Travelling to Stratford

I sometimes have occasion to visit Westfield Stratford City, and today was one of those days.  I was meeting the Daughter and Boy Too for coffee and lunch, and our annual visit to the sales - I needed a wedding garment, and was delighted to score one in Monsoon at half price; it would have been rude not to, really.

Anyway, I decided, just for fun, to catch a Javelin train to St Pancras to start me on my way home.  These go from Stratford International, as opposed to Stratford City, which is the main rail hub, and are not covered by my Freedom Pass, alas (but they do benefit from a Senior Railcard deduction). 

When I got to St Pancras, I decided to come home on the Thameslink to Loughborough Junction, as it's simply ages since I went that way, and then a 35 bus. 

That started me thinking of all the sensible ways I can go between home and Stratford.  I am not counting going on the northbound Overground from Clapham Common, as really, that isn't reasonable (it is fun, though), or any other completely ridiculous way.  But there are plenty of sensible ways.

The quickest, according to Citymapper, is to go from Clapham North to Bank on the Northern Line and then change to the Central Line.  I don't like that route, as it seems to have an inordinate number of steps, although I expect there are slightly less step-ridden ways.  I prefer to change at London Bridge on to the Jubilee line - today I found the step-free route to do that, which is a plus. 

One can also change at Bank on to the DLR, and then change again at Poplar (or at Canning Town, but that is two sides of a triangle).

Avoiding the Northern Line, one can go by bus - 35 or 133 - to Liverpool Street and then catch either the Central Line or a "proper train".  I've done that in my time.

You could go on the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus and then the Central Line.

Or you could go on the Victoria Line to Tottenham Hale and then a "proper train", which is a lovely route, but a bit two sides of a triangle.

Or you could go on the Victoria Line to King's Cross St Pancras, and then get a Javelin train (cost £5.00 or £3.50 with a Railcard). 

Or you could get a 59 bus to St Pancras, ditto.

Or the Thameslink from Loughborough Junction or Herne Hill, although as trains are only every half an hour to 20 minutes, you would need to time that one.  Also it needs a bus to the station.

Or you could get the Overground from Clapham High Street and change at Canada Water to the Jubilee Line.

It's amazing how many different ways of travelling to/from there are!  Yet to go to my daughter's, only a few miles from Stratford, the only realistic options are the Victoria Line, or, failing that, to go to Liverpool Street and get a Chingford Line train. 

Winter Break, Wednesday

We had - no, I had - a bit of a disappointment on Tuesday evening with our dinner.  Started with half a dozen snails - difficult to go wrong with those, and they were delicious.  But I had chosen paupiettes de volaille with langoustines to follow, and "bland" doesn't even begin to describe it.  Tasted of absolutely nothing, soaked in a floury pink sauce that also tasted of nothing.  The Swan Whisperer had ordered magret de canard sauce groseilles, which he said was delicious, and I wished I'd ordered that!  Then he'd ordered profiterolles, which I think I would have found too much, although they did look good.  I'd ordered the cheeseboard, which was Pont l'Eveque, Camembert and Livarot - just what we'd been watching made earlier in the day!  Which would have been gorgeous, but, alas, they had only just been taken out of the fridge.  So when nobody was looking, I wrapped them in my napkin and took them home to enjoy the following evening.

I think, on balance, that much as I love France, I prefer a country where it is light by 8:00 am, even if it is dark by 4:00 pm.  In France, because they are an hour ahead, but with almost no geographical displacement (Caen, where we were, is almost directly due south of Worthing), it stays light until about 5:00 pm, but of course it doesn't even begin to get light until about 09:00. 

We were hoping to get away by then, and it wasn't much later that we had packed our bags, loaded the car (airing it first, as it stunk of Livarot) and headed off.  As we had plenty of time, we decided to drive cross-country at first, visiting first of all Deauville/Trouville (which I always link with wealthy Brits in the 1930s flying themselves over and going to the casino or the races), and then to Honfleur, which we remembered as a very pretty little harbour, which it was. 

But then it was time for some serious motoring.  I finally worked out how to tell the Satnav to filter its Points of Interest, and to find us a supermarket near Abbeville, which is where we decided to do our shopping, and we set off, over the Pont de Normandie

and up the motorway to Abbeville, where the Satnav found us a Hyper-U and we did our shopping and had some lunch.  Although I had meant to buy some céléris rapés, and a couple of ready-meals for tonight, but forgot.  Got everything else we wanted, I think.  And then on to Calais, up a very empty motorway, and we decided to drive quickly round the town, rather disappointed that it wasn't dark enough to enjoy Calais' renowned Christmas lights (they make Oxford Street look distinctly dull), and then back to the Eurotunnel terminal.  The M20 made a stark contrast with the A28 - no danger of anybody feeling sleepy while driving on that.  We made it home just before 7:00 pm, and got unpacked and so on.   It was a good break, and I should have enjoyed prolonging it a couple of days, but being home and with my grandsons is good, too.

Winter break, Tuesday

A much better night's sleep, but I still have very little energy. We wanted to visit the Christmas markets this morning, and the SW was confident he had parked really near, but it seemed like miles. It was too near breakfast for gluehwein, alas, although they were selling it, and not all stalls were open. We had a potter round those that were, and bought one or two things. Then we went back down towards the car, but wanted to call in at the cathedral where William the Conqueror was buried, next to the town hall

so we found the entrance and went in. First thing we saw was the wonderful Christmas crib. The French do cribs so much better than we do. This one, correctly, had no Baby Jesus and no Wise Men as yet, but it was still lovely:

After looking round the Cathedral seeing the Conquerors tomb,

and, in my case, sitting quietly in front of the Blessed Sacrament for awhile, we came out and walked back to the car, passing the ruined church of St-Etienne, 

destroyed by British soldiers including, I have a horrible feeling, my father, who was certainly here or hereabouts in 1944

Then we drove up to and round the Castle, and up to the Memorial, but it was getting late and there was nowhere to park, so we came back to the hotel, bought fresh supplies in Monoprix, and had lunch. 

In the afternoon, we drove cross-country to Livarot, and found a factory that made the eponymous cheese, also Camembert and Pont L'Eveque. They didn't lay on a factory tour, as such, but you could wander round and there were films and information panels telling you about the dairy herds that produced the milk, mostly Normande  cattle, and then showing you how they made the various cheeses - and you could peep through windows to watch them being made, wrapped, etc. Fascinating and a great gift shop, including local court, so we stocked up. Then a wonderful drive to Falaise cross-country, through the village of Camembert (which also had a museum, but we didn't stop there as we were cheesed out (though not in any way cheesed off!))  

Falaise was lovely, although not much difference between its castle and the one in Caen that I could see.  And so back to Caen, and my insides are telling me it's supper time. 

Winter break, Monday

It is, I feel, just as well that I booked us a twin room, since we kept waking each other up by snoring, and I'm as glad we don't also wake each other up every time the other turns over! Mind you, I was waking myself up with my snoring....

But the hotel breakfast is pretty good. I'm a bit off coffee, but you can have fresh-squeezed orange juice - there is a clever machine that you feed whole oranges in one end and juice comes out the other. I have had at least two glasses both mornings so far.

So we were not out and about very early this morning, either! We had decided to go to Mont St Michel, about 116 km away.  The Satnav kept calling it Saint (pronounced the English way) Mitchell, which was rather irritating of it, but the computer voice does at least give road names and numbers so it is worth the irritation.

I hadn't been too sure what to expect, but it was incredibly impressive, both from a distance and close up. You have to park about a mile away, but there is a shuttle bus that takes you to within 500 metres of the village, with a very cold wind blowing in our faces.

 Once in the village, though, we were sheltered from the worst of the weather, and wandered round the do-the-tourist shops. I bought a pair of gloves, which I needed as I only had one glove with me, and later a slice of kouign amann to have as part of our lunch. When we got to the top of the street bit, the SW went on up the steps and I went back to the shuttle bus.

At which point, of course, the heavens opened and I got soaked to the skin! And frozen. At least the wind was behind me. So I sat on the bus, but the SW, who had not, after all, gone much further, joined me before it set off. He had been sheltered from the worst of the brief storm, and I was reminded of Augustus Toplady, who is said to have sheltered from just such a storm in the cleft of a rock, and then to have written that great hymn "Rock of ages, cleft for me".

After which pious thought, we decided to go on to St Malo, which is not very far away and was gorgeous. We told the Satnav to take us to the town centre, and I'm so glad we did, as this turned out to be in the old, walled city. We found a parking space, and then went in search of loos, but I decided a cup of tea would be welcome and we could use the facilities in the cafe, so we did, and it was! I finally dried and thawed out.  Then we wandered on, and found a place where we could look out over the beach.

We discovered, quite by chance, that we were almost back at the car - how did that happen? - and it was time to head back to the hotel, which we did, stopping for petrol and later for a leg-stretch. I then had time to potter round the shopping centre - not very exciting - and to buy some stuff for this sore throat, which seems to be helping.  

We ate in Hippopotamus, which was ok, I suppose. Not my favourite, but the SW likes it. And when we came back, there was an ancient Robin Hood film with Errol Flynn on, so we watched that, and now it's bedtime. 

Winter Break, Sunday

Unfortunately, although I seem to be successfully staving off a cold, a gang of little men appear to have been slashing at my throat with razor blades, which kept me awake half the night, although a cup of tea and an ibuprofen did help. But I felt like a wet dishrag, and after breakfast I went back to bed and slept most of the morning while the SW explored the town.  Lunch was a piece of fruitcake, after which we set off through the rain to Bayeux, to see the eponymous tapestry, which was marvellous. I'm so glad I've seen it in the flesh - I have seen pictures of it, of course, and my father has a book of it that he bought when he saw it a few years ago.  But the real thing has an impact unlike anything else.  There is a fascinating museum, too, not just about the tapestry, but also about the way life changed in Norman England after the Conquest. And a short film about the events it depicts. Brilliant. And worth the journey, quite definitely.

After this, we drove on up to Arromanches where the remains of the Mulbrrry harbour are all too plainly visible off-shore,

and then along the coast for a bit until it got too dark, whereupon we drove back to the hotel, and after a cup of tea, went out to a "Relais d'Alsace" restaurant, where we ate far too much choucroute, and I had a couple of scoops of sorbet and the SW had a chocolate thing, which I think has given him indigestion.  And an early night. I shall take an ibuprofen, and hope to sleep a bit better.

Winter break, Saturday

We haven't had a holiday since Oberstdorf, and the Swan Whisperer had plenty of leave days to use up, so here we are in Caen for a few days.  We set off from home at 8:25 this morning, only ten minutes later than planned, and had a fairly uneventful drive to Folkestone, getting used to our new SatNav, which is very clever and knows street names, but its French accent is appalling!

We got to Folkestone in plenty of time, but couldn't get on an earlier Shuttle as it was very busy - an awful lot of people appeared to be going on a pre-Christmas booze-cruise. And something went wrong - I don't know what - but we were sat in the holding bays for ages, and didn't actually get off until 11:20, 30 minutes later than scheduled. Not impressed!  However, it couldn't be helped.

Our first stop was at the Aire de la  Baie de Somme, which is a cut above your average service area, although the food was mediocre, and far too much. I didn't even try to finish my potato, onion and cream pie, which I think was supposed to have bacon in it, but maybe one lardon to a pound of spuds. Plus overcooked green beans (which I prefer to the raw ones we get in the UK), and carrots.  But then I had cheese, which was lovely -Roquefort, and a wonderfully ripe Camembert.

The thing I like about the Baie de Somme is the ducks.

And we weren't sure whether these were young coot or young moorhen:

Then we set off again, but needed petrol so came off the motorway at a pace called Totes, where there was a most peculiar Intermarché, which appeared not to sell essential things like coffee and tinned peas, but only fresh and frozen stuff, and non-food items. Luckily we only wanted fresh stuff for a picnic in our hotel room.

Back on the motorway and over the Pont de Normandie and on towards Caen, stopping once more for the SW to have a breath of air, and apart from trouble parking, we arrived safely at the hotel. And have settled in and eaten, and I am in bed, although not ready to snuggle down yet.

One new thing this holiday is that we have invested in a Liber-T pass, now available for British cars, which is wonderful - you just drive straight through the toll booths. It beeps to tell you it's read it, and then the barrier goes up. The T-only lanes barely slow you down.  It takes it out of your bank account by direct debit, and send you an invoice when you get home again.

Tesco Farm to Fork Trail

As part of their educational programme, Tesco's organise what they call "Farm to Fork" trails for schoolchildren - I believe farm visits are included, in some cases, as well as a look round the supermarket.  Normally these are done with primary school classes - I've seen classes going round our local Tesco's and been very impressed at  how engrossed and involved the children were.

So this half-term, Mumsnet teamed up with Tesco and organised Farm to Fork trails in several locations around the country, one of which was Leyton.  They were open to any child aged between 4 and 11, and so the Daughter, having checked with me first, signed up The Boy to be part of it.  She did check that it was okay for Boy Too to trail along in his pushchair, and was told this was fine, although I might have to carry him in the bakery (in fact, I didn't; he was allowed to stay in his pushchair).

We met up at Customer Service.  There were supposed to be 7 kids, but in the event, only 5 turned up.  There were two very bright children aged about 9 and 7, I think; a couple of small boys who were about 6 and 5, and my Boy, who is 4.  I'm not sure how well the wide range of age and ability worked - the co-ordinator, Stacey, said that normally you have a class so everybody is at about the same stage of reading and writing.  This lot ranged from total fluency, to my Boy who is only just beginning to read, and although he can write his name, it takes a very long time and much concentration!

We were taken up to a room in the back of the building, where the children were asked to put on hi-vis vests which had a picture of some vegetables or fruit on the front and "I'm learning where my food comes from" on the back.  They were then given paper hats to decorate and write their names on - the Boy did write his name, but also drew a picture of a carrot and a loaf of bread, both recognisable once you knew what they were.  He slightly threw everybody by insisting that black is his favourite colour, a theme he continued the rest of the day!

With their hats and high-vis vests on, the children were marched (literally) down to the main floor of the supermarket, and thus to the bakery department.  There, they discussed what things go into making bread, and marked them off on their worksheets (the three youngest needed help with this), and were given some dough to knead and play with.  "What", asked the eldest child, "was going to happen to the dough?"  and she was told that this particular batch would be used for animal food as they hadn't washed their hands before kneading it.

They had to wash their hands afterwards, and this took a bit of time as the dough was very sticky!  Meanwhile, the bakery manager had brought in some "Weirdoughs" for the children to taste - mini-doughnuts flavoured with bacon (surprisingly nice - I shared one with Boy Too, who enjoyed his half) and salt and vinegar.  I passed on that, but the Boy had two!  And a slice of "pizza bread" as the children christened the Mediterranean bread they were also invited to try.  That was delicious, and I looked for some afterwards to buy, but they had sold out.  Still, I shall look for it in our Tesco's.

Onwards, then, to the fruit and vegetable department, where between them they looked out for fruit and vegetables in all the colours of the rainbow, and the older ones were asked to look to see where they came from.

They also had their picture taken with Bananaman, who "happened" to be standing by the eponymous fruit. 

Then it was back off the shop floor, through the door marked "Staff only" ("You can only go there if you work there," as the Boy explained to his mother afterwards).  We looked at the huge warehouse and then there was a visit to the cold store, which was - cold!  The Boy covered himself with glory by answering, when asked what was kept in the fridge, "Yoghurt".  And, indeed, yoghurt, milk, butter and ham featured prominently in the trolleys.  Apparently the law requires these to be stored at no higher than 8C, but Tesco's internal regulations say they must be no higher than 5C.  In any case, the temperatures were nicely below that, so that was all right.

Back upstairs (Boy Too and I used the rather claustrophobic lift, which was too badly lit for my taste, but I wasn't going to carry both him and his pushchair upstairs!) to the conference room, where the really hands-on part of the day started.  First of all, the children - and the adults - were offered "Spooky Satsumas" ("They aren't spooky," said the Eldest Boy scornfully.  "They're just ordinary satsumas in a special box."  Poor Stacey had to agree that this was so!).  After this, they were given the opportunity to decorate, with more or less help from Stacey, a cupcake and a gingerbread man. 

 

After which, they were invited to taste goats' cheese and Cheddar, and compare the two, and then they were given a fruit kebab to eat.  With the various cries of "But I don't like...." whatever (raspberries and blackberries in The Boy's case) I felt faintly sorry for Stacey, but they mixed and matched.  We adults were given a kebab, too, and I shared my blueberries with Boy Too, who loves them.  I'd got him out of the pushchair, and he was happily sitting on the floor eating raisins and such largesse as people gave him! 

The final act of the day was for the children to make sandwiches to take home for their lunch - basically cheese and salad, though I don't think a single child used any of the lettuce that was provided!  The Boy said "I don't like salad!" but made his sandwich with tomato, cucumber and carrot, and later enjoyed it very much.  The sandwiches were bagged up to take home in a goody-bag which included a banana, raisins, some recipe sheets and some stickers.  And, of course, their worksheets and hats, and, best of all, a £20 Tesco voucher for the accompanying adults! 

I was glad to have gone on the "trail" myself, as I was interested, but had had my doubts as to whether the Boy was really old enough to enjoy it, but in the event he did, very much, and was very full of it afterwards.  I am not sure how much he will remember of what he learnt, but it was a fun outing for half-term.  All the same, I think it was as well we weren't a bigger group, as it was hard enough for the co-ordinator to cope with the different ages and abilities as it was.