Blushing British Bollards

They might have been called "Hore Beacons" if it were not for the eccentric trait of the British aristocracy in adopting "double-barrelled" surnames.

An insurance company manager in Devon, England called Jacob Isaac Belisha and his wife Elizabeth became the parents of a man who name is immortal throughout Britain, Australia and New Zealand.

Jacob passed away a year after the birth of his son Leslie. Elizabeth remarried. Her new husband was Sir Adair Hore and they adopted the surname Hore-Belisha.

Half Famous
Leslie went onto a political career marred by prejudice about his Jewish heritage. But his name, well at least fifty percent of it, will live on forever.

Leslie, you see, is the inventor of the "Belisha Beacon". These blushing bollards can be found at either end of a "zebra crossing" (okay, that's another blog post).

The Blushing Baron Meets the One-Eyed Dutchman
Belisha Beacons are intended to attract the attention of motorists to the location of a pedestrian crossing. But of course the 1st Baron Hore-Belisha couldn't have anticipated competition from the One-Eyed Dutchman called a Gatsometer.

Nowadays, British motorists have their eyes firmly fixed on their speedometers to avoid being shot in the back by the ubiquitous, mindless, robot speed cameras.

Pedestrians crossing the road have been relegated to the status of collateral casualties in the war against helpless British motorists. Leslie, 1st Baron Hore-Belisha, would have turned bright orange at the very thought of it.

Doing The Wash

Blighty's Blog spent a Fortnight in the United Queendom in August and came back with some ripping yarns to tell. Here is another "Tale From the Trip".

A big bit of Britain is missing. Maybe it was the Vikings (my ancestors), maybe it was the Romans or the Normans. Somebody, or something, sometime, took a giant bite out of England's east coast.

Danger! ... Danger!
The missing bit is a bay 20 miles long by 15 miles wide called "The Wash". The Wash is a dangerous place to be. Navigation through its shallow waters is fraught with hazards. The Royal Air Force uses the western shoreline as a training area and frequently drops bombs on it, but I didn't find that out until an RAF fighter jet whistled through my hair.

Diamonds Gone Forever
It was dangerous even before the RAF earned its wings. My namesake, King John of England, lost the Crown Jewels in the Wash. I have shared my first name with only one English monarch and his whole reign was something less than spectacular.

I decided to visit The Wash this past summer. I had never seen it before and decided that this was the year to put a check mark against it. My tour route took me past the western shore (the inland coast) of The Wash.

The Fool on the Hill
No problem methought, just make a slight diversion, find a place to park near the seashore and stroll along the beach. Fool.

There are no signs indicating "beach this way". There are no traffic jams of holidaymakers carrying mother, father, 2.5 kids and the family dog on a day out to the seaside.

Instead, after a lot of navigation guided by the Sun, we managed to find a "white road" (the lowest classification of roads on a British motoring map) that wound its way through the hedgerows ending up alongside a huge wall of grass covered earth.

We parked the car, walked along the edge of a field, climbed a steep flight of steps and found ourselves on top of a massive dyke overlooking The Wash.

The first attack by the RAF took us by surprise. One of their fighter jets screamed in very low from the south. I pointed my Canon at it and fired off a few shots but the jet managed to get away.

The Parting Shot
The same jet made several passes, its undercarriage skirting through the parting in my hair, its engine noise pounding my eardrums. Eventually the airstrike was over; the pilot pulled back on his stick and flew inland.

We retreated. "Blimey" I thought, as we drove back to the main road, "they don't like tourists here". I pulled out my itinerary and put a big black check mark against another item on the list. We had done The Wash.

Murder Most Fowl

Aaaarrrggh! Help! Help! Keep  the women of Peterborough, away from me! No, no I am not being paranoid; the paranoids are chasing me too.

When I first saw this set of knives in a Peterborough store window this past summer, I thought: "that would be handy; a good set of knives for carving the Turkey on Thanksgiving and for chopping chicken for Sunday dinner. And look, there are smaller knives for partridge and quail."

"You could murder most fowl with this set of knives" I thought. And then I noticed the knife holder.
It happened during my trip to the UK this past summer. One of the local women took SWMBO (She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed) and I into a shopping mall. This bizarre and strange object was displayed in a store window.

Is there a demand for things like this in Peterborough? Are the women of Peterborough so angry with their men that an object such as this is openly sold?

What ideas did SWMBO get when she saw this? Should I be concerned when, on returning home, she ordered custom licence plates for her car that read "Boudica"? What should I read into her question about whether the Ontario Ministry of Transportation would allow rotating knives on the hubcaps of her "chariot"?

Tales From the Trip: #10 Bad Beer

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

We British love our beer. Even those of us who no longer live in the Land of Hope and Glory still love our beer.

Ice Cold Tubes of Slop
Forget about Bavarian purity laws and Aussie slop whose only claim to fame is how cold it can be made without actually freezing.

The Beer That Made Milwaukee Flameless
American beer is used for putting out brewery fires in Canada which is a terrible shame because, if there is any justice in the world, most Canadian breweries should actually be left to burn.

It's Alive!
What makes British beer the best in the world? It is alive! Literally. British real ale is delivered with live yeast in the barrel. The big Brit breweries tried to convert us to pasteurized, pressurized keg beer but their malevolence was defeated by one of the fundamental rules of physics: "to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction".

Throw it in the River
The reaction to keg beer was a massive public uprising in favour of traditional ale. Blighty's Blog travelled to Peterborough, England this summer and saw what the people there do with beer that doesn't measure up to their standards. As our picture shows, they simply toss it into the river.

Time Gentlemen Please
So why then are British pubs closing at the rate of 40 per month? Some blame the ban on smoking, others point to supermarket aisles bulging with cheap booze. I blame people like the friends I stayed with while in England. The poor pubs just couldn't keep up with their appetite for English ale. God bless them.

Tales From the Trip: #6 Time of Tide Waits for No Man

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

At the insistence of SWMBO (She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed), a family reunion in the north-east of England was punctuated by a trip even further north to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne just off the Northumberland coast near the Scottish border.

Celtics 1 Vikings 1
SWMBO wanted to immerse herself in the Celtic culture celebrated on the Island. I was drawn there by another instinct. Over a thousand years ago, my ancestors crossed the North Sea in small boats intent on rape, pillage and plunder.

Rape, Pillage & Plunder
The Vikings made their first British landing on Lindisfarne. They proceeded to import their own unique stlye of brutal nordic tourism up and down the east coast of England, establishing a Viking presence in Britain that lasted several hundred years.

Twice a Day
Lindisfarne is actually only a true island twice a day. It is connected to the mainland of Northumberland by a three mile long causeway. At low tide, hundreds of cars pour onto the island to soak up its ancient culture and visit its historic priory and castle.

Pay Attention!
There is an ancient English phrase "time and tide wait for no man". No one knows the origin of the phrase but visitors to Lindisfarne should pay particular attention to it. If you are planning on crossing the causeway, never ignore the fact that the time of the local North Sea tide really doesn't wait for anybody.

Saved From a Watery Grave
Every year a few foolhardy tourists seem to want to find out whether their cars are amphibious. They usually become clients of the Royal Air Force whose helicopters, based at nearby RAF Boulmer, pluck them from the crude and uninviting rescue towers along the causeway.

The tidal currents are very strong and, even though the RAF or the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institute) may be able to rescue the foolhardy, their cars remain at the unforgiving mercy of the North Sea.

Rush Hour
Tide tables are available online and safe crossing times are posted at each end of the causeway. But here's a tip from Blighty's Blog: if you wait until the latest possible safe crossing time you may be competing with hundreds of other cars trying to squeeze a few extra minutes on the island.

And whatever you do, don't run out of petrol on the causeway!

Tales From the Trip: #5 The Haunted Inn

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

The Bailey Round
When I was just a young lad I worked as a newspaper delivery boy. Although I was a Londoner by birth, fortune had taken my family to the City of Durham in the northeast of England. I must have impressed my employer for I was given the prestigious "Bailey Round". My route took me to the doors of all the high church officials associated with Durham Cathedral.

Posh Folk Don't Tip
As I later discovered, none of the other boys wanted anything to do with the Bailey Round because the high-ranking, wealthy people living in the posh homes surrounding the cathedral were very poor tippers at Christmas.

In the Dim Light of Early Morning
So, at six-thirty every morning, I loaded up my canvas sack with plentiful copies of the Times, the Daily Telegraph, the Church Times and the pink broadsheet Financial Times and set off for the finest neighborhood in the whole of the northeast of England.

Grotesque Gargoyles
The homes along "The Bailey" are ancient stone structures. The grotesque gargoyles atop the cathedral buttresses leer down at passers-by. The street is narrow, deserted and spooky in the dim light of early morning. I was often startled by the creak of an ancient door opening and sundry other noises that broke the eerie silence in this most ancient quarter of the city.

A Towering Cathedral and Ancient Castle
The Bailey runs along one side of a spectacular peninsula created by a horseshoe bend in the River Wear. The ground enclosed by the bend rises high above the river. On top of the high ground sits Durham Cathedral and Durham Castle - two mighty buildings that dominate the city and can be seen for miles. This is the district in which distinguished theologians ply their trade and students with sights set on entry into the church learn their profession at the ancient collegiate university.

Something Very Strange
I must have performed my duties with distinction because, after a couple of years, I was promoted to the role of supervisor of newspaper delivery boys and no longer had to carry that heavy canvas bag through those dark, sinister streets. But I had no way of knowing that something from those streets stayed with me. Something that would lie dormant and come back to haunt me many years later.

The Recurring Dream
I left Durham City a few years later and did not return until the summer of 2009 - nearly 40 years later. I had to go back. I was curious. For several years I have been having a strange recurring dream. In my dream I visit a public house on Saddler Street which leads directly into the Bailey. I walked that street every morning on my route.

It is a very vivid, yet brief dream and it is always the same. I could not even remember whether there was a public house on that street and I never paid much attention to the dream.

But, in August 2009, I returned to Durham City, determined to find out whether that pub existed. It does, and what I discovered when I found it was profoundly disturbing. A sign on the outside of the pub reads:

This building dates back to 1109AD. It was an inn called The Ostler & Groom in 1468AD. It remains one of the most haunted pubs in England.

A strange tale, but completely true.

Tales From the Trip: #4 All Manor of Rabbits

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

It was our first night in England. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I were checked into the Premier Inn at Gatwick Manor in southern England.

Sshh! Come and Look at This
We were enjoying a quiet stroll around the ample grounds of the hotel as dusk was setting in. A small meadow stretched into a quiet wooded copse behind the building. As I approached I saw a group of half a dozen rabbits sitting on the grass.

I summoned my wife to come quickly and quietly so that she could share in this first sighting of British wildlife on the trip. Little did we know what sights we would witness before we left the hotel two days later.

Medieval Manor Under Siege
Gatwick Manor is a medieval manor house under siege. The six rabbits we saw on that first night were a scouting party for the hundreds we were to witness over the next couple of days.

By morning, the main rabbit army had arrived. Echelons of rabbit infantry were advancing onto the manor grounds, sweeping across the long winding driveway leading to the parking lot of the hotel.

I Fired a Few Shots
I pulled out my Canon and fired a few shots at them from across the battlefield. They retreated but then reformed and advanced again. We climbed into our car and drove as quickly as we could toward the main road to Crawley.

The entire rabbit force of several hundred - maybe several thousand - was concentrated in the grounds of Gatwick Manor but the roads were clear. Once we were out of the manor grounds we were safe.

Continued on page 94.

Tales From the Trip: #2 FlyGlobespan

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

The Curse of Blighty's Blog
Blighty's Blog travelled to the Land of Hope and Glory last year on Zoom Airlines. They let us down so we put a blog curse on them. Weeks later they went bust. This year we ventured across the sea to England once more; this time with FlyGlobespan. We loaded up for bear, put on our woad, gritted our teeth and prepared for battle with another airline.

A Hex on Zoom
A year ago we shelled out a few extra dollars for "Premium Economy" seats on Zoom. We got priority check-in and boarding but we were shell-shocked to discover Zoom's "premium" seats were identical to their regular seats except for being four inches further apart.

So Much Better
So, this year, when we arrived at the airport with our "business class" tickets (for which we paid about a $150 premium each way) we were primed for another disappointment. We didn't receive any priority check-in or boarding at the airport which was a surprise and a warning. But when we entered the aircraft - a nice wide-body Boeing 767 - we were pleased and relieved to see that our $150 was well spent.

Leather Luxury
FlyGlobespan's business class seating was very comfortable. The rows were sufficiently well-spaced to allow the deeply reclining leather seats to be fully deployed without annoying passengers in the row behind. Each seat also had an adjustable leg and footrest. Economy class seats are also leather-covered but are narrower and do not have the wide row spacing found in business class.

A Better Airport
FlyGlobespan flies in and out of Hamilton Airport which is a pleasant change from Toronto's Pearson Airport. Hamilton Airport is an efficient, well-equipped regional facility and far less crowded than Pearson. There are no jet bridges so passengers have to walk across the apron and climb stairs to board the aircraft. That could be a problem in wet weather.

Our flight departed on time and arrived early. We travelled to London Gatwick via Belfast where we had a forty-five minute stopover. The journey was comfortable and the flight crew were polite and efficient.

Don't Board Hungry
Our flight departure time was around 8pm and we weren't served dinner until a couple of hours into the flight. My suspicious mind decided that this is a cost-cutting measure. Airlines probably have to feed passengers at particular intervals during a flight. By delaying dinner service as long as possible they escaped the obligation to serve a breakfast before landing. Sure enough, "breakfast" was a small cup of water.

£2 for a Cuppa
Flyglobespan charges even for tea and coffee in flight (even in business class) but meals are included in the ticket price. Headsets and blankets are offered for sale. The seat headset jacks are the common 3.5mm stereo type found on almost all audio equipment, so if you have your own headset, take it with you.

Car? What Car?
Flyglobespan operates a ticketless service. Book online and check-in with just your reservation number and photo id. We had rented a car at Gatwick through the airline and that created a problem when we arrived. After making our way to the car rental hall at Gatwick we realized that the airline had not advised us which car rental company they do business with.

Fortunately, the very helpful staff at Avis and Thrifty finally found our reservation (with Thrifty). It wasn't easy though. FlyGlobespan had not forwarded our booking to Thrifty who had no record of our car reservation. It was only when their helpful desk attendant made a few phone calls that we got our car.

Despite our apprehension about travelling with another budget airline we completed our round trip with a generally positive feeling about FlyGlobespan and would recommend that you give them a try.

Brits Pay More
One further note about FlyGlobespan. They have a Canadian website (flyglobespan.ca) and a UK website (flyglobespan.com). When we booked our flights in May we found that the same seats, on the same flights, cost a lot more if booked through their UK website (read about it here). When I went online - in the UK - to reconfirm our return flights I was blocked from visiting the airline's Canadian website. Perhaps the folks up in Scotland, where FlyGlobespan is based, read Blighty's Blog; lots of people do you know.

Tales From the Trip: #1 The One Eyed Dutchman

Blighty's Blog recently spent a fortnight in the United Queendom. We came back with some great "tales from the trip". Here's another one.

I wait with baited breath.The UK police have two weeks to issue a notice of intent to prosecute. Am I a wanted man? Did I get caught by any of their one-eyed Dutchmen while I toured around England?

They Shoot You in the Back
The "one-eyed Dutchmen" is the ubiquitous speed camera in use throughout the UK. I drove past hundreds of them during a two-week journey that took me from London's Gatwick airport to the Scottish border and back again. These Dutchmen shoot you in the back as you pass by. Cowards. Dumb, ignorant unthinking cowards. The most visible of them all is the Gatsometer invented in Holland. Hated on both sides of the English Channel many are condemned to death by fires set by angry protestors.

Evil Eye
The Gatsometer is a yellow box atop a post at the side of the road. It points its evil eye at a set of white lines on the carriageway. The one-eyed Dutchman fires a radar signal at the back of each passing car. If the vehicle is travelling too fast the Dutchman takes a picture of the license plate. A second picture is taken moments later to enable the dreaded box to compute the vehicle's speed.

What Size Shoes Do Policemen Wear?
The police then have two weeks to issue a notice of intent to prosecute - longer if the vehicle is a "hire car". The police, whose business revenue depends upon erring motorists paying fines, vehemently defend the notion that speeding causes accidents. But anybody with an IQ higher than his shoe size can see the shallow value of that argument.

A Double-Double and a Dutchie
What really happens on Britain's roads is that motorists drive hell-for-leather and slow down only when they pass by a speed camera. With many thousands of these devices throughout Britain to babysit road discipline the police are freed for other duties. Tim Horton's would do well there.

Go Like Hell
Britain's motorways are peppered with roadworks where the speed limit is lowered from 70mph to 50mph. Compliance with the 50mph limit is enforced by using cameras to measure average speed within a controlled zone. But roadworks cause traffic to become congested, frequently slowing to a crawl. When the congestion clears Britain's motorists can go like hell to compensate for the delay without exceeding the "average" speed limit.

Too Many Pedals
It took me a few days to re-acclimatize to driving on Britain's narrow, winding roads in a car with too many pedals on the floor and a strange stick beside the driver's seat. I drove very cautiously at first. British drivers were unforgiving. They drove so close behind me I could see the colour of their eyes. I upset a few of them by finding myself in the wrong lane approaching a roundabout.

Driven to Drink
One British driver has probably taken to drink to calm himself after encountering me on a bend in the road in Lincolnshire. My keener observance of the English Highway Code incited him to overtake me dangerously. He drew alongside me a little further down the road, wound down his window and said: "I am jolly cross with you old chap" - at least that was the gist of his blessing to me.

Seeing Red
And, just like here in Canada, red lights in Britain now seem to mean "floor the gas and go for it" to many British drivers. They have a camera for that too.