Zurück nach Österreich (Back to Austria)

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Zurück nach Österreich (Back to Austria)
Sunday, 15th - Wednesday 18th September 2026.

Summary: 

Back on the Bavarian trail, we headed straight from Munich airport to Innsbruck in Austria, my first overseas destination when I was just a twelve year old schoolboy.

Back to Munich and straight on to Innsbruck. (Sunday, 15th September)

At the airport we had the strange experience of being interrogated about "vy are you coming to Germany?" Never had that before.

Once through passport control we expertly took the S-Bahn back to the Hauptbanhof. On the train I learned about some serious flooding that had hit parts of Poland, Czech Republic and Austria. "Storm Boris" (bloody Russians again) was causing havoc and there were reports of heavy snow in the Tyrol... our next destination. I wrote to the hotel asking them if there was anything to worry about.

At the main station we bought another train ticket to Innsbruck. Untypically for the German stereotype, the train was twenty minutes late. But at least it gave time for the hotel to write back. Nothing to worry about.

Once the train arrived and we chambered on, it was a very smooth journey of an hour and a half with excellent WiFi.

We arrived in a quite cold Innsbruck and found our hotel right in the center. As Leb settled in I nipped out to get two teas and a kebab.

So ended a very long and quite tedious travelling day. Not the best, shall we say, but even this long tiring day of travel with five changes, was special because I got to spend another day with my most special partner.

I am so lucky.

Rainy day in Innsbruck. (Monday, 16th September)

Day 192 (50 to go)

Although storm Boris seems to have largely avoided Innsbruck we nevertheless had a cold and wet day here today.

After a good lie in we did a laundry run to Bubblepoint around the corner. Pretty easy to operate machines and not too pricy either.

We had Balkan-style bürek for brekkie as we waited for the wash and had a walk to the old town while it dried.

One guy was using the laundrette as a warm dry place to have a fag and listen to his music, much to the annoyance of a local lady who had no qualms about confronting him about his behaviour. He went outside to smoke until she finished but came back in again afterwards.

With a set of nice clean clothes we had a flask of tea while we waited for the rain to abate.

Eventually, we thought 'sod it' and headed out again into the cold wet afternoon. To be honest it wasn't raining heavily just "spitty spotty" as that guy on Sky News used to say.

We headed to the old town. Leb went into the Swarowski store to see the sparkly items on sale. Some ridiculously priced, others perhaps not. We then reached the Imperial Palace (Hofburg) but it was about to close. Next, we walked to the St Jakob Cathedral which was so beatifully ornate inside.

Next was the Goldenes Dachl (Golden roof) building, another imperial extravagance.

We went to see the dangerously fast flowing river Inn with its impressive alpine backdrop before it was time for a beer. We went to the Goldener Adler, one of the oldest hotels in the city before making the short journey to the Weisses Rõssl for a lovely traditional Tyrolean meal. I had Tiroler Gröstl, Leb had soup of the day. For pudding we were going to have appelstrudel but the bubbly waitress said "No. You must have have Kaiserschmarrn" It was apparently the favourite of the kaiser.

This is how ChatGPT describes it: It’s a light, fluffy, shredded pancake made from a sweet batter that includes flour, eggs, sugar, and milk. After being fried, it's torn into pieces, dusted with powdered sugar, and typically served with plum compote.

It was indeed absolutely divine!

The forecast for the next day was brighter so we planned to explore more.

Sunny day in the Tyrolean Alps. (Tuesday, 17th September)

Day 193 (49 to go) ~

The forecast today was overcast but with no rain so the plan was to take a trip up into the mountains.

My first visit abroad was here to Innsbruck 52 years ago (actually to the nearby village of Rinn) and I had hoped to retrace those steps as well as see the mountains via a cable car.

Ashfield Comprehensive School organised a skiing holiday for its pupils back in 1972 and I was one of the lucky ones to go. I have fond memories of learning very basic skiing techniques on the baby slopes ("snow plough!"). I loved the very cozy aprés ski where we were even allowed a slightly alcoholic cider on the last night. I met my first pen pal from Surrey on that trip. My favourite teacher, Mr Scholey and another influential one, Mr Tomlinson, were both there too, as were a few "star" older boys like Paul Chamberlain, Nigel Purdy and Dumicz (don't remember his first name). Two of our small group of Kirkby explorers broke legs in the first few days. It was a memorable trip and I wanted to see if I could retrace a few steps but looking on Google maps I couldn't see anything even vaguely familiar so we decided not to bother and try to go up the fancy cable car instead.

The hotel very kindly gave us a welcome to Innsbruck card. Because we were staying more than two days we got the "plus" version which entitled us to free public transport, admission to some museums and some other discounts. Leb checked on line and this seemed to include a great trip to "the top of Innsbruck" via a train and cable car, value €50. Bargain. So that was what we set off for.

First brekkie though, and instead of overdoing it again with bready Balkan Bürek, this time I just had two boiled eggs, a coffee and a shared poppy seed pastry.

We then strolled back down to the old town to catch the train to the mountain. Unfortunately our Innsbruck Welcome Plus Card was not accepted after all and the staff denied that it was supposed to give free access. To be fair, €50 off did seem too good to be true. So we came back to our room to do a bit more research and hatch out a plan for the rest of the day.

We decided to have some "me" time. I wanted to visit the Tivola Stadium, home of Wacker Innsbruck. Leb wanted to visit the Imperial Palace. So I went one way, she the other, to meet again at 2pm.

I walked past the train station and over a bridge towards the stadium. I must say it was much more modern than I had anticipated. It's a lovely compact ground that holds about 16,000 spectators, with such a magnificent backdrop.

I caught the M bus back to the city center and met Leb at the designated meeting place.

We then went to the city tower. For just €3 we were allowed to clamber up the very impressive double helix of a staircase. One flight going up whilst the other, simultaneously, goes down. The view from the top was even more spectacular than we'd hoped.

After that we walked through the Hofgarten and stopped for some bratwurst and beer before crossing a footbridge over the Inn and back down the other side.

We decided to go for another free cable car offer and so set off to Mutters the village it was supposed to leave from. The No 404 bus took us from Innsbruck to the village of Götzens where we immediately caught another bus, the 405, to Mutters. When we got off we set about finding the chair lift. This turned out to be more difficult than we thought and after climbing a steep hill and having asked the second person for help we were told it actually closed at 4pm. Too late.

Oh well. So much for that idea. We strolled back down and around the beautiful village of Mutters which was very much like I remember Rinn and we had a beer at the Santa Lucia Cafe before taking the tram through the windy track through breathtaking scenery back down to Innsbruck.

The last stop of the day was the fine old restaurant, Stiftskeller. We had a wheat beer with the magnificent pork, sauerkraut and käsespätzle (macaroni cheese) with apple strudel for afters. Sehr Lecker! Wie meine mutter gemacht hat.

So after a frustrating start to the day which looked like it would be disappointing, it all ended a sparkling success again.

Wunderbar. Wunderbar. Wunderbar!

From one alpine picture postcard to another. (Wednesday, 18th September)

Day 194 (48 to go) ~ From one alpine picture postcard to another.

Three nights in Innsbruck weren't enough of course but that's been true of pretty much everywhere. Still, during the planning phase, when I asked ChatGTP to suggest a route from Innsbruck to Lindau on the edge of Bodensee, it did not disappoint: Garmish-Partenkirken then Füssen.

We've got this moving routine "off pat" by now. We're like two members of the SAS. So efficient. Get up pretty early. Pack bags within twenty minutes. Check out of hotel. Ten minute walk to the Hauptbanhof. Find a ticket machine. Pay the €35 fare for both of us. Buy a cob for lunch. Find platform 21. Get on the train. Relax.

The train ride was one of the best ever. So smooth. Such endless beautiful views. The carriage looked brand new and even though the windows were clean already, a staff member came through the carriage cleaning them again before we left, just in case.

Within an hour and a half we were approaching our next destination, Garmish-Partenkirken (or GaPa for short) past the strangely enticing Wank Mountain.

It was quite a long walk from the station to the guest house but we received a very warm welcome when we arrived. A nice cold beer, our welcome card for free public transport and lots of good advice on what to do. Our room is comfy enough and has a glorious view of the mountains.

Angela (as I assume the owner is called) recommended we take the train and cable car to the top of Zugspitze (the highest peak in Germany... technically true, but only 50m from the border with Austria) one day but the price of €72 each seems a bit steep to say the least. We booked two return flights to Morocco today for the same amount. We'll see.

She also recommended the walk we spent the first afternoon here doing: A gentle (and of course free) walk through the stunning Bavarian countryside facing Zugspitze and its brother Alpspitze. The scenery is simply gorgeous with the charming sound of bells dangling from grazing goats and cows.

The only disappointment for me was that a restaurant at the far end of the circular walk (a beer in which had acted as a distinct carrot as I walked up some of the steeper slopes) was closed. Honestly, they had the beer garden from heaven. Maybe Friday?

Anyway coming back down was easier than going up and having returned to the valley, I couldn't resist popping into the stadium of 1FC Garmish-Partenkirken: Stunning backdrop, Shame about the running track.

They play in the South East Bavarian Landesliga which I think puts them at the 6th tier of German football. Think of clubs like Scunthorpe United, Chester and Hereford United. (I know you are!) The English pyramid is simply the strongest in the world. Clubs like these would love the scenery but they'd actually sneer at the stadium and the crowds GaPa get.

Anyway then we crossed the scarily fast flowing Loisach River to stroll through the cute town centre to choose somewhere to eat. Some of the Bavarian cottages here look like they've been painted. Every flower in the right spot. Hedges that look like they've been trimmed with nail clippers. This part of the world is a bit pricey for visitors from Australia though, especially ones on a long tour budget, so we satisfied ourselves with a burger (for me) and a salad (for me darlin')

So ended yet another fantastic day. It's forecast to be even warmer tomorrow but with more cloud cover. More walking. Wank comes to mind.

Back to Blighty for a Schengen Break

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Back to Blighty
Tuesday, 10th - Sunday, 15th September 2026.

Summary: 

Our Euro-Schengen misunderstanding caused us plenty need to alter our original planned route and make a number of diversions. five day break in blighty was one of them. The nice, smooth, journey plan was Prague to Nuremburg to Munich to Innsbruck to Garmisch-Paternkirchen to Neuschwanstein to Lake Konstanz to Basel... But then, we had a Schengen panic attack - Maybe we'll get arrested in Amsterdam for exceeding the visa and banned from travelling in the EU! Sounds silly now, but that was the fear. So, to make absolutely sure we didn't exceed the 90 day limit, we dissected the trip and inserted a five day spell somewhere that was not in the Schengen zone. Where to go? Somewhere we love. Somewhere not too far away from Munich. It had to be London, right?

It was a gentle few days really, with me spending most of my time in pubs or at football matches with mates, while Leb visited her gravely ill friend Toots and spent time with another dear old friend, Many. We overlapped on one day, when Tina and Jan kindly came over to London to spend a day with us. All very nice.

Back to Blighty for Harry Kane's 100th Cap. (Tuesday, 10th September)

The flight from Munich was pretty uneventful and soon enough we arrived in typically grey and colder Gatwick. At least it wasn't raining. Train to Clapham Junction and then onto Kew Bridge and our 66th accommodation at the Travelodge there.

After a wonderful relax it was time for me to set off again. Strangely, the idea of going to Wembley to watch the UEFA Nations League Group B tie between England and Finland didn't appeal to my darling, so I caught thr 267 bus on my own. A quick change to the 440 and I was excited as an eight year old on Christmas morning. Two and a half hours before kick off, plenty time to find a good old British Fish and Chip shop and a decent pub near the Mecca of tootball, and then take my seat in time to watch the beautiful Finnish national anthem (and, ok, if we have to, the most dreadful English one.)

Almost immediately a few Finns got on the bus including one guy who had flown from Luxembourg this morning to be here. I couldn't help pointing out that I could beat that!

What could possibly go wrong?

London rush hour traffic.

One and a half hours later the bus was stopping and starting, rolling a few metres, and then stopping again as we crawled towards the north circular road.

Sod it.

Time to get off and walk. With about an hour to go before kick off, I strode off into the increasing drizzle towards the beckoning sight of that amazing Wembley arch. I passed scores of kebab places, curry houses, pizza parlours but not one proper chippy. I did pass a couple of pubs that looked half decent but I was determined not to miss "Maamme" the national anthem of Finland.

Beer could wait.

As I got closer, the rush of a big crowd got ever greater. It's one of life's great pleasures, I think, to attend a big match and even though many are cynical and skeptical about the UEFA Nations League, the match still attracted over 70,000 fans.

I took my seat high in the heavens of the magnificent new Wembley Stadium (it is still new to me anyway) just two rows from the very back near the half way line.

Maamme did not disappoint and soon Harry Kane's 100th appearance for England was under way.

Predictably, Finland parked two buses, hoping to keep the score respectable and they succeeded.

England, to be fair, always looked dangerous and Grealish and Gordon were constant threats down the left. Finland managed to create a couple of chances too, keeping it interesting. Harry Kane had a goal ruled out for off side so the teams went in at half time with the score 0-0. It frustrated me that so many fans seemed so bored that they started making and throwing paper airplanes. When one or two landed on the pitch, they got a roar as big as some of the nice interplay England were doing on the pitch.

Anyway, after a disgusting "chicken tenders and chips" ($19 aud) and a decent pale ale ($15 aud), I climbed back up the mountain to my seat in the gods for the second half. Kane got the great goal that he deserved, and then another, to give England a comfortable 2-0 win to top the group. (We are going up... I said wearegoingup!)

Walking back through the massive crowd I bumped into some Finland fans and congratulated their team on a strong performance, their country on joining NATO ("we know a bit about Russia" they said) and their lovely, lovely anthem.

When I got back to the 440 bus stop I met the other Finnish guy who I'd met earlier. He'd been waiting ten minutes already and eventually decided to catch the No 18 instead. This bus was going to Euston so not for me. After waiting 40 minutes, another three 18s went past another couple of 92s but not one 440. Damn.

Earlier, I did pass by the the Wembley train station but the queue was huge and, in any case, heading to Central London not Kew. So that wasn't really an option.

Struggling to remember as much of the London transport system as I could (no mobile SIM this time) I decided to walk back as far as I could until I saw one of the "every twenty minutes" 440s the bus stop schedule promised.

Eventually I saw one speed off into the the distance as I turned the corner by Stonebridge Park station. I decided to go into the station and ask for advice. It was here that I found the answer to the missing 440 mystery: Apparently they sometimes change the route when there's a big match at Wembley. If only I'd known that an hour earlier. Anyway, the very helpful lady recommended me to "take the train to Willesden Junction and change to the overground service to Gunnersbury and then walk from there." I followed these wise words and finally got back here at 12:30, cold (wearing four layers) and with aching feet.

... And that's why I luv football!!

Having just woken up the next morning to a nice sunny day, we listened to the Trump/Harris debate with horror. As usual the orange-faced crooktraitor just lied without push back, butted in at will and the so-called moderators did nothing and, truth be told, neither did Harris.

One example... for two minutes Trump was given the floor to rant on about how Victor Orban thinks he's great but no-one made the point that he's one of the two leaders in the EU who are Putin poodles and wannabe dictators like Trump. Having just been to Dachau and seen the result of one lying psychopath, the last thing we needed was to see another on his way to power.

Suddenly depressed again by this and by how bloody expensive London is. $50 aud to go to and from Wembley from Kew last night... 5.8 miles away.

Mood Rebound after Gloomy Trump start. (Wednesday, 11th September)

Day 187 ~ Another great day after gloomy start.

I really, REALLY, hate Donald Trump. The fact that the most obvious con man in American history (and there's plenty of competition) was even a candidate in 2016, won, and is now a candidate again just makes me sick. How anyone can think this orange-faced crook would be good to elect for *anything* let alone the leader of the free world, is astonishing enough and a daily gift to Putin, but that there are 80m of them makes me despair. Having just seen what Hitler did in Panerai, Lithuania and Dachau, in Germany, I fear what's coming around the corner.

So when we started the day listening to the Trump/Harris debate I was hoping, indeed expecting, that she (the prosecutor) would tear him apart and expose his lies. Not only did that not happen but to our eyes and ears it was the Putin poodle crooktraitor who seemed dominant and confident. The ABC moderators seemed to give him far too much time and rarely stopped his ranting.

When it ended we both felt very gloomy.

So we set off in the sunshine looking for something to cheer us up. A riverside walk through Waterman Park certainly set us off in the right direction and a good old hearty full English breakfast at the One over the Ait helped enormously.

We then set off to Hammersmith, walking up Chiswick High Road to Gunnersbury Tube Station where we asked about the best public transport options for a short stay in London. The guy was brilliant in assuring us that simply contact less credit card payments are the way to go. We believed him anyway, so our mood improved still more.

Then, I popped into a barber's to unkoalaise my hair. Mood better still.

Then I caught up with Leb in Primark where we bought some replacement clothes. Four T-shirts, four pairs of undies, four pairs of socks worn in rotation over six months takes its toll and it was time for a new set. Also the days of 35+C in the Mediterranean are definitely over so it was time to buy a new jumper too. All for £25. Bargain. And more mood upswing points.

My boots have been falling apart since Stroud but I've been putting off buying a new pair because a) most places I saw were charging way too much and b) none of them were similar to my current (smart but robust) pair. Then Leb suggested we take a look in good old Clarke's and there they were... the new pair of my dreams.

Mood+

Next, after buying some mouth wash that I needed we headed down to Hammersmith Bridge and the Blue Anchor pub where we'd be having a few beers the following Friday evening with anyone who was free to join us. Mood ++

Then just along the river to a gem of a classic old pub, The Dove, for a lovely pint of Fullers.

Mood +++

And a bit further to another, the Old Ship ++++.

We then headed back to Hammersmith's King Street where we visited POSK (The Polish Social and Cultural Association), embarrassingly for the first time. We spent some time.in their wonderful exhibition on the Warsaw Uprising and then went upstairs to the bar for a delicious glass of wysznowka. ++++++ (for the tipple, not the exhibition about the atrocities carried out on Warsaw, of course.)

Then, at last, fish and chips. And... What The Fish!!! WTF restaurant served perhaps the best haddock/cod and chips I've ever had. Certainly in the top 1% anyway.

By now I was literally as happy as Larry (Mood +++++++++) and as we caught the 267 bus home and I didn't have to walk any more, I ended the day on cloud 9.

Donald who!?

Meeting old friends and relies in London. (Thursday, 12th September)

Day 188.

After a good long lie in we caught the 267 to Hammersmith and then the 9 to Kensington Gardens to Côte, a nice restaurant chain Tina and Jan recommended. They have very good gluten-free options. I had spicy tomato soup starter, sea bass mains and cheese board for afters. Leb had salad, baked ratatouille and cherry pancakes. Yum.

It was so kind that they came all the way from Stroud just to see us and we had a good five hours catching up about all that had happened since we last saw them at The Birches at the England/Wales border (where Elaine Morgan started her writing career.)

After dinner we had a lovely walk through Kensington Gardens. I was embarrassed again that I was taking a close look at Kensington Palace and the Albert Memorial for the first time. It's amazing how you take so much for granted when you live somewhere. We'd lived around London for 20 years but there's so much I missed. Of course, the Diana, Princess of Wales memorial fountain didn't exist back then so at least I have an excuse there. I have to admit, though, I wasn't very impressed with it. It seemed a bit empty and hollow to me. Anyway after a long chatty coffee at the Lido Cafe we headed off on our separate ways.

Kensington Park is quite close to the Ukrainian club so I persuaded Leb that we should go to Bayswater Road and catch a bus past the "Russian" Embassy (another opportunity to stick two fingers up at Putin's kleptofascists) and down to their sweet club on Holland Park Avenue. When we arrived it appeared closed but the doors soon opened and we were able to go in have a quick Piana Vyshnia (cherry liqueur) and say "дякую! Слава Україні!" and then head off to our next rendezvous in the East End.

The Central line train from Holland Park to Bethnall Green (pronounced "Befnəw Gween") took about half an hour so we arrived about ten minutes early. We emerged in the East End and tried to find some WiFi to check messages. I popped into the old Salmon & Ball but was quickly told "no WiFi here, sorry" so we hovered next door outside Starbucks where there was a signal. "Meet downstairs in the tube station by the ticket office" was the latest message.

As we read this, some poor woman, sat on the side of the pavement next to the wall near us was having a right ol barney with someone.

"Don't look at me like that, you c@nt!" She yelled. And "Oh yeah, call the cops then."

We quickly headed back underground to wait.

Five minutes later, stood by the ticket desk, we saw a strangely familiar-looking figure walking towards us. Could it be? Does that face look like... Yes! It was Romas Kinka, a Lithuanian friend we had not seen in over 30 years.

Romas is the guru of all things Lithuanian in the UK. I first met him at Lietuvių Sodyba, in Hampshire, back in 1982 when I had just become a born-again Lithuanian. I'll never forget sitting down to eat silkės, a Lithuanian herring delicacy, with him, his wife Gailutė, and other 'elites' of the Lithuanian community. I didn't know who these people were at the time but I was still very nervous. I had made my own Lithuanian flag badge and wore it proudly on my jumper but goofed by getting the tricolour the wrong way round. (Left to right, instead of top to bottom). It was Romas who gently and sensitively pointed out my error. Oops! He asked me about my background and when I told him I had a Romanian mother he asked "why did you decide to come here and not support Romania?" I nervously suggested that I thought Lithuania needed the help more as it was, at the time, a captive nation in the USSR. At least Romania had their independence.

This seems to have impressed Romas as he reminded us about it later that evening.

Romas was a very important part of Leb and my wedding plans. He gave us lots of advice about how to weave in as many traditions as we could for that lovely day back in 1987.

During the late 1980s/early 1990s Romas was often on UK television commenting on the dramatic events going on as Lithuania took Gorbachov's ground breaking initiatives at their word. "Glasnost? - OK how about this for openness... we never wanted to join the USSR we only did so because you had a gun at our heads." And "Perestroika? - OK how about this for restructuring... we're reclaiming our Independence back ... bye!"

Lithuania were the first to break free from the Soviet empire and thus help the collapse of Communism.

Once, during those times, I even had the excruciatingly nervous responsibility of filling in for Romas on Sky news as he couldn't make it. I looked like a 16 year old.

When Lithuania regained its Independence, Romas acted as an embasador for a well oiled team run by Paul Markevicius to make arrangements for and greet the new leaders on their first visits to the UK. I was very proud to do a tiny bit there too. Anyway... although we'd written to each other many times since all these amazing events happened, it had been over 30 years since we'd actually met.

Romas is basically an intellectual giant (he's quite big physically too) and within seconds he was teaching us stuff. It's as if his brain has absorbed so much knowledge he just has to try to release as much of it as possible to anyone and everyone he meets. Those who know Charles Oxnard will know the type of person I mean. Romas is a proud East Ender and although he was born in Šiauliai, Lithuania (same as Leb's dad) and lived in Chicago for a few years, he was brought up and spent the vast majority of his 84 years in Bethnall Green. He was desperate to give us a glimpse of this to us and for an hour or so, gave us a personalised tour of the buidings surrounding the tube station.

The information effortlessly rattled off, the numerous complex anecdotes and his memory for detail, left us spinning and belied his 84 years. The home of Daniel Mendoza, the pioneering boxer, the importance of his image to Peter Sellers, was just one of many.

To hear Romas speak sounds like a university professor, but as a linguist, he can flip to any accent. He told us once, for a laugh, he had a long taxi drive and had the cab driver thinking he was a proper cockney.

The subject of how to pronounce "Klaipėda" came up. I'd always thought it started "kla" (as in claxon) but in Lithuania Paul had told us it started "clay" (as in 'clay pigeon') as he now lived there with his partner. Leb also thought this, as a woman on a Lthuanian language podcast said the same thing.

I must say I was very pleased when Romas said it should be "kla" and I was proud and embarrassed at the same time when Leb tried to argue against him. No!!! You don't argue with Romas about the Lithuanian language!

Anyway, after a few more tales about the Russian baths, boxing ring and swimming pool of York Hall, it was starting to get cold and Romas noticed Leb shivering. "So, should we eat?" "YES!"

Romas then led us to the No 8 bus stop where we caught the next one to Brick Lane and its famous rows of curry houses. City Spice gave Romas a great deal which included a free drink and 20% off. We sat down to three delicious thalis between us and a couple of glasses of red wine for me.

We spoke about many subjects from me trying to explain to Romas why I was planning to go to Brentford's stadium tomorrow (I can't describe how cringy that was!) to the Trump phenomenon and how it compares to Hitler's rise to power in Germany 1933.

It could easily have gone on all night but at about 11pm Leb noticed the time and, worried we'd get back to Hammersmith in time to catch the last 267 bus, we decided to call the evening to an end.

Romas was adamant that he would walk us to the now nearest tube station, Aldgate East, which proved more challenging than we thought as two entrances were locked and bolted and one corner of a street was closed off. We got there eventually but rather than just see us off and catch his bus home, he was determined to come down to the platform and wave us off as the train left. What a sweetie.

As Romas might have said to a cab driver..."Cor blimey, what a ruby! We're cream-crackered, but we ain't 'alf 'ad a right old rabbit. Ta very much, guv'nor, that was a proper corker!"

The drama hadn't finished though. Murphy's Law intervened and after the train stopped at some station or other, there was 15 minute delay before we were told to get off the District Line and wait for another... another 15 minutes passed by and we started to get worried.

When the train did finally arrive at Hammersmith it was midnight. We found the bus station and there were just two more 267s to run otherwise it would have been an hour and a half to walk back. Thankfully the bus came and we got back here to a nice warm bed.

Thanks to Tina and Jan and Ačiū labai to Romas!

Leb went off to see Toots. I pottered around in London. (Friday, 13th September)

Day 189 was one Leb and I largely spent apart. Leb spent the day with poor-ol' Toots, who was gravely ill by this stage. I did my usual selfish, brainless pottering around football grounds and pubs, sprinkled with fish & chips.

I got up late after Leb had got up early to catch the bus to Oxford to see Toots, past the Hoover Building.

I sauntered over to the nearby new Brentford ground which looks great on tely but on the outside looks to be in a very cramped location, penned in by the A4, the railway line and busy roads. This is in contrast with the old Griffin Park which had a pub on every corner and seemed to have lots of space around the ground.

Then I caught the 267 back towards Hammersmith where I had lovely haddock and chips again at the WTF restaurant.

With stomach suitably lined, I walked down to the river. Had a quick half in the Dove before claiming our small reserved table at The Blue Anchor, where we'd invited anyone on social media for a catch up.

First to arrive was Jonas Zilinskas, lovely fellah from the Lithuanian dance group. It was great to hear about all our Lithuanian friends but sad that since the demise of Sodyba and Lithuanian House things have fallen apart somewhat. Next was good old Jakey who shared tales of the Paris Olympics and the sort of health related stuff that inevitably needs to be discussed when you get past 60. I was looking forward to seeing him again the next day for some football.

Then Peter Petersons and Tiina Petersons and their lovely dog joined us making up representatives from all three Baltic States. It was good to hear about the Latvians and Estonians I used to know in blighty and it was exciting to hear about their plans to move to Australia soon - in Sydney.

John and Jake had to shoot off at that point but soon we were joined by the lovely Gerry Touhey. Peter and Tiina left us to reminisce about old times and, of course, football. Gerry kindly gave me a lift back.

Sadly Leb couldn't make it back as she was still near Oxford visiting her dear friend Toots.

Anyway, it was a great night. We were thinking of you then, Toots, and will always...

Franchise Derby and Richmond Green listening to Forest's historic win at Anfield with Jakey. (Saturday, 14th September)

Day 190 was a football day for me while Leb caught up with her dear friend, Mandy.

It started with me trotting off to Kew Bridge Station to catch a train to Wandsworth Town to meet Jake Holloway for a day of football and reminiscing old times.

I arrived a bit early so was able to have a nice coffee and a bacon butty. Jakey arrived early too and then we caught the bus to Plough Lane home of AFC Wimbledon. I didn't realise it was a 12:30 kick off until we saw the stands filling up already at noon.

Their opponents today were their deadly enemies Milton Keynes Dons, the club created when the owners of a previous incarnation of Wimbledon sold their souls and the club to the devil and, trying to make more money, wanted to move the club to Dublin, Ireland. The Football League wouldn't allow a move to another country so the genius greedy owners chose Milton Keynes instead. Never mind what the thousands of Wimbledon fans thought. Fans who'd supported the club from their famous non-league giant-killing days through their rise through the divisions to the Premier League and winning the FA Cup against Liverpool.

Once the move went through, MK Dons ("Dons" for WimbleDON") started to slide back down the league ladder. Meanwhile, the incredible fans back at Wimbledon formed a brand new club, but called AFC Wimbledon again, and started their rise from the ashes.

Ten years on, the reformed AFC Wimbledon are playing at their lovely new ground called the same name as it is just around the corner from their old, Plough Lane Ground, where I'd watched the original Wimbledon beat Forest in the FA Cup in the 1980s. And today they faced their nemesis, MK Dons, a club sliding towards the oblivion they deserve in a fourth tier match which nevertheless attracted almost 8,000 fans.

The hatred towards MK Dons from the Wimbledon fans was palpable and, I have to admit, somewhat justified. The reciprocated hatred from the travelling Milton Keynes fans was equally visible but unfathomable to me. I can understand why a family, who liked football living in Milton Keynes, might support them but the hostility shown to AFC Wimbledon by their 800 or so travelling fans was horribly bizarre. I personally hate them even more after this.

Anyway, justice was done and the true Dons beat "the Franchise B@stards" (who know who they are) 3-0.

Sat behind Jake and me in the second half was one of those moaning fans we all come across now and then. Ostensibly, he was a Wimbledon "fan", but everything that came out the man's mouth was vitriol against the club he purported to support.

"No! Why did he do that? CLOSE THEM DOWN! Ah this is rubbish!"

I had to bite my tongue repeatedly ("why don't you shut up, you moaning old git?" almost came out a couple of times) and when Wimbledon put the Franchise B@stards to the sword with the third goal near the end, I turned to the guy and almost started singing "you're not moaning any more!".

Thanks to Jake Holloway for getting tickets for the game and a friend of a friend of Luke who we had the pleasure to meet at half time.

After the game we headed back to Richmond and went to the lovely green there, which was the quintessential English village scene, with white shirted men intensely engaged in a cricket match.

As an added bonus for me, Jake had 5 live sports report streaming the afternoon football on his phone. The commentary match in the second half, much to my joy of course, was from Anfield, where Nottingham Forest were playing. It was 0-0 at half time, so that was good enough but then Callum Hudson-Odoi scored to put the original reds 1-0 up. I bit my nails as they clung on to win at that famous ground for the first time in 55 years. The icing on the cake was I'd actually put $2 AUD on Forest winning so, at last, I had a betting win too.

Jake told me the Ted Lasso series is based in Richmond and we saw the stores that have grown up on the back of that success before heading to the White Swan to discuss the relative dangers of global warming versus the rise of fascism over a few pints and a lovely pie.

Jake got me onto the right bus to get me back safely for my last night in Blighty before we were due to fly back to Munich the next day.

Bye Bye Blighty - Back to Bavaria (Sunday, 15th September)

Day 191 ~ Long day of travel to get back to the Central European tour.

It was great getting back to blighty for five days even if it wasn't really meant to have happened according to our original plan. It was only because of the Schengen Shenanigans that decided to spend five extra days in London. We needed to cut down our days in EU and other countries that were in Schengen to below 90, after a planning goof up by me, and I wondered "where, not too far from, Munich, is there a country I like that is not a member?.... I know... England!"

Any on this day it was time to get back to Germany to continue the originally planned journey south from Prague through Plzen and Nürnberg.

It was quite an early rise, followed by a 15 minute walk to Kew Bridge Station. After a nice coffee we got on the train to Clapham Junction and then changed to the Brighton train (where Forest play next Sunday) making absolutely sure we got off at Gatwick airport.

It's always better to be too early when catching a plane and we arrived at Gatwick about four hours before the plane was due to depart even though we'd checked in and had our boarding passes. So I had time for a pretty crappy Witherspoon's breakfast. You know... the cheapest sausages, one frazzled mushroom, two not very well cooked eggs, four over cooked hash browns, two slices of white bread and a thimble of Heinz Beans. Anyway, it filled a gap.

There are nice comfy seats at Gatwick now on which you can lie back and have a doze. Leb had a lie down whilst I had brekkie and the roles were reversed when she had a walk around afterwards.

It was time for boarding but EasyJet make that bit bloody hard. It's *Easy* for them, but not the passengers. Of course you expect to queue to board a plane but not three times which is what we had to do. The first, legitimate, line was before showing your boarding pass. But even here, one member of staff was over officious and made several passengers shove their carry-ons into the ridiculously small cage thing to prove it was below a certain size. This has to be a scam to try to get more money off passengers. The other member of staff was much more laissez-faire, making a mockery of the whole process.

Leb spotted the disparity and was very smart to notice a gap for the good guy and thus avoiding the little Hitler. My bag would never have squeezed into their cage, even though putting it into the overhead lockers on every flight so far has been like throwing a chipolata sausage into an empty room, to coin a gynecological phrase. Some passengers got on board with two carry on bags both bigger than Leb's. To say the least, it's totally random.

Anyway, once past that hurdle, everyone had to wait again (the vast majority standing) in a cramped little corner between the check in stand and the door which led down to the plane.

Eventually we were filtered and those who had paid for the privilege of "quick boarding" got to go through the door first. Their prize (woopidoo) was to wait on the stairs until the rest of us "slow boarding" cheap skates joined them. Then, finally, the doors opened and we were allowed onto the plane.

I feel I should write a strongly worded letter of complaint. How would it start ?

"Dear EasyJet... and I use that name advisedly..."

The flight itself was indeed easy and I appreciated my usual window seat as we flew over Dungeness out into the Channel and over to France and back down to Munich.

Financial Summary

London is expensive and we spent quite a bit in this phase of the journey. I guess we did a bit of shopping as well as some days eating out. With an avergae daily spend of over $580, this was the second most expensive part of the trip so far. Ouch!

Mood Summary

As always, a few days in London was a hapy time with two days making the top thirty so far. The Saturday mood score of 20-0 was the third time that had been experienced, at joint 14th. The only "bad" moods were caused by politics. The shock news that David Knowles, founder of the Ukraine the Latest Podcast had died and yet more irritation at Trump's lies.

Holiday Summary

No new countries added here of course, but we were now 70% of the way through the trip.

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