The Angelico Austrian Adventure - define service ceiling?

This morning we woke in good spirits and proceeded downstairs. The interminable process of eating, the humans' favourite pastime, was soon over and we got on the bus. Unlike yesterday the skies were as blue as we try to make them in The Gondoliers and the sunshine was doing its job of illuminating everything. Midga made sure he had his camera with him, at least a few shots should come out well.

We had to pay extra for today's tour, but it was well worth it. The first stop was Krimml Falls - the most amazing series of waterfalls you could imagine. There was a walking trail to get up to the top, but we only made it about half way up before it was time to head back down again. Still, the views were stunning, and we saw several flowers that might have been edelweiss. On an unrelated note, Midga got to play with his camera a lot, including macro mode and lots of zoom.

As we got higher our rate of climb dropped. It took us about five minutes to do the last 25m, and since service ceiling is defined as the point where rate of climb at maximum takeoff power drops to 100ft/min we were well above our ceiling. At least we didn't need oxygen masks.

From there we went to Kitzbuhel, which is a skiing town but has enough people that aren't tourists with no sense of the value of a Euro that we were able to find a bakery selling apfelstrudel for a reasonable price. From the way the humans ate it I can well believe LeBeau would count it as his first choice for a means of using Treatment A on Schultz.

There was also a railway station, with a level crossing which had a long express setting so we got good warning of a train approaching. As a station it was nothing special (the stations on whatever network this is are very like ours - minimal facilities, bare concrete, etc) but we had two EMUs and two freight trains go through in the space of a lunchtime, which was perfect for taking advantage of the great photo weather.

The road to Kitzbuhel parallels an old narrow gauge line (it looked like about 2'0" or 2'6" when we crossed it), where diesel trains run regular services but during summer two trains a day are steam hauled. We passed one of each on the way, but photos from a moving bus aren't easy to take. The steam loco was a 2-8-0 with a four wheel tender. The driving wheels were tiny but the loading gauge was quite generous so I bet it had quite a decent bit of tractive effort. Probably the strangest thing was seeing narrow gauge rails on 100% concrete sleepers with deep ballast. It's like being in the Queensland coal fields but even more so.

What with the weather and the scenery (and the trains) it was probably the best day we've had yet, but there really isn't much to put into a blog post. So to pad it out I'd like to tell you all how funny it is to hear Midga trying to speak German.

Having lived his entire life speaking only one human language and one or two computer languages (apart from that brief episode in which he tried to learn French, with very mixed success), he is now madly pulling together everything he's absorbed unconsciously from the Goons, Biggles, various war movies and the technical specs of German planes and trains, and trying to use it in conversation. Guten morgen. Haben sie, bitte, ein T-Mobile SIM card? Nein? Danke schoen. Of course it helps that almost everyone speaks English, and that there are some conversations (Ullo. T-Mobile SIM card? Nah. OK.) which sound exactly the same in both langauges.

Interestingly, the guttural sounds we always expect to hear in a German phrase don't seem to be much in fashion here. Apparently that's mainly from the Swiss. Everyone here sounds just like Fraulein Hilda, even when they're locals talking to other locals rather than to foreign tourists trying to absorb the local culture.

But just like the French, they reward tourists who make an effort. Today when Asha ordered strudel in Kitzbuhel, she did it in German and was rewarded with a big dollop of whipped cream for no extra charge. (She couldn't finish it but she has a devoted husband who is always willing to help out with such things.)

Tonight there's a trivia quiz, with tour guide Spencer as quiz master. Should be fun! And tomorrow - Salzburg.

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - shaken to the core (all four of them)

I've known Midga all my life, and though I'm aware he made a few slight changes in his lifestyle when he met Asha, I would never in 1,048,576 years have guessed he would voluntarily get up and dance. There's so much to tell that I hardly know which parts are the highest priority. However, for the sake of my listeners I will forego interrupt-driven programming and present the events of tonight in a pure top-down layout.

We arrived at the dining room of the hotel right on 8:30pm and saw some people in traditional dress. This promised to be a good evening. We sat down at a table with some people from our group, which happened to be next to an electronic keyboard and a piano accordion. On closer examination the keyboard had three pedals under it and quite a number of buttons and soft keys, and the accordion had a cable coming out of it. Rosuav, you would have loved it. The player/singer ran it all as a one man band - the pedals switched between pre-set programs to control the rhythm and choice of instruments in the bass section (chords were controlled by the bottom half of the keyboard), the percussion section was controlled by buttons, and he was singing as well as playing the melody on either the accordion or the top half of the keyboard. It was fascinating to watch him getting the most out of the machine's features.

As expected, he opened with some traditional Austrian music, similar to the stuff we'd heard in the bummelbahn. Midga was sitting there tapping his foot and just enjoying the music. I could understand that. But then the music changed a bit - it went a bit more modern. Now I have to tell you something about Austrian music - it's not all written in waltz time. Quite a lot of it is in 4/4 or 2/4 and is great for marching or working to. And this particular song was in 4/4 and had a bit of a blues groove to it. And what did Midga do but ask Asha to dance! I thought it must have been a joke because so many other couples were on the floor but they really did it! There wasn't a director telling him to dance or a choreographer telling him how, but he did it anyway. I don't know what's real and what's not - maybe I'm hallucinating from the effect of the altitude and being offline for so long.

Anyway, after that the traditional dancers came on and did their thing. For the men there's a lot of very fast, very accurate high kicking, knee slapping and foot slapping. They were perfectly in time and it looked and sounded amazing. Once you looked closer you could see that some of the foot slaps were in front and some were behind, it alternated left and right feet, and there must have been a pattern to it all because they were all doing the same thing. For the girls it consisted mostly of spinning. Of course they were wearing long skirts, which obeyed the laws of physics. When the couples paired up it initially looked like they were just going to walk around in a circle, but then you could see the men were each grabbing the thumb of the next in line and their arms were twisted around in a manner which defied physiology.

They must have been tired after that, because the one man band came back on and played some more music. I guess after the last eipsode I should have been prepared for Midga to get up and have another go, but I was still processing the traditional dance. Anyway, a few songs in it was a waltz, and off he went again. Asha declined, so he asked another lady at our table. She declined too, so he shamelessly opened it up to the whole table. And when that didn't work he went over to some people we'd spent a bit of time with at various places on the tour, and one of them got up and danced with him. Right in front of her husband too. I have to say, he's improved a bit since Diana Burleigh told him "That was the funniest looking waltz I ever saw in my life". Probably the effect of having been a Greek diplomat on stage.

It went on for quite a while - a few songs from the band (most of which were in English, from various eras, but played on Austrian instruments, real and synthesised), and then the traditional dancers would get up and do a piece. Most of them depicted activities of everyday life - the first was milking cows, so they came on with buckets and one legged stools, carefully put them down in the centre of the circle, did their knee slap routine, and then squatted down and acted out milking in time to the music. There were some funny bits, eg one audience member was getting quite close with his camera so they mimed squirting him with the milk. One of the guys tried to sneak a peek under the skirt of one of the girls and he got slapped in the face, and all in time to the music.

After a few more songs they did a dance about milling flour, which included some incredibly fast (it looked quite dangerous in fact) whirling around in circles, meshing to depict the gear wheels that crushed the heads of grain. Then it went to a more sedate winnowing, then mixing. I forgot to say that for each dance them came out in the appropriate headwear and accessories, so in this case white caps and aprons.

The next one was mining, so the guys came out with their heads bent and mimed swinging picks to the light of lamps. That ended with a cry of "FIRE!" and they actually lit a platter full of something that burned blue, then orange, then back to blue. They had doused the lights before coming out so it looked quite impressive. The last one they did was bell ringing, which didn't seem to have much point to it except that they played along with the accordion using two or three bells each which made up the octave and a bit.

Then when we thought they'd finished and it was just going to be the Minister for Aerial Music playing for dancing for all ranks, back they come and pick members of the audience to join them for their original opening dance. Well, you'd think Midga might have had enough of making a fool of himself, but no, he jumped up like a Roulettes bomb burst formation and one of the dancers put a Tyrolean hat on his head. Then came what seemed like hours of limbs flying around in all directions, and then the drinking dance. Shots of neat spirit, they looked like, and not the simple 30ml shots you can buy in a pub at home, quite generous ones. I looked quizzically at Asha because she doesn't like the way he acts when he's drinking, but she was too busy filming the whole sordid scene to worry. I guess having gone so far he could hardly turn back. Anyway, he downed it in one, and then it was congratulations all round and he sat down again.

That was it for the traditional dancers but the accordion player kept going, like old Outback 'Arry at Ballagundi. Luckily Midga's last dance was cut short when Asha's toe started sending her non-maskable interrupts for emergency relief. According to what he told some of the other guests it was a Charleston they were dancing - which Jeeves once said is a great way to find out whether anyone has been stealing silver spoons and hiding them under their outer garments.

Thankfully for my peace of mind, that was the last indiscretion committed by the shameless couple whom I serve. The music ended, they went upstairs to bed, and I settled down to sooth my ruffled feelings.

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - He inhaled and got a pane in his stomach

Breakfast this morning was on the house, and was about as big as a house too. The sideboard went right round two walls of the dining room.

The other people on the tour are quite a mix. There's a lot of retired couples of course, but there's another honeymoon couple, a single guy on his first trip overseas, and some ladies who met on a trip years ago and have been taking their holidays together ever since.

The coach left at noon and headed for Alpbach. Heading down the mountain in a 13m coach is quite an experience. The mountain roads have no kerb, no footpath and no nature strip - there's just a road, and then a solid stone retaining wall holding up the side of a mountain. Or on the other side, a series of timber posts and then a long drop. I guess the way it works is, if you can navigate a mountain road and still be alive at the end of it, you're allowed to go 130km/h on the autobahn.

Alpbach itself wasn't all that interesting. It was quite steep, which gave us better views of the scenery, but it wasn't all that much better than what we saw yesterday from the bummelbahn. We stopped at a cafe for lunch, intending to soak up the local culture with some apfelstrudel, but by the time the humans had finished their mains there wasn't time for dessert so we went back to the coach.

Midga asked Spencer (our hilarious tour guide) if he knew a joke about a glass blower, and Spencer offered him the microphone. It was just like the time he was SM before he got told off for abusing the dressing room tannoy. The bus rocked to the sound of groans and laughter. (What was the joke, you ask? You'll have to guess it. Or Google it if you like, there's a hint in the title.)

And so we headed to Rattenberg, the centre of the glass blowing industry. There was of course a guided tour and we watched a glass blower making a swan and a cat. Ornaments made out of blown glass look amazing in a shop, but they have to be dusted daily (or more), polished with vinegar three times a week, and guarded around the clock against scratches and fingerprints in order to stay that way. By this time it was raining heavily, so we went into various shops just for shelter from the weather. We ended up at a pub and the humans needed some hot chocolate, which was expensive but good quality. Then it was back to the bus.

There's a station at Rattenberg, not on the high speed network but still electrified. We saw a few four-car EMUs go through, and they were quite speedy. Don't forget Europe's definition of high speed rail is quite different to ours - Regional Fast Rail, the XPT, the Cairns Tilt Train and the Prospector would all be classed as slow over here.

We also saw a centre cab electric loco go through, light engine. We didn't see much of it (there's a timber fence up to about half way to the wires) but the pantograph looked like a fairly old model. Midga initially thought it was a Crocodile, but that would have been too amazing for words. Anyway, the noses weren't long enough. But it was quite exciting anyway.

The humans are now about to head downstairs for dinner, after which there's a special "Tyrolean evening" - traditional music, dancing and drinking. That will quite possibly deserve a post of its own.

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - in which the second shooter isn't on the grassy knoll

Midga and I were both in suspend mode when Asha came in from doing various errands around town. There was a train she wanted us to ride! But one thing Midga and I have in common is that we find it hard to come out of suspend mode when low on battery, and while we were fussing around it left. So we waited an hour (not a bad frequency for a tourist service) and tried again.

The "bummelbahn" is basically a Land Rover dressed up with a boiler and funnel, towing an air braked trailer carrying about 20 people. It goes up the mountain stopping at most of the villages, and plays a tape like the City Circle, but in both German and English. When there's no talking going on it plays traditional Austrian music, some of which is familiar to us.

At the top station the humans got out to take photos. They turned out just like every other tourist photo ever taken, but in real life it's quite beautiful. At one point Midga climbed to the top of a hill, or knoll, in a grassy paddock for a better vantage point, and Asha stayed at the foot of the hill. Midga started snapping away first, which made Asha the second shooter. Geddit?

On the way up we had seen a few things we liked the look of, so we did the stopping-all-stations thing on the way down, staying for an hour at each stop due to the service frequency. Unfortunately the wood museum was closed, so we just walked around and looked through the windows. There was an outdoor model railway layout as well, which was well worth a look. When we're at a model railway expo at home European models don't merit a second glance, but over here they fit into the landscape perfectly.

After using up the remaining time drinking chocolate (hot for Midga, iced for Asha) and buying a multi-purpose sun hat, the next stop down the mountain was a hotel which featured a welcome board on a nine cylinder radial engine with a two blade propeller. Round the side of the hotel were two classic tractors, of a make we'd never heard of. Unfortunately it was closed too, or we would have gone inside to see if there was anything else interesting.

We killed the rest of that hour sitting in the outside dining area of a closed cafe. It was a big day for closed shops. The wind was blowing straight into the enclosure, and bringing all the flies with it. Austrian flies obviously get an easy time of it from the locals, and Midga was able to clock up a kill ratio of 4 for 6 in not much time. The flies didn't even take the hint when he waved them away with his hands still reeking with the blood of their predecessors.

The next stop was the farming museum, which was, you guessed it, also closed. There wasn't much to see through the windows either. Rather than waiting another 57 minutes we walked home, which took us about as long but we were able to drop in at a supermarket on the way. Asha didn't like the sparkling mineral water she'd bought that morning, so we were standing there in the shop staring at the German words and trying to spot useful keywords in all the marketese. Without an internet connection I didn't have a clue. We also looked for a SIM card but no luck.

Both the humans went into a deep discharge and trickle charge cycle straight after dinner. Tomorrow our coach touring starts!

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - Guten nacht fellow bus passengers, und nicht snoring bitte

I think I mentioned in my last update that we were just arriving, having sat quietly smoking our monkeys for the rest of the voyage. In Calais, we left the noisy kids. By rejoining our bus on the car deck (in French) we escaped detection and made for the autobahn.

On that note, I had neglected to mention that the queues at the ferry's restaurant were as long as the fork on a pole Major Bloodnok used to spear Neddie's kipper, so we waited for a bit before eating. When we got there they were closing the place up because we were just about in France...

So we got on our bus and met our new tour guides. They told us there's a new way of scanning passports for immigration into France, by opening our passports and holding them up at the window. Lolz. I guess they must send our details to customs ahead of time and then the bus is automatically waved through. But this is just a tiny taste of what's to come with a clown like this as our tour guide. (A few examples from various points in our journey: "We have a sharp bend in the road here ladies and gentlemen. It was designed by that famous German road engineer, Herr Pin." "You can sometimes see deer crossing the road here. Always young ones, you know why? Because all the old dears are on board this bus.")

Just as we head out of Calais we see our first French train. It's only a rake of car carrying wagons, and they're four wheelers with buffers. Seriously? You even had a major rollingstock retirement program thanks to the rocket-equipped Mustangs and Typhoons in advance of the D-Day landings. Why wouldn't you get proper auto coupled bogie stock to replace it? I guess as a Victorian I can't talk. We call it Operation Phoenix but it included a few hundred steam locos and a few thousand GY wagons, not to mention the hump yard, instead of mass produced off-the-shelf diesels and moves towards containerisation on 80 foot Jumbo wagons.

The next impression we get is, as we're crossing railway lines a lot of them are single track. That's fair enough, they're probably quiet branch lines, but they're electrified! If they're busy enough to justify copper overhead for the sake of a small reduction in tonne-km costs, surely they're busy enough to be duplicated?

Maybe that has something to do with the ratio of car to truck traffic on the autobahns. Our freeways usually have about five cars for each truck travelling. In France and Germany it's the other way round - it's quite rare to see a car on the autobahn, and those that do usually zoom past at 130km/h or more. High speed rail has killed off the car traffic, but freight still goes by road. Interestingly in Belgium it's not that way - the proportion is much like in Australia. We were told by our guide that Belgium prides itself in having a huge motorway system, bigger than Britain's in fact, and that over 90% of it has street lights.

The exit ramps were interesting to Australian eyes. Instead of "Reduce speed now" and a 60km/h speed limit about half way to the traffic lights, they have four speed limit signs each about 100m apart, to tell people exactly how fast to slow down. Imagine the outcries of "revenue raising!!!!!!!111111" if VicRoads tried to do that...

By the time we got to Germany it was quite late, but it wasn't fully dark until about 11pm. There were some roadworks, which in Germany are done very thoroughly - they had painted yellow lines to show new lane placement (without removing the white lines) and all the warning signs looked fairly permanent by our standards. Imagine how much preparation work had to happen before they started the "real" job of resurfacing or widening or whatever it was... In some places where they'd used the shoulder there wasn't enough room for two full lanes, so they had one normal width and one for cars only. Fair enough, but the sign telling us that told us exactly how wide each lane was, to the nearest 10mm. Germany is still ruled by engineers, I think.

We kept driving overnight, with the two drivers/tour guides taking shifts. Sleeping on the bus was like sleeping on a plane, and I got quite a work-out because at every stop (of which we had several, about every two hours or so) Midga would connect to WiFi, load heaps of Verity Stob or BOFH in tabs, and then read them while everyone else on the bus was snoring noisily away.

There were several train sightings, but of course we have no idea what they were. Electric locos with pointed noses, regional DMU sets, rakes of container wagons - and in Holland, a yellow double ended set which looked like an EMD streamliner but not quite. Taking photos from a bus at 100km/h is tricky and not many of them came out well.

This morning we arrived at our hotel in Austria at about 7am local time, and have now checked in to the hotel and plugged in to power. The humans are looking at either doing some tours or just taking it easy (ie sleeping and looking around the town). We'll see what happens.

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - Crossing the Channel

In Dover we got off our bus and went into the waiting lounge, which was a sort of truck stop with a bit of fast food and a bar. Midga found power, which was good because I was down to 13% battery, but in the time before we were called for departure we couldn't manage to find WiFi.

On the bus we were greeted by our two drivers (they do it as a relay so the bus can keep moving all night) and told (lol j/k) to enjoy our trip to Blackpool. This is going to be a good trip.

The on-duty driver threaded the needle and got us on board the boat, and we were allowed to get off and enjoy the facilities. We found a convenient table with power and a view, and I got double duty with a phone on each USB port. Some noisy kids were hanging around for a bit but eventually they lost interest and left us in peace. There are SO MANY ferries passing us! No wonder they built the Chunnel - but I must say something's not right if the slow method is still very popular when the fast method is available. Maybe it's expensive. The lack of a view out can't be that important to truckies who do this all the time.

The sea is as flat as a pond - which reminds me, we passed a pond as we went through Kensington and I wondered if it was the Kensington Round Pond or the Kensington Square Pond - not that it matters, Ned Seagoon swam them both in his lead-up to the Great Regent's Park Swim with his bottle of green liquid.

The interior of the ship is quite dated - marbelled melamine walls, rivetted aluminium skirting boards, prominent air vents and sprinkler heads in the roof. Reminds me somewhat of Bob Ansett's story about the inter-island ferries in New Zealand. But the service is good - when Midga asked for a piece of ice to put on Asha's toe (which has swollen and looks like a bruise, which means it's broken) he got a whole bag full. He also got asked (very anxiously) whether the incident had occurred on board, in which case paperwork would have to happen. He was delighted to assure the staff member that this would not be necessary.

The furniture is quite convenient - side tables for laptop cases, I mean drinks, relaxing couches with plenty of padding and a view of whatever's out the window, and stone topped card tables. A lot more fun than being crammed into the bus. I wonder if that will still be true when Smart Passengers brings in buses with 2+1 seating at 1167mm pitch for intercity services where there's no rail reservation.

Right now I've got just about a full charge, the phones aren't far behind and the humans are about to head to the restaurant to do the same. The next post will be from the continent. Maybe I'll put on an accent.

The Angelico Austrian Adventure - Landing in London

Nothing much happened that flight. I was stuck in the overhead locker the whole time because the humans were watching movies and eating. We landed a few minutes early and started to navigate Heathrow...

The airport itself is much like any other airport, but bigger. From my vantage point inside my case, under a towel and a coat, and inside Midga's backpack I had a perfect view. NOT. But I could tell by the pace of the walking that the humans were running low on battery power.

Getting through customs and immigration is relatively easy, and we head to the baggage carousel. Since we'd been close to last off the plane there weren't many items left so we had no trouble grabbing them and getting out. Now, which way to trains?

Unfortunately the Heathrow Express doesn't seem to realise that planes land at all hours of the day, so the information booth was closed. 6am on a Sunday morning, people should be at home in bed! But there was enough printed information there that we could see the express wasn't what we were looking for.

The tube station was at the opposite end of the airport. The humans bought Oyster cards (I travel free), which are just like a Myki but done right. Response time through the gates is instantaneous. It even handles zones correctly.

The train is waiting in the platform as we approach and the PIDS says three minutes. We jump aboard. Midga bumps his head. Ah, the Tube loading gauge! Heathrow is on the Piccadilly line, and there's three different stations for the various terminals. They're in a weird kind of loop and spur, which I don't understand and don't really want to because it goes right against Jarrett Walker's concept of lines that don't split. Let's just say it seems like a good idea not to go into Terminal 5 and expect a high frequency tube connection.

Shelly has given us very precise directions for how to change trains, get the bus from the station and find her house. It's pretty painless despite the spiderweb layout of the tube - obviously once you know the system it's just as easy to use as a radial one. We turn up later than we expected due to taking it easy on the trip, and the humans eat and gasbag until it's time for church.

We take the bus to church, just because we can. It's a beautiful old stone and brick church, with a modern interior grafted into the main hall. There are about 50 people there, and a good mix of ages. The minister has four children, including a teenage daughter who knows how to break up squabbles between the two youngest. I like that in a teenager.

After the service Shelly gets Midga a trip up into the bell tower. It's had OH&S equipment added but all the solid timber flooring (with holes cut into it for the bell rope) and grilled windows are of the classic style. Midga chickens out of going past the second level because the ladder isn't attached and the last thing Asha's arm needs is a nasty wrench from trying to stop her darling husband from falling. But he was wearing his "I'm in England looking at old stuff" grin when he came down.

He was on such a high that he told the girls he'd be delighted to go shopping and even carry their bags. Well, if he'd decided not to he'd have regretted it, because as shopping trips go this was one of the most exciting since the time Mum's purse got pinched when she was shopping for whatever birthday party that was.

Asha wanted to go to Sainsburys for lunch, just for the experience of eating at a cafe-in-a-supermarket. As we got to Sainsburys a security guard told us it was closed. That's not normal. Midga postulated that it must have been a bomb threat and Shelly said he was such an Australian for thinking the worst but not panicking about it. We were told half an hour would see the situation under control so we took a stroll around.

About 20 minutes later we were back, and asked the security guards how long. Now they said they couldn't put a time on it. Hm, that means they haven't found the package yet. We were just mulling that over when the evacuation alarm sounded - the whole corner of the shopping centre was being closed and we had to move. Now would be a good time, please.

Well, if mountain won't come to Mohammed, the road will pass under the chicken. So our heroes girded their loins and used the power of their leg muscles to force the earth to turn until another supermarket-with-a-cafe was in front of them. What could be sweeter? They shopped for snacks for the trip and for general groceries. They were just about to order food from the cafe when that evacuation alarm went off again! The whole shopping centre was closed off. Someone used the word "fire" on the PA, which Midga was always taught never to do because it causes panic, but surely if a fire at the other end of the centre had lasted an hour we'd know about it? Bomb threat and gas leak remain the best theories.

The footpaths outside the shopping centre were packed like New Years Eve, and the bus bay was so crowded they couldn't safely move a vehicle around, so they diverted the buses to a nearby stop. Eventually we navigated our way through and found a place for lunch. It was a Middle Eastern restaurant, which meant they had every combination of meats and different spices and herbs to cook them in. I was prepared to be bored, like I normally am at meal times, but the conversation was fascinating.

We headed home and the conversation continued to be fascinating. It was one of those conversations which segued from one topic to the next without even a hint of a pause. It ranged from the antics of some of the children from church to the merits of studying psychology. Nap time, still talking. Dinner time, still talking. Bed time, still talking. I guess I shouldn't complain, it's like when I've been offline for ages and need to synchronise. Eventually they turned in, leaving me to charge both phones from my USB ports.

So they woke up this morning, an hour early because Midga's phone got the daylight savings thing wrong. Get up, pack up, get on the bus, and head for London Victoria. Asha managed to damage one of her feet by trying to kick a hole in Midga's Officeworks bag, so she's limping and can't curl her toes. Great timing. Still, they get to the bus stop and cram onto a peak hour bus without too much trouble.

The tube is another matter. It's standing room only when we get on, and gets toward sardine tin proportions as we pass through Sloane Square and South Kensington stations. Yep, really. Luckily the hoarde that got on weren't ravenous, because we want our penny ice and cold meat for the trip.

We thought the bus station would be fairly close to the British Rail station but it really wasn't. A local told us it was a five minute walk, but when you've got a broken toe five minutes of walking translates into fifteen minutes of hobbling in agony. Midga was doing the whole "in sickness and in health" thing by carrying all the luggage (some of the time) so he was hobbling a bit too. Luckily we got to the right place with about two minutes to spare.

The bus was delayed... traffic had been bad and there was some other sort of delay further up the line, so it was more than an hour after departure time before we got underway. The conductor was very apologetic about it, and the company had told a different bus to do all the other pickups and meet us at Dover, so we had a chance to catch up. It sure didn't feel like we were doing all that well, what with the inner London traffic and tiny streets, and I wondered why on earth a tour bus would want a central London pickup point. Why not just go round the ring road and get people to take the train? But anyway, by the time we got onto the main motorway that leads to Dover we were back on time, so we were able to stop at a place called Medway Service for lunch. It was really just a truck stop, but the British like to name things.

We did have one pickup in Canterbury. To get to the bus stop we had to go past a massive stone wall with battlements and everything! I wonder if it was the official residence of the Archbishop, dating back to when the church had an army of its own.

Dover is amazing. As we came in (down a road with a 5% grade with lots of warnings saying "All trains stop to pin down brakes", or rather, "Test brakes, stay in low gear") we could see a massive parking area, container terminal, multiple ferry loading points, port buildings, and towering over it all were the famous white cliffs. Quite a sight.

As we're now leaving England (for a bit, anyway) I'll take this opportunity to talk about the buses and the tube.

Buses run at real frequencies most of the time. They all have either Turn Up And Go or clockfaced timetables, and the routes are as simple as possible in an old world city with streets going on all sorts of angles. They're really red, and they're really double deckers, and everything else about them is just like a modern bus anywhere else.

The tube is everything I've been told about it. The routes are designed to garner cash for PFYs from French tourists, but the frequency is great. There's a lot of limitations of technology which make the customer experience worse than it should be - the most obvious is the limited loading gauge on some lines which means they have a different platform height. Where different lines share the same tracks and platforms this is a problem, so it seems the platforms alternate in height and the trains have annoucements to mind the gap at just about every station.

Signalling is single aspect, which probably doesn't matter since there's extra tracks for expresses so everything is running to the same stopping pattern.

There's quite a bit of distance between stations in a lot of places, which I wasn't expecting. I guess when you have an underground system a station costs a bomb so you don't overdo it. The top speed of the trains is pretty good (I estimated 90km/h in a few places) so the station spacing means we can go longish distances pretty quickly. It's just a bit weird looking at the map and thinking "Oh, only two stops to London Victoria, we'll be there in a few minutes", and then keep barrelling along for ten minutes or more.

There's obviously been extra tracks and platforms in a lot of places, and the reservation is just being used to store bags of gravel, or even just as a rubbish dump. When we're looking at acquiring people's houses for space to put in vital infrastructure it's heartbreaking to see it just going to waste.

The trains themselves are very well designed. Their doors are quite fast, their seats are mainly along the sides for maximum capacity, and they accelerate out of stations like a good metro should. The interiors are nothing special. There isn't as much graffiti and vandalism as we're used to, but the general grubbiness and shameless internal ads are the same.

In short: Melbourne can learn a lot from London, but it's far from perfect and there is no reason to hold it up as an example to follow. Under no circumstances should anyone advocate (to take a completely random example) limiting certain designs of train to certain lines "because they do it like that in London". Not looking at anyone in particular, PTV.

I'm speaking to you now from a patch of water just off the coast of Dover. But that's a topic for another post.