One of the best ways to discover some of the many views of and from this well known corner of north London can be located by heading up Highgate Hill, at the Archway junction of the A1. Since living in the area, I've completed this route many times and found whether I travel by foot, bus, car or wearily push my cycle up the steep incline that l always seem to see something different on my journey. A bonus to this journey is if it can be made at the beginning of an August's summer day…

My first thought is that I am crossing a boundary – in that I am leaving behind the modern and the utilitarian accommodation of transient London and heading off into a very slowly changing but more permanently rooted era. An initial signpost of this change may well be the tall gothic spires and high roofs of the now renamed Archway Campus, which still seems rooted in its original purpose of providing medical care. Or take the caged Whittington Stone, complete with perched cat on the pavement just before the modern Whittington Hospital, as a signpost. The statue itself is but a small 1935 tribute to commemorate the mayoral achievements of one Richard Whittington, but it talks of a shared history for London.

At the junction with Dartmouth Road, it could be said that apart from the volume and nature of road traffic nowadays, much of the surroundings are as they were at the turn of the 20th century, when London swallowed up villages like Highgate during its' suburban expansion. St Joseph's Roman Catholic Church and Retreat proudly stands on its 1888 roots and marks a good point to catch your breath and look back across London down towards the Millennium Dome and the southern cityscape. Cathedral in posture, its copper domes tower above the nearby Old Crown and the now defunct Presbyterian Church on Cromwell Avenue. From neighbours who have a longer association with the area I have heard stories of horses, their carriages and their drivers heading down the hill in unconventional styles, as their wheels and legs attempt to work their way across this busy crossing during snow and ice.

Along from St Joseph's is another landmark from that different era, Lauderdale House, which was renovated in 1893 to become a council operated venue. Nowadays it is a popular location for well attended weddings, craft fairs and views out across Waterlow Park – whilst the coffee could be better its' less busy nature is a welcome contrast. Facing Lauderdale is the imposing Northgate House with is walls struggling to support a large number of windows and the Ghana High Commission with its roof top cupola, arching lines and gated entrance.

The Channing Schools and the art deco Cholmeley Lodge welcome visitors into Highgate village proper and the high street. Local shops and businesses seem to stand their own corner against the undeservedly well located chain restaurants and ubiquitous estate agents !

Highgate becomes one of those weekend destinations that creaks at the seams during the Kenwood season or as people enjoy a summer day. One of my favourite aspects is that the 210 allows me to alight from the bus and almost walk directly through the front door of The Prince of Wales and to a very good pint, whatever the choice ! Other local recommendations include the frustratingly organised Highgate Bookshop, the Village Bistro and the precariously perched stall of Village Flowers.

To extend the search for views turn left into Hampstead Lane and proceed past the always green playing field of Highgate School and its' numerous red brick buildings. Once passed the faded blue sign of the mysterious Highgate Golf Club, you find yourself walking along under broad leaf trees to the entrances of The Iveagh Bequest at Kenwood – however rather than enter through the popular stables entrance, head towards the main gate. I found the simple pleasure of walking down the sweeping drive, towards the front of Kenwood House immensely appealing. This neo-classical house, remodelled during the 1760s to include an archetypal, stately frontage, was home to the 1st Earl of Mansfield…however it his heir, the 2nd Earl, that is to be thanked for commissioning Humphrey Repton's widely enjoyed landscaped garden. This pleasant perimeter of Hampstead Heath makes for a perfect spot from which to explore the 37 odd ponds, Parliament Hill and many superb vistas of the cities of London and Westminster. Depending on the day's clarity, attempt to locate Canary Wharf, the ever majestic St Paul's, the London Eye and the Telecomm Tower at the very least ! And remember that in spite of busy periods, the main Kenwood House makes itself available for excellent afternoon teas…

To prolong your pleasure, avoid the exclusive, brash wealth of the gated Compton, Courtenay and Bishops' avenues and follow Hampstead Lane further round the heath towards the still splendid Spaniards Inn and beyond towards Hampstead itself. For those that wish to return down back down the hill, the 210 can be caught from almost outside the main house and a pleasant journey can be drawn to a close in an unhurried manner !

Matthew is happy to be contacted by email chair@globetrotters.co.uk or at the monthly London meetings.

Having decided that my hair was in desperate need of some care and attention, I decided to be brave and try to get my hair done. The word for hairdresser in Portuguese is Cabeleleiro (and no, I still can't pronounce it properly) and because of that I decided to do the coward's way and go to El Cortes Ingles where I thought I could wing it. Well after prowling ladies underwear twice (very glamorous and quite a lot of men wandering around!), I approached an assistant and managed to make myself understood and she directed me to a very smart hairdressing salon.

Well the interesting thing was that not one of them spoke English so I found one who spoke French and the rest was down to sign language and pointing at pictures in magazines (I knew that word at least but as for tint, cut etc forget it). There is no appointment system apparently in this country, you turn up and just wait. I got there around 4.00 and left at 8.00!

I decided I was sick of being my wonderful three shades of red as it had gone a very strange colour in the sun so thought I would go back to blonde. This was indicated to the staff by pointing at an assistant with what I thought was a nice shade of blonde streak! You are given the usual gown but you have a pocket on the arm into which they put what treatment you are having i.e. cut, colour, manicure, pedicure etc.

The backwash is very high tech; the chair has a series of buttons on the inside of the chair arm which allows you to raise the lower part of the chair so you are practically lying down. All the women are beautifully turned out as you would expect and as it was all a bit of an adventure, I decided to go the whole hog and had a pedicure and manicure as well. This is quite entertaining as the manicurist follows you around whilst you are having your hair washed, cut, coloured etc. All in all it was a great experience and my hair looked brilliant as well as my nails. Cost-wise it was on a par with where I used to go in Bath, but it was a high class department store.

Some other interesting things about the city are the fact that the metro system is small and very efficient. It is also amazingly clean and considering the seven months of hell I had using the District Line, someone from LT should take a look. You never seem to wait more than five minutes for one either. The trams are good fun. The No.28 is one that does a circular trip and is very handy if you are down in town with a heavy bag – Lisbon is made up of seven hills and I live on one of them! The fare is 1 Euro! I got stuck in a tram jam the other week which as amusing as it means that no cars can get by as trams have right of way. There were four No.28s in a row. Before I got on it, I heard one of the old dears waiting at the bus stop saying that she had seen four No. 28s go the other way and none hers – reminiscent of the London bus problem.

I never fail to be amazed as how silly some of the tourists are over their personal safety here. When I was wandering around Feira da Ladra (Thieves Market held every Saturday and Tuesday), you spot them with rucksacks or big bags on their backs and it is so easy for pickpockets to lift wallets and purses from them in crowds. Women in particular seem to lose all common sense – they wear totally inappropriate outfits and cause great amusement when you see them bright red and staggering around in shoes suitable for premieres rather than sightseeing. There again men who are follically challenged really ought to wear hats!

We went to the outskirts of Sintra (Lord Byron thought it was wonderful – gardens, palaces etc etc) with a friend who has a car and investigated a garden centre. Now this was interesting. There were the usual pots etc but the plants were fascinating. Large bougainvilleas, lemon trees, lime trees, climbing roses, herbs etc. Some plants were the same as in the UK and others were new to me. I settled for pots (60p for terracotta 23″ ones!), some herbs, a climbing rose, something called a plumbago and an amazing large lavender. Inside it has the usual candles, pot pourri, plastic flowers etc – it's run by an Englishman apparently. After we had finished there, my friend took us to Sintra to try a tearoom. Everything in the tearoom was for sale, from the plates to the pictures. It was a very eclectic mix and had that “I think we should whisper” atmosphere that you find in posh tearooms like Castle Combe! Anyway they do a mean cream tea, which consists of three scones (warm), jam and cream, a piece of cake and a tea of your choice – excellent! Afterwards, to walk it all off, we wandered around Sintra.

Sintra was where the Portuguese Royal Family used to escape to in height of the summer heat. There are some amazing houses/villas as well as palaces on the top of mountains and in the main square. One of the palaces, the Pena, you sometimes see on tourist posters – it looks like something mad King Ludwig of Bavaria would have built. It's all different designs and colours and quite spectacular to get to.

I have got involved with a local theatre group – The Lisbon Players – via my Portuguese teacher. She invited Derek and I to go to a workshop on Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. It was a very entertaining evening and by the time we left, I had been asked if I would like to get more involved with them. I have now been made Stage Manager for the production as well as Task Force Director to help them raise funds and gain a higher profile.

They operate out of a lovely old theatre – Estrela Hall – that originally used to belong to the British Hospital. It has a certain faded glamour (dust) and does quite a few productions each year. We start work on the production in the next two weeks and then I shall be thoroughly occupied most Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Friday evenings with rehearsals all the way through to Christmas. Obviously it is unpaid but it means you meet new people, which is great. Shakespeare is very popular with the Portuguese and is on their education programmes so you get a good mix of audience.

Sally can be contacted by e-mail on: Sallypethybridge@aol.com should you wish to ask her any questions about Lisbon or Portugal in general.

I am an artist and one who, not surprisingly, is drawn (no pun intended) to the sun, the sea and a beautiful landscape. Now, obviously, you don't need to be an artist to appreciate those sorts of things. I, on the other hand, do like to make paintings of them and it is because of that I would like to speak of a group of islands that lie off the north coast of Sicily. They are called the Aeolian islands and there are seven of them, steeped in history and wound into the fabric of myth. That, as they say, is another story, for now I would like to explore briefly only two of the seven islands and the first of those is called Stomboli.

Arriving at a small jetty, a long beach of black volcanic sand stretches away to your right and the tangle of tiny streets of Stromboli village lie ahead. Jasmine and bougainvillaea ramble over the garden walls, the narrow lanes are lively with scooters and “ape” a type of tiny three wheeled truck. Walkers are there, kited out for the rocky paths to the volcano summit. Behind you the spiky outline of islets break the blue water.

It takes about an hour, walking along a pleasant road through fields, from the square in front of a pretty church, at the top of the village, to the lower slopes of the mountain. Another couple of hours on a steep but well-marked path brings you to the peak, 918 meters up and as you arrive the craters explode dramatically, shooting stones and hot ash high into the air. This happens every twenty minuets or so and it's quite safe as long as you stay on the paths, strong shoes are a good idea, the ground is hot. These regular explosions give rise to the term ” strombolic action ” which prevents pressure building up to a major eruption.

By day the view of the other islands is stunning. Particularly from the high ridge on the southern side. Night hikes with a guide, or a night boat trip to the north-eastern side of the island offer spectacular views of the red hot lava flows and fiery explosions.

From there you board the ferry and eventually arrive at Alicudi. On the map, if you've got one to hand, it is on the other end of the group, the most isolated and the next island that I would like to speak of. Uniquely car free, Alicudi is a near perfect cone, over six hundred meters high and only 2.5 kilometres across. The rugged slopes are covered with huge prickly pear cactus, gorse, carob, olive and wild apricot trees. Surprisingly, in times not long past, over a thousand people lived on this tiny island supporting themselves by growing their crops on narrow terraced fields.

Over the years that number has dwindled and the population is now only about one hundred and life is quiet. Mains electricity arrived no more than a decade ago and the major water supply is still rainfall, caught off roofs and collected in wells on the terrace of each house. It is charming and quaint.

Hawks and ravens wheel high above and bright green lizards dash away as you explore. The sea is very clean and rich with fish, shrimp and shellfish, and, so the locals tell me, ideal for snorkelling although I've never done it but, from the look of it, I could well imagine.

At night you can see the lights off Sicily's north coast, 20 kilometres away and on days when the haze has evaporated, about this time of year, the snow covered slopes of Mount Etna are visible, the black summit streaked with red lava. Colour seems to be the theme of these islands, it really is a painters paradise, so much so that you don't need to be a painter or an artist at all to appreciate it. The imagery around you is just so strong and peaceful at the same time, the countryside so unspoiled. It is just one of those places. I have painted in country that is beautiful to the eye but putting it down on paper can be very difficult. One finds ones self inventing, a bit of red here, a bit of yellow there, not because it's in front of your eyes but because the painting needs it and so you make it up. Alicudi and the other islands are not like that in the least, the place is there to paint. The hand runs riot along with the eye. To my mind, not only an easy place to paint but a pleasure and pure joy, if for nothing else but to just sit and look. A tiny little haven almost at the end of Europe.

Murray Hubick is Canadian, now living in Kent in the U.K. As an artist his time is divided between work in the studio, teaching art and as much travelling as possible. He is currently in the process of organising an art excursion to the islands for the coming Christmas/New year and would welcome anyone interested to join him in having an espresso overlooking the sea in the sun on New Years morning.

Murray is happy to answer any questions on Sicily, so please e-mail him on: murrayr@onetel.net.uk

The tourist season in Oslo starts around the middle of June and finishes in the middle of September. The 15^th of September, to be precise.

This means that going to Oslo in October is not such a great idea. The second mistake was not only visiting Oslo in October but also flying there with Ryanair. A very bad move as Ryanair lands in Torp, some 100km away from Oslo where there is only a Ryanair bus to take you the 2 hour journey into Oslo. Torp airport is small, very small, the size if Cork perhaps (another Ryanair destination in Ireland) and there is little to do when your flight is delayed or waiting for luggage. There is also little tourist info at Torp.

By October, Oslo is beginning to be cold. The first day of the Beetle weekend, temperatures were around 6^OC and the next day it snowed. If you don't do cold, this is not the time and place for you. Take a hat, gloves and a scarf, plus a warm coat and good walking shoes.

OK, what is there to see: well, the “attractions” consist mainly of walking around the town (it's small), seeing the royal palace, the university, the Parliament building, the town hall, visiting the Arkhus Castle, taking boat trips, (summer months only), and visiting the 20 or so museums, none of which have free entrance. That is Oslo in a nutshell. You will not want to eat, have coffee or go shopping – it is so prohibitively expensive! Also, the shops are closed on Sundays and the museums have shorter opening times so that after about 3pm, on a Sunday, in Oslo, there is very little to do – so book your return flight for the late afternoon!

Spending more than a weekend in Oslo might necessitate considering your finances, maybe a second mortgage: it is breathtakingly expensive – about 50- 100% more than central London prices!

The next mistake was to buy an Oslo card. The Beetle could only find one guidebook in the whole of Stamfords, (the most wonderful travel bookshop on this earth – funny, that …), but both the guidebook and the local literature, of which there was plenty (thanks goodness!) all said that we should buy an Oslo card and this would entitle us to free entrance to all of the museums and local transport.

A 2 day Oslo pass costs around £25 or $40 per person. This allows the holder free entrance into all Oslo museums and free transport around the city. As museum entrance only costs around £2.50 or $4, it became a challenge to visit as many museums as possible in order to get our money's worth! However, our vfm did not take into account public transport – when we added in the cost of a day ticket for the bus, train and tram, (£5 or $8) we just broke even.

The Kon-Tiki museum is disappointing: small, amateurish with bizarre exhibits including polystyrene sharks. Very odd. The Fram museum was one of the better ones: a small-ish A frame building, built around the original early 20^th century ship used by Amundson and others in voyages to Antartica. The Viking museum houses 3 10^th century long boats and even if you are a Viking buff, it'll take you about 20 minutes. The Museum if the Inquisition was plain upsetting. The Beetle's fave place was Viegland Park, a park a short tram ride out of town with a collection of sculptures and statues. The Oslo city museum was dire; about a third of the exhibits were labelled in Norwegian only! The ski Museum is one of the most expensive museums to get into – entrance fee around £7 or $11 but you get to go up to the top of the old Olympic ski jump. We had to go there to get value for money and also take in the views of the city!

The transport system is excellent, frequent, clean, modern and fast. There were many fast food outlets – Kentucky, Burger King, McDonalds – when you see the prices in the restaurants, you can start to understand why. Eat well at your hotel by stocking up on the buffet breakfasts is the Beetle's advice! The people were friendly enough, but compared to the last Beetle visit, an embarrassing 15 years ago, the city was surprisingly dirty, the walls had graffiti sprayed on, and there were a few people begging on the street – not at all the clean Scandinavian image the Beetle had imagined, but then it is a capital city and perhaps nowhere is exempt from these problems.

If you want to visit Oslo – go in the summer months! Then you can take boat trips and visit the fjords. For more info on Oslo, contact the Beetle on: Beetle@globetrotters.co.uk