3rd June: I have booked a ferry crossing to Rotterdam in late September and accommodation for 5 nights. The plan is to cycle in the direction of Copenhagen. Schleswig-Holstein is on the way. Famous for featuring in O Level History in 1959. Once there I can give in, or proceed to Denmark. From Denmark I can consider going across to Sweden.
Ooh it’s exciting
5th Aug: As part of the preparation for the Big (maybe) Journey I have been out and about around Bridlington limbering up. All very healthy stuff. Until yesterday when a car came out of a side road and knocked me off my bike. However this gave the good people of Bridlington an opportunity to shine. The lady driving the car was mortified and appeared to be more upset than me who was brought up on Berty Wooster’s observation that into each life a little rain must fall. However a group of about 12 passing pedestrians and cyclists gathered around and were most concerned. They were uniformly impressed by my ultra-high-visibility coat. I was all for picking myself up and cycling on, but they were all convinced that I was in need of warm sweet tea and diagnosed shock. One of the cyclists, who knew me well, set off home to get her car which could double up as an ambulance. Another passing stranger, who also knew me, apparently, took my bike and wheeled it 300 yards to a local cycle repair shop. It was closed. They were on holiday. He then gave me his address, and would wheel it to his work shop where he would fix it – the wheel was rubbing against the brake. 4 of the other bystanders gave me their addresses, and the details of the woman who knocked me over. The one person who had been really affected by the incident was the driver whom no-one cared the least about. She was left to mutter to us all I’m so sorry.
I had been on my way to the remains of the Priory where I do a 2 hour slot each Friday afternoon showing people around and giving a subversive history of the rise and fall of the Augustinian community of priests, ending in the last Prior being hanged for his enthusiastic support of the armed revolt against Henry VIII’s Trump-like petulance. And worse. Or better, depending on your view of the collapse of the Roman Church.
But no matter.
I managed to contact a friend to say can you tell them I’ll be late? He could, and did.
By the time I got there, 15 minutes late, the news has spread around the town. Another excellent person, who was neighbour of the man who had taken in my bike for repair, had heard about it all and had come up to see that you are all right. More warm sweet tea was prescribed, but still not taken.
It was really good how people rallied round.
At the end of it all, I walked down to pick the bike up. Sue. There are plenty of witnesses who will put her away. Well, no. Poor woman.
Maybe I’ll get the bike properly fixed and suggest that she pays the very modest bill.
And I was very affected by the plain kindness of the people who wanted to help. It’s a good place, Bridlington.
When I got home there was a message on the answering machine from the new Rector who would gladly come and visit.
Perhaps I look a lot older than I feel.
7th Aug: Lesley: Hope you are feeling ok no delayed aches and pains.
Me: Well, yes. You know me. I have (nearly) always bounced well.
The bike was damaged, though. It will go to York for a transplant next week.
Remember, the underlying theme of my life… I have lived all my life with people who have had dreadful problems to deal with, and can’t compete
23rd Aug: When I took the bike to York on the train, intending to cycle back, the highly competent repair department said that the back wheel which houses my most excellent Rohloff gear hub would have to be rebuilt. Do not cycle back until it is fixed. I will get the train over on Friday and set off for Brid fully confident that the exercise will do me good. It will be an opportunity to check that I can still cycle 60 miles in a day effortlessly. This is farther than the longest stage of the Autumn tour, and as the route goes over the Wolds, is a lot hillier,
So are you going to persist in this foolish project?
Certainly.
When cycling on my own, I spend a lot of time reliving the past. This time I will be back in the 1960’s. In order to prepare culturally for visiting Denmark I am re-reading a book on the Danish writer Kierkegaard who was all the rage among earnest young men and women in the 1960’s. I hadn’t much time for him. He seemed to be unduly interested in himself. The earnest young men and women found a like soul. He was claimed to be the original Existentialist, and he sort-of invented the term. So why have you kept the book, and why are you reading it again?. Ah, you never throw away books, but more to the point, this is the time when Judy Whiteley (as was) came into my life. Now it so happens that Kierkegaard was as hopelessly incompetent at forming a normal healthy relationship with a woman with whom he desperately fell in love as I was. The Existentialism didn’t really matter that much. So I am re-reading the account of this inadequate young man with some understanding. Almost certainly on the way back home from York I will be delighted once more by the odd young woman who kept her strangeness for the next 50-odd years.
Heads are the most remarkable things.
Ann Parhad: Existentialism: a philosophy stressing the importance of personal responsibility and the free agency of the individual in a seemingly meaningless universe…….sounds spot on to me but I am a child of the 60’s which was a wonderful time for me so happy to stay in that era.
So glad you came off better than your bike and experienced the kindness of strangers and others. You are very adventurous to cycle back to Brid from York. This is an observation from someone who spent more time falling off a bike than riding it.
Good luck and hope the universe guides you safely home.
Me: The underlying problem with existentialism was its not being able to come to terms with simple kindness and happiness. Never mind about a meaningless universe, just give thanks for the bits you enjoy. And keep eating figs.
Praise the Lord and keep your bowels open.
Ann Parhad: Yes I can see where the theory falls down in places. Kindness is fundamental to being human and taking responsibility for yourself and your way of life has to be the starting place. Enough philosophy for one day.
Happy to report I don’t need the figs!
Me: All the more reason to praise the Lord
27th Aug, Alison Harvey: How did you get on, on Friday?
Have you managed to get details about the name and address in Buckrose Grove?
Me: Big-ish success. The train to York was cancelled because of a missing crew member, so after getting to the workshop an hour late, it was after 12:00 that I set off back home. Then no problem up hill and down dale. Well, I pushed for 15 minutes after Millington Woods, but that doesn’t count. Sadly, just as I reached Hutton Cranswick a train was coming into the station. I could have ignored it. But didn’t. No matter, I could have cycled all the way back if I had sufficient commitment.
And no, I still don’t have the details of the woman who drove into me.
Did I tell you that Phil and I are meeting in Luebeck on 6th October? Luebeck is in Holstein. We then move on to Neustadt in Holstein – him by train, me by bike. Next day I have booked accommodation for the weekend in Maribo. Which is in Denmark. That will be an opportunity to review the meaning of life, the strength of my limbs, and the relevance of Existentialism in the 21st century.
It’s good being old and without any responsibilities.
15th Sept: The excitement at Mayfield Rd is already at fever pitch, and the ferry doesn’t leave for another 10 days. Accommodation has been booked until October 11th when I am due to clock in at the Hotel Hamlet at Elsinore. You will remember that Elsinore was where Hamlet had such a dreadful time as his family life was so unsatisfactory. We did Hamlet for A level in 1961. At the time I never even knew that Elsinore was a real place. That of course did not prevent me from laying in to this over-privileged under occupied Famous Royal. I said as much in a very vigorous essay. You can imagine the general theme of the essay. His mother didn’t have to scratch around for his dinner money on a Monday morning. He should stop feeling sorry for himself and do something useful. It was a very sensitive analysis of the young man’s predicament.
I came across some of my A level essay books about 15 years ago. They must still be in the house. Somewhere. I must read this perceptive essay before examining the play. I have therefore spent the last 2 hours rummaging through boxes of historical junk. The bins are now full. No sign of my school books, though.
It will have to be an untutored reading of the text. Pity, that
25th Sept: It has already been exciting and I am only just in Hull. The train journey was full of incident, entailing me journeying without a ticket until we reached Nafferton as I had insufficient time to get one before the train set off. 3 passengers engaged in vigorous conversation about touring on a bicycle all over the world. I couldn’t compete with the Far East, but at least managed to impress with my advanced years. It was all very friendly, and we parted glad to have been on the same train. That’s what I like about Bridlington. Real people live there.
But more later after I have got in my cabin and discover what I have left behind.
Do not be anxious. The Marmite is in the pannier.
21:45 – No problems that can’t be solved.
I’ve left at home my battery charger and cables. They were in the box yesterday. I must have taken them out to be sure they were there.
The really good news is that I had already booked and paid for breakfast on the ferry. The breakfasts are large and sufficient to keep anyone going all day.
But the train journey…
There were 3 of us… a lady with a solitary 30-odd year old son who was cycling on his own in Cambodia, having spent last year cycling in the Iran-Iraq border region. He does not worry his mother by telling her where he is, or what has happened until he gets home. He is very considerate like that. She is a Liberal Democrat and looking forward to the next election. She has cancer, but is not letting it ruin her life.
The man is a builder making a living by buying derelict property and doing it up. He knows a lot about the iniquity of Capital Gains Tax and how to cheat. He is almost certainly not a revolutionary Socialist. He used to cycle when he was young but no longer as he has all sorts wrong with him. He would have told us more, but I trumped them all by telling them about Judy. This went down well. The lady was almost in tears.
This might have been an opportune moment for me to round off the conversation by a bit of community singing. Something like Count your blessings, but I wimped out.
It was an odd meeting of different people, all of them saying more than the words they used.
26th Sept 17:43: It has been an eventful day, and I have only just sat down for a meal at 14:00. Still 10 miles to go. The cycling has been without incident.
It is a warm, sunny September day with very light winds.
I decided to cut out all the route through the built up areas around Rotterdam, get the train(s) to Gouda, and then cycle on from there.
The last couple of times I was in the Netherlands the transport system took exception to my Visa card, so I downloaded the Netherlands Railway app.
Rotterdam supports two separate transport systems. They share some resources, but they are quite different. They got the idea from their South African kinsmen. So it is that Schiedam station serves both the Rotterdam Metro And the national rail system. It has 2 separate sets of lifts, and 2 separate terminals in the same hall.
I spent ages lugging my bike from one wrong platform to another.
This gave the native population a chance to shine. Young men and a strapping old woman all muscled in. At one point I tried taking my bike up an escalator. Don’t do it. It causes nothing but trouble.
It was only when I was on the road again after leaving Gouda that I remembered you take the pannier bags off and carry them and the bike separately.
Obvious.
Ann Parhad: Bravo so far, you were very forward thinking to download an ap for the Dutch trains. Most aps we have found to be troublesome but when they work it’s very satisfying. Message from Philip he is so impressed by your sense of adventure, as we all are. Bon voyage for the next stage.
Me: Ah, but what I didn’t tell you was that it was no use.
1. It didn’t know about the metro system
2. I searched for next train from Schiedam to Gouda . And it said there aren’t any. I was about to forget about going by train and biking when a passing Netherlands Railway man asked if he could help (in English. How did he know?). He read the message on my phone, laughed, and found me a dozen trains on his mobile. He then got me to take a photo of his phone, booked me a card ticket at a nearby machine, and set me off trying to find the platform.
It got difficult.
About 10 years ago Judy went with me to an antiquarian book seller in Hutton Cranswick and bought me a 5 volume bilingual Works of Homer. Latin and Greek. I had got quite a way through the Odyssey when Zdena arrived, and I had no leisure to carry on. I have just started again. Well, that’s all very impressive, but so what?
Odysseus’ frequent epithet is polytropon. A man of many twists and turns. I like to think of it as resourceful.
27/09/2023 16:46 – An excellent day.
It started with breakfast with a woman who is on a training course. She lives in Antwerp, runs drama groups for people with Downs Syndrome, loves her work, and will stand no nonsense. I should have asked her more about that. She said something about not suffering autistic people gladly. While I was on my bike later, I thought a lot more about that. Why didn’t she just say badly behaved people? Autistic seems to be a convenient label to cover all kinds of inconvenient behaviour.
In these conversations I give away as little about myself as can be contrived. Perhaps that is a character failing. I am an 80 year old man, once happily married to a heroic woman and looking for a suitable companion. Odd, tee total non-smokers, with a sound knowledge of the 1933 Methodist Hymn Book preferred.
At the end of the meal the host brought a plastic bag and insisted I fill in with unused items from breakfast. That was good. We had struck up a rapport when I showed an interest in his hens and ducks. He showed me round.
On the road the journey was pretty uneventful – mile after mile of cycle track on side roads and beside dual carriageways. However, something cheered me up. A group of over 30 primary school age children on bikes were waiting to cross the dual carriageway which I was also going to cross.
I asked someone who was probably a teacher at the back of the group Are you from a school? Teachers are terrific.
He didn’t have time to reply. An 11(?) year old girl overheard and said Yes. We are going to the Handel museum and then we are going to something else – I didn’t catch what she said. I was delighted. She was obviously going to enjoy her day as much as anyone else in the world. When they set off she called out Have a nice day. Not long after I came across a similar party of 14(?) year old children who didn’t look as though they were going to have anything like as good a time.
A few miles further on I stopped in Amersfoort to buy a battery charger and a cable. There was a problem with the mudguard. It must have been damaged yesterday when the bike fell down the escalator in Schiedam. Bother.
18:24: It gets better. I decided to Be Prepared and to pump up both tyres. No problem with the back one. All the air came out of the front one.
I managed to reinflate it quite a bit, but it wasn’t as hard as it can be. The farmer’s wife asked Can I help? She could do no better than me.
I will get my husband. He let out all the air as I had done. He tried another pump. No better. The farmer’s wife then put my bike in the back of her car and drove into the village to a local cycle repair shop. They fixed it effortlessly. I bought a new pump, and am now ready for tomorrow.
Once again I don’t deserve all this.
John Marsden: David, if you had installed What 3 Words on your phone we could pinpoint your location very accurately. Just a thought David. Your journal makes interesting reading especially the human contact side.
Me: I will do that UNLESS it involves Google knowing anything at all about me.
I have a not necessarily rational reaction to Google
John Marsden: David, it uses Google maps. I think that that is fairly harmless.
Me: Nothing about Google is harmless. However, if you have Komoot installed, you can see my route even as it happens.
28th Sept 15:47: – It looked as though this was going to be a day without people – but not entirely.
A solitary breakfast followed by a solitary ride. It was OK, though. My head is full with people, real and imaginary, encountered over the years.
The cycle route was unremarkable at the time. Mile after mile of cycle path. I started off making good progress, then got slower and slower.
It must be due to the unfortunate incident on the escalator on Tuesday. There are any number of small cycle repair shops around. I’ll get one of them to sort me out. So my head went on. Eventually after getting amazingly slow my speed picked up until weeee I was streaking down hill at a fair rate of knots.
I had noticed a cycle shop yesterday specialising in mountain bikes. In the Netherlands. A very optimistic venture. But this must be it. The mountain.
Then miles of flat roads again until I just got to Holten. My town for the night.
And there was exactly what I wanted. A cycle repair shop. Bring the bike in.
And in no time he had done it. And more.
I’m not sure about the real mudguard either.
I’ve fixed it. And the front light.
At the end of it all he just charged me 7.50 Euros.
He seemed a happy man.
You may have accurately guessed that my eyes kept closing and I dozed off while typing that.
I may not have been entirely clear:
1. I am a reasonable man and try to live rationally.
2. So will have nothing at all to do with Google. Martin knows that is a lie but he is not obliged to tell unless he is asked directly when he must always tell the truth.
I will compose a full explanation one day when I am more alert. It will include a reasoned statement about why you must have nothing to do with Social Media as well. Is this Social Media?
Bother.
And what is the man who might be laughing but seems to be crying doing? He keeps on turning up.
Karol Whettlock: You mean my emoji? I’m laughing at your social media dilemma.
Me: So why the tears?
Karol Whettlock: It’s commonly understood as crying with laughter.
Me: Maybe I’m dim. Well, I am, but was once good at something.
29th Sept A most handsome red squirrel joined me, at a distance, for breakfast.
10:13: It has not started to rain yet. The cycle path is full of children of all ages cycling somewhere. Most of them looking happy
12:30: At a café near the German border. Continuing to support the Netherlands economy in thanks for all the help I received.
It occurred to me a couple of hours ago that Uncle Bill visited Germany 105 years ago.
Well, he didn’t really. Didn’t get nearer than N France, but it would have been a happy thought.
It still hasn’t rained.
15:37: In my room after a cold shower (I have never got the hang of shower controls) and am hungry. I have done something that may let Karolkomoot see my minute by minute progress, but she seems to be able to do that anyway as she is my Emergency Contact. Let me know whether the responsibility is more than you really want to undertake.
It has rained heavily, and I don’t care.
It’s odd, this hotel. For some reason I booked it independently, not through booking.com. it is a perfectly decent hotel with a restaurant that smells terrific. I have booked breakfast, the price is amazing 56 Euros, but they only take cash. Odd, that.
Tomorrow I am booked in at Loeningen for 2 nights. I do hope they have a launderette there.
It surprised me earlier today when I stopped for a liquid in/liquid out break that the liquid in is much greater than the liquid out. However, my vests (correct term) and shirt ended up soaking wet. Perhaps that’s where it all goes.
Karol Whettlock: Yes, think you sweat a lot whilst exercising, that’s why you need to keep hydrated.
30th Sept. Me: 07:00 awake, alert, dressed, packed, and looking forward to breakfast in an hour.
If anyone has a problem sleeping, try cycling all day.
Yesterday was uneventful and devoid of human contact. Most of the route went at the side of a kanal, which must long ago ceased taking freight as it was periodically interrupted by roads. Red squirrels made a brief appearance along the cycle track.
The strategy for today is to keep going and look for a much needed launderette. Even I am aware of a certain aura about my presence.
It looks like a day without wind or rain, and as there are no surprise mountains forecast, it should be an easy ride.
13:01 and I clocked in.
The receptionist didn’t mind that I was early.
However she didn’t speak English, so I was again able to shine.
The laundry in Loeningen closes on Saturday and Sunday. I have therefore put a load of cycling trousers (3), jogging trousers, wet vests (2), shirts (2) and socks(3) at the bottom of the shower, and will trample out as much accumulated dirt and salt as I can. It is a lovely warm day, so there’s a decent chance of it drying by Monday.
3 socks? It’s all that are left.
3 cycling trousers? You don’t use underwear with your padded cycling trousers so it’s as well to have more than enough.
Once again the journey was without Other People and incident.
I am pleased and a bit surprised that the cycling is very easy. The lack of mountains helps.
You almost certainly will have guessed that I can change into my spare unused shirt and Sunday trousers. This still leaves my Sunday white shirt and tie for tomorrow. He thinks of everything.
1st Oct 11:59 That was an extraordinary morning service at the local Lutheran Church.
But first… once again the amount of food wasted by hotel guests bothered me beyond reason. Or not. If you are not going to eat it, don’t put it on your plate.
I had planned to attend the morning service while still in England. It looked as though it was scheduled for 10:00, which would give me plenty of time to get there after 08:00 breakfast. However when I looked at the all-German information yesterday, it seemed to be at 09:30. I arrived just in time to a thinly scattered congregation. The church would hold about 150. There were 12 of us. I sat inconspicuously at the side and nothing happened. In the pews were hymn sheets designed for the simple minded.
One of the songs included the words Regentropfen drehen ihre Beine Wie ein Fahrrad. Now I knew that I was travelling by Fahrrad and that regentropfen are raindrops. This made even less sense than hymns often do.
The time advanced until the church was comfortably full. By 10:00 a good contingent of children and teenagers arrived. It might well have been Harvest Festival, but there was no obvious display of fruit and vegetables. Then I noticed that the hymn sheet was headed Erntedank mit grossen unt mit kleinen handen. I think that means Harvest Thanksgiving with large and small hands.
With no announcement, 6-8 teenage girls came to the front and sang, with actions, Hallo, hallo, schoen das du da bist. Which is something like Hello, hello, Lovely that you are here. We were then all invited to join in. And again. And again. The music got faster each time. Well, that was fun.
The lady in charge was a most accomplished compere. We may have prayed. I don’t remember, but if we did it certainly was to give thanks for the world. Not a bad thing to do at any time.
Then we came to the song about bicycles.
A dozen younger children came to the front and led the song. Much waving of the hands and clapping and stomping, and then in verse 3 they lay on their backs and pedalled. I decided that we were not required to join in.
And so on.
It was a non-stop all action service.
As hymn 3 said Lord, we thank thee.
Now it’s all very well being sniffy, but a bit more of that attitude would have dealt with the casual waste at breakfast.
Then an activity that entailed taking a harvest loaf and breaking and sharing it.
The final hymn/song ended with the verse God loves me so goes with me, leaves me not alone, sees me when I am lonely, and will always be my friend.
You may find it all a bit of wishful thinking, but it does no harm.
Maybe.
16:32: Is it only me who meets these unusual people, or is it happening all the time?
I went out for a walk along one of the many paths in the town, and was hailed by a man with a bike by the side of the lane. He had a tray on the back of the bike in which there were a dozen rough looking pears. He took one, and gave it to me. Then another one. I started to protest. Then another one. Wie fiele? (How much?). He waved his hands and said something. It may have been This is just an act of random kindness. We may never know. I have peeled and eaten 2 of the pears. They were fine.
2nd Oct 13:51: On the road all morning. The journey was without human contact and uneventful.
This is the week that will test my determination to carry on into a third week. Each day the itinerary is longer than last week’s schedule. The big test will be Saturday, when the route turns North to Denmark and entails a 10 mile ferry crossing across the Baltic Sea. I will review my commitment in a few days.
But now everything is fine.
A few years ago the dentist’s assistant asked me what medication I took.
None.
She was surprised. All old people take medication. That of course determined me never to have anything to do with it.
Until now.
Last year’s fall affected me more than I realised, so I have brought sufficient Ibuprofen to have a pill each day. I don’t know whether it makes the least bit of difference, and will stop immediately if someone who knows what they are talking about tells me that this is just the slippery slope. Ibuprofen this week, then sleeping tablets next week, and in next to no time you are into alcohol and main line heroin.
While on the road I do have the daily reassurance that the weight of my baggage reduces after breakfast each day.
I am possibly unreasonably apprehensive and will continue with 1 a day with breakfast. That shouldn’t do much harm. The other medication (if that’s what it is) I have experimented with is adding a Milton tablet to my water bottle each day. It is used to sterilise babies’ bottles. Can’t do much harm, can it? It occurred to me that water in a bottle warming up all day must develop bacteria by the mile. But perhaps that’s superstitious as well.
It is forecast to rain tomorrow. My tactic will be to cycle hard (for me) and try to beat it. That will be a test of stamina.
And now for an admission. I have lost my purse. It contained about 100 Euros. I hope it was stolen from my pannier bag when I was having breakfast this morning. If not, I must have left it somewhere. That is not as unlikely an explanation as I would prefer.
John Marsden: I hope that you are sterilising the bottle and not its contents! Who else would think of including Milton tablets in their holiday luggage?
Me: Oh dear. I am almost certainly doing it wrong, then. I pop the tablet into the water. Just let the coroner know.
I guess it probably isn’t a good idea to have a bacteria-free stomach.
There are only 5 tablets left. I will not of course waste them.
We are all surrounded each day with thousands of hazards, each of them trying to do away with us.
And do remember, he may not have been very sensible, but he did enjoy living.
17:35: Hey! I’ve found my purse. It was cunningly hidden in my slipper which I have been wearing since arriving here.
3rd Oct: Breakfast finished and a general feeling of well being coursing around my body.
There were even more human delights to report from yesterday afternoon.
I had washed out my wringing wet vests and socks and hung them on coat hangers out of the window. 2 hours later they hadn’t dried completely, and I noticed some bushes outside waiting to be covered with washing in the late afternoon sun.
On the way I saw a door open and a lady taking washing out of a machine. I asked her in a sort of German if they were just for the hotel. She said yes, but… and offered to take my few items.
Can I bring some more?
Natuerlich.
I went back to my room and brought out 3 cycling trousers, a very smelly damp shirt and another garment which I had sort-of washed on Saturday.
5 Euros.
It’s a deal.
At about 20:00 there was a knock on my door, and the lady handed over my washed, dried, and ironed clothes.
Too good to be true.
I have thought a lot about why people should be so helpful. It may be because I don’t threaten anyone.
Or perhaps they were all Scouts and Guides long ago, and they still remember what they were taught.
But do be aware. I am Not a fit and proper person to be a member of the Scout Association.
12:51: It was just spitting with rain for the last 2 miles – not enough to dampen the streets.
I have now decided on a strategy for those places that don’t mind me clocking in early. Get undressed out of my now damp vest/shirt/trousers/ socks. Have a long drink and shower, then go to sleep. Apart from peeling off the vest, that shouldn’t be difficult.
The ride was a joy – especially the section through the autumn woods. Less so through the city of Bremen, but that was just a bit of a nuisance.
The streets are now wet.
Now for a reasoned explanation why Social Media are so harmful.
I don’t watch television for more than half an hour each day at home. 21:00-21:30 BBC News. While cycling and trying to stay awake each evening, I have been watching all kinds of nonsense that I would normally not bother to look at. On one program yesterday evening someone looked us all in the eye and said Do not believe a word of what you read on Social Media. They are all a lot of liars.
And that’s it.
Not all, though. I will never intentionally lie to you.
I do select the information that comes my way each day, but it is all genuine.
Several years ago I mentioned to a friend who is a child psychologist that Judy was unable to tell a lie. She said She can get treatment for that. That response changed my life. It sums up the utterly false world view that is promoted by Social Media. It’s a wholly dishonest culture.
Who said it?.
Donald Trump.
So it can’t be true, then.
But that now applies to everyone. Except me.
Those of you who knew me in the past can hardly believe it. The conversation with the child psychologist led to a conversion experience. I now model myself on Judy. And my mother. And all the righteous men and women who tried to form me 70 years and more ago.
We can cure compulsive honesty. Ha!
4th Oct 07:30: and another unspoilt day so far.
Yesterday was odd. I spent the day in Zeven. It was closed.
While shops claimed that they opened on Tuesdays, they evidently didn’t. I wanted to get some toothpaste, something for the boil (?) on my thumb, an EU plug for my mobile (I have been borrowing one each evening so far) and some oil for my chain. Nowhere at all, from one end of the town to the other, was open. Phil later told me that it was Einheitstag when across the German nation no one does anything.
No matter. The hotel lent me another plug, I managed to squeeze just about enough toothpaste for another day, and my thumb will just have to cure itself. Which it seems to be doing well enough. I had already oiled my bike chain yesterday, so once again can manage to make the best of a bad job.
Today I hope to reach N Hamburg. There seems to be a 2 mile ferry crossing to get over the Elbe. Some of the water will have come all the way from the Alps and through Prague. Which makes it much more adventurous than me.
11:00: I am on the bank of the Elbe strangely bewildered.
It looks as if the ferry leaves from here, but no-one else is waiting and I am not sure that this is where I ought to be.
There is a cycle repair place I passed about half a mile away. If nothing happens and no-one else arrives in half an hour I will go back and ask.
Now here’s a thing. While on my bike this morning I thought over Einheitstag. Ein is one, heit is ness and tag is day. So Einheitstag is one-ness-day which makes it reunification day which then makes it about a year since I nearly killed myself cycling down a steep hill in Saxony.
And yippee! A boat has turned up, about 12 other cyclists are waiting, and I am at last quietly confident.
The water has also flowed past Wittenberg of fond memory.
13:57: And now, at last, in spite of a few random walks, I have clocked in to tonight’s accommodation, and can type the message I have been looking forward to sending for a few days.
I am over halfway to Elsinore
I have still not made up my mind what I really want to do. Copenhagen has no great attraction for me. I quite fancy cycling along the Swedish coast to Malmoe just to have done it.
I can do whatever I want.
Now to get some toothpaste
PJB: There’s a little mermaid to visit
Me: Are you allowed to say bugger the mermaid, or is that non-feasible?
There are not many of us, but I am one of the select few who have no idea what this mermaid is all about.
Karol Whettlock: Phillip says is Elsinore near Mordor?
5th Oct: Me: 07:00 and I am in 2 minds how to approach today.
The first bit is easy. Give thanks for it, another good night’s sleep, and all the opportunities the day offers. The problem is that there are too many of them.
It is raining, and forecast to continue to rain for the rest of the day. Unfortunately there is a railway station about 400 yards down the street. My German Railway app tells me that I can take a bike on a train (well, 2 trains) to Luebeck after 09:30. Sadly, it does not allow me to pay for it. For whatever reason neither my bank nor PayPal will help.
The prospect of having to keep my mobile dry all day while using it to navigate is tipping the balance towards going to the station and persuading one of their machines to cooperate.
It was a bit odd yesterday afternoon.
I decided to go out to get something to eat, not knowing where I was. That was how I discovered the railway station and then the centre of Pinnenberg. They don’t seem to go in much for corner shops here. I did find a pharmacy which had any number of different boxes containing what might well have been toothpaste. The boil (?) on my thumb is going down. The best thing I could do for food was a Vietnamese cafe where I ordered something unknown, choosing something in the middle price range (20 Euros) and hoping it would be substantial enough. It was OK but would have been even better with a slice of bread to bulk it up. The chain oil can still wait until I see Phil later today.
Then a random walk to the station again and back to the hotel where I couldn’t get in. I had a key, but turn it how I would, it wouldn’t open the door. I had a similar experience earlier when mein host showed me you just turn it this way then that way, and with a click it just opens. No it doesn’t.
Mein host came up, showed me again, and I was in. Then my room door wouldn’t open. Maybe he anticipated this. He let me in with my key and suggested that I leave the door unlocked. It will be OK (in German).
20:00 Phil has arrived and looked round Luebeck while I slept. We have eaten well and Phil has negotiated a series of trains with a bike from Copenhagen to Amsterdam on Monday 16th October. All I have to do now is to get from Amsterdam to the ferry at Rotterdam for the evening of 17th October, and all problems are solved.
The lady in the booking office in Luebeck was a bit unfriendly at first. Malmoe to Rotterdam with a bike cannot be done. We charmed her. Soon enough she had taken the problem on board, and seemed to enjoy the challenge. Well, she might be able to manage the journey from Copenhagen. Go for it.
Will Amsterdam do?. It certainly will. She needed to fight the international booking system, but 10 minutes later she was printing off tickets for trains and a bike with extra copies if you should need them. I was relieved. The itinerary for the next few days is now clear.
I will get to Denmark for the weekend, and then keep making my way North. Once in Elsinore my plans are still open.
Deep down I would love to make it to Malmoe for Sunday 15th October when I will be able to attend a Swedish Lutheran service. (Do you know that all the Nordic countries are formally Lutheran?)
While Martin Luther would probably not been over keen on stomping and clapping and lying on your back cycling in his services, it will be interesting to see what the Danes and Swedes make of their opportunities.
And Phil did me good. Of course.
6th Oct 08:30: I have never got the hang of showers. They offer a most unpleasant way of getting clean. You can never tell which way to turn the unpredictable controls and always start off being uncomfortably hot or cold.
But it’s all that’s on offer.
I needed to wash some of the residual dirt and sweat from my vest, socks and underwear this morning, so put them in the bottom of the shower to tread them out. By the time I finished, the floor of the shower room was full of water. I guess that the shower curtain had been directing all the water the wrong way. The towel that was on the floor was soaking wet.
In the spirit of Odysseus, I turned the 2 radiators on, wrang out the washing, perched it on the radiators, and went for breakfast. Fortunately Phil is not an early riser, so they should all have time to dry out a bit.
It is raining.
I had intended to cycle on to the next stop and leave Phil to come on by train, but will now accompany him. With clean and dry washing.
The journey so far has been much more enjoyable than I first feared. That is immensely reassuring. Rain is forecast for the next few days, but I can manage that as long as I can replace my (lost) gloves my (lost) socks, and my (lost) vest. Perhaps I get an extra 2 pairs of socks and gloves to allow for further attrition on the way.
It may be raining outside, but it’s still sunny inside.We have acknowledged that it is Judy’s birthday, and I at least have been openly thankful for her. She really was an extraordinary woman. And unusual.
And good to have known.
We can all say amen to that.
13:18: So here we are for the night in a Familiehotel. I had not quite understood the significance of that when I booked.
It is full of families. With little children. Lots of them. We are welcome to join in the happy club and to play table tennis and other games.
I now understand why they were so interested in Phil’s age when I booked.
One of the advantages of the institution is that there are plenty of washing machines and driers here. My still damp washing from earlier today has gone in with my cycling trousers and other stuff and will soon be finished.
Once they are all ready I can use my pass to go on to the beach (Ha!) and we can walk across the sand to the town.
I’m not at all sure what to do for cash in Denmark. They seem to use their own non- Euro currency. I will find out more tomorrow.
I guess another good thing about being in a familiehotel is that they will have a complete range of children’s lost gloves here. If I can’t get any gloves I will raid their collection.
Interlude from Karol
A man calls Pizza hut to order a pizza..CALLER: Is this Pizza Hut?
GOOGLE: No sir, it’s Google Pizza.
CALLER: I must have dialled a wrong number, sorry.
GOOGLE: No sir, Google bought Pizza Hut last month.
CALLER: OK. I would like to order a pizza.
GOOGLE: Do you want your usual, sir?
CALLER: My usual? You know me?
GOOGLE: According to our caller ID data sheet, the last 12 times you called you ordered an extra-large pizza with three cheeses, sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms and meatballs on a thick crust.
CALLER: Super! That’s what I’ll have.
GOOGLE: May I suggest that this time you order a pizza with ricotta, arugula, sun-dried tomatoes and olives on a whole wheat gluten-free thin crust?
CALLER: What? I don’t want a vegetarian pizza!
GOOGLE: Your cholesterol is not good, sir.
CALLER: How the hell do you know that?
GOOGLE: Well, we cross-referenced your home phone number with your medical records. We have the result of your blood tests for the last 7 years.
CALLER: Okay, but I do not want your rotten vegetarian pizza! I already take medication for my cholesterol.
GOOGLE: Excuse me sir, but you have not taken your medication regularly. According to our database, you purchased only a box of 30 cholesterol tablets once at Lloyds Pharmacy, 4 months ago.
CALLER: I bought more from another Pharmacy.
GOOGLE: That doesn’t show on your credit card statement.
CALLER: I paid in cash.
GOOGLE: But you did not withdraw enough cash according to your bank statement.
CALLER: I have other sources of cash.
GOOGLE: That doesn’t show on your latest tax returns unless you bought them using an undeclared income source, which is against the law!
CALLER: WHAT THE HELL!
GOOGLE: I’m sorry sir, we use such information only with the sole intention of helping you.
CALLER: Enough already! I’m sick to death of Google, Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp and all the others. I’m going to an island without the internet, TV, where there is no phone service and no one to watch me or spy on me.
GOOGLE: I understand sir, but you need to renew your passport first. It expired 6 weeks ago…
7th Oct. 14:44: I might have done wrong. But wasn’t it exciting?
As the bishop said to the actress.
I am on my way to Denmark on the ferry. Once on land it’s about another 12 miles to this weekend’s accommodation.
Easily the most exciting (and possibly illegal) part of the journey was crossing from mainland Germany to the island from which the ferry to Denmark sets off.
The Komoot route included the warning contains a section where cycling may be illegal.
It is.
It took me to a 2-mile bridge where the cycle track was blocked off. It was raining and blowing a gale. Fearlessly I pushed open the blocked off section and pushed my bike the full distance of the bridge. The route was made more difficult by the presence of piles of planks every so often. It got a bit scary when the wind (now more like a hurricane) tried to take away my helmet and glasses. I hung onto the glasses tight and managed to put them in a pannier. You can always buy another helmet.
When I eventually got to the other side and negotiated the barriers, the final barrier said on the other side No cycling. Cyclists must use the shuttle bus. Maybe there was a similar notice somewhere at the other end of the bridge, but I never came across it.
Once across I cycled hard to throw off any Gestapo wanting to interview me.
19:58: Morale is high
That was easily the most challenging day of the whole itinerary even without the episode on the bridge. It entailed the longest distance cycled in a day, discovering whether I had got information about the ferry right, and it was wet and windy.
I certainly felt tired for the last 5 miles, but never weary so that it was a problem.
The accommodation I have booked for the next 2 nights is definitely odd. It is attached to the local Danish Church which is Lutheran. The resident bishop is a woman. The rooms in the hostel are all named after Mediaeval woman saints. It is called the Pilgrims hut, and the old church is on one of the pilgrimage cycle routes in Scandinavia. Martin Luther was very dismissive of pilgrimages. He wasn’t all that good about women, either.
I look forward to an interview with the bishop tomorrow.
8th Oct. 10:00: I have arrived at the Cathedral Church in good time suitably clothed on the assumption that it would be cold inside, but maybe unsuitability clothed for propriety.
Sadly the bishopess was not in attendance, but the most excellent choir and organist were.
It was quite evident that there would not be as much stomping and bicycling as last week.
To make up for it there will be 8 hymns and a proper sermon.
10:56: The first hymn was easy. It converted readily to Praise to the Lord, the almighty, the king of creation, which I could join in heartily, mixing up the words and singing some verses twice.
When I came in a most helpful young man explained that they used German tunes.
That may well have been true, but the second hymn was sung to a 16th Century tune I had never heard before. By the third verse I decided to sing in a sort of Danish.
There was then probably a Christening. And another hymn and another. However, not a single stomp.
My Danish was now fearless when I sang.
The preacher entered the pulpit. He sported a 16th century ruff. He preached a proper sermon – the highlight of the service.
We stood in proper Lutheran manner for all 3 Bible readings, and sat for all the hymns.
The most excellent sermon lasted a mere 25 minutes.
Nobody laughed
We all listened with close attention. All, that is, apart from the contingent of 2 year olds who ran up and down the central aisle.
Only 4 hymns to go.
11:44: They certainly didn’t hang around and we all sang at a fair lick.
Other things happened, words were said. Half the congregation left and we celebrated the Lord’s Supper. At the end the service had lasted for less than an hour and a half.
We were much more respectable than the Saints at Loeningen last week.
9th Oct. Monday: The rain is beating on the window. This was forecast. Turning dry by 10:00. It’s better than snow. The Komoot satnav comes complete with weather forecast. Today it offers me a Northerly wind and fog. That will be a new experience.
I am on the island of Lolland and cross to the neighbouring island on which Copenhagen is situated after about 25 miles. The route contains the warning includes a moveable bridge. There is no indication how far it moves. It will feel a lot more reassuring once I reach the main island as it contains a railway network if things go wrong.
I have still not booked any accommodation after Elsinore, which I should reach on Wednesday.
Southern Sweden looks pretty flat, and it’s only 40 miles from the Elsinore ferry to the Copenhagen bridge. The warden of the hostel (Kevin, who is Irish) told me that Sweden is just like Denmark until you get to the mountains. Not much of a challenge, then. I may just turn up and see what accommodation is on offer.
06:23: I now pack up, clean up my bike, take my time over breakfast at a local bakery, and set up North. Into the wind.
The local bakery opens at 06:00 each day and runs a small cafe. Yesterday I negotiated breakfast with a young woman who would not be serving today. I therefore got her to write down what she had come up with, and would have it again. She wrote down: En kaffee med malk et rundstykke med smoer og stark ost.
It worked like a charm
It was a coffee with milk, and a round roll with butter and strong cheese.
Yippee all round
I clocked in at tonight’s accommodation at 12:30 having had a virtually untroubled ride.
It didn’t rain much and the bridge hadn’t moved.
The road was seriously dug up in one section, but two walkers pointed and waved so that I could reach a viaduct over the water by an alternative route. It entailed a 1.5 mile bridge connecting the two islands and I made it.
I found the last 12 miles a bit of a challenge. Rolling countryside where you are for ever changing gear, but if that’s the worst that I have to deal with there will be nothing I can’t manage.
Just as I arrived at the hotel there were a group of children playing What time is it Mr Wolf?, but they weren’t. Instead they were playing Come to me my chicks.
But we aren’t ready and they ran anyway, thus preparing themselves for Social Media.
Now into town (Praestoe Priest Island).
10th Oct: I am the only guest in what looks like an up-market hotel. The receptionist asked if I would mind waiting until 09:00 for breakfast. I am a nice guy and said fine, but am starving.
Yesterday Praestoe was closed. It is a small town by the sea. The best I could do was another roll and cheese with a pastry thing and some chocolate cake. A bit deficient in the fruit and veg department.
The late start is no great disaster as the rain is not forecast to stop until 10:00. However, it does get dark quite early here. Onward and upward. I am not sure yet how much of a problem upward will be. And then just 1 more day to Elsinore. Today’s route looks pretty rural for the first 20 miles, and then hits the Danish rail system. It may be a great test whether to cheat.
We shall see.
16:24: 2 hours ago I was sat on the floor of an entrance lobby of a B&B waiting for someone to welcome me. They didn`t.
After a bit I tried to send a message via booking.com. No internet connection.
I phoned. A long message came back. I guessed it wanted me to leave a message, so I did. 10 minutes later I could see on the phone that someone was trying to ring me. The phone was silent, as it often is.
When I poked the green button and shouted, nothing happened. It never does.
I rang the number again within 15 seconds of having shouted. I shouted again.
2 minutes later someone was trying to ring me. This time I think I dragged the green button a bit and someone spoke.
You aren’t here, where are you. I read what it said outside the B&B. That’s not us. I will send a message with our address.
Now think Odysseus. A man of many twists and turns. I couldn’t use Komoot to plan a route to this other address without an internet connection, so cycled into the nearest town about half a mile down the road. A pizza takeaway shop didn’t have a Wi-Fi connection, but the pub next door did. It was full of highly amused regulars and a model barmaid. 2 of the customers eventually connected my phone to the local Wi-Fi (it didn’t just happen) and I could plan and save a Komoot ride from where I was to the other B&B. It was about 5 miles away.
I arrived to a welcome and much laughter. I have no idea what that was all about.
Still, about today’s breakfast and ride.
They served a most excellent breakfast. They didn’t know that on Tuesdays I have porridge with dried fruit, but they did me a splendid meal with simple fruit, 2 eggs, cheese and dead animals, apple juice and yoghurt with stuff in it. I was able to have soldiers with my eggs, just like Saturdays. Then off over cobbled streets until the edge of town. 10 miles of rolling countryside. The route gradually climbed. At one point I got off and pushed, but could have kept pedalling. Honest. Pheasants flew across the road, and it was all very rural. I always feel a bit apprehensive cycling along miles and miles of road without a soul in sight. What if I get a puncture? So 10 miles up hill and 15 miles down dale, and then onto busy urban traffic. I had decided not to get a train anywhere today, but might reconsider for tomorrow.
I will examine the map once I’ve taken on board the altered start.
11th Oct: This is the way the world ends… Not with a bang but a whimper
I have had breakfast and am looking out of the window at the wind and rain. A mile down the road is a railway station.
Earlier this morning I assembled a large bag of washing. There doesn’t seem to be a launderette in Elsinore, but there is in Copenhagen. The train from Havdrup down the road goes to Copenhagen and then to Elsinore.
What could be clearer?
08:24: Ignore previous remark.
The only way I can book a railway ticket using the Danish railway app is by using GooglePay. No chance.
I am about to go on the road.
The washing will have to take care of itself.
And the rain it raineth every day.
16:30: A whimper? A whimper?
Not a bit of it. More like a lot of laughter, even if there may be disappointments on the way.
So I set off this morning by which time the rain had left off, and was not scheduled to reappear until 13:00, by which time I would be nearly there. Maybe.
Part way along I remembered that I had not taken my Ibuprofen tablet, It didn’t seem to make the least bit of difference.
After 2 hours I had not got half way, but was still OK to keep going without difficulty. There were 3 separate flights of steps on the route to mess up my speed average. After 3 hours I was still expecting to complete the ride, when I got lost in a network of ill-defined streets. Some helpful people clustered round. They couldn’t make much sense of the instructions and the map either.
And there was the train station. Too good to be true. The next train to Helsingoer (local misperception of what the place is called) was due to go in 10 minutes. We agreed unanimously that this was Meant To Be. I spent 8 minutes buying 2 tickets – 1 for me and 1 for my bike – and up and over the line by the lift. I left Komoot recording my progress. By the time we reached the end of the line (literally) my average speed for the day was a bit more respectable Komoot was unflappable. There displayed clearly on the map the Hotel Hamlet was 100 yards away from the station. Almost too good to be true. The rain set in, so that when I went out looking for a laundrette half an hour later, I was drenched, what with rain and driving wind.
I wandered round the harbour to find the place where the sea men wash their dirty clothes after a rough time at sea. The rain was a problem. I will make do for now, and then look for somewhere in Sweden. The first crossing is at 10:30, and I hope to be there.
I now intend to cycle as far as I want and then look for accommodation. That may be exciting.
I tried to photograph the castle where Hamlet felt so sorry for himself.
My photographic skills are poorly developed.
Now for something to eat. I will have a shower first, and find a little used shirt that should hide some of the general odour around me.
I hope.
Ann Parhad: Excellent news your plans felt a bit precarious this morning. Don’t any of these hotels and accommodation have a laundry? You would be hard pressed to find a laundrette in most UK towns. Would you get chance to look around the castle? Bon voyage.
Me: The problem is that I am the world’s worst tourist.
I almost certainly could look around the castle, but am just not interested.
I think the hotels generally send the washing out. I have been surprised that the towns don’t have a launderette. Bridlington has at least 2. Maybe it’s all our single room apartments and static caravans.
Tomorrow is now sorted. I discovered that I had started to book accommodation for tomorrow night in Sweden and then must have got cold feet, probably wondering whether I would ever get this far.
It is a private house about 20 miles into Sweden, on the way to Malmoe. Before I book with booking.com. I always say I am coming by bike. Is that OK?. It always is. This time I added Is there a launderette in Landskrona?
They said Yes and Use ours.
Couldn’t be better.
12th Oct. 10:40: At the harbour waiting for the booking office to open. The wind is challenging but no rain is forecast for today.
I spent some time this morning reading over The Story So Far. It needs editing, but is substantially sound.
I am surprised to find that I am apprehensive about today. Am not sure why.
Today I will acquire my 4th different currency and am running out of places to put them all. Both of my slippers are already in use. Whoever told you that you don’t need cash any more was lying in their teeth. You probably read it on Social Media. Now I have killed 20 minutes I will make for the booking office
15:00 and in tonight’s excellent accommodation. The route out of the harbour was most difficult. Not only am I rubbish at orienteering, but they are also redesigning the area around the harbour. Some of you will not understand. If this building is to the North of that road, then it makes absolutely no sense to go even farther North if you want to go down the road. Easy for you.
But half an hour later I was on the right road, going in the right direction. Miles of built-up area, then along pretty, countryside on well surfaced and well lit cycle paths.
The crossing had been painless, in spite of the near-gale wind blowing. There were only about 15 passengers and 2 bikes on board. Nobody else seemed to be at all excited about what we were doing. They just didn’t understand.
The journey from Swedish Helsingborg to Landskrona where I am staying the night was straightforward once I was going in the right direction. The sun was already low in the sky at 11:00. It made reading the Komoot screen a bit difficult, but sun beats rain any day. It was windy.
The route climbed steadily for 2 or 3 miles, but was not too difficult. Just slow.
Still, I was ahead of schedule. Landskrona, tonight’s town, is not over-populated with restaurants and cafes. I wanted to patronise somewhere just to fill time, and to keep out of the wind. It wasn’t really what I wanted, but I found some sort of a some sort of a (duplication intended) pizza place and hope it didn’t do me any harm. When I eventually found tonight’s accommodation the door was answered by a most charming young (20’s) Bangladeshi girl who spoke English as well as Swedish, and who seemed most efficient. She showed me the wash room where I am going right now.
13th Oct, Friday 08:30 This young Bangladeshi girl really was terrific. She had prepared a bowl of fruit and showed me into the wash room. She had just finished washing and drying a load of clothes, and then set up the washer and dryer for my miscellany of cycling trousers, shirts, socks, underwear and stuff. Just as well as I am always bewildered by all the machine options even in English. After 2 hours it was all done. Warm and dry clothes to last me back to England, with a bit of casualness about hygiene.
She is full of life. Goes for an hour each day to the gym weight lifting and other things which I did not understand. Zumba?
I will give this establishment a good review. However, the internet connection kept cutting out and I could not work out how to turn the TV on. No great loss.
Today looks like a challenge. It is due to rain heavily in a couple of hours. On the one hand there is a railway station about another mile away. On the other hand I get contradictory information about whether you can take a bike on a train in Sweden. There seem to be a lot of different train service providers in Sweden, each with their own rolling stock and rules. I will assume that it will be possible to get some sort of a train at some time today to get me to Malmoe. And that’s it. The only cycling left will be to get from Amsterdam to the ferry next Tuesday evening.
I have now booked accommodation until Monday night. This was more of an intellectual challenge than you would have expected. It’s the old posts and gaps problem.
Using my superior mathematical skills, I worked out on my fingers how many more nights I would have to cover, then looked at the bookings to find I was one short. With the application of huge intellectual effort I found that Sunday night was still unaccounted for.
No problem, I will spend it in Copenhagen, thus giving me a chance to not see the mermaid
09:57 Better than is reasonable. I cycled through light rain to the station, hardly taking a wrong turning once. Ex-cub scouts rallied round and told me there was no problem taking a train with a bike, where to get a ticket, and which platform to go for. When I reached it they waved to me from the other platform. It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy.
The booking office doubles up as a sandwich bar and all sorts else. Other passengers gesticulated when the train came in to show me the carriage for bikes.
So cast your minds back to when you were 8 and start preparing your Good Turn Diary for the next week. It will do everyone good, including yourself. It may be too late for your mum now. You will have to find a mum substitute.
Why do the nations so furiously rage together? Their people could all be working on their Good Turn diaries.
14th Oct 08:49: I am just finishing breakfast in a hotel which advertises itself as being green. I checked that they really meant it and included the customary message Is it OK if I bring a bike?.
Of course.
That was a most excellent breakfast. Nothing wasted and most of it enjoyed. I am not at all sure what the flour (?) based item was made of, but it must have done me good.
I am at a loss how to spend today. It is forecast to be fine.
Yesterday afternoon I found the City library and spent over an hour reading the first 100 pages of Bleak House. That must be a most ridiculous way of throwing away the opportunities of cycling through Europe to Sweden.
I will walk around and identify the location of the Central Station, then find the Information bureau to see whether they have any bright ideas.
The library offered to keep the copy of Bleak House for me to pick up today, and I might very well have another happy hour or two in a world of fantasy.
I asked Phil if he knew what pleasures Malmoe has to offer. They have talking rubbish bins.
Well, it’s something.
We live in a strange world. This is being sent from my phone, but I have also brought a tablet for reading the paper, looking at the BBC news on the BBC app, and the weather forecast on the Met Office app each day. The tablet is also better for planning new routes with Komoot.
However, the Met Office app stopped working a few days ago.
Yesterday the BBC app just stopped working. Poke it and after a time the screen clears with a BBC heading, and then nothing.
I may be pretty ignorant of how it all works, but had the bright idea of uninstalling the BBC app and then reinstalling it.
The (Google) PlayStore now doesn’t work. You can poke the logo in the list of apps, but nothing happens.
As long as my phone works this isn’t a huge problem as I don’t need the tablet particularly, but maybe I have upset some of the Lords of the Universe.
That would be a pleasing thought.
I have spent this morning in the library in the very pleasing company of Miss Summerson.
As she said so well I seem to be spending more time talking about myself than other people, which is a pity as I am of no great importance.
Jo, the ragged urchin with no family, has just given witness in an inquest.
I know it’s wicked to tell a lie.
Do you know what will happen to you if you don’t tell the truth? No, but it’ll be something wery bad.
He knew more than his Social Media betters.
His evidence was dismissed as he was so ignorant.
15th Oct 09:00 Sunday:
Have just had another excellent breakfast with hardly a crumb wasted.
Here’s a thing… Most nights at home I dream most imaginatively. Intricate dreams with the most surprising plots to them. Coherent, if weird. I have hardly dreamed at all during the journey so far. Until last night. Maybe it means that I am preparing for a normal orderly life again.
This might be time for a life review. The affairs of the allotment have been left aside until now. There will be a long train journey tomorrow to sort out my priorities.
But yesterday and today I have left Esther Summerson until I get back home and have picked up The Whale at the End of the World and am thoroughly enjoying it.
Today, though, I will relish some of Malmoe’s peculiar delights.
The schedule for the day is to attend the 11:00 service at the local 1st ever Swedish Protestant church. I had a quick look in yesterday to establish that I could find it. The interior looks most ornate although in the 16th century the local congregation had a most unsympathetic fit of iconoclasm.
I will find out more later.
Then back to the excellent hotel and down the road to the station for the train to Copenhagen.
It’s all relentless stuff
10:56: Well, that’s good. The first hymn is Nu tacks Gud allt folk, med hjartans frojd och gamman, and you will immediately recognise Nun danket alle Gott with its reference to hearty joy which we can all share to our mutual delight.
The man has said that I may record the choir. It remains to be seen what sort of a decent shot I can make of it
12:58: The singing was excellent. The recording was totally unsuccessful.
Well, the service was a bit of a disappointment. There seemed to be quite a bit of overmanning by the Authorities. The lead (excellent) singer was a 100% Swedish young man. He was assisted by a full complement of supporting acts. The organ played with frightening authority, women in fancy clothes read, and an older gentleman with a 2d dog collar preached, but for no longer than 11 minutes. Hardly worth coming. (I was quite taken by last week’s 3-d ruff. And this is 2023)
We stood for the hymns and sat for the Old Testament reading, standing only for the Gospel reading.
But it all felt a bit flat. Perhaps it’s me struggling to pronounce the Swedish bits we could join in with.
I was quite surprised by the multi-ethnic nature of the congregation. Sweden didn’t go around colonising the world after they had taken over Norway did they?
Once that was all over I made my way back to the hotel to pick up my bags and bike. The route would throw off any enemy agents who would never have suspected where I was going.
You were right about not needing Swedish currency. I managed to pay for a ticket to Copenhagen to get rid of some of it, and gave the rest to a surprised young woman with a child.
On the train I met a splendid pair of 60- something women going on holiday together. Aarsa (that should be an ‘A’ with a round dot on it) and Lulu. They were most intrigued by my cycling outfit and my white shirt and tie. It’s my Sunday best.
They were old and grateful. Not least because Aarsa’s husband has left her. They did not understand why I wouldn’t get an electric motor for the bike. Or why I wouldn’t fly. Crazy.
They left at the stop for the Airport and hammered on the window to wave when they got out.
Well, we had entertained each other and the young woman with the little child who got off with them.
Ann Parhad: Less of the old ladies at 60. Glad you all had a convivial time. Hope the rest of the journey goes well and you can enjoy your book.
Me: The ladies described themselves as old, Ann, but by the look of it had plenty of life in them yet. There is still hope.
So this is it. The end of another period of my life. No more long distance cycle tours in Foreign Parts. This has been a terrific journey. I am so pleased not just to have done it, but also to have enjoyed doing it so much.
There will be the final journey to BRI next Spring and then?
I don’t really know.
I discovered that in 1705 20 year old Bach walked 250 miles from Arnstadt to Luebeck to listen to the phenomenal organist and composer Buxtehude. He (over) stayed by several weeks before walking back home. It puts everything into context.
I looked at the project of walking from Bridlington to Totnes. It’s a lot further than I expected. Some bright idea will dawn before next autumn.
Remember to give thanks for all the things that you have enjoyed and for whatever is left. And for Boris and Liz who have brought the Tory Party into such disrepute.
Karol Whettlock: Why will there be no more long distance cycle tours in foreign parts?
Me: Easy. Quit while you’re winning. I seriously doubted my ability to enjoy this journey. But I did and met some extraordinary ordinary people. It would be a mistake to keep doing this until you didn’t enjoy it any more.
Karol Whettlock: Understood. You have inspired me with this.
Ann Parhad: You are truly an inspiration David, I have thoroughly enjoyed your daily reports. You have also experienced the best in human kindness and helpfulness which gives me hope in these tragic times. Have a good journey back, lots of time to reflect on your experiences. Well done.
16th Oct 13:25: Me: Extraordinary. There I am on the train not able to lift my bike up to the hook. A young woman comes in with her collapsible bike.
Are you a strapping young woman?.
… yes
Can you help me lift up my bike?
Of course.
Job done and we start talking.
She is Emmy. Originally from Sweden but now working in and for an Ecovillage in the Netherlands. She works on Ecoprojects funded by the EU to promote sustainable agriculture in Sweden.
We talked a lot.
Don’t you keep falling out with each other in your Ecovillage?
We have ways of dealing with disagreements.
She at least understood my reluctance to fly.
We talked about NoDig cultivation and its problems.
She has commended to me an island off Sweden somewhere in the Baltic Sea which was once her home.
If I was 60 (or 20) years younger I would be there like a shot.
We exchanged addresses and phone numbers. Well, I gave her my phone and she did things with it.
17th Oct: It is half past midnight.
I have never been up as late this year before.
But I thought you would all like to know.
I haven’t lost my mobile
PJB: Yet
Me: Paisley and Megan came to the rescue
Karol Whettlock: Who is Paisley?
Me: Just wait. There is time yet for the full story (which involves a full cast of people rescuing me) and will have to wait until I have greater leisure, but it involves me losing my mobile yesterday, and my wallet today. You missed that one, Phil.
But all is well.
Maybe it is wiser to start winding down my life of adventure
So the problem all started with me booking in at the Hotel Weber 117.
The Hotel Weber is a disjointed set of buildings (including 117) in more or less proximity to each other. I arrived at number 117 about 23:30, left my bike out in the street with the panniers, still on and went in and looked for reception. There wasn’t one. I then went out again and noticed 2 other buildings in the street called Hotel Weber. Couldn’t get into either of them.
Nor into 117 any more.
By this time I couldn’t find my phone.
However I noticed someone coming out of one of the Hotel Weber’s, ran to them before they closed the door, and saw a sort-of self check-in system.
This was where Paisley and Megan shone.
Remember, I had lost my phone but did have my 80% functioning tablet. They found the confirmation email asserting that I had booked a room for the night. They then took it in hand to book me in and create a key for me. A key is a plastic card that you can hold against a sensor that will let you into your room.
The login system also said what room number I was in. I didn’t think to remember it.
I needed to pay a 6 Euro Visitor Tax which I did with my card.
Back to building 117 which I could now enter with the key.
And there, perched on a ledge, was my mobile. I hoped that was what I had done with it. It happens a lot..
Now all that was required was to find out the room I was in
Back to the house with the login system which I could now get in with my key card, and try various random pokes.
No good, but a phone message said that I was in room 30.
All problems solved. I sent a heartening WattsApp message.
But not all problems, since in the morning I couldn’t find my wallet with my bank card in.
After packing and unpacking my bags several times it was still missing.
Over the road to where I had logged in, and there were several young men who tried to help.
One of them called in at the bar opposite and brought back a card that wasn’t mine. It’s really good to know that other people have these problems.
One of the young men asked if would help if he gave me 50 Euros to get something to eat.
Well, yes.
Pay it back when you get back home.
Perhaps I have an honest face.
I wondered whether to report the card as lost. It would be a nuisance if it turned up. Nothing had been taken from my account, but it would be silly to only report it as lost when someone took advantage of having found it. I cancelled it.
Another of the excellent young men played a video of activities at the login machines just before midnight, and there were Paisley and Megan and me messing around logging me in, and there was my wallet with the card.
Paisley and Megan turned up and we exchanged friendly greetings.
Nothing for it now but to cut my losses and cycle to the station.
I bought a ticket to Delft when my phone rang.
They had found the wallet on the stairs.
Well, yippee all round.
I cycled back with a wallet containing a now unusable card. But all else is well.
What he needs is a responsible carer. Who doesn’t get easily upset, and doesn’t fuss.
He used to have one of them.
It’s midnight on the ferry.
I had intended to get a train from Amsterdam to either Leiden or Delft and to cycle (32 or 16 miles) to the ferry from there. It was later than intended, so with help I got a ticket for my bike and myself to Delft. Either was going to be a most interesting route since they included a self-navigating ferry crossing. That sounds interesting.
However (a frequently used word in this narrative) I was most surprised to find that after an hour the train was leaving Delft. The PA system on the train was most indistinct. The next stop I remembered would be Schiedam where I had such difficulty finding the right transport system and taking the bike up the escalator.
Knowing what not to do this time I made many fewer mistakes. A young man carried my bike up to the wrong platform, impressing both me and the young lady he was with. I waited until he had left on his train and got the lift down. The lift system in Schiedam is of a most confusing design. It serves both incompatible transport systems. One of the lifts takes you either to the national train system (floor 2) or the Metro system (floor 3). I found this only by trial and error. The difference in height between the 2 floors is about 3 feet. And there I was, onto known territory and waiting for a Metro train to Maasluis, only about 12 miles from the ferry by a well-trodden route. The weather remained most favourable – clear sky with a bit of a breeze. I sailed on the cycle route past a queue of traffic miles long. There must have been an Incident further down the road as police cars squeezed their way towards the front of the queue. But the cycle path was empty. On, on, until a road sign included Hull. It was misleading as that turn-off is only for lorries, but no matter, I was in the right general area. Back down to the cycle route and to the next and final Hull sign with hours to spare. Here I met a couple on a BMW motorbike. They had been to Spain and France and were just going home to North Yorkshire. He had farmed a 500 acre farm near Ripon which had been in the family for 400 years. None of his children wanted all the hard work and insecurity of farming. It was all a bit sad. He was interested that I was still active. I guess he was in his 60’s – physically worn out. Unable to summon up the strength to heave bales of straw around. I told him that I took nothing for granted and about Judy (of course) and about BUSS. His wife was most interested. We waited a long time for the Customs desk to open.
I then told them about the 1st Bridlington Scout Group. Lesley and Heather got a good press. He had been a Cub and a Scout, but in a much less active group. He had certainly enjoyed camping. He found it difficult to believe that 12 year old girls in Scouts could eat up the boys for breakfast. But that was how it was. He had been sent to boarding school when he was 6, so must have had a very unnatural time growing up.
And then the Customs desk opened.
We certainly had a most interesting hour waiting. It’s a hard life being a farmer needing to rent most of your land.
18th Oct: On the train to Bridlington. On my way home.
Do you know that the word nostalgia means aching to return? It features in the Odyssey. It’s a powerful force.
Maybe this journey has been a watershed time in my life. I am going to disappoint a lot of people by not attempting to be elected as the allotment chairman in 10 days time. Some people will be sad, but I will give up my Council allotment and just continue to cultivate Kin’s vegetables if she doesn’t mind. And fight the Odyssey to the bitter end. And remember with great pleasures all the moderately good people I have known. Moderately? Taking into account that we have all erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep and followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.
You cannot realistically deny it.
And, of course, that is not the most important thing about us.
Keep giving thanks and enjoying life.
Final report:
So at the end of the venture what were the highlights?
I discovered a whole world of unselfconscious optimism and joy.
The girl with the school party cycling to the museum, cutting out her teacher and excited by the whole venture. Have a nice day.
The man in the cycle shop patching up my mudguards and fixing my front dynamo to do a good job.
That splendid young woman on the train working on a sustainable agriculture project in Sweden.
And, I suppose, the highly enthusiastic virtual cyclists at the harvest thanksgiving in Loeningen.
And all the many other people who willingly helped without being asked.
But you will all want to hear from Shakespeare…
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self that seals up all in rest
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed by that with which it was nourished by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Bit of class, that. I memorised it unbidden aged about 15 or 16 with only the faintest understanding of what it was all about.
But he’s not wrong.
jbrip 