Bus w*****s

Good morning from a bus travelling somewhere in Turkey. (Vanessa’s in charge of all the logistics, I’m just here to pull the cases).

Actually, not for the first time on this trip, Vanessa just saved the day. We were told our KamilKoc (no tittering at the back) service was leaving from stand 18, but it was leaving from somewhere else - which Mrs W spotted with about a minute to go. TFFT.

Mustafa is our genial onboard steward and in the first half hour has served up water, fizzy drinks, biscuits and salty snacks. Thankfully there are five stops along the way, one for every hour, so our bladders shouldn’t be under too much stress.

Yesterday, Vanessa and Jamie went to that place that’s a bit like Pompeii but I’m not sure how it’s spelt and I’m running out of data so you can look it up yourself. Meanwhile, accompanied by me, Charlotte, tried to do some shopping but wasn’t “feeling it” so we gave up after a short while.

Our next task was to buy stuff for tea in preparation for the other two’s arrival back in Izmir. Unfortunately and despite Vanessa giving me clear instructions on where the supermarket was, we got lost and had to abandon the mission after 40 sweltering minutes. With Charlotte safely deposited back at the apartment, I had no option but to have another go aided by Google Maps - and made it there in five minutes flat. Perhaps I should’ve tried that the first time. On the return journey, I paid a second and final visit to my new friend in the local alcohol dispensary who didn’t let me down.

I’ll bet he could tell a few tales. Then it was time for some fading Izmir rays….

…and an underwhelming meal on the wanderers’ return (principally because I managed to buy salsa which I discovered doesn’t work quite as well with pasta as pasta sauce does).

So, that’s Izmir done. We reach our next destination at an estimated 1515 Turkish time which could mean anything.

Moving day

Good evening from Izmir, the second stop on our little Turkish tour. It's the country's third largest city (according to Jamie) and is a mere 50 minute flight from Istanbul. (I know this because we flew here from there yesterday and it took 50 minutes).

Again, we were transported to our sccommodation in what I can only describe as a pimp mobile - with even more psychedelic lighting than the one that scooped us up from Istanbul airport.

This did freak out the junior members of our party just a little bit (can you tell?!) but all ended well. First up upon arrival was an Izmir reccy..

...an initial visit to the communal roof terrace where we're staying...

...followed by a return visit to see the sun head off to its next gig.

But then things went a teeny bit wrong. After eating out for three nights in Istanbul and having climbed the (what seemed liked) 40,000 uphill steps to get back to our abode from Izmir city centre, we thought we'd flop with a takeaway ordered online and delivered to our tiny metal door.

Sadly techy issues blocked that path so we had no option but to trek down and back for a needs must kebab.

So that was yesterday. Today presented a series of alternative happenings (and non-happenings) which continue to unfold. Onboard WiFi permitting, I hope to report back on those during our five-hour bus journey to destination number three tomorrow. Happy Friday!

What a Nob

It’s time to leave Istanbul as we head to the second stop on our Turkish adventure. Istanbul is quite the place: mad drivers, pushy waiters and fascinating historical exhibits. Jamie went to a mere two huge museums yesterday, one of which claimed to be in possession of Moses’s cane, strands of the Prophet Muhammad’s beard and Ken Dodd’s tickling stick. (I may have made one of those up. No clues on which one).

But after a combined total of more than four hours learning about really old stuff, our boy declared himself intellectually fulfilled - until our next destination where arguably the ante goes up a notch further. For Vanessa, Charlotte and me, the plan was to walk across a bridge from European Turkey…

…into Asian Turkey…

…before declaring ourselves inter-continental travellers.

Unfortunately, we took the wrong bridge and the whole “crusade” was a total waste of everyone’s time. Last night, for our final meal in Turkey’s largest city, we weren’t sure what to do. But after resisting the “encouragement” of at least a dozen eager restauranteurs to enter their establishment for decent food but cheap wine at stupidly expensive prices, we went to Nob, a dry but fairly priced eatery which, by common White family consent, served up our best meal thus far.

Plus it was called Nob which obviously gave licence for us to behave in a silly (yet sadly sober) manner the whole way through. (Admittedly, we did grab a bottle of Turkish plonk on the way home to toast the experience). We’re not sure what lies ahead today but we’re heading to the airport now and will soon find out.

This caps it

It can be a bit of a challenge finding an offy in Istanbul where religion generally takes greater precedence than getting tipsy. However, should you choose the latter, at least you can be comfortable in the knowledge that the top of the beer can is clean because of one of these.

Clever isn't it? And not sonething I've seen before.

Feel free to join me in raising your can to hygienic ingenuity.

History boy

It’s our second and final full day in Istanbul today before tomorrow we climb on a plane for a new Turkish adventure. This trip is a bit of a different expedition to the usual, for us at least. Jamie hasn’t come with Vanessa, Charlotte and me on our summer hols over the past two years with Scouting adventures taking precedence. However, with his A Levels next year and a jaunt with friends in the offing next June/July, we invited him to lead us where he wanted to go - and Turkey was the choice. But he hasn’t had it all his own way. Charlotte has also been heavily involved with choices of accommodation in quite a complicated schedule. She (and Vanessa) have lots of shopping planned - with some already done.

Meanwhile, history obsessive Jamie visited two mosques yesterday...

...including the famous Blue Mosque after which he spent more than an hour exchanging understandings on Islam with local Muslim scholars.

Vanessa and Charlotte were there too…

….but left a little early to fire up the refreshments.

Last night, the food was, again, more than good…

…with Charlotte even meeting a new furry friend.

Today promises to be a very different day with a visit to another continent possibly on the agenda to round it off.

Guiseley to Istanbul (extended route)

Good morning from Istanbul where the local time is early. Our arrival yesterday morning came off the back of my own little trip to Lancashire to see my beloved Coleraine Football Club play Fleetwood Town.

Much fun was had but only three goals were scored - and only one by us, so we lost. And then it was a night in Blackpool...

...an afternoon in Manchester...

and on to the airport for an early flight.

The transfer was by a people carrier with blacked windows and curtains (sadly no champagne).

And then we arrived at The Green Mansion, our home until Thursday.

I don’t make this stuff up. The first night supper was spot on and quiet. However, on a little reccy afterwards, we discovered an area which seems much more lively. That’s where we expect to end up this evening.

This morning’s breakfast was more than good (that’s The Green Mansion you can see in the background).

The only downside thus far was the jolt from our slumber at 4.50am with the first Call to Prayer of the day. But we’re guests in this fine country so you’ll hear no complaints from us. Today we’re thinking big mosques and even bigger bazaars. I’ll let you know how that all goes.

School’s out

Good morning from Bradford Interchange station where I’m sat aboard a train.

For those who haven’t read this awful blog before,  please turn back, there is nothing to see here. For those who choose to read on, I would encourage you to think about your lives and what else you could be doing with whatever time you have left

I haven’t written anything for ages because the kids are much bigger now and don’t want to be shamed in public any more. Plus there’s Vanessa.

However, holiday time is finally upon us so I thought I would dust off my typing finger and perhaps write a few lines as we go along as a means of retaining some hazy memories for future exaggeration. 

Our actual holiday doesn’t start properly until Monday - more of that on Monday, at a guess - but first a little personal pilgrimage over the Pennines to that Lancashire to see some football.

Anyone who knows me understands my divine love for Coleraine FC, my hometown club. It’s been around for 98 years and we’ve won the Irish League just once in that long and not especially illustrious history. But we’ve been taken over twice in the past couple of years, are now a full-time professional club and might even have a chance of winning something again before we turn 100. (I really shouldn’t have said that out loud - sorry fellow Bannsiders).

In a sign of how things are looking up for us long suffering fans, we have an away friendly game today against League Two team Fleetwood Town. And, having never seen the team play outside Northern Ireland before, there was no way I was missing that.

So you find me on this train bound for Blackpool where I will meet my good friend Stephen, we’ll dump our bags in our cheap hotel and then - perhaps via a hostelry or two - will clamber on to a tram to Fleetwood. And because it’s a friendly, it doesn’t even matter if we get stuffed. Sport as it should be.

More later (or later still).

It's never too late

I passed my driving test today.  (Yes, the many good friends and family members who have rightly ribbed me for many years, you read that right).

My old buddy and former rugby teammate Richard Beggs and I took lessons together at school in 1989 when I was a sprightly 17 (and Richard was, well, 17 - let's leave it at that).  It was a two-hour lesson - an hour each in the driving seat with the other in the back making faces in the mirror.  

However, over the course of time, my driving instructor and I failed to see eye to eye and I did that brainless teenage "I'll show him" thing - by stopping lessons.  What a hero (aka idiot).

And then the years moved on - I went to study in Newcastle, back to Belfast for a few years, moved to London - and driving wasn't top of my priority list.

Vanessa and I eloped to Yorkshire in 2003 and getting my licence should have become an instant priority.  I did take some lessons but wasn't a big fan of my new instructor or the one after that so I "parked" the whole idea once more (partly because I wasn't very good at parking).

Another three years went past until I had another go, by this time when I was working in Harrogate and found an absolute gent of an instructor.  But the problem was time.  I had accepted a job in Bradford and was only left with a few weeks to try to get through my test before the new role took over.

The first two tests were pretty much disastrous. I came close third time around but still no cigar.  Game over.

Or so I thought.

In March of this year, my great pal Edmund Conybeare generously decided to mark my 52nd birthday by getting me a surprise driving lesson with the best driving instructor on the planet (and I should know, having seemingly met most of them).

Fiona Poole had successfully guided Ed's eldest daughter Helena through her test first time and was in the process of doing the same with her sister Eva (mission since accomplished).

So, on 20 April,  I climbed into Fiona's car for my first lesson.  And five months to the day - yes, today - I passed my test.  Yes, it was fourth time, but not really because Fiona was a long time away from being a driving instructor when I crashed and burned three times 18 years ago. 

It's not an exaggeration to say that driving has dominated my life over the past few months but especially over the past three weeks.  Fiona managed to fit me in for lessons every day this week  - three of them for two hours.  And without that level of intensity and her clear understanding of those aspects of driving at which I was particularly shite, I would not have stood a chance today.

It will take me a little while for the new reality to sink in - 1989 is a long time ago - but I'm excited about the new possibilities a driving licence will offer.  A driving licence.  An actual driving licence.  I've got a driving licence.

I will shortly be raising a glass to that happy fact (but will leave the car at home for one more night). 

Thank you Fiona, you're an absolute star. 

Springtime in Paris

Good morning from French France where the Whites are on a short but riveting mission.

We arrived in Paris at teatime yesterday, just in time to celebrate what was left of my birthday after a long day travelling.  (There is a 2 and a 5 in my new age, but sadly not in the order I would prefer).

We had a terrific meal last night and drink was taken. Please don’t judge.

However, we’ll not see much of the kids over the next two days.

And here’s the thing. The main reason for our trip is that Jamie and Charlotte will spend today and tomorrow in first rehearsals with the Olympic Youth Band. 

With Jamie on guitar and Charlotte on clarinet, they have been chosen as two of the UK’s half dozen representatives in the global musical ensemble who will play just one song in a single performance for one night only.

At the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympic Games.

I KNOW!!!

The date is Friday 26 July with a television audience of billions guaranteed.

They don’t yet know what the song is and, when they do, I suspect they won’t be allowed to tell anyone. Let’s see.

They’ve simply been told to present themselves at the reception of the Stade de France at 10am, where the opening and closing ceremonies - plus the athletics - will take place. There they will meet the rest of the band and find out what the schedule is for the next two days. They return to Paris on the morning of Saturday 20 July for several days of intense practice before two full dress rehearsals on the Wednesday and Thursday with the performance itself obviously on the Friday.

Jamie will have finished his GCSEs about a month before, but Charlotte will need two days off school which she’s obviously devastated about (not).

So, a memorable summer to look forward to. In the meantime, my birthday week has technically only just begun so I’m off to tear the arse out of it.

Magnifique!!!

Prime time

And they're back.

Yes, the Prime Penguins returned to Yorkshire from South Korea in the early hours of yesterday morning and posed for one final group pic before going their separate ways. 

It wasn't the World Scout Jamboree they or anyone else expected.  You may have heard. 

Poor preparation of the event site coupled with a shortage of provisions, record high temperatures and a looming typhoon led to its evacuation after only a few days.

But things were not anywhere near as disatrous for the overall experience as many news outlets would have you believe, at least not for Unit 37 of the UK Contingent. 

After returning to Seoul, they saw many sights from up high...

..and down low.

They ate together. 

They sang together.

And they even had the chance to dress up. 

I'll leave the storytelling to Jamie, who will be more than happy to talk about his experiences - just as soon as he remembers what continent he's in.

But for now, sincere thanks from him and us to everyone who supported his adventure.  We're forever grateful. 

Heart and Seoul

Good afternoon from Guiseley where the local time is 1319.  The local time in Seoul is 2119.

Meanwhile, the time in Frankfurt is 1419.  I tell you this because Jamie and his fellow members of World Scout Jamboree Unit 37 are currently in Frankfurt Airport before flying to South Korea in less than a couple of hours from now.

Vanessa and I were up shortly after 2am to cart Jamie to Castleford where he boarded the coach to Manchester Airport.

He'll be gone for just under three weeks. The Prime Penguins (as his unit are known) are due to land in Seoul mid-morning tomorrow. 

Then it's two nights in the capital before heading into camp to join more than 50,000 scouts and leaders from 158 countries for the 25th World Scout Jamboree.

They'll be there for 12 days before the Prime Penguins have another three nights in South Korea -  including a visit to the infamous DMZ separating South from North - before arriving back in Manchester on Friday 18 August.

Needless to say, it will be a trip of a lifetime.  

On behalf of Jamie, I want to say a massive and heartfelt thank you to everyone who enabled him to go.

It begins with the kind people who attended Charlotte's Christmas cake sale in December 2021 to kick off his fundraising efforts just a few weeks after he was chosen to attend.

To those who took part in or donated to Jamie's 12-hour Spinathon in July 2022 (or bought one of Charlotte's second batch of cakes). 

To those who attended his pub quiz or played in the band on that very special night in January 2023. 

And, of course, to all those generous souls who contributed to his fund - many without ever having met him.

I also want to give an extra special mention to James Haigh and Kathrin Dunning, the inspirational leaders of 15th Airedale Scouts, who kept the Group active and creative throughout lockdown and beyond.  Without them, Jamie would now be sitting on the sofa beside me.     

He's humbled and eternally grateful to you all.    

THANK YOU!!!