The Alphabotley Run

The Otley Run is so well known that I never chose to do it during 32 years in Leeds. It's not actually well-defined; various versions have differing numbers of pubs. This number fluctuates with taste and local knowledge.

But I shall be leaving Leeds, so in Mark's words, "It's gotta be done". Stuff the rules - I discarded the traditional ordering & certainly didn't do them all in one afternoon. Alphabetically seemed the best approach, but a proper drink [at least] seemed important.

It took from March 2nd until May 16th. But it was thorough: I recorded

• Beverage and cost
  
• Date/time
  
• Apposite photographs
  

I also composed useful illustrative comments for others, and assigned descriptive keywords.

These data are readable for your enjoyment.

Deutscher Urlaub

So we travel to Köln by way of a weekend break.

“Have you come to flee the royal wedding?” asks the hotel receptionist. “You have it right”, I say, “All 6 of us”. [This exchange conducted in German.]

So we saw Köln cathedral, the Ludwig Gallery, the Rhine, u.s.w., but the highlights had to be:

• The Düsseldorf Nord-Friedhof, featuring the grave of Rosemarie Nittribit (now complete with head). Splendidly understated WW1 and WW2 sections, and a memorial mason’s supermarket. And an apiary.
  Some pictures exist.
  
• The Marine Olberman stores on Bayenstrasse: so good we had to visit it twice, on both occasions getting a frosty reception from the staff who spoke so much German it was clear that they knew we weren’t taking them seriously.
  Some pictures exist, and we bought things which I will display on request.
  
• The Lego shop. Oh wow, if Lego were edible, would this place make you fat. Just had to be satisfied with Woodie and the Rabbit/Egg tableau.
  Some pictures exist.
  

The Kölner cable car, incidentally, travels directly over the spa baths where large middle aged Germans disport themselves nakedly. A picture exists, but I have chosen to share it with precisely one special friend.

Other pictures exist that reconstruct the experience rather well.

Like coals to Newcastle

Taking the bees to Aberystwyth wasn't really anything like taking coals to Newcastle at all.

Get 3 experienced beekeepers in a row & ask them a question; they will give you three contradictory answers. The one exception was asking about taking two hives from Leeds to west Wales: "You'll be fine", I was told by all. In fact, they were right, but I lost some sleep over it.

Preparation? Fly mesh is good - they sell it at Spence's at the bottom of Wellington Road. They look at you a bit oddly if you only ask for a couple of feet since they sell it by the mile, but that was all I needed. Then I liberated some drawing pins from work and had implemented a home made travelling screen.

Moving day: I wake at an absurd time to get some serious early worrying done. My noble friend Tracy couldn't be dissuaded from helping me load: I offered him protective gear but he preferred to dress as a Leeds 6 hoodie. He showed no fear as we loaded them into the back of the transit (Oh yes, too late had we spotted ventilation from the van into the cab: Heath Robinson appeared with a copy of the Leeds Weekly News and some gaffer tape). Katey Slater appeared mid-operation to give much needed moral support ("You're not putting them in there are you?").

Fate intervenes: at this precise moment, LCC send two operatives to flush a colony out of a neighbour's chimney (no no, not a swarm of mine or Katey's - honest Guv). Is this an omen?

We embark. My good friend Peter is riding shotgun on the understanding that he does not have to have anything to do with bees. He is solicitous of my mental health and tells endless funny stories to take my mind off the fact that fear is making me drive like the most cautious of pensioners (5 hats). Aberystwyth is a very long way at 35mph.

We reach Manchester Services. On advice, I have brought some sugar water spray. "Peter, just keep an eye out while I check them, will you?". We have parked remotely from civilisation and I am pleased to open the van and not be overwhelmed by bees. However, on top of hive #1 is a solitary bee: she looks at me and says "Shall I go and get the others?"

Head down, drive to Oswestry. Call over shoulder "We're in Wales, girls - nearly there now" (but they know I am lying). Pull over at the Thrill and Grill truck stop (they won't mind) to repeat the spray protocol. There are now two bees looking at me from the top of the mesh: what would you do? Cup of tea, doorstep ham sandwich, back in the van.

We actually pulled up in Rhoshendre 5 hours after starting. The Königin of the Aber BKA had most kindly provided two stands, and the Frau enthusiastically helped me unload - "Should I put my suit on?" she asks. "I'm going to", I reply.

It was deplorably easy, actually. Took away the entrance block and then was the air full of bees. "Eyup Gladys - where's he brought us?". Or "Eyup Blodwyn - ble mae'n dod â ni?", as the Welsh have it.

So that's it: beekeeping novice to seasoned international traveller in under two years. Big thanks to the LBKA for getting me started, being endlessly helpful, and always having a rich variety of answers to my questions, many of which worked.

They're getting on great. "Gwenyn yn hapus", as I said to the Frau.

Bridge

We went on a nice walk to Bishopthorpe, that afforded two really nice under-road bridge views.

There was a welcoming notice as well

Canal

Peter said "There's an awful lot of Manchester industrial nastiness I have yet to see." Well, a little less now.

Five train journeys, no ticket inspection on four of them: good augury. By foot, Manchester Picadilly to Stalybridge up the Ashton and Huddersfield.

Some highlights:

1. Byelaw 41. We never encountered 1-40.
   
2. Leisure facility - just a sample, there was more. They had drained the pound, which was a headache for the pensioner couple attempting to get a boat in ...
   
3. Bicycle rack, working well.
   
4. Notice of the day: Pedestrians diverted from A to B, cyclists diverted from A to C.
   
5. Communist: Droylsden library is an art deco gem.
   
6. Roger Hannah (yada yada).
   
7. Chimney up; chimney down. Many chimneys. Many fewer than once.
   
8. Be 28.
   

Foiled on my [second] attempt to visit Ashton Museum ... closed on Mondays. Chip shops used to close on Mondays.

More footage available, including pictures of heritage.

Void

On Monday March 7th 2011 at 9.15am, in Birminham New Street station, we found 23 rail tickets stamped void.

	Here they are
	These are the same tickets, arranged differently

Motorcade

So we go on a trip, driven by the inestimable Charles (Charles is a driver by profession, but in a dream God showed him an orphan school, which he is now saving hard to build. We didn't quite know what to say - fits with current Tory policy I suppose). The trip involved a long and interesting drive to the Kakum National Park (rain forest, canopy walk), and then to Cape Coast castle old slaving centre.

The Park is fun, & the canopy walk suitably wobbly ("It is tested every morning. It can carry two elephants" - how do they know?). We fall alongside a party of Germans and Ghanaian government people who have been "doing trade" - good thing, as I missed my German class and I could amuse them with simple sentences about things being feucht. One of the bigger Ghanaians sports a shiny belt buckle emblazoned with the word "Versachi" - is that how you spell it?

The journey from the park to the Coast is hectic ... rutted road, busy, busy. Charles pushes on, until a police siren is heard behind us. A motorbike flashes by, followed by two cars flashing their hazard lights, and a third car full of Big Men with Guns (pedantically, Very Big Men with Very Guns). "Good", says Charles. He ignites his own hazard lights and falls in behind the motorcade which is travelling fast and ignoring all traffic regulations, lights, etc etc. Maggie and I are not sure about this.

After a scary couple of miles, the car into which the Men with Guns are squeezed drops back. Windows are wound down & there is aggresive shouting. Charles declares his harmlessness and friendship with the men, pointing out that his passengers are best mates with the illustrious occupants of the motorcade ... yes, the Germans. It appears we have netted an Ambassador. The men look hard at me in the front seat, and detect that I am distinguished. Smiles all round, & please join the procession. So we travel the rest of the way to the castle at top speed as honorary German diplomats.

When we exit the car at the castle, big hugs and hellos among the Ghanaians. The Germans are very polite to their new recruits.

The Cape Coast Castle was truly shocking, all the more so as we got the full-on tour laid out for the German dignitaries. This place and its cousins accounted for more death and misery than Auschwitz etc., by our reckoning.

More pictures