Wells

The Cathedral at Wells

After getting all our mundane Saturday morning chores done, the three of us set off for Wells.  Wells gets its name from the many springs in the area, which in the Middle Ages, were thought to have curative powers. The town was originally a Roman settlement but only became important under the Saxons when King Ine of Wessex founded a minster church here in AD 704.

We arrived shortly after one to the ringing of a carillion from the cathedral bells and walked into the City Centre where the weekly market was in full swing in front of the cathedral. A medium size crowd of shoppers were leisurely making their way around all the stalls.

I can't imagine a lovelier, more historic setting for a market than at Wells. For 800 years the market has stood on almost the same site in the ancient market place, overlooked by the splendour of the ancient cathedral. Wells holds twice weekly markets in the market place (Saturday's and Wednesdays). You can buy a wide range of goods from clothes and jewellery to organic vegetables, plants and olives.

It was in the Wells market place in 1695, that the quaker, William Penn the founder of Pennsylvania preached to a huge crowd. He was arrested for unlawful assembly, only to return some weeks later to continue his crusade. 

 After a very nice lunch at an Italian Bistro type cafe called Ricardo's, seated outside on the sidewalk and being entertained by a pan piper who was playing from a doorway across the street, we briefly joined the shoppers.

Jenny, Bob and Emily

There were wonderful cheeses, and home made chutneys, relishes and jams for sale, needle work stalls that sold both supplies and completed craft projects, the proverbial jewelry, CD's, Video stalls and one stall that sold only boot laces. More lengths, colors, widths than I ever imagined existed. Apparently there is a great demand for bootlaces in Somerset. And last, but not least, at least 6 used bookstalls. I am ashamed to admit this but I was so fascinated by the cathedral and itching to go inside so I spared hardly a glance at the bookstalls. This has to be some kind of a first for me. 

The cathedral was just awesome. It is, in my opinion the most beautiful cathedral in Britain and one of it's best kept secrets.  The structure as it stands today was started in 1180 by Bishop Reginald de Bolun who pulled down the old Cathedral (circa 705!) and began building the current one. He was only responsible for the transepts, parts of the choir and nave and the north porch. His successors completed the project which took 250 years. Before 705 A shrine of some sort existed here long before Christianity came. Over the years it has been built up, torn down, and partially blown up (1552 during the Reformation).  It has survived throughout the years dignity intact. As soon as you walk inside you know you are in a place of worship.  It is one of the few cathedrals that has resisted being comercialized and turned into a tourist attraction like Salisbury. 

The Cathedral Garden

Bob opted to sit on a bench in the very lovely and peaceful garden behind the cathedral. The garden was very much a place where people just came to relax. There was one lady napping on a bench, a couple on the other side was having a very quiet row, (that's an argument to us) and two ladies with toddlers who were visiting with each other while the tots played. So peaceful and beautiful.

The cathedral clock
that has chimed every quarter hour
 without fail for the last 650 

Inside Jenny and I wandered, mouths almost hanging open at all the sheer splendor. We read inscriptions of some of the dignitary's buried under the floor, peeked into all the small chapels that ring the nave and stopped and watched the clock in the north transept ring the hour. A figure of a bearded man in red (Jack Blandiver, whoever he was) sitting above and to the right of the clock, rings the clock's bells with hands hammering and feet kicking. A mini-castle is immediately over the dial. Four mounted knights come out. Two move to the left, the other two go right. They revolve and at each revolution one knight is knocked backwards on his horse. This happens several times and then the tournament is over for another quarter of an hour. According to one of the guides, this has happened without interruption every fifteen minutes for the last 650 years.

Outside and to the right was the ruins of the old Bishops Palace which are still ringed by a real, honest to goodness moat, complete with swans.

After we exhausted ourselves drinking in all the splendor we had a brief cup of tea. Under one of the archway's leading into the cathedral there is a sign that read "poor arch". Since the building of the cathedral this is a spot has been set aside for beggars. A Busker (street performer) was playing his

guitar and singing much to everyone's dismay. He was so awful it's impossible to describe. We quickly drank our tea and moved on. 


All of these pictures were taken by myself in the summer of 2003

The North of Scotland, Autumn 2001

On Tuesday night Nicky and I went to Cardross to Rhona and Iaine's house for dinner. I have known Rhona since she was a little bitty girl as she and Nicky have been close friends since 2nd grade. Nicky has known Iaine the same length of time but he was a year behind her and Rhona in school.

Cardross is a lovely little village that has apparently been a settlement on the banks of the Clyde since the beginning of time. It is believed that Robert the Bruce died here from leprosy in 1329. The picture is of Kirkton Chapel, a 12th century chapel which is one of the oldest religious sites in the area. The chapel is dedicated to St Mathew who is said to have lived before the time of St Columba. The simple much restored chapel was rebuilt in 1467 and was used as a school after the Reformation until the mid 19th century. It then fell into decay but was restored by the Roman Catholic Church and rededicated in 1955. While restoration work was being done part of a standing stone bearing an inscribed cross was unearthed. This has been attributed to the earliest Christian period. The stone has been re-erected in the vestibule of the chapel. Some ancient tombstones can still be seen in the ground.

Cardross

I learned that another interesting ruin that I have been admiring for years as we zipped back and forth through Cardross does not in fact date back to Robert the Bruce as I had assumed but only goes back to WWII, as a ruin that is. Obviously I am not very good at dating ruins! Rhona informed me that it was the village church and was hit by a bomb. Clydebank is just down the road and because of the ship yards there it was heavily bombed. Sometimes the Germans would dump left over bombs that somehow didn't release over the target indiscriminately and on one particular occasion they got the village church. I guess the village just let the ruin stand because in a country dotted with picturesque ruins they didn't feel the need to tear it down and put something modern and ugly in its place. Besides there are lots of graves surrounding it so I suppose that was a factor as well.

On Wednesday morning Nicky and I loaded up and headed out for "The North.” That's what the signs on the Motor Way coming to Scotland say. Just "The North." I love it. No messing around with fancy highway signs, just straight and to the point. We didn't get a very early start as this branch of the family doesn't do mornings all that well, but by 11 a.m. we were finally on the road.

Glen Coe

We took the A82 along the entire length of Loch Lomand, past Loch Tulla and Loch Ba and through Glen Coe. It was such a beautiful drive, through Luss, Tarbet and Ardlui but when we got to Glen Coe it not only took my breath away, it almost brought tears to my eyes it was so achingly beautiful. It's one of those places like Culoodon and Stonehenge. You can just feel the history of the place all around you. Of course it doesn't help that the weather can be particularly broody there. We were right in the heart of the Grampian Mountains and the west of Scotland gets so much rain that there are almost always low clouds brushing the peaks and the glens stay misty a lot so it all combines to give off a sense of drama. Whatever it is, I am always moved almost to tears in Glen Coe.

Nicky Loch Ness

So, onward then up the road that borders Loch Linne, through Ft. William and then the A87 cut off at Glengarry toward the Kyles of Lochalsh. I can only repeat myself and say over and over how beautiful it all is. We passed Loch Lockey which I always like the sound of as it's spoken. Loch Lockey...has kind of a ring to it, don't you think? Along the A87 between Loch Claunie and Loch Duich a small river cavorted along beside the road. It darted back and forth under the road, first on one side, then the other, ducked into a natural rock tunnel beside the road, then jumped down a couple of small waterfalls, and as a grande finale turned into a miniature roaring rapids. When it finally reached the bottom of the hill, with a soft gurgle and a happy sigh, it gently emptied its self into Loch Duich.

At Dorney we stopped at Eilean Donan Castle and had a cup of tea in the tea room, took a couple of pictures and decided to head back toward Inverness. It was getting late in the afternoon and the rain that had been spitting down on us all day decided to get serious, thereby limiting our viability. One bonus that came with the on again, off again rain was that we almost always had a rainbow somewhere in line of vision for the whole trip. It followed us around so persistently that Nicky and I started to wonder if Jim had decided to come along with us. (Surely you have all heard my rainbow story at least two or three times by now).

Inverness

It was right at dark when we got to Inverness so we decided to return the next by the say route except for cutting off to the Kyle of Lochalsh. We checked into the B&B which was clean, convenient and had a comfortable bed. Down along the river front we spotted an Irish Pub called Johnny Foxes and decided to settle for pub grub for dinner. Well, that turned out to be not much of a "settling for" situation. We had steamed mussels, rib eye steaks with some kind of out of this world whiskey sauce, accompanied by a salad that was in actuality a chef's salad and topped it off with a Café Mocha. We could barely make it back to the B&B!

The next morning we did a quick wander around Inverness, checked out the Victorian Market and this time headed toward "The South" along Loch Ness. It was a glorious morning but the sun was so bright it almost blinded me. Nicky says that it's because this far north the sun is so low that it aims its self right into your eyes. I'll buy that I guess.

Fort William

We stopped in Ft. William this time and wandered around the town center, took a few pictures and I bought myself a real dorkey hat. Nicky couldn't believe I would actually wear it out in public but I love it! She kept walking a little to the front of me like she had never seen me before in her life, laughing and shaking her head in one of those "Grandma's really lost it this time" kind of ways.

The Drover's Inn

Our gorgeous morning suddenly left and the weather sulked and brooded all the way through Glen Coe. We stopped for a late lunch at The Drovers Inn in Ardlui, just at the head of Loch Lomand. It was established in 1705 and probably hasn't had a good cleaning since. There was a brass (I think it was brass) salmon over the huge fireplace in the main bar that has apparently been being smoked for the last 297 years. We had steak pie, chips and veggies. We remarked that this is seemingly our week for pigging out on red meat.

We arrived back in Dumbarton tired by happy and the odometer on Nicky's car said that we had traveled 401 miles.

Tomorrow I am going into Edinburgh with Joanne. Nicky is going to go around a pick up the kids from school so that Joanne and I can have a one-on-one day. We are going to take the train from here as parking in Edinburgh is a nightmare. Then the next day we are all going into Glasgow to the Barrows, the huge flea market. I need to by a bigger suitcase!

Stratford, Autumn 2001

I set off on my grand adventure bright and early on Thursday by first catching the city bus down to the City Centre where I transferred to a Rail Link bus that took me to Bristol Temple Meade Station. I am getting quite proficient at finding my way around via public transportation. Bristol was a little daunting to me at first because it's a large, cosmopolitan, very  European city, but I just sucked it up, ventured off and discovered it's no problem at all. Whenever I'm not sure I just ask someone and people are extremely helpful at pointing you in the right direction. I had to change trains AND train stations at Birmingham and found that once again the phrase "short walk" is strictly a relative term. What a Brit considers just a "short walk" is what I consider a "rather long walk." But I made it, through a construction zone, up a flight of steps, through a shopping mall, down another long flight of steps
across a busy street in plenty of time to catch my breath before my train to Stratford came screeching in.


I arrived about 1:30 p.m., took a cab from the station in Stratford to my B&B, checked in, deposited my overnight case and set off on foot to explore. The entire downtown area of Stratford was being turned into a carnival, complete with large rides and about a thousand (that may be a very slight exaggeration) food stalls and game booths. They were setting up for the 805th Annual Mop Fair.

 I found this on the web and think it's worth the trouble

of copying so here goes: "For centuries Statford-upon-Avon was the place for a hiring fair, to which farmers, tradesman and householders came to meet and engage their servants for the coming year. It was customary for those wishing to be hired to indicate their trade, e.g., carters and wagoners wore a piece of whipcord twisted round their hats, thatchers a fragment of woven straw and shepherds held their sheep-crooks. The custom continues to this day, with the Stratford Mop being amongst the biggest, brightest and busiest in the Midlands, occupying the length of Bridge Street, High Street, Wood Street, Rother Street, Greenhill Street and Meer Street.

A special tradition is that after The Worshipful the Mayor has read the customary Proclamation at Market Cross, the Master of the Mop escorts the civic party on an inspection of the fair - and on whatever ride The Worshipful the Mayor goes (attended, of course, by the Beadle, Macebearers and Town Clerk in full ceremonial dress) all children from the town may go free of charge for that morning. The proclamation reads: We do enjoin all whether ye be townspeople of the town or strangers from other parts and places, that your behavior be seemly at all times and in all respects, that ye bear goodwill towards one another and ill will towards none, that ye spend this day of merrymaking and frolic to that recollections on the morrow may be without regrets or repinings.
And we do further ordain that on this day ye shall have full liberty and licence so desiring to remain in the fair until the stroke of midnight, whereupon at that time, and no later, we do strictly enjoin your quietly and peaceably to return unto your dwellings, having proper regard to the comfort and happiness of friends and neighbors who may be within their abodes. On the Friday week following the Mop comes traditionally the Runaway Mop, a smaller version of the original hiring fair at which those who were ill-suited to their new employment may seek another employer" Now, wasn't that an interesting bit of trivia? And wasn't it nice of Stratford-upon-Avon in the year 1196 to schedule this fair to exactly coincide with my anticipated visit?  So, you can see I had plenty to look at.

After grabbing a sandwich and a cup of coffee, I trudged back to my B&B in a light misting rain to get ready for the performance of Twelfth Night. This production apparently got rave reviews when it opened, and they were, IMO, well deserved. There were several stars, but Guy Henry, the actor who played Malvolio was absolutely wonderful. The show was sold out and my seat was in row H in the circle off to the far left. I was a little worried about it but when I got there I discovered that the way the theater was designed, there wasn't a bad seat in the house. When the performance was over, I was still floating on my happy cloud, the rain had stopped and I walked back through deserted, dark and misty streets, past all the old Elizabethan houses, transported me right back too sometime in the 1500's. For an old lady like me to walk alone at that time of night may not  the smartest thing to do, but I just couldn't spoil the mood by thinking about practical stuff like muggers and things. Anyway, a highwayman shouting "Stand and Deliver" was what my imagination was running to and who can be afraid of an imaginary  man in tight pants, a ruffle around his neck and an ostrich feather in his hat?

The next morning the weather was just glorious. Reams and reams have been written about the British weather and everyone has their own feelings about it. Personally I think it fits in the manic-depressive category. It's either stormy, brooding, or sulking, spitting rain at you or as I have heard it put pretty succinctly in Scotland, pissing down on you. Then it suddenly gets over it, and the sun comes out and gives you a day so beautiful it takes your breath away. That's the kind of morning I woke up to. Leaving my overnight case at the B&B to be collected later, I set off once again on foot down to the river Avon. Again it was like being on pages of some book. I bought myself a cup of tea at a corner shop and carried it down to the river and sat down on a bench and just enjoyed! It was so peaceful. A couple of scullers rowed past, inconveniencing the swans and ducks who had to break out of their lazy drift and swim out of their way. There was a young lady riding down the pathway along the side of them shouting instructions to them so I assumed she was a

coach and not just a pushy passerby

There was not much point in trying to see all the downtown Shakespeare tourist places since the Mop Fair was going full blast and all the streets were closed so bought myself a ticket on the green and cream tour bus that gave me a lovely tour of everyplace notable, I was assured, except right down in the City Centre.  Afterwards I just wandered through the Fair, browsed the bookshops, window shopped, and bought postcards until it was time to walk back to the B&B, collect my suitcase and call for a cab to get me back to the train station.

 I checked with the ticket agent to see if there was any possible way to avoid the Birmingham mess and he suggested I catch a slightly earlier train that took me though Oxford instead. It was better way to go. The change in Oxford was merely getting off, standing still for about four minutes and getting on the next train which stopped in the same spot for Bristol Temple Meade. Piece of cake.
I sat behind a couple of really pretty girls who were sitting in seats that face each other. I could see them plainly in their reflections in the window. The one who was also facing me, (in the reflection) spend most of the entire trip fooling around with her face. Apparently her looks are really high maintenance. She plucked her eyebrows...twice. I thought about Kathy's remark about people who do things to themselves in public and really wished she was with me on. She would have a lot to remark on, let me tell you. The girl put on make up, fiddled with her lipstick, took it off, put it back on, and so on and so on. A good looking young man got on a couple of stops down the line and although there was a bunch of empty seats in the carriage, sat down beside the girls. Then he managed to lean back and put on such a marvelous bored expression on his face that you just knew he had been practicing it in front of the bathroom mirror, glancing briefly through slitted eyes at the girls every few seconds. It's such fun to watch young people and their mating rituals.

 Arrived back in Bristol, safe and sound and after some good nights sleep I was ready to hit the roadways and footpaths once again. I am staying until November 3rd if my airline is still flying by then. If it's not, I will have to call Cunard and ask them what their plan B is for getting me home.

Aboard the Queen Elizabeth 2

Making a transatlantic voyage aboard an ocean liner was the dream of a lifetime for me. It was also my first time aboard a cruise ship so I had no idea what to expect. Let me tell you, I could get used to traveling this way. I had a wonderful time the entire five days and six nights aboard the QE2 for the journey from Boston to Southhampton. Since I was traveling in the least expensive accommodations available, my cabin was, as expected very small. But it was also very comfortable. Especially the bed. I had no trouble sleeping at night. Every night you hung a little menu on your doorknob with your breakfast selections checked off, along with the time you wanted it, and in the morning a steward would come tapping on your door with your breakfast. There was a convenient let down tray above your bed so you could comfortably have your breakfast in bed.

 The crossing was very calm and I didn't experience even the slightest motion sickness. The ship set all their clocks back every night was we steamed across time zones so I had to remember to set my watch every evening. This is the ideal way to avoid jet lag. I never even noticed that I was losing an hour every day.

On day one the first thing I did was search out a place to send an e-mail to the member's of my reading group to thank them for the beautiful flowers that were waiting for me in my cabin. On one of the upper decks I found a Computer Learning Center where for an exorbitant fee you could sign onto the internet. The second thing I did was to search out the SPA and make an appointment for a massage. I was stiff and sore all over from traveling for 18 hours the day before. While I was there the lady talked me into having some kind of treatment where they smear green slimy stuff all over you. It's supposed to remove all the toxins from your body. I thought "what the heck, I'll try anything once" but I think I got more out of the massage and a good nights sleep than by having all my toxins removed.

By the second day I was feeling revived enough to go exploring to see just what this ship had to offer. Map in hand I started as high up as I could go and worked my way down. There is a moderately well stocked library on the Quarter deck for those who want to spend their time relaxing with a good book, or further aft there is a Casino and Bar. In fact, there are a lot of bars on the QE2. They even have a movie theatre on board showing current movies. I kept meaning to go see one but kept getting distracted by more interesting things like watching for dolphins and passing ships.

The food and service was excellent and every crew member that you met greeted you with a smile. But I also have to be honest and say that the ship is defiantly showing it's age and I would describe it as "shabby genteel." The upholstery throughout is wearing thin, the upholstered chairs in the lounge areas feel like they have been sat in a few times too many and outside decks and deck chairs are weather beaten and you kind of worry about getting splinters in your bum. Someone said that after the first of the year it's due into the yards for a major face lift and I think that if Cunard wants to keep this ship competitive it will have to do that.

The Lido Grill was the place to go for lunch. Much less formal than the Mauritania you could find sustenance there 24 hours a day. I met some very nice people aboard and spent a good deal of time sitting in the easy chairs grouped around the windows on either One Deck or the Quarter Deck chatting with other passengers. According to the captain we took the northerly route across. It was a little chilly in the evenings out on the deck but during the day, especially in the stern where you were out of the wind. It was lovely and sunny every afternoon. The waiters served tea outside to the passengers who were lounging on deck. The very lap of luxury.

For reasons that were never explained, the Opera Company that was the scheduled entertainment did not make the trip. I imagine that it had everything to do with the recent terrorist attack in New York. The resulting entertainment was pretty obviously very patched together while some of the entertainers were very good, some were only so-so. There was an Illusionist with only three tricks who tried to fill in the gaps between as a stand-up comedian, and group of ten singers and dancers who did Broadway show tunes who were very good, and a comedy dance team who where not in the slightest bit funny but were wonderful dancers. But I think that Cunard did the best they could under very trying circumstances. They really made a heroic effort to collect all their scattered passengers and get them to Boston and aboard the ship. They deserve a lot of credit.

The shops were fun to browse in, as in it's fun to see how the other half shop. Everything was entirely out of my price range. There is even a branch of Harrods. I looked to see if they had any shopping bags like the ones I bought in Harrod's Knightsbridge store the last time I was over for me and Marianne but they didn't carry them. Tee shirts were $59.99 so I probably couldn't have afforded a shopping bag anyway. On the last day they had a little "sidewalk" sale outside the jewelry shop and dinner rings for ladies were marked down to a mere $1500 or so. Sheesh! I did see a sequined top almost exactly like the one I bought off the clearance rack in J.C. Penny's for this cruise on sale for $300. That made me feel much better about the $29.95 I paid for mine.

Dinner each evening....Ah Dinner! The restaurant I was assigned to for dinner was the Mauritania. Restaurant seating is assigned according to your cabin class, but the food is identical in all of the restaurant and was truly excellent. Monday I did not make the formal sitting as I had scheduled a massage at 4 p.m. and by the time it was finished I was too relaxed to bother getting all dressed up. I slept through Dinner on Tuesday, but Wednesday, Thurs. and Fri. I got myself all gussied up and showed up in the dining room on time. Wednesday it was rack of lamb, with prawn and asparagus in rosemary sauce for starters, Thursday we had Beef Wellington with some other kind of prawn starter, and Friday night we had Roast Beef w/Yorkshire Pudding. I had a berry soup that was out of this world. The Yorkshire Pudding was the only thing on the entire trip that I wasn't impressed with. Bob makes much better Yorkshire Pudding than the QE2 Chef does. But the Roast Beef was grand.

Everyone rolled out of bed early on Saturday morning as the ship docked at Southampton at 6:30 a.m. Customs had set up in the Queen's Lounge on One Deck for all the non UK citizens and we all got our passports stamped and then waiting around until about 9 a.m. when they had all the luggage ashore. There was no customs inspection of baggage. Probably decided that after the careful scrutiny everyone's suitcases got in Boston they would give people a break. So, while I was a tiny bit sad that the trip was over, I was looking forward to seeing everybody and getting on with the rest of my trip.

Wales - Autumn 2001

Fake Castles, Grouchy People & Condoms

In some ways Wales proved to be more interesting that I expected it to be and in other ways it was a big disappointment. The first place that I headed for as soon as I arrived was the castle. Located in the heart of Cardiff it was in easy walking distance from the train station. I stopped by a tourist information office located on the street leading to the castle but the staff was not helpful. Apparently providing tourists with information is not what they are there for. They did not even have any brochures. Fortunately I had done some research on line the night before and had checked out the web site for Cardiff Castle. However, I failed to to realize that the castle was fake. Well not fake exactly, the castle is real enough, but it was built from the plans of a real medeaval castle and is certainly fake since the whole castle was built in 1868 by the 3rd Marques of Butte (a Scot). Only the Norman keep inside the walls and little bits of the wall which incorporate the remains of the original wall built by the Romans All the rest is about 140 years old.

I am not sure exactly how to describe the inside. I have not seen the like since my Brother and I visited Hurst Castle in California. William Randolph Hurst and the 3rd Marques were definitely of the same school. A really outstanding thing about the interior is that when it was built central heating was installed, along with hot and cold running water and flushing toilets. For 1868 this was really leading edge technology.

The 3rd Mq. was supposedly the richest man in the world at the time he built this, his Papa having made a killing as a coal mine owner who branched out and bought his own ships to ship it and his own brokerage houses to sell it. Sort of cornered the market and in doing to put Cardiff firmly on the map as a great coal mining port. Cardiff is a beautiful city. Of course it ought to be, there is lots of money here. It's obvious even now long after the coal industry has gone that there is lots of new industry here. Many of it's old buildings are being renovated and turned into luxury flats. The also have a National Welsh Museum that I did not have time to visit that has the largest number of French Impressionist paintings on display outside of the Louve. I am going to try to make it back to Cardiff just to see that if I can work it in.

Now you would think with all that going for it that the people of Cardiff would be a cheerful bunch of folks, wouldn't you? Not so. I was really surprised to notice how sour pussed the people of Cardiff all seemed. Not only had the staff in the Tourist Information Shop been unhelpful but when I took a ride in one of those double decker tour buses, the tour guide managed to remind everyone at LEAST five times that we weren't in England anymore, that this was WALES. Did he think perhaps that the passengers were not aware of this fact and were under the impression that Cardiff was part of England? The guy was a real jerk! Throughout the entire ride he managed to remark as he pointed out the lovely buildings that we passed (and there were many lovely buildings) how they superior to anything to be found in England and to let us know how many Welsh serviceman and women perished fighting and presumably single handedly winning England's wars for them. It got very tiresome after a while and I'm not even English! The Scots are very nationalistic too but they aren't shitty about it.

It was not just the tour guide. Shopkeepers were a pretty dour bunch as well. It was obviously a great inconvenience to them to have to go to the trouble of ringing up your purchase. As a result, I spent less than 10 pounds in Wales and five of that was for the bus tour. The rest was for post cards and the admission to the Castle. The heck with people who can't take a joke, right?

  And while I am on a rant here, l might as well continue it and tell about my trip through the lovely and quaint indoor Victorian Shopping Arcade directly across the street from the Castle. It was done up very sweetly, with hanging baskets, soft music piped in from somewhere. I browsed around in one of the little specialty shops that sold Celtic jewelry. I would have bought some too because they had some really lovely pieces, but if I hadn't been already ticked off with the whole place. By this time when I say the whole place I am talking about all of Wales.

There was a shop that sold every kind of button imaginable, a sidewalk cafe‚ and tea rooms, and there nestled between a shop that sold Welsh Tartan's (I didn't know the Welsh had tartans but apparently they do) and musical instruments was a Condom Shop that had a great big penis sign wearing a pink condom and a smile, or perhaps it was a smirk, or even possibly a leer, painted on it hanging right outside the door! I think I audibly gasped and I was for sure shocked right down to the bottom of my American Southern Baptist Bible Belt toes. Displayed in the window was a basket of penis shaped pasta, boob shaped pasta and a wide assortment of packets of condoms that I had not realized before this, come in all shapes, sizes, colors and designs and I presume, although I can't say for sure, flavors. There was also a box about the size of a one-pound box of chocolates, labled Passion Kit that contained two big globs of some lime green substance. My mind just boggled at that point. I have described it to B&J and they can't imagine what it could be either. If I make it back to Cardiff to see the paintings I will go back to that shop and try to work up the nerve to go in and take a close enough look at the box to read the directions. I will never get up the nerve to ask. But one thing for sure, I didn't need a tour guide to remind me that I wasn't in England, or for that matter definately not Arkansas.

 So that's my Welsh adventure. A day of surprises. Fake castles, passion kits and grouchy shopkeepers. Tomorrow we are leaving at FOUR AM to drive to Weymouth and take the ferry to Jersey. The photographs on this page are postcards that I have scanned in just in case anyone who knows me thinks that my photographic technique has suddenly improved. The day was very dreary and all my photographs turned out very dark so I have improvised.





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Little Rock to New York Post 9/11 - Autumn 2001

After several days of not knowing whether or not this trip was going to happen as planned, my travel agent called and said it was a "go" So bright and early on Sunday Morning, September 16, 2001 I presented myself at the Little Rock Airport at 5 a.m. and began what was one of the longest days of my life. I started to say one of the most tedious, but on reflection it was only tedious in spots. Both the plane from Little Rock to Atlanta and the one from Atlanta to La Guardia was only about one quarter or less full. But security all along the way was as tight as warned and the delays were as long as promised. The flight from Little Rock into Atlanta was uneventful and I had no problem making my connection to New York. The plane into New York flew right over Manhattan and we got a literally a bird’s eye view of the huge hole with smoke billowing up from site where the World Trade Center had stood.

Because the Port of NY had been closed by the New York Port Authority, both the QE2 and the Coronia had been diverted to Boston. Since all passengers had made their travel arrangements for New York's La Guardia Airport and it was too late to change them to Boston after September 11, Cunard picked all incoming passengers from LaGuardia and JFK and ferried everyone to the Hotel Sheridan in Downtown Manhatten where they had arranged for tour buses to take everyone on to Boston. In the process we got a wonderful unscheduled mini tour of Queens and Manhattan that included passing by Radio City Music Hall, Central Park, and Park Avenue.

Hundreds of passengers destined for both ships were being gathered up and deposited in the Sheraton's huge ballroom. Harried Cunard staff members were desperately running around sorting passengers and luggage into groups that would fit on a bus, and hopefully all going to the same cruise ship. While Cunard was obviously doing everything possible to make sure everyone got sent in the right direction, it definitely felt like we were being rounded up, sorted, and shipped out like cattle. Finally about 3 p.m. they got it all figured out and they started loading everyone into buses for the 4 ½ hour trip to Boston.

On the way out of Manhatten one of the areas I recognized was Harlem. The sign on the Appolo Theatre gave it away. Although this was not a tour bus, the driver did point out the building where Clinton now has his offices. From watching the news in Little Rock you could easily get the impression that NY was all a smoldering ruin. The actual devastation is only in what looks like one little spot from the air. The rest of NY is carrying on what looks like business as usual except that you see flags everywhere. In windows, hanging from balconies, on cars, every place you can stick one. This little unintentional tour of New York was a little bonus I wasn't expecting. I would love to spend some time there someday. It looks like such an exciting place.

We arrived in Boston about 9 p.m. into mass confusion at the dock. We discovered later that there had been a bomb threat to the QEII and we were met by the Military. The FBI was screening every passenger and every piece of luggage that was going aboard. It was a little after 11 when I got to my stateroom, starving to death since I hadn't eaten anything all day except for the breakfast sandwich I had brought from Little Rock to eat on the plane. I consulted the map of the ship that was provided in the packet of papers I found in my cabin, and by more luck than skill at reading maps, found the Lido Grill. I don't even remember what I ate, but it took care of my hunger.

Back in my stateroom I barely had my wits about me enough to glance through the information in the packet to see if there was something urgent I needed to know. Sure enough, instructions for having your breakfast served to you in your stateroom which, you have to admit is pretty urgent information, as well as an announcement of a life boat drill the next day and a list of the entertainments scheduled the voyage. Tomorrow, I will think about all that stuff tomorrow

Bristol & Bath - Autumn, 2001

Bristol & Bath

First Day Lunch at The Swan, Portsmouth

Bob and Jenny were at the terminal to meet me when I arrived in Southampton. We drove to Bob's sister Kim's house where that branch of the family had gathered. After visiting for a little while we all went out to lunch at a lovely old pub. I have never been able to remember the name of it but I think it was The Swan, or maybe The Goose. It has been so nice to be able to enjoy the first day of my visit without having to deal with jet lag

This is my first visit to Bristol and I am so impressed. It's a very cosmopolitan little city, lots to do, lots to see, but not in the least bit intimidating. I can see why B&J love it here so much. It seemed strange at first to be visiting them in another place other than Helensburgh, but I very quickly got over that.

Jenny took me on a drive around the city and then down to the City Centre area and the harbor. It's lovely down there. Years ago this was one of the busiest ports in Europe. John Cabot sailed from this harbor in 1497 on his voyage to North America and was a major slave trading port in the 1700's. It was also a popular embarkation point for emigrants going to the America's. Today, while it is still a functioning port, the docks in the City Centre area are definitely geared to the tourist trade.

Last night Jenny and I went downtown to Bristol's Old Vic, the oldest theatre in Britain by the way, and saw Love and Other Fairy Tales, a loose adaptation of Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tale. It was beautifully acted and was full of sly English humor. I has inspired me to try to read The Canterbury Tales. Bob, who has read and enjoyed Chaucer is encouraging me to give it a go, but says that I need to find a recording so that I can hear the old English spoken, as well as a translation guide. Under all the rubble, is a wonderful story. (Says he)

Bristol Temple Mead Station

I love riding the trains and buses in this country. It gives me such a sense of freedom to know that if I decide that I want to visit some place on my own, Britain’s marvelous public transport system will allow me to do so. A lot of Britains that I have talked to don't realize how lucky they are to have it. That is because, in my opinion, they have never had to do without it. One of the first things I do when I arrive in Britain is to buy myself a Senior Rail Card that gives a 30% discount on all trains and many ferries. If you plan to do a lot of traveling in a specific amount of time, you can also purchase a British Rail Pass before you come. If you’re not a UK resident that is. But I never bother with that, I purchase a Senior Rail Card which gives a nice discount off the regular fare, and if possible, book ahead for an additional discount. I feel like I have more flexibility that way.

Today I went to Bath, as in the City of. The journey to Bath is almost as much fun as the visit to the city. Leaving Bob and Jenny's house I walked up the road about four blocks and then caught one of the red double decker buses you always see in the movies rumbling around London. Well they have them here in Bristol as well. It's about a 20 minute journey to the City Center where I transfer to another bus that drops me off at the door of the Bristol Temple Meade train station.

If you want to experience the flavor of Britain, there is not better place to do that than to ride the local buses and trains. One of my favorite things to do is to go up to the top deck, as the view from up there is completely different from the one you get riding on the lower one. I am constantly amazed at how much people over here drag onto the buses with them. A pretty young girl who reminds me very much of my Granddaughter Kristen got on the bus at the train station with a very large, soft suitcase stuffed so full it was about to burst its seams, a large paper shopping bag which did burst when she boarded, three gallons of paint in cans, a floor lamp and a plastic shopping bag with two paint rollers, a pan and several brushes in it. That's got to be a world’s record. What was really funny to me, no one except me looked on in amazement, and the young girl didn't seem all that harassed either.

While I was in Bath this time, the only touristy thing that I did was to ride the cream and green tour bus. I always do this in any city that visit here. It is the best value a tourist can get for their money. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I have visited the city before, because there is always get a different tour guide so I get their impressions of the city along with the memorized spiel.

But aside from that, I didn't visit a single other tourist attraction but instead explored all the little wynds and ways, poked around the shops and book stores, had lunch in a riverside café under the Pultney Bridge and tea in the Cadbury's shop. I also splurged and bought myself a lovely wool cape that called out to me from the window of a shop that specializes in woolen goods from Scotland.

Tomorrow we are traveling up to Scotland so my next journal will be from there. I plan to be there about two weeks.

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