Today, a trip down memory lane – in more than one sense. First, the last time I saw the place we’re going to visit (when I took the photos) was in 1988 – I hazard the guess that a number of you weren’t even born then. Second, this is (or was then) a place forgotten by time and the world. And finally… photos from thirty years ago: look at their quality! That is, their lack of it (admittedly not helped by the scanner).
The short answer is: very. 🙂
So you picked up a Maltese travel brochure and saw these glorious photos of the Blue Lagoon in which the water is implausibly blue, a shade known by people who care about such details as ‘cyan’. And you weren’t born yesterday, so you conclude that the colour of the sea water is the result of a photo filter and the name of the lagoon is probably an advertising gimmick.
And you’re wrong.
One of the stereotypes of Spain is, of course, that of bull-fighting. We’ve never been to Spain during the season but there’s a general agreement in the family that if we had the chance, we’d see one. There’s also agreement that we probably won’t like it; certain family members hope the bull would win. (Unlikely.)
Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death…
Continued from: Three Ways to Dock a Motorboat (Part I)
The first way was – as you hopefully read in the previous post – with precision. Well, the second way is…
The Second Way: With a Bang
Or How to Get Confused by the French
To dock a boat with a bang takes a bit more effort than the first method. To begin with, it requires involvement from somebody else on shore (although I suppose somebody else in the same boat might do just as well).
Continued from: What Price a Thames Skiff?
We went walking on the Thames path the only sunny day this spring. I was going to point out all the jolly people rowing upriver in their beautiful Thames skiffs to my husband – I thought he needed encouragement to see things in the right light. But all I could point out were motorboats.
“The most expensive lunch I’ve ever had in my life,” is how my husband refers to our visit to the island of Santorini – possibly the most photographed tourist destination on Earth – in the summer of 2013. The lunch in question, ferry tickets included, cost us some four hundred pounds. “But it was worth every penny,” he adds.
Continued from: Upriver: Jerome K. Jerome Comes Out of the Woodwork
Sometime in January, I suggested to my family that we should go rowing up the Thames. À la Jerome K. Jerome. They didn’t take me seriously but I didn’t see why that should stop me. So a few weeks later, I was back on topic…
“We will need to get fit,” I said. It was a Saturday night and my husband and I were alone in the living room with a bottle of red. “We’ll need to practise.”
“Let’s row up the Thames.”
I said this towards the end of dinner sometime in January . “Like in Three Men in a Boat,” I specified, in case anyone around the dinner table was in the slightest doubt.
My husband gave me a wary look from the opposite end of the table. On my left, Sophisticated Young Lady tried (and failed) not to look immensely relieved that she was old enough to be excused family holidays. I can’t remember whether Young Friend of the Elephants was in favour or not. But either way, she got over-excited. She always gets over-excited.