willkommen

It’s been a hard day’s night.  

Yesterday’s comments about travelling in style and comfort have gone out of the window.  We have so much stuff that we have to leave some behind, including my bed.  I share a seat in the back of the Doblo with cases, bags, CDs and other bits and pieces - on my lap, under my feet - and I expect to be surgically removed once we reach our destination.

We booked a 4-berth cabin but once we get on board the ferry we realise this is not going to work - so we change to two 2-berth cabins and draw lots to see who gets to sleep with the loudest snorer.

Up on deck I grab a quick shot of the sun setting behind the Humber Bridge (see extra 1) before a civilised meal in the restaurant.

The crossing is fine, unlike the weather when we arrive.  Rain and mist.  And cold.

It’s mid-afternoon when we arrive.  Three of us are billeted in the basement of a wooden house on the edge of a forest.  The views of the surrounding hills are wonderful. So I’m told.  We can’t see a thing; fog. 

We have two rooms between three of us; a bedroom with bed and miraculously produced airbed and a sitting room with large sofa.  I don’t wait to draw lots this time and plonk my stuff on the sofa.  I learn quickly.

We’re all tired and slightly irritable - it’s been a long journey.  But the welcome we receive from our hosts more than makes up for it.  We have to go to a cafe in the woods and have tea and cake and meet people who wish to meet us.  And have a drink.  And more cake.

And then a call from the owner of a restaurant in the woods - will we come and have dinner in the evening? - on the house of course.  Of course.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been out anywhere, where it’s dark after dark.  I mean really dark. No street lights, no houses lights - and no stars.  The road winds steadily up through the forest and eventually a welcoming sign emerges from the gloom (extra 2).

The dinner is wonderful, the wine and beer flow and everyone, except the driver and me is …. very, very happy.  Other musicians, who just happened to be in the vicinity, join us and people get even more happy.  And then the guitars come out (extra 3).

We’re too loud and very soon we have the place to ourselves.

It’s almost midnight by the time we get back to the house.  Our hosts insist on us joining them for a night cap. And they don’t mean something you wear in bed.

I make my apologies and head for the sofa. There are going to be some very sore heads in the morning.

PS.  It's 11.00am by the time time my two fellow billetees emerge.  We have a first gig today.