Why Do the Wrong People Travel?

January 12th

Why Do the Wrong People Travel?

I need to renew my passport. As far as I know I don’t have any ancestry that allows me to dodge applying for a British passport so that’s what I’ll have to do.

The planning and taking of foreign holidays doesn’t occupy much of my time these days, I’m happy in Filey or Bamburgh, but we are planning a trip abroad later this year so a passport  will be required.

I was trying to recall how many times I’ve actually been abroad in my lifetime and I know the first time was a secondary school trip to Le Tréport in France. We also went to Middelkerke in Belgium with school and I remember we had mayonnaise on our chips. I think in that moment I became middle class.

I’ve been on skiing holidays to Bulgaria and Italy. In Bulgaria I acquired a taste for red wine, 30p a bottle. Russian champagne was less than a quid I think and we did drink an awful lot of the stuff as the food was bloody awful.

You had to queue each night for dinner, and us Brits all queued as you would expect, a nice orderly line, only to find the Germans rushing past you when the bell went. Sorry about the racial stereotyping but this is a true story.


We did laugh when one particularly rude woman fell up the steps and split her knee open. Not pleasant of us I know, but as we laughed and stepped around her prone and bleeding body, we had but one thought in mind…we must get to the salad bar!

The reason: well you had to fill your plate with salad and cheese because you knew that the ‘meat’ was going to taste of soap and the soup would be thinner than water - and usually had fish bones in it and an oil slick of grease floating on top. I think we lost weight on that holiday.

I also recall the fun we had exchanging our British notes for local currency, by surreptitiously passing it to our waiter under his napkin. Quite illegal but the only cabaret in town. You could also exchange cash on the ski slopes as there was usually a man hiding in a bush waiting to do you a great deal.

Italy is nice, we have been several times. We drove there once to go camping in Tuscany. Before SatNav, and with Mrs B not being the best map reader, we did end up taking a small detour into Germany when we should have hit Switzerland. Anyway we got there and Tuscany still holds a special place in our hearts.

I have visited the USA five times including a fly drive holiday, and another detour which found us in the middle of the US Rangers winter warfare training camp! We rode on cable cars in San Francisco, with Diana Ross…that’s a story for another day.



I also rode a horse called Buck; this was in Bryce Canyon National Park. I’m not a confident horseman so they gave me this old plodder to ride. As we meandered through the beautiful scenery and along the path around the edge of the canyon, our guide, Vern, told me that Buck got his name because he liked to kick up a fuss near the edge of the canyon, but only on a Saturday.

It was Saturday.

I sat very still.

I’m guessing Vern had a big grin on his face.

Vern was a man who looked after tourists in the summer and in the winter he tracked and tagged mountain lions. I was in awe.

On that trip we also visited Monument Valley, and I recall just standing, again in awe, remembering all the times I had watched John Wayne and other cowboys stars, riding through that magnificent setting. I picked up a rock and bought it home. I still have it.

We have been to islands and to cities, we have flown and sailed, we have had some lovely times and are lucky to have done so.

But now, I no longer have the desire to travel great distances. I don't like flying long haul, I don’t like flying short haul!


I don’t like the weather to be too hot, I’m not bothered if I ever see another sun bed.

I’d love to go to New Zealand, or maybe Canada, but if I don’t get there I don’t.

I’ll happily sit on a bench overlooking Whitby harbour and eat chips, and dodge seagulls, and think about all the wonderful places I did get to see on those past journeys.

As someone said to me the other day, “You’ve been around”.

Yes, I’ve been very lucky and all of those miles brought me so many smiles…and memories. Now you poor sods have to put up with these reminiscences!