Ok so it has finally started to get cold and yes the snow is really on its way.

The gritters are not gritting, the government has offered 3.5p off heating for the elderly meaning that this year they’ll only lose half a finger to frostbite, and most importantly, newsagents have stopped stocking Magnum ice creams.

What do we do now – other than wait for the effects of hyperthermia to take control of our bodily functions?

We could have some fun of course by picking up the frozen dog poo, put it in a paper bag and set light to it like they do in America.

We could of course turn off the fridge and put all the food outside thus saving ourselves a considerable sum of money in not using the electricity (in the hope that the foxes are not seen dining out on my five star gourmet baked beans).

There is also the option of building an igloo in the back garden and sleeping in it overnight whilst attempting to harpoon the next door neighbour’s mother-in-law who we have mistaken for a walrus after drinking just a tad too much absinthe.

What we really want is to go somewhere warm, where the beaches are the colour of David Gower’s hair and all the women look like they have just walked off the set of 90210 (the original series not the new one populated by anorexic Californian wannabees).

We want to sip all-inclusive local beverages from hollowed coconut shells (not recommended for coffee or tea use of course) whilst cracking a few lobster shells with our dentures over a game of strip Scrabble.

We want to laugh over the CNN news that London is gridlocked and panicky over the 0.13cms of snow that has fallen overnight, that Starbucks has run our of chocomoccotoffeechinos and is forcing everyone to snack on ginger nuts dunked in frothy Horlicks, and that one of Katie Price’s boobs has frozen solid and is being used by the Great Britain bobsleigh team for practice in time for the Solzhy Winter Olympics.

With Christmas less than 340 days away, it is time to stock up on Quality Street and wrapping paper, snuggle up next to the roaring log fire that was once the Primark in the High Street and plan our summer holidays.

Will there be another volcanic eruption paralysing air traffic controllers and stopping Justin Bieber from flying in to his sell out tour of playgroups in Aberdeen?

Perhaps the cost of cruising will explode due to the high cost of refitting all the ships with glass bottoms so that passengers can wave to the helicopters. There might even be – yes I know it is amazing – a summer drought leaving the great British countryside a tinderbox awaiting a match and a cheap packet of bbqing sausages.

But we have the solution. A full-proof, cost effective way to get to Europe, through Europe and home again with the cheapest cigarettes money can buy outside of that Romanian bloke who came to fix my guttering (£1.60 a packet and all legit guvnor).

A Duckar Rally rally to one of Europe’s hotspots – wow – driving a car of your choice (as long as it conforms to our rigorous and unflinching standards), staying in almost 5-star accomodation or a tent whichever is the most luxurious, and meeting some likeminded indiciduals such as yourselves all looking for fun without having to sell a kidney.

Sign up today – well perhaps tomorrow or on Sunday – before we run out of spaces.

Most importantly, if you are one of the first twenty, we’ll pay for your ticket. That’s a saving of £250 before you’ve even started. Bring a camera, bring a friend, bring some clean undies and a sense of humour. Bring a sat nav, bring a cd player and let’s go.

Armando and I await your presence in Calais (although we are currently in an undisclosed location playing Uno with Simon Cowell and Lord Sugar for the rights to snog the latest Sugarbabe).

Lots of love…..

Greenie

Well, it’s official.

Last week I won the EuroMillions Lottery – or to be precise I won £9.30.

This is almost the miracle I was looking for all those years ago when I first crossed those numbers off the Lottery sheet.

As I see it, my 601 weeks of investment have finally been vindicated.

What is it about the lottery that gets everyone so excited – EVERY week!

Whether we talk about it, whether we dream about it – indeed whether we actually buy a ticket – the concept of becoming a millionaire (even though it doesn’t buy quite as much as it used to) is as much an excitement and aspiration as it ever was.

Yet what is it that we are buying into?

Every time we enter the lottery we have a 1 in 13,983,816 chance of winning. Not bad odds if you can fill out all the forms, find someone to post them and of course you have the odd £14 million hanging around.

I don’t but still place my bet and go to sleep on Friday night expecting to wake up around a handful of million Euros wealthier than the night before. Of course, once this has not happened there is always Saturday’s draw…..which of course carries the same result. Except last week when we made it BIG with that beautiful, bountiful, if somewhat minuscule, victory.

What we love is the aspirations towards being rich. Lest we forget, as soon as we do become rich we tell everyone that money doesn’t buy happiness, and of course it won’t change our lives. We will of course turn up on Monday to continue our mundane job.

So, what does this all have to do with travel and banger rallies. Of course it will make taking more time out for travel much more palatable. Perhaps arranging your own banger rally for family and friends might be possible – running one for your favourite charity perhaps.

Let us be realistic – if you won several million I suspect you might decide on a lifetime subscription to the Caribbean and Club Med. Perhaps a couple of weekends shopping in New York, etc.

Well, good luck to you. But what a trip you will be missing out on! Just think of the experience of rubbing shoulders with us poor people (not including myself as I won last week). Some of the drives in some of the world’s worst remaining cars on the roads will make you smile – just as they did when we first drove them specifically for you.

So, just to be clear on this – if you don’t win the lottery this week, think about the fun you could be having on one of our rallies – for a similar investment. If of course you do win the lottery, I would also urge you to think about us at Duckar – either make a small donation to help pay the mortgage, or show your friends what a generous person you are by taking them on a bespoke driving holiday through Europe (we do also have a course available in the USA and in India but that is for another blog).

Remember that you have to be in it to win it so the first step is to buy a ticket – buy one with Duckar and make your money go for miles further (approx. 2,000 over each trip).

Strange title I know but if I was Catholic this would be in part a confession.

The blog I write below is in fact a sort of re-creation of the next stage of our tour – from notes. We did it but I have to be honest and say it happened a while back and I have been waylaid with other chores since my return so I have now the benefit of hindsight and Wikipaedia to assist me.

Nevertheless, I continue the great journey forthwith – and of course for your delectation and consideration.

Day 5 – Ljubljana to Budapest.

You may think I am obsessed with the temperature but living in the UK anything over 25C is a heatwave of epic proportion.

So when we wake up to 28C I think you will find it is a very British obsession of one-upmanship.

My weather is better than yours – and of course so is my penis but perhaps we should take this preoccupation no further. Anyhow the weather was outrageously good – not a cloud in the sky and with humidity at over 32% – with a chance of hot moving into fucking hot with a good possibility of sticky – mmmm!

So out of Ljubljana and ahead to Maribor – home of the chewy sweets.

We approach the start of the Alps and pass close by to the source of the Amazon – the Slovenians of course keep it very quiet otherwise they would have to share the gold they mine from the shafts under the Mercedes and KIA dealerships on Tito Ceska (in consortium with the Aztec Herzegovinians).

Stopping for diesel at the Hip Hop Armando checks the oil again for signs of balsamic vinegar – we used some on the tomatoes last night and he fears some transferral may have taken place.

With Cestminas every few kilometres the vijneta earns its keep.

Once again – have I said this before? – Slovenia is verdant and so well maintained. Is it a slight fallback to the days of Communism – a little bit of governmental fear never hurt anyone did it?

Well at least it seems to have worked well here. Perhaps we in the UK could learn a thing or two from these crazee Slovenes…..encourage the unemployed into public works; get some pride back onto the streets. Roads are funded by the EU and are well maintained.

Laybys are pristine.

Little villages pass by, perched on hills a la Switzerland. Cute churches (is that going to get me excommunicated by calling them cute?), spires covered in gold with crosses clearly visible from the road. Prime timber lines the hills that rise up on either side.

Around 20 miles of tunnels lay ahead as one leads to another and then another – a perfect scene from any great disaster movie – but it does give some respite from the constant sun, and of course it plays havoc with the Reactolite lenses in my glasses!

The road itself is a dream to drive – not dissimilar to a piece of road from Jerusalem down to Latrun interchange. Don’t bomb it – which of course you won’t as the car you are in is likely to be a pre-cherished work of rust. Savour each work of modern engineering as you reappear at the light from the end of the tunnel – imagine you are in a Discovery Channel documentary narrated by Chris Barrie or Steven Fry. Watch the rerun on Dave just before Sexcetera or Top Gear.

As we pass by the now ever increasing acreage of woodland I cannot help thinking how easy it would be to dispose of a body. This is of course not the first time I have voiced this question and Armando shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Well it is good to keep him on his toes!

We drive past Rimske Toplice – a thermal spa town dating back to the Romans occupation of the area – although the thermals have been soothing the bunions of OAP Slovenian corvas for much longer.We are now in a strange area of multi-national vegetation – trees from Canada, Japan California and apparently Basingstoke!

The Romans enjoyed the benefits and healing power on the right bank of the Savinja River where there are still thermal springs under Stražnik (655 m), rising from triassic dolomite rock cracks in Rimske Toplice (these cracks refer to rocks and not corva anatomy). Monuments and sacrificial altars devoted to goddesses and nymphs as thanksgiving for the convalescence of ancient guests, found between 1769 and 1845, provide evidence of this. There are ancient cemeteries and a necropolis all signposted and well worth a visit if you find the time. From the road you do not completely realise the extent and beauty within one kilometre of the road but I tell you it now so you don’rt miss it.

The spas are first mentioned in written documents dating to 1486, the Aquilea Document. The spas were owned by Habsburgs for 30 years and then by the Counts of Celje (1456) together with the Laško Estate. Through history the baths owners changed numerous times. The first turnabout in the spa’s history was in 1840, when the former wholesale merchant from Trieste Gustav Adolf Uhlich bought the spas in the name of his wife Amalia because he was healed with the healing power of the thermal water there. This was when what had been a modest health resort was turned into the modern spas and given the name Rimske Toplice (‘Roman Spas’).

For the needs of the spa, two large wells were regulated and named Amalia’s Spring (38.4 °C) and Roman Spring (36.3 °C). When the Sophia Manor was built, the number of rooms increased from 38 to over 200. On the even plateau with a chestnut tree promenade there was a Spa Church on one side and an Orchestra Pavilion on the other side. In the afternoon the orchestra played out in the open, on evenings in the Spa salon – apparently in their Speedos. There was a billiard room, a tennis court in a nearby wood and on a steep meadow a roofed bowling alley. Because the Vienna–Trieste railroad passed Rimske Toplice after 1848; more guests visited the place, mainly the hoi-poloi from Trieste, Hungary, Zagreb, or even the United States.

The British princess and Prussian heiress Victoria (daughter of Queen Victoria and Robbie Williams), stayed in Rimske Toplice in 1879, and many distinguished guests had the habit of planting exotic trees in the spa’s park, so even nowadays you can see huge sequoias, Canadian hemlocks, Japanese hloes, cypresses, Californian cedars, Basingstoke willows and other interesting species.

Russian prisoners of war built a 2 km promenade through the forest (The Roman Path) during the First World War. During the Second World War the Spa was occupied by wounded German soldiers, then after 1945 the Yugoslav Peoples’ Army used the spa for healing and rehabilitation of its soldiers.

The spas have never been fully utilized by common Slovenian people – but Duckie Ralliers are specifically welcomed. Although the Uhlich Family were good masters and turned the humble bath into spas of world reputation, they dominating over the local population. Also when Yugoslav Peoples’ Army managed the spas, they were more or less inaccessible to the local people.

From 1991 onwards, after the Yugoslav Peoples’ Army left, attempts were made to revive Rimske Toplice. Finally, on 17 November 2005 the thermal spas once again opened their doors to guests, with the Medical Rehabilitation Centre aiding the revival of the town’s fortunes. Either way it is worth a visit.

The aroma of the countryside permeates the car as we pass supper several times. Cows think they are so clever pooing standing up – not so clever when they are served up with a side of pommes frites and a nice side salad which I will leave. Apologies to the veggie readers but as a die-in-the-wool carnivore I can’t help it – even Armando looks appetising at 6.45pm when we still have 200km to go (because I have insisted on visiting the thermal spas) and only one piece of chewing gum left between the two of us.

Soon we pass by signs for Celje where Bojan Šrot is the Mayor.

Celje is the third largest town in Slovenia. It is a regional centre of Lower Styria and the administrative seat of the Urban Municipality of Celje (Slovene: Mestna občina Celje). The town of Celje is located under Upper Celje Castle (407 m) at the confluence of the Savinja, Ložnica, and Voglajna rivers in the lower Savinja Valley. It lies 241 m above mean sea level (MSL). Now you can find it on your TomasTomas although you can’t miss it as you drive along the main motorway. It is a very pretty town – there is a great little cathedral and a monastery. Not a lot of shopping unless you like to take some serious pates and pies with you on the journey. We did not see any Lidls but they must be hiding behind a tree somewhere.

The discussion moves on in the car to where it usually does at this time of the day – flatulence. In actuality we discuss the relative merits of public farting and of course passing the buck.

We move smoothly onto “funniest scene in a movie”. Armando loves the bit in “National Lampoon’s Summer Vacation” when Chevy and his family finally get to the Walley World theme park only to find it closed – alongside a dead spiteful Aunt Edna. He loves the bit where they go off road and land in the middle of the Grand Canyon. Watch it at your peril!

My favourite scene is the chest wax in the “40 year old Virgin”. Armando has not seen it so I describe it as best I can. We laugh until a little pee comes out.

The roads are handled perfectly by the KIA and we pass many new cars and not a lot of old cars. One car that does get past us is a pristine red Aston Martin DB6 (right hand drive) bombing it until he gets held up by a Clarkson special. Yes two (TWO) Dutch caravans driving side by side and blocking the road for all who want to drive over 70kmh. Both drivers are puffing on a pipe and have impressive beards but seriously, what are they doing trying to overtake like that?

Finally we overtake and the DB6 disappears towards Maribor Centre. We continue past the Hotel Kacar – famous for its open-air colonic irrigation, and of course its roses, and then plough onwards past the sewage processing plant and the methane repository.

Maribor is is the second largest city in Slovenia with 106,308 inhabitants as of 2008. The city lies on the river Drava at the meeting point of the Pohorje mountain, the Drava Valley, the Drava Plain, and the Kozjak and Slovenske Gorice hill ranges. Maribor’s coat of arms features a white dove flying downwards above a white castle with two towers and a portcullis on a red shield. Now you can recognise it if you are confronted by a coat of arms in a pub quiz.

Popular tourist sites in Maribor include the 12th century Gothic-style cathedral and the town hall constructed in the Renaissance fashion. The castle dates from the 15th century. Not exactly a rave town but pretty nonetheless.

There is the University of Maribor, established in 1975, and the oldest grapevine in the world, called Stara trta, which is more than 400 years old. Once you have visited these things it should be time to get back in the car – it should be possible to complete the tour in around 67minutes.

Maribor is also home to NK Maribor, who participated in the UEFA Champions League in the 1999-2000 season.

(For all the Scots I will definitely NOT mention Hibs being beaten on 5 August by Maribor – if you do not want to know the score please look away now….6-2 on aggregate)

If you are lucky to be in Maribor during the skiing season then visit the skiing centre of Mariborsko Pohorje, situated on the outskirts of the city on the slopes of the Pohorje mountain range, which hosts women’s slalom and giant slalom races for the Alpine Skiing World Cup known as Zlata lisica (The Golden Fox) every January.

Every June, the two-week Festival Lent (named after the waterfront district called Lent) is held, with hundreds of musical, theatrical and other events.

Maribor was chosen as European Capital of Culture 2012 alongside with Guimarães, Portugal. Maribor will be the host city of the 2013 Winter Universiade. Now you know everything about Maribor so try to visit if you can find the time.

We didn’t this time but have been before so I like to spread the joy forthwith.

Soon we see signs for Budapest as we enter another set of tunnels through the Maribor Alps. We hit the A5 – passing the Cerkvenjak Muck Spreading Festival. We decide not to stop and take part as it looks a little shitty.

The A5 has a 110kmh speed limit whilst the other main roads have a 130kmh limit. This of course does not stop Armando taking us to 142kmh all the way. We pass a whole series of Dutch and Belgian caravans – these guys get everywhere!

At just around 60km outside of Budapest we take a sightseeing detour to Lake Balaton. This is in the Transdanubian region of Hungary, is the largest lake in Central Europe, and one of its foremost tourist destinations. As Hungary is landlocked, it is often affectionately called the “Hungarian Sea”. The Zala River provides the largest inflow of water to the lake, and the canalized Sió is the only outflow. Hungary has a population of only 10 million and it sometimes feels like everyone is by the lake.

Today it is very hot and tons and tons of Hungarian flesh is on show – some appetizing and some NOT. We drive around the whole lakeside – we are looking for different venues for our Duckiefest – and we pass through the major resorts around the lake (Siófok, Keszthely and Balatonfüred). Siófok is known as the “Party Capital of Hungary”, and attracts many young party goers in summer due to its numerous large clubs. Keszthely is the site of the famous Festetics Palace and Balatonfüred is a historical bathing town home to the annual Anna Ball.

The average water temperature during the summer is 25°C, which makes bathing and swimming possible. Most of the beaches consist of either grass, rocks or the silty sand that also makes up most of the bottom of the lake. Many resorts have artificial sandy beaches and all beaches have step access to the water. Other tourist attractions include sailing, fishing and other water sports, as well as visiting the countryside and hills; wineries on the north coast and night life on the south shore. The Tihany Peninsula is an historical district. Badacsony is a famous volcanic mountain and wine growing region as well as a lakeside resort. The lake is almost completely surrounded by bike lanes so there are hundreds of scantily clad bikers circling the lake – contributing to the water levels with their profuse sweating.

Although the peak season at the lake is the summer, Balaton is also popular during the winter, when visitors go ice-fishing or even skate, sledge or ice-sail on the lake, if it freezes over.

Balaton was served by Sármellék International Airport until 2009 when Ryan Air pulled out. However, the airport is still manned by a full staff and although a little overgrown, still looks like it is waiting for the next flight to arrive. Perhaps no-one told them about the change in schedules.

Driving through village after village , the supermarkets and goulash restaurants fly past – the only thing I cannot see is the lake! Finally, as we round the bottom of the lake, water starts to show itself and we climb for a view of the whitish water and the thousands of people swimming in the waters (urine city). Speedos at full stretch show a little bit more to us than they should but soon we stop for lunch at a beautiful little restaurant for some catfish and chips. As Armando has told me to lose a stone in 3 weeks or he’ll sleep with my wife and move in with Mum, I leave the chips to him and sup on some sparkling mineral water from the lake. Don’t ask what makes it fizzy! Armando felt a little guilty so forwent his usual Magnum Maximum.

Back on the road we start moving back into tourist territory – passing a museum, an old church and a motorbike collection. Soon we get messages from TomasTomas that we need to get a ferry. For some reason it consistently allows us to find the ferries of the country and sure enough here we are again, boarding a ferry bound for the pother side of the Lake and of course Budapest. Cost Ft2450 (although the woman did not acknowledge an change to be given for the Ft3000 proferred by Armando!) – time of crossing – 6 minutes. We meet a couple of guys who want to put on a mobile poker tournament so we will start thinking about that.

Soon we are back on the M7 heading into Budapest and a meeting with Lazlo. Mickey has apparently had a small operation on his hand so is in Vienna but Lazlo can’t wait to see us. It is now 36C and finally we get onto the main road into Budapest. It has been a long day and despite a couple of wrong turns we are soon on the right road to Szetendre and the Pen Factory (and of course the car museum). When you make the journey, look out for the old Routemaster bus outside of the MacDonalds. It is really incongruous.

At the factory gates we pull up, get out and wait for Lazlo to arrive.

He is really excited to see us and immediately lays out some plans for us to “waste” the weekend (I add here that this is “waste” in the best and most positive way possible!).

First a quick mooch around the various outbuildings filled with Mickey’s collection. I have attached a few pics and more to come.

We then get to see Lazlo’s passion – classic car racing.

He is constructing a Lancia Fulvia which will be stupendous when it is ready for the racing season (which is very big in Hungary) in September / October.

His mechanic Ferenc is a miracle worker and will have built a car which will make Lazlo and his co-driver Petr, very competitive. The yard was guarded by a dachshund called Walter who took a shine to Armando’s leg.

We end the day at our favourite spa hotel on the banks of the Danube (E100 for the two of us – including dinner and breakfast – and all the mosquitoes you can accommodate!). Tomorrow will be special but more of that later.

And so to sleep once more – dreaming of being a bum cushion for Sophia Loren, resplendent in her Rolls Royce!

Ok – so today we head for what can only be described as our next planned stop.

This is the last part of the Duck & Droollie – Mirabilandia in Ravenna. After this we plan to make a cross country drive to sleep over in Ljubljana, Slovenia.

In the words of my favourite philosopher – Bill (or was it Ted) – “awesome”.

The balmy weather continues as we bask in Italy’s 30+ heatwave. As we depart the hotel dead on 09:17, a red panda (old style) loaded to the gunnels with fruit and veg scrapes past us at some neck-breaking speed – Ferrari red of course!

The day off from new-style rollercoastering has focused my mind on a number of important issues:
1. I need to start medications earlier in the day to avoid any nasty “spillages” either before, during or after rides
2. I need to find rides that attract the kind of G-Force a man like me can handle. This means less MiG and more Tesco shopping trolley.

I somehow fear I will be unlikely to fulfill either in Ravenna (especially as I left my meds in the Happy Eater just outside Chur in Switzerland).

Being of soundish mind, Armando has agreed to take first dibs on the Autostrada. We finally meet our first toll of the tour (I am of course not counting the Dartford Crossing – but if you don’t let me then this is technically the second toll). It is always fun when the ticket machine is on the wrong side of the car – I lean out showing far too much cleavage. The driver behind us – a particularly buxom Italian lady (without heavy upper lip hair) finds it amusing but Armando seems to be peeved that I am getting the attention and speeds off.

We settle into an easy silence as I write up my notes. A22 – Modena 230km.

Last night was a continuation of the Black Hole of Calcutta remake. It appears that during the night someone stole into our room and poured a large bucket of salty water over us. Despite the feeble efforts of the air conditioning we still awoke hotter than a frothy cappucino – but without the tasty little Amaretto biscuit for company.

All this melts away as the KIA’s air con blows ice cold air over our exposed midriffs.

Armando begins his usual radio ritual of flicking until something we both hate comes on. Currently Kenny Rogers appears to duetting with Julio Inglesias and Baccara. A lady DJ cuts through the melody and introduces another Italian lady. Have you ever noticed how sexy and romantic the Italian language is? It seems that whatever they say you can be seduced – in this case it turns out they are debating the relative merits of tampons versus panty-pads. I rest my case.

09:34 and the outside temperature hits 34 as we bisect the Dolomites and the Massif Trento mountain ranges. I’ll try not to bore you with my O’level geography but thanks to Mr Lewis and Mr Chapman (Old Gowers will be aware of the names) I am able to verify fluvio-glacial erosion and glacial / tectonic movements in my sleep. Apparently the range includes more than 40 glaciers and was discovered and named by Déodat Gratet de Dolomieu – although how someone so small could be said to have named something so big is beyond me. Apparently his research partner Honore de Bollox was first in line to have the “pale mountains” named after him but it was not thought appropriate by their Austrian sponsor Baron von Wangker!

Soon the Italian coffee starts to take effect and we are both pinging around the cockpit of the KIA. Werther wrappers fly to all corners as we pass signs for Modena. We see a big screw up outside the Vipa Factory on the outskirts of the city (look it up when you next drive past and you’ll understand what I mean), and soon it is on to Ravenna and of course Mirabilandia.

The approach is not auspicious. The road in looks deserted although the signposting is excellant from around 20 miles out. As we approach the weather takes a turn for the worse – yes boys and girls it hits 38C! There is a sort of London Eye type of contraption in the distance which is not moving. We think that the park is closed – our hearts sink (although my stomach soars with elation at the thought of not having to go on the rides).

As we get closer things appear slightly different. We can hear the laughter, cheering and downright fear as the Park most definately is open. It is not quite the size of EuropaPark but what it lacks in size it more than makes up for in ferocity. There are seven – yes SEVEN – rollercoasters in the Park. The most ferocious of which is probably the i-Speed which goes at over 120kmh and accelerates faster than a Bugatti Veyron on nitrous. Of course the Katun is possibly “worse” in that it travels for over 1.2km at speeds in excess of 100kmh and is inverted. To explain any more will inevitably force up what meagre food has passed my lips since the experience but suffice to say you won’t be too hungry afterwards. There are also two drop rides which I admit I wouldn’t do even though Armando took the pee out of me for the rest of the day but every man has his limits.

Sad to say that due to the heat the second largest ferris wheel in Europe was not working but there was still so much to do that I hardly noticed.

Also, the heat and my real sense of hatred for rollercoasters that turn me upside down, I sampled the three water rides first.

Niagara was AMAZING – sit in the front and just get WET.

The Rio Bravo is a sort of rubber ring adventure through the rapis and Autosplash is a great ride for the kid in you. Either way, at 38+C it was nice to get wet. Armando promised to take pics but when I got off the rides he was always eating an ice-cream and that meant the camera was still in its bag. Nevertheless, I urge you to look at the website and try not to faint from the videos.

The other thing that Mirabilandia has is a water park or beach. After all the rollercoasters it was great to kick back on the beach where all the beautiful people were. Luckily I had my Speedos on so we were able to scare enough space to nestle down for an afternoon of pure enjoyment. This then turned into around 37 minutes as we decided to drive to Ljubljana rather than stay on the Riviera.

Here are some of the scared sh**less fools on the rollercoaster / terror tower – pics from outside the park….wish you could hear the screams of course!

We quickly packed up our belongings and exited as the inner child finally stopped sobbing and merely lay in a corner moaning softly to itself that it was all finally over.

Day 4.5 – The Journey Home
We now move to what I fondly refer to as Day 4.5; this was about how to get home. What route would be most fortuitous now that we had decided Rome was out (for reasons too long to explain here but involving two nurses, a ball of string, a wad of cotton wool and two separate halves of a donkey) – perhaps we could take in some time in Budapest?

Why not? This would of course mean a stop off in our favourite EU Country – Slovenia. More to the point, as we decided so didst I book the Austria Trend in Ljubljana. What a great hotel!

The drive was around 475km but what breathtaking countryside – past Bologna, Venice and Trieste (which was the centre of the irredentist movement – always good for a laugh at school with thoughts of Sir Laurence Olivier bent over Dustin Hoffman shouting “Is it Italian?”. For the record irredentists believed that all Italian speaking territory should belong to Italy and should therefore be annexed. It was a popular movement amongst the Mussolini families).

Driving into Slovenia is like a breath of fresh air – albeit very hot fresh air. The country joined the EU in 2004 having finally shaken off the Tito Communist Party in 1990. It is a very pretty country full of clever people who realised that to use EU money wisely meant to use it on good infrastructure. Roads are great and the vignette system works well. Pay at the border and all the roads are free.

We wax lyrical about how Slovenia “compares” to Poland for the best part of 200 miles and suddenly find ourselves in Ljubljana and the Austria Trend Hotel. This is the first hotel with decent air con and we make use of the shower to freshen up before hitting the old town for some food. We even get the same room we had last time – 616 so you can avoid it- and because we went through Booking.com we saved ourselves €25 on the rack rate!

Our beautiful taxi driver pulls up and takes us to the Three Bridges area of the old town. It is really buzzing.

Despite the appearance of large buildings, especially at the city’s edge, Ljubljana’s historic centre remains intact; there is a strong Austrian influence which makes it look a bit like Graz and Salzburg.

The old city is made up of two districts: one includes Ljubljana town hall and the other, the neighbourhood of the Chevaliers de la Croix, features the Ursuline church, the philharmonic society building (1702) and the Cankar Hall. We have visited all this and if you have the time you should see it also.

After the 1511 earthquake, Ljubljana was rebuilt for the first time; after the 1895 quake, which severely damaged the city, it was once again rebuilt. The city’s architecture is thus a mix of styles – some buildings survived, some were rebuilt whilst others just repaired. The large sectors built after the World War II often include a personal touch by the Slovene architect Jože Plečnik. Once seen never forgotten – and this can be seen in many other Slovene cities.

Ljubljana Castle dominates the hill over the river Ljubljanica. Built in the 12th century, the castle (like the castle at Kranj) was a residence of the Margraves, later the Dukes of Carniola – they also were a particularly nice bunch of people whose hobbies included flower arranging, jam production, light opera and defenestration. Aside from the castle, the city’s main architectural works are St. Nicholas Cathedral, St. Peter’s Church, the Franciscan Church of the Annunciation, the Triple Bridge and the Dragon Bridge – also known as the Mother-in-Law bridge for obvious reasons.

We settled for supper in this Three Bridges area of the city – safe in the knowledge that the kindly Slovenian mosquitoes would be more interested in the pregnant woman sitting next to us than in us. We looked for a Slovenian restaurant – thankfully there are a lot of them. Don’t be tempted into a kebab (although they are good) but try something traditional. Both meat and fish are excellent here – and whilst there is no specific Slovene national cuisine, each region has its own style. Meat is predominant and the national sausage of Slovenia is Kranjska klobasa. Soups are a relatively recent invention in Slovenian cuisine, but there are over 100 – goulash is often served and is better here than in Hungary.

Earlier there were various kinds of porridge, stew and one-pot meals, and these can still be found in some restaurants and down the shirts of various friendly drunks in the city. The most common meat soups are beef and chicken soup. Meat-based soups are served only on Sundays and feast days (so don’t order them unless you want to look like a tourist); more frequently in more prosperous country or city households. Honey was used to a considerable extent. Medenjaki, which come in different shapes are honey cakes, which are most commonly heart-shaped and are often used as gifts – they taste fantastic and go straight to the hips ladies / gents. Slovenian national dishes are Bujta repa, Ričet, Prekmurska gibanica, Jota, Mineštra, Pršut and Kranjska.

My suggestion is that it is usually best not to ask – although most restaurants in Ljubljana have menus in English with little explanations as to which part of which animal you are consuming – hence why it is sometimes best not to ask.

When you are not eating just sit back and watch the eye-candy go past. This refers not only to the men but the women as well. Everyone is catered for here let me tell you!

The evening was topped off – literally – by a scrumptious ice cream from one of the pavement vendors. It is really good ice cream and Armando had two balls. Needless to say some of his balls dripped onto his C&A linen trousers from Trier and as he had gone commando this evening he could not give it a surreptitious brush for fear of causing offence. Finally back to the hotel and a well earned rest.

Tomorrow we see our good mates Mickey and Lazlo – the pen kings of Hungary. Sleep Well……

Day 3 already and we are up and out having replanned the ThomThom from Freiburg to Bolzano via Bregenz and Chur.

This might not mean anything to you dear reader of this blog but to us it contains the vicinity of Holy Grails – the mountain pass. It is also a matter of pasta. Whilst some might look at it more in terms of Speck I have never discriminated on the basis of any person’s Speck preferences. Indeed how one deals with piggle products is between man and God.

Freiburg was quite special – a really quaint, well appointed city that was not too overly touristique. Loads of shopping and small waterways with kids paddling in the streets – jumpers for goalposts, etc.

Thankfully Mrs G does not read these blogs so I will not find myself parachuting in for the Converse she has been looking for since 2009 at the sport shop on the main drag. Just outside of Freiburg – capital of the Black Forest Gateaux – are signs of fluvio glacial erosion; drumlins, tarns and even some of the tell-tale moraines litter the panorama. To save you from rushing to Wikipaedia these are all hilly bits caused by glaciers and they are pretty cool.

The train line runs parallel to the road for much of the way but slowly climbs above the road’s altitude which is a sure sign we are entering the environs of the Alps. Kirchen stands line the laybys, vying for business with the Alpin corvas.

We drive along the mountain passes avoiding the Stelvio and the Gavia passes – we want to find something really different – a route of ups and downs that will show you what the people did for rollercoaster fun before the rollercoasters. The first part of the day is spent driving via Switzerland and then the second into Austria.

We hit a sun drenched glacial road populated by the Tour de France rejects and found ourselves supping hot chocolate at the top of the Flüela Pass – followed by another on the Lenzerheide ((el. 1549 m.) a high mountain pass in the Alps in the canton of Graubünden in Switzerland. It connects the valley of the Rhine and Chur and the valley of the Albula near Tiefencastel. The summit is between Valbella and Parpan, approximately 5 kilometers south of the resort of Lenzerheide. The pass road has a maximum grade of 11 percent and is open year-round, though road conditions frequently necessitate winter tires, especially between December and March. We enjoyed it as we had never driven it before – and with a serious amount of chocolate milk swimming around Armando needed an extra stop to vacate his bladder.

TomTom says for us to drive via Lake Constance or the Bodensee as the Allemaignisch like to say. Now further to numerous requests I have been asked to put some more factual information in the blog about what we have seen and visited so here goes…..

Lake Constance sits at the northern foot of the Alps, and consists of three bodies of water: the Obersee (“upper lake”), the Untersee (“lower lake”), and a connecting stretch of the Rhine, called the Seerhein. Are you still awake? I shall continue….

The lake is situated in Germany, Switzerland and Austria near the Alps. Specifically, the German states of Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg, the Austrian federal-state of Vorarlberg, and the Swiss cantons of Thurgau and St. Gallen. The Rhine flows into it from the south following the Austro-Swiss frontier. It is approximately located at 47°39′N 9°19′E. This information is useful if you are lost and desperately need co-ordinates to get your mother-in-law to pick you up (or if you need to lose her this might also work).

Lake Constance was first mentioned by the Roman geographer Pomponius Mela (in his top-selling book “There’s Something About Constance” which was a follow-up to the smash-hit “Is that a Toga or are you Just Pissed to See Me”) about AD 43. Pliny the Elder (his brother Pliny the Not so Elder and his sister Pliness the Zitty were also on the road trip but his report did not include them because they were in MacDonaldvs at the time) used the name Lacus Brigantinus, after the Roman city of Brigantium (today Bregenz). The lake is also colloquially known as the Swabian Sea (das schwäbische Meer) which just rolls off the tongue. The modern name is taken from the nearby town of Bodman – all of which does not explain Constance.

(thanks to MarleneK for the pic as I was driving and had no camera action at the time)

The freshwater lake sits at 395 m above sea level and is Central Europe’s third largest, after Lake Balaton (been there) and Lake Geneva (been there also – but it is not quite as cool as Balaton). It is 63 km long, and at its widest point, nearly 14 km – not so good for swimming but at a depth is 252 m in the middle of the eastern part (Obersee) you could really lose a body without too much effort (apparently). Its volume is approximately 55 km³ – if you are particularly thirsty. The Rhine flows into the lake in the southeast, through the Obersee, the city of Konstanz and the Untersee and flows out near Stein am Rhein. Lake Constance (written differently from Konstanz – who would have guessed?) provides fresh water to many cities in south Germany.

According to Wikipedia, Lake Constance was formed by the Rhine Glacier during the ice age – and who am I to question this opinion? The Rhine, the Bregenzer Ache, and the Dornbirner Ache carry sediments from the Alps to the lake, thus gradually decreasing the depth of the lake in the southeast.

The lake was frozen in the years 1077 (?), 1326 (partial), 1378 (partial), 1435, 1465 (partial), 1477 (partial), 1491 (partial?), 1517 (partial), 1571 (partial), 1573, 1600 (partial), 1684, 1695, 1709 (partial), 1795, 1830, 1880 (partial), and 1963. So if this was a maths GCSE I would now be asking you what is the next number in the series. If you know it please do tell so we can set up an ice-skating franchise at the lake-shore.

Approximately 1000 tons of fish were caught by 150 professional fishermen in 2001 which was below the previous ten year average of 1200 tons per year – so if you hate fish this could be a good thing; for some reason I could not find any other figures for later years but hopefully you will forgive me for this. The Lake Constance trout (Salmo trutta) was almost extinct in the 1980s due to pollution, but thanks to protective measures has made a significant return. So eat up – although the nuclear pollution that almost wiped the trout out did make it rather significantly larger and of course it comes freshly boiled from the lake itself.

The lake is an important drinking water source for southwestern Germany, called Bodenseewasserversorgung, which of course is just silly isn’t it?

No word that can be written the standard alphabet should be bigger than the bonus round on Countdown – give me a “Hell Yeah!” if you agree….

Anyhow, hopefully that is enough about the Bodensee – you can’t see it properly from the road anyway so what the hey…..

You could of course also go via Zurich on the E41. Good luck – just keep the windows closed and avoid inhaling any of the grey air.

Back on the 81 with all the cool people – we come across road works. Never mind – just think that all the roads will be perfect by the time you make it to the start of the rally. At 56 miles leave the 81 and join the 98 to Friedrichshafen right up to the end of the road.

We are on the autobahn so Armando takes the KIA up to 134mph – Clarkson EAT YOUR BLACK HEART OUT!

I have suddenly forgotten where we are going to – any ideas? A whole whoop of surfers (the collective name for a herd of dudes) drives by in a VW Caravelle and soon we enter the Pfaendertunnel. There is a very funny German joke that is particularly well received in Bavaria. However it does not translate well so I shall not bother here. If you are lucky to catch Armando ask him as it was first told by his Great Grandfather’s first cousin twice removed.

The Pfaendertunnel bypasses Bregenz, the capital of Vorarlberg, the westernmost federal state of Austria. The city is located on the eastern shores of Lake Constance, the third-largest freshwater lake in Central Europe, between Switzerland in the west and Germany in the northwest (which I apparently told you about earlier).

The city is situated on a plateau falling in a series of terraces to the lake at the foot of Pfänder mountain. It is a junction of the arterial roads from the Rhine valley to the German Alpine foothills, with cruise ship services on Lake Constance.

Do you feel happy now – is there enough facts for you. I am starting to feel like Gloria Hunniford.

Bregenz is twinned with Bangor in Northern Ireland, and various exchange trips take place between the two places – aren’t they the lucky ones. Another twin town is Acre in Israel – which is actually quite nice and full of some very cool history; we will not be visiting this city any time soon as they have stopped the ferry to Haifa from Patras.

Bregenz is especially famous for the annual summer music festival Bregenzer Festspiele. This is like an Austrian version of the Edinburgh Festival without Rowan Atkinson – but yes, Eddie Izzard does perform here. They usually create some completely unbelievable set for an opera or Billy Connelly stand-up routine by the side of the lake – which WILL blow your mind if you see pics.

Once through the 6.2km tunnel we pick up our Austrian Vignette for a paltry €2 per day. We whizz through Austria and in the blink of slightly watering eye we pass into Italia.

We have chosen a hotel just outside of the city of Bolzano which is is a city and comune in the Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol region of Italy.

Bolzano is also the capital of the province of Bolzano-Bozen, also known as Südtirol in German, and in English as South Tyrol. Germans call it Bozen and Italians call it that Austrian town in the top of the country. The populace all would like to be Austrian but are just World War II’s fall guys.

The South Tyrol Museum of Archaeology in Bolzano/Bozen is where the ice mummy “Ötzi” is kept. We checked if this was the same as DJ Ötzi but he is apparently older and more frozen. You will notice the distinct resemblance between Ötzi and Armando – except of course for the suntan.

Bolzano is the seat of the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, where lectures and seminars held in German, Italian and English reflect the multilingual status of the region. I asked what “Free” meant but apparently it is just a ruse to get more people into the city. It is not free – just cheap.

In 2008 Bolzano was one of the locations, in the region Trentino-Alto Adige, where the seventh edition of the world renowned Manifesta, the European Biennial of Contemporary Art was held. If you weren’t there then you must be a fish in a leotard dancing a fandango.

The city is also the home of the Italian Army’s Alpini High Command (COMALP) and some of its combat and support units. High refers to their propensity to shmoke the weeeeeeed.

We head for our hotel – Premstaller – which is literally on the outskirts of the city. The hotel is set in a beautiful apple orchard which is bisected by the main line trainline to somewhere or other. We settle down for a few San Peligrinos and of course a plateful of pizza (Armando) and pasta (moi). What an evening – all topped off by a smallish stein of Limoncello. Wunderbar – or is it wunderbra. Either way it brings a smile to my face.

Tomorrow morning will see us headed for Ravenna and Mirabilandia.

You will not be disappointed.

Dormire bene il mio amico.

Left Calais in bright sunshine – well more like torrential rain but with sun. Luckily our friend Tracey was in the Club Lounge looking after us – she was on the boat the last few times we travelled. Not sure they even let her off the boat!

Thankfully Armando changed the windscreen wipers before we left London. We no longer have the annoying squeeking sound of rubber on glass that we inherited from the Kia dealership. We now however have an intriguing smudge blocking the drivers’ line of vision – courtesy of H*****ds.
10.32 Mrs Armando calls us to graphically describe her infected insect bites; enough to bring up the Farmhouse Breakfast cordially provided at a cost of £10 per baked bean by thecordon bleu Michelin starred chefs of P&O’s Greasy Spoon.

Armando seruptitiously changed the SatNav voice to TomasTomas the Rasta who from the off was insistant that our drive to Bruhl was to be via Bruges and Brussels. From bitter experience we knew not to take the road of tailbacks also known as the motorway to Brussels. We chose to go via Lille and of course the decision almost immediately backfired as the tailback preceded us to allow us to catch it just outside of Wormholt.

The rain of course was nothing if not consistant – wet and drippy – which was not helped by a variety of our “friends” calling and texting us that the UK was in the middle of its 2-day heatwave (also known as summer to us Brits). A balmy 30C in the UK had led to hosepipe bans countrywide – HOW is this possible with record rainfalls month on month throughout our 8 month winter I will never understand. They say that the sun shines on the righteous – so what the hell had we done wrong (this is of course a rhetorical question so please no answers by return).

We suddenly found ourselves desperate for a pee- but with not even a hard shoulder to aim for. Just outside Tournai the bladder about to explode and we find a ShangriLa also known as an Arral pitstop. 60cents later – whatever happened to the “spend a penny” unwritten convention governing public toilets? – and an empty bladder was filled by the rich aromatic dregs of the Segafredo coffee outlet.

The miles started to fall away as we hit the AutoBahn and soon – just 242 miles from Calais – we get to Bruhl and the first of out theme parks.

Lots of themed hotels line the road and a mock Bangkok Riperbahn lines the roadside. We enter the Phantasialand world of adventure and are immediately caught by the sights and sounds of some serious rollercoaster and lots of kids and scantily clad ladies (well you gotta spice it up a little bit) having a good time in what had suddenly become really hot.

We got some hang time on Winja’s Fear, Winja’s Fear, the Balck Mamba, RiverQuest, Mystery Castle, Talocan and of course Wupi’s Wapi Wipper (the last one was Armando’s special request).

After all the fun it was left to get back to the hotel in what was now 32C in the shade. We looked forward to aircon in the room and a good nights sleep – and a decent meal. The meal was great but phew, what a night. Armando’s bowel complaint (it is the first time I have ever seen an internal organ wave a white flag – something died up there!), coupled with the Tsunami of sweat did not make for a great night’s sleep. Let’s put it this way, the hotel management will definately have to fumigate room 238 and I think they will probably be able to sell our mattresses to the UK to help with the hosepipe ban. Anyhow more on day 2 tomorrow when we return to the Duck and Droolie Recce.

If in the meantime you would like to sign up you better be quick because we are running out of places quickly! Sleep well my pretty.