The Pre-Holiday Holiday

Once upon a time, a good few months ago, Alien Wally and Mags went on holiday. To prepare for another holiday. Practice makes perfect, you know.

This time, the travellers were bravely heading past the Scottish border and the north of England towards that amorphous area simply referred to on northern road signs as "The SOUTH" (caps included).

And amorphous it is, with the motorway between Newcastle and London not having much to show for it in terms of distinguishing features. Anything of interest requires a detour off the long boring road to see.

So, before they fell asleep at the wheel from lack of visual stimulation, that's exactly what Alien Wally and Mags decided to do. Their detour destination: Cambridge.

The last time Alien Wally and Mags visited Cambridge, five years previously, it was at the end of a very busy and exhausting three week holiday. Consequently, the visit went something like this:
Mags' mind: Let's go, let's go! We're in Cambridge! We have to go pay our respects to these hallowed halls of academia! Come on!
Mags' body: F*#$ off. I'm tired. I hurt. I give up. I'm going to sit here in the grounds of Kings' College and cry.
Mags' mind: But... but... University! Books! Bicycles!
Mags' body: Tired. Hurt. Sit. Cry. What part of this don't you understand?
Alien Wally: So, does this mean we're not going punting on the River Cam then?

Good times, folks. Good times.

Anyway, things went much better this time around, Mags is happy to report.

There was punting.


There was hallowed academic halls.


There was bicycles.


There was a crazy man. And a crazy lady. And another crazy man. There are no pictures of these – what, you think Alien Wally and Mags are stupid enough to attract the attention of The Crazies by taking pictures of them? Think again, dear friends. Self-preservation is an art more prized than photography.

And then, there was back on the road, heading to Kent to visit family.

With a few days' grace until even more family arrived from South Africa, Alien Wally and Mags decided to visit Greenwich while they were down that way (i.e in The SOUTH).

There was a Naval College. With very beautiful ceilings.


There was much anticipation while waiting for the observatory's one o'clock ball to drop. There was much anticlimax at witnessing the observatory's one o'clock ball drop.


There was crossing the Greenwich meridian, through the hordes of people all waiting in a long queue along the meridian to have their pictures taken in front of the fancy commemorative sculpture.


There was the decision to take a wee walk along the Thames from Greenwich to Tower Bridge. Because how far could it be, really? Turns out: five miles (eight kilometers). As a result, there was walking. And more walking. And still more walking.


There was a roundabout with confusing traffic signals.


And then there was Tower Bridge.


And, before Mags' body could throw a hissy fit like it did in Cambridge five years ago, there was a ride back to Greenwich on the Thames Clipper.


Good times, folks. Good times. For real.