LUCCA AND PISA

5th Sept 2015

Naff....but it had to be done

I met Adrian in the bar at our hotel before the concert the night before and mentioned that I would like to go up the Leaning Tower at Pisa. He said he had been there several times with tours but had never been up it. If I was getting a ticket he would like one also. Apparently you have to book 'on-line' to do this, preferably with the official website (opapisa.it). Due to the vagaries of the website and erratic internet connection, it took ages to fix, but I managed somehow. So, at 18 Euros a throw, he and I were ticketed for the following day.

After breakfast and the the daily "buongiorno" ceremony and briefing we set off by train, firstly to Lucca about 50 miles west. We were down to 24 now as someone had twisted their ankle the day before and was confined to barracks.

The ancient bit of Lucca was occupied (as were several Etruscan towns) by the Romans and fortified by a very large wide, well restored, wall, 2 miles in circumference, with 10 bastions at regular intervals (as per left). It is now a popular tourist trap. The wall is wide enough on top for a road and footpath and has various market stalls along it's length. 

One can hire a bicycle (3 Euros per hour) which I did, and a jolly good bike it was too. Six gears and in good nick.

I spent a happy few hours pedalling around the wall and diving down into the town at various points, normally at the bastions. It was indeed busy with tourists but a charming little 'town' nevertheless designed on a grid system of narrow streets, although even equipped with a street map it was easy to get lost. Or at least I did.

Several 'entertainers' were in evidence in the many piazzas such as this lady (right) who played her violin remarkably well. So well I stayed to listen for quite a time. Perhaps she should audition for the St. Petersburg Northern Sinfonietta...maybe she was in it already and doing a bit of freelancing.

The main piazza (left), with many cafés and bars, was called Piazza Anfiteatro and was indeed the old Roman amphitheatre. That's my bike in the foreground...with Waitrose shopping bag in the basket. A good pit stop for a refreshing glass of beer.

Several churches in evidence, all having the mandatory campanile/bell tower. 

Apparently, when medieval wealth came to Lucca, there was prestige in owning the tallest house in town. This resulted in fierce competition to see who could outdo the rest. The town council then put a stop to it and limited the height of buildings. One crafty owner then got one up on his neighbours by planting oak trees on the top and claiming it the highest. It still stands, with the trees, but I didn't find it.

There were, perhaps unsurprisingly, many prestigious and expensive 'designer' shops amongst the otherwise ancient buildings. I noticed that those infamous old Romans Signores Armani and Prada had outlets here.

The town was the home of the composer Giacomo Puccini of Madame Butterfy, Tosca, La Boheme etc. fame.

His house, in Piazza Cittadella, is now a museum. It is the red one to the right of his statue (left). I paid it a visit. Lots of old documents and artefacts on display and presumably of great interest to an opera buff.

Right: One of his original musical scribblings of....can't remember.

Left: Puccini's study...with magnificent gramophone.

Anyway, it was a pleasant and relaxing way to spend the morning before boarding another train.....

.......and on 40 miles south-west to Pisa and it's famous Leaning (used to be 5.5º now 4º) Bell Tower.

Pisa is a university town of no particular interest (to tourists) other than the Piazza dei Miracoli, or Duomo, which contains a baptistry, walled cemetery, cathedral and it's aforementioned wonky erection (right).

We had a lady guide here, Sara, who gave us the low-down on the place. She was most pleasant and informative but admitted that when off-duty she didn't much like tourists. In brief, Pisa was another Roman town which was, initially, on the coast at the mouth of the river Arno, hence it's importance as a trading centre and staging post from sea to river traffic down to Florence. Due to the silting up of the river over the centuries the town is now 6 miles from the coast.

The cemetery, baptistry and grand cathedral (from left to right in pic) were built in the 12th century and surrounded by a rather hastily thrown up fortified wall. Construction of the bell tower was started in 1173 on soggy ground, but not completed until 1372 (199 years later). They must have realised the problems with the terrain and storeys were added cautiously. "Ay Luigi, you theenka we reeska one more?". As you are no doubt aware the whole edifice was slightly straightened and stabilised in the 1990s.

While the main group of our dwindling party were being given a gentle escorted tour of the cathedral (with it's famous echos apparently), self and Adrian climbed the tower.....amongst lots of others of course.

Right: Looking up the inside of the tower. The spiral staircase was between the inner and outer walls. 264 steps and it felt a bit disconcerting leaning one way and then t'other on the way up.

Left: Adrian's legs protruding from one of the bells. I think he was examining it's donger.

Right: The rest of the bells....which are definitely not for ringing. Any such vibrations could be catastrophic. 

Left: The view from the top over the cathedral and baptistry. There is a museum to the left which we didn't visit.

Back to Montecatini for a 'group dinner'. Other tour groups were also present; some of which must have paid more money than us because they were served before us and got gallons of free wine. Talking of wine, we were in the Chianti region. A drinkable bottle of the stuff cost 3 Euros in the local supermarket, but sold for 18 Euros in the hotel. There were several birthdays raucously celebrated involving cakes, firework candles and singing. It was all very jolly.

Off to Venice tomorrow...........

AROUND MONTECATINI

4th Sept 2015

Montecatini...on the right

We had a 'free day' today to wander around Montecatini. A perfectly charming place with many 'termes' (spas) and plenty of expensive shops and restaurants. The weather has remained sunny and warm so far. On looking down on the town I was struck by how built up the area is which presumably  runs east along the Arno valley towards Florence.

Not so much of interest to visit here, but there is a funicular railway which goes up to Montecatini Alto on the top of the overlooking hill to the north. So I went up. 

Left: The opposing funicular.

There were several Russians on my funicular carriage. I believe Tuscany has become a popular holiday  destination for them. I noticed that menus etc. are normally translated into English and Russian which confirms the point.

Montecatini Alto is one of those 'quaint' Tuscan villages which does quite good business with tourists. Quite small and not many shops.

It has two main features; a largish central piazza featuring no less than eight restaurants and an old fortified tower at the summit from which Romans/locals fended off invading Goths and others.

Right: The central Piazza, Montecatini Alto.

After a decent lunch, fortunately with no "mind if we join yous", I wandered the short distance up to the fort. It isn't a particularly inspiring edifice but just outside it is an extraordinary 'monument'. I thought at first I was looking at a small scrapyard but this, I learnt thanks to a plaque on the railings, was a monument to St Barbara of whom, I must confess, I had never previously heard. 

Left: The monument to St Barbara.

It consists of, amongst other detritus, a rusty old artillery piece, some barbed wire, a fire extinguisher, a couple of artillery shells, an old pumping mechanism, a stand-pipe, an anchor and, perched on the right-hand side of the back wall, a small statue of St Barbara herself.

Apparently she is the Patron Saint of all things that go 'bang', bell ringers and anything else not covered by other patron saints.

Right: An explanation. (click on to enlarge).

Left: A view up to Montecatini Alto.

Not much else to do after that except wait until 8.45pm when we had been booked in to a concert given by the St. Petersburg Northern Sinfonietta. This was held in the magnificent palatial grounds of the Terme Tettucio in the town gardens. Quite an impressive location. No camera so no pics.

This featured an orchestra accompanied by a very lively soprano, tenor, baritone and basso profundo, all Russian. The first half was a selection from Tchaikovsky's 'Evegny Onegin' of which, I am afraid to say, I hadn't heard and which was a bit 'heavy'. The second half was a selection from Verdi's 'La Traviata' which was much more jolly. They were very good indeed. 

There was a long interval. Those with the more expensive tickets were ushered into an enclosure to enjoy freeby wine (prosecco) and nibbles. Those, like us, in the cheap seats, were not. That, as you can imagine, merely provided a challenge to blag one's way in, which I accomplished without much difficulty.....as had Adrian whom I met already on his umteenth glass of wine. Very generous of them. I even got to have quite a long and interesting chat with the conductor, a charming Italian who had studied in London before going to Canada then St Petersburg. It was a most enjoyable evening even though it went on until well past midnight. Most of the town restaurants, and the hotel bar, were closed when we returned. Probably no bad thing.

Right: The conductor, Fabio Mastrangelo. a charming bloke who spoke fluent English, Russian, Spanish and French as well as Italian. I've just looked him up; he has quite an impressive CV.

I think we are off to Lucca and Pisa tomorrow. Stand-by for more gems of cultural edification.

FLORENCE

3rd Sept 2015

Dave's Bum

Florence, the city of a thousand marble willies. I have never seen so many marble statues invariably  boasting remarkably small male appendages assembled and on show in one city. But more about that later.

Group on parade this morning outside the hotel in Montecatini for our briefing by the fragrant, and I  have to admit efficient, Adrian who was today exotically costumed for the heat in a figure hugging paisley patterned blousette and frighteningly tight denim shorts. The daily rigmarole began with his exuberant 'buongiorno' amid much flapping of hands and which we were commanded was the correct procedure here. This was dutifully and enthusiastically responded to in like style by (almost) all the assembled company. How amusing. Anyway, then it was off by train for the one hour train trip to Florence for a guided tour.

I feel obliged to note at this stage that several of our expeditionary force are afflicted by AIDS. These are predominantly of the hearing and walking variety and some of the worst cases find it difficult to keep up or hear most of any issued instructions. It adds to the excitement and a degree of fun searching for stragglers.

Met at the station by our Florentine guide, Mario. A likeable chap and obviously very knowledgeable and enthusiastic about all in Florence. He has written published books, it transpired. The best seller being about the great floods here sometime in the 60's which caused much damage. Sadly it was not translated into English.

Left: Mario (on the right in jacket) equipped with microphone and speaker starting his conducted tour. He kept up an impressive rate of informational chatter; hardly drew breath in fact. As such I only remember scant details and even they may be somewhat flawed. Any info I might provide are hardly a replacement for the Blue Guide or Lonely Planet publications.








We started at a large cathedral, the Basilica di St Maria Novella (right), just south of the railway station. I subsequently discovered that most of the churches/cathedrals in Italy are all of the St Maria designation, unless otherwise specified. This one is famous for being built by the Medici clan who were responsible for much of Florence's wealth (and their own) for several hundred years. I believe a Strozzi family also played a part somehow. The Medicis were a long line of nepotistic rulers who made their fortunes from banking and probably a bit of the old protection racketeering. Something also mentioned about Popes staying here...and they were also Medicis. Did I understand that they  introduced various pharmacies, hence the word 'medicine'? Don't quote me on that.



On down various narrow streets such as this (left), Via della Belle Donne. Apparently noted for 'lovely ladies' who frequented it at some time in the past. I didn't notice any.

Even at this point we (Adrian) had to send back a search party for some already lost en-route. Only gone about 500 yds.

I think this is the interior of the 'Palazzo Strozzi' (right), the challengers to the Medici boys. It has a large library attached in which I asked if they had a copy of that ghastly book 'Fifty Shades of Gray' (and yes, I spent tedious hours/weeks reading it). They didn't.

Did I mention that on tours such as this (as I have now discovered) there are always 'singlies' who yearn for company? I hasten to add that I am indeed a 'singly' who explicitly does not. The yearning singly will grasp any opportunity, without any malicious intention I hasten to add, to follow you around in the hope that you will join them to keep them company. Others on the tour may do likewise. They seem to think we are on some kind of 'team bonding' exercise. It is an ongoing hazard that just when you think you have escaped to go on a much desired solo wander, sitting down at a café to relax reading a hard sought-after English newspaper, you are tapped on the shoulder by one of them to ask "mind if I join you?" Effing irritating. Not sure how to deal with this without resorting to "Yes, now bugger off".

Passing a house which was used by the author George Eliot with a plaque over the door to tell us so, we entered the Piazza del Republica  (left) which was the first piazza to be built when Florence was founded in 59 BC by, if the big placard in the far right-hand corner is anything to go by,  Georgio Armani.

Florence was the capital city of Italy between 1865 - 1871 I think I heard.

Then to the Straw Market (right) which sells lots of straw hats. There is a big bronze statue of a wild boar on one side which, like a lot of bronze statues, brings you luck if you touch it's nose. It has a very shiny nose as a result.

Right: The pig with the shiny nose

Next into Piazza della Signaria which houses the Pallazzo Vecchio (left); the official residence of the Medicis before they moved to the even grander Palazzo Pitti on the other side of the river. This is where most major ceremonial events are held. Around this and under the portico to the right  are several impressive statues (with small willies) by famous sculptors with names like Michelangelo, Ferrini, Lamborghini, Ducati, Zabaglione, Porcini, Campari, Gnocchi, Lambretta, Martini, Cornetto, Salami, Cinzano and many others whose names I failed to register.

Can't remember what this one was of (right). Probably by Michelangelo entitled 'getting home after a good night out'. I am puzzled as to why all Italians of this era had their statues done 'au naturel'. Did they strip off their togas at the sight of a chisel? The Italian fashion scene was obviously a long way off.

This one (left) is of Rolfo Harrisi by Linguini...or someone.

This one (right) is a copy of the original David. It stands outside the front door of the Palazzo where the original was positioned before being moved into to the Accademia museum. It's warmer in there.

Left. Perseus and Medina by Risotto. I think there a lots of statues around the world featuring this couple. Isis must have used it as their inspiration.

Right. 'The Rape of the Sabine Women' by Bolognese. Well, frankly, if everyone was gadding about naked in this country I'm not surprised that some of the local yobberati got a bit carried away after a heavy night out in the pub.

The north side of the Palazzo (left). The room behind the three prominent bay windows was, I think we were informed, where Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Dante and Machiavelli worked. Presumably not all at the same time. Or maybe they did...and bounced ideas, chisels, pens and brushes off one another.

On we marched, or in some cases shuffled, north up to the Piazza Duomo and the Cattedrale di St Maria (who else) del Flore; Maria of the Flowers, after whom the city was named (right). We were on our own from here. Our guide Mario had run out of puff by now and had filled us with so much information that I have forgotten nearly all of it. It has a tall bell tower (campanile) up which you can climb and an even higher dome/cupola up which I did. 483 steps. I counted. There was a long queue to get in. Long queues, as I came to discover, are a feature of most popular Italian venues. And cost 10 Euros.

Interestingly, there were several signs on the way up the narrow spiral staircase to the top of the cupola which commanded us not to write on the walls. They were erected too late, or maybe just to spite the order visitors had left little space to write much more. The walls were already almost completely covered with graffiti.

I suppose graffiti, being an Italian word, was invented in Italy. The local graffitistos are a prolific bunch. Most unprotected public vertical surfaces are covered in the stuff....even more so than in UK...and not much of it is very artistic. 

Right: Graffiti on the staircase walls.

Once on top there were pretty good views over Florence. This one (left) looks north-west over the bell tower and down to the Cathedral (Duomo) Piazza. 

After a very good lunch at one of the splendid outdoor cafés, and they do cafés rather well here, and thankfully without a "mind if we join you?", I moved on to visit the Accademia Gallery which houses the original Michelangelo statue of David. The entrance to this is on a rather drab street and when I arrived there was, inevitably, a long queue to buy tickets (12.50 Euros). I queued for about 40 mins in sweltering sunshine before getting in. Once inside it wasn't too crowded (I suppose that is why we queued) and the first gallery was filled predominantly with 'unfinished' statues by Michelangelo (as right). Given a big lump of marble and a hammer and chisel I'm sure I could have done just as well. Why didn't he finish them?...got bored I expect, or maybe chopped something off accidentally, with an Italian cry of "bugger!", and you can't just stick it back on..

Right: The original 'Dave' which Signore Michelangelo actually got around to finishing without a chiselling mishap.

Many other scantilly clad chisellings abounded and there was a large storeroom at the back with shelf upon shelf of marble busts and other statuary not on display. Could have been mass produced for all I know.

Then there was this thing....(left). I didn't recognise the 'artist' and was left a bit baffled as to what it is meant to represent. 'Jake the Peg's Extra Leg' perhaps. Perhaps Michelangelo or one of his colleagues had a wry sense of humour. Suggestions welcome.

Other than that, there was a rather dull section displaying old musical instruments and, of course, the gallery shop. I didn't stay very long as my time was limited and there were a few other things to see.

Right: Outside in the Piazza were several horses and carts to transport, at great expense no doubt, leg weary tourists. This nag is possibly one of Richard Hannon's cast-off racehorses.

Onwards, onwards to the Uffizi Gallery and another queue for about 30 mins (12.50 Euros). This is a vast gallery with long corridors on three floors; an annex to the Palazza Vecchio. Many of the rooms on the first floor were filled with ornate 'religious' pictures (as per left). I found them rather dull and repetitive. So quickly moved up to floor two...........

....which was devoted to hundreds, if not thousands, of nude statues and busts. The labelling of these was difficult to follow and I lost interest relatively quickly. As you gather, I am not a great expert, even less a fanatical admirer, of these artefacts. I think Signore Bellini featured here amongst many others.  One of the more impressive displays in a glassed off hexagonal room (right) is this collection of statues and paintings featuring 'The Tribune' which I believe is a famous piece of work.

Left: Quite an inspiring large sculpture of a reclining woman. Unusual for the fact that it was about the only one with any clothes on.

Right: Sleeping Hermaphrodite. I since gathered that there are many ancient copies of this. The acclaimed original being in the Louvre, Paris.

Left: A more entertaining statue of a youth picking his toenails.

Up to floor three and now into more interesting territory with (original) paintings by artists that I had actually heard of; Velázquez, Van Dyke, Breughel and many others including this well known daubing of 'The Birth of Venus' by Sandro Botticelli (right), commissioned by the Medicis in the mid 1480s.

One small room contained only this, a sort of bed (left). Either this was an ancient precursor to that ghastly 'installation' by Tracey Emin or, more likely, a place for the security guard to have a kip.

Right: A decent view, from an upstairs window in the Uffizi, of the Ponte Vecchio over the River Arno. This bridge was originally where medieval butchers operated and chucked offal and waste into the river. The Medicis, living in the Palazzo nearby, got fed up with the smell and kicked them off. It then became a place where gold and jewellery was sold, as it is now...rows of such shops lining the sides of the bridge.

It is also the only city bridge over the Arno not blown up by the Germans before the liberation of the city by the Brits in 1944.

Left: A view over the Ponte Vecchio showing the lines of, mainly, gold and jewellry shops

Directly on over the bridge is the vast Palazzo Pitti (right), the second official residence of the Medicis. It is now a museum, containing what I never discovered because by the time I got there it was closed.

That was my 'whistle stop' day touristing in Florence and I expect, given more time, I could have seen many other interesting things.

Back on a train (on time and only 3 Euros for an hour-long journey) to the hotel in Montecatini and then a good nosh outside in the town square. I must say, Italian towns are remarkably pleasant in the evenings with lots of people eating, drinking and just perambulating in a most civilised manner. 

More touristing tomorrow......

(PS. Message for Judith, if you read this: for some reason my machine will not allow me to reply to your comment. Don't understand why not. We could have met up!)

MULHOUSE TO MONTECATINI

2nd - 3rd Sept 2015

Mulhouse Town Hall

It would never normally have occurred to me to visit Mulhouse, near the French/Swiss border. After wandering around the place for a couple of hours before out next train was due to leave (at 10.19am) I discovered it to be a most delightful place. Splendid cafes, picturesque cobbly streets and clean and welcoming. Lots of boats on the canal, smart tram network and an elegant railway station.

Left: The railway station at Mulhouse.

Following on from yesterday I learnt that the lady casevaced home had been escorted by her 'partner'. That leaves 25 of us, not including Adrian our flamboyant guide who, this morning, appeared wearing a shiny pink jacket and floral shirt. He has a quiff. Give him his due, amongst all his floppy gesticulations he does give a good briefing on the plans for the day. He knows his stuff and is most popular, especially with the ladies, for insisting everyone shouts a loud 'bonjour' in response to his greeting. You get the picture.

Human beings come in all shapes and sizes but I have never before seen anyone with a figure quite like this (right), spotted on his way to the post office. He was perfectly normally built other than carrying the mother of all beer bellys. Not one of our group, I hasten to add. I wondered how he did up his shoe laces....which is probably why he is wearing flip-flops.

Next onto a commuter train to Basel. So far all these trains have been immaculate, uncrowded, smack on time and fast. Plenty of space and luggage room.

Left: the commuter train interior.

From Basel we hopped onto another fast train to Bern. It was here that we nearly suffered our next casualty. One of our party, a rather mature gent who was using a walking stick, got it stuck in the carriage door just as it was closing. He was inside, his bag outside and his stick in between. There was quite a struggle amid much pushing and shoving and blowing of whistles. Thanks to several helpers he survived this ordeal unscathed. I wonder what will strike whom next. I don't envy any travel guide/manager their job.

Coming into Bern the railway crosses the river Aare. In what I now realise is a common tour tradition, any such event calls for some form of group participation. The indefatigable Adrian trilled out "we are now crossing the river Aare". Everyone was expected to respond, and did (with the possible exception of grumpy old Uncle Matt) with a loud "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh". How amusing.

Another train change at Bern for a quite spectacular high speed run over and at many points through (lots of long tunnels.....impressive engineering) the mountains to Milan. Onto yet another train onwards to Florence (more long tunnels) and finally a 45 minute bus trip to our destination, Montecatini.

Right: Passing a bit of Lake Maggiore between Bern and Milan.

No delays, no further casualties (25 still standing), no incidents and we were sitting down to another rather good dinner in the smart Hotel Francia & Quirinale at 8.45pm. Having said that we sit at 'group' tables which can be a bit of a trial especially if, as I was, sitting next to someone called Bob whose specialist subject is 'World War 2 weapons systems 1939 -45'. Trapped next to him I was regaled for most of the meal by myriad details of the German V bomb system. The other somewhat tedious 'procedure', I discovered, is for everyone to introduce themselves and then challenge you to remember their names at the next meal. They also express undue curiosity as to where you come from and what you do, or did, for a living. I really put my foot in it here. Not wishing to be interrogated further, and no answer was not an option, I told them I was a retired poultry farmer from Essex. I don't know what came over me. I know bugger all about either poultry or Essex. Now having to look up 'chickens' and 'Essex' on the internet to maintain some form of credibility. My 'companions' are obviously experienced 'group' travellers who know the form while I am definitely a novice...and I think I will make every effort to remain so.

Off to explore the delights of Florence tomorrow. 

TUSCANY BY TRAIN

1st - 2nd Sept 2015

Eurostar. I didn't notice any obvious sign of migrants

This will be  a 'first' for me. An organised group tour of the 'Saga' variety which is due to take us by rail from London via France and Switzerland to Tuscany. I must be feeling my age.

The start point was St Pancras where I met our guide, or host, or facilitator or whatever his title; a youngish chap called Adrian. Dressed in a sky blue jacket, garish tie and tight fitting pink trousers he  seemed efficient and affable enough even if a touch 'light of hoof' as the saying goes. He told me that there were 28 of us on this trip...and I hadn't seen any of them thus far. Indeed we wouldn't meet up until arrival by Eurostar at Paris, Gare du Nord.

All on time after a comfortable ride in a rather upmarket carriage with delicious lunch and polite service we arrived at Gare du Nord and duly assembled at the behest of Adrian who wafted a hankerchief to attract our attention. Then by bus to Gare de Lyon for the connecting train to Mulhouse. As perhaps expected, my 26 travelling companions were all 'of a certain age' and perhaps unfairly, because I hadn't even spoken to any of them at this stage, I labelled as 'Sid and Doris' types.

We had a couple of hours to kill at Gare de Lyon where I went for a reviving beer, at vast cost, in the Train Bleu restaurant. A most elegant establishment with an incredibly ornate ceiling and despite only a couple of other customers, unbelievably, but typically French, slow service.

Left: Le Train Bleu restaurant, Gare de Lyon. Somewhat unsimilar to most eateries in London stations.

All aboard the double-decker TGV train, on the upper story, which was again most comfortable, quiet, with few and sensible announcements and incredibly speedy. They displayed the speed which at some points reached 312 kph. A very smooth ride despite that. My goodness, our creaking UK machines are light years behind.

It was a 3 hour journey to Mulhouse and then a quick walk over to the Mercure Hotel and a rather good dinner. This involved sitting at 'group' tables where one got (had) to chat with one's fellow tourists. We were all very polite to one another. I gathered at this point that one of our number had been taken ill en-route and is due to be casevaced home. One down already, 26 to go (not including Adrian).

After a walk around Mulhouse, on via Basel and Milan to Montecatini tomorrow. I am quivering with excitement.

  

THOSE BLASTED ANNOUNCEMENTS......

And another thing.............!!!!! It is often trivial irritants that make me 'eff and blind' rather more   profusely than the major ones. I suppose this is because many people, even those of influence, wax lyrical about the 'Big Issues' of the day and nobody, other than the likes of me, gets much worked up about the little bits of grit in life's vaseline. Regardless of all my 'constructive' outpourings and 'helpful' letters written to nameless functionaries in order to address such trivia, it stokes my boilers up even more either to get no reply or receive some 'standard' vapid explanation which doesn't even try to address my highly pertinent observations. A case in point, in my travelling mode, is the matter of those interminable blasted announcements we are bombarded with (a speciality of the UK I hasten to add) on the rail and underground networks which are all, it was explained in a rather condescending letter of complete claptrap I received from Transport for London, in the interests of our 'comfort and safety'.

Comfort and safety my arse! In the interest of covering their own arses more likely.  Most of these public announcements, often automated, are unnecessary, irrelevant, patronising, frequently incoherent, sometimes misleading, or just plain wrong. They occasionally overlap whereby none are audible and cause, at their maximum volume and output during peak rush hour periods, a cacophony of sound which only serves to increase the stress amongst an already over-stressed horde of manic commuters. In fact the only people who might possibly benefit from some of these announcements are foreigners, unfamiliar with our system, who make up a sizable proportion of travellers in and around London... but then as they probably don't speak much English, if any, they are unlikely to understand them. Whoopee. Having said that, one sometimes wonders if these announcements are indeed made in English such are the strange and unintelligible 'multi-cultural' accents (including Geordie unless you come from there) of the alien sounding persons making them. It all goes to make travelling, especially on the London Underground during the busy periods, an even more hellish experience. I often have great difficulty in stopping myself screaming at the ceiling: "please shut the f##k up!!"

And now for some examples of the most infuriating blather broadcast to the long-suffering captive platform audience:

How about those nannyish warnings when, in summer, the temperature, unsurprisingly, rises to moderately warm (considered in places like Baghdad to be a tadge on the chilly side) they caution you to make sure you have brought enough water to drink and if you feel unwell to "please contact a member of staff".  As if we are incapable of lasting a journey of less than 30 mins without a constant intake of water. I believe you can live for between 3 and 10 days without water, depending on varying factors.......and that we are considered incapable of deciding for ourselves when we are thirsty. Pathetic. I expect during the colder months they will now announce that we must wrap up warm and wear a scarf to save us from hypothermia. As for contacting a member of staff if you keel over (on evidence, usually affecting those who have had too much to drink)......how is that possible? Difficult to find one at the best of times let alone when you are semi-comatose. They broadcast warnings of "not to run and take special care as it has been raining and the platform might be slippery" (is that a surprise?) even when the rain stopped hours ago and the surface is now perfectly dry. Perhaps they should also warn us to breathe in and out regularly  to avoid becoming unconscious.

On longer train journeys, usually about 20 minutes after departure, along with the tedious, scripted and unnecessary 'welcome' aboard by some grandiosely entitled functionary (the conductor to you and me) advising you to read the safety instructions (I've never seen any and couldn't care less) you are informed, for example, that "this is the Newcastle train, calling at Peterborough, Doncaster, Darlington, Durham and arriving at....etc". Well it's a bit late to tell you that if you thought you were going to Plymouth or Exeter isn't it? For those incapable of boarding the correct train, perhaps it would make more sense to announce this vital information before departure! Some time following this, just as those passengers lucky enough to have a seat are (relatively) comfortably settled and want to be left in peace to snooze or read the newspaper we are rudely interrupted by Sharon or Tracey, the 'on-board catering manager,' to tell us that "the buffet car is now open for the sale of hot and cold beverages, sandwiches, snacks, crisps, cakes, wines, beer, soft drinks and other delicious delicacies". I mean, what the hell do we expect them to sell........tractor parts, cruise missiles, wellington boots? Anyway, if you are that desperate for sustenance and when you eventually locate this grotty little counter after staggering up and down miles of lurching narrow ailses, squeezing past, or more likely having to retreat from, oncoming passengers precariously balancing paper buckets of hot drinks, tripping over bags and outstretched legs and reach the end of a long queue being served incredibly slowly by a single rather disinterested attendant who has to keep going off to 'heat things up', and inevitably behind some woman with three small yowling children who can't decide what they want, they have inevitably sold out of whatever grossly over-priced comestible you had come for, and then to hear "the buffet car will now be closed for stock-taking". I suppose it passes the time if you haven't got a seat or a book to read and need a bit of exercise.

Then there is the Karaoke Syndrome. You may be aware of this affliction which is demonstrated by offering someone a microphone into which they experience the irresistible urge to talk, shout or sing, however badly or unnecessarily, without drawing breath. Once they start they cannot stop. This is most irritatingly apparent on the London Underground during the busy rush-hour periods when passengers (sorry customers) are at their most stressed and would really appreciate some peace and quiet, or perhaps just soothing background music. Train comes in, doors open, get on, doors close and go. Simple, you would have thought, but no. The platform staff are given radio-mics, plus instructions no doubt to harass the masses, and therefore enter enthusiastically into a non-stop 'bravura' performance telling us what to do, or not do, repeating themselves incessantly, loudly and often in some totally indecipherable dialect. When you can understand what they are saying amid their screaming bossy babble you realise that all of it is  entirely unnecessary.

Even on relatively uncrowded platforms we are regaled by such favourites as  "stand back from the yellow line" and "the next train is approaching" (well, I should jolly well hope so), "let all passengers off before boarding", "move down the carriage to make room"; commands which mostly seem to be stating the bleedin' obvious and only applicable to English speaking lunatics (OK there are a few) but I suspect even more so than everyone else the lunatics don't pay the blindest bit of attention, and anyway one wonders how the system seems to work perfectly well during periods without all these bossy instructions. There are other ridiculous and even more unnecessary 'dicta' to fill in any possibility of a pause in transmission.  One of the most baffling, to me, is the decree "use all available doors" when boarding. I mean, I tend only to use one door, preferably the one with the least number of people queuing at it. I once took them at their word and tried at best speed to 'use all available doors' and managed to get in and out of five before the train moved off, without me. What are they on about?
Then there is the frantic "stand clear of the closing doors, this train is about to depart, stand clear of the doors" repeated ad nauseam before you hear a clear 'beep-beep-beep' sound to indicate, even to non-English speakers and aforementioned lunatics, that the doors are about to close. What a waste of breath, but the minions with the mikes obviously much enjoy their moment of verbal power despite it serving no good purpose and driving the rest of us mad.

The Underground station PA announcements can be no better, unnecessary and just add to the  general mayhem...often blocking out all the other unnecessary announcements. Take that pre-recorded announcement that states, "There is a good service on all London Underground lines".  This statement deserves critical analysis:

1. "good service". Let me be the judge of that. I regard a 'good' service as one that provides a comfortable seat on a regular, frequent, smooth running, uncrowded train with minimum noisy announcements which is never subject to delays while being served complimentary coffee and buns, if not champagne, by a charming and attractive carriage stewardess. What I think they mean is a 'normal service'.

2. "There is". This is not necessarily the case. What the announcement means is that, at the time it was made (possibly several minutes before transmission) there were no reported faults on the lines. At any second subsequent to transmission there could be any number of reasons why the whole system goes tits up, and it frequently does. I have been caught by this......stranded on a platform with trains indefinitely suspended while the PA drones on "there is a good service etc...".

3. "On all London Underground lines". Why bother to point this out? Are they concerned that if they didn't mention it we might think they were referring to the Azerbaijan tram network?

What they mean to say is "At the time this announcement was recorded, five minutes ago, there was a normal service operating. We cannot guarantee that it is now or at any second in future". In fact this announcement is entirely superfluous. Why not just report line closures and delays when they are  actually in force and let us assume the rest are operating 'normally'. Idiots.

I often wonder, due to overload of information, if there were to be a really important announcement to make, such as "please evacuate the station quickly due to a nuclear device imminently about to explode on platform 2" that anyone would bother to listen, or understand, or care.

I could go on but will save you from any further 'announcements' save to say that I am about to embark on a railway journey to Italy which is an 'organised' tour. With the exception of North Korea I haven't been on one of these before. I will keep you posted from 1st September......assuming we make it through the Channel Tunnel.

Chin chin........