Day 64: Wirral to Wales

Not sorry to leave the Wirral. Fortunately as soon as I crossed the Welsh border there was a warm welcome in the hillside in the form of an American style diner where I had a great breakfast.

How odd to be in Britain and not to be able to understand a single word being spoken around me. North Wales is the place where English is the second language!

When I first met my husband to be, we went to Wales for a week so I could meet his Welsh family. We stayed in a small guest house in Rhyl where the landlord put us up in the attic in two adjacent rooms with a lot of nudging and winking! Well it was 1975 and sex before marriage was called living in sin! The Welsh family were, and still are, delightful people. Welsh is their first language too. My husband’s cousin taught Russian and French in a secondary school through the medium of Welsh. Imagine that.

Wales is a bilingual country. Welsh is the oldest language in Britain dating back 4,000 years but due to the population shifts and the industrial revolution, and the fact that it was deliberately suppressed in the 19^th century when schools were ordered to beat children for using it, fewer people spoke it.  

Since 1999 it is compulsory to learn Welsh in school up to the age of 16, which is a good thing as it is part of their heritage and culture. Not so easy for tourists who haven’t a hope in hell of being able to pronounce the places we are visiting.

So how was Rhyl? The Blackpool of North Wales? It was certainly as I remembered it. Acres of caravan parks and holiday camps.

My unruly SatNav keeps trying to pull me off the coast road and persuade me to travel on inland motorways. What does she not understand about being part of a road trip called ‘On the Edge Around the Coast’? If I had obeyed her command to ‘do a U turn,’ ‘in 400 yards turn left and left again,’ I would have missed the spectacle of another thing that looks as though it too ignored its navigation aid.

A massive ship The Duke of Lancaster is beached in Flintshire, close to a fabric and craft centre called Abakhan. In the past Wales was closed for business on Sundays. You couldn’t even get a drink in some counties. Today that was not the case. Abakhan was doing a roaring trade.

Meet Keith Howard who is on security here. He is gets bored standing around watching people shopping, and his mind turns to idea generation. I asked Keith about the ship stranded on the shoreline.

At this point in my narrative I claim intellectual copyright on this day Sunday 3^rd July 2016 in the name of Keith Howard for his stunning and creative idea in relation to The Duke of Lancaster which I will be describing in the hopes that Flintshire Council, The Welsh Assembly and any sponsors pick it up and run with it.

The Idea....drum roll please.

The Biggest Ship in a Bottle in the World.

Keith said the ship was once used as a restaurant but again health and safety executive put paid to that on the good grounds that the ship was full of asbestos that can’t be removed. The ship is deemed dangerous and is quietly rusting away. I went to photograph it, so did dozens of other people. Keith’s idea is simple. It could be turned into a wondrous tourist attraction like the Horses at Falkirk in Scotland, by constructing a toughed Perspex bottle to enclose it. Like the Horses, it could have lighting installed to make it look great lit up at night, and in addition it could have some industrial fans around the base and scraps of paper or glitter which would turn it into a superb ‘snow globe’ for celebrations such as Wales winning the footie, or getting independence form Westminster. You get the idea? The Guiness book of records could get involved and it would be a major - safe from asbestos because of the ‘bottle’ – draw to the region. There used to be a busy market three days a week on adjacent land. If the idea were to be taken up, that could be reinstated bringing work to the area as well. It’s a win win. Now all Keith needs is an organisation to action it.

Phew.

A visit to Bodnant Gardens run by National Trust is a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon in the sunshine.

 

Unlike many National Trust properties it does what I have been advocating for years – it has gifts made by local artists rather than just the same old national trust shop central buying goods that you see everywhere else.

Finally Caernarfon on the Menai Strait directly opposite the island of Anglesey.

Caenarfon is a world heritage site, a walled city built round the impressive castle which is possibly the most famous of all the Welshcastles.

It was begun in 1283 by Edward 1^st not only as a military fortress, but also as the seat of Government and a palace. Inside the castle is the museum of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. Caenarfon castle is enormous and intimidating and almost overshadows the narrow streets. But Edward was not the first to set up a stronghold in the area. The Romans were there 1000 years earlier and the remains of their fort Segontium are still on the hills.

The Welsh Highland Railway, similar to The Jacobite in Fort William, is a steam train journey from Caenarfon to Porthmadog. If trains are not your thing, you can take a boat trip on the Menai Straits instead. I am beginning to sound horribly like the tourist board.

What I had remembered about Caenarfon was that 20 year old Prince Charles was invested as the 21^st Prince of Wales in front of the castle on July 1st 1969. He spent a term at Aberystwyth University to learn some Welsh to deliver his speech. I also remember that many Welsh were very unhappy about the ceremony and saw the investiture as a national humiliation.

It was a long time since breakfast in the American style diner and I needed a fuel stop before driving the last 20 miles to the sheep farm where I was to stay in a village with a name I can barely spell let alone pronounce.

Blackboys Inn is the oldest pub in the town and it served good food.

The village I am staying in tonight is Llanaelhaern. My hostess is a delightful lady called Megan Jones, the farmer’s mum, and she apologised to me for not speaking good English! She had made me a cake and poured me cup of tea seconds after I walked through the door. 

How marvellous. 

Day 57: Surprises

Special day today, it’s Morgan’sb irthday, my beloved number one daughter. Happy birthday Morgan and thank you for all the work you are doing as my media editor especially when I have no access to signal or WIFI.

Today I am on a bit of a treasure hunt. Before I left on this trip, one of my closest friends told me to take a can of petrol with me, a snow shovel and try to find Eisenhower’s flat which he thought was somewhere in Kilmarnock and had gold plated bathroom taps. Really?

I drove to the car park in Tesco and rang him to check that Kilmarnock was the right place.

“Where are you?” he asked

“In Kilmarnock”

“Is it pretty there?”

“Not from where I am sitting, no. I’ve seen signs to somewhere called Dean’s Park though. Maybe that’s pretty.”

"The place I remember where Eisenhower had his flat, has a lake. Is there a lake there?”

“No idea. I will ask customer services in Tesco." 

Well, it was early on Sunday morning and no-where else was open.
I popped into Tesco and made a beeline for Customer Service.

“Morning,” I said to the lady behind the counter. “I have three quick questions.”

“Do you sell Haggis Crisps?”

They do so I bought some.

Can one get Irn-Bru in Brighton or do I need to get some here?

She told me to ring the Brighton Tesco and ask them as she only dealt with the Tesco in this area of Scotland. She suggested to be on the safe side that I take a 16 pack back with me.

She hasn’t seen the size of Gloria and I want a couple of cans not a whole pallet. I have tried it – its undrinkable.

“Any idea where Eisenhower’s Flat is?” 

She had no idea who Eisenhower was, let alone whether he had ever had a flat in Kilmarnock. If it was in Kilmarmock it was obviously still a state secret.
 I was about to give up when I spotted the security guard, an elderly man with ramrod straight military bearing and the moustache to match. Bingo! 

“Is Eisenhower’s Flat in Kilmarnock?"

“No."

“Oh, shame.” I was disappointed.

“It’s at Calzean Castle about thirty miles away.” And he gave me clear directions to get there.

Result.

As I was heading there a thought occurred to me: Robert Burns the Scottish poet. In spite of his fame he hasn’t entered my consciousness at all during my trip round the coast of Scotland. That’s probably a bit remiss of me, and as though I had suddenly conjured him u,p a sign flashed past me on the A77 warning me that average speed cameras were being switched on from Monday morning and that I was just a mile or two from Robert Burns Bachelors Club run by Scottish National Trust.
No such thing as coincidence. I swerved left and went to take a look.

What a sweet little museum and what strange neighbours it had. This was all around it...

Here it is. It was just three rooms and I was lead around by Alastair who wanted me to remind people that National Trust Scotland is waiving membership and entrance fees at all their tiny museums until September so you can get in free with no membership requirement. It will take you about fifteen minutes to go round this tiny place. 

230 years ago this was the place to socialise for all the single young men in the area. Basically it was a small ale house with a room at the side where the ale was brewed. Upstairs was a third room which, although very small, was used for dances and meetings and as a sort of Toastmasters Club. It was where Burns learnt to perform in public. The local Masonic Lodge met there too.

Alastair did know about Eisenhower’s Flat and told me to call in at Robert Burns birth place as it was on route.

I did. Another sweet little museum with a garden but actually not a great deal to see.

That’s because just down the road is a fabulous Robert Burns Centre – an interactive celebration of his life and works. It was really good – as good as the Culloden Experience. National Trust Scotland can be very proud of both of them  

 

On to Calzean!

My friend was an international garden designer before an awful car accident left him with a broken neck about twenty years ago. He has always loved trees and green. There are are lot of tree here and  its very green.
Looks like this might be the right place. 

Lovely grounds full of native and exotic trees, a walled garden and - a lake!

I found Eisenhower’s office in the castle...

In a tiny auditorium they showed a film about the history of this very beautiful castle. Eisenhower came here during the war to talk and test submarines. The castle is beside the sea. After the war he was rewarded with a  flat on the third floor. He only visited it four times and none of the staff knew anything about gold bathroom fittings. I couldn’t check it out for myself as that part of the castle is now a hotel and not open to the public. I suspect the gold fittings have long gone to pay for the upkeep of this romantic and lovely place.

The castle is a day out. It not only has extensive woodland, the walled garden, tea rooms and the castle itself, it also has a wonderful wooden castle play park for children. 

National Trust Scotland is very aware that in the past the organisation has perhaps had a bit of a ‘fuddy duddy’ reputation. They are working hard to overcome that. Both Calzean the Robert Burns experience have come up with a childrens' guide book in a cartoon format. I think they are great. I wonder if English National Trust is doing the same.

Once I left the castle the weather closed in and there was little to see in the countryside of Galloway as I headed to Dumfries.

I found the farmhouse where I was to stay and was surprised that my new host Brian looked strangely familiar. He had told me they would be out until 5pm with their daughter who was in some sort of production. Then she walked in.

I am 100 miles from Buchanan Street in Glasgow, in a farmhouse down a muddy track on the outskirts of Dumfries and the child is the same one who was busking and whose photo I put in yesterday's blog.

What were the chances of that happening? As good as my winning the lottery I suspect.

Ruby Darbyshire is Brian and Jo’s daughter. Brian has musical instruments all over the house and  even has a small compact recording gizmo. Ruby has been busking in public since was 4! She is now 9 and the Darbyshire's have decided to take her out of school and travel for a few months probably in Europe. Ruby will be earning them all their travelling money. She plays guitar, ukulele, harmonica and bagpipes. She already has a website www.rubydarbyshire.com where you can see her performing. 
I suspect this is a case of  watch this space and remember her name.