Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

This from JK….      …. I don’t know what to say really.

In order not to overload with comments the previous post, I thought it better to make a statement on the issue of bus routes. 

Now, I used to work for Crosville, as did Uncle Tommy (no nepotism at all), and feel well placed to comment.  (Anyone know what happend to the McCormack’s by the way?).  I’ve had my fun with the 2A to Blacon, the 52 from Willesden, the 8 and N8 and, of course, the D6, as well as that Birkenhead bus and the various South American options.  However, there can only be one winner.

The L1 goes from that hill at the bottom of Blacon (just before the Creoso Y Cymru sign) all the way to Towyn.  It takes three days, approximately, althought travellers are never disappointed with a good look at Connah’s Quay, should it break down there.

Me and my sisters used to accompany Mama y Papa on this wondrous voyage annually, to stay at our Aunt Janet’s residence by the sea (in a caravan in Towyn – not even at Robin Hood Camp) to take in the air and sample the health-giving properties of the waters of the area.

On one memorable occasion, we left the council house at the crack of dawn, loaded with all the food we needed for the week (it was too dear in Rhyl) and stood in the rain waiting for the bus.  It came and excitement mounted.  When we reached our personal Nirvana some time later, we raced, as usual, to see who could be the first to sit in the black and white plastic seat (even though I knew that when I won, my victory would be short-lived, as being the oldest I would have to go and ‘get the water’ – barrels of it for the washing up and the tea, no poncey bottled stuff in those days).  However, on this occasion Dad had forgotten the key.  If this was now, I would have broken into the sodding thing and worried about keys later, but in those innocent days Dad had to get back on the L1 and return just as we were about to go home, having spent the intervening period on the beach (not at the fair) in the rain.  Happy days.

Now in fabulous Buenos Aires, the city being the entire reason for this trip.  More on this later, but just time to mention the old lady whose bags I carried up the steps of the tube.  When we got to the top, she thanked me and then enlisted my help in collecting as many glass bottles as we could find so she could get the deposit.  Taking my kindness a step too far, I think. 

Today’s Tune – Santa Maria, The Gotan Project.  A truly great record.

This, I feel confident, will be the only blog post on the planet with this combination of Travel Tags.

… said the bloke behind me as the double decker ‘rapido’ bus veered into the soft shoulder at 80 miles an hour.  I would have agreed, but I was trying to recall the words of the motorist´s prayer and to translate them into Spanish to take my mind off the unique driving style of our pilot.

Argentine bus irritant.  The bloke who takes your luggage out of the hold at the end of the journey sometimes demands a tip.  For 10 seconds work.  I asked one what the tip was for.  He replied ‘For me!’.  Had to give him one then, didn’t I?

South American bus funny thing.  All SA bus drivers have a mate.  This person sits up front with the driver, checks tickets and occasionally gives out (extremely bad) food.  But their main job appears to be to wave to their counterparts in buses coming the other way.  I like to think of them as the Dougal to Father Ted.  I normally take the role of Jack, shouting ‘Feck!’ from time-to-time.

Currently in the Blackpool of Argentina, Mar del Plata.  The Stones played their final gig in BA last night with more rioting and a live feed on the telly.  Considering they started in the 60s and are playing now, why is their dress sense still mired in the 80s (the decade that taste forgot)?  They finished with Satisfaction, so Devo’s version of that song is one tune of the day.  Jagger, the ultimate professional, ripped off his shirt for the finale to reveal an Argentine footie top (tailored to within an inch of its life).  Clever buggar.  Still can’t stand him.

It’s U2 next, so telly has gone from wall-to-wall Stones to wall-to-wall Serious Irish Christians.  They’re being supported by Franz Ferdinand, so I’ll go in search of any warm up gigs on Monday with my best Scottish accent at the ready for the guest list.

In the meantime I leave for Buenos Aires, where I intend to stay for a month, on Sunday.  I missed getting a seat on my chosen train – The Midnight Special.  Still, Harry Belafonte’s version of that tune is today’s second song.

Finally, have just finished reading The Day Kennedy Was Shot by Jim Bishop.  Exhausting in detail, but not exactly conclusive (although he thinks it was).  Now, we all know that John Peel killed Kennedy and by coincidence I was listening to a Peel commemoration programme I’d recorded as I got to the bit when Lee Harvey Oswald was being charged with the of the president.  At the exact time Paul Gambacchini was claiming that Peel had said he was there at that moment.  Not according to the book I was reading.  More grist to the conspiracy mill.  Anyway, one of the tunes played on the programme was Holiday in Cambodia by (I’ve just realised this!)… the Kennedys!  In a world of truth and justice that record would have been number 1 for at least 6 weeks and as a result it is today’s third tune.

Bye All

Late PS – Poor Cath from the Patagonia part has suffered a theft in sodding Santiago de Chile.  What is it about that y place?  Anyway, here’s a picture she’s lent me to remind us of that fabulous night on the Glacier.  Keep your chin up Cath.

                                                  

Just thought I’d pop this in.     

Oh well, that’s the English season over.  When does the cricket start?

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