The World

Travelling around the world gets easier every year. Pandemics permitting. It used to be tougher. A lot tougher. The most fabulous property in Bournemouth is now a museum, the Russell-Coates, dedicated largely to the globe trotting exploits of the very wealthy Victorian couple that it is named after. Rich not only financially, but in leisure time too. They used ocean going liners to explore six of the seven continents, and teams of porters to bring them and their treasure back home.

A century later, and I started exploring the world. Armed with a Lonely Planet guide book and a bag full of books and Zip drives to store photos on – Compact Flash memory cards cost an absolute fortune in the early noughties, and you could forget about uploading anything in an Internet cafe over a 56k dial up connection. But I was able to fly anywhere in the world in next to no time at a reasonable cost. And then I’d work my way from the airport to a cab, to a hotel to my next stop.

Now? Kindles and cloud storage mean my snapper and entertainment can all fit in a bum bag. The internet means everything is booked well in advance. My smartphone has all my boarding passes and tickets ready to scan. Despite the greater ease of travel in the 21st century, I’m still lagging behind Annie and Merton Russell-Coates though. I have just four continents under my belt. A miserly 39 countries. But I’ll catch them up eventually. In just the last month, I’ve added Estonia, Finland and the Czech Republic to my country count.

There’s an easier way still to travel though. And it shouldn’t be sniffed at. Turn on the telly and someone is going somewhere on at least one channel. If you’re lucky it will be Clarkson, May and Hammond. Top Gear and the Grand Tour, in its various incarnations has been a fixture of my adult life. Yes, it’s just lads tv, low brow, sometimes a bit juvenile. But it’s relatable. It’s beautifully shot. And it’s shown us the world. I’ve loved every minute of it. Alas, after decades, it’s come to an end, right where it began. What a nice way to do it. I felt quite emotional. Truly.

I met Jeremy Clarkson once. Well. I say I met him. I just followed him down a street in Hanoi for a while. Mrs P spotted him first. I’d have liked to say hello, because you can’t help but feel you know a chap after you’ve watched him on the telly for so long. A certain kinship. You’ve been places together. Fortunately, I have a mental handbrake that stops me from disturbing folk who are trying to mind their own business. A little voice that reminds me, “it was just television, old chap.” But perhaps that’s the biggest compliment I can pay them, and perhaps the secret of their success. One does need to remind oneself that it was just the telly and they’re not actually my mates.