Fresh air for nothing

We renewed our resident's parking permit last weekend. Since August last year the cost of a permit has been based on our car’s estimated level of CO2 emissions. This is simplier to administer than you migh think. The first time you register a car in the UK it’s given a grams of CO2 per kilometer (g/km) rating. The council uses this universal rating to calculate your permit cost. Low emission vehicles pay less, higher emission vehicles pay more.

Our SAAB currently sits in the second highest of four tariff bands. As a result, our parking permit costs 50% more than that of a car in the lowest band. It's effectively a carbon tax on car owners residing in the council district. This year we paid £105. Ouch!

Emissons-based charging seems to be all the rage in London. The Greater London Authority recently introduced emission-based charges for large diesel vehicles using its roads. Heavy diesel-engined vehicles driven within the city’s Low Emission Zone (LEZ) must now meet specific emissions standards. Those that do not are required to pay for each day they drive within the zone. Those that do can drive in the zone for free. Who says fresh air costs nothing?

The Bucket Brigade

It's here! The season's worst storm has arrived. At 6:00am this morning we were woken by the sound of roof tiles being dislodged. Shortly afterwards water began pouring through the ceiling into our bedroom. As I type, we have four buckets and a large tub collecting water at a furious pace on the floor. It's deja vu for Swiss Cottage as our roof leaked in the same exact spot last winter.

The latest EUMETSAT image shows the storm at 6:00am well and truly centred over London. As I type this post, the wind is still howling and rain is lashing the windows. In fact I've just heard a tile fall from the roof and smash onto our front steps! I'm really looking forward to my office commute!

The waiting game

The BBC has published satellite photos of tomorrow's approaching storm. This evening severe flood warnings have been issued for the entire Devon and Cornwall coast. Winds will gust up to 81 mph (130km/h) along the English Channel. Here in London we've been told to expect storm guts of up to 56mph by dawn, and again tomorrow evening. I doubt we'll have blossoms left on the trees by Tuesday.

Winter makes its final stand

It would appear that I've spoken too soon. This winter's worst storm is predicted to hit us on Monday morning. We've been told to expect winds gusting up to 70mph. You wouldn't believe it looking at the sky this evening. All we can see is clear blue sky marred by the occasional jet contrail.

It seems that this sort of extreme weather is entirely normal for this time of year. On March 5 1947, the country experienced the worst blizzard of the 20th century. By the time it was over, powerful winds had piled snowdrifts up to 9 metres high.

While we're being battered on the ground, trans-Atlantic flights returning to London will experience record crossing speeds. The jetstream is expected to approach 240mph (385 km/h), reducing scheduled flight times by almost an hour. Of course, landing safely is an entirely different matter. The news this week was filled with images of a plane attempting to land in high winds at Hamburg. The video is unbelievably frightening.

Death of a server

On Monday night our new home office network server died. Garry couldn't believe it. A brand new machine failed four weeks after he'd set it up. Fortunately it was under warranty, including onsite repair in the first year. Garry duly arranged for a technician to visit, while I made plans to work from home for the day. Queue lights and let the drama begin.

At 4:30pm this afternoon, a technician arrives at our door. "Hello! I'm here to repair your computer. Has the replacement part arrived?" The part had not arrived. Earlier today Garry had called the repair depot to check that everything was in order. "Oh yes. A replacement part is being flown in from the Netherlands and will arrive at your home by 17:00. No. The technician won't bring it with him. He will be arriving separately from another location. Don't worry. We do this sort of thing all the time."

Needless to say, after checking the dead server and asking me technical questions that only Garry could answer, the technician decided to call the office and track down the missing courier. "Oh? The part won't reach you until 7:00pm, not 17:00." He offered to come back tomorrow. He was very civil about it all but I certainly couldn't schedule another day out of the office.

After some debate the technician agreed to camp out at our house until the courier arrived. He asked if he could watch a DVD. Entertaining my unexpected guest seemed the simplest solution so I downed tools to set him up with our nest of remote controls and a chilled glass of water. To add to the confusion, our cleaner showed up and began furiously mopping the floor around us.

Naturally, all of this drama unfolded as I was trying to simultaneously conduct a business call with a colleague in the USA, a call I'd delayed earlier when the technician first arrived. At some point between greeting the cleaner, responding to technical questions with a blank stare and setting up our DVD player I accidentally hung up on my business call. The afternoon was rapidly descending into a farce.

Our well travelled replacement part finally arrived shortly after 6:30pm. By 7:00pm our server was up and running once again. However, the technician had just one more request. "Could a courier come by tomorrow to collect the broken part as it has to be returned under warranty?" I was dumbfounded. At what point did the message, "I cannot work from home tomorrow," fail to sink in? Surely being asked to watch a DVD for an hour had made this clear?

Garry and I continue to be astonished by the number of company's in the UK that only schedule home visits and deliveries during working hours. Even worse, none will guarantee a visit time and few will indicate if they'll visit in the morning or the afternoon. You're simply forced to take the entire day off and hope for the best.

How on earth most people cope is beyond me. Garry and I are fortunate that I have a job where I can generally work from home. In Sydney most organisations offer weekend delivery, or home visits early morning or mid-evening.

This evening we are back online. Our numerous personal and business are intact. What a day!

Snow? We'll have to fly in for it

Spring is definitely on its way. The trees outside Swiss Cottage station have burst into blossom. It would seem we've experienced our first London winter without snow - unlike the last two years. February was officially the UK's sunniest since records began in 1929, while the mean temperature was 1.5 °C to 2.5 °C above average. Our Easter vacation in Iceland will likely be our last snow experience this season.

A trip to Iceland and weekend in Gibraltar are the only overseas excursions scheduled this month. This is the first month in more than two years I'm not overseas for business. It's a sign of my role change as I finish final duties as Regional Director. However, the lull in business travel is only temporary. I will be on the road for three weeks in April; visiting Malaysia, India and Australia. I'm then back in the USA in May, visiting both coasts. Garry and I also have a long weekend planned in Helsinki in early-May.

June looks quiet! We have friends from Australia visiting towards the end of the month. We're hoping to spend time touring a few European destinations with them in July. Berlin is one option. I've been there at least three times, while Garry has yet to see it. Before you know it, August will be here and it will be time for our annual pilgrimage Down Under.

Shaking and moving

I arrived back from Boston yesterday morning in record time. An unseasonally strong jet-stream whisked my plane across the Atlantic in less than 5 hours, 15 minutes. At one point the inflight route map reported a tail wind of 223 km/h (138mph), while our relative ground speed topped a staggering 1102km/h. Another personal speed record.

Of course the winds play havoc with flight schedules when travelling in the opposite direction. The flight home was half an hour late departing. Apparently the opposing jetstream had dramatically extended the plane's earlier flight time from Heathrow to Boston.

As you can imagine, blustery winds have been the order of the day this weekend. I'm beginning to suspect a seasonal pattern as we experienced weeks of gales around the same period last year. However, Garry's big news story this week was London's earthquake. On Wednesday a 5.2 magnitude quake struck the city about 1:00am. Garry was preparing for bed. He simply thought that wind was shaking the house more violently than usual. This was his first earthquake.

I can recall two earthquakes over the years. The first took place when I was about eight years old. I recall a loud rumbling sound followed by the entire house shaking wildly. Within seconds, my parents had raced down the hall, plucked me from my bed and had us all standing under a door frame. The second strong quake I recall happened while I was in Tokyo. It caused my hotel room to sway noticably. A rather unnerving experience.

Big Apple update

I'm back in New York for work again. The Atlantic never seems to get any smaller. However, BA has finally begun upgrading its inflight entertainment system. I can now watch movies and TV on-demand which generally means I'll find something to watch that genuinely interests me. Small things like this help the flight pass swiftly.

When I arrived in New York I was surprised to see a blanket of snow on the ground and regular piles of compacted snow in every gutter. Apparently 20 cms of snow fell in the city last Thursday and Friday - the heaviest fall so far this winter. More than 1,100 flights were also cancelled. Incredibly, only four days earlier people were out jogging in 18°C weather.

I read today that it costs New York about cost $1 million an inch to clear the snow each time it falls. The Met Office is now predicting another light fall tomorrow evening. I hope it happens. I'd love to see New York in the snow.

Six thousands visitors

In March the visitor counter on this blog hits the two year mark. Today it passed another milestone, recording 6000 visitors. For the last 12 months I've been monitoring site traffic using Icerocket, a free online tool. It's been fascinating to watch the average visitor count grow and stabilise over the last six months. The site now averages more than 50 unique visitors a week, or more than 200 a month. The best week saw in the site receive 96 hits.

As our third year starts to fold I hope you're still enjoying our Swiss Cottage adventures. There's plenty more to come as we finalise holidays in Iceland, Gibraltar and Helsinki. Thanks for reading. Life is good.

A spring in our step

Winter is clearly on the way out. The first daffodils are blooming in our front yard, while several trees in our back yard burst into blossom this week. This morning I noticed three plump, colourful native wood pigeons in the back yard gorging themselves on swelling blossom buds. We see a lot of these birds in our yard. Not surprisingly, a survey in 2005 found wood pigeons were the UK's most commonly sighted bird.

It's been a remarkably mild winter so far with only a couple of cold weeks in late-January. As of January 20 the mean UK winter temperature had been 0.6 °C above the 1971-2000 average. Forecasters expect the next few months to remain mild. We'll know more when official Spring weather predictions are released on February 26.

Rainfall was also above average, standing at 122% of the same comparison period. However, this appears to be increasingly normal. Winter rainfall since the turn of the century is up by around 30% over the previous 80 years. Grey skies remain as prevalent as ever.

Men at Work

Our local Tesco Express store is located on England’s Lane. Until the 19th Century the only buildings in the area were located on this road - two simple farm cottages. They're still intact today and can be found just across the road from Tesco. These cottages stand in stark contrast to five modern tower blocks nearby. Collectively known as Charlots estate, they were built over five years (1965 to 1970) on land lain derelict since the end of the Second World War.

Each tower was named after a village near the town of Eton; Blashford, Dorney, Bray, Burnham, and Taplow. They contain 711 homes, of which about 20 per cent are owned by leaseholders. The remainder are public housing administered by the local council. The tallest tower is 23 storeys high, offering commanding views across London. They’re a prominent local feature; so much so that I use them as landmarks to locate our street, often on flights passing over central London.


Shortly after we arrived at Swiss Cottage, the council started refurbishing the towers. Every tower is being reclad and every flat refurbished. It’s a huge undertaking with each building progressively wrapped in scaffolding, while temporary construction lifts and plaforms are installed on the exterior. The entire project is part of a staggering £65 million, 15-year maintenance contract, largely funded by the central Government.

I learnt today that one tower on our street has 141 carparking spaces - almost one per unit. However, this number will fall to 83 spaces after refurbishment as only 38 were in active use when the council approved redevelopment. This isn’t surprising. The tube makes it so easy to get around London that many people never bother to own a car. We rarely use our car in the city. We've clocked up barely 5000 miles in it over the last two years. Garry’s parents were responsible for much of this mileage when they used the car to tour much of Britain last year.


Last October, Blashford was the first tower to complete its make-over. As a result, work on the towers closest to us is now well underway. I’m fascinated by the progress. Every morning on my way to the tube station, I’m mesmerized by workers erecting scaffolding, or riding work platforms up the side of the building. I’ll be watching for a while. Work on the last tower isn’t scheduled to be completed until January 2010.

This isn’t the only major construction project undeway. At the end of our street, opposite the new Fitness Centre, hoarding has gone up around a former retail complex. The council has approved a £7.5 million development of 76 residential units, including 25 affordable homes, and retail outlets on the ground floor. We’re living in a construction zone!

Snow and Ice

I've just returned from a wonderful weekend in Kitzbuhel with my brother and his family. We spent a superb day outdoors on Saturday; ice-skating, Bavarian ice curling (Eisstocksport) and hiking in the snow. As you can see, the weather was perfect. Our day started with a leisurely walk across the frozen surface of the Schwarzee (Black Lake). I last recall walking on a frozen lake in 1984.


An oval track has been cleared on the surface making an ideal walking track and ice skating surface. Karin and the girls took off for a couple of circuits while Hamish and I made our way to a cafe on the far shore. Long, straight curling lanes were carved into the lake's surface outside the cafe. We hired a set of traditional Bavarian curling 'ice sticks' and spent several hours tossing them down the ice with great abandon. Unlike regular curling stones, Bavarian curling ice-sticks are made of wood and are thrown using a handle in their centre.


Lunch was then ordered on tables along the lake's boardwalk, where we soaked up the view and the warmth of the sun. The Hahnenkamm's white slopes literally dazed in the light. Hamish then headed off for work, while the rest of us took an excursion up the Kitzbuheler Horn. I love the Horn. It's a sharp, pointed peak the dominates the town's eastern flank. At 2000 metres, the Horn one of the area's highest peaks and always looks inviting.


I've been to the top only once, back in 2002, during the height of summer. At the time its slope were green and lush. Last weekend the contrast couldn't have been more stark as it was cloaked in a stunning mantle of snow. Two swift gondola rides from the town soon had us standing outside the Gipfelhaus, a cafe located just below the peak. The view from here was as magnificent as I'd remembered it.


While Karin and Nicole went skiing, Steffie and I explored the peak. In winter it grows temporarily higher thanks to the winter snow. We carefully climbed to the peak, soaking up the spectacular view of St. Johann in Tirol in the neighbouring valley and the majestic Kaizers, rising to the north, against a clear blue sky. At 2344 metres, the Kaizers are the highest mountains in the area.

Steffie and I then decided to go 'off piste' and trek back down the mountain to the Alpenhaus, a restuarant located almost 35o metres below. The distance looked easy and the snow seemed rather tame. In reality it took us almost an hour to make our way down the mountain; overcoming slippery, icy slopes and other other winter hazzards.

Steffie spent much of her time sliding down various slopes on her butt, laughing and shouting. I called her a "crazy women" which she initially denied. However, before long, Steffie was yelling, "I'm crazy" to anyone in earshot.

Munich moments

I've been in Munich all week for business. In between meetings and conference calls I was able to steal a few moments on Friday to admire some of the city's sights. In the afternoon, I was taken for a refreshing walk along the shore of the Nymphenburger Canal, less than ten minutes from our office.

Almost a kilometre in length, the canal is one of Munich's largest. It leads towards the large, imposing Schloss Nymphenburg Palace; once the summer residence of Bavaria's rulers. Today the canal was partially frozen, making for a rather unusual winter landscape. In previous years the canal has frozen solid, encouraging local children to ice-skate on its surface.


Earlier in the day I'd passed by Munich's spectacular town hall, or Rathaus, while enroute to a business appointment. This ornate, neo-Gothic building was constructed between 1867- 1908 and dominates neighbouring Marianplatz. It houses a famous Glockenspiel, or set of musical bells. Three times a day, 43 bells play a 15-minute carillon while 32 mechanical figures of musicians, knights etc re-enact festivities from the marriage of Duke Wilhelm V to Renate von Lothringen in 1568.

Nearby is the equally famous Viktualienmarkt, a fresh produce market area filled with wonderful smells, colourful fruits, vegetables and piles of wurst. Many of the stalls were setting up for the day as we wandered by. I marvelled at the thought of this industrious scene being repeated daily for more than 200 years.

Shopping by numbers

Almost every weekend we shop for groceries at a giant Tesco Supermarket. It's always busy. Sundays are usually the worst as shopping hours are restricted. Stores larger than 280 sq metres cannot open for more than six hours and only between 10am and 6pm. Some department stores artifically extend their hours by allowing customers to browse the shelves up to an hour before the tills officially open.

Sunday trading was generally not permitted anywhere in England and Wales until 1994. Only small corner stores and specialist outlets like garden shops were exempt from such restrictions. Today these small stores can still set their own Sunday hours, unlike larger brethren. However, despite this restriction, Tesco still saw a market opportunity. It operates its own chain of small Express stores with extended trading hours.

We have one such store in our local area. It acts as our primary source of bread, soft-bake cookies and milk. Despite the convenience Tesco still manages to attract local ire. Last year the local residents successfully campaigned for Tesco to stock the store using a smaller delivery truck. Previously Tesco replenished the store using a larger truck that carried enough stock for two or more small stores. Residents complained that the truck was noisy, blocked traffic and generally harmed the local quality of life.

No matter how you cut the numbers Tesco dominates the UK grocery industry. It holds a 31% market share for grocery sales and operates 1,988 stores, making its one of the nation's largest retailers. Currently more than £1 in every £7 (14.3%) of UK retail sales is spent at Tesco. It's Clubcard is also the largest loyalty card program in the UK. Garry and I are one of its 13 million active Clubcard holders.


Every time we shop at Tesco I am astonished at the variety on offer. Perhaps the most unusual item I've seen is Passover Coke. Every year in the lead up to the Jewish Passover holiday season Coke makes its flagship drink using a special recipe. Coke is generally sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup. However, Jewish law prevents the consumption of cereals and grains, including corn, during this period. As a result, Passover Coke is sweetened with traditional cane sugar. Fascinating. My local supermarket is the last place I expected a lesson in religion.

Light up my life

My company moved into a spacious new office earlier this month. The contrast between the old building and our new location is stark. Previously we were holed up in a cramped, cluttered space spread over three floors. Small windows let in limited light most days, while the surrounding neighbourhood of industrial lanes, pawnbrokers and imposing rail bridges added to the overall gloom.

Fast forward to our new location; a modern, smart office building with banks of wide, windows flooding the interior with light. We’re located five floors above the traffic, just high enough to provide us with sweeping views across much of London. Wembley stadium stands majestically to the north, while glimpses of the London Eye and Canary Wharf draw comments to the east. Each morning we ride one of two glass-enclosed lifts up the outside of the building to our floor. It’s probably the nicest office I’ve ever worked in.


Perhaps the most striking difference between the old building and the new is my mood. The constant barrage of sunlight throughout the day has been quite a shock. Winter in London has suddenly become less depressing and demoralizing. The light was initially disorienting as it felt so foreign, almost overwhelming. The entire experience has left me thinking there’s some credence to the concept of Seasonal affective disorder (SAD).

I recall discovering a regular seasonal pattern in my behaviour many years ago. As winter drew to an end I consistently found myself depressed and demotivated. It didn’t matter what was happening in my life, the pattern always persisted. It disappeared when I began traveling more frequently between hemispheres throughout the year. Living in Australia and working in Asia meant that I encountered very limited winter conditions for many years.

Up to 3% of the UK’s population suffers debilitating SAD every winter. A further 20% are said to suffer sub-syndromal SAD. If you’re worried, you can check each day to see if today’s weather is conducive for SAD. Seasonal mood variations are believed to be related to light. Extended periods of darkness and dull light over winter are thought to interfere with normal serotonin or melatonin levels. Exposure to bright lights at specific wavelengths will often improve SAD symptoms.

It comes as no surprise to see the Undergound inundated recently by an advertising campaign for alarm clocks that glow progressively brighter as wake-up time draws closer. While the concept sounds practical, I think I’d prefer an alternative cure. SAD is said to be very rare among people living within 30 degrees of the Equator. Moving to the Bahamas sounds a lot more fun.

Not the Bahamas!

Okonominyaki

In April 1993 I visited Japan for the first time. It was Spring. It was also Sakura Season. Translated in English this simply means "Cherry Blossom" season. Everywhere I ventured trees were smothered in beautiful pink flowers. Every day felt like a postcard come to life. I recall one particularly special moment walking along a narrow path that traced a stream in Kyoto. As I walked a gentle rain of pink petals continually fell from trees overhead.

On the same vacation, while in Osaka, I discovered another uniquely Japanese experience; Okonomiyaki. Unlike sushi, sashimi and tempura; this simple tasty dish is rarely found outside Japan. I've actually heard it described as Japanese peasant food, which probably explains why an enterprising local has yet to export it to the world en masse.

Okonominyaki is best described as a hybrid savoury pancake/pizza. Anything you can add to a pizza, you can blend into special Okonominyaki batter and cook it on a wide, hot grill. Okonomi actually means "what you like", while yaki means "grilled." Once cooked, you serve it topped with bonito flakes (dried fish shavings), nori (seaweed flakes) and rich Otofuku sauce (a type of BBQ sauce). While the dish doesn't look particularly inviting, the taste is truly divine.

Garry and I briefly stopped in Hiroshima couple of years ago. While there I introduced him to this delightfully simple, tasty meal. He instantly fell in love with it. I’ve since seen it on offer at the food court in Westfield Bondi Junction, but nowhere else. That is, until last month when Garry and I stumbled across a small Okonominyaki restaurant near Leister Square called Abeno Too. We immediately promised ourselves we’d be back to sample its wares.

Today Garry and I took our friend, Chris, out for an Okonominyaki lunch at Abeno Too. The restaurant was simple, the staff friendly and the food deliciously authentic. As our chef cooked our meal in front of us he was delighted to discover we were seasoned Okonominyaki connoisseurs. Yes, we knew the difference between his Osaka-style recipe (everything mixed into the batter) and Hiroshima-style (where the pancake is created in layers on the grill itself). We’ll be back!

Bills, glorious bills

It's been a quiet week at Swiss Cottage after our lively weekend. First, Garry put the finishing touches on a new computer server for our home network. We now have hundreds of gigabytes of storage waiting to be used. Second, annual household bills have started coming due again; home contents insurance, car insurance and the like have been arriving in the post on an most daily basis. Each is a timely reminder that we've just finished our second year living in Swiss Cottage.

We've finally booked hotels for our Easter vacation in Iceland. The itinerary is now locked away. We're going for a self-driving experience; spending time in the capital, Reykjavik and then heading east toward Skaftafell National Park, home to the nation's largest glaciers. The photos online look stunning. Iceland has always seemed so remote and mysterious. It's hard to believe we'll soon be there.

Garry and I have also started dreaming about a tour of North Korea. A few weeks ago we caught up for lunch with an old flatmate of mine. He'd recently come back from a trip to Pyongyang and was full of stories about life in the Hermit Nation. The experience was like none other.

NEW YEAR ROAD TRIP UPDATE
I've finally completed the last details on posts covering our recent road trop to Scotland. Commentary and photos can be found here. A separate post on our brief visit to Hadrian's Wall is here.

Secret schooners unmasked

Last Saturday we caught up with friends for lunch. However, our afternoon soon morphed into a evening at the pub that continued until closing time. Thank goodness for Burger King, purveyors of fine dining for the intoxicated. Its hallowed halls fuelled us for the night bus, reminding me of another subtle difference between Australia and the UK.

It took me more than a year to work out why three beers in Australia found me in fine form, while three in London left me much worse for wear. At first I put it down to the random cruelty of getting older. That is, until someone pointed out I was drinking the equivalent of a fourth beer after three transactions at the bar.

In Sydney we typically order beer on tap by the schooner - the largest glass behind the bar. Each one contain 425 ml of amber fluid. The same order in London is served using a pint glass. At 568 ml a pint glass contains at least 143 ml more than a schooner. Three such pints and you've unwittingly downed a fourth glass by Australian standards.

Futhermore, the average alcohol content of most tap beer in the UK is higher - up to 1.0% more. As a result, as a third pint glass empties, I've consumed the equivalent of a fifth schooner. The mystery of my London hangovers has been solved. Thank goodness for 11.00pm closing.

Living with the news

The unexpected sensation of living in the midst of the world's current affairs has been a reoccurring theme since relocating to London. Last week I was in New York for business. Three separate experiences brought many of the current news stories to life in a personal manner.

The first such moment occurred as my mini-cab swept past Heathrow's perimeter fence enroute to Terminal 4. The final resting place of BA038 was clearly visible. I was astonished to see how close the giant jet was to the roadway. It was immediately clear how narrowly disaster had been adverted only days earlier.

The second moment occurred on Tuesday when Australian actor, Heath Ledger, died at his Manhattan apartment. Text messages began appearing on the cell phones of colleagues as the news broke. Less than a mile from from our office a headline news event was unfolding. It was odd to imagine that I could witness this story for myself with a five-minute cab ride.

The final immersive news event took place on Thursday at Gabriel's restaurant. This venue is located across the road from the Time Warner building, home of CNN. In the midst of lunch I suddenly recognised the diner sitting across from me. It was Anderson Cooper, host of CNN's prime-time evening news magazine. I'd been watching him report on Heath Ledger's death and other prominent events all week. Here he was sitting in front of me.

THE WEATHER
It was freezing in New York. When I flew in on Sunday evening, the temperature was reported to be minus four. It rarely rose above zero for the rest of the week. London by comparison, was simply balmy with temperatures reaching double figures more than once.

Hadrian's Wall

In AD122 Roman Emperor Hadrian visited the province of Britannia, the northernmost edge of his vast and sprawling empire. Following his visit, an order went out to build a defensive wall along the province's northern border. Hadrian was keen to secure his Empire from raids by neighbouring Pictish tribes. Construction of what became known as Hadrian's Wall took eight years. Upon completion, a remarkable stone and turf structure stretched more than 117 kilometres, coast to coast.

I’ve always wanted to see Hadrian's Wall for myself. As a child, I was fascinated by the concept of building a barrier across an entire nation. On January 2 I finally had my opportunity. While making our way towards Scotland Garry and I spent a night near Hexham, less than five kilometres from Hadrian’s Wall. We naturally made plans for at least one short diversion. My initial research revealed that, conveniently, most of the wall’s best-preserved sections were in the immediate area.

A short drive soon found us passing through rolling countryside where jagged sections of the wall could be seen tracing the skyline of a nearby ridge. We eventually turned off the highway onto a narrow, winding lane. As we crested a low rise we suddenly found ourselves face to face with a broad stone wall snaking boldly across the landscape. The view was breathtaking. A metre-wide wall flowed down a sodden grassy slope and dipped into a small vale before climbing a dramatic, rocky outcrop.

Garry and I parked the car at Steel Rigg and braved a bitter, howling wind to wander a short length of the wall. We walked about 300 metres along a path that follows the Pennine Way up to a ridge overlooking the surrounding farmland. As we stood in the damp grass, surveying this bone-chilling and desolate construction, I couldn’t help but marvel at its presence. Here we were, standing at the very edge of the ancient Roman Empire, witnessing the endurance of history itself.

Flight BA038

Today's big news story is the crash-landing of a British Airways Boeing 777 at Heathrow airport yesterday. One 150 people narrowly averted tragedy when their aircraft lost all power during final approach to the airport, 180 metres above London. The aircraft glided heavily to the ground, 400 metres short of the runway. It then slid for several hundred metres across sodden grass, minus its undercarriage, before coming to a shuddering halt on the end of the main Southern runway.

In what could only be considered a miracle, the stricken aircraft missed the rooftops of local houses and the airport's perimeter fence by metres. Despite crash-landing there were no fatalities. However, as is often the case, a handful of passengers sustained minor injuries while using the aircraft's emergency evacuation slides. A lucky escape for all involved.

Heathrow's southern runway was closed for several hours, resulting in the cancellation of more than 220 flights. The delays have continued today. As I type this post, I am sitting at Arlanda airport in Stockholm waiting to board a British Airways flight home. The flight is already 1.5 hours late and at least one BA flight from Heathrow to Stockholm has been cancelled. I don't anticipate arriving home until 1.30am.

The last 24 hour's events invariably lend themselves to moments of reflection. I travel so frequently for business that its easy to forget that flying has its risks. Incredibly, there's no been one fatality on a major airline for more than seven years. According to the Guardian, the worst air safety record last year occurred in the Democratic Republic of Congo. It had six fatal crashes.

UPDATE

My flight landed shortly after 12.30am, more than two hours behind schedule. As we came into land we could see the striken aircraft in the distance lit by floodlights, with several large cranes in place. Heathrow itself was still busy, with long queues at the taxi rank and airline counters and luggage from cancelled flights piled in the baggage hall.

Welcome to London!

I caught the Eurostar to Paris this week from the new St Pancras International station in London. The station was opened on 14 November last year, marking the completion of a new 108 km high-speed rail line from London to the Channel Tunnel. High-speed means exactly that. Passengers can now race through the English countryside at 300km/h. My train from London took an impressive 2 hours, 11 minutes to reach Paris.

St Pancras International is incredible. The original building was opened in 1868. Build by the Midland Railway Company, its design was chosen primarily to outclass all the other stations in London. At the time its 74-metre single span roof was the largest of its type. Today, this broad expanse gives the station a wonderfully airy space - a sensation enhanced by the light, sky blue colour used to paint its restored rafters.


The restored platform is decorated by two iconic fixtures. The first is a grand clock suspended over the platform. Below it sits a 9-metre high, 20-tonne bronze statue of reunited lovers in a warm embrace. Nearby a second smaller statue of John Betejeman can be found gazing up at the roof. This artwork immortalises the man who led a successful campaign in the 1960s to save St Pancras from the wreaker's ball. I'm grateful for his efforts. London now has a wonderful new gateway to Europe - one far more welcoming than cluttered Heathrow.

A distant memory

We're back after two weeks of vacation in Dubai and Scotland. This evening, with my first day back at work behind me, our recent adventures are fast becoming distant memories. I have only a few days back home before I head off to Paris for two days on business. Over the next few days I will post as many photos and stories as time allows.

Check this post regularly for new links covering our own Arabian tales:

• The building site they call Dubai


• Dubai's colourful markets


• Our magical Middle Eastern hotel experience


• The many malls of Dubai


• A desert safari at sunset

I'll then share updates from our 1300 mile road trip north including:

• Our night in a castle


• Loch Ness and Ben Nevis at sunset


• The snow-bound Scottish Highlands


• Edinburgh Castle.

Edinburgh Castle

Our northern road trip was dominated by castles. The third and final castle we visited is also Scotland’s second most popular tourist destination. Edinburgh Castle sits on a prominent rock in the heart of the city, rising some 80 metres above the surrounding area. It is unquestionably the most prominent feature in the city centre.

Access to the castle is via a natural rock ramp that rises from the east. Roads that trace the resulting ridge are collectively known as the Royal Mile. I was fascinated to learn that this ramp is a lingering reminder of the last ice age. It was created when slow moving glaciers scoured the summit, depositing the resulting debris on the trailing side. It's hard to fathom such a large land form being overwhelmed by a giant sheet of ice.

Today the Royal Mile is a fascinating street consisting of weathered stone buildings - their grandeur somewhat tarnished by an aging layer of blackened grime and soot. From a distance the towers, spires and gothic roofline give the city a distinct, almost regal, skyline. At night may of the building are carefully illuminated creating a memorable scene.


On Saturday morning we woke to a bright sunny, almost cloudless day. We couldn’t believe our luck. Throughout the entire road trip we’d managed to miss the worst of the poor weather sweeping across the UK’s northern reaches. Two days earlier, while we’d been enjoying sunshine at Loch Ness, Edinburgh had been buried under inches of snow. Now here we were in Edinburgh enjoying sunshine.

We decided to make the most of the weather and tour the castle. As we made our way up the Royal Mile the castle seemed to literally sparkle in the sunlight. It’s a fascinating place. So much about its character invokes childhood impressions of castles and their ilk. The site is filled with winding cobblestone lanes, towering walls and fortified gateways. As we made our way progressively higher on the rock, the views across the city and the nearby Firth of Forth became more and more spectacular.


Inside the castle reside several musuems. During our visit we elected to visit the Royal Palace where The Honours of Scotland, or the Scottish crown jewels, are displayed. These date from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and are the second oldest crown jewels in Europe. As we toured the exhibits we learnt much about the Scottish Royal family. Until this moment I'd failed to appreciate that Scotland was once a separate nation with own royal family.


As we left the Crown Room the weather proved just how fickle it is at this time of year. The wonderful sunshine had gone; replaced by freezing, gloomy rain. The poor weather had clearly settled in for the rest of the day. We decided to begin the long journey home. Overnight we'd cancelled a planned stopover in York after the Met Office began forecasting heavy snow along the northeast coast. We thought it best to drive across to Glasgow and head south along the opposite coast.

Our journey home took about eight hours, including plenty of rest stops and a leisurely dinner break. We briefly saw snow flurries in North England but soon ventured into clear weather as London drew closer. Our week up north has been a wonderful diversion - and another fascinating lesson on this nation's rich and varied history.

Snow country

After a day of almost perfect weather on Thursday, we woke to a spectacular winter's scene the following morning. The foothills around our hotel were covered in snow - the first fall of the season. Only the lowest reaches remained untouched, including our location by the shore. Over breakfast Garry and I debated whether to risk driving to Edinburgh or to simply turn south along the coastal road.

The previous night, upon hearing the weather forecast, we'd called Edinbugh to cancel our hotel ooking only to discover that we's still be charged a one-night penalty rate. Now we weren't sure what to do. However, local authorities reassured us that the road across Rannoch Moor, more than 300 metres above sea-level, was open and safe to traverse. We decided to head east for Edinburgh.


The scene that greeted us as we drove inland rapidly unfolded into a stunning, winter wonderland. Within 15 minutes we were winding our way through Glen Coe, passing six inch snow drifts on the side of the road. I asked Garry to stop several times so that we could take photos and marvel at the scene around us. It was clear that plenty of other travellers had the same thought. We passed numerous people making snowmen and even a few hardy souls going for treks across the moors.


Driving through the snow-clad highlands was a wonderful adventure. The drive was tiring but well worth the experience. It was certainly something we'd not planned for, but without a doubt one of the year's most memorable highlights.