Kurt of Gerolstein

There’s something special about a barbecue party in the middle of an ocean that simply can’t be reproduced on land. And last night’s one wa...

28 May The Azores and Madeira. Such memories. Such memories of 35 years ago, when we sailed the ‘Northern Star’ to those then unknown (to us...

Thursday 24 May 2007 It’s a whole week already since I set forth from Wokingham at the beginning of the watery part of my travels. A whole w...

Tuesday 22 May As you can see from the above byline, we have sailed! I am now afloat, for the first time in … well, I suppose it must be sev...

Ladies aaaaaand Gentlemen ..! The next five weeks’ worth of blog (which, obviously, won’t be uploaded until I hit Sefton at the end of June)...

Now, this is not a classically proportioned story. Well, would you expect one such from me? Don’t be silly. Normally, a show would have one ...

Next, we have our character players. All sorts. First, there are the dashing, aristocratic ones who sweep in and tell the juvenile man that ...

No show can even be imagined without ‘les girls’ and we are particularly well equipped in the glamour stakes. Even the Bolshoi or Berkby Bus...

And an international double act! David from Yorkshire and Dolores from West Virginia. David is our ‘chief’, only occasionally to be lured b...

Well, I’m here. I’m on. Lyndall and I got our dinner at La Vague – panaché de poissons again, with a fine bottle of Gevray Chambertin and th...

Dunkerque was not on the programme. Well, it was, but simply as the place into which our mini-bus would roll, allowing us to climb straight ...

I’m on my way. I’m writing this curled up in a nice maroon chair in the foyer of the office of Andrew Weir Shipping, the agents for the Bank...