Lage Zwaluwe to Baarschot

I noticed that there was also a Hooge Zwaluwe nearby – so I deduce they are “Lower” and “Upper” Zwaluwe. A less ferocious tailwind (boo!) but drier and sunnier (hurray!) than yesterday. The first part of the day was along the river on a high path dodging gangs of nonchalant sheep. Then through Oosterhout (great roundabout) and Dongen to the Wilhelminakanaal, which enabled us to skirt Tilburg without needing to navigate. It also gave us a very different impression of Dutch cycling: no longer gentle pootling but – now that e-bikes are so common and so various – more like a speedway circuit. The cycle paths are being upgraded; I was tempted to compare it to dualling the A1 or adding an extra lane to the M25.


I never know, when cycling in the Netherlands, if the next town or village will be modern or old. Whether there will be a shopping centre that suggests the high point of the 1960s still live or if there will be shapely gables and shutters just as if Vermeer painted them. Sometimes the two co-exist, as in Oosterhout.

Europoort to Lage Zwaluwe

My photographs give a misleading impression: there was as much rain as sunshine and as much greenery as petro-chemical plants. In avoiding ferries to cross waterways, we sampled a variety of Dutch civil engineering: three bridges and two tunnels. Our second breakfast was in Hoogvliet: a small Milton Keynes where the shopping centre replaced the church/market place/town hall trinity. Nice to be back in the Netherlands – and with a tailwind.

Brough to Hull

This time we got off the train at Brough and cycled into Hull; I really didn’t want to cycle in and out of Hull again. Great views of the Humber bridge – and I had time to go into the Ferens art gallery and look at a painting by John Hunt of the waterfront in 1837. I got sidetracked by the steam packet on the far left: this went from Hull to Gainsborough, so of course I wondered how on earth it got to a landlocked town. Up the Humber and then up the Trent is the answer.

Ashmolean

An unfocused wander around a little bit of the Ashmolean – which suddenly sharpened into view as we entered the gallery of Dutch and Flemish still lifes. Display cases contained fascinating artefacts contemporary with the paintings – just brilliant. A completely unexpected spark.

River trip

I’m in Oxford for a few days, staying in Headington in a small estate of inter-war houses, many of which – like ours – have been extended and turned into HMOs.  So not Brideshead Revisited – but neither is it Jude the Obscure. After all there is a Waitrose nearby. (Bicycle helmets in many wire baskets.) I suppose this is just urban living nowadays in the over-crowded south-east. Hemmed-in and concreted over – but somewhere I can hear a bird singing. I lived like this in London 40 years ago, but I’ve grown used to space and light since then.

It’s an easy bus ride into the centre of Oxford. Today we went on a boat trip from Folly Bridge past Christ Church Meadows to Iffley Lock. (Three Men in a Boat popped into my head at this point.)