Thursday 18 June - On train going through Belgium.

The ship was fine, the passage calm, the dinner expensive, but actually cheaper than the ‘advance offer’ on the net. Hardly slept, there were so many unknown noises. I noticed Benji listening to every sound at Janet’s - he was letting his ears tell him what was going on, the sounds of the house, who was doing what. So it’s only to be expected I do the same.

Hull was horrendous - raining - but there were cycle paths all the way to the docks - good wide ones. Met a cyclist on the train who chatted all the way from Leeds. No bother over getting bike on trains.

Just looked at travel schedule. Can’t believe this! I will get to Couvin at 1.33pm! How is THAT possible! I am on the train now - 10.10 from Blankenberge to Brussels-Zuid, arriving 11.28, change for Charleroi-Sud, leaves 11.35 and arrives 12.23 - then to Couvin departing 12.34 arriving 1.33 and then I begin my maps. Cost - 24.40 Euros. It’s 158 miles. Amazing.

Getting off the ship this morning saw a group of cyclists in another lane so joined them as we waited for passport control. They were a group from the British Legion doing a charity run - four days - Zeebrugge-Calais-Ypres. They asked me where I was going and said it would be easier to go from Blankenberge which was on their way and they would show me. They were very courteous and took me right to the station - riding all along the sea front. It was a beautiful day, not a bit like the weather I left behind in Hull. I kept up with them reasonably well, the bike going a treat and everywhere very quiet. By going from Blankenberge I have saved one leg of the journey - missing out Bruges or Brugge. This train is amazingly quiet - I love it! No problems at all.

So we got the train in 95 from Couvin not Chimay. Therefore my route may lay from Chimay, have to look at map but not much difference I fancy. So it was Chimay where we camped and met Stephen Fry and where the woman laughed in the casino and we ate Wolfram’s most memorable meal - huge bowls of spaghetti bolognese. He never forgot either the spaghetti or the woman laughing. She laughed all night. Maybe she won!

ps the train conductor looks like the English policeman in Allo Allo.

18 June on train Brussels-Charleroi

Brussels was not scary at all - of course when we were there on the way down in 95 it was midnight and everything closed. We had got the Day Ferry from Felixstowe and got on the train in Zeebrugge at 5.30 or thereabouts.

I missed my connection at Brussels, not realising we had arrived. While I was waiting for the next one (12.07) the train was suddenly moved from platform 21 where I was waiting to 19 - it was a lift job up/down all over again but I caught it. So it’s Charleroi next change, Couvin, then on the road.

I remember arriving in Les Mazures (Lac des Vielles Forges) it was late, we were tired, it was full. Of course it was August. The room was full of sweating men clamouring for a pitch. M. Bernard the camp commandant looking very splendid in his pseudo-police uniform. He took us in as cyclists - apparently they cannot turn you away if you come on a bike - and put us "sous les arbres" as all the tent pitches were taken.

We pitched in the dark and were off early next day so didn’t explore eating possibilities - but next morning we happened on a little village and discovered Pain Chocolat - never knew it existed - and just when we were about to leave! Quelle dommage!

18 June 8.30 pm Bourg-Fidèle

Made it here about 6pm, after arriving in Couvin at 3pm instead of 1.33 as promised - delays were due to unfamiliarity with the rail system, no one to ask, bike presenting problems at Charleroi as there were no lifts and it was a step job, had to take all luggage off. Also platform numbering system confusing, and the station appeared to be in two halves, had to cross a road for some reason to find the platform. Like one of those dreams where nothing works.

Getting out of Couvin a nightmare, horrible traffic packed roads, hot sun, and once out of the town several long uphills where I had to walk. I seemed to climb all the time - Bourg-Fidèle is really on top of everything. Les Mazures is just along the road from here but I decided enough was enough. I remembered the road to LM as difficult.

This is a small enchanting site in the back lot of a restaurant - yes, great pull! Camping cost 6.70E. Guess what, the restaurant was shut! But they make snacks for campers. Lovely people running it. I am sure of a peaceful and undisturbed night. I had a shower, and washed and hung out my clothes. Had lasagne at 9E was straight out of Lidls but what the hell I needed a hot meal. They made me a green salad with it and I had two glasses (tiny ones) of red wine. I just ordered a coffee. The tent went up with no problems but it will be another matter if wet. I have the self-inflating mat - it’s very narrow. Texted Diana. The meal cost 15E in all - Lasagne 9, salad 1.50, 2 glasses of wine 3, coffee 1.50. So a bit of a splurge.

Took a few photos on the way here, then nothing. After taking five, camera packed in, putting up some notice about internal memory being full, which is nonsense, it is supposed to take 420.

Friday 19 June, Bourg-Fidèle - Melanie’s birthday.

I am sitting in the restaurant at the campsite where they do breakfast - coffee in a bowl, bread and jam. I will ride past Les Mazures this morning. Sad I will never see the water pump with the Aztec Binding of the Years - they would never let me in with a cock and bull story about being there fourteen years ago!

Well incredibly I did sleep and more incredibly actually do not ache. Whether this is due to the inflatable mat I don’t know, but it sure helps. Not wide enough of course and yes I did need the fleece bag which I did not bring. Quite cool when I woke. I was up in the night at 4am to the toilet - should have gone earlier but wouldn’t. Woke at around 6.40 and got up at 7, dressed and packed away by 8.30.

Well, Second Day coming up! Sun coming out now this is good. What will today bring? In the Lap of the Gods. Aiming at Douzy (map 3) by tonight. 6pm is a good time to stop.

Something went wrong somewhere this morning. Those autoroute maps are not always so good. I should have got the real maps out earlier. I was on my way by 10 to 10 (10/10 our wedding anniversary) but somehow got wrong and following the road to Charleville-Mezières ended up going in a large circle back to where I should have been. Anyway these things happen. Heard Wolf telling me it’s not a race it’s about enjoyment. He also told me a kilometre is 3/5ths of a mile - have to check it out. He will be right on target.

I am writing this in the tent as it is cold and windy. The wind just dropped for the second time, the evening sun is at the back of the tent. I got a pitch near the toilet block - I am here at the Municipal at Sedan. I arrived and there was no one in the office and there was a notice in the window saying the agent was on the site and to ring this number - a French mobile. They can go and fuck themselves. There were dire warnings not to enter the site without permission but I came on and pitched, then went back and there was someone there. They did not seem bothered that their instructions were not followed.

I don’t remember Wolf and I being here. I was seven hours on the bike - have a sore bottom. I had breakfast at B-F, coffee some place, and some leftover bread from breakfast and some cheese. At the last town before Sedan (Floing) had a cup of Earl Grey in a café. At a greengrocer across from it I bought a huge tomato, bread, apricots and a nectarine. Made my first coffee. This place is reasonably quiet and I am next to a fence where I can hang my clothes to dry. The showers are appalling but the toilets usable.

I texted Maud asking her to contact Wilkinsons re camera, gave her all details but she has done nothing. I repeated the request but still nothing. Well there were no photos last time, so it seems appropriate that there will be none this time either.

Ah well. Should sleep tonight unless cold. We are by the river here.

Saturday 20th June 8.25am at Sedan

Up at 7 and made coffee again - tastes like shite. Either it’s me or the English coffee. No shampoo left now, used up what I got on the boat. Have struck camp and the tent pieces are drying on the handy fence.

Yesterday was hard but possibly the second day is. I was worried about getting through Charleville-Mezières but it was a lovely place and very historic. Went in the old Basilica but it had been ‘evangelized’ - stripped walls, stripped out all the old plaster, no doubt mediaeval painted, stripped out all side altars and removed the Saints. Just bare spaces now. Thank God they dare not remove Mary (as yet). She was still in her corner. I lit a candle for Wolf and didn’t pay as he never would. The church has enough money he would say.

Headed for Wadelincourt now, will either make Dun-sur-Meuse or Sivigny tonight.

Saturday 20th evening - Dun sur Meuse

This is a poxy spot. I was done in when I got to Stenay, only to find no tent camping until 1 July - only motor homes. Had to go to Tourism Office to find this out, where a kind of jobs-worth chap explained to me why he could not let me on. I had to do another 13km to DSM. This is another Municipal with disgusting toilets and a good job I did not want a shower as you would NEVER undress in that one! Added to it all there is bloody music blaring out. There was a small camp a bit down the road but it looked run down and I thought I would continue to the Green Lake where I had been directed. 

There has been only one decent camp so far at B-F. And there is no signal here so no messages. I meant to phone Bob or ask Diana to get him to text so he can sort out the camera. Had a shock today first lot of money nearly gone. Still got some of it left, but I shall have to start on the remaining 200 tomorrow.

I am making very slow progress. Today was nearly all walking - eight hours of it. As my arse was very sore anyway perhaps that was not a bad thing. I think I chose the wrong side of the Meuse. I was up some very steep and heavily trafficked roads. I must start asking the pendulum these kind of things. I did around 10m to complete Map 3 and the whole of Map 4 which is 22 - so I only did 32 miles. Mind you mostly walking. Thank god these last 13km were largely level. A practically straight road. Now I have to work out how to get out of here!

My total so far is 86 - first day was 23. 23+32 is 55 and taken from 86 this is 31 - so around 30 seems to be the limit. The roads have been very hilly so far. Okay tomorrow I am on Map 5 to Liny sur Dun or on the other side of Meuse. Map 6 is 20m. Now I am worried about campsites. There is one at Verdun - the posh one. One further on at Sommedieue.

Some bikers (motor bikes) are camped alongside - very young. They have three tents.

Monday 22 June, at Sedan

This has taught me - two are a team and one is alone. "One is one and all alone and ever more shall be so." If I need to do something with my life, this is not it! Wolf always said I had to find out the hard way - I have to be knocked on the head like a tent peg before it will go in. This is my second lesson. The first was - you cannot recreate the past. It cannot live again; just as the person who died cannot live again. Also, they are not preserved in amber they are living and ongoing in a different dimension - they are not their photos frozen in time on a marble grave. They are translated and enabled - glorified.

My prayer for today is - let there be trains to Zeebrugge! I can do no more. My legs have finally had it. Last night was so cold - that tent is not windproof. It hangs at odd angles and the outer touches the inner, which should never happen. Last night I did pitch with a slight (very very very slight) slope so will have to check tonight. It is unlikely I can ferry home tonight if I get to Zeebrugge as Mondays are more expensive than Tuesday-Wednesdays - also have to pray there are cheaper cabins left. It is not "THE SEASON" after all, is it. Wow will I be glad to get back to UK! Blighty.

I was also reset the lesson I had (but did not learn) in Ireland - I have made myself stateless - I am not young and lovely - no one wants to know/help me. As an OLD PERSON I need to stay in my community where I am known and have history - I can be "eccentric" at home but away from home - on the road - I am just "queer". Also I reveal my status/id/class - an old person needs hotels - why are you in a tent? You have no money/status and are therefore of NO CONSEQUENCE.

Well I hope the outer has dried. I will go pack up.

ps - recreating the past - I can remember NONE of it. I am not relaxed or receiving inspiration. I am driven, stressed and cannot even remember the last few days - where I was or what I saw. Oh and another lesson. Yorkshire Bikeliner - the impoverished elderly salute you. I will in future take your TOURS! I have learned that lesson at least. NO MORE HUMPING LOADS.

Gods please get me out of here and on a train to Zeebrugge or nearest today - Geraldine your Servant salutes you.

Monday 22nd 5.10pm

I was sorry that I did not get the name of the café of last night, but guess what, as I left the camp site (not having paid, what the hell) I saw one of the women from the café walking past on the other side of the road. I called "Bonjour, Madame!" it is so polite here how everyone calls you ‘madame’ it is so nice and I love saying it. She recognised me too. I went only a little way then realised I could ask her the name, turning round I sped after her and called, "Madame, quel est le nom de votre café?"

She replied, "C’est Le Régent!" I could not believe it! My address is Regent Street. Symbolic or what?

Went to the station at Sedan only to be told there are no trains to Belgium. I could go to Paris, or Lille, to get a connection to Brussels and that was it. If I went to either place I would not have got out of there tonight. Since no one wants to be stranded in goddam Paris with no place to stay that was it really. Nothing for it but to ride all the way.

I decided to make for Charleville-Mezières as I could not possibly get further - it was about 21km and it took all day. Taking a break in a village street with one of the very few benches provided in France an old Algerian tried to beg from me.

Got to C-M around 3.30 before the tourist offices closed but had trouble finding one. Went to ask in a post office which took forever and they did not seem to know anyway. Someone eventually found who knew where it was "tout droit, tout droit, tout droit," as they say when they mean go a very long way in one direction. Took me the first day to work out that droit is straight and droite is right. Can be confusing. Was directed to Place Ducale. Whilst going tout droit passed a sign to the campsite, but the point of going to tourism office was to find a hotel or chambres but desperately needed to remember direction of campsite in case that proved impossible. Arrived at the Place at top of long uphill slog only to find on asking that it was considerably further on. Decided not to bother as in danger of losing campsite direction so went back, thinking I will look for a hotel on the way. Turned the corner and there was a very nice hotel, Le César, at 47E for a large room. What bliss to sleep in a bed! 47E is almost near as dammit pounds, but do not care. I feel safe, will be warm and comfortable and can recuperate. I had a pot of tea in my room and boiled my kettle in the bathroom for an extra (very weak) cup.

1. Ultracrepidarianism - don't ask the sandalmaker to know much about what goes on above the ankle (Roman proverb). ie  - don’t ask more of your friends than they are able to give. 

2. If I want to do something with my life, this is not it.

3. You cannot recreate the past

4. Old people should stay home if they cannot travel the world in style.

5. Holidays are still boring even if they are on a bike.

6. At home you may be an eccentric, here you are just a mad old fool

7. Yorkshire Bikeliner is the Holy Grail of holidays for the impoverished elderly.

8. Two are a Team but One is Alone.

9. The dead are not preserved in amber, they are ongoing and living on another plane. They are not their photographs frozen in time on a marble gravestone, they develop and grow - so must you.

10. When you leave home you are Stateless - you have no status and no past. This may be exciting when you are young and lovely - but when you are old no one wants to know or help you. Sad but true. Help is only given to the young, who do not need it, and the old left to fend for themselves. This is Nature’s Law - the young are capable of reproduction but the Old have no purpose.

Did an absolute mammoth ride today from Charleville-Mezières all the way to near Chimay. Stopped at a shop in a small village when I saw a sign 10 to Couvin 5 to Chimay. Thought I would ask if there was anywhere to stay, as if I continued to Chimay I was adding to the distance to be covered in the morning. The shopkeeper was more than helpful, producing a booklet with hotels and chambres in. Well I ended up heading for this place at Lompret, which he said was 2km up the road but was in fact 4 - directly opposite his village and he had not asked the price when he rang them, of course when I got there and they said it was 65 it was a bit too late to argue.

Well it is lovely here but at the end I came down a bloody long hill which I have to walk back up in the morning. There is another way round the back roads to Couvin but I dare not take it as I do not know what the hills will be like and it could take half the day and I need to get to the ferry.

There is a bath here! I will get one then go for a beer.

I am wondering how it is that no one at home seems to realise I have turned round and am headed for home when I have been absolutely open about it? Janet asked me was I in the South of France with no other comment at all. Sara asked when I would get to my friend’s house? Diana understands it but can’t understand why I didn’t get a train to Erika’s. Boredom? Expense? Problems getting bike home. Wanted to go home.

The weather was superb today and the road to Chimay charming. When I came to a roundabout I was going to take the road back to Couvin, the one I came out on. I looked at the maps, considering heading for Chimay as I know the campsite is there, but it looked much further and I was worried about getting back. As I was about to take the Couvin road I heard Wolf ask me to take the Chimay road. I said to him that it was further, I needed to be safe and I needed to get back.

"Just look at the map" he said. I told him I already looked twice. "Please look again," he said, "I will be so disappointed if you don’t go." I knew what he was thinking. That I might see the church where we were joined in spirit. I had not seen it on the way down, probably as I had come by the wrong road. I agreed to look again. Then I saw it was no further, and decided to do it.

I did find the church, I knew it when I saw it and it had benches outside and so I had lunch there. It was locked but that did not matter. A short time after leaving I knew it had been the right one as I passed the frontier post, disused now. It had been the last church before leaving France.

I think I just had my first politically correct bath. The taps were temperature controlled and would not go above 40 - well whatever that was it was tepid. I had a SCALDING hot shower in Charleville-Mezières but this was dismal. It must be arranged so you cannot sue the proprietor for scalding you. Fuckin ell!

When you are a witch you can count on nothing - you must never assume. You cannot say "Now I will get the train" - anything could happen. Always remember who is in charge - the Gods. Always request.

So now I am in the train at Couvin. It will depart at 10.34 and arrive Charleroi 11.26 then I have possibility of train at 11.37 to Brussels but Charleroi station is difficult. Will I make the connection. Don’t know.

Don’t know much. Don’t seem to have got any thinner. Maybe the high Cake intake. No veges or fibre results in squashy poo. Last night a horrible experience. Idyllic setting but they were obviously in it for the money - felt it was a cash cow for them - and by breakfast time realised they did not even enjoy it. That woman’s face never cracked. Last night she never asked if I wanted a tea or a coffee and when I had unpacked and had my tepid bath she had locked up and gone! No one there. This morning saw bottles of Polish fruit juice from Lidls and sliced cheese and cheap salami obviously from same place. If you're going to charge these prices then for heavens sake give good quality. Four croissants sitting on a dish! They actually expected paying 1.50E for a packet of crisps left in the bedroom - had eaten them before finding a price list! Anyway did not pay. It all stank of money but in the most awful way. Only time she looked at all happy was when she told me if I had said the night before, her husband could have given me a lift to Couvin but now he had gone! I said, C’est la vie, Madame, c’est la vie!

Anyway a curse on their poxy hotel and may they fail at it, they do not deserve it. When I told her the room key was faulty and I had a job to get out, she just stared at me and said "I will try it". There was no concern, no apology. She returned and predictably said there was nothing wrong with it. When actually this morning was worse than last night. Well wait till someone gets locked in. When I said they had gone last night when I wanted to ask her advice about the way back and get her to phone the ferry, she said, "We cannot be here all the time." Oh no? why not? They should be. They obviously hate it. They want the money but not the bother.

Sara texted that she read her poems to an audience. Wish I had been there. Next time I will.

Met a very interesting young man on the first train who asked to speak English with me. He told me he had been training to be an English teacher but gave it up after two years to do design. He now does eco-design. We talked about wind power - he says inefficient and you need too many. Wave he says kills the fish especially migrating species. He says solar is the way. Told him about electric bike with solar panels. He had not heard of it. He says solar power is not yet perfected, it cannot be stored for long periods and it can be too strong and burn out circuits. On the subject of roads he said he had been knocked off his bike by a car which caught his handlebars. He went down at the side of the road, actually IN the road, unable to get up. Car did not stop! Then other cars came up, saw him as an obstruction, slowed down and went round him! After five mins a car stopped to help him, took him to hospital. Unbelievable! as Gordon would say. As he had asked me the favour of speaking English, I asked him if in return he would help me with the bike at Charleroi and help me find the Brussels train. Which with his excellent help I did.

Some Weirdo just got on and sat near me. I think the man opposite is his mate. Hope they do not plan to rob me.

I have two hats - in one I look like a demented Lesbian, in the other like Farmer Giles. I chose the Lesbian persona and put the Farmer away. The Lesbian is a jolly good hat from Matalan last year - white cotton, washes a treat and has a kind of squeeze effect in the brim, so that even a strong rush downhill does not dislodge it - just pull it further down over the eyes and it stays. The Farmer Giles Boundary Mill one is a washout - it was supposed to be a Explorer hat. First it had a daft mosquito veil (for going up the Amazon I presume) which I cut off as you had to wear it packed on the top of your head. Admittedly it is waterproof but the brim is not stiff so blows up in any kind of light breeze - hopeless as a sun shade. The brim has a wire in the outer extremity, resulting in all kinds of strange shapes and angles after being squashed up into a small space. I hate it! Ten quid down the drain really.

Think this one takes half an hour. 

THANK YOU GODS THANK YOU GODS THANK YOU GODS FOR PRAYERS ANSWERED BLESSINGS RECEIVED

Why do old men have to have Harley Davidsons? - or nearest equivalent they can afford. Poor sods it must make up for lost virility. There was a queue of them at the ferry. I wasn’t aware of the phenomenon until joining Plenty Offish. So many of them put on pics of their bikes - you can hardly make out what the bloke is like as the bike seems to be the main thing on offer. One guy wrote me he had one. I said, bring the Harley Davidson here and I will fuck it immediately. But when he arrived he had no chin. I am awful BUT and I know at my age I am supposed to be grateful for anything but I still prefer them beautiful or at least with STYLE. H-D syndrome does not make up for having no chin. My problem is if there is an imperfection my head is constantly trying to right it. I could never live with it.

While we are on about Offish profiles - what cheeses me off - men with kids on their knee - especially babies! IT LOOKS SO SICK! Also those who say they are "very clean" - I mean, CLEAN is NORMAL for God’s sake! If you think being clean is a virtue then it seems like you have to make an EFFORT to be clean and so probably you are NOT. Also those who think their grandchildren are a hobby - UGH!! Now men with Dogs I like. And show us a fuckin Ferrari for a change - I’m sick of these motor bikes!

Oh yes, my ad says - Wildly improvident, impecunious Grasshopper seeks industrious Ant in order to destroy fortune.

Once at an interview I was asked "and where do you see yourself in five years time?" Ask a bloody stupid question I thought. So I said, "sunning myself on a beach in the South of France after I’ve embezzled all your money". They said it was the best interview they ever had, but did not offer me the job.

Anyone asking "why do you want to work for this company?" should be told, "Because I need a bloody job - why do you work for them? For the good of your soul?"

On the boat going over I had the buffet dinner. It’s extortionate but what the hell you have to eat. You go through a sort of gate and this head waiter chap asks to see your ticket. You wonder why. Then he shows you to a table. Knowing that they shove single people out of the way I was prepared to ask for a different table, but it was not bad. However I was plagued by some kids later on as mine was a kind of addition on the end of a row.

On the way back I determined this time I would sit by the window. The head waiter showed me to the same table as before. I said I would prefer to sit by the window. He said I could not, as "we have luxury class passengers on board, and they may come in". The whole window area, three tables deep, was unoccupied. Everyone had been put to sit at the side of the food area. I pointed to a table for two by the window, and said "there is a small table. Can I sit there?" He replied that no I was not allowed to.

The table was not bad, I could see out of the window from it. I got my dinner then I started thinking. I decided to enjoy my dinner and then have some fun.

The waiters were very attentive, the whole crew seems to be Filipino - one wonders where all the British or other Europeans who used to crew ships have gone. No doubt Filipinos are cheaper. While I don’t grudge them a better life or whatever they come for, I have to ask where our young people are to get their training?

Near the end of my meal, a waiter again appeared and asked me if there was anything I would like. I replied that yes, I would like to know where to go to complain. He looked shocked, and asked what was wrong, was it the food? Or the service? I replied that the food was excellent and "you are all lovely". So he said I should go to the information desk and asked me what was wrong.

I replied that I did not see how anyone had the right to tell me that I had not paid enough to sit by a window. I said I had paid over a hundred pounds to come on this ship and I should be allowed to sit where I wanted. He said he was sorry and asked me if I knew where the information desk was. I replied no, and he told me. He was very nice. I then asked him where "Mr Smart Pants" was.

"Who, Madame?"

"Mr Smart Pants, your boss. I want a word with him before I go." I was determined to cut this character down to size. He was bigger than all the waiters, in a very smart suit and acted like a god.

"I think he is somewhere, Madame." I waited. I finished my glass of wine, and Smart Pants returned. I beckoned to him and he came over.

"See those tables there?" I said pointing to the Forbidden Zone. "I have finished my dinner now and no-one has come to sit there." He immediately became flustered.

"I can show you a list," he said, "The Chief Engineer might come in - and there are others on the list".

"I don’t care who is on your list," I said. "I have as much right as them to sit where I want. I am going to complain now, and when I come in to breakfast, I am going to sit by the window. You are operating an undercover class system here," I went on, "and that is outrageous. If you want a reserved area for luxury class passengers, then put a bloody notice up, don’t do it under cover." I made a dignified exit, leaving him blustering in the background.

I went to the information desk and said I had a complaint.

"Would you like a complaint form?"

"Certainly"

"What is it about?" Briefly I outlined the conversation in the restaurant, adding,

"You are running an undercover class system here, and that is disgusting in this day and age."

"I expect those tables were reserved," the woman said, "only luxury class passengers are allowed to reserve tables."

"Well that in itself is wrong," I said, "and they weren’t reserved. The head waiter said only that ‘they may come in’."

"They have paid extra for their cabins," she said.

"Yes, and they have got what they paid for," I said, "a better cabin. They did not pay extra for their dinner. It is not good enough and I will not put up with it. I am going to write to my MP, The Times, Radio 4’s You and Yours, and Gordon Ramsay is a correspondent of mine, and I am going to let him know about it. What do you think Gordon would say if he came in here and you said he could not sit where he wanted?"

"I don’t know, Madam," she replied, "possibly something beginning with F."

"That’s right," I said, "he would say ‘I’ve effin paid for my effin ticket and I will sit where I effin well like’, wouldn’t he?"

"Yes Madam."

"Well, be prepared for him coming in undercover."

I took the form, wrote all over it in all the boxes, regardless of what they were for. I had to take it back to get the details of the ship and the schedule and the manager’s name, but told the clerk (a different one) I wanted to send it in myself and would he give me the address. He started reading it through then asked,

"Can I make a copy of this?"

"Yes," I said, "then you can all have a laugh."

At breakfast, I was not bothered where I sat. I had had my fun the night before, and was not interested in taking the matter further. I had got quite friendly with Brian Lirazan, the waiter, when he had returned with a paper carnation he had made out of a serviette. I was touched and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked. "It’s perfectly lovely."

"On another cruise ship, a long time ago, Madame," he replied. I asked him about his job and his family, his face clouding over when he spoke of home. He does six months on the ship and then can go home for two. He was counting off the months, telling me he had done three.

"And how long will you go on doing this, Brian?" I asked him.

"Madame, I already did it thirteen years." He had three children, the eldest fifteen. So they had never known what it was to have a full time father. It is sad that people are forced to live like this.

I told him I will put him and his lovely rose on my web page, but alas, it got squashed in transit.

Brian, thanks, you are lovely.

Docked at Hull, smooth journey to Skipton, ride from there nearly killed me. In end I went onto canal at Foulridge and riding along came across Libby, wheeling the two youngest kids in a push chair like the kind of thing you attach to a bike. She was thrilled to see me back off the trip, and I was happy that she was the first person I saw on my return.

Went to Sara’s in Colne for my homecoming dinner. She had done wonderful things to the room, and invited a musician along to play his guitar. Good effort with the meal, amazing decor in her new dining room, and Seth made a brilliant table from pieces of a four poster bed. All in all a very special evening, which gave rise to a poem later.