13th November 2016

The day after I published the previous blog, the frost arrived, morning fog appeared, and the leaves began to fall. Most of these leaves, much to the benefit of the ‘in-house’ worms at my top allotment, have now been dug into several trenches and covered with soil.

The cobnut hedge that Sue and I plundered earlier this month is no more; the Council have chopped it down. On the bright side, this means that the lower part of my allotment should now benefit from increased sunlight, which will hopefully lead to better vegetable yields. However, that will ultimately depend on the vagaries of the British climate.

I made another trip to Heathrow Airport, this time to drop the Rothwells off at the Mercure Hotel in preparation for their flight to Bali. They did have a minor incident when a hotel staff member decided to clean their room while they were asleep, but otherwise, everything went smoothly, and they made it to Bali via transit in Kuala Lumpur.

They’ve been having a marvellous time savouring the delights of the Far East. They’ve met monkeys, gone white-water rafting, pulled the tails off lizards, cycled down a volcano, swum under waterfalls, ridden quad bikes, and enjoyed the local cuisine. It sounds like they’re having the time of their lives.

Meanwhile, Sue saw ‘Ben Hur’ at the cinema, and I joined John for an eleven-mile walk in Rutland. In the noble game of rugby, Ireland triumphed over the All Blacks, and England emerged victorious against South Africa.

On the 12th of November, Sue and I embarked on a completely different sort of adventure. Not to the heat of the East, but to the cold of Europe. We checked into the Hilton at Stansted just in time to watch three cracking rugby matches on the television before retiring for an early night.

The following morning, we caught the 8:45 am Ryanair flight to Krakow. It was, quite possibly, the worst flying experience Sue had ever endured. She was seated in the middle of three seats, with me on one side and a Polish girl on the other. The girl was clearly unwell and spent the entire flight with her head buried in her lap, barely moving. Unfortunately, her illness seemed to be of a ghastly, gastric nature, and every five minutes or so, Sue was subjected to a mustard-gas-like onslaught of foul, cabbagy odours. Sitting one seat away was unpleasant enough, but despite feeling for Sue, I didn’t offer to swap seats. Somehow, we survived the two-hour flight.

Returning to the hotel, we were escorted to our room. A large high-ceiling affair that looked out onto the cobbled street two stories below, on which the crowd was mingling among the frequent horse-drawn tourist carriages clip-clopping their way around the centrum. I wonder what time of night they stop, and why there are their little packets of earplugs at the side of the bed? After a refreshing cup of coffee, I went to the reception to confirm tomorrow morning’s excursion to Auschwitz and to book the following day’s trip to the Salt Mines (I always knew I would eventually end up in one of those!)

We spent the rest of the afternoon locating the Radisson Blu Hotel, where we were scheduled to meet a bus the following day, and followed that with a wander through the streets of Krakow. Along the way, we visited more churches and markets. Then it began to snow, very Christmassy.

Later, we had a very substantial meal at a restaurant near our hotel. Eager to sample the local cuisine, we opted for the Polish Platter. If it hadn’t been for the absurd, banana-sized gherkin and the bread starter with cream cheese and hummus, we might have stood a chance of finishing the shoe-sized steak, along with the slabs of chicken, pork, and lamb. This was accompanied by mince wrapped in cabbage, potato wedges, coleslaw, and an outrageous ten dumplings.

The waiter wished us good luck as he brought the feast to our table, and, despite our best efforts, we were defeated. Had it not been for the underhanded sabotage of the starter course, I feel certain the waiter would have been left eating his words.

It was dark when we left the restaurant, and snowflakes gently swirled down through a myriad of hidden spotlights, illuminating the medieval buildings around us. In contrast, a full moon hung clearly in the sky, silhouetting the central tower of the Cloth Hall. Magical.

We took one last stroll around the vast market square before returning to our room to watch BBC News 24 and listen to the rhythmic clip-clop of horses from the streets below.