Happy Shiney Island

One of the UK's funniest new breed of travel writers, Bernie Friend, releases his debut book, Cycling Back to Happiness, on April 28, 2008.

In it he describes his adventures along the torturous North Sea Cycle Route a coastal cycle route of 6,000 kilometres which takes in the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Scotland and England.

In this first instalment he discovers the city of Texel or "Little Holland" as it is known locally....

Texel was granted city rights in 1415 and is dubbed ‘Little Holland’ because the islanders believe you can find anything and everything from the mainland here.

A Utopian feeling flowed around the place and everybody walked about wearing standard issue broad smiles as if they had been pumped full of cheerful pills.

I wasn’t used to such overwhelming friendliness and it was odd to be greeted so enthusiastically by complete strangers at the turn of every street corner.

Den Burg could have been a testing station for a top secret happy gas mixed up in experimental government laboratories. God, it was so much simpler at home being miserable and glum, plodding the roads with your head down as if you were the only person alive.

It was hard work moulding my face into a convincing smile and returning complimentaries every few minutes. People weren’t this nice at home. What was going on?

Texel’s happiness patrol is born out of healthy living, relaxing countryside and an infectious community spirit where neighbours really do become good friends. Eat your heart out Ramsay Street! The crime rate on the island is zilch.

It only soars to the heights of a microscopic pimple on the redundant police graph sheet if some dodgy tourist rips through the harmony barrier by stuffing a carrot or radish in their pocket.

And in winter, front doors are left wide open for other islanders to walk in off the street and make themselves a warming cup of coffee. People have been shot for asking for a cup of sugar in Moss Side or South London.

The island claims to have the cleanest air in the Netherlands, as well as attracting the most hours of sun. It has always drawn in working artists and writers spellbound by its natural charms.

The chilled out atmosphere was also popular with hippy communes in the 60s, who came here to get spaced out of their minds in peace. And it must have filtered down the generations through the genes as the class of 2007 children readily admit they enjoy going to school without any form of financial bribe engineering such an outrageous statement.

Den Burg itself was an attractive village of two-storey thatched, flat fronted houses (the conservation friendly council won’t rubberstamp anything higher) and cobbled streets that encircle the surprisingly hectic shopping lanes.

These narrow streets lean right over, nearly high fiving each other, with the stores below stocking everything from pink Converse trainers to plastic sheep (really not needed here) and rolls of thick carpet.

There was even a cinema cramped in somewhere.

The focal point of Den Burg was the Hervormoe Kerk church, which was visible from miles outside of the village, despite nestling snugly right at its heart.

But it was pottering around the small hemmed-in stores, bakeries and grocers which drew in the punters and kept their euros on the island.

Boxes of bright, pumped-up fruit and vegetables brimmed over everywhere. And there were all shapes and sizes of hams, sausages and salamis, plus wooden racks of rounded cheese slabs which wouldn’t have been out of place flying down an Olympic curling lane.

The nostril seeking smells of cakes, pastries and warm breads breaking free from the bakeries is enough to drive you mad and the multiple choice of beer on offer could turn the most tea-total disciple into a taste-testing alcoholic.

But good old England still had an ace up its sleeve and a poke in the eye for these island dwelling infidels. When it came to crisps we were still well on top. Forget your model fruit and veg, cracking cheeses and super salamis Texel, because when it comes to savoury snacks you were just downright rubbish.

Row upon row of paprika, salted and cheese flavoured crisps just wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that some of them were cone shaped, like chip sticks or waffles. Where was prawn cocktail, Worcester sauce and smoky bacon on the menu? You didn’t even have a box of salt and vinegar Pringles. Bloody amateurs!

Cycling Back to Happiness is published by Pen Press. It is available to buy and order from all European book stores, or across the world from Amazon.co.uk or from his own website.