Llandeilo Weekend

Having a quick one-nighter in South Wales. Went to see the Welsh National Botanic Garden and we were completely blown away. (Pictures to follow when I get back online) This place needs more publicity. We stopped off in the Co-op a couple of miles up the road and the tourist info display didn't even mention it. We only learned of the garden's existence after a chance encounter at the Hay Festival earlier this year.
Anyway, highlights: the walled garden, the touring fungus exhibition, the meandering water feature down the main pathway and of course the magnificent glasshouse, the biggest single-span glasshouse in the world, apparently.
I have to give a plug to the hotel we've been staying in, too, because it was lovely. The Cawdor in Llandeilo. Very friendly staff and probably the most comfortable bed in the world.
We kind of fell for the village of Llandeilo, too. It has a real buzz about it. There's a sense of pride here that seems to be missing from too many towns and villages these days. A pity we're only here for such a short time. But I reckon we'll be back.

Cheshire Weekend

Morning Campers. I see our neighbours found a tree to lash their aerial to last night. Must have happened in the dark, I missed the fun. That's one hell of a length of coax they're carrying round with them.

Weekend over for us. I'm off today but poor wife has to go to work at 12. Ahh! I get to unpack.

The Uncomplicated Life of the Caravanner

I've been watching the caravan opposite for the last hour trying to get
the TV aerial sorted. At first they tried various configurations of
attaching it to the roof rack on the car. Then the wife was sent out
again, armed with a mobile phone to enable instant feedback of the
results, where she has been trying to attach a 20 foot pole to the
hedge.They're still trying. We started watching when we came back from
a walk. Since then we've had soup, sandwiches, fruit, nibbles, washed
the dishes, put away the table, fetched water from the tap and still
they're at it.What strikes me about this little performance is that it
is the wife who does the aerial work. The husband is in charge of the
more technical aspect of sitting by the TV coordinating the operation
via his mobile phone.I'm loving this. I wonder what they want to
watch....ooh, ooh! I was about to sign off, but there's been a
development. The wife is out there with pliers, straightening all the
twigs on the aerial. I'll give her this - she doesn't give up easily.

Back in the Box

It’s a new season and we’ve had a couple of outings in the van. Right now we’re at a site near Congleton in Cheshire. This is part of a plan to discover areas close to home that have so far slipped beneath the radar, and Cheshire is definitely one of these. Cheshire is a place we drive through rather than to.

It’s raining, so, there we have it; it rains in Cheshire just like in Wales. The site we’re on is basic, no electricity, not much of a mobile signal, but it is so quiet. The noisiest thing here is the tweeting of birds. When a car goes past we look up and raise an eyebrow and say, “There’s a car just gone past.” It really is something unusual.

 We are not far from Brereton Heath, where there’s a small lake and a wood of oak and ash and even a caravan selling decent coffee. Give us a bit of sunshine and this place would be fabulous.

We had a trip into Congleton yesterday. We ate in a little oldy-worldy place, all lopsided black and white timbers. Just an sandwich and a coffee, but they made a real effort and we would go back for more. Congleton seems the kind of market town that has been battered by the big Tescos outside. Most of the survivors are charity shops, which is a pity, because it is quite a pretty little town. There’s a country park outside of town around Astbury Lake, and the pity there is that there are not many signs to tell you where it is or even that it’s exists at all, and, like the lake at Brereton, it’s worth a visit. A lap of the lake is just over a mile and it is a very pleasant stroll.

So, Cheshire. It’s on the map, now. We have a list of things we want to see here so we will definitely be back for more.

Luton

Yeah, really. Luton. It's not a holiday, but I'm in a hotel for three days so I guess it counts as time away and is Travelling-in-a-box-eligible. I've been sent here by my day job masters, a kind of imprisonment for something really bad I must have done to them once. I can't tell you anything about what I'm doing here, not because it's secret, but because I don't have much of a clue what I'm doing here myself.

So, a quick review of the Icon Hotel in Luton. When I arrived at 7-30pm my room wasn't ready. Not a good sign. Food service was slow, nearly an hour waiting for the starter.. The TV in my room only picks up one channel, not that I'm really all that bothered as there's no time for watching telly or, more importantly reading or even writing.

Here's the restaurant review: On the second night we went to a marvellous little Italian called the Mona Lisa. Been there before and will go again if ever I have to return to these parts. Its cosy and friendly and the food is excellent.

Last nice a group of about 30 descended on the Red Chilli, and Indian restaurant just around the corner from the hotel. I don't get much chance to eat Indian so I can't compare it with anywhere else. But the service was excellent and I enjoyed the food, even though late night Indian food in vast quantities does not seem to be the best recipe for a good night's sleep. (I must be putting on so much weight this week. No exercise at all and too much food, way too much.

So, I'm packing my bags today, woo hoo. Still got a long day ahead locked in a room doing incomprehensible things with numbers, but at least I'll be home soon.

Isle of Man

This is a flash post because I'm doing it on my phone. Flew to Isle of Man this morning, arrived 7.30. Walked around coast path to Port Erin. 17 miles give or take. We got wet. We got sunburned. We got blisters. But this has got to be close on the best coast path we we've ever done.

Weymouth

I've been out of internet coverage for eight days while we camped in a field just outside Weymouth. We intended to stay two or three nights but we couldn't drag ourselves away. Love Weymouth. Couldn't believe how much there was to see. Apart from Weymouth itself there was Portland Bill and Chesil Beach, and further afield we went fossil hunting in Charmouth and walking in Jane Austin's footsteps along The Cob in Lyme Regis. And while the rest of the country has been washed out, we've had wall-to-wall sunshine every day.

One of the highlights was a production of Oliver by Weymouth Amateur Operatic. A very professional job they made of it, and it made a change to be in the audience instead of in the pit – at least, for once, I got to see what happens during the songs.

We also visited Abbotsbury Sub-Tropical Gardens. Didn't expect much, in the end I ran out of superlatives. Abbotsbury was, no question, the best gardens either of us have ever visited. Fabulous.

Prize for most fun goes to fossil-hunting at Charmouth Beach. Expected to be tripping over fossils, found nothing. But the beach was full of kids with amateur fossil hunting kits beating hell out of the cliffs with hammers and chisels. One kid, about five years old, had plastic goggles for eye protections while devastated the cliff-side with a pick axe. At this rate there'll be nothing left in a couple of years. The cliffs had visibly eroded in the couple of hours we were there.

Today, though, we had to move. Back at work on Monday and I wanted to escape the worst of the M5 before the weekend, so we moved to Slimbridge in Gloucestershire. We didn't quite escape the worst of the M5, though. A two hour trip became three hours. Worst was the chaos in the motorway services. We tried them all and couldn't get into any until reaching my namesake services only fifteen miles from our destination. Had to stop, though. There's only so much bladder control a person can exercise. It's mad. The M5 always suffers, every summer. And it's not the fault of caravanners, it's everyone. The M5 is the gateway to Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, Somerset... A lot of people want to go there. So why don't they do something about the motorway and the lack of services. We don't need shops selling sweets and CDs and windbreaks and latte. Just a bloody-big carpark every now and again, with toilets and a place to rest would be fine. They keep putting up the signs "Tiredness can Kill, Take Break." Hell, yes, agreed. So give us somewhere to take one!!