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To India and Beyond....
- Thread starter Lancelot
- Start date
He’s AWOL 
, but on serious note hope alls well
, but on serious note hope alls well
Ey Up! All good here thank you; we have been/are in the midst of pre-"O" level exam pants....arranging ab exam centre in Armenia has proved more difficult than we were led to believe. I am also now sitting down for approximately three hours a day to write one of the many books in my head, so I eat up time available for other things. Rest assured, HUGE updates to follow this week, including my thoughts on Russians, Turks, the environment and ancient cities. Standby!He’s AWOL
I will bemoan the fact that England did not do better in the Six Nations though. Well done Ireland and Happy St.Patrick's Day!
Pleased all is well..
We get a pH here in n ireland tomorrow as ap Patrick's day fall on a Sunday.. Can't be bad
peaklander
Accelerating Away
Happy Easter everybody. I hope you are all enjoying the
How kind - I never knew my father so that must account for my tardiness...however, as a former professional military man I should be better at maintaining comms schedules! Oh those happy days of the hand generator in the steamy jungles of the east...or the rather dirty scrubbiness of Belize and the mud of Guyana.
Suffice to say I have written 43,000 words of my first book (tasters available), we have had long days in Lancelot, just 6km short of 10,000 since leaving Bavaria and are enjoying the 25-27 degree days of sun, not to mention the local exuberance at the Opposition winning so many cities in the local elections. There are 2,600 photos to sift through and plenty of historical local colour to impart. So thank you for your patience; normal service will be resumed shortly...once the friends and family leave!
Enjoy the Bank Holiday and look forward to Tuesday 2nd April's update, it will be a good one - standby, standby!
Have you been fishing? What's the catch of the day at this time of year?Pleased all is well..
We get a pH here in n ireland tomorrow as ap Patrick's day fall on a Sunday.. Can't be bad
Tight lines!
T
Morning, and good to hear all is well
The less said about fishing these days the better
I'm currently back home on tyneside and I left my fishing gear in Ireland as I know it's usually a quiet time of year over here..
And I have a lot of things to sort before a return to Ireland anyway
Safe travelling
Oh no!Morning, and good to hear all is well
The less said about fishing these days the better
I'm currently back home on tyneside and I left my fishing gear in Ireland as I know it's usually a quiet time of year over here..
And I have a lot of things to sort before a return to Ireland anyway
Safe travelling
What would Izaak Walton say?
Probably not Way Aye man! One of the central characters in my book is a Geordie, he is an amalgam of Geordie, Maccam and Ponteland NCOs I was lucky to have served with.
Reeet Canny Lad I must away to my promised update!
T
Good day all. The last month or so has been a rollercoaster, not only many hours spent with administration of the stuff of life (paying bills, crazy mothers, organising the international movements of friends and family, some of whom are still visiting now), which does not stop wherever you are, but also a thousand and one other things, many of which I will impart in the updates I will post in the next few days. Then I will crack on with Chapter Sixteen and update more often as I have before.
It was 32 degrees C here on Tuesday and I saw my first sunburned Britons in and around the town we go to on market day. It is an hour away and also where I heard my first Scouse accent in a few years! Apart from the fact that the thermometer was redders, the market place was full of women wearing headscarves, the vegetables were exotic (but mostly tasteless) it could have been Blighty!
I hope you are enjoying the post-Easter holiday and getting your Rovers out and about.
Standby!
T
It was 32 degrees C here on Tuesday and I saw my first sunburned Britons in and around the town we go to on market day. It is an hour away and also where I heard my first Scouse accent in a few years! Apart from the fact that the thermometer was redders, the market place was full of women wearing headscarves, the vegetables were exotic (but mostly tasteless) it could have been Blighty!
I hope you are enjoying the post-Easter holiday and getting your Rovers out and about.
Standby!
T
We have been in Turkey or to be punctilious Türkiye Cumhuriyeti since December. With a little over a month in Istanbul we travelled southwards to the Mediterranean coast, visiting sites of antiquity along the way before settling for five weeks in Kas and most recently, a month east of Kas towards the town of Fethiyeh, famous with Briton and others since the 70s and once considered a playground of the Med’ with its yachts, (still in abundance although now all Turkish-owned) casinos (all gone) and liberal lifestyle (er...the jury is out).
It has been quite journey, enlightening on many fronts. As we have learned more about Turkey and TD5 engines (singing along I might add, thanks for the top tips), we have learned about ourselves too. Group dynamics and personal relationships have revealed themselves in ways one would not experience living at home with a degree of clock-work western European routine. Interaction with the locals had been both rewarding and disenchanting in equal measure, whilst discovering the ancient Lycian sites of the hinterland and treading pathways created over two and a half thousand years ago has provided enormous pleasure, mostly it must be said for free.
The effect on the animal members of the team cannot be underestimated either; the crazy Spanish Greyhound was so taken with the limpid pool surrounding the monument marking the place of Gaius Caesar’s death that after staring at her reflection for a considerable time she decided to dive in, whereupon she remembered that she wasn’t a Newfoundland and had to be rescued from the surprisingly clear waters, (the discarded rubbish has accumulated to the rear of the cenotaph), near the spot where locals tried to blow it up in the 1920s to get at the treasure they believed was contained within. As for the Rats they do their thing, and since eating the shoulder from The Chief’s Barbour jacket in Vienna have been remarkably well behaved although they have demonstrated their dislike of pomegranate peel on numerous occasions. When it comes to cheese though…and peanut butter...and tahini...and don't forget the carob seeds!
Lancelot, whose accent I cannot completely decide upon, is central to the journey, ably assisted by Peter Rabbit, (sitting in one of the cup holders at the driver's side of the Cubby Box, almost where a rubber ape sat in the cigar ashtray in my Range Rover), who gives points for places of interest and road conditions with his radish. Think of those restaurant menus which largely fail to express the spiciness of a dish with pictures of a chilli pepper. Peter graded Ephesus (ibid), with five out of five yet awarded only half a radish, shaken with considerable disdain at that, to Istanbul. Being an avid Bond fan Peter compared what he saw of 1960s Istanbul in From Russia With Love, with what he experienced in 2023/24 and was horrified. The leaves on his radish mimicking the convulsive fury apparent on his furry face as he witnessed the attitude of modern Turks to the beautiful, yet almost invisible, Byzantine architecture. What can I say, he’s cultured!
Further assistance is provided by Eric the Elephant. He stands half an inch high and has red eyes, preferring to sit on the dashboard looking through the windscreen from a vantage point offering full enfilade fire from the defilade position. To give him his full title he is Eric the Electrical Elephant and all the electronic knowledge imparted by my fellow Defender addicts (particular thanks to Gary 63, Rustee, Redcoat, MadMechanic and Mikeau to name the repeat offenders), has been absorbed by him and since a simple pujah ceremony where Lancelot may have reached Nirvana there have been no problems with lights or fuses at all despite the extremes of weather, (high temperatures and incredible storms,) sand getting in every little aperture, the vibration created by roads which should be more correctly labelled off-road and simple every-day use. My work on the earth points (some of which remain invisible to me), cabling, damaged looms and odd switches was subsequently directed by Eric using telekinesis and has proved to be spot-on!
If you think I am not the full-shilling you can:
Photos and Pammukale (site of the “worst meal of my life”) to follow after the bean feast.
T
It has been quite journey, enlightening on many fronts. As we have learned more about Turkey and TD5 engines (singing along I might add, thanks for the top tips), we have learned about ourselves too. Group dynamics and personal relationships have revealed themselves in ways one would not experience living at home with a degree of clock-work western European routine. Interaction with the locals had been both rewarding and disenchanting in equal measure, whilst discovering the ancient Lycian sites of the hinterland and treading pathways created over two and a half thousand years ago has provided enormous pleasure, mostly it must be said for free.
The effect on the animal members of the team cannot be underestimated either; the crazy Spanish Greyhound was so taken with the limpid pool surrounding the monument marking the place of Gaius Caesar’s death that after staring at her reflection for a considerable time she decided to dive in, whereupon she remembered that she wasn’t a Newfoundland and had to be rescued from the surprisingly clear waters, (the discarded rubbish has accumulated to the rear of the cenotaph), near the spot where locals tried to blow it up in the 1920s to get at the treasure they believed was contained within. As for the Rats they do their thing, and since eating the shoulder from The Chief’s Barbour jacket in Vienna have been remarkably well behaved although they have demonstrated their dislike of pomegranate peel on numerous occasions. When it comes to cheese though…and peanut butter...and tahini...and don't forget the carob seeds!
Lancelot, whose accent I cannot completely decide upon, is central to the journey, ably assisted by Peter Rabbit, (sitting in one of the cup holders at the driver's side of the Cubby Box, almost where a rubber ape sat in the cigar ashtray in my Range Rover), who gives points for places of interest and road conditions with his radish. Think of those restaurant menus which largely fail to express the spiciness of a dish with pictures of a chilli pepper. Peter graded Ephesus (ibid), with five out of five yet awarded only half a radish, shaken with considerable disdain at that, to Istanbul. Being an avid Bond fan Peter compared what he saw of 1960s Istanbul in From Russia With Love, with what he experienced in 2023/24 and was horrified. The leaves on his radish mimicking the convulsive fury apparent on his furry face as he witnessed the attitude of modern Turks to the beautiful, yet almost invisible, Byzantine architecture. What can I say, he’s cultured!
Further assistance is provided by Eric the Elephant. He stands half an inch high and has red eyes, preferring to sit on the dashboard looking through the windscreen from a vantage point offering full enfilade fire from the defilade position. To give him his full title he is Eric the Electrical Elephant and all the electronic knowledge imparted by my fellow Defender addicts (particular thanks to Gary 63, Rustee, Redcoat, MadMechanic and Mikeau to name the repeat offenders), has been absorbed by him and since a simple pujah ceremony where Lancelot may have reached Nirvana there have been no problems with lights or fuses at all despite the extremes of weather, (high temperatures and incredible storms,) sand getting in every little aperture, the vibration created by roads which should be more correctly labelled off-road and simple every-day use. My work on the earth points (some of which remain invisible to me), cabling, damaged looms and odd switches was subsequently directed by Eric using telekinesis and has proved to be spot-on!
If you think I am not the full-shilling you can:
- Consult Derren Brown who will explain marvellous things about faith!
- Stop reading now as it will only get worse.
- Read on to continue the journey with its Genesis in Solihull!
- Donate funds to my (non-existent) account to ensure that I am not forced to live on the street and eat from bins - "Ooh! That sounds fun" said the Rats!
Photos and Pammukale (site of the “worst meal of my life”) to follow after the bean feast.
T
Not furry nor unfriendly. A week ago we counted over twenty at one mountain-top Lycian site!
Did you know they hiss? The Chief picked one up that was lazing in the middle of the road, she got the Hissing Sid treatment and much leg waggling. Perhaps he was placed on the wrong side of the road?
Did you know they hiss? The Chief picked one up that was lazing in the middle of the road, she got the Hissing Sid treatment and much leg waggling. Perhaps he was placed on the wrong side of the road?
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Those of you unfamiliar with Bagnold's seminal work (why do seminal and work always go together?) on Aeolian morphology have treat in store for you. You do not, unlike the author as a young troop commander, need to spend a few days digging out the Rover in the Mourdi Depression whilst on an exercise with the Foreign Legion. "Well done Boss, you are doing, great job, that's why God gave you those arms and legs. Only a bit more under the front wheels..."
This is our local beach. More to follow from a different medium when the updates reach the Southern Coast. Lancelot loves the dunes...
This is our local beach. More to follow from a different medium when the updates reach the Southern Coast. Lancelot loves the dunes...
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...and here he is enjoying the sunset after a long day trip. This beach is where turtles come to lay their eggs in season and where, the whole year round, Turks throw their rubbish and leave their beer bottles after a night's carousing. Needles to say the notices warning the user about the sensitivity of the nesting ground and respecting the environment are in English too. Hmmm.
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The area of Pammukale (Cotton Spring I Turkish) has been drawing visitors to it since Classical times when it was known as Hieriopolis and was visited by Cleopatra..hmm. Let me show you some pictures of how it is portrayed by various tourist boards, travel agencies and others with vested interests in you going to the thermal baths at £35.00 a time, or indeed a very indifferent hotel with cockroaches in the showers and a buffet lunch that relies on quantity rather than quality (taken from real reviews of the site's shanty town hostelries).Looks fabulous doesn't it?
Sadly the pools are empty at this time of year and the calcium carbonate slopes appear as a "dirty ski slope", aptly described by The Chief on seeing it. Luckily we only made a two hundred km diversion to see the wondrous site and our hotel was a mere 23 Euros for the six of us, yes, swimming dog included.
Having feared on a bonnet picnic along the way we decided to walk the mad hound in the adjacent hills and then find some supper. How to best describe Pammukale? Imagine something between the set of From Dusk til Dawn or a Dystopian Alan Whicker episode; a string of untidy shops selling everything from bathing trunks to plastic shoes and everything in between. All at inflated prices. The restaurants, wow, were we in for a treat.
Being early January everything was very quiet. One hotel was all of Chinese guests (ours too was full of signs in Mandarin and Cantonese) who chose to eat in. We should have followed their lead and shared the Spanish One's dry food. The most inviting place was decked out like a Moroccan desert hotel, with woven chairs, carpets and low cushions. Once the 250 decibel music was turned down it was quiet pleasant, even the huge screen showing the security cameras was quite arty and did not diminish the kitsch ambience of the place.
Then the food arrived...it was truly dreadful. The soup was from a packet, I am not sure what kind of packet, perhaps something containing Bob Martin's worming pills or IKEA door hinges, definitely not soup. 1980s ORP soup was haute cuisine in comparison. Inedible, although the lumps did give you something to chew on.
The Lamacun...for ease of description Lamacun is a traditional Turkish "pizza". Unleavened crispy bread with a topping of seasoned meat and tomato, usually the size of a decent dinner plate and costing around two to three Quid. What we got was the size of a side-plate and consisted of a supermarket purchased Mexican tortilla bread barely heated with tomato puree on it. YUK! We left, although I did pay the bill at a whopping £5.00.
Where do you begin? Clearly they make so much money they don't need return customers and judging by the chef whose apron was dirtier than the underside of Lancelot's chassis I am pleased not to have been poisoned by the rampant E Coli living on his clothing!
In this modern world where very unpleasant and often undeserved reviews are published by needy customers with an axe to grind somewhere one wonders why only one woman has written on Trip Advisor about how awful and expensive the place was and how unedifying her visit proved to be. Honesty please!
This was truly the worst meal I have ever been served - yes, worse than the roasted Monkey I was handed in Congo, worse then the dog I was given in Uganda, even Jarit in the longhouse in Borneo was not on this scale. The best meal ever? Easy, the cafe Monte Baldo Restaurant Verona. Colui che ha mangiato il cibo dei beni non può nutrirsi di offerte mortali. Seriously, if you have a spare weekend and can hop on a cheap flight do it, at the very least add it to your bucket list. Fat Duck at Bray? This beats it hands down!
Apologies for the digression. Pammukale, awful. Luckily Lycia awaited us and we were not disappointed.
Sadly the pools are empty at this time of year and the calcium carbonate slopes appear as a "dirty ski slope", aptly described by The Chief on seeing it. Luckily we only made a two hundred km diversion to see the wondrous site and our hotel was a mere 23 Euros for the six of us, yes, swimming dog included.
Having feared on a bonnet picnic along the way we decided to walk the mad hound in the adjacent hills and then find some supper. How to best describe Pammukale? Imagine something between the set of From Dusk til Dawn or a Dystopian Alan Whicker episode; a string of untidy shops selling everything from bathing trunks to plastic shoes and everything in between. All at inflated prices. The restaurants, wow, were we in for a treat.
Being early January everything was very quiet. One hotel was all of Chinese guests (ours too was full of signs in Mandarin and Cantonese) who chose to eat in. We should have followed their lead and shared the Spanish One's dry food. The most inviting place was decked out like a Moroccan desert hotel, with woven chairs, carpets and low cushions. Once the 250 decibel music was turned down it was quiet pleasant, even the huge screen showing the security cameras was quite arty and did not diminish the kitsch ambience of the place.
Then the food arrived...it was truly dreadful. The soup was from a packet, I am not sure what kind of packet, perhaps something containing Bob Martin's worming pills or IKEA door hinges, definitely not soup. 1980s ORP soup was haute cuisine in comparison. Inedible, although the lumps did give you something to chew on.
The Lamacun...for ease of description Lamacun is a traditional Turkish "pizza". Unleavened crispy bread with a topping of seasoned meat and tomato, usually the size of a decent dinner plate and costing around two to three Quid. What we got was the size of a side-plate and consisted of a supermarket purchased Mexican tortilla bread barely heated with tomato puree on it. YUK! We left, although I did pay the bill at a whopping £5.00.
Where do you begin? Clearly they make so much money they don't need return customers and judging by the chef whose apron was dirtier than the underside of Lancelot's chassis I am pleased not to have been poisoned by the rampant E Coli living on his clothing!
In this modern world where very unpleasant and often undeserved reviews are published by needy customers with an axe to grind somewhere one wonders why only one woman has written on Trip Advisor about how awful and expensive the place was and how unedifying her visit proved to be. Honesty please!
This was truly the worst meal I have ever been served - yes, worse than the roasted Monkey I was handed in Congo, worse then the dog I was given in Uganda, even Jarit in the longhouse in Borneo was not on this scale. The best meal ever? Easy, the cafe Monte Baldo Restaurant Verona. Colui che ha mangiato il cibo dei beni non può nutrirsi di offerte mortali. Seriously, if you have a spare weekend and can hop on a cheap flight do it, at the very least add it to your bucket list. Fat Duck at Bray? This beats it hands down!
Apologies for the digression. Pammukale, awful. Luckily Lycia awaited us and we were not disappointed.
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I wish you would speak in plain English.. I'm wearing Google out..
Bagnold and aeloian morphology indeed
It’s like around the world in 80 days 
,fantastic ,FIDO
,fantastic ,FIDO
Sorry Canny Lad! It's my education you see.. My Marines used to go on courses run by and with the Army and would get undeserved bollockings for using "Rupert Words" learned from me as a result of their exposure! English is such a wonderful language and I like to use the panoply of our vast and varied vocabulary, withkitu being a pompous twat! Forgive me, but don't expect a change though. Bagnold's books are required reading (along with Michael Asher and Gertrude Bell, not to mention Lawrence of course), if you want to fight in the desert and understand the people and environment. No amount of prior reading reduced my time on the shovel though.I wish you would speak in plain English.. I'm wearing Google out..
Bagnold and aeloian morphology indeed
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