THIS HOLIDAT BLOG IS BEING written entirely retrospectively, starting several days after our return. We had no Internet access for most of the trip, and have been busy and tired since getting back. But we had the most wonderful time (again), and want to share it with the world!
Our trip took us through five countries in ten days: England to Wales to Ireland to Northern Ireland to Scotland, and so back to England and home. But it started with Don already away from home, running training in Manchester. On the Friday, first day of August and last day of the course, Margaret left work mid-morning (about 10:40) and drove the 190 miles to Glossop in Derbyshire (more precisely, Hadfield). She now has quite a large collection of cross-stitch patterns (as well as the completed cross-stitches), souvenirs of places we’ve been and things we’ve seen, and wanted some coloured embroidery canvases for future use.
Hadfield’s only about 10 miles from where Don’s course was, but the road took Margaret into one of those dreaded one-way systems where you can’t get where you need to and wind up lost. She left Hadfield about 3:30, but didn’t get to the Manchester venue until about 5:10!
We loaded Don’s stuff in the back of the car, took a loo break, and drove down to Anglesey, another 100-odd miles. We were due on the ferry from Holyhead the next day, and were going to stay in a North Wales hotel overnight; but first: we had to visit
Our trip took us through five countries in ten days: England to Wales to Ireland to Northern Ireland to Scotland, and so back to England and home. But it started with Don already away from home, running training in Manchester. On the Friday, first day of August and last day of the course, Margaret left work mid-morning (about 10:40) and drove the 190 miles to Glossop in Derbyshire (more precisely, Hadfield). She now has quite a large collection of cross-stitch patterns (as well as the completed cross-stitches), souvenirs of places we’ve been and things we’ve seen, and wanted some coloured embroidery canvases for future use.
Hadfield’s only about 10 miles from where Don’s course was, but the road took Margaret into one of those dreaded one-way systems where you can’t get where you need to and wind up lost. She left Hadfield about 3:30, but didn’t get to the Manchester venue until about 5:10!
We loaded Don’s stuff in the back of the car, took a loo break, and drove down to Anglesey, another 100-odd miles. We were due on the ferry from Holyhead the next day, and were going to stay in a North Wales hotel overnight; but first: we had to visit
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantisiliogogoch!
It was around 7:15 p.m., and not dark, but the village was closing down for the night. We visited and photographed the railway station (now a souvenir shop, though the station is still working), and the platform, which has a handy (approximate) pronunciation guide for those a bit challenged by Welsh spelling; but we’ve adjusted it a little to make it even easier:
Llan-vire-pooll-guin-gill-gog-air-uh-quern-drob-ooll-llandus-ilio-go-go-gock
(Of course, you need the Welsh “ll”. And the “q” and “ck” are really Scottish-style “ch” sounds.)
Wherever we go, we need those fridge magnets so that we know where we’ve been!—but the souvenir shops were all closed, so we went down instead to the little Church of St Mary (“Llan fair”) in the hollow of white hazels (“pwll gwyn gyll”) near the rapid
whirlpool (“goger y chwryn drobwll”) by St Tysilio’s (“Llan tysilio”) of the red cave (“gogo goch”), which lies (St Mary’s) down a lane at the edge of the village. The village itself was originally named “Pwllgwyngyll”; the rest was added in the 1860s by a local tailor (or cobbler) as a publicity stunt, to form the longest railway station name in the world. (There’s a longer one still, also in Wales—Gorsafawddachaidraigodanheddogleddollonpenrhynareurdraethceredigion—, but everyone ignores it because it’s just a copycat attempt to get into the Guinness book of records!) Llanfair(etc.)gogogoch.com is also the world’s longest Internet domain name.
(We didn’t see the red cave, or the whirlpool, or any white hazels, come to that.)
Back up in the village, we went to Tafarn Tŷ Gwyn (“White House Tavern”) for dinner, which was good-enough pub food (certainly value for money).
Then we drove back over the Menai Straits (Britannia Bridge), west through Caernarvon, and to a tiny village called Llanwnda (“Llan-oonda”), where we got a little lost before finding The Stables Hotel and Restaurant.
The accommodation was one in a row of (presumably) former stables, each suite named after a racecourse. Unfortunately, our first suite proved to have a leak in the bathroom, but the staff moved us quickly to the next suite along (which was closer to the car, actually), and there we passed a comfortable night.
It was around 7:15 p.m., and not dark, but the village was closing down for the night. We visited and photographed the railway station (now a souvenir shop, though the station is still working), and the platform, which has a handy (approximate) pronunciation guide for those a bit challenged by Welsh spelling; but we’ve adjusted it a little to make it even easier:Llan-vire-pooll-guin-gill-gog-air-uh-quern-drob-ooll-llandus-ilio-go-go-gock
(Of course, you need the Welsh “ll”. And the “q” and “ck” are really Scottish-style “ch” sounds.)
Wherever we go, we need those fridge magnets so that we know where we’ve been!—but the souvenir shops were all closed, so we went down instead to the little Church of St Mary (“Llan fair”) in the hollow of white hazels (“pwll gwyn gyll”) near the rapid
whirlpool (“goger y chwryn drobwll”) by St Tysilio’s (“Llan tysilio”) of the red cave (“gogo goch”), which lies (St Mary’s) down a lane at the edge of the village. The village itself was originally named “Pwllgwyngyll”; the rest was added in the 1860s by a local tailor (or cobbler) as a publicity stunt, to form the longest railway station name in the world. (There’s a longer one still, also in Wales—Gorsafawddachaidraigodanheddogleddollonpenrhynareurdraethceredigion—, but everyone ignores it because it’s just a copycat attempt to get into the Guinness book of records!) Llanfair(etc.)gogogoch.com is also the world’s longest Internet domain name.
(We didn’t see the red cave, or the whirlpool, or any white hazels, come to that.)
Back up in the village, we went to Tafarn Tŷ Gwyn (“White House Tavern”) for dinner, which was good-enough pub food (certainly value for money).
Then we drove back over the Menai Straits (Britannia Bridge), west through Caernarvon, and to a tiny village called Llanwnda (“Llan-oonda”), where we got a little lost before finding The Stables Hotel and Restaurant.The accommodation was one in a row of (presumably) former stables, each suite named after a racecourse. Unfortunately, our first suite proved to have a leak in the bathroom, but the staff moved us quickly to the next suite along (which was closer to the car, actually), and there we passed a comfortable night.
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