Look, if anyone was to blame for that inept, insipid performance, then it is Capello for deciding to take two injury prone centre halves and not selecting Jagielka! I watched the game in Tiberias (which is the Israeli equivalent of Weston Super Mare- though admittedly on the Sea of Galilee, rather than the Bristol Channel) with a sour tasting pint of Murphy's that cost about £6.

From Jaffa, I travelled north to Acre. Crusaders had captured this important port in the early C12th and it rapidly became a crucial base.It fell to Saladin's seemingly invinsible force in 1187 and it was here that Richard began his campaign to reconquer the Kingdom of Jerusalem. After his successful siege, it became the capital of the Crusader kingdom.

Acre had been an important port since the time of Alexander the Great. Moreover, it was here that Vespasian landed with his invasionary force to subdue the Jewish Revolt in AD66. Acre itself still feels like a Medieval, Crusader town with its massive stone walls and narrow alleyways and bewildering souq. In reality, it fell into ruin in the C13th following the end of the Crusades and was then effectively re-established in the 1740's by Ahmed Pasha al-Jazzar, whose name translates as "The Butcher"! Napoleon tried to capture the town in 1799, but "The Butcher", with some English support, managed to defeat him.

I followed Richard's advance down the coast. His plan was to capture the important ports so that supplies were able to support not only an assault on Jerusalem, but a secure kingdom in the years to come. The Lionheart's army hugged the coastline as they moved southwards, partly because it offered cover on their left flank, but also because it meant that he could be adequately supplied and supported by his fleet. The march was constantly harried by Saladin's forces and the inevitable clash finally occurred at Arsuf. There had been a Crusader stronghold here, but it had been sacked in 1187. The ruins might still have offered Richard's force a degree of protection, so Saladin decided to attack before they reached the sanctuary of the fortress. Richard's great victory here enhanced his military reputation in the eyes of both Christian and Islamic scribes.

I decided to leave Richard basking in glory for a couple of days and took a brief detour to Galilee and the Golan Heights. For all its beauty, I found the Sea of Galilee a disappointment. Much of the coastline is in private hands and you have to pay to go anywhere near the water. Once there, you are informed that swimming is forbidden! What? I decided to drive around to the far side and eventually found a quietish spot at a place with the unpromising name of Shittim where a few locals were swimming. I must have been in the water for about 2 minutes befor, predictably, the police arrived. Now, they may have been coming in for a swim themselves, but after my experience in France, I wasn't going to wait to find out. So, rather unceremoniously I scrambled out of the water, over the stones and got into my car and set off without even waiting to dry myself!

The area known as the Golan Heights is a beautiful, desolate wilderness in the north of the country. I travelled up to Banias, near to the Lebanese border. This area is now a popular national park. It's name is a corruption of Pan, the Greek God of the countryside to whom the area is dedicated. He was supposed to reside in a great cave that dominates the hillside above what was the ancient town of Paneum (renamed Caesarea Philippi). Sacrificial victims were thrown into a hole in the floor of his sacred cave and if the nearby springs ran red, then Pan was angry and had rejected the sacrifice, but if no blood was detected in the water then the God was happy. Jesus visited here with his disciples and it was here that he changed Simon’s name to Peter, saying “ thou art Peter and upon this rock I will build my church." Thus, this has been a site of religious significance for well over two thousand years and remains a place of pilgrimage today. Its underlying significance perhaps derives from the fact that the springs bubbling up at Banias are the source of the mighty River Jordan. There is a well signed and well trodden walk that follows the stream from the springs to a beautiful, secluded waterfall.




The Crusaders captured the site in 1129 and developed the site, making use of the existing defences of Caesarea Philippi to protect their town. This settlement was itself further protected by the magnificent and imposing Crusader castle known as Nimrod, perched on the surrounding clifftops. The town and fortress both fell in 1164 and were never recaptured by Crusading forces.




I have visited such an amazing number of fantastic sites in the last few days, including Crusader strongholds at Akhziv (Casal Imbert), Letrun, Ramla and Ashquelon, as well as Caesarea, Capernaum and Jotapata. My journey has taken me from Ashquelon in the south, up through Galilee and the Golan Heights to the Lebanese border. It is impossible to write about them all here. My odyssey is nearly complete and my final chapter is a trip to Jerusalem, to accomplish what Richard failed to achieve.

Jaffa

I've spent my first two days in Israel in Jaffa. Although it is only a hop, skip and a jump from Tel Aviv, Jaffa feels like it is from a different moment in history. It has been subjected to numerous conquests and sackings thoroughout its long history, but has somehow survived as a thriving, lively and utterly absorbing town.

The town is associated with some of the great stories from childhood. It was at Jaffa that Perseus managed to save Andromeda from being live bait for a particularly nasty sea monster, and it was also from here that Jonah caught his boat before being swallowed by the whale! Oh, and while we are on Bible stories, it was here that Peter managed to bring Tabitha back from the dead.

There is no visible evidence of Crusader activity in Jaffa, although it was an important port. Richard I realised the importance of Jaffa following his victory at Acre, as the port nearest to Jerusalem and essential for supplies and communications. Saladin also realised Jaffa's importance to the Crusaders and destroyed it before they arrived. The Crusaders spent most of September and October 1191 rebuilding the town's fortifications. Saladin attacked the town in July 1192, while Richard was away in the north. They managed to collapse a section of the defensive wall and entered the city. Richard arrived with his fleet in the nick of time , threw off his leg armour and jumped into the sea. Others followed his lead and the town was saved.

When the Crusaders left in the C13th, their fortifications were deliberately destroyed simply so that they would never return. Thus the Crusader port of Jaffa ceased to exist and it was many years before the settlement developed again. I had a happy half hour being shown around an archaeological dig by the director Yoav Arbel. He works for the Israel Antiquities authority and was able to tell me that although there is no visible evidence in Jaffa from the period of the Crusades, there is plenty of archaeological material below the surface. He showed me examples of Medieval pottery from his current site.

The town developed again under the Ottoman Empire until it was again destroyed, this time by Napoleon in 1799. Following his departure, hastened by outbreaks of cholera and military defeat at Acre, the Ottomans re-established control and the town was rebuilt under the command of a new governor, Abu Nabut. Apparently, his name means 'Father Cudgel' as he liked to walk around the town armed with a heafty stick. He was responsible for building new town walls as well as many new buildings within the town.

The town took further batterings, both under the control of the British between 1917-1947 and during the 1948 War that followed their departure. It is, therefore, remarkable that the town should present itself as it does today.

I am staying in the Old Hostel, a delicious old Turkish home adorned with hanging and personal affects, where the day starts with coffee in the rooftop garden, shaded from the glaring sun by a variety of shrubs and small potted trees. The food in the town is fantastic. Having had felafel for lunch (fried balls of spicy chick peas served in a pitta along with a host of salads and sauces), I went to Dr Shakshuka's restaurant for supper to try his famous eponymous dish. This is a dish of tomatoes, spices and egg, served in a hot metal bowl, in which it has been cooked, and eaten with great hunks of bread. Actually, I stumbled upon his restaurant as I was looking for a place to watch the second half of the England game. I had started off in an ice cream shop, but been driven out by a coach party of Americans all wearing 'Birthright Israel' t-shirts and making inane comments about football in general and the World Cup in particular.



Suspended orange tree, Jaffa




Dr Shakshuka's restaurant

Today I moved on from Rouen to Les Andelys. There are a number of superb castles in the area and it is worth highlighting two here. Gisors was originally built by William the Conqueror, or William the Red as the French like to call him, to protect Normandy from the Kings of France. It proved an important castle for the Angevins too as they battled to retain this disputed territory against the French. Henry II strengthened the castle by replacing the original wooden structure with a stone built shell keep. While Richard was held captive on his journey back from the crusades, Philip Augustus took full advantage and seized control of Gisors. On Richard's return, he fought to regain his lost lands. In 1198, Richard attacked Philip's army with the ferocity of a 'starving lion'. Philip's army retreated at such speed to Gisors and in such numbers, that the bridge broke and the King of France 'drank of the river'. Around twenty French knights were drowned and over 100 were captured.




The castle at Gisors

It appeared that I had timed my visit to Les Andelys to coincide with the annual outing of the entire French fire service. The town was gridlocked by hundreds of fire engines and numerous appendages. The sun was beating down for the first time during my stay and here I was in a traffic jam. I managed to escape by attaching myself to a passing wedding party and with hand on horn completed the final kilometre of my journey on the wrong side of the road.

I eventually found my hotel, an attractive but aging property on the banks of the Seine. It reminded me of my Auntie Rita’s house; outwardly impressive, but it had clearly seen better days. Inside, the large rooms had a certain grandeur, but were too dark and smelt as though no fresh air had entered this century. And, oh God! No tv in the entire hotel! I just assumed... And tonight of all nights! I remembered passing a bar not far away and so set off to watch the game. The French are obsessed with lottery games and the first three bars I try are all watching their national lottery, with no interest in the Coup du Monde. I have to walk a further two kilometres before I find a bar proposing to show the match. There is still some time before kick off and I ask if I can eat. The restaurant was completely empty, but apparently they were fully booked! I found another restaurant and explained to the staff that I would appreciate being served quickly because of ‘le foot’. The waitress looked at me with all the sympathy of a recently divorced woman. With ten minutes until kick off my pizza finally made its entry. No deep pan here, but a selection of toppings carefully arranged on what appears to be a gigantic water biscuit. I arrive late and have missed England’s best moment. No one speaks any English in the bar, but most show sympathy following Green’s howler; clearly the Americans are held in less regard than the English here.



The spectaculor Chateau Gaillard at Les Andelys, built by Richard to control the Seine and completed in 1198.

I have a good friend who publishes a regular blog and sends me a copy each time he feels moved to compose. He is an incredibly witty, intelligent being whom I love enormously and yet I struggle to read his words. I like to choose the authors I read and this is the problem with writing blogs; unlike letters, they are impersonal and, typically, I wonder about the worth of creating my own offering. Hopefully, you are more generous than me and make the decision to read on; if not, I understand!
I have had an interesting few days. En route to Poitiers, I stopped at the village of Mirebeau. At the time of the Angevins, this small village possessed an important castle. When I arrived, the streets were empty. Disturbingly, there was music being piped through speakers attached to street corners. It appeared that it was mass medication time. Arriving in the centre, I realised the reason for the excitement; it was a market, mainly for second hand lawn mowers! There was no tourist office, so I inquired at the hotel de ville about the ancient chateau. No one spoke any English, but apparently the old mayor (who had recently lost the election!) might know. He was lightly to be found in the village bar! I located the man and he was delighted that someone should have some interest in the castle . I explained, as best I could that the castle was very important because it was the site of King John’s only credible military triumph. On hearing That Prince Arthur, his main challenger to the English throne, had captured his mother at Mirebeau, John forced marched his army over one hundred miles from Le Mans and took Arthur by surprise. Over 200 French knights were captured that day, an unparalleled success in the wars of this period. John was not nick-named ‘Softsword’ for no reason and he was able to take Arthur by surprise partly because of his previous military incompetence.
As I walked with the ex-mayor to the site of the chateau, we were joined by other members of the village in a scene reminiscent of Love Actually. I imagined rumours flying around about the true purpose of my visit. However, as they realised that I really was only interested in the small mound to the south of the town, they quickly dispersed.
From Poitiers, I drove to Chalus. I have struggled to judge distances in France. The country is huge. I arrived at Chalus after about a three and a half hour drive, only to find the castle closed! Howver, I was not to be deterred. Unlike King Richard (Coeur de Lion), who died here, I managed to break in, unscathed. My photographs were taken in driving rain, but are testament to my ambition.

Chalus Chabrol-where King Richard I was killed by a lucky crossbow shot


Au revoir

I didn't expect to be writing my first ever blog in a McDonald's. In fact, I am a rare visitor to these shores and I feel a little uncomfortable and out of sorts. It goes beyond the ubiquitous stickiness of the coke-splattered floor, I am genuinely sorry to have come so far to find somewhere so familiar. And yet, here I am, really as a result of the fact that this is the only place I can find offering free Wifi access. How ironic this seems in the light of Geoffrey of Anjou's death bed wish that each state under Angevin control retain its own provincial customs. Thus Normandy was ruled according to Norman custom, Anjou by Angevin custom and so on. Indeed, this has been called a 'fundamental principle' of the Angevin Empire.


I decided to start my exploration of Angevin territories at Fontevrault Abbey. This is a remarkable site; the resting place of the Angevins. Here, in the abbey church, lie the tombs of Henry II, his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, Richard I (see picture) and Isabella of Angouleme, wife of King John. John's heart was also buried here. Such a stark, in your face, direct connection to the past helps to catapult the viewer backwards, particularly in the timeless setting of this beautiful church. Fontevrault has strong links to the Plantagenet's; Henry and Eleanor gave a great deal of money to the foundation. Moreover, Eleanor spent a number of years here following Henry's death. John also spent a good deal of time living here as a boy. In more recent years, Napoleon used the abbey as a prison and it retained this function until 1963. Actually, this new function helped to preserve the abbey buildings, which have now been fully restored.

My second stop of the day was at Chinon, probably the finest of the Angevin castles, rising majestically above the waters of the River Vienne. It was here that Henry II died, after months of ill health; emotionally and physically shattered by his conflict with his son Richard and the Capetian king Philip Augustus. The castle itself has been carefully restored in places. This reflects the castle's importance in French history following its surrender to the French crown during John's reign. Thus much of the restoration favours the castle during the C15th and a particular focus is the visit of Joan of Arc. While this does detract from the importance of the Angevin stronghold, there are enough C12th remains standing up and refusing to be ignored to maintain a strong Angevin presence.