Written by Rod

I had never heard of Cinque Terre (CT) before Leigh McLuskey described it to me. Hamish and I had been having a holiday with Leigh and Karyn in January, when we started talking travel. From that point CT was firmly on our to-do list.

We are staying in La Spezia, which is terrifically handy to CT. Belinda came up with several plans to arrange our family’s day out.

Plan A: We all go together and do a walk. Strike that, since it’s too hard for Hamish and Jess is not keen.

B: We all go in on the train (to Monterosso), Belinda and I walk to the next village (Vernazza), whilst Hamish and Jess potter, then catch a train to meet up in that village. Nope -too much time for Jess and Hamish to fill in.

C: Belinda and I go on our own. Forget it.

D: Don’t go at all. Really? Why did we even come here?

E: Belinda and I go in early, do the walk, then come back for a full family visit.

The alarm goes at 6:30. We have a bit of breakfast, then head for the station, which is a 5 minute walk away. It’s quiet as we easily purchase tickets for the 8:12 to Monterosso. Trenitalia seduces us when our train leaves exactly on time. The train is modern, clean and uncrowded. We congratulate ourselves for timing our run and arriving in the off-season.

The train trip is largely through tunnels (Italians love their tunnels), with occasional sea glimpses.

We arrive at Monterosso and the scene is sublime. Coast, beach, cafes, hills, sun and more ridiculous “roads”. Belinda thinks a trip to the toilet before the walk is a good idea, until she visits the “toilet”. It is a hole in the floor, with a foot-pad on either side. Totally devoid of toilet paper. Pass. (Hamish would love it.)

It is hard to know where to start, but we set off on the walking trail which connects to the next village, conscious that we need to get a train back to La Spezia, sooner or later. It’s cool and we are glad that we are not doing this walk in summer, as most tourists do.

The walk is stunning. The walk is challenging, with what seems like an endless chain of steps, then some very narrow sections with what could be vertical drops, though I am not keen to check. After a short while, there is a busker playing something on a saxophone. Charming. It’s humid and Belinda turns a shade of red resembling the much-cherished local tomatoes. It’s sweaty and there is no breeze. The track is very quiet and we are again pleased with our amazing planning.

It is hard to imagine that anybody could look at these cliffs plunging into the sea and declare “this is the place for a village”. Whoever did so was an inspired visionary/madman. But we are glad they did. It is out of this world. I am also pleased that they did not add one more village, since “Sei Terre” would not have quite the same ring. I mention this to Belinda along the way. She says “You are an idiot”; in the nicest possible way. The locals have not wasted any space and the hillsides along the walk are dotted with vineyards and vegetables. The region is renowned for its wines and one canny oenologist even has a nifty little advertising bay on his plot. If we see their wine, we will buy it.

After about 100 minutes we arrive in Vernazza. It’s another surreal experience in a very quiet village. We grab a coffee and share a “jam cake”, admiring the view and again admiring our timing.

We head to the station to return to La Spezia. The train is 10 minutes late, but that’s okay.

We grab Jess and Hamish and head back to the station. The queue to buy the two extra tickets is long (I knew I should have bought these earlier), and we miss the train (1:03) we aimed to catch, which leaves bang on time. Curse that Italian efficiency. Never mind, the next train is at 1:18.

We return to Monterosso, which is now very crowded. Don’t these people know it’s off season? We have lunch in a delightful restaurant over(looking) the beach. Whilst Belinda is finishing my wine, I take Hamish down to the beach, where he strips down to his speedos. It is a gorgeous day.

The beach is gritty, then pebbly, as we get closer to the shore. I have to carry my little cream puff over the pebbles to get to the shore. He can’t stand in the water, cause it’s cold. It isn’t.

He just gets his feet wet when, of course, he tells me he needs to do a poo. Hamish’s poos come on quickly, with a small window of opportunity for success. I think I let out an audible obscenity as I quickly pick him up and charge back over the pebbles. We hastily walk back through the restaurant to the toilet. I hope they recognise me as a (very) recent customer (Belinda has just finished my wine), since they do not want any passers-by jamming up their precious WC. We get past reception and thankfully the (single unisex) toilet is free. I won’t go into further detail, dear reader, other than to say we barely made it. Phew.

Back to the beach for some Frisbee and wading. Lovely.

We slowly walk back to the station, which is packed. Where have all these bloody tourists come from? We go to the wrong platform and then quickly dash back to the right one, just making the very crowded (standing room only) train.

We get off at Vernazzo, along with every other tourist currently in Italy. It takes us 20 minutes to move off the hopelessly inadequate platform. We shuffle through the horribly over-crowded village, stopping for Gelato. Why did we come here at such a busy tourist time, we wonder?

A quick look at some shops, when/where the foot traffic paused, before we return to the station. The train is late and there is virtually no room on the platform. We squeeze onto the train and are happy to arrive back at La Spezia.

It’s been a long and amazing day. Chianti beckons.

Today Hamish turned 5. Not every day you can say you spent your 5th birthday in Italy…unless you’re Italian, of course. The day started slowly. Hamish didn’t wake up until nearly 830am, which was lovely for all of us. He unwrapped some gifts from Australia (Aunty and Grandparents), one big box of Italian Lego (Cogo) from the owner of the apartment we are renting and a mini soccer ball and Italian national team soccer shirt from us.

Our plan was to take him to the park (a walk of about 2km), have a play, kick the soccer ball around, have lunch and walk home. Well, he was over the walking after about 5 minutes and from then on, we heard many cries of ‘are we there yet’ and ‘how long is soon’ (in response to us saying, we will be there soon). In all fairness, it was warm and humid and he had dressed himself in long pants.

He soon brightened up when we got to the park. However, this was short lived when it was time to go and get lunch. Not even the promise of gelato was helping. He yelled and kicked and carried on like a 4 year old! The day was going downhill faster than the Italian traffic. We managed to get him into a cafe where he was entertained by the free range pigeons walking around the table.

Once back at home, he settled down to an afternoon movie with Jess (Chicken Run) whilst Rod and I did a bit more exploring in town. His request for his favourite ‘Orange Soup’ (soup made from all orange vegetables) was granted along with grissini for dipping.

A delicious chocolate torte, tasting ever so slightly of alcohol, followed up as birthday cake. And as I write this, he is sleeping soundly.

We packed up our little apartment and said goodbye to our medieval town of Campagna.

 

Although our time here was in some ways stressful, it has provided us with memories for life, none less than the 3 wheeled truck, which was in great abundance.

 

We drove most of Saturday to our new home of La Spezia on the Ligurian coast in Northern Italy. Being the team player that I am, I did some of the driving (freeway only) to allow Rod to have a bit of a break. Happy enough with the 130km speed limit, I spent most of my driving shift constantly moving between the 3 lanes. Passing on the left took some getting used to, but it was the fiercely moving vehicles which appeared out of nowhere that I struggled with. To put this into context, imagine you are driving on an Australian freeway – anywhere really, doesn’t matter. You safely pass a slower moving vehicle; suddenly you are being tailgated by another vehicle in somewhat of an emergency. To show you what sort of a hurry they are in, they flash their lights and speed up just a little bit more so you move over; these vehicles must be doing at least 150km.

We stop for lunch and fuel. AutoGrill was packed with hungry travellers. Placing an order in this mayhem was very difficult for Rod, but somehow he manages to get the message across; take away consists of ham and cheese foccacia and tomato and buffalo mozzarella baguette – not a fried dim sim in sight.

After being on the freeway all day and listening to Hamish’s off key monotone rendition of the Gorillaz, we finally exit the freeway and line up for the toll payment. Rod gets a few coins out ready, however, I suspect he has underestimated the cost of using the Italian tollway. He seems shocked when the price is shown as 49 euro; he still has the coins in his hand when I give him a 50 euro note.

We place all faith in the SatNav again and are not let down. There are lots of narrow lanes and laneways and one slender tunnel, but after Campagna, this is a walk in the park. Mirrors do not need to be retracted.

Mdm Bernice shows us into our beautiful apartment. She takes one look at our busy Hamish and reminds us we have not paid a security deposit and all damages must be paid for. The owner of the apartment (not Mdm B.) has left him a present for his birthday. Before Mdm B. has shut the door, we are all logged onto the wifi. Heaven.

Hamish

Good – Having ice cream 

Bad – Walking…I just don’t like walking

Standout – I like a picnic breakfast (nothing special here, just a variety of food on the table for breakfast: yoghurt, fruit, breads, jam – help yourself)

Jess 

Good – Very little jet-lag, pasta, pizza, ice-cream, chocolate, scenery is amazing, nice house and backyard, Paestum and Pompeii.

Bad – Flight long and boring, nothing to do, uncomfortable, confined to your seat, can’t go anywhere, can’t sleep. Not getting the car straight away at the airport. The internet – unreliable (something that I love so much has hurt me so bad, it’s not always there for me like it is back home). Humidity of Pompeii.

Standout – Just being in Italy, so happy to be here

Rod

Good – friendly locals, village of Campagna and all its mysteries, the scenery both in Campagna and on the coast, the ruins, the food.

Bad – the traffic, poor excuses for streets, feeling totally lost twice, sleep deprivation

Standout – the village of Campagna

Belinda

Good – arriving safely in Italy, not flying over Iraq, Syria and Turkey (as the Emirates flight path had suggested – we flew over Saudi Arabia and Egypt instead), cheap and delicious pizza, cheap wine, walking into the village to buy a few things (zucchini, grapes, bread, ham, cheese, wine), Paestum and Pompeii. Rod has done a great job driving under very stressful conditions.

Bad – Not being able to buy water at Rome airport: credit card wouldn’t work in the machine, only had 20 Euro for the vending machine (machine only took 10 Euro and less), everyone exhausted and thirsty, trying to sort out the car issue – it was a nightmare.

Standout – the cry of ‘internet, internet’ when the WiFi kicks in. Rod, Jess and I grab devices and go crazy until it cuts out again. It’s really very funny – didn’t realise how reliant we were on the internet. Try going without it for a few days – all our organisation for the trip, keeping in touch with family and friends, so many things need the internet. First thing in the morning when we hear notifications, Hamish will yell out “Jess, internet.”

After a designated ‘home day’, where Hamish managed a two hour nap in the afternoon, we decide to hit Pompeii. Rod has no trouble navigating his way, even when the first roundabout in Pompeii has three lanes of traffic in a single lane, pointing in various directions, not unlike a tetris game. Except in tetris, there are rules.

The way to the Pompeii site is well signed, however parking might be problematic. Out of the blue and next to the most amazing gelato bar, we find a very spacious car park which turns out to be 50 metres from the entrance. Our luck is in. We also happen across a tourist information centre with staff who speak excellent English. We are set up with what we need for our self-guided tour and head off.

Although we have a rough idea about what happened at Pompeii, being there is something else. It is surreal. 2000 years later and some of the building are still very impressive. Our audio guide is useful, but it’s hard to manage with a busy Hamish whose feet have found the only puddles on the cobblestone track. He is the loudest person at the site. Not even the Americans can compete.

We stay for about three hours, ensuring we have at least attempted to find some of the more intact, interesting sites. My Lonely Planet guide has suggested the brothel is a must-see. It’s smallish and packed with visitors. There are many interesting frescoes on the walls, depicting, well suggesting, how one might like to spend their time…if you know what I mean. Hamish tells us the beds are hard. He finds the toilet in the brothel and has a sit down. He is all class.

After exiting this amazing place (Pompeii, not the brothel), the boys take back the audio guides. We have been on the lookout for a deck of cards and Rod finds some at the tourist information centre. However, they are reminiscent of the aforementioned frescoes. As a result, we are still without a deck of cards.
The drive on the A3 back to Campagna rises above Salerno providing stunning views back along the coast. No signs of failed developments here! It is spectacular.

Being an Aussie family we decided to do what we usually do on holidays – that is, go to the beach. We check the map. We are about 30 minutes or so from the Western coast of Italy. So, with picnic packed and a very excited Hamish we set off.

We arrive at the beach only to find the road we thought we could drive on was blocked. We get fuel and head south towards Paestum, which is an historic archaeological site (not unlike most of Italy). The beach road is lined with one failed tourism venture after another on one side and prostitutes on the other. It seems we have hit the red light district of this coastal section of Italy. Not one to judge, we don’t mind that we have stumbled across this working end of town, but we are not stopping for any picnic lunch at the beach.

Further on, we find a sign ‘Mare’ which leads towards the ocean. The road is wide and newish looking, we decide to give it a go. Jess looks like she has a sour taste in her mouth – Hamish encourages us to leave the safety of the vehicle. He is oblivious. Jess and I stand with arms crossed in a very defensive posture, all the while looking for used syringes and checking our car hasn’t been nicked. Hamish wastes no time to take off his sandals and put his feet into the clear waters of the Mediterranean.

We head back to the car with Hamish asking questions about the proposed picnic. Soon enough we reach the tourist haven of Paestum and have our picnic at the front of the museum. Rod buys us tickets for the museum and the ruins. Jess and I find the toilets and it turns out Jess has used the last of the toilet paper in the entire building. Lucky me.

We spend the next hour or so wandering around the ruins of this archaeological park. It is quite amazing and has the best preserved Greek temple in the world. Those Greeks knew how to build a temple.

The day is topped off by gelato and our car is right where we left it. Winning.

Written by Rod

The major highways in Italy are fantastic. Three lanes in either direction. Great signage. Cruisy driving. The roads/lanes off the highway and in the villages are a nightmare. It vaguely resembles some sort of video game; where you accelerate and pull out and pass a slower vehicle on a whim and slow down to squeeze past an oncoming vehicle in the narrower sections. Cars just seem to be parked wherever someone felt the need to hop out of their car for a chat or to pop into a shop. The locals drive care-free; on their phones and/or smoking. At least one hand waving in the air at all times. I drive with permanent white knuckles, in a state of constant apprehension of the next situation.  There is not a moment of relaxation to be had at the wheel once off the highway. I am getting sweaty palms and palpitations as I write this. I kid you not.

We reach Campagna. We have Sat Nav built into our leased, brand new Peugeot. We also have some directions written down by the former owner of our property. We also have the contact number of our host in Campagna. What could possibly go wrong? None of these prevent the drama of the next hour or so. In fact, they are all complicit. Firstly, it turns out the directions are very confusing. We ditch these when we get to the village. Next, we call the host, who, it turns out, speaks no English. We send him a photo of the roundabout where we are lost, hoping he will rescue us. I think, as I write this 2 days later, it is still sending. He sends us latitude/longitude coordinates in decimal format. I change these into degrees/minutes/seconds using my calculator and we decide to give Sat Nav a go. Biggest mistake of my life, not counting my ex-wife.

I figure Sat Nav can get us close with these coordinates, then either Plan A (the written directions) or Plan B (contact the host) will be more likely to succeed. Sat Nav had other ideas. I was led through the bowels of Campagna. Each new laneway was narrower than the last. “Surely not!” was my constant reaction. Jess had to get out of the car to check that we could fit through. Fortunately, the Peugeot has retractable side mirrors. Otherwise we would not have made it through. I am not exaggerating.

We then crossed an “intersection”, comprised of 4 buildings pointing towards a crossing of doom. Sat Nav wants me to turn right, but there is no room. I have to go across the “intersection”, into a dead end, so that I can then reverse and turn back into the intersection. There is a car parked in this cul de sac.

It restricts my turning room and I feel like Austen Powers, inching back and forward to no effect. Fortunately the owner appears out of nowhere and moves his car. It is still a tight fit and his experience in this “intersection” is vital in helping us to extricate our vehicle. He points me in the same direction as Sat Nav and thus instantly creates suspicion. I look at Belinda and she shrugs. So I follow our new Messiah, down the lane.

Now we come to a T “intersection”, just as narrow as the previous “intersection”, only with one less option. The Messiah tries to coach me around this corner. It’s like deja vu all over again with the Austen Powers thing. “Avanti” is his common command. He motions me to turn the wheel and, when I look puzzled, simply reaches inside my window and turns the wheel for me. Belinda thought he would climb on my lap at one stage. (This was not an option, due to the lack of room in the laneway.) Belinda, in one of her finest team-player moments, also thought about filming the whole scene. (This is on a par with her decision that I would do all the driving in Italy.) In hindsight, I wish she had; it would have been hilarious.

All the while, we have been on sloping cobblestones. Stalling and rolling back have been constant threats (and realities). The razor sharp corners of the buildings almost have me in tears. (I am cast back 30 years or so, to my Driver’s Licence test, when my legs shook like jelly on the San Andreas fault, as I tried to complete my reverse parallel park.) My left hand mirror did clip a corner at one stage, but sustained no damage.

Eventually he gets me around the corner and we drive around a real corner and park in a bit more space. This is the light at the end of the tunnel. Belinda has the bright idea to call our host and get him to talk to the Messiah. Not sure how we will know what the outcome is…

It turns out that he knows our host. He motions us to stay put and our host will be here anon. All the while, I had been so focussed on the Peugeot and the pointy buildings, that I had almost forgotten that Hamish had been sitting in the back seat all the while. I asked if he was okay. “That was fun”, he said.

Thirty minutes later, we are guests at a wedding, tucking into a yummy lunch with carafes of well-deserved red wine, whilst admiring the amazing view.

Welcome to Campagna.

We picked up the car and headed to our first night’s accommodation “Palazzo Rosa” in Torrice, about 90 mins south of Rome. If we had any doubt we were no longer in Australia, the Palazzo Rosa confirmed we were definitely in Italy. Narrow, hilly streets, lack of road signage, tourism brochure views, this was our first taste of the real Italy.

Our young host, Mike, spoke decent enough English and checked us in. He asked us if the price was correct – surely he knew how much his rooms sell for? Anyway, we were all pretty happy to get out of our travelling clothes, get through the shower and head downstairs to the café for dinner.

Neither the chef nor the waiter spoke any English, but we got by with a bit of help from Mike. We ordered 4 serves of pasta; 2 x mushroom fettucine, 2 x bacon/tomato spaghetti. We were given bread with cherry tomatoes and what looked like ham fat, drizzled with olive oil. Delish. The pasta was also lovely. Hamish started to lose the plot somewhat, so we hurried upstairs and all went to bed.

I’d woken up with a pounding headache at 4am and hit the Panadol. Still had it when I woke again at 8am – realised I hadn’t had a coffee for near on two days. 1 x espresso = headache gone. Breakfast (included in our price) consisted of breads, ham, cheese, yoghurt, fruit and lots of sweet bakery treats. Hamish had Nutella on pikelets, both Jess and Rod had some sort of cake; they were pretty happy to be able to legitimately be eating sweets for breakfast!

We headed off feeling pretty good to be going to our rental property in Campagna, for the next 6 days.

I would like to say the trip to Rome was uneventful; it was not. I can honestly say, and the rest of the clan would back me up with this, the best thing about it was arriving in Rome. It’s not what you think. Yes, the flights are long and cramped and yes, you never really get any sleep, but if that was the only issue, I’d have nothing to write about.

1. Customs Strike – Melbourne

Being super organised, we had no trouble booking in and getting through customs with plenty of time to spare. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 2255 and we were probably at the gate by about 2130. Unfortunately for the 400 odd people on board, there were nine people who, for whatever reason, had been not so organised. I think it was the pilot who announced customs staff would not fast track them. We waited for these last remaining passengers to get through customs and our plane finally took off just after midnight.

2. Hamish

Hamish promptly fell asleep soon after we boarded. Rod and I foolishly thought we were going to be set for the rest of the flight; I mean, the kid can sleep. Two hours later Hamish woke up in a terrible state, crying and screaming. I held him and tried to calm him. No good. Rod tried. No good. “I want my sister Jessie!” I think Rod was happy to hot foot it out of there and swap seats with Jess. Hamish calmed down and settled in to watch 8 back to back episodes of Peppa Pig. By this stage it’s about 0230. Awesome. 2 hours in.

3. Do you need a Nurse?

I think a few of you know I was keen to deliver a baby on my flight to Rome. I mean, I don’t know much about it, but I figured it would pass the time. I’ll let you off the hook. I didn’t deliver a baby.

I set off to take Hamish to the toilet. As we got there I noticed a pair of feet sticking out from the corridor where the toilets are. I didn’t initially get involved, but after a few seconds, I stuck my head around the corner to see a youngish guy with oxygen on and another young (and amazingly good looking) guy at the airway end of things. A couple of male flight attendants were also there, plus this guys’ Mum. I said, “Do you need some help? I am a nurse.” Well, they were all very relieved I was there. Turns out the airways guy was some sort of ambulance driver from London who knew a thing or two. He basically handed over that he had found this guy on hands and knees crawling to the bathroom; thought he was smashed. He wasn’t. Guy had leg cramps, dizziness and headache. In this middle of this ‘handover’ Hamish says, “Mummy I have to do a wee now!” I told them I’d be back in a minute. With Hamish hand balled to Jess, Mr Gorgeous and I did a bit of an assessment of vital signs and I did a neurovascular assessment on his calves/legs. They were fine. We all thought he was perhaps a bit dehydrated and had some soft tissue damage to his calf; turns out he runs 12km per day and had already strained his calf prior to the flight.  One of the flight attendants took him down to the back of the plane where there was a bit of space for him to walk around and stretch his legs. After a bit more of a chat to Mr Gorgeous about the guy, I went back to my seat. 30 minutes had gone by in a flash. Excellent.

4. You’ll have to call the flight attendant

Guy’s Mum came and asked me for more assistance for her son (who I suspect was in his early 30’s) a few hours later. He told me he was still dizzy and every time his head fell forward, it was hard for him to breathe. It was hard for me not to laugh! I told him to recline his chair; “It’s not comfortable,” he replied. I said, “Mate, look around you, no-one is comfortable.” He was turning into ‘that’ patient. He wanted the oxygen. Mum asked me to get some oxygen, I said she’d have to call for a flight attendant. To be honest, I don’t think there was much wrong with the guy, except he was probably needed fluid and electrolyte replacement and a big shot of cement.

5. Turbulence

I once read turbulence for a plane is like a bumpy road for a car. Tell that to Hamish’s stomach. Why is it when you need a spew bag there’s none. Fortunately I had my bare hands to catch Hamish’s late night snack as it poured from his mouth. Is this the greatest sign of love? I mean, you know you really love someone if you’re prepared to catch their spew. Of course at this stage, all flight attendants were buckled in for the bumpiness so Jess and I dealt with this hell until I woke Rod up to help find a vomit bag. At the same time, Jess who has been dealing with Hamish so well, looks out the window to see the haze of clouds brightened by the planes beacon lights. She shuts the window as a means to dealing with the turbulence which she hates; she’s feeling sick too.

So picture this. Jess is sitting in the window seat looking paler than usual with a vomit bag ready. Hamish in the middle, is covered in vomit. I am in the aisle seat, holding my hands up like a surgeon waiting to have his gloves put on. Like troopers, we just wait it out until the pilots give the all clear. We have a spare set of clothes for Hamish and he happily strips down to his boxers whilst we clean up. Great. Another hour down.

6. Dubai

The rest of the flight is actually, uneventful. My ‘patient’ has a team of paramedics waiting for him at the airport. I receive a first class toiletries pack as a gift from a grateful flight attendant. I tell him it was not necessary, but I love it anyway.

Dubai is the most organised, clean airport I have even seen. We arrive late, of course, and work out how to get to the next gate (by train) and board relatively quickly. Emirates flight is lovely. Food excellent. Staff all good looking. Hamish sleeps for the next 5 hours and only wakes up as we are getting ready to descend into Rome. Lucky child.

7. Customs Strike – Rome

It appeared the Customs Officers at Rome airport were also on strike, but it’s just the speed they go. The line for customs was extremely long, and just when you think you’re nearing the front, there’s a barrier that snakes around and around, so it just appears you’re getting close. The situation was not improved by Hamish yelling out, “I’m sick of lining up!” I mean, I guess it’s what everyone else was thinking too. Customs officer did not even look up at us as we gave him our passports; just stamped them and waved us through.

8. Peugeot who?

We were to pick up our Peugeot lease car from Rome airport. Rod had called to double check the booking Wednesday prior to our departure. You can probably imagine how we were all feeling getting to Rome. Excited to finally be here, I couldn’t even express in interpretive dance how exhausted we all were. We didn’t expect there would be someone holding a sign saying “Dunbar” so we don’t look for it. Pity. Spent the next hour trying to find out where the Peugeot booth at the airport was, had multiple fails at trying to use Rod’s newly acquired travel sim to call Peugeot Italy. Finally got through on a public pay phone and found out where to meet up. Met Marco who probably thought very little of us by this stage. He was very patient though, even when Rod went to drive the shuttle bus to the depot: “No Sir, I will drive.”

Post by Belinda

After agonising for weeks about the purchase of an Icebreaker (Bankbreaker) merino skirt, I have finally bitten the bullet and ordered it today. Ordering online has been great due to limited choices of local stores for some of the things I think we might need. Rod has once again, been of little help in these matters, happy for me to purchase whatever I suggest: thermal leggings for Hamish, wool blend shirt for him. It is quite difficult to know exactly what we will require in the depths of a European winter – layering has been the key to our packing…however, our Aussie idea of layering might not make the grade. We will see.

Hamish has grown 3cm in the past 3 months, so today, as an alternative to finishing an essay, I sorted through his ‘Europe’ clothes (again) to make sure he hasn’t grown out of anything. He hasn’t. Most things in miniature look cute and Hamish in his thermals is no exception. Over the past few months as purchases have arrived, I have packed them into his suitcase. As a result if we had to leave tomorrow, Hamish would be sorted. The rest of the family is another matter: Jess has a passport and packet of tissues in a backpack, Rod has nothing packed and the shoe debate continues for me.

26 days to go.