Our douty ‘leader’ left early to collect the hired car from the airport leaving us to ensure bikes were safely returned to a hub and we were packed ready to leave the moment he returned.

(Whoops. Not quite kbp but a good approximation.)

We were so prompt we had time to indulge in a little shopping. Ikea Copenhagen style was a labyrinth of must have relatively cheap decorative household items. Such is the faith held in my ability with language that R seemed initially reassured that an unusual exit from the first floor was a disabled exit.

I then noticed the pole. And retranslated the notice which I now thought read ‘for the young and those who feel young’. I felt too terrified of getting stuck and incurring the wrath of our leader, but our young investigated the exit: pole, ladder, slide!

We made it in time.

But allow me to show this intriguing poster too (seen on a theatre boat in Nymand Harbour): Quite a sequence of events there, all compressed into one sweet two hour slot! The jitterbug would, I imagine, be the dance.

Incredible drive over a 14 km bridge to Jutland. Impossible to do it credit by photo: particularly as I am the one non driver and therefore (voluntarily) confined to the back seat. But it is impressive.

And so to our new air bnb in Ribe, oldest town in ScandinaviaA delightful spot, on the Main Street but tucked away with river frontage. Everything supplied.

The main entertainment, for me, other than interacting with the family of course, has been watching a Bot lawn mower sadly working his way around the garden opposite (over the water) repeatedly running up and down one strip, never quite falling into the river. I even found myself waving at it, and rejoiced when today I found a mate for him.

This one appears to be having a dirty protest, sitting in a pool of long grass….

But back to Ribe – an ancient time with Viking origins. Rather like York but clean, not too crowded, lived in by regular citizens, and quiet as free from traffic for the most part.

The cost of alcohol, I suspect, keeps the evenings quiet with most people seeming to get their pleasures from the belgian waffle and ice cream shop –  where they even make and roll their own…… ice cream cones. Friday night saw a queue out of the door.

(This is the shop, still emitting the wonderful Smell of waffles but sadly closed when we arrived there on our last night.)

The town was a major seaport for many years and still has a quay with sea going boats, the sluice protecting the damn also containing locking facilities.  It’s very beautiful, particularly at night.