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I’ve been thinking a lot this week about the autosleeper, and the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of a motorhome over a camper. 

The search continues.

My search for a camper led me to Portsmouth, where I had been told about a VW Autosleeper. 

goodbye bruges.

It was our final night in Bruges.

Chick, Chick, Chicken.

In the far corner of Bruges city centre is Minnewater, a fairytale park with a the white walls of a UNESCO monastery gliding along the edge.

breakfasting in Bruges.

A great night's sleep, followed by the most amazing breakfast, was exactly what was needed.

The Christmas Market.

A bitter cold wind swept across as we stepped out of the hotel door.

A cold afternoon in bruges.

Straight after lunch we headed out to explore.

Back in Bruges.

I've completely fallen for this city, and it didn't take me long to return.

Lincoln Christmas Market.

The Christmas Spirit has hit me, with a full, tinsel covered, carol singing, bauble breaking force. 

Daniel Wellington.

I have been lusting after a certain something for a little while now.

Travel Far.

A little bit of wanderlust for these dark, cold, winter days.

The Search Begins.

I have wanted a camper van for as long as I can remember.

Jorg Obé.

After roaming around cities, living on waffles and creamy foods, and drinking beer like it was water, my skin felt awful.

lille doesn't open on a monday.

The next morning we headed straight for the city centre. 

City Life in Lille.

Lille came as quite a shock, after the size of Ypres and the quaintness of Bruges.

Ypres Dawn.

We rose with the sun the next morning, in an attempt to cram in as much as possible on our last, and only morning in Ypres.

One night in Ypres.

We swung our rucksacks over our backs and jumped off at the small station. Outside the roads more resembled the trenches that had occupied the surrounding lands 100 years before, rather than the modern hub the town now is.

From Bruges with Love.

As we stepped off the bus, we had four hours left in Bruges before we were due to catch a train to Ypres.

The entire rest of eternity spent in fucking bruges.

We made our way through the lanes, passing by churches and chocolate shops, back towards the central square.

Meandering between the streets, we stumbled upon beer museums, a frittas museum, and the jewish Quarter of the city, home to the old Diamond House.

Maybe that's what [heaven] is.

Stretching, I poured myself a coffee and walked out onto the balcony. There I was, in Bruges. A whole new day and a whole new city to explore.

It's a long way to Bruges.

We were meant to be meeting Hans, the owner of our next stop, at the apartment at 5pm. So we said goodbye to Ghent and clambered our way onto a crowded train, rucksacks half our own body weight in tow, and headed for Bruges. 

A Day in Ghent.

After squeezing our rucksacks into a locker in the train station, we were free to explore the city for a few hours. We needed to be at our apartment in Bruges by 5pm, to meet the owner who would collect the pay and give us the keys. We guessed that would allow us just enough time to have a wander around, grab some lunch, and then make our way to the next stop.

A Final Surprise.

Arising early, we packed our bags, left the apartment keys on the table and made our way to the train station. 

This time we chose to leave on the one road we hadn't walked along, thinking it would be a clever short cut to the station. As we lugged our bags around the corner, we suddenly found ourselves in the political district. As it turned out, the building next to our apartment had been the Flemmish Parliament. 

Last Night in Brussels.

As we came up from underground train station, the fluorescent lighting gave way to a golden sun, and indeed the first sun we had seen on our trip.

Over the Hills.

2015 is the 200 year anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. We decided we couldn't be so close to the site, and not take a visit.

Stormy Nights.

We stepped out of the bar into, what soon transpired to be, the tail end of a hurricane that was sweeping its way across Europe. A quick run into a side street, in an attempt to keep us out of the rain, found us outside of the Tintin Store.

Bottoms Up.

On the far side of the square, there is a single door. There is nothing special about this door, and to anyone passing it would mean very little. However, step through it and follow a tight set of steps down into a cavern below, and you will find quite a gem.

Waffleing On.

We found ourselves in the food quarter.

Welcome to Brussels.

I threw open the curtains the next morning and the sun hit my face. Instantly, the cold, dark walk and the hint-of-curry nightmare from the night before disappeared, and Brussels was calling.

The Great Escape.

After my first ever adventure on the London Underground, and a quick jump on the Eurostar, we made it to a dark and windy Brussels.

Birthday Celebrations!

I have been completely and utterly spoilt rotten.

What's in a bag?

I don't really carry handbags. I carry camera bags.

Travel in Style.

I've started thinking about packing for Belgium.

Map it up.

The maps have been pulled out, the passports are ready, travels are being planned!

Put a Ring on it.

The burger is juicy, the bacon is crisp. And the onion rings... Don't even get me started on the onion rings! Well, maybe just a few words...

Food Porn.

I have written about this place before, and I won't lie to you, I will again.

So just plain food porn today from my ever favourite, South Deep.

Be a Rebel.

I have the desperate urge to travel.

I need to explore, find new things and hear new languages. It's time to pull out the maps and start planning.

Jamon y Habas.

There is nothing better than a selection of Tapas, a tall glass of Sangria and a red glowing sky.

GOLD!

Always believe in your soul!

Moon.

We all go through phases.

The final frontier.

For as long as I can remember, I have been obsessed with the cosmos.

Nautical but Nice.

For the past two months, it has very much been a case of all work and no play for me. 

Love Affairs Revealed.

All great love affairs start with those first few months, when everything is quiet. When it is only you and the other half that know. Friends, family, the public - no one really knows how you feel. Just you. There are no justifications, no one else to step in and make a comment, just pure unadulterated love. 

Let's get wet'n'wild.

This weekend my best friend came to stay.

Monking Around.

I have a thing for religious buildings. And castles. Despite not being religious, or indeed a King.

In Yorkshire there is a ruined Cistercian Monastery called Fountains Abbey. Its golden walls, destroyed by Henry VIII during the dissolution of the monasteries, still sat at the bottom of a beautiful green valley deep in the dales. 

Now owned and cared for by The National Trust, Fountains is open to the public all year round. Through the years, the land surrounding the old Abbey has also become the home to some wonderful architecture, including Graeco-Roman water features running all the way into a flat lake, at the edge of which sits one of the best spots for afternoon tea in all of England. 

You can just imagine Mr Darcy walking through these fields.

Whether you're a complete Medieval Geek, or you just enjoy a good day out, one day go and see Fountains. The history, the architecture, the story, is all completely breath-taking. That a small group of men could build something that, despite being completely ransacked, is still a stunning example of craftsmanship, is really quite something.