Apart from anything else our recent property sales and purchases have essentially sorted out my lifetime finances, leaving me with a lump of cash and, when I start to get my old age pension in July 2021, a decent income stream.  I had no idea when we gave up our jobs and left the UK in 2002 that it would be this simple and I have to touch wood that there will be no down the line economic and/or personal catastrophes that render this conclusion hopelessly misguided.  Anyway, it seemed like the time to acquire a new motorbike and here it is - a Motoguzzi V9 bobber.  My first brand new motorbike, well almost, it had zero miles on the clock when I picked it up from the dealers in Peterborough, though it had been pre-registered the previous November and came with a stonking discount.  It's actually very similar to the Motoguzzi Nevada I used to have in Puglia and it suits me very well as it's really pleasant to ride, has some useful modern improvements like ABS and a gear...

My last full day in France was a slog from near Beaune, round Paris and up to the town of Bethune, where I rode round and round in circles trying to find the trip hotel du Golf, a grey and boring dump on the outskirts of town.  That evening I checked out the news and found that more trouble was brewing at the Channel ports where a ferry crew strike had broken out for the second time in as many weeks.  I was glad of an excuse to leave early next morning as the previous strike had led to disruption at the Channel Tunnel as well. As it happens there was no problem and I was checked onto an early train.  While waiting I had a chance to inspect a couple of other bikers.  Middle-aged blokes (like me?) with all the gear and BMW "adventure" touring motorcycles.  I'm growing to hate these things.  They look mighty and purposeful with their robust chunky looks and square aluminium and black luggage, but most of them only ever tour on motorways and other tarmac ro...

From Asti I headed for the Frejus tunnel and the South of France.  It was bright and sunny but even so I began to feel the chill as I climbed on the motorway built for the 2006 Turin Olympics up towards the snow line. The tunnel is a surreal experience, a single bore with two-way traffic restricted to sixty kilometres an hour and seemingly going on forever in a straight line.  It's hot inside, like a fan oven on a "warm" setting.  France appeared eventually and then it was downhill to the outskirts of Lyon and north to Beaune, where the motorways diverge, left for Paris and right for the Northern industrial town of Lille and Belgium. I was aiming for Paris but turned off at Beaune to find my B&B for the night.  I rode down idyllic country lanes shaded by tall plane trees and dappled with sunlight into the terroir of Chateauneuf du Pape.  My scribbled directions were hard to follow, but eventually I found the tiny village where my  Chambre d'hote w...

I can't believe how much easier touring is becoming thanks to my ipad and the internet.  Each morning I estimate the days' ride using Google Maps then use a booking website to find cheap accommodation for the evening.  With GPS it's possible to book really out of the way places knowing that they will be easy to find.  Unfortunately my phone's battery is on the way out and I have no way of charging it on the bike, so I have to write down directions to use at the end of the day. Yesterday I decided to head for Asti, near Turin, ready for crossing the Alps today.  It was a long but uneventful ride from Nocera to Asti and after riding round the beautiful old town for fifteen minutes I finally picked up the scent of my b&b, a charming old house called "La Cascina Rossa" (the Red Farm) a couple of kilometres out of town.  In the evening I rode back into Asti and had a stonking supper of squid and potatoes, followed by fritto misto di pesche washed down with...