It’s time to travel south, but before leaving Northern Ireland, we stop off at the F.E. McWilliam Gallery and Studio at Banbridge. Well worth a visit. Some wonderful pieces, such as Homer here…

Powerful too, reminding us of the Abercorn Tea Rooms bomb blast in 1972…

Then, from one sculpture to another. We arrive in Dublin and head for Hospital Fields or Bully’s Acre, as it is known, in the Royal Kilmainham Hospital grounds, now Dublin’s centre for Modern Art…

Afterwards, it’s time to hit the town…and the reality that Ireland’s economy along with the rest of Europe is in something of a conundrum…does austerity work, or doesn’t it?

A No, then? Or was that a Yes?

Or  Yes and No? 

We pass the Guiness factory…

…and also somewhere we can go drink it… (or buy cherries from a modern day Molly Malone outside with her pram)….

St Stephen’s Green shopping centre is an amazing modern complex…

 And  there’s  excellent coffee from a stall by the Ha’Penny Bridge on the Liffey…

We stroll through several of Dublin’s parks, view statues of Oscar Wilde and James Joyce and St Patrick’s Cathedral, with plaques here and there about Dublin’s many famous icons of literature. We dally down Grafton Street amongst street artists, musicians and, sadly, beggars too…poverty hasn’t quite been consigned to the annals of the potato famine… and gaze into shop windows offering…golden rats….?

Needless to say, exhaustion hits. Just time for a creamy Guiness along to music in the  famous Temple Bar and to bid farewell to one last statue…the rather voluptuous Molly Malone, who is anything but alone as her name might  have suggested…

Today I fulfill a lifelong ambition – to walk across the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge.

 It was a wild and rugged adventure once, but sadly these days it’s been spruced up to another place to tick off in Theme-Park Britain. There are hoards of visitors queuing to cross (only eight allowed at a time) and a particular kind of shark waiting 100 feet below…

…but still it’s worth it…

….of course, the island is very beautiful, and the history of the rope bridge with an important role in the livelihood of salmon fishers is poignant. This particular part of the coastline was once a hive of activity, including mining.

A brighter day, so it’s off to White Park Bay for a walk along the beach. We begin at the fantastic hamlet of Ballintoy, last visited several years ago, during the most dramatic of storms, where the waves were making pebbles of these rocks…

It’s a really special place, with eider duck and seals amongst the inhabitants, and primroses and red clover in flower upon the cliffs… this is part of the Ulster Way…well worth the boot leather!

Afterwards we call by at Dark Hedges, an avenue of beech trees planted in the eighteenth century. There is said to be a grey lady walking these parts, with companions on special nights such as Hallowe’en…

We didn’t see her, however, and I don’t suppose she was any relation to Ryan or Paige…

Smooth journey and calm crossing bring us to the land of the bog. Vibrant gorse, flowering rhododendron and spring foliage do nothing to convince us it’s May. It’s freezing! Still, a brisk walk along the beach from White Rocks to Portstewart and back does wonders…

I had forgotten how beautiful this Northern coastline is, and art only enhances….

Unfortunately the artist doesn’t seem to be named.

Later, we take a look at Ballymoney’s tiny museum – it’s an eclectic mix, ranging from Roman remains, a Celtic stone, a “tyg” (a love cup), memories of the Great War, and motorcycle leathers and helmets from the battlefield of the North West 200, which, incidentally, is on this week. This town makes much of local heroes Joey and Robert Dunlop, champion bikers, and round the corner is a small memorial garden, which is full of bikers (as was the museum) paying their respects to (I have it on good authority) a “lovely man”. Oddly, the brothers both died aged 48 years old, although Joey was the elder by some years…

Having narrowly been squashed on the zebra crossing near our house by yet another maniac in a posh car with his eyes anywhere but on the road or the speedo, it’s high time we made another bid for freedom. We ready the van for a small foray, to remind ourselves that there is life outside Lincoln. Van’s clean, watered and we’re ready to roll…just have to check out the jazz at the Drill Hall first…

Home nearly two months, and already planning the next escape…in the meantime. check out  my new pamphlet on the News page… title,  flight path ….

Yes, it’s time to bid farewell to their furry friends and set off from Lucca, not before the two intrepid travellers have been well and truly rocked by what turns out to be an earthquake north-east of Parma.  Near Aix-en-Provence they discover what a dangerous place it can be, warned by two very gallant gendarmes to park the van in front of a garage in case of armed robbers! They are very well protected by police, guard dog, security, etc, and escape unscathed…

It’s a cold journey north, snowing in Lyon, and bitter near Troyes where we find a campsite that is open with facilities that remind me of camping with my parents forty years ago… However, we make it up to Dunkerque and on to Lincolnshire without a hitch…

And that, dear friends, as they say, brings our travels to an end for the time being. Somehow it feels like a new adventure is just beginnning…

It’s a fine day, so what better than a jaunt out to Pietrasanta, a small, arty town in the foothills of the Apuane? It’s a delight!

We meet some interesting people and some unlikely characters…

And enjoy a Calzone in a very pleasant and friendly snack bar. Then one of us has to do the tourist thing, don’t we….he’s been framed….

Time for a day away from the creative activities again, and we head back down into civilisation – we catch the train from Lucca to Firenze (Florence) – a very reasonable 5.30 euros per trip, and head for the sights!

Lovely city, but it’s only dipping your toe into the water, there is so much to see. We do manage the Uffizi – no queues and a very civilised number of people, and superb classics! Oddly, my love is for the wood block prints – they are so dainty and well crafted and interesting, but also the ceilings in the corridors take some beating, as well as the “big” pieces. Fabulous!

Some of these guys are pretty cruel, but hey, this chap looks as though he’s enjoying himself…

Time to emerge from our hidey-hole in the hills and seek a little bit of winter beach, so we head down to Viareggio…

It’s actually a large built up strip which is part of the Versilia – the Northern Tuscan riviera. It has its pretty pockets and there’s a long stretch of sand, most of which appears, today, to be flying horizontally into our faces. Yes, apparently when they come, these winds batter Viareggio for two to three days at a time… they certainly seem to have whipped the sea up…

…the slice of pizza I attempt to eat whilst sitting on a bench seems strangely crunchy…better seek shelter in a café for one of those excellent cappucini….