk alone!

Boulevard of Broken Dreams – Green Day

So, as I type this, I am emotionally drained, and far form ready to go into the playpen tomorrow, but I guess that I had better call this quits, so that I can try and get some sleep tonight.

Back when I get the chance.


Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

The formation with feeling

I make no apologies for posting this - as per normal it was sent to me by my American friends.

Enjoy.


Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

*********************************************************************
Look at this carefully........... It is brilliant, and another true example of British Humor!!


The British government scrapped the Harrier fleet and on their farewell formation flypast over the Houses of Parliament they gave the government a message............

Lean back a bit from your computer monitor and squint.


Seriously......................... push your chair back a couple of feet.

My hat off to the lad that was leading this bloody gaggle..................

I go on holiday, and what do I watch? An air show.

And no, I’m not joking. The first week of my holiday, I kept seeing posters for an air show by the Portuguese air force. I didn’t think I’d be able to watch it, but boy, was that ever wrong.

The Friday afternoon (the air show was on the Saturday) I was happily snoozing, when I heard this almighty racket – about 50 feet from the hotel. Needless to say, the language was less than polite, as I stumbled out onto the balcony.

Mum was already out there with the camera, and took this photograph:

Merlin Helicopter - noisy sod!

It turned out it was practising for the display the following afternoon, so both Mum and I got the cameras out to take some more photographs:

So, on the Saturday morning, Mum and I took our normal trip into Funchal, and on the way back, we saw the grandstand seating for the dignitaries. That made the pair of us snigger, as we realised that we would have the better view from the balcony of our hotel room!

The air show started at 16:00, and to be honest, when you compare it with US and UK air shows, it wasn’t really as enthralling as it could have been, but I guess I’ve been spoilt by watching the Farnborough air show over the years.

It started brightly enough, with a fly by display done by a C-130, which opened the loading bay door, and dropped out what appeared to be a couple of marine flares. Mum and I were both wondering what these were for. We soon found out.

C130

The noisy Merlin helicopter that had so rudely woke me up the previous afternoon was back – and this time carried out the full display that involved dropping a diver and then scooping him back up from the water.

Dropping the diver

Nearly down

Going up

Mind your head

Mission accomplished

Heading for home

Then it was the turn of the Orion. I didn’t manage to get any photos of this, as the miserable toe rag didn’t come close enough – even with the telephoto on my camera. But the real stars of the show, as far as I was concerned, were the Aérospatiale Alouette III. The two pilots gave a wonderful display, and provided some wonderful photographic opportunities

It was like watching aerial ballet.

Ah well, guess I should call this quits for now – I’m starting to fall asleep at my computer again!

Back tomorrow, if I get the chance.

Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most