Two borders



Beauties, them all 


How many men does it take?


Plenty of these

Ham waxing


After I posted last night I have to report things went downhill. The Deliveroo driver (if that was for who he worked) failed to find our chalets, despite being sent a dropped pin on Google maps. Numerous calls and texts in German, and one incomprensibly in Arabic, ascertained he thought he was delivering to the capital not Villach. 90 Euros down, Valiant Nigel offered to drive to the nearest take-away. He was accompanied by a refreshed Ham. By the time we were thinking of going to bed, they returned with an enormous supply of pizzas. See photo of Ham in full regaling mode. It was a jolly night; your correspondent choosing to go alcohol-free for fear of his liver collapsing before we get out of Europe. 


The morning revealed a few bleary-eyed rallyists, one of whom was seen swearing at himself for making a tremendous admin cock-up resulting in a rapid rescheduling of flights, accommodation and other logistical measures and the early departure of one co-driver. I name no one in particular. 


We set off not really expecting much, but Austria, followed by Slovenia and finally Croatia (or Hrvatska for those who know) displayed their finest charms as we pootled around the ever flattening landscape. 


Another Airbnb tonight, with the promise of dinner in a restaurant, already booked, but with only one bathroom and two loos for 8 of us. How can an Englishman be expected to, you know, under such duress?


Tomorrow we leave the Schengen area into Slovenia. 



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