Hi, I’m Dianne an experienced freelance journalist specialising in people, places and travel. Since 1988 I’ve written for local and national newspapers and magazines including Traveller, Wanderlust, Sunday Telegraph, My Weekly, The People’s Friend, Manchester Evening News and The Review.
There were many reasons I chose to visit Budapest in December. Firstly it was reputed to be very hot and crowded in summer and cold and quiet in winter and the latter sounded infinitely preferable to me.
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This wasn’t my first visit to the Greek island of Crete, I had visited before with my family but we had concentrated our efforts on the popular Eastern side with its tourist resorts and the famous ruins at Knossos, full of ancient myths and stories about Minotaurs and Zeus and various warring gods.
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Last November it was 25 years since the fall of the Berlin wall. I remember, as most of us do, watching it then on the television, as I rocked my first-born daughter to sleep and contemplated the fact that the wall, which had been erected in 1961, the year of my birth, was now collapsing as the new generation of our family (my daughter was also the first grandchild on both sides) was beginning.
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Most people landing at Alicante airport head straight out on the fast road north towards the famous beaches and resorts of the Costa Blanca – to Benidorm mostly – and bypass the city itself.
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Every year hordes of swashbuckling buccaneers descend on Liverpool’s Albert Dock in a riot of clashing swords, heavy boots, great hats and flagons of rum or perhaps orange juice. They are all sizes and shapes – old and young, male and female, seasoned and unseasoned. They arrive by train, bus, car and galleon. This is the annual Pirate Festival and it’s a great day out for absolutely everyone.
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Cliff Richard was being interviewed by the Euro Weekly News in Portugal where he lives a good part of the year now, when he said “If I could choose one place then I think I would choose the Algarve. There’s a peace here that I find nowhere else.”
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“Has anyone swallowed a fly yet?” yelled our guide, Justin, better known as “J” as he scrambled over the boulders like a goat in the 46-degree heat. “If you haven’t, you will.” He continued confidently. We were all too busy concentrating on not falling down the steep sides into the creek to reply. One slip and you were done for; if the rocks didn’t get you the crocodiles were waiting.
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It was one of those birthdays that end with a big fat ‘oh!’…A party? Definitely not! I wanted to go somewhere where half a century would be just a flicker, where half a dozen centuries would only be a blink. Athens was the place. The city has the weighty presence of history in its worn stones; the Acropolis is a fixed point that time flows around. Age doesn’t frighten Athenians; they see it every day from their doors and windows. They see their faces reflected in the old stone statues and they think in centuries. They give it an amiable shrug and live for what counts; respect and friendship and the present moment.
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At the turn of the last century, when gold was discovered in Alaska’s wilderness, prospectors came from all over the world. Some of them did indeed get rich - one dredging machine alone netted seven and a half million ounces of gold - but many also perished, unprepared for the country’s harsh winters.
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The Costa Blanca or White Coast is one of Spain’s most popular holiday areas. Stretching for 125 miles, it has numerous safe, fine-sand beaches and buckets of sunshine for most of the year, but if you explore a little further there is much more to discover. From cosmopolitan towns to quaint villages, rugged mountains and artistic endeavours, beach walks at sunset or partying until dawn, here the choice is yours.
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Last year I went to a memorial for my dear friend Paul Sullivan who had sadly passed away just before his 76th birthday. He was a regular visitor to Glossop, always staying at the Wind in the Willows hotel which he used to joke was his second home.
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