So, here we go again with another series of daily travel updates in keeping with my long-standing tradition of documenting everything whenever we’re away from home. Ordinarily, I write these travel blogs once every year or so, and typically while we’re on holiday. Unusually, this will be the third in the past ten months. Once again, we head to the UK to visit family. As with the previous couple of visits, this isn’t really a holiday. We aren’t going to be spending any time at theme parks or doing any other touristy things. I’ll also be continuing with my mental and physical health obligations for the duration. I’m still on burnout sick leave, so I need to ensure I’m not hindering my recovery in any way. My company doctor has always been supportive of me visiting family, as that contributes towards the healing process. Still, I am trying to remain conscious of the optics.
When I visited in December 2025, I came with Jae. When I was here in June, I was alone. This time, it’s me, Sandy and Joey. Jae has only just started a new job at the nearby supermarket, so she’s staying behind. During my previous UK visit, I spent most of my time in Wales with my eldest brother, John, and his partner, Lisa. While I was there, I also visited Dad, Paul, Richard, and Little Jacky (my younger sister, whom my parents fostered when she was a teenager) and reunited with a cluster of my cousins, but I spent most of my time with John and Lisa. This time, we’ve been offered refuge with Jenny-Lee, affectionately known to one and all simply as JL. JL is my eldest niece—my eldest sister Jacqueline’s daughter. She lives in Clacton with her husband, seven kids, and a dozen or more animals.
I stopped in to visit JL at the tail end of my last visit. It was a fleeting last-minute thing. JL and I instantly reconnected through shared life experiences—so much so that we decided I’d come back with the family for a longer visit—hence this trip now.
JL was a big part of our lives back when we lived in the UK and were just starting our own family. Our photo libraries are full of images of JL with our kids, whether pushing them in prams or looking after them as a trusted babysitter.
Sandy and I always tried to be active participants in our nephews’ and nieces’ lives when they were all kids. Indeed, we often referred to ourselves as ‘Professional Aunt and Uncle’, because we had so many nephews and nieces but no children of our own yet.
Sadly, that close contact waned over the years—particularly after we fled the UK for ever more distant shores. We did get to see some of them again while we lived in Florida. That’s a favourite family holiday destination for many Brits, and my British relatives are no exception. Jacqueline and her extended family visited Florida while we lived there, and we spent a lot of time together. The same is also true of my other older sister, Annie, and her family. I have vivid memories of spending time with many of my young nephews and nieces at the various Orlando theme parks.
Some returned to Orlando years later with kids of their own, and we enjoyed their company then, too. We were even fortunate enough to see Jacqueline and her family when they visited Australia for Shalina’s wedding. I count Shalina and her brothers as part of my cohort of nephews and nieces. Technically, they are the children of my cousin, Ree-Ree (Marie), so I think that makes them cousins once removed.
I was all set to book into a caravan park near where JL has just moved to, but she was insistent she could put me, Sandy, and Joey up in her house. With a little bit of trepidation, I eventually capitulated to JL’s arm-twisting and agreed to forgo the caravan booking. I do feel slightly awkward about displacing her and her husband, Jay, from their bedroom while we’re there. I said I’d book us into the caravan park if it got too stressful to accommodate three extra bodies in what’s undoubtedly already a busy household. JL’s no-nonsense ‘we’ll just make it work’ attitude was refreshing—and very welcoming.
JL pinged me recently about whether we have any special needs, dietary requirements, or anything we wanted to do while visiting. I told her we would just tackle things as they presented themselves. We’ve agreed on a no-expectations visit—we simply want to spend time together. I’m especially looking forward to getting to know her children more. There just wasn’t enough time to do that justice during my last visit, although the kids were starting to warm up to me by the time I left, which I loved.
So, getting back to what happened today. My packing, if you can call it that, consisted of throwing a few things into a bag last night. Our passports were already sorted out and placed into their zipped travel documents bag for safekeeping. Today’s crossing will be the six-to-seven-hour Stena Line ferry from the Hook of Holland to Harwich. Sandy and I know that route well from the mid-1980s. We made this same crossing numerous times during the two to three years we were courting, while still living in our own countries of England and the Netherlands.
I bought one-way tickets, as we didn’t know exactly how long we would be in the UK when we booked. Leaving the trip open-ended affords us some extra flexibility. Crossing prices don’t fluctuate much day to day, so it didn’t make much difference whether we booked the return crossing now or closer to the time. I also wanted to keep the option of visiting Dad at the end of our stay, then heading back to the Netherlands by ferry from Dover to either Calais or Dunkirk, instead of retracing our route back via Harwich to the Hook of Holland. The Dover route would mean more time in the car but a lot less time on the ferry.
As it happens, JL needs us out of the house by next Monday anyway. Whether we head back home then, or hang around in the UK for a few more days (perhaps after booking into a caravan park or something), remains to be seen. Exactly how long we stay and what route home we choose are still up for grabs. We’ll see how things pan out.
The Stena Line ferry tickets are tucked away electronically in my digital wallet, so all we had to do this morning was point the car toward the Hook of Holland, about a two-hour drive.
I was up at around 8 am. The plan was to be out of the door by 9 am. That gave us plenty of time to make the 14:15 sailing, including stops for breakfast and charging. This is the first time we’ve dared to take the fully electric car any significant distance. I will need to be vigilant about when and where we can charge the car while in the UK. Not that I want to jinx anything, but what could possibly go wrong?
Since Sandy was already so well prepared, we were fully loaded and out the door by around 8:30 am.
No departure to anywhere would feel complete without a stop at our nearby Maccas (Maccies to my UK friends) to feed the family, so that’s exactly what we did before setting off towards the west coast.
With a handful of apps loaded especially for the occasion, I navigated to an electric-car-charging facility just short of our destination. We started with 100%, having charged overnight, and arrived with around 30% remaining. After 35 minutes of charging, I topped us up to 90%, costing about €15. That should be more than enough to get us the remaining 20 to 30 minutes to the ferry and then from Harwich to Clacton on the other end with about half the battery capacity in reserve. I brought the trickle-charger cable with us, so we could plug in overnight if that turns out to be an option. Otherwise, there seem to be plenty of charging options in and around Clacton.
When we arrived in the Hook of Holland, we found two Stena Line ferries moored up. One looked more like a freight carrier, and the other was ours. Getting through immigration was a breeze…mostly. When I booked the trip, I was advised that dual citizens with British passports must travel using their British passports. Both Joey and I fall into that category. I am British and Australian. Joey is British, Australian and Dutch. Sandy is also a dual national, but she is Australian and Dutch. The upshot of that advice was that I packed Joey’s British passport. When the lovely woman inside the little immigration booth discovered Joey was a dual national, she asked for his Dutch passport…which I hadn’t packed, much to Sandy’s consternation. Once that penny dropped for her, I was well and truly in the doghouse. In the event, the immigration woman was completely relaxed about it all. She had no issue with letting us through. Of course, that raises the question of whether immigration will be as relaxed when we try to return. We’ll cross that bridge (ferry?) when we get to it. I’m not especially concerned. After all, it won’t be me who gets twenty years in the electric chair.
After a few minutes of tedium, the two- to three-row line of waiting cars, campers and caravans started moving forward and onto one of the ferry’s vast open vehicle decks.
We collected everything we needed from the now parked car (access to the car deck isn’t possible during the voyage) and made our way up to deck ten, where our cabin awaited. Sandy had the good sense to wait for the lift. However, since Joey was racing ahead, muggings here had to track him all the way up the six-hundred-and-thirty-bloody-eight flights of energy-sapping stairs to deck ten. I flopped out of the stairwell just as the lift went ‘ding’ and Sandy emerged. The huge grin, along with that smug look on her face as she looked down at me now practically crawling over the carpet, was an especially loving touch.
We found our cabin, which turned out to be just a tad tighter than those airy, wide-angle photos depicted on the glossy website. We all squeezed in…barely.
After dropping the bags, we immediately sought refuge from the acute claustrophobia and set off to explore the ship. As ferries go, it’s a big enough vessel. However, aside from the two cabin decks and various vehicle decks, there’s only one deck for passengers to explore. Most of that deck is a couple of restaurants, some seating areas and a duty-free shop. Within ten minutes, we’d pretty much explored all there was to explore.
Sandy and I decided to have a meal, and Joey headed to the cabin to get some rest. His sleep schedule is often offset from the rest of the world, so he’ll likely spend much of the voyage asleep.
After lunch, Sandy and I contemplated the various hidden mortgage-busting internet connectivity and roaming charge pitfalls, of which there are many. Trying to wrap your head around these things is enough to make your head spin, so I called Vodafone customer support to get the what’s what directly from them. The upshot was that they advised us to switch everything off and use only the on-board paid Wi-Fi for internet connectivity. The risk of connecting to a maritime satellite service and being charged upwards of €8/MB for data was just a bit too big for comfort. Sandy ended up spending €4 on a premium internet connection voucher so Joey could still watch his iPad during the voyage—especially handy now the lad has gone to bloody bed!
For the past couple of hours, I’ve had several bouts of uncontrolled sneezing. Either my allergies are playing up, or I’m possibly coming down with something. Let’s hope it’s the former.
The ferry has been underway for almost two hours as I write this sentence. The seas outside are as calm as they possibly could be, and there’s very little side-to-side swaying. So far, it’s been plain sailing.
Fast-forward a few hours, and I’m tucked away in our room at JL’s new house, ready for sleep. Disembarkation at Harwich was delayed slightly, according to the announcement over the speakers, because of a problem with one of the ship’s engines. Fortunately, we had already arrived, so only the docking took a little longer.
With a tinge of trepidation, I handed over our three passports to another woman in another small immigration booth just after disembarkation. Fortunately, she was all smiles and handed our passports back while wishing us a pleasant time in England. I’m still curious to see what happens when we try to go back to the EU. I keep my residence permit card with my British passport. That immediately tells the immigration agent I have the right to enter the EU, since it shows I am a Dutch resident. Joey doesn’t need one as a Dutch citizen, but without his Dutch passport, he has nothing to prove it.
Now down to about 50% charge, we arrived in the dark, pulled into the driveway, then immediately pulled out again and into the next one. Those neighbours must have wondered what the glare was from an unexpected car pulling up to their front window. After pulling out of that second one, as it was also the wrong house, it was third time’s the charm, and we finally got out of the car and straight into JL’s waiting arms. Like a controlled explosion, we unpacked and were welcomed with love. Joey brought with him a ton of his Beyblades and accessories, including an arena and some brand-new Beyblades for JL and her family. As a conversation starter, it was a great way to help Joey and some of JL’s kids feel comfortable right away, so mission accomplished.
Fortunately, we aren’t displacing JL and Jay from their room. They put Sandy and me in one of the downstairs rooms with a rather large, comfy inflatable bed. I’m already feeling less guilty than I was at first.
We did briefly discuss what we might get up to while we’re here, but that’s still largely open, and we’ll play things by ear. For the most part, it’ll just be chats around the kitchen table, and that’s just fine by me.