Guinness World Record Holding Pizzaria

Guys, I have just eaten food prepared by the hands of one blessed by the last surviving McWhirter twin – Norris. Sadly now also dead. Not so Carlo the Guinness World’s bets pizza maker.

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You can only access this place if you are taken there and introduced to the man himself personally by an equally vitalising human  called Francesco,

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My record-holding pizza and the man – Carlo.

Francesco was born in Susa, North Western Italy, He grew up and studied their and became a most famous Lawyer. He climbs incessantly: all of the mountains around Susa but they just weren’t big enough. Ten years ago he also climbed Everest – following in the deformed footsteps of Brian Blessed.

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Francesco

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Francesco and his wife also run the best B&B in the Northern Hemisphere – Beauregard B&B. Like Petrocelli, he haas painstakingly created this place up on a hill with own two soft lawyer (and rather lady-like) hands.

Francesco is a legend in Susa and everybody knows him,

My journey to Francesco’s place was not over the Alps (as I was hoping) but under them, or at least some of them, My hopes of making a pass were dashed when Maurice (who runs the second best B&B in the Northern Hemisphere) called around a load of cop shops and they all told him the same thing “Ze pass, eeet iz closed” because they were French of course. I’m too early in the year and too far North… even some of the major roads are closed.

So I stayed on the big road and took the tunnel to Italy from Chambery. However that is not to say it wasn’t spectacular.

On the way I managed to get some helmet cam action too.

It has been the most gorgeous sunny day and after much planning and aborting due to road closures I have found a twisty road back OVER the Alps that will take me to GAP (not Gay And Proud) but the pen ultimate stop on Route Napoleon and from there I will follow his famous route in reverse – South towards the Riviera almost as far as Cannes!

I realise that I still have some bloggaps to fill but darn it, wait for them.

Are we there yet?

Yes goddammit we are.

I have had:

  • NOT a Full English Breakfast in The Portland – but I did defy the sign forbidding the taking of food from the dining room;
  • Italian Stallion fun deep in the Chunnel – an Italian brother-from-another-mother and his equally Italian girlfriend on a BMW r1400 (if I remember right) off for a two-day blast in Northern France;

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  • A brilliant run down to Troyes where my phone failed me and I was stranded for a couple of hours until finally getting into my first AirBnB experience – it involved two enormous calzones;
  • An even better ride down to Chambery (just north of Grenoble) – I devised a route that took me a little way into the foothills of the Rhone-Alpes – very exciting.
  • The most delightful arrival at my Chambery B&B (Booking.com this time) with a wonderful (possibly im-) mature couple – I’m their last guest before they close for one year and travel the (this) globe! A great evening in a gorgeous city

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  • AND I have now found an exciting looking 2,000m+ mountain pass (Col du Mont-Cenis) that will smuggle my budgie over the Italian border – where I have booked (Booking.com again – not sure I like the AirBnB experience so far) a B&B in Susa – about half way between Chambery and Turin.

I guess I have a lot to blogging catch up on and I will, dear gentle reader – tomorrows run will not be a 4+ hour blast on the motorway (beautiful though they are here – another blog deserved I think) so I hope to get there earlier in the day after a refreshing bit of mountain air.

Then I will chillax and blog-off.

 

 

Premature Exclamation: a messy start

Howzit!

Many of you dear readers, if you had been paying attention, would be looking out with beady eyes for the start of my epic adventure: much like a meerkat, desperate for a wee but sure there’s danger in the long grass, will peer with increasing agitation all around until it’s too late.

Well gentle blogophile, let me tell you: I have had a heck of a start.

I won’t name names. Instead of hitting the cold hard rails of the Eurotunnel this morning I was holding a copy of the Holy Bible and swearing at an official of the court. I really don’t want to go into detail but it involved quite a lot of cash, the protection of minors (not miners, don’t make the same mistake I did), the Crown Plaza Hotel at Heathrow and a 24hr delay to the start of my journey proper.

I blog at your face from my Hotel bed – The Portland Hotel, Folkestone to be precise – where they have very thoughtfully given me a room that slopes. A long day in the saddle is relieved somewhat by lying down and elevating one’s feet. Here the bed automatically provides that inclination: possibly due to seeing too many inclinations of another sort. I did not bring my black-light with me thank goodness but I followed some excellent last minute travel advice and bought 10 pairs of spare Under Rods. Location, Location, Location indeed: after seeing this room it put’s me in mind of Kirsty’s tight, dark entrance with a dirty welcome mat – you must remember that episode.

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Folkestone appears to be in the middle of building its seaside at the moment and there’s some bits that really are trying to be nice. The sun came out this evening as I walked to what must be the one shiny point on this rusty sheriffs badge – The Pullman. Look it up – it is fantastic!

In the morning, after sampling a Full English (not for the first time but possibly that last for a bit) I will be hopping up the road to Calais and from there to my first Goal – Troyes. Had to find new digs though – this time in the centre.

I have also tested a brilliant Gadget for motorcyclists on long journeys… I flipping love it. A special review will appear soon. Goodnight.

 

International Travel: must haves #2

Legal Motorcycling in France Checklist

Here’s a really short, complete, if wildly inaccurate list of the things you need to have or have done to reduce the chance to less than 50% of going to prison (I’m too pretty), being fined very heavily (too pretty again) or suffering significant inconvenience and irritation (too pretty still for the former, the latter, if you include chaffing, is an occupational hazard when this pretty).

I’m really not sure why, but I could not find any single source of information that admitted to being any of the above (short, complete and/or, wildly inaccurate) and so to address that gap in Google’s knowledge I present here my complete, unabridged and unfettered findings.

If you can’t tick all of these boxes then you will almost certainly end up regretting putting any kind of distance between you and the Great British cuppa.

[] Hi viz vest:

This really needs to be on you… if you don’t want to wear one then make sure you can get it and put it on without getting off your seat. If you get pulled over and you’re not wearing it, try to remain on the seat and let the Gendarmes come to you… if you get off and you’re not wearing a vest then you are committing more heinous offence and the fine gets much bigger. They are cheeky man,

[] Helmet retro-reflective stickers:

Not strictly required to be fitted to existing helmets (new ones sold in France require one of a minimum size on each “side” of the helmet, so four required) but cheap and easy to fit and will save hassle if the cops are gunning for you. Man when the pigs are after me it’s a bitch.

[] Pollution Sticker:

Now that’s a new one. Paris, Lyons and Grenoble require all vehicles even foreign registered ones with two wheels and an engine to have one displayed on the front. Big fines for non-compliance and you could be refused entry. Apparently 30 other cities in France are in the queue to do the same. Applying for the sticker is easy and quite cheap but it can take weeks to arrive so don’t leave it until the last minute like everything else.

[] Bulbs:

Yes, we all know this one. Even if you can’t fit them you need them but you don’t need to worry about LEDs these of course never fail and so the French hold them in such high regard that you can flaunt a single set of these with without fear of recrimination.

[] First Aid Kit:

OK – not strictly a legal requirement but better safe than sorry. I’ve discovered that there is a satisfying British Standard for vehicle  first aid kits and they come in different sizes depending on the number of passengers you’re likely to be carrying and/or the accident you’re anticipating.

[] GB Sticker:

Check to see if your number plate has the blue EU sign on it; if not a couple of quid gets you a beautiful self-adhesive version.

[] Breathlysers:

Presumably, just in case you’re so pissed you break the first one trying to spit into it, you are required to have two. But again, everyone knows this one now. They do expire of course… last year’s packet might not keep you out of trouble, like an old condom.

[] No Radar Detectors or Speed Camera Warnings:

Make sure your Sat Nav is disabled in this respect – you should know this one too by now.  If only Sean Connery had taken his stolen submarine to France for the summer instead of the Atlantic Ocean (as depicted in his autobiographical film Red October) he might have assured himself that the Americans, having disabled all of their detectors, would never have kept up with him.

[] Vehicle Registration Document – V5:

It has to be the original (see also Jacobs Cream Crackers) but also take a copy too (see below)

[] UK Driving Licence Photo Card:

And you’d better make sure your bloody photo is up to date – they expire and it’s up to £1000 fine! Plus if it’s out of date the constable could get picky.

[] Insurance:

You’d be really stupid not to make sure you’re insured to ride the bike outside Ingerland – get some travel insurance too. Moneysavingexpert knows how to do everything properly but cheaply.

[] Proof of insurance:

Well der. Take your certificate of insurance and any policy info that’s important – like how to make a claim.

[] Passport:

Jesus, man what’s wrong with you?

AND THERE’S MORE…

There’s quite few extra things on this list that will just go to show others how clever you are in every situation. Not like Bear Grylls. Better than him.

[] Photocopies of all important documents:

Roll these up tightly and put them in a very safe place in case you loose any of the originals.

[] Get your international Health Card:

Free and very handy if you need to have a tightly rolled-up bunch of documents pulled from your arse by a clinician. But again, don’t leave it to the last minute.

 

[] Breakdown cover

Could be in with your insurance… you might want to check you and the trusty machine would be brought home safely if you really broke it.

[] Tyre Repair Kit and Inflator:

Slime is good and comes highly recommended by the Captain. If you buy a compressor to re-inflate your tyre make sure you can plug it in! Some kits have cans of compressed gas, like having your own Sodastream, but check how many cans you will need to fill the tyre on your shiny, if flat, steed. Remember, if it’s less than hard it’s not much use.

[] Mini Fuel Cans

I love these man. I have two half-litre Fuel Friends like the hard red gonads from Optimus Prime. Two of them to allow for perfect balance (at least that’s what Optimus said). The above Captain showed me the merits of having a little bit of a petrol station in your saddlebag. I have a little collapsible silicon funnel too!

[] Spare Keys and keyless padlocks

Squeezed into a secret safe place should be a spare ignition key and why not try using combination padlocks instead of having more keys that are painful to secrete (see also health card above)?

[] Spare pair of Gloves

This is a good one – imagine the disaster if you dropped one of your motorcycle gloves! Plus you can always use them as a dry pair if the French succeed in raining on your parade.

[] Head Torch

This is a torch – that goes on your head! Can you believe it? Izit?

[] Tell your Bank and Phone People

Do not end up putting your card into the ATM and discovering it might as well be a slice of lemon.

[] Look both ways before crossing the road

I like this tip. I use it most of the time.

[] Get a babysitter

If you are likely to be leaving your children at home whilst you travel to France remember that for anything more than a week you should consider a babysitter. These will ensure that Social Services can be deceived and if you pick a strict one then you won’t come home to a mess. Everyone’s a winner.

[] Put some food down for the pets

Pets can be inconvenient, like children (see above) but if you open several tins at a time and hide them around the house this will ensure that the little critters are both entertained and fed (without over-feeding if you hide them well). Note that this won’t work with fish. They are really rubbish at finding stuff (see Finding Nemo) ,

I hope that now you will agree with me that the French have made motorcycling a simple pleasure free from over-burdensome  rules and regulations.

I for one will maintain adequate and artificially elevated levels of lithium in my system as a direct result. I tried the fail safe homeopathic remedy used by motor-cross champions to control my anxieties but in the end I preferred a less fraudulent medication.

Fantastic Voyage #1 (b): Semaine Entry My Dear Watson, Semaine Entry

There I go, getting right into the spirit of things, talking French and that. Albeit a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes story “The Curious Case of a Film Called The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” where Dr Watson asked Holmes when he’ll be arriving in Calais. The hilarious Holmes quips “Semaine entry my dear Watson, Semaine entry” meaning of course “In the week” in Franglaise and mocking his usual catch phrase, “Elementary my dear Watson, elementary”.

This should not be confused with Doyle’s more obvious homoerotic story of Holmes and Watson called “The Bi-Curious Case” when the intrepid duo find themselves trapped overnight in the lemon curd-filled pantry of a Reims patisserie where Holmes reassures Watson with an explanatory “Lemon entry my dear Watson, lemon entry”.

All that was a seamless segue that will mirror my own transition from tourer to tourist: I will enter France on the Eurotunnel train and disembark in Calais late morning on Tuesday 4th April and that, dear reader, commences the Trans-Continental adventure.

Copy of snails

In many ways that has already started as the entire family has been eating nothing but garlic snails for weeks but this will mark a physical transition.

The Good Captain Bernie Winters (see Blog entry special) explained the importance of setting a goal and for the fist stop, given that I need to go down South, needs to be beyond Gay Paris. Hence my first goal, set a little while ago is Troyes (see Goal #1).

As before this is going to be a motorway journey, fast and clean but with the added bonus of Toll Charges! I feel a blog on that coming on don’t you worry.Picture1

Here’s Google’s answer to getting there, now note the lack of miles: from here on out, it’s all in kilometres. In this case it’s nearly 400km (2,000 furlongs).

By the time I get there I will be ready for a cup of french coffee from Veronique at the Elmy Nodule Cottage. Visiting a cottage or two will be one of the highlights I’m sure.

Looking again at this long blue vein, I have now resolved to use the power of google to investigate the road:

1) I must familiarise myself with the route itself and

2) I must not a) pee my pants or b) run out of petrol. A couple of pit stop blogs will be needed!

Beyond night number one? Well I was going to set my second goal for Grenoble, HOWEVER – I have just discovered that it is one of three cities in France that require a pollution sticker on pain of a hefty fine: Paris and Lyons being the other two, with many more in the queue behind them! At first I thought it a helpful pointer from the Mail on Sunday that I could politely ignore, but no! It really is true, like the straight banana, so I have decided on another goal…

But that will be the subject of yet more blogging! God I love this thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fantastic Voyage #1 (a): Leaving Blighty

Ok, so D-Day is fast approaching and I need to get specific about how the heck I’m going to get to wherever it is I’ll end up.

No doubt you will have lapped up my blog about the first stop so now that I have a fixed point at the end of Day One
– it’s time to journey-plan.Image result for all creatures great and small checking pregnant cow

The first couple of days needs to see me reaching James Herriot-like deep into the French nether regions so that I can concentrate on
the Francais bits I quite fancy (see Captain Bernie Winters).

That means burning rubber to get off the pock-marked, bumpy and grumpy roads of Ingerland so that the toll-roads of France, smooth like butter baby, can convey me effortlessly through the unnecessarily convoluted and complex nomenclature of regions in northern France (an enforced requirement of B-EUROcrats do doubt) to the sun, mountains and seas in the South and of course the Italian tip.

Image result for all creatures great and small checking pregnant cowIt’s worth noting – FYI – that James Herriot’s true love was not cows at all but small dogs and usually in a tag-team:

Back to the journey. This approach makes for easy planning really – dull journeys that need to be over quickly are best left to husbands or Google.

I haven’t found a suitablemap1 husband yet so this is what the Googleier says (see this link too).

Also take note reader: this could be the last map for a while with the correct distances marked. Miles, originally conceived by the Romans who brought it to London where it was properly defined as the very sensible eight furlongs, is clearly and usefully shown on this map along with the number 197.

If you’re wondering about how long a furlong is then the simple answer is one-eighth of a mile which co-incidentally is also the distance one’s oxen can drag a lump of iron through a muddy Lincolnshire field without being required to have a rest stop (again by the same B-EUROcrats as before, not for long though).

Anyway 200 Ingerlish miles will get me on to the train that will slip gently inside Britannia’s rusty crown and plunge through that dark tunnel before emerging into the blinking sunlight of the Continent floating just of our shores. A continent that once provided an open-armed welcome to our top villains from the 1970’s, gasped in awe at our ability to change colour with prolonged exposure to the sun (protected only by the humble sock inside our sandal) and stood slack-jawed and agog to discover we’d packed teabags, Marmite and baked beans instead of pants whilst travelling. Well roll-over Beethoven, we’re coming back.

Goal #1: First Night Stop

Thanks to the good kind Captain Bernie Winters (see Officer & A Gentleman blog) getting beyond Paris on day one is the objective… In fact I have chosen Troyes in the Champagne-Ardenne region as it.

Troyes is a prehistoric settlement first overrun by Celtic immigrants (oh how times change) and first written about in the 2nd century BC by a Greek chip shop magnate (only much later did they become well known as shipping magnates).

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Interestingly in 451 AD their good Bishop Guadeloupe married Attila the Hun in order to save the city from rampage. A fate the holy man came to know only too well.

A few hundred years after that, King Louie joyously usurped the then ruler known as Bald Charlie and decided to be crowned there – rubbing it in a bit I think, but these are French guys.

Luckily the whole place burned down in 1524 and unsurprisingly the French locals rejoiced in the chance to embrace modern town planning : or what passed for it in the 16th century.

Anyway, given all this history I decided to go back in time and choose Le Coteau de L’orme to sleep in!

Literally translated as “Elmy Nodule” – quite fitting.

Close by is the famous windmill – Le Moulin Dosches – Guinness world record holder for being officially the slowest turning windmill in the whole world. Also close by is the Orient Forest (also a record holder: smallest and wateriest forest in the EU but I guess that will have to change soon).

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The owner, Veronique – who makes a lovely salad with grapes and that in it – has already sent me a welcome message in a very acceptable English so I am looking forward to my included breakfast. No doubt I can blog about that one.

So this will be the first leg of my journey – mostly by motorway and toll road (I will share the actual route later when I’ve decided) – Nottingham to Folkestone, train to Calais then Calais to Troyes!

A long run but it’s well on the way to the south where the sun and the mountains call!

Don’t Buy It #5: Air bnb from non-super hosts

Howzit. My deep deep dive into places to stay in France has shown me an underworld of depravity with cage fighters thinly disguised as hosts.

Always check your reviews hey? And be very clear about your special needs. And whatever you do do not say you like visiting the back alleys.

My most worst time was in what I thought was a nice funky and humorous basement room but it turned out to be a fungeon. The host became very agitated and more than once offered me his fists.

Top tip: if the host has his picture up, check it out. Judge that book by its fekkin cover man… If I’d checked this guy first I would have been a little suspicious… 20170108_154324

An Officer and a Gentleman, Izit

I promised in an earlier blog (top rated man, many followers) that I would tell you more about my Technical Adviser: the very upstanding Captain Bernie Winters. This is him:

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Don’t let that military bearing fool you – he’s soft like a puppy man. Lekker.

Anyhow, this guy goes all over the shop on a Triumph Bonneville with a side car! Crazy man. Three wheels means he can enter icy winter rallies and make skid marks willy nilly – must be a military thing.

Well, I gave him black coffee and he unloaded on me. He gave me the benefit of his experience and I lapped it up, making great sounds of encouragement as well as copious notes for later enjoyment! I tell you I was exhausted by the time he’d finished with me but man it was well worth it. I’d do it again. Maybe two more times.

I won’t go into every detail but here are some of my most favourite bits:

  • Solo riding (less common in the military apparently, but that’s what I’ll be doing) can be a bit freaky at first but after a day or you can really settle into your stride and relax. He didn’t actually say “akuna matata” but I’m pretty sure he was thinking it.
  • Set goals: this is really about have specific places in mind as destinations before hand to really make sure you make good progress. Specifically, and I think this is a really brilliant tip, find places that people will recognise when you get back. That way, when your pal says “where’d you go?” you can say more than “well I went down some really twisty lovely roads and that in France like”. No – that would be rubbish. In fact he even showed me some great goals to go for:
    • Agincourt  – well, we’re English and going to France. Brilliant. It’s really close to Calais.
    • Bayeux – the tapestry/rug. Well, we’re English and going to France!
    • The tomb of Richard the Lionheart! Now that is exciting and being English and in France it would definitely be uplifting.
    • The Millau bridge…. look it up man, amazing!
    • And the Pont du Gard – the Millau bridge of the Romans….
    • Then I added a couple of my own:6136981072_7000e91d98_b
      • Turin – the Fiat factory roof car track where dear departed Michael Caine in his Mini Cooper outsmarted the Italian coppers. I love the old Italian Job film – well, I’m English and by then I will be in Italy!
      • Of course, Bernie added that the Turin Shroud is also kept here, coincidence eh?
      • Carcassonne would be good to see again (I’ve been there before and my wife watched me enjoy a large pork sausage with beans. Cassoulet I think it’s called. mmmmm. Well, when in France…
      • The Alps – of course. Going to Turin I could return via the Alps but get there via…
      • The French Riviera coast road! A bit of Nice, Cannes, St Tropez and that. And I discovered that there’s a thing called:
      • The Napoleon Route. Nothing to do with triple flavoured ice cream (you’re thinking of Metropolitan), this is the famous return route for Nappy when he landed near Cannes and rode up to Grenoble on elephants I think.
      • I would also like to poke around the WWI sites up in the North; maybe some Normandy landing beaches too.
    • All the above are exciting but not everyone can be a winner.
  • Evening Routine: this I liked. He said find a pub in the evening, get yourself a beer and lay your maps out and plan or review your route and goals for the following day; scout around on the internet and book your next place to stay. Do this every night. The French might take an interest and talk to you – but he told me not to let that put me off.
  • Kit: he gave me loads of great ideas for the stuff I should have with me; to build a check list and most importantly to lay it all out when I’ve got it and take a picture of it. I’ll do that and share it with you, dear reader, later. Really great kit items that I wouldn’t have thought of:
    • A steel security net that goes over your big sack. Well I will be in France.
    • Teeny-tiny petrol cans. Reminds me of Optimus Prime’s balls.

Anyway, suffice to say that Captain Winters delivered a service above and beyond the call of duty. He is much more than an officer.

 

 

Looking for the possible

Craft and Origami

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My search for what might be possible started in earnest after I bought my European Road Atlas and got mediaeval on its ass.

Twenty-plus pages came out and a couple of hours with a glue stick, application of tape and careful alignments gave me a campaign map worthy of my first technical adviser: Captain Bernie Winters (more on his contribution later). His military bearing visibly stiffened when he saw it.

I stapled it to my office wall in direct violation of The Man and there it calls to me. It mainly says,  “I am huge”. France is typically unhelpful in its vastness and ability to get in the way of Italy. If it was known for getting in the way of other countries e.g. Germany then I could be more forgiving.

My fortitude was bolstered when I found a box of fat headed map pins and the first went straight in to mark Calais. Specifically the Eurotunnel exit: the sphincter of Britain.img_20170303_1245492

This also gave me the physical evidence required to make real the booking: outward train on the 4th April 2017.

Look out France, here I come.

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