In Dusseldorf...

In the dead of night, the trams sound like an invading force of tanks, rumbling to a stop four floors below me. If you need an early morning call and you're staying in what was the Novum Madison (but is now Garners, part of the IHG group) you can pretty much bet on the trams waking you up. They woke me up, on many occasions, and each time I simply lay there staring at the ceiling and, oddly, thinking of that moment in The Polar Express movie when the train arrives outside the boy's house and everything starts shaking and rattling.

Since IHG has taken over they've spruced the place up a bit, but not by much; there's still a rough edge to the place and they've replaced proper hotel room keys with, yes, those awful key card things. My room (room 44) is huge and I could easily play table tennis in what amounts to unwanted space between the bed and the wardrobe. That said, I'm glad I have a wardrobe and not, like the Moxy in Nashville, a few wooden hooks sticking out of the wall. There's a desk too so I was quids in having spent a whole week in the Music City without desk or wardrobe and then, a week later, the same scenario but in Rotterdam. Perhaps wardrobes and desks are not part of the future for hotels. Let's hope they remain in situ.

My favourite restaurant of all time was fully booked, Christmas parties apparently, even in late November, so I found myself trolling around the streets after dark looking for somewhere decent to eat and not really finding anywhere apart from the usual crapperama (pizza restaurants mainly). That said, there was a place called Pho, a Vietnamese place as far as I could gather, but unfortunately for me, my earlier desperation to eat something had led to a chocolate bar, a Ritter Sport, which I'd bought to break up a 50 Euro note. I just about managed to eat the spring rolls (which were great) but the huge bowl of noodles and strips of crispy fried duck, not forgetting the pak choi and everything else, was too much and for the first time in my life (I think) I admitted defeat. "No, no, no, it was great, it's just that I stuffed my face with a chocolate bar and now I'm full up," I said, meaning every word of it because it was true and hoping they'd understand, but of course they didn't give a damn, I was still paying.

Room 44, Garners Hotel...

Afterwards, I wandered around in the dark peering into shop windows before eventually returning to the hotel and later being rudely awakened by the aforementioned early morning trams. Not that I was getting much in the way of sleep. I was due to moderate the opening session of an event on the outskirts of town the following morning, so I found myself reading through what I had to do (as I always do on these occasions) and then getting back into bed and listening to the noises of the city outside the window. It wasn't just trams; somewhere out there was a drunk shouting the odds at someone or something before he was drowned out by yet another tram.

When the event was over, I was invited to dinner and accepted. I just made it back to the hotel and had enough time to put some power into my iphone before jumping into a cab and heading for the shopping district of town. All the big brand names were there, Max Mara, Fendi, you name it and while I managed to check out some expensive watches that I couldn't afford, I didn't really have time to dawdle about. Later I walked back to the hotel, it took all of 20 minutes. It's hard to get lost in Dusseldorf.

The following morning, after more early morning trams, and another loud drunk (perhaps it was the same guy) I had a late breakfast and then hoofed it down to Dusseldorf central station to buy a ticket to Brussels Midi. I then tidied the room, put my suitcases behind the front desk before heading off on a trek into nowhere, which ended prematurely in a coffee shop (Mr. Ben's Coffee Shop no less) where I ordered a cappuccino and a flapjack. I always think I can relax, but when I'm travelling and I have places to be at specific times I always find myself preoccupied with the time and can't really settle. I strolled back to the hotel, picked up my suitcase, loitered for a while and then headed for the station. Platform 15, 1254, but it was late, arriving just past 1300hrs, a short ride to Cologne and then another train, the one I'm on now, heading to Brussels, where I'll have another wait for my EuroStar train.

Dusseldorf has always been my favourite European city, or one of them. I like them all to be honest, apart from Paris. A couple of weeks ago I spent a few days in Udine in northern Italy; that was great, but it was ruined by the cheese and ham rolls and the sugary cakes, which were everywhere, and then there's Linz in Austria, which is a longish train ride from Vienna, home of The Third Man ferris wheel and other attractions. In Linz there used to be a shop called Wanke. Yes, I know, very juvenile, but also very funny. I don't think it's there anymore, perhaps the shop owner went blind.

View from Room 44...

I wasn't that keen on Rotterdam, which I keep misspelling as Rotherham, especially after seeing a giant rat waddle unaccompanied into a restaurant. I won't be eating there, I thought. On that occasion I was staying in an easyHotel, which is basically a room and that's it: no breakfast, no wardrobes and no desk, but it was fine, especially after my adventure in Nashville where I was first introduced to the concept of hotel rooms without wardrobes and desks. These things are sent to try us and ultimately I find myself accepting whatever I initially thought of as a problem. In fact, where the Moxy was concerned, I felt a little guilty about criticising the hotel as it all worked out in the end.

We've just left Liege in Belgium and the weather is piss poor: grey skies and drizzly rain. In fact, everything is grey, not just the sky but the roads and the buildings and probably the people too, everybody shuffling around in puffa coats and trainers. Or perhaps that's just the UK.

I'm now in Exki, it's a cafe on Brussels Midi station. I was here on the way out on Tuesday morning as I needed somewhere with wifi so I could attempt to book a train online. Why couldn't I use the ticket office like normal? Because there was a three-day public services strike and there were no ticket people working. It proved a huge problem and in the end I even considered flying to Dusseldorf, but in the end help was at hand and one person checked me in for a train to my favourite German city. Now I'm back, awaiting the 1756 EuroStar to London. I can't wait. I've ordered roughly the same as I ordered when I was last here on Tuesday afternoon, but again I have to complain about the cuisine. When you're on the road, the food is basically a load of rubbish. Here it was all cheese again: cheese quiche (I hate quiche) followed by a cheesecake and, foolishly, I bought a cookie, which I've yet to eat. I'd buy a cup of tea in which to dunk said cookie but time is running out and I'd probably miss my train.

Time is a real issue at the moment. It doesn't matter how early you get up, time seems to catch up with you. On the way out here I was awake around 0330hrs knowing that my alarm was going off at 0600hrs, but I couldn't sleep as I didn't want to oversleep and miss my train, so I got up and got everything ready and then I was given a lift to the station and I jumped on the 0709 train to London Victoria, took the tube to St Pancras International and then, after going through security and what have you and despite seemingly having enough time, it turned out that there was no time to chill whatsoever. I  just about managed to eat a custard Danish and drink a cup of tea and it was time to go. Soon the train was called, Platform Five, and suddenly we were off, heading for Brussels. And when I got to my destination I was told of the public services strike and time crept up on me again. I figured if the worse came to the worse I would fly, but as I said above, everything was suddenly fine, but by the time I reached Dusseldorf and checked into my hotel time was running out fast. There were no tables at my favourite restaurant and suddenly time was in free fall again. But you know all of this, I'm just saying how odd it is that even if you 'leave enough time' you soon don't have any left. It's like now, I've only got around 20 minutes before my alarm goes off and I have to check in for the EuroStar home, everything seems to run after everything else, I can't get off the roundabout. The only occasion when time stands still is if you get to the airport early, security is fast and you have the full two hours in a cafe somewhere.

So I'm sitting in Exki and for good reason. I could have gone through the barriers for the Eurostar but I know there's nothing there, nowhere to chill, just a shop selling tacky duty free tatterama and I don't want that, no sir. The friendly woman on the door so to speak told me that there would be an Exki inside the terminal in the new year, which is great. I'll remember that for when I next find myself here in Brussels.

Lastly, I don't know about you, but I really resent having to pay to go to the restrooms. I firmly believe that if "they" could charge you for the air you breathe they would. And something else, lights on timer switches. No! How many times have I fallen foul of them (read one of my previous posts on the Quo Vadis hotel in Udine for more). This time, I was in a cubicle when it went pitch black and again, I found myself waving my arms about trying to get the light to come on again. It did but I decided there and then to use my iphone light for when it goes off again (which it didn't). It's all very annoying. While I get the point of energy saving lights, not in the cubicle of a toilet, have some respect for heaven's sake. The last thing I need is to piss all over the floor because I can't see where I'm aiming. Surely, make sure the lights in the toilets are not on a timer OR that the timer is set to be on for, I don't know, 10-15 minutes. Give people a chance. It's 1648hrs and I've got around 10 minutes before my alarm sounds and I have to make my way to the EuroStar terminal for the last leg of my journey. I simply can't wait to get home, but I can say that it's been a very successful trip.

The ride to London was boring. Having eaten a lot of rubbish, I decided not to tempt myself by visiting the buffet car. I read a bit of my book, The Absence by Budgie, the former drummer of the Banshees. It's a great book and well written. We arrived home bang on time at 1900hrs and then I crossed London on the tube and took a train to my home town.

The Kona is back on the road!

First, let's get over the moaning, because I always moan a little when I take a bike to the shop for repair. Normally, the chief reason for this is that I come away thinking that, for the money spent, I could have bought a new bike. I remember once, when I took my old Kona to Cycle King in Croydon some years ago, they actually told me I'd be better off buying a new bike. They weren't wrong, of course, but the problem at the time was that the 'new bike' I could buy with the money was a low-spec Ammaco with block brakes or something similar. So then, as now, I forked out the cash and got the bike repaired.

Kona Scrap, fixed, outside Cycle King, Thursday 20 November 2025.

Later I did buy another bike. Why, I don't know, and in retrospect I wish I hadn't. I bought a Specialized Cross Trail Sport Disc and it was far more suitable to the sort of riding I was doing, but for some reason I took a corner too fast when I arrived in Tatsfield village one Sunday afternoon and I came off, hurting myself quite badly. Well, a few cuts and bruises but not a pleasant experience. For some stupid reason I decided to take the Cross Trail back to the shop and swap it with a Specialized Rockhopper mountain bike, telling myself that it was more stable, heavier and unlikely to flip me off of if I took a corner too fast. Not that I was going to be reckless, once was enough. The Rockhopper has 29in wheels and it is, like the Cross Trail, far more suitable for the roads I ride.

Meanwhile, the Kona slowly rotted in the garage. From November 2016 until now, the Kona didn't move, its tyres deflated and every time I walked into the garage to jump on the Rockhopper I spotted it, sitting there doing nothing and looking like a neglected pet. I kept promising myself that one day I would take it down to the shop and get it working again. Years passed and I did nothing but in the end I took the plunge and walked the bike, yes, I walked it, all the way to Cycle King (around two miles). The guy in the shop (Dexter) gave the bike an inspection and told me what I already feared: there was a lot to be done. I knew that I needed a new chain and block, I knew I needed new brakes and was told I also needed a new rear wheel. The whole lot, I was told then, would set me back around £275. Fair enough, I thought. But then, a few days later, I got a call. There was other stuff: the headset, the bottom bracket, possibly a new front wheel and a new front disk. All-in-all, I was told, it was going to cost over £400, possibly even £500! Naturally, I was suspicious but perhaps in retrospect I should have kept the faith. I was told that the front disc was 'contaminated'. Fair enough, but on Googling 'contaminated discs', the remedy was to wipe it with a damp cloth. Hmmmmm... But perhaps I did need a new one. I was, of course, in a bit of a cleft stick, but to be fair to Cycle King, I could have said no more, just fix the brakes and put on a new chain and block. To me, that was all I could see that was wrong with it. I was told a few days later that it would cost £386 to fix and it was decision time. In the end, perhaps foolishly, I decided to go for it as long as the price didn't go over £386. It didn't. In fact, it was less. The total cost was £363, so a saving of £23!

When I took the bike into Cycle King I didn't have a saddle on it, or rather I did have, let's say, half a saddle, the old Spongy Wonder, so when I went to pick up the bike, I took in the original Kona saddle and they kindly fitted it on for free, meaning that I could ride it home. I must admit that having used the Rockhopper for the past nine years it was strange getting on to the Kona again, a completely different riding experience and don't forget, the Kona only has 16 gears compared to the Rockhopper's 27. But what a great-looking bike, it really is and I'm so glad I never got rid of it. Kona bicycles do look good. Andy has a Kona Blast and it stands out whenever I see it. My plan is to ride it somewhere, possibly Oxted, although I wonder how the bike will cope with Titsey Hill. Perhaps a less steep incline like the return ride from Westerham up Clarks Lane would be easier, but I'm thinking Oxted, give it a real work-out.

Dexter down at Cycle King has said bring it in if you notice anything that might need tweaking. I'm guessing if there is a problem it will have something to do with the gears, but let's see. Here's to having the Kona Scrap back. It's in the garage, it's fixed and it's great.

Saturday afternoon, 22 November: a trip to London in the rain and it never stopped, but for some reason it didn't bother me. I happily strolled around town in the rain safe in the knowledge that the clothes I was wearing were keeping me dry. It was a good time, punctuated as it was by a trip to a cafe. All very chilled. Reached home at 1800hrs and now I'm watching Jake and Johnny on YouTube. Yeah, I know, but sometimes it fits my mood.

 

Heading home...

The train journey to Milan was fairly chilled and I found a buffet car where I ordered a cup of tea. Most of my time was spent copy typing blogposts on to the blog proper and then doing not much else. Unfortunately, while I had a 'window seat', the 'window' was, in fact, a grey pillar, making looking out of it a bit problematic.

As the train drew closer to Milan it began to fill up, but my seat wasn't taken until the very end of the journey. The woman that sat next to me spent her time reading WhatsApps and watching a video about bears interacting with humans and being chased away by dogs.

Arriving back at Milano Centrale station...

I decided to pay a visit to the Bistrot again except that on this occasion I would go to the back of the place where it was possible to sit down at a proper table to eat. Not that it was much different from the front part of the place where people had to use computer terminals, like those in McDonald's, to order, yes, you guessed it, variations on a cheese and ham roll and all very unhealthy in the greater scheme of things. This time, however, things were different. The food was of a higher quality and involved actual vegetables, which I hadn't seen for a few days. I ordered chicken escalope with green beans and roasted potatoes, which were great but could have been a little warmer. I foolishly bought a bottle of Coke (I never drink Coke) and ended up putting it in my pocket to consume later. 

Sufficiently chilled, if that's the word, I decided to wander around the busy concourse having bought my ticket to Malpensa airport. I decided to get on the next available train, which was leaving from platform one as the ticket didn't specify a particular train. I was on the 1655 and it was crowded. The journey took around one hour and when I reached the airport I went through security, drinking that bottle of Coke, or most of it, as my suitcase sat on the security conveyor. Once on the other side I wandered a little and was pleased to note that I could sit down without having to buy anything. I sub-edited my initial blogpost about being on the train from Milan to Udine and then found a Pret where I bought a bottle of sparkling mineral water and the first decent cup of English Breakfast tea. After drinking the water I hoofed it to Gate E28, which somehow changed to E26 where I queued for the plane.

The flight was fine. I was in seat 1C, an aisle seat, but it was all good and the skies were clear. Coming into Gatwick was a bit choppy but we landed safely and soon I did the usual baggage reclaim bit before taking a cab home. I was home around 2300hrs.