Legends from our own lunchtimes

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Frank and Gil always seem to go out of their way to set an itinerary which involves castles and wildlife and tea and cake and dinner and a rollicking good time all rolled into a single day, and it was with assurances that the further west we travelled, the less bleak the day would be, that we rolled out beyond the border and into Wales itself.

Only yesterday we had remarked at how we feel quite attracted to travel in that country. We weren't sure whether it was because we'd been talking about our Welsh heritage or not, but we do rather like the bleakness of it all, and of course the spelling of words without vowels or syllables and with more double L's and W's than in my own middle name.

After crawling over Conwy Castle there's no doubt that our sympathies were with Llewellyn (after all I was named for him), and the English could rot in their stupid castle for all we cared. Perhaps when my UK passport is issued I shall run for the Welsh parliament and do my bit to support the succession push. That would be doing something for all my forebears perhaps.

Over still more tea and cake mid afternoon those thoughts began to fade just a little, and by the time we'd wandered along a few beaches with names that were improbable and dined in a pub named with what was left of the alphabet after the beaches were named, all thoughts of succession were lost for the time being at least.  Each time we wander through a building which can tell stories for six or seven centuries or more before Australia had been invented, we cannot escape a subsequent period of reflection.

Why is it, we wonder, that the sky actually looks as old as the buildings it hovers over.

After just two more sleeps and we'll be under a young sky once more, trying desperately to hold on to some of the memories of today.

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