Category Archives: Everyday Life

These Recent Things: I’ve Been Away But Now I’m Back

The sun is shining, I’ve been up since the early hours, and I’m waiting for my friend Maddie to arrive so we can go and swim in the sea. It’s good to have the occasional day without too much responsibility. It’s good for the brain and for the soul. I do most of my best thinking when I’m in the bath, or on a long drive, so I’m expecting a double whammy of inspiration today!

We’ve had such a lot of hot weather, and aside from rendering me dozy and useless, it’s had a big impact on the little animals. I’ve been putting bowls of water and food in the hedge, but it’s not enough. When the rain came it was joyous. Thunder storms that lasted six hours, power cuts, flash floods, trees down, and in the morning, the smell of damp earth, and pigeons stood waist deep in puddles.

I don’t know where to start with these recent things, because it’s been three months, a quarter of the year, and that’s really not that recent, is it?

Perhaps I should tell you the saddest thing first.

April the chicken (the one with the hearts on her feathers and a penchant for a shoulder ride) has gone. She was taken by a hawk. I couldn’t believe it either. Four years she’s lived with us, watched me through the window while I worked, pinched fruit from my puddings, stayed out at night in storms, ran around the garden in circles like Basil Fawlty, and needed to be lifted down from the tree each night and put to bed. She was a very sweet little creature, and all I can hope for her is that it was quick.

I didn’t know what to do with her last eggs, they suddenly seemed so precious, so I did what we used to do and entered them into the village show. She won first prize, of course, she always did.

Now there are just two. Sasha and Margaret. What will we do?


I took a trip to Haarlem with Polly. We wandered the streets, saw blossom and cats and beautiful window displays. We ate croquettes and tapas and things we probably shouldn’t have eaten. We bought souvenirs from the second-hand market and postcards from everywhere we went, and a very kind man gave me a tea towel. What a dream. Haarlem is a beautiful city, with a selection of amazing museums – Het Dolhuys, Frans Hals Museum, the Corrie ten Boom House, and Teyler’s Museum (with it’s incredible collection of rocks and shells, fossils and bones).

Full adventures in Haarlem, available to read here.


I went to Grenoble, rode the cable car to the Bastille, drank Chartreuse, saw the street art, ate the cheese, visited the Museum of Art, headed out to a vineyard.

I went to Vienne, rode the tram to the hill top, ate vichyssoise, saw the Roman temple, headed out to a pancake house, ate jam.

I also involuntarily mooned half of Grenoble airport. You should read about that here.

I went to Cheese Valley. It’s a real place, not a dream. I can’t even begin to explain what an incredible, enjoyable and fascinatingly bizarre time I had, and that’s okay, because I’ve already written about it in full detail for you, here. If you like cheese and cats, and more cheese, and stroop waffles and songs about cheese, and cheese warehouses, giant cheeses and ginger cheese, then you need to know about the cheese mecca that is Cheese Valley.

It was all so good that I wrote a Foodie Finds special on Cheese Valley for Surf4, and an article on grass cheese for Smallholding magazine.

On my way home I popped in to the gallery at 5&33 in Amsterdam to do a bit of research. I’ve been invited to curate an exhibition there, I’m excited about the possibilities.


We launched the new Shutter Hub website and services. It’s been a really positive experience, seeing how well it’s all been received. We’re a small team and we work hard, so every bit of feedback has been really valued.

We’ve been invited back to Cambridge University to partner with Art at the ARB on an exciting new exhibition project, and we’re working on exhibition projects in London and Amsterdam, too.

I sprinted the Elise at MIRA, Silverstone Stowe and Blyton Park. No trophies.

We went to my brother’s for his birthday, ate lunch in the garden, got annihilated by gnats in the woods.

We took part in our village yard sale. People asked for gun sights and Manchester United merchandise. I told a man that my dead grandmother would haunt the dinner service he haggled me on.

We went to Belgium, to Graspop festival, to see Killswitch Engage, and Iron Maiden. We visited the university city of Leuven and explored the beautiful streets during the longest day festival, we ate delicious food and toured the gothic town hall.

Before coming home we visited the Hortus Botanicus Lovaniensis, the oldest botanical garden in Belgium. If I could live in a palm house, I would.


I went to Croatia, wow, Croatia, and I glamped, which is something I never thought I would say, or want to say, but I loved it. I think it was helped by the brilliant company, but staying in a fancy pants tent at the side of the Adriatic Sea, eating the best food and drinking honey grappa, walking the historic streets of Pula and taking a boat to the National Park island of Brijini, well, it was all pretty unexpectedly epic to me.


Jayne and I went to France, to St Gilles Croix de Vie, to Festival Pil’Ours, to launch the Shutter Hub Because We Can! Exhibition.

We hired the cheapest car,‘ Chevrolet Spark or similar’, it said on the Thrifty website. It turned out to be a cute convertible Fiat 500. Not an Abarth, but still, cute.

We drove 130km from La Rochelle airport, and arrived at our hotel, Ker Louis. It was closed. We phoned and were told ‘Come back tomorrow!’ Jayne persevered, struggled, held her own in French, and was eventually told, in English, that there was a code for the door and our keys would be in our rooms. We chucked our bags in and then headed out to see if we could find some food. We asked in the hotel restaurant, no, we were too late, we were told. Then it clicked. The man from the phone! From his seated view in the restaurant, he watched everything, just didn’t help. It was like Fawlty Towers, but without the comedy.

Our exhibition launch was very well received, people were lovely, the festival was great, and opportunities to do more in the future were presented. Later in the afternoon we headed over to Le Fenoullier to see another one of the exhibitions. The local mayor appeared to be very taken with Jayne, talking very closely to her for quite some time, in French, which I struggled to understand fully. When we went to leave, he reached out and shook Jayne’s hand. In politeness, I extended my hand too… he pulled my finger. It wasn’t a joke (but it has provided me with lots of laughs!)

In the evening we ate a supermarket (Super U) picnic by the sea, and watched thousands of tiny silver fish swarm in the dark blue water of the bay. Later, when we walked into the town, there was an accordion band playing, and dozens of people dancing. It was more than wonderful.

Jayne came home vowing to be more French (she’s been eating cheese and watching Amelie) and I decided it’s about time I cracked out one of my piano accordions and got playing!

There’s a full report, feedback and lots of photos of the Because We Can! exhibition over here, on the Shutter Hub blog.

Oh, and,the Toiletries Amnesty website is up and running (and awesome, yeah!) We’ve even been featured by the Big Issue!

We really do still need your help though – if you can spare a few minutes just to have a look at the website, have a think and see if you know any organisations who would benefit from free toiletries, have a look and see if you’ve got something you can donate, tell your friends and help spread the word, and, if you can help financially at all, either through a small donation, or some kind of fundraiser, we’d be eternally grateful.

I guess this all explains why I’ve not written for a while? I’ll try to tone it down for a bit. Promise.

These Recent Things (Hotdogs, Castles & Car Parks)

Last weekend we visited friends in Denmark, stayed in a castle, ate the best hotdogs of our lives, and saw the most brilliant futuristic carpark. I also drank tea out of a cup with a goat on the bottom of it. These are the things that make life.

This weekend we stayed at home, Adam’s been doing DIY and making burgers, I’ve been ironing, writing, and preparing for the week ahead, and Tutti’s been throwing herself at the back door in an attempt to get out and chew the grass.

So, what’ve I got to tell you? Everything, of course!

Remember a few years ago I founded a charity in my airing cupboard? The Toiletries Amnesty has been  announced as the winner of the X Foundation Grant. We’ve got the funding to produce  a dedicated website, and the motivation to create a global movement.

I went to the IMM travel event at the QEII Centre in London, met lots of interesting people and caught up with some of my favourite travel-writing friends. The highlight though, was when I noticed everyone pressed up against the window to watch the royal family going into Westminster cathedral for the Commonwealth Service. There were cries of ‘Look, there’s Megan!’ and, ‘Who’s that weird looking child in the red beret?’ Turns out it was Theresa May.

Eleanor and I attended the Holland Press Awards at the Hoxton, Holborn. An article I wrote for the Huffington Post was nominated for an award. I didn’t win, but I did get to eat a lot of cheese, so, still a winner.

That was such a lovely night. Probably the best awards event I’ve been to. We left with huge bunches of peachy tulips and talked well into the night, in our Ibis Budget hotel cell. Last time we were together was a press trip where we ended up sharing a suite because the hotel rooms were so big I was scared to stay on my own!

The next day we headed off to IPPUDO for good food – delicious ramen and a fancy cucumber. We popped in to Melissa to see Juno Calypso’s exhibition. Eleanor bought shoes and I spoke to a man about data and web cams in the red basement salon the Juno had created. The neon light on the wall flashed from Radience to Die, and for a short moment I wondered if it was a trap.

Whilst we trotted around the city, me lugging a bag full of all sorts, including cured meats and a chopping board, and Eleanor, surrounded by dozens of glorious tulips, Adam Whatsapp’d me updates from home – the cat had slept on the bed, April had laid her first egg of spring. Oh yeah, my real life!

The problem with having a three day work jolly is coming home to no heating and more snow,  a head cold and an email mountain.  I’m not sure when I am going to launch the Karen Harvey Anti Email Party, but it’s coming, and there will be a buffet. And crowns.

I watched a fair bit of We Bare Bears.

The dishwasher broke and all the pans were inside, so I had to go to the pub for lunch.

I went to an event with Green Flag at Devils Pit 4×4 in Bedfordshire. A man came up to me and asked, Are you here to interview Chris?’ ‘No,’ I said, I’m here for the cars’. He patted me gently on the arm and moved on. He was talking about a man from the TV show Love Island. I was talking about a 400 quid Saab 95 and a clapped out white van. Apparently I was the fastest driver of the day. Unfortunately, the competition wasn’t about speed.

I also had a brilliant day up at Donington testing tyres with Bridgestone.

I went to Paris – I didn’t get mugged, I didn’t stand in dog poo, I didn’t eat a macaron, I didn’t eat a snail. Did I even go to Paris?

I got a new accountant. Hooray!

I sat next to a man on the tube who seemed to be quite warm, he had a puffer jacket on, in that really shiny material, and he kept wiping his head on his sleeve. His sleeve was very wet and inside I was like, ‘Eww, wet sleeve, eww wet sleeve next to me!’

When I got off the tube I realised that he had sweated so much that it had gone through his jacket sleeve, through my coat sleeve and then through my jumper sleeve. My left arm was soaking wet with random man sweat!

Adam says I can burn my coat, now that spring’s here.

I was coatless, but then my amazing designer friend Dusica sent me a coat that her studio had made just for me. That’s right. Joy and gratitude overload!

I judged the photography prize at the South Holland exhibition, sponsored by Shutter Hub again this year.

The Shutter Hub BORDERS exhibition finished at St Bride Foundation and we confirmed the OPEN this year will be at the Old Truman Brewery in Brick Lane.

I wrote an article for Shutter Hub on Why the Photography Industry is Saying No to Instagram Pods.

I wrote Foodie Finds for Surf4 (including an amazing lunch at IPPUDO and an evening of cheese, meat and vodka with Woodalls Charcuterie).

And I thought I had sprained my ankle. Turns out it’s Achilles tendinopathy (what athlete’s get, innit). Then I sprained something else, my tooth, on an olive pit. Seriously, did you know that was a thing?

Some photography work I did several years ago with Louise Katerega and Foot in Hand has been included in a publication called Invisible Visibility: Diverse Voices within Inclusive Dance. It was so lovely to be reminded of the project – an absolutely marvellous family of dancers, ignoring adversity, and just being their beautiful, brilliant selves.

Tutti Biscotti turned 11 years old. That’s one whole year she’s lived with us, and in that times she’s only gained a few nicknames; Tuttinda Hotspot, the grey slug and Babooman (because she looks half baboon, half human). 


I went to the UK Blog Awards. The invite said the dress code was ‘As Glam as you Can’. I wore trainers and ate two squares of deep fried belly pork in a hotel basement.

And then we went to Denmark, stayed in that castle, learnt some Danish (fart means speed), ate that hotdog,  went to the sea, and had a lovely, lovely time.

I’m loving the brighter evenings, the signs of spring, and this fruit salad of primroses in my mum’s garden.

FAQ: What Did You Do For Valentine’s Day?


I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been asked the question:

What did you do for Valentine’s day? Erm

Did you give a gift? Err, I’d say so, yes.
Did you go anywhere special? I guess!
What did you wear? Loose clothing.
Did you get a card? Does a donor card count?


I don’t do Valentine’s Day. I can’t help you when it comes to giving heart shaped gifts, I’ve not sent a Valentine’s card in years, and I’m not going to judge you on how many cuddly toys/red roses/boxes of chocolates/marriage proposals (delete as appropriate) you received on February 14th. Half dead petrol station flowers aren’t just for Valentine’s day, crap gifts are for life, and dogs aren’t just for Christmas (I saw someone on Instagram got a Jack Russell puppy as a Valentine’s gift. I like Jack Russells).

This year Adam and I decided to do something, by fluke it happened to coincide with Valentine’s day. We made a ‘#date2donate’ and gave some blood to a stranger. In a totally legit way, I must add.

If you’re like me and have been putting off giving blood for years, don’t. Just get on and do it. Signing up online was such a simple process, finding somewhere local to donate was easy, and I was able to book a time slot, so I knew I wouldn’t be waiting long.

The NHS needs around 200,000 new donors each year. That’s a lot of Iife changing/life saving blood. Between us we can actually make a difference.


Radar Love played on the radio as I was lowered back into my seat. I hide my veins well and often get poked about a lot by nurses, but this was fine, pin prick, easy and in. What with clenching my bum cheeks at intervals and squeezing my hand to help keep the circulation going, I didn’t have much time to think about what was happening. My lap time was 10 minutes 3 seconds. Winner! Such a harmless experience. Also, fascinating.

Afterwards I drank lemon squash and ate an orange Club biscuit. Dub Be Good To Me came on the radio, I turned to the man next to me, ‘I love this song!’ He looked at me, smiled, and got up to leave. ‘Aren’t you going to stay and listen to me do the rap?’ I called after him. He didn’t look back.

It’s quick and easy to register to become a blood donor. Visit www.blood.co.uk call the Donor Line on 0300 123 23 23 or download the app by searching ‘NHSGiveBlood’ in the app store. 

In the pictures:

Portable charger: Juice Powerstation (gift).
Notebook: Moleskine Classic (gift).
Felt tip pens: Pentel.
Laptop: Macbook Pro.
Watch: Nisshoku Eclipse (gift).
Rich Tea biscuits: Lidl’s.

This is not a sponsored post. 

Israel: Tel Aviv – 5 Nights In The 24/7 City (GIRL TOWN Launch Edition)

“Are you sure this is it?” the driver asked, as he hesitantly dropped us off in the street outside our Airbnb. It was it, but it was not what I’d expected.

Up four flights of stairs, through a steel door, and into a dank dark misery hole/apartment. I wasn’t sure what to say. I watched the small lady wrestle Rachel’s duvet into its cover, leaving it twisted and bulbous, like a mangled pork product from a malfunctioning sausage extruder. She patted it down, told us to leave the key outside in the cupboard when we left, and shot off on her push along scooter.

I didn’t notice at first the words ‘Putas Israelianos’ (Israeli whores) scrawled across the front door. Turns out the last Airbnb Rachel booked was an outbuilding in someone’s back yard. She’s not been allowed to book one since!

We sat, ate hummus and crisps that we’d bought from the corner shop, listened to Pat Benatar on my phone, and waited as darkness fell. Then we got lost for an hour whilst trying to find the gallery (where later that week we’d be launching the GIRL TOWN* exhibition).

We wandered back alleys, back and forth, the waft of weed on the air. I asked for directions from a man who was eating noodles off the boot of his car. I started counting cats, I lost count quite quickly and spotted a dog wearing a shell necklace. We realised we were back where we’d started when I spotted the same cat twice. Turns out he was the gallery cat.

There are thousands of cats patrolling the streets of Tel Aviv, posing for photographs, all looking vaguely related, occasionally letting our high-pitched screams and rubbing round legs.

The gallery was a fascinating place. It was, back in the day, a print works producing communist publications, and since then many things, but I felt it had come almost full circle to now being such a socialist space. We ate dinner with some of the team, 11pm at A’la rampa, under the shadow of a multi-storey building, it’s side wall painted with a large black horse.

Back in the hovel box/apartment it got noisier as the night went on. Car alarms, sirens, shouting, revving engines, doors banging, stereos pumping out Justin Bieber and Ed Sheeran, until gone 4am. I had a feeling of despair, a fear that I had just signed up for five nights of sleep deprivation and shit music.

We were up and out of the pit of doom/apartment fairly early. It was hanging day at the gallery. I looked like I was hanging. My face was swollen, eyes puffed up like prawn crackers. Listening to Justin Bieber and breathing in damp, mouldy air for hours will do that to you.

The exhibition hang went well, it was relatively simple and we had free rein. Later in the afternoon we were able to meet up with my friend Moran and she toured us round Jaffa. The sea front, the wishing bridge, to Victory for ice cream (where I was able to put into use my only word of Hebrew, ‘fistuk’) up past the mosque and the catholic church, through the flea market, and back again.

We met another friend, Gali (who I’ve known for 12 years now) up at Habima Square and ate mushroom quiche at Lachmanina, probably the most expensive quiche I’ve ever eaten.


Notes from Thursday: Day off to explore. Cockroach in the hallway. Lunch omelette. Chocolate cake wedge. Cat with crossed eyes. Cat attempting to teleport whilst also attempting telepathy. Statue of the Predator in a shopping mall. Cemetery. Walked to the sea. Sent Rachel into the sea. Found a tiny plastic spanner and a piece of sea glass. Walked back through Carmel Market. Met a little dog in a cute jacket. Drank pomegranate juice (that tasted like beetroot soup). Generally explored.


When I woke up I felt less like I was wearing an inflatable mask, slightly more human. I think I had been revitalised by all those cats and their cat power, or maybe the damp was going because we’d breathed most of the moisture into our lungs.

We wondered if anyone would come to the exhibition launch, but we needn’t have worried. The exhibition had been featured in the Haaretz newspaper. There was a buzz about it, lots of people came – not only because they’d seen it in the national news but they’d also heard about the exhibition from friends all over the world.


Someone told me that my name meant ‘horn’ in Hebrew. Someone else told me it meant ‘ray of light’.

It was a relief to get the exhibition launched, and for it to go so well. On Saturday morning we stayed in bed late then wandered down to Rothschild Boulevard, to Benedict, and ate celebratory brunch.

Moran took us to the port, to the park, to Sarona market. Malls and gardens. Then to dinner. We walked back across the city and came across a protest against the government – thousands of people, flags and banners, police.


We’d been encouraged to try two Israeli snack favourites – Bissli, a kind of crispy crunchy baked pasta-like corn snack, and Bamba, a peanut butter flavoured Wotsit.

I liked the Bamba. The Bamba didn’t like me. After eating a couple of handfuls and marvelling at their amazing peanuttyness (50% peanut apparently) I started to feel sick, and dizzy, my head hurt and my neck started to swell up. I had to go and lie down. I wasn’t sure what would happen. My top lip swelled up. My sleep was filled with nightmares, punctuated by cold sweats and shakes. Then I was woken by the neighbours music at 4am. I listened, a tune that sounded so familiar to me, but one that I’d not heard for years. I concentrated, tuned in to the rhythm  and waited for the chorus.  It was La Bamba. The irony.

Favourite things from Tel Aviv: Our exhibition. Meeting lovely artists. Seeing friends. Every day sunshine. Cats everywhere. Clementines growing on trees in the street. That little dog in a jacket. The beach. Finding a piece of sea glass. The Bauhaus architecture. Seeing the Predator in a shopping mall. My new pouty top lip which, although much smaller, is still refusing to go back to normal. That Ripndip Lord Nermal shop window (top image). Why didn’t I go in and buy these slides?


*Find out more about GIRL TOWN, see  launch event photos, and read why we took the exhibition  from London Photomonth to Tel Aviv, here.

From Eindhoven to Antwerp – & Inbetween (2/2)

What’s the first thing you do when you arrive in a new city? Check out the door furniture, sneak peeks through windows, hunt down pub carpets, look for a chip shop? Me too!

In Antwerp it’s not just any ol’ chips you’ll want to find, it’s designer fries by Sergio Herman at Frites Atelier. We settled in for the Bacon and Bearnaise seasonal special. The chips, cooked skin-on, were fluffy on the inside and crispy on the outside. That’s some good potato action there, (and I am speaking as an expert).


The rain started to fall heavily. Our guide was adamant that we’d survive, but I wasn’t so sure. I double wrapped my scarf round my head and hoped for the best.

We skipped from doorway to overhang, turning our faces from the driving rain to peer into the warm lit shops full of beautiful design, apparel and chocolates. Everywhere there were hands – little hand door knockers, little hand biscuits, little chocolate hands, little symbols of Antwerp.


Rushing through the streets, dodging puddles, we made our way to the Museum Plantin Moretus, a UNESCO world heritage site, housed in the 16th century mansion home and printing establishment of Christophe Plantin.

Dark oak panels and ceilings, walls hung with Rubens paintings on golden satin flocked wallpaper, dimly lit by large three-tiered brass chandeliers. The floors creaked, wood ground against wood under heavy foot, as we passed through the many rooms, saw the world’s oldest printing presses and wondered at the anatomical illustrations of Andrea Vesalius.


Back, out into the light, the rain gave break as we made our way to another UNESCO world heritage site, the seven aisled gothic beauty, the Cathedral of Our Lady.

Outside the cathedral is a sculpture of a boy and his dog, made of white marble, tucked under a paving stone blanket. The work, by Batist Vermeulen, pays homage to the characters Nello and Patrasche from the 19th century English novel, ‘A Dog of Flanders’. This is a tale of great sadness, so, I am going to share it with you.

Nello, an orphan, rescues a dog that was beaten close to death. They become inseparable friends, all they have is each other. After a series of desperately upsetting events Nello, a very talented artist, decides he wants to see Rubens’ paintings in Antwerp cathedral, but he can’t afford the exhibition entry fee. On Christmas Eve they find the church door open, by chance they can go in and see the paintings after all. The next morning Nello and Patrasche are found, cuddled together and frozen to death, in front of ‘The Descent from the Cross’. Apparently, the universal message here is that ‘friendship conquers all, even beyond death’. Let’s see what we can do with the living, shall we?


We took the multiple escalators to the rooftop of MAS, a warehouse-like museum, like a Tetris stack of red-brown sandstone with glass infills, set between two docks. We looked over the city, across the lights, watched trains and cars pass by, then took the multiple escalators back down, crossing the road to Restaurant Lux for a fabulous dinner (and a lovely tiled floor).


It was dark when I arrived in my room at the Hotel Rubens. Cool marble tables, nice lighting, huge bed that lured me with its soft white cotton and many pillows. I was asleep in no time at all.

My delight in the morning when I pulled back the curtains, opened the window wide and revelled in the beauty of it all – the crisp morning air, the peace and quiet, the years of buildings all layered together like the most magical cake.

We were up early, plodding across the city to The Rubens House. It’s actually a palace and his front room had gold leather covered walls. Rubens also owned a couple of castles.

Other things I learnt at The Rubens House: Pets in paintings were a thing in the 16th and 17th century. Some of Rubens work had the value of two houses, while he was alive. His studio was pretty much a factory, 3000 paintings were made there by ‘him’. Aside from being an artist, Rubens was a business man, a diplomat, and some say, genius. However enthralling a tour guide is, I still can’t help but wander off.


Fully Rubens’d up, we headed to our last stop in Antwerp, RAS, a delightful and calm restaurant, on one side overlooking the river Scheldt, and the other looking back at the varied architecture of the city.

The amber coloured beer, De Koninck, is brewed in the city of Antwerp, the goblet shaped glass it is traditionally served in is called a ‘Bolleke’.

After a delicious lunch and one final toast to a great trip, we were back on the road, heading down to Dunkirk for our ferry crossing home.

As we left the city we got a glimpse of the Port House from a distance, designed by Zaha Hadid, a century-old ex fire station sits beneath a new extension of epic proportions. An incredible diamond-like spaceship that needs to be seen to be believed.

My only question now is, when are we going back?


Frites Atelier Korte Gasthuisstraat 32, 2000 Antwerp

Museum Plantin Moretus Vrijdagmarkt 22, 2000 Antwerpen

Cathedral of Our Lady Handschoenmarkt 3, 2000 Antwerpen

Restaurant Lux Adriaan Brouwerstraat 13, 2000 Antwerpen

Hotel Rubens Oude Beurs 29 , 2000 , Antwerp

The Rubens House Wapper 9-11, 2000 Antwerp

RAS Ernest Van Dijckkaai 37, 2000 Antwerpen

DFDS operates services from Dover to Dunkirk and Dover to Calais. All Dover-France ships feature a Premium Lounge, which can be booked for an additional £12 per person each way.

With the greatest thanks to the wonderful people of Visit Holland and Visit Flanders for inviting me to join them on such an excellent adventure.