“Sorry. We don’t exchange Euros.”

We arrived back in Split at about 5pm, and headed away from all the SobeRoomSleeping? people waving their pieces of paper at us at the station (with me replying NoFerrySleepingHome each time) and straight over to the ferry ticket desk to see if we could somehow obtain a proper bed for the night. Despite having twice failed to book a cabin for the return journey prior to this, we were now told that there was…

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Do you know who is it, Mr Armstrong?

Dubrovnik turned out to be the absolute highlight of our trip, although we barely left the old town for the whole time we were there. On one of the evenings, we walked the city walls at sunset, which provided some stunning views, and partially explains the sheer volume of photographs we took (sample comment from someone who saw our photos: “Did you guys do anything else but take photographs while you were there?”). We also…

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“Should apply in person at the Bosnian embassy…”

After two days in Hvar, it was time to move on again. We’d booked our travel on to Dubrovnik on another tourist excursion, taking a bunch of foolish tourists on a day trip from Hvar (a journey of almost 6 hours each way, and affording them only something like 5 hours actually in Dubrovnik). As we only wanted to go the one way, however, it was perfect for us, because it would get us to…

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Hvar Town

In the end, I’m not sure Hvar Town was really worth the bother. Despite its pretty harbour, and the fantastic views that we found when we climbed up to the citadel above the city, the town’s charm is nothing compared to Bol or Dubrovnik (our next destination). Hvar is also rather lacking in beaches, and we had to make do with a quick swim off the rocks to the left of the harbour, as assorted…

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“Do you speak English?”

We ended up staying in Bol for two nights, which allowed us just enough time to spend a very relaxing day lounging around on the beautiful Zlatni Rat beach that jutted out dramatically into the sea at the opposite end of Bol, where we somehow managed to secure a couple of sun loungers just inches from the warm, clear sea. There was also plenty of time for us to waste sitting around in the bar…

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If You Don’t Like Crowds… Or Bad Music

After what seemed an interminable delay following our arrival, Adriatica, the shipping company, and the Croatia immigration authorities in Split finally decided to let us and the rest of the passengers off the boat, and we were in Croatia. We’d heard that Split itself wasn’t up to much, so we’d already decided to try and get out and on to one of the islands as soon as possible. Fighting our way past the touts offering…

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“The Direction of the Ship Does Not Take On Responsibility For All Values Left In The Cabin Or Elsewhere”

In the end, of course, Sally’s passport arrived back with a day to spare, and we were able to go on our holiday after all. Rather unusually, you might think, for a holiday in Croatia, ours began in Venice. Nevertheless, owing to the vagaries of late-availability flight deals to non-cheap-flight accessible countries, we arrived there late on Friday night. I’d been to Venice only once before, on a rainy couple of days in August nine…

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Comments

…are turned off at the moment, sorry. For some reason the comments have just stopped working. I have no idea why, but it was working fine the other day. Oh well, as I don’t have time to fix them at the moment, I’ve had to turn them off altogether. I’ll try to sort it out as soon as possible. Sorry.

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Waiting For My Man

Sometimes life is just too exciting. Today I’m waiting in for the postman in the vain hope that he might be able to deliver Sal’s passport, which is on its way back from the home office with a shiny new visa sellotaped to the inside. Will the trusty postie turn up before noon? Will he fail to ring the bell and just leave one of those cards that says “we couldn’t be arsed to deliver…

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Go Home. Tune In. Duck. Cover. Put Your Feet Up. Make A Nice Cup Of Tea. Vote Labour. Wait For The Authorities To Turn Up. Then Know What’s Best. They Always Have Our Best Interests At Heart.

Returning home from a thoroughly pleasant work leaving dinner at a sadly fairly celebrity-free The Ivy last night, I discovered that we’ve finally received our very own copy of the cracking Preparing For Propaganda booklet, about three weeks after everyone else (“oh, is that what that is” says a disinterested Sal, who hadn’t even bothered to pick it up from the floor next to the front door–surely the actions of a potential terrorist, if ever…

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