18 July
Marquis, Tewksbury our first stop to get Libby's habitation door fixed (the second attempt). We found a superb little site nearby in Hanley Swan - a quaint little village along with duckpond and tame heron.
We enjoyed couple of days exploring Worcester and Upton on Severn where we learnt a little of life in the 1600's - we might complain of much these days but would we wish to swap our lot? -
"Offenders could be whipped at the whipping post, locked in the stocks at the far end of town by their ankles or if a 'scolding woman', be put in the ducking stool and plunged into the disgusting and evil-smelling pond." - I think not!!
From the same period, instructions to residents read:
"We do order yt no Cowes Bellys be emptied in the street by ye buchers. Wee do order yt no person shall suffer any pig or piggs about the Town to go unringed." Dumping masses of offal onto the street and allowing half-wild pigs to root about had clearly been regular customs. It was also acceptable to have a dunghill outside your front door so long as you cleared it away after 16 days!
So next time you feel a grumble coming on, think on!
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| Worcester Cathedral |
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| 'Mapping the Grid' - painting by Harriet Mena Hill(fascinating group of paintings on the same theme) |
Saturday 21 - Off to Snowdonia National Park
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| En route to Beddgelert |
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| Downhill mile walk to the village - good workout on the way back! |
We'd become accustomed to the patter, pounding and everything in between of rain but in this forest site under the canopy of trees, the sound of water tumbling off the leaves sounded like some little mischief chucking hundreds of marbles at the roof every time the wind gusted and shook the trees which would wake us up with a start! In warm sunny weather such a site would offer welcome shade but I think we'll avoid forest sites for the time being! The idea of walking up Snowdon was however abandoned as for the most part the hilltops were covered in low cloud and though creating dramatic views, not quite what we'd like for such a climb - if I ever make it to the top I want a photo to prove it!! The local village of Beddgelert was very typical of the area with its picturesque stone cottages.
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| Beddgelert |
There is the sad story of 'Gelert':
The hound belonged to Llywellyn, the Prince of North Wales who, on returning from hunting finds his baby's cradle overturned, the baby missing and the dog with a bloody mouth. Thinking the dog has savaged the baby, Llewellyn kills the dog which lets out a final dying help. He then hears the cries of the baby and finds it unharmed under the cradle, along with a dead wolf which had attacked the child and had bee killed by Gelert, the dog. Llewellyn is overcome with remorse and buries the dog yet can still hear the dying yelp. From that day on Llywellyn never smiles again.
The Welsh Highland Railway passed right by the site so we had grandstand seats each time the steam train chugged through.
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| Proof: our 'home' taken from train window!! |
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| Porthmadog |
Portmeirion wasn't quite what I expected - the vision of architect Clough Williams-Ellis who wanted to create a place of unusual beauty for people to stay. Having finally found the perfect plot of land, he started work on Portmeirion in 1925 and spent 50 years building it. His motto: "Cherish the past, Adorn the present, Construct for the future." Portmeirion is his collection of random abandoned buildings and parts of which, for me, makes for an interesting, quirky yet puzzling place to be. In addition, many of what appear to be buildings are in fact purely facades or part facades! As a point of interest, his daughter, Susan Williams-Ellis started the Portmeirion pottery in 1960.
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| Alternative for 'walking the dog'? |
Our time at Beddgelert was coming to an end and the habitation door was again becoming more and more difficult to shut and the shower room basin now blocked so we took out the map to see where our next Marquis stop might be (it would appear we're doing a tour of UK Marquis Motorhomes!) so it's Preston this time as it sits conveniently on our route from North Wales to the Lake District. We didn't really want to drive in one go from Wales to the Lakes anyway did we??!!
We call our dear friends who live on the outskirts of Lancashire to see about popping in on them and ended up staying the weekend.
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| I'd like to say this was exceptionally good judgement - actually I was watching the rear of the vehicle as Michael reversed without giving a thought to the top!! Must be an inch clearance there if we're lucky! |
Door and basin fixed we finally headed off to Northumberland giving the Lakes a miss as we'd arranged to see my brother and family. The site at Whitley Bay was an absolute delight, perched on the grassy clifftop overlooking the lighthouse on St Mary's Island which, when the tide is out, the island can be reached via the causeway. I managed to run on a couple of mornings and what an inspiring place - when energy levels ebbed I just looked around, took a deep breath and I was full of bounce once more.
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| Our beautiful view from Libby |
I took the opportunity of travelling across by bus to the little village of Tantobie to spend the night with my dear niece, Rosanna, for some fun girlie time and catch up. We're getting very used to travel by bus - though I do wish we'd thought to acquire bus passes before we slipped under the local council radar having paid rates, taxes and all those other monies we keep paying out all our lives!
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| Love the humour! |
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| Seaton Sluice |
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| Seaton Sluice |
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| Sunset over St Mary's Island and our time at Whitley Bay comes to an end |
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IT'S OFF TO EDINBURGH ................................
"Offenders could be whipped at the whipping post, locked in the stocks at the far end of town by their ankles or if a 'scolding woman', be put in the ducking stool and plunged into the disgusting and evil-smelling pond." - I think not!!
"We do order yt no Cowes Bellys be emptied in the street by ye buchers. Wee do order yt no person shall suffer any pig or piggs about the Town to go unringed." Dumping masses of offal onto the street and allowing half-wild pigs to root about had clearly been regular customs. It was also acceptable to have a dunghill outside your front door so long as you cleared it away after 16 days!
The hound belonged to Llywellyn, the Prince of North Wales who, on returning from hunting finds his baby's cradle overturned, the baby missing and the dog with a bloody mouth. Thinking the dog has savaged the baby, Llewellyn kills the dog which lets out a final dying help. He then hears the cries of the baby and finds it unharmed under the cradle, along with a dead wolf which had attacked the child and had bee killed by Gelert, the dog. Llewellyn is overcome with remorse and buries the dog yet can still hear the dying yelp. From that day on Llywellyn never smiles again. 
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