Posts

Recently, I have enjoyed many interesting posts in this cyberworld which has become a fascinating adjunct to our daily lives. It is always nice to come across a good post - especially a gatepost!

Above - a country post under attack by triffids. It may need editing or postponing.

Below - Noble Victorian gatepost at the entrance to a Birmingham (UK) park. Quite a substantial post.

Below right Gatepost at the entrance to Elvis Presley's Gracelands mansion in Memphis, Tennessee - recently visited by Miss Frances Pudding, daughter of the nutcase making this silly post about posts. It was erected postwar. Posthumously, Elvis left the mansion to his family.

Below Post box. No posters allowed.

Below The Last Post... played by a Mr J.Naylor who posed for the camera in Laughton churchyard, Lincolnshire. He was once posted to Cyprus though it was supposed to be Malta.

Report

In the Mercado Central.

Allegedly, the city of Valencia is home to some 810,000 souls with over a million and a half in the greater metropolitan area. But it never felt that way to us. The downtown area was curiously sedate and when we arrived last Tuesday, we even guessed that the country was enjoying a public holiday. It wasn't.

Our hotel overlooked one of the city's main hubs - the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. Although only a two star establishment, our fourth floor room was both clean and equipped to a good modern standard. There was even a little private balcony above the side street next to the hotel. Breakfast was included with the room charge and it was okay - spanish omelette, frankfurters, cheese slices, ham, tuna fish, fresh fruit salad, croissants, fresh coffee and bread. My only gripe was that guests were expected to pay an extra euro for a glass of fresh orange juice. I have never come across such an irritating supplementary charge before.

Established by occupying Romans in 137BC, Valencia has experienced a long and colourful history. This is reflected in its old town architecture which evidences various cultural influences as well as the city's economic might in past centuries. Previously, the north and eastern flanks of the original walled city were protected by the Turia River which had different moods and was crossed by several stalwart stone bridges. Ruinous flooding in 1957 led the city fathers to make a daring decision to divert the river's course.

Where once zillions of gallons of water danced to the sea, the old riverbed is now home to luxuriant gardens, jogging tracks, football pitches, children's playgrounds and the breathtaking architecture of the futuristic City of Arts and Sciences complex conceived by the innovative Valencian architect - Santiago Calatrava.

While we were there we visited three museums. There was the Gonzalo Marti National Ceramics Museum housed in a beautiful old Renaissance palace. It showcased the finest ceramics commissioned by the city's ruling aristocracy but seemed oblivious to the everyday ceramic-ware of the ordinary working classes. A second museum visit was to the Plaza de Toros - the bullfighting museum next to the city's Colosseum-like bullring.

The third museum involved a metro ride to the northern suburbs. It is called the Museo Fallero and it celebrates the city's Fallas Festivals. "What?" I hear you asking. Each March, huge papier mache statues or scenes adorn various streets and plazas. Over the years they have become ever bolder, ever more professionally finished. Unfortunately, on the night of March 17th or 18th each year the Fallas figures are burnt in a carnival atmosphere with dancing, wild singing and firecrackers bursting. The museum houses many "ninots" or models of those vast sculptures and tells the story of this unique tradition.

It used to be that British people saw Spain as a bargain basement holiday location with cheap accommodation and low-priced drinks and meals, making holiday pounds stretch further. Not any more - I can tell you. On the Thursday night, we visited an unexceptional city centre bar to watch, on TV, Atletico Madrid play Valencia in the Europa Cup and were charged nine euros for two beers - that's over eight pounds. The city's lovely botanical gardens were much better value at only a euro each and we passed two happy hours there amidst various exotic palms and spectacular cacti.

City breaks like this can often involve a great deal of walking and should you choose to visit Valencia, Rome, Berlin or any other inviting European city may I humbly suggest a stout and comfortable pair of walking shoes or, if wheelchair-bound, an Olympic athlete to push you round. I could go on and on boring you to death with more intricate details of our mini-adventure but I sense it's time to plant the following full stop.

"NO FOTOS!" at the Fallas Museum but I took this one anyway.

Pictures

VALENCIA - Not sure what this vibrant spring bloom was. Any ideas? Seen on a tree in the Turia Gardens. Following extensive flooding in 1957, Valencians audaciously changed the course of their ancient River Turia. Nowadays, the former river bed provides green parkland which embraces the old city.

Anarchists' former squat near the beach with a child bouncing a plastic football between the hedges.
Mosaic spotted in the magnificent old railway station.
Lovers using each other as pillows in the Turia Gardens.Sandcastle on Malvarossa Beach - a short tram ride from the city centre.
In the bowl of the Valencian bullring, a trainee matador discusses tactics with his trainer.
La Lonja de la Seda - one of Valencia's most imposing buildings. It was an important silk exchange and the cradle of much of the city's prosperity in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
View from our hotel room balcony in the centre of the city - towards the Plaza del Ayuntamiento.

Valencia isn't a city that just looks back on past glories. Here in the City of Arts and Sciences some of the architecture is quite stunning. The building in the background is clad in tiny pieces of broken off-white tiles.

Valencia

Valencia is Spain's third city. We will be there by lunchtime tomorrow, making our way by metro to the Hostal Venecia on the edge of the city's oldest quarter. After "The Panic of the Lost Passport" we then moved on to the next episode of our living soap opera -"Will Our Carry On Cases Measure Up?"

We're flying down to Spain with Ryanair - Britain's most successful budget airline. I guess I first travelled with them ten years ago, taking advantage of rock bottom deals to Norway, The Czech Republic, Sardinia, Porto, Berlin, Marrakech and so on. I am grateful that Ryanair provided me with such a golden opportunity to make a carbon footprint as deep as the Cheddar Gorge because they also allowed me to visit places I would have otherwise missed. However, over the years the airline has altered and many air passengers have grown to despise Ryanair for their pettiness and trickery in squeezing extra payments from passengers they should be cherishing.

The latest scam concerns carry on luggage. A lot of Ryanair passengers try to avoid presenting hold luggage because each bag adds another £30 to the overall cost of travel. Instead, many passengers walk on Ryanair planes with small cabin cases which are then squeezed into overhead lockers. The company have become very stringent about the dimensions of carry on bags. They must be no more than 55cm x 40cm x 20cm - including straps, handles and wheels. At several airports, Ryanair have been using a high-tech testing device - namely a cardboard box that will fit over cabin bags that comply with their regulations. Owners of cabin bags that fail the cardboard box test have to pay up £35 on the spot to have their carry on bag transferred to the hold of the aircraft.

You're not allowed any extra carry-on items - no cameras, ladies' handbags, duty free purchases etc.. Everything must be in your carry on bag. This is why, earlier today, Shirley and I went to our local TJHughes store armed with a tape measure to buy a new carry-on bag, knowing that one of our old cabin cases was a centimetre and a half too tall.

Assuming that we survive the Ryanair stormtroopers and their vindictive regime, we hope to have a nice break in Valencian sunshine. Of course, I'll let you know what we saw and how things went after we return on Friday. And if you're thinking of burgling our house while we are away - forget it! As usual, lethal booby traps will be activated all over the house. You wouldn't want to fry would you?

Spaceman

Above Robert Harrison prepares one of his balloons. Below the amateurish payload construction.

Hobbyist Robert Harrison is of course a Yorkshireman. At the age of thirty eight, he lives on the outskirts of Highburton near Huddersfield with his wife and three children. He is an IT director but in his spare time loves messing about with balloons, cameras and suchlike - linked with which he has also spent a lot of time educating himself and making useful links via the internet. Gradually, something called the Icarus Project developed - a bunch of amateur weather balloon and aerial photo enthusiasts led by Robert himself.

I checked out his Flikr photostream which not only illustrates the amazing results of his little hobby but also wedding and family photos. This is a real amateur we are talking about. For round about £500, he recently sent a camera up into the sky after first checking jet stream activity and informing local air traffic controllers. The semi-inflated balloon with its Heath Robinsonesque payload went up and up and up to 35,000 metres above this planet's surface, to the very edge of outer space, all the time snapping pictures of the Earth below.

Aided by his mother as driver, Robert was able to track his balloon when it parachuted down three or four hours after the launch. It was tangled up in some trees. Later, sitting in a pub with his laptop he was able to marvel at the results of his most recent launch. "Ooo you are a clever lad Robert!" beamed his mother.

A couple of weeks later, "The Huddersfield Examiner" got hold of the story and it wasn't long before the world's media were pursuing this good news tale. NASA were also inquisitive and contacted Robert to see how he'd managed such amazing results for under £500. They spent several millions more to achieve similar success. You see, if NASA was run by Yorkshiremen, we'd have astronauts on Mars and still have change for a portion of cod and chips. Well done Robert! Yorkshire is proud of you.

Above Robert's humble Yorkshire home soon after the launch of

Icarus II.

Above - the contraption is at 35,000 metres, on the edge of space. Below - Robert's favourite photo - showing The Wash on England's east coast.

Panic

We have booked flights to Valencia in Spain plus a budget hotel in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. All very well and good until this afternoon when I thought I would check in on-line... Flight reference number - fine. Name, date of birth - etched in my brain. Identity document? Passport of course. Now passport number... okay no problem. Unlike some disorganised dimbos, we have a document drawer in which we keep all things related to travel, including passports.

I get up from the grey swivel chair I am sitting on right now and mosey into the dining room. The little tomato plants under our french doors are bending to the light and the seed potatoes are at last starting to stir from their slumber. I scan down the little drawer labels - Pay, House, Bank and yes - that's the one - Travel. Whose passport is this? Ah yes - Shirley's. She recently had it renewed. And this one must be mine...but it's not - it's an expired passport with a front corner clipped off. I lift out the drawer, lift out everything, root around. At this moment, if I were a cartoon character, a big thought bubble would appear above my head with a giant question mark in it. Jumpin' Jehozafat! Where's my friggin' passport?!

For the next two hours, Shirley and I are like demented members of the South Yorkshire Police drug squad on a thorough search of our house. We rifle through drawers and papers. We're in the kitchen. We're under the coffee table and I'm up in the attic checking out the suitcase I took to South America last autumn. Oh woe is me! Where can it be?

I phone up the passport office in Liverpool, already visualising a mad dash over the Pennines for an emergency issue but the Irish guy at the end of the line tells me that their costly one day service is only available for passport renewals, not for lost passports. Holy smoke! And drat and double drat!

Tomorrow we'll search our upstairs rooms with a fine tooth comb. I'll need an angled mirror for the lavatory U-bend and perhaps a passport sniffer dog. As I prepare our evening meal - a traditional English chicken dopiaza with basmati rice, sag aloo and nan bread - I am reliving the last few months and wondering how the passport vanished. Who crept into our house and stole it?

It's while we are munching our vittles in full view of the tomato babies that I have a sudden brainwave. On a little shelf near our bed is a plastic wallet folder with various documents and leaflets from my autumn trip. I bound upstairs like a gazelle and sure enough, hidden among the papers, inside a brochure about a Chilean football team - Universitad Catolica - I find the treasured passport. Praise the Lord! Praise him I say! Twas lost but is found again.

Panic over. I spoon prune yoghurt into my mush while enjoying the latest episode of "EastEnders". Will Jack die? Won't he? Later I check in on-line. My pulse is no longer galloping like a thoroughbred on an Irish strand. Watch out Valencia! We're comin' to see ya after all! Yaaay!

Charges

You must have heard the news by now. Don't you think it is disgraceful? I mean, for at least seven years bloggers could post blogposts for free and leave as many comments as they wished on other people's blogs. As I understand it, later on this month Google/Blogger will be charging a flat rate of ten dollars for every new blogpost - that's approximately £6.80 in British money. Each photograph you insert will cost a further five dollars and they are going to charge the same fee for any comments left on other blogs. Lord knows how they are going to police this but I understand that Google have secretly developed a huge computer facility in San Diego to act as a billing centre.

I don't know about you but these unexpected fees are going to severely curtail my blogging activity. I just won't be able to afford it. You would think that Google already have enough money to buy up the entire Greek kingdom with all its islands so how come they're imposing these fees? It was all landed on us so unexpectedly and I think bloggers across the globe should immediately campaign against these measures. The internet should be free. If you have any ideas about what we can do please leave them in "Visitor Comments" below.