Musings on a trip across the strange continent

Ischgl.

Hello dear reader,

there is free interweb access in the hotel in which I have taken rooms, and I am shamelessly exploiting it. So I am sat here at angels-four in the alps with a glass of what passes for claret in these parts.

Today has been a adventure - of sorts. Other than me trying to touch type with a keyboard set to foreign that is.

I visited chums in S London last night to start the hols with a bang. Discretion prohibits me from furnishing you all with the riper details of my escapades - suffice to say I awoke with a start fully clothed - an hour late for my trip, and had to hot foot it across The garden of blighty to get to the tunnel on time. This I failed to do - but those splendid coves at TransManche sorted me out and I only missed a hour off my journey.

Consequently I found myself in the Pas de Calais with a grade two eye twister and 1100 foreign miles to thunder to my desitination. Fortunately, the Alvis was going like a dream and barring a moment's hesitation here or there, I found myself on the Brussels ring road.

I reflected momentarily on the vista laid before me in the drizzle.

This has to be why we own atomic weapons I pondered. One day - our benighted leaders will take it upon themselves to use them on this town. Even the Belgians will finally thank us for turning this place into glazed glass. In the long run.

But I could not dally. I had a schedule to keep. To the frontier!

And so I continued across Belgium, Holland and even - dare I say it Germany. The only crumb of comfort I had was 10 cds of unabridged Patrick O'Brian to keep me company. The hours oozed by as I soaked up the tales of glory and sailcloth and the Alvis ate the miles. The exchange rate for foreign miles is about the same as their strange money to The God Given Pound - so it seemed even faster.

Finally the frontier into Austria lay before me, as I purchased my motorway ticket for the country.

We all draw inspiration from our environs - but still my thoughts were dry, focussed and - frankly - dull. I was hoping for musings concerning Eagle's nests, lederhosen, edelweiss et al. No. All that was going through my head was a resolute and lantern jawed determination to get to the chap-pad have a shower and settle in.

Imagine my joy at beng greeted with valet parking and a free glass of champagne! Elysium be here! Only fly in the ointment was the desperately camp reception cove.
No - I can handle my own luggage, no, I don't need you to turn my bed down, no I can collect my keys from reception. Listen old chap - don't be offended, but please stop cooking up ever more tenuous excuses to come to my room. He appeared crestfallen. Or it was gas. These continental types are a bit inscruitable. And a they have a prediliction to obscene quantities of pickled cabbage - at least to levels that do not befit a gentleman.

Have prepared the tweeds for outdoor activities tomorrow by rubbing them liberally with rendered seal blubber - i shall be warm and waterproof and should I desire an evening's 'Clubbing' I should at least smell moderately Canadian.

I shall report with more tales of wonder tomorrow. I plan to set up a conrol room at the top of the cable car, after I have rented some ice-axes, a JU 87 and resurrected the ghost of Richard Burton to look after the radio.

Schitzel count: 1.
Strudel status: Negative. However, they give them free with schnapps here. I fear for my body beautiful.

Adieu! Adieu! To Yiue and Yieu and Yiue!

PS: Will probably get over the Sound of Music references in good time.