Tag Archives: travel

A Tavistock Trip

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Having ascertained that there is a regular bus service from the road near our site at Lydford, we opt to go and visit Tavistock, a Dartmoor town with some quaint features. The heatwave has continued apace and, having reached the bus stop [an achievement in itself] I’m glad to see there’s a shelter. Inside the stone shelter there are two windows, which is fancy, but no proper seating- only one of those perching planks. This strikes me as odd.

Although the shelter is on a steep bank, when the bus turns up [on time!], the lowered entrance is in the exact position level with it, which is impressive. I/m starting to notice these things.

The bus winds through the villages and up over some of the moor before getting to Tavistock. We get off at what looks like the centre, opposite the church. Here, most of the buildings are grey stone, including a huge, posh hotel. Across the road there’s a market entrance, flanked by a beautiful plant stall, which I peruse while Husband queues up for an ice cream.

The market is impressive, some outside and a lot inside a vast, stone market hall. I’m taken with the hat stall [I love a hat] and Husband [in the manner of husbands] is drawn to the tools, where he buys some screws for a van job. We wander a bit more until the hip protests, then Husband leaves me on a bench to explore a bit more until the bus comes, although there’s not a huge lot more to Tavistock.

The cab to the pub is booked. At the appointed time, we go to the site gate and it’s there- with a lady driver who turns out to be very lovely. When we chat about my dodgy hip she confesses to have had a replacement hip joint and assures me that ‘I would never regret it’ even though I haven’t actually been offered a new hip.

The pub, [The Dartmoor Inn] is lovely and rustic and has a great menu. We’ve allowed two hours and, sure enough, our lady driver is there to collect us. It’s a family firm, with her husband and son also taxi drivers.

On day two we’re going to Lydford Gorge, which is just up the road but we’ll still need the bus, which can drop us at one of the two entrances; one for the waterfall and one for the ‘Devil’s Cauldron’. We’re heading first to the waterfall and I’ll need to ascertain how difficult the walk down is. Having chatted to the National Trust lady I determine that I can get down and up, although Husband remains sceptical.

There’s a small cafe at the entrance, where we’d expected to get lunch. The only offerins, however are sandwiches or a pasty. We get pasties and sit outside on a rickety bench [it’s still very hot] where I share my pasty with a scruffy robin.

We set off down the slope. And inevitably, we get so far and it begins to be clear it will be too challenging for dodgy hips. Goodness! This is the easier of the two walks! We sit and have a conflab, with Husband urging me to abort and finally convincing me. I pass him my camera and prepare to go back up, which is a little easier than the descent. It’s bitterly disappointing…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Fingers Crossed for a Van Jaunt

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We return home from Crete. The weather at home cranks up into heatwave mode. We get busy unpacking plus preparing for my visiting Offspring 2 and Grand-offspring 3, coming for a weekend. During this time, the jab I’ve had administered as a temporary measure to get me mobile, wears off- sadly, having been successful for all of one month. Nevertheless I decide to cope and hobble about the best I can- which I do. And it’s delightful to able to introduce my newest grandchild to the joys of the seaside and the discoveries of the garden because she’s only visited in the winter months before.

Once they’ve returned, we turn our thoughts towards another trip. I’ve resolved to make the best of my lack of mobility. We need to make a ‘tryout’ trip, following the depressing debacle of our last year’s French jaunt: [https://gracelessageing.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=8132&action=edit]. We’ve done what we could to ensure there will be no problems this time, by getting the garage to give the van a health check. But you never know!

For the tryout, we’re sticking to the UK and we fancy a visit to Cornwall, where we haven’t been for a long time. The heatwave has continued. We prep the van with our lightest bedding and stock the fridge with salad items, although we’ll eat out when opportunities crop up of course!

Cornwall is the most south westerly corner of the UK and should, by rights, have a mild and pleasant climate, although these days we can no longer expect weather to be predictable. We’re not travelling to Cornwall in one journey but will break it up by stopping over in Devon, which is between our county, Dorset and our destination. We’ll spend a couple of nights at Lydford, where there is a wonderful gorge, tended by the National Trust.

It’s a long, hot journey and in a reminder that our van is wearing out along with myself, the air-con has given up the ghost. This is not life threatening, however, as we can cope with the windows down and slugs of water along the way.

The site at Lydford is good, although sites in general have become much more expensive now. It’s still hot when we arrive and we’re led to a pitch quite a way from the showers etc but we do have a patch of much needed shade. There are only a few others- a Dutch motorhome with multiple dogs, a German motorhome and a couple of others. We’re on Dartmoor, an iconic part of Devon, and will be able to get a bus from the end of the road.

Once we’re installed, Husband goes for a reccy, to see how far the village is and where there might be a likely pub, which is not all that much of a chore for him because pubs are some of his favourite places! The good news is that there are two. The bad news is that I’m unlikely to get to either of them. Husband looks smug. He spotted a taxi service in the village. One of the pubs looks nicer than the other and is a little further away so a taxi is the answer. Sorted!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Open Top Ending

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Isn’t it strange how a holiday trickles along until half way and then gushes away in a flood as the last day approaches? But we appear to have done most things in Chania now, except for a carriage ride [which hardly seems worth the money and the horses are bad tempered] or a boat trip. We’ve looked at the boat excursions, but most look to involve going out- leaping into unknown waters and returning, rather than visiting anything. I’ve written about my lack of enthusiasm for swimming before…

There is, of course, a ‘glass-bottomed’ boat, also a small submarine, nether of which appeals to us.

There is, though, something we haven’t done. From our car park view balcony we’d watched as a double decker bus became marooned before the road junction, hemmed in by parked cars. Frantic passengers leaped out to make suggestions and give directions; Americans anxious that their cruise ship- moored by the quay and threatening to leave, would abandon them. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t an open-top bus because it had a roof, although the windows are glassless.

I spotted the stop where the bus starts on an earlier walk. An open-top bus trip would be a great way to spend some of our last afternoon and we may get to see things we’ve missed. There’s no timetable for the bus- which makes things tricky- so it’s a case of wandering along to the stop and taking pot luck. And we do get lucky, because as we approach the stop we see the bus there waiting. There’s about half an hour until it’s due to begin, which is fine since it’s cool and shady on the upper deck. Husband goes off in search of an ice cream but returns empty handed.

Then we’re underway, the first few streets uninspiring- past building sites we’ve seen previously. Instead I become fascinated by the Chinese couple in front of us as she has a habit of tweaking his ear when he is cheeky to her. She is also wearing some very flamboyant footwear- yellow Crocs adorned with bunches of flowers.

After a few minutes the bus leaves the shopping streets and travels beyond the town and up into the hills, which affords us brilliant views as it ascends. The higher we climb, the cooler it becomes and there are some expensive looking properties up towards the top, nestling in shady undergrowth.

The bus zig-zags down the other side towards a bay housing a cruise terminal then enters it. A smallish ship is moored there and most of the bus passengers [including the Chinese couple] disembark and make for their ship. We head back towards town, past a commercial area with, of all things, an IKEA!

Soon we’re back in familiar territory- the park, the redundant market hall and returning to our stop.

For a last evening, we go to the harbour and settle outside a lovely looking restaurant to have Greek salad followed by kebabs- all far too much, of course, then it’s back to the hotel for a last drink.

Goodbye to Chania and Crete. It was all lovely except, perhaps for the hotel…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Winding Down

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After a couple of days of cold and gales, I wake, pull the curtain and the sky has returned from iron grey and angry to blue dotted with fluffy clouds. Crete’s weather has regained its sunshine and we can go back to our routine of late, leisurely breakfast, read in the sunshine, walk, coffee, relax, drink, dinner. Except that we’ll leave out the read as it isn’t quite unbroken sun yet and everywhere is puddled and damp from the previous night’s storm.

Walking out, it’s a novelty to see how green and verdant the parks and gardens are. There’s a park on the way to new town, shady and pleasant with fountains and statues.

Each time we walk in Chania, we find different streets and pathways we haven’t travelled before- an intricate network of narrow lanes housing gift shops and cafes, tables squeezed outside in spite of the narrowness.

During this time, I’m capitalising on a temporary measure that’s allowing me to walk pain-free, whilst being aware that the chance to walk is finite, but it’s a treat to be able to wander freely like this. So we go further around the bay and as far as the larger of Chania’s two beaches, passing a huge building site as new developments of hotels or apartments with sea views rise up. The coastline is rocky between beaches and there are stretches of wildflowers plus one or two bizarre statues and shrines.

When we arrive to the beach, the seafront bars are busy with lunches but we’re able to get a drink and sit in the breezy sunshine. There are a few striped huts for changing and some rows of sunbeds. Returning through the old town, I’m struck how people have created shady courtyard gardens from the tiniest of spaces. One street has some ancient Minoan ruins, partially excavated, where we stop to look, wooed by a friendly [for once] feral cat, winding itself round our legs but unwilling to pose for photos.

Growing wild along the streets, nasturtiums cascade down from slopes and walls in a riot of colour and prickly pears are already sprouting pinkish fruits. While I know them to be delicious when carved up, I’m unwilling to pick any, having attempted to on previous occasions and experienced their brutal spines.

Throughout the day, horse and carriage rides continue, the horse clopping round on the cobbles and running the gauntlet of traffic jams which build up as the day wears on. The horses look glossy and well cared for but one I try to make friends with bares his teeth at me in a menacing way and I back off!

We’re past the half way point and heading down towards the last days. In the evening we go to the quayside and find another restaurant, where I cannot resist yet another Greek salad. The meals here are huge- a starter alone is generally enough. We are now familiar with this place and seem to have done most things, but we might yet get to see something new…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Cold Crete

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We’ve got into a routine by the end of three days: lazy start, late breakfast, read in the early sunshine, midday saunter into town to get a coffee, longer walk, return for later afternoon sun, out for an early evening drink followed by a search for somewhere we fancy eating. We can go close- to the bars and restaurants near our hotel, or wander further to Venetian Harbour, where the wide sweep of the quay is fringed by restaurants. In addition to this, there are many, many more places lining the network of lanes behind the harbour.

On day four though, I wake and twitch the curtain to see a gloomy, cloudy sky, also it isn’t warm. Horrors! Our entire routine is founded on warm sunshine- heat, even. Hmm…

It’s not raining however, so we can still walk if we wrap up. We skip the post breakfast read and set off. If we turn left out of our hotel instead of right, the road takes us straight into the modern centre of Chania, a big contrast to the old town of course. We use our map, provided by the hotel reception. The main road passes a grand, if not old, building set back behind the tourist information booth [firmly closed, boarded up and fenced]. This, then, is the market. There’s nothing to explain its closure. I’m disappointed. I enjoy looking round a market, especially in a different country.

We plough on. It’s quite an extensive shopping centre and there are what feels like an out of proportion number of pharmacies. We need a couple of items and some advice so we step into one. The pharmacist speaks excellent English and the service is super efficient.

We come to the old town and wander the tiny, narrow backstreets. The cathedral square is an elegant space and we enter the cathedral but I’m not allowed to photograph its interior. Nearby should be the archaeology museum but in spite of much searching and use of our map, we can’t find it. Then we’re told it is closed.

Backtracking to the quay, we go along to the maritime museum at the end where we can escape the cool breeze for a while. The first exhibits date back the longest time and are absorbing, as Crete has a rich, mixed culture from being colonised by several different civilisations. Moving further into the museum it is mostly second world war memorabilia, with a huge number of model battleships and upstairs, a collection of uniform pieces and various items in cases, one of which is a ‘German soup bowl’- a white, ceramic, oval plate covered in holes. ‘I don’t think much of this German soup bowl’, I tell Husband, who replies that it’s no wonder they lost the war, as they must have been starving. I feel an overwhelming urge to laugh, which I have to stifle rather than destroy the gravitas of the war relics, so it’s time to leave.

We return to the hotel to relax a bit, but it’s tricky. Outside is windy and cold, our room is not conducive to relaxing [except for sleep] and the hotel bar area is furnished with some of the most uncomfortable sofas I’ve ever sat on. But I can make do if I use a pillow from our room, so we sit and read there for a bit.

We opt to go local for dinner- just down the road, In the meantime, the weather worsens into a deluge of wind and rain and we are to learn that this is the coldest May day in Greece for seventy years. The rain hammers down on the restaurant’s enclosed awning as we share the space with a family celebrating a birthday. Ho hum…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

The Lie of the Land

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The first couple of days in a new location are all about orientation. The best way is to walk, although there are horse and carriage rides and bus tours in Chania, but no ‘Noddy Train’ which is a surprise.

We’ve opted for early sun then out to explore and find late morning coffee. Since I gave up most dairy products I’m always on a hunt for non-dairy milk- either in a cafe or for use in our hotel- which provides no dairy alternatives. I like oat milk best but soya will do. Our nearest mini-market only stocks almond milk and even then the carton looks a little dated.

We stroll down the road to the front- Venetian Harbour. The wide sweep of the harbour is home to swathes of cafes and bars and, judging by the hoards of tourists, all must do well. I am to discover, though, that few offer non-dairy milk. Once I’ve managed to get some oat milk, I decant some into a water bottle and carry it with me.

The vibrant blue of the sea and the sky, together with the curving bay and the lighthouse make for a gorgeous view anywhere here by the harbourside. There is a terrace of old warehouses and a few other old buildings beside the wide promenade. I’m taken with a gift-shop boat moored up, offering keepsakes and trinkets besides shells and sponges.

Cats are everywhere, as always in Greece, semi-feral, opportunistic as they weave their way through the tables of diners hoping for titbits. They are, however, well cared for by the locals, cat food containers and small heaps of dried food commonplace in the streets. When I first began visiting Greece and the islands, the wild cats were in poor shape, skinny, mangy and often with diseases like eye problems etc. Nowadays they are sleek, glossy and smug as they prowl the restaurants. Sometimes they are friendly and welcome a stroke but mostly they retreat from any attempt at physical contact. On our first night, I donated my sardine heads and tails to a hopeful black and white one, who left me as soon as the meal was finished.

On the busy harbour front there are hoards of tourists of many nationalities, the restaurants touting for business all the way round, most often trying German on us. It’s not the first time we’ve been taken for Germans. There are a surprising number of Americans, presumably doing their ‘Europe tour’, as well as French, Spanish, Italian- and possibly Russians, although I’m unable to identify Eastern European, Russian etc.

After walking and coffee, we return to the hotel for some later afternoon sun. The small pool is surrounded by high, concrete walls which make for a sheltered crater of heat without a breeze. The sunbeds are limited to the smallish space and the sunshades, with their concrete bases, can’t be moved, so it’s a case of careful selection and changing when necessary.

Later on we’ll return to the harbour to choose a place to eat- and we’ll be spoilt for choice!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Outbound at Last

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Back we go to Crete, where we enjoyed a warm, sunny holiday in October 2024. This time we’re in Chania, which looked picturesque in the brochure photos.

We land at the small airport and descend into a balmy, sunny evening. Arrival is quick and easy with a quick perusal of passports and the luggage comes with no trouble. Greece has yet to adopt the new, digital scans etc due to wanting lots of British tourists!

Out in arrivals, we’re soon identified and join just one other couple in a minibus- a vast improvement on the unwieldy coach of last time, which took us all down and back along narrow lanes it couldn’t manoeuvre, for hours and got us to our hotel at midnight. This time it’s only half an hour to our hotel, a smallish, four storey, nondescript building on a corner at a crossroads.

After check in, we go to our second floor room, which is, to say the least, snug. There is a small wardrobe, a bathroom with a minute shower cubicle, some shelves and a fridge [which is, at least, cold] a TV, twin beds and a very narrow balcony with two uncomfortable chairs and a little table- all only just fitting and with no sun. Our room and balcony overlook a car park. So far so unimpressive then…

Nevertheless, there’s enough time left int he day to explore a bit. Outside the hotel and to the left, down a short road, there is the sea, together with a few very promising bars and restaurants, some still bathed in late afternoon sun. It seems churlish to waste the evening so we get a drink at an outside table then decide we’ll eat here. Greek salad- lovely salty feta cheese on top of fresh salad greens in an olive oil dressing. Hooray! This is a reason to visit Greece- delicious fresh food in the sunshine.

Back at the hotel, there’s a small bar and some extremely uncomfortable furniture. A large screen is showing…football. It’s quiet and a little lacklustre and I wonder what the barman can find to do…

The hotel does breakfast only, which suits us fine, and better still it goes on until 11.30am, which is great. We don’t need to hurry down to the dining area on the ground floor. Again, breakfast is adequate, although there’s tinned fruit to go with the [delicious] yoghurt and we are to find the cooked items are a little repetitive.

After breakfast we decide to get some sun and a read by the small pool, which does have a few sunbeds. It soon becomes too hot. The pool is surrounded on three sides by tall concrete walls.

It’s time to explore the town and the famous Venetian Harbour. Another advantage of the hotel is that most places are in easy walking distance- which is good news as I’m only just walking again after months of being barely mobile. Today, the sky is blue. There are scarlet Jacarandas tumbling over rooftops and when we get to the quayside, smart motor cruisers lined up in their moorings on the azure blue of the harbour. Little wonder the Greeks have adopted blue and white as their trademark colours.

The holiday stretches ahead of us…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Wet Winchester

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So it’s rained pretty much every day since 2026 began, a relentless, sodden late winter that has encompassed all forms of precipitation, from drizzle to storm, from mizzle to squalls. As yet, nowhere in Europe has warmed enough to be escaping to sunshine, so the only thing is to find indoor things to do. To this end, we decide to make a visit to an interactive exhibition in a nearby city.

A visit to Winchester, a little north of us in the county of Hampshire, is always a delight. It is beautiful, historic and elegant, has many interesting sights and boasts a lot of lovely restaurants, cafes and pubs. We could get there by train very easily in about 45 minutes, except that rain and more rain has disrupted the railway, causing delays and cancellations.

Husband suggests we do a cheeky overnight stay, which I’m not about to argue with and he finds a ‘pub with rooms’ in the city centre with parking nearby. Winchester is one of those cities with a complicated one way system and not a great deal of convenient car parks, so this will do nicely. Maybe we’ll look at some more things in Winchester, although we have seen all the obvious sights on previous occasions.

After driving round and round the one way system in an abortive attempt to find the nearby car park, we do locate the entrance- only for a while though, because the science centre is outside of Winchester, a car journey away. We park and check into the Westgate Hotel- part of the Youngs Brewery chain. I need hardly say that it’s raining. We won’t be doing too much wandering outside.

The Westgate is charming with a tasteful decor, although our room is up several flights of steep, narrow stairs, which do my arthritic hip no favours. The room, however is dinky and has a great view of the castle.

There’s only time to drop the bags then we must collect the car and set off for the science centre, hindered by traffic, rain and the huge road works en route. The rain continues as we park and enter the centre- only just in time as it happens, because the show is starting and there don’t seem to be any empty seats. We’re in the planetarium part, projections circling on the domed ceiling. We’re taken through Van Gogh’s early life through his paintings then progress onwards through his various locations.

I’m very excited to see Arles and Saint Remy portrayed, as these are both places in the south of France where we have stayed and both beautiful in their own ways. By the time he got to Saint Remy, poor Vincent was suffering with his mental illness, his painting obsession having driven him, quite literally, mad; so that he needed to stay in an asylum. All in all, it’s enjoyable, although probably not the best value for the price.

When we exit, the rain is still plummeting [of course]. Rather than trudge round town, we opt to stay in the cosy Westgate, whose restaurant is perfectly good with a few menu options well cooked.

Next morning the rain has slowed to drizzle with a few bright intervals so we pack up and dump bags in the car then go to the ‘Arc’ cultural centre where I’m sure there’s a William Morris exhibition, except there isn’t, because it finished yesterday…

So it’s coffee, a short stroll to the cathedral and home….

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Winding Down

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The day of the Alcazar visit arrives- the penultimate day of our week in Seville. And it’s hot- possibly the hottest day of a very warm week.

During the second half of the week, we’ve been using the supermarkets opposite the hotel to gather brunch items- baguettes, cheese and cold meats, which is all very handy. Judging by the fellow guests by the swimming pool, this is what everyone else is doing, too!

We have our tickets for the visit and a time slot, so we set off down to Seville centre- a route we’ve become familiar with now, except that although we’ve visited the cathedral- and we know the Alcazar is nearby somewhere- we can’t seem to find it.

We wander round, scrutinise our map, walk again. It’s hot. I feel for the poor horses, lined up- albeit in the shade, to pull tourists around on carts.

Finally, we trudge up a narrow lane at the side of the cathedral and there it is, which makes me feel foolish, as it was behind the cathedral all the time. At first, on seeing long queues for the Alcazar, we feel smug to have bought tickets- that is until we see that of course- so has everyone else. Despite the allotted time slot, we must queue with everyone else. There are some pockets of shade though, thank goodness!

At last we’re through the gate and at first there’s nothing to hint at what lies inside the tall, ancient walls. We go first inside the building and up the stairs, where there’s an exhibition of very old tiles- 16th and 17th century- so astonishingly fresh and contemporary-looking, I’d be happy for my bathroom to be clothed in them! There is also a tiled portrayal of the crucifixion.

Downstairs the building consists of a series of small courtyards, shaded and charming. but the real beauty of the Alcazar lies in its vast and gorgeous garden, Moorish in design and set out in garden ‘rooms’. It’s very formal and there is a sense of calm in the lines of hedging, the squares, the symmetry and the planting.

We descend steps to a raised pond, where a few hopeful ducks swim within arm’s reach. A woman holds out a carefully manicured finger and I hold my breath until the nearest duck snaps at it, then I’m disappointed when she withdraws just in time.

Each area, marked by low hedges, is planted with shrubs, palms, trees and flowers- a rose garden being one. It’s a riot of flowers and colour for November. Further on the garden becomes less formal and wooded, a sea of green Mediterranean shrubs beneath the trees.

A staircase leads up to the top of the retaining wall, a covered corridor with views over the garden; a great way to end the visit.

At the end of our week, we make one more visit to the restaurant we found where we had a simple but delicious steak, then it’s time to take our leave of Seville- an elegant and beautiful city with a thrilling array of grand, historic sights…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

The Best of the Rest

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In the middle of our week in Seville, the weather turns sultry and cloudy. We are setting off to walk what we’d discovered was the route to the ‘sights’ and as we leave the hotel, are warned by a doorman that a big storm is coming, which was good of him. We determine, however that we’ll be back before any harm befalls us.

On this day, the parks and gardens are all firmly shut and locked, the result of accidental tree falls in previous storms. The authorities are taking no chances! These closures include the park in which the Plaza de Espana is located, although we are able to get into it by ascending steps and through a doorway.

In the event, there are a few grumbles of thunder and some gloomy, electric -looking clouds plus a few spots of drizzle. On our way back, and wanting brunch, we stop at one cafe, sparsely peopled and are asked if we have booked a table! We move to the next cafe, which is quiet. We have to use the QR code method for the menu [a system I’m not fond of] but manage to order a few items. We wait. We begin to realise why the cafe might be quiet when the wait extends and becomes over-long. A large party of Frenchmen arrive and order a lot of things, some of which arrive before our brunch, which is annoying. Husband is nervous about the coming storm [although this does not become an issue]. At long last, our meals arrive. It’s not so far to walk back to the hotel and as it happens, there isn’t really a storm.

The afternoon is still warm and, wanting to relax with a book by the pool, we get the lift to the third floor. The pool area, however has been stripped of all its comfortable cushions and quite a few of the loungers are gone, presumably in preparation for the ‘storm’ which hasn’t arrived! We make the best of it, using the loungers that remain and we have the place to ourselves.

In the evening, we venture to the top of our street and across to a restaurant we’ve spotted. It has evening outside heaters and a very cosy interior, plus a promising menu. We both choose steaks, which arrive on slates, mine still sizzling on arrival and it ranks amongst the very best steaks I’ve had, simply accompanied by chips [fries], tomatoes and okra. We order a glass each of their house wine. It is all delicious.

Another meal, at the ‘California Burger’ is a resounding failure and epitomises everything loathsome about fast food- a nasty, greasy, falling-apart in my hand load of gloop served in disposable cardboard- and resulting in a morning’s incarceration in the toilet for me and my UC-inflicted gut.

I’ve learned that if we want to visit the ‘Alcazar’ [which we do], we need to book tickets. We can do this at our hotel reception, which we do, choosing our penultimate day. This is something I am looking forward to!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com