Narrowboatboy’s Big, Bad Blog...Narrowboat & Travel blog based on Lancaster Canal

La Cesa There's always plenty to do at La Cesa.  http://www.lacesa-tuscany.co.uk/ It's a fourteenth century converted farmhouse situated in the south of Tuscany just below the medieval hilltop town of Cortona which will no doubt get covered later in the week. It's a sanctuary we will call home for a few days while we lend a hand in the gardens and explore the surrounding rural area. It's also a holiday let so jobs need to done to get the place looking its best following the devastation caused by the windy winter months. Tree surgery, stump grinding, trimming, cutting, pruning, rotavating and anything remotely agricultural goes around here.  Today the Wisteria that covers the house, pergola and pool had a serious haircut and we get to add a few foot to the already massive bonfire that we aim to have later in the week. It's time now for that glass of wine at the kitchen table. Today's track came to mind while hacking down the huge amount of ol...

Pisa.  Famed almost entirely for its under-average sized cock-eyed Tower mobbed every hour by hoards of visiting tourists wrapped in puffy jackets, clutching maps and slices of pizza buying plastic replicas of the erection and tea-towel souvenirs from tacky street stalls. Here you also have to be very wary of getting a poke in the eye from a misguided selfy stick in the vicinity of the basilica! Seen it, done it, bought the tea-towel so we don't now bother with that end of town anymore... The airport is very handy for the centre of Pisa. Our chosen method of travel to get there is generally best experienced standing, pressed up against the windscreen, on an eight minute white knuckle ride on the local 'PisMover'; a hilariously named mode of transport that always brings a childish smirk when one sees the name on the front of the bus. From here, only a few streets away lies  Alessandro Della Spina, a small Italian hotel to allow us to have a night out ar...

It would appear that previous trips that have not attracted any blogging have given rise to a proportion of criticism from what I can only describe here as sad individuals with very little going on upstairs...oh well, you know who you are and I intend to make amends with some literal ramblings throughout the latest trip while returning to Italy. The half hour delay leaving John Lennon gave enough time to peruse through the in-flight magazines and Sunday supplements inspiring and tempting me to buy a plethora of desirable items, never previously considered, but now, by clever marketing jargon and in a relaxed state from the airport bar I can't help but find them totally irresistible.  How could I not want a half price pair of Ultimate crease and water resistant fabric pleated slacks in French navy with a complimentary slip on apron trim shoe with elastic inserts for easy foot entry?...both claiming total maximum comfort and support for the regular wearer. Or A lim...

Well, unfortunately it was all a dream! The reality was that the airline cancelled the flight to Bergerac at the eleventh hour and we were unable to find an alternative. Not to be outdone, we luckily had a comfortable Narrowboat standing by set sail up the Lancaster Canal the next day and had an alternatively adventurous time heading up to up to Tewitfield and returning via Glasson Dock. The weather and the food was much the same as it would have been in France but there were less French folk, so our trip to the Dordogne will have to wait for another time in the future. Until the next time... Last track by 'The Cribs'...and apt song to end on!

The mornings wine tasting at the local Chateaux hosted by Bridget Bardot was a fancy affair, a cauliflower foamed Meuse beuch  on arrival then straight in to Canapés and vol au vents in between tastings of sparkling aperitifs. Before we knew it we started to feel a little tipsy and foolishly signed up for an afternoon of extreme sports being held in the local area. We chose the combo package of Parkour and Fly Boarding.  The Parkour started well with both of us donning special pumps and managing to run up a couple of the smaller office blocks and even managed a couple of back flips off the window ledge before moving on to sliding gracefully over the roof of a parked Citroen Picasso. Later, at the beach for our exciting session of Fly Boarding didn't go just so well! The pressure in the hose was set far too high for us beginners and even with the instructor attached we both shot skyward, but in different directions and started to spin around uncontrollably about 20ft ...

It was time to explore the picturesque countryside famous for its wonderful natural regional cuisine. We were the last ones on the coach for our organised day trip excursion to the local foie-gras factory, the site of our next destination. Here we were instructed in the art and methods of humanely rearing large Gallic roosters, which are tethered up by their necks in cramped but comfortable rearing crates in readiness for the twice daily routine of being subjected to pain and distress. Luckily, we got the opportunity to wrestle a few of the bewildered birds to the ground in an awkward attempt to stuff a great funnel down their gulping throats and then while balancing a cheek and straddling over a small traditional wooden stool we eagerly turned handles of medieval grinders to force a heady concoction of steroids, paxo and pungent herbs down the flappy enlarged gullets to enable all the strained  internal organs to artificially swell and burst with the silky, buttery flavours...

Waking up to glorious sunshine with views of the snow capped Mont Blanc in the distance, it wasn't long before we were donning stripey tops and setting off along the twisting valley on 'bicyclettes' with onions jauntily balanced on the handlebars and swinging in the breeze as we pedalled off past several Impressive and opulent Chateau's to meet up with the locals sitting on rickety chairs under a red checked tablecloth 'al fresco' style outside a famously quaint cafe, 'Pret-a-Porter' for 'petit dejeuner'. An awkwardly large chap with a ruddy face and dressed in a long apron greeted us kindly and briskly brought our order of steaming plates of boiled snails, deep fried frogs legs and a large Coq au Vin! Re-invigorated, we decided upon a religious experience. A visit to a 12th century pilgrimage site to which the devout drag themselves up on their knees to experience the blessed virtues of the 'Fallen Madonna' and make incense offeri...