UK Adventure

23 May, Sunday: So much to do at home. My place is a wreck with clothes and “stuff” strewn about. I did get two big boxes packed yesterday. And only have three loads of laundry to complete.

Today I decided to accept Bron’s offer of a sightseeing trip to Conwy Castle in Northern Wales. I love castles. This is one you can explore. Am drinking coffee sitting aoutside at a café—okay, a Starbucks. Will meet Bron in front of the train station at 10:30. She reckons she can find the train station, but I think it would be too difficult to describe how to get to my flat—even though it’s only a one minute walk from the station. To drive there would involve one way streets
______________
She arrived at 10:45 after a detour. Went to the train station in Timperley instead of Altrincham. This is one of the things I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Aha!

Bron’s real name is Brainne, pronounced Bron-ya. It’s Irish. And she’s as pretty as her name. She does have some Welsh relatives though and really knows Wales. So even though I’d driven over the northern coast a few times, this time was different.

Our destination was Conwy and Conwy Castle. We came up upon it so quickly that I actually squealed. Luckily I had my camera on already. I took one hundred pictures in the several hours we were out.

The castle was built in 1283 and is HUGE. Edward I built it as one of the strongholds he developed when he conquered Wales. I called this the Day of the Pigeon however, because we took so many pictures of birds. They were nesting everywhere and were lovely.

There’s a wall that goes around the whole town and newer roads were cut into it. It’s still complete except over the main road where the wall was taken down to allow for more traffic. I took pictures of the entire framework.

After we walked on top of the village wall, we entered the castle itself and walked around the wall there. The first tower we climbed was the prison tower, right above the great hall. Bron hates heights but she gamely climbs anyway.

Besides the prison tower we climbed the King’s Tower, Chapel Tower (sometimes known as the Queen’s Tower) and the Southwest Tower. There were remnants of GIANT fireplaces where you can just imagine whole oxen being roasted.

The steps to the top of the towers were a little dodgy at times. But thick ropes ran along the sides that I grabbed onto to keep my balance. The views from the top were unbelievable.

In the gift shop I heard some American voices and struck up a conversation with two Texans. I told Bron that if it had been two Brits the conversation would have lasted 15 seconds, instead we talked for a few minutes and learned all kinds of things about each other. She said, “Yeah, but what if you don’t want to know all that information?”

After we’d spent a long time enjoying the castle we went to Canfadoeidlolnyynnn (Bron, please read this and tell me the real name so I can correct it. Thanks. Okay, I just read Bron's blog and it's Llandudno.) It’s a lovely seaside resort town. The architecture reminded me somewhat of the Isle of Man. I really enjoyed it and so did the million other people who were there to celebrate an actual sunny, warm day.

Because it was so crowded we had trouble finding a parking space. I yelled, “There’s one and it’s large enough.” Well, Bron had just gotten a new car and it was manual transmission and without power steering. It probably took us 20 minutes to park and we ended up with two wheels on the sidewalk and couldn’t get them down. One of the problems was that we were laughing so hard, it was difficult for her to drive at all. She kept thinking she didn’t want anyone watching and thinking she was some dumb female. (This is the other incident I'm not supposed to talk about.) It was really funny. Especially when a guy came over and offered to help. Just at that point her car—on the very edge of the curb—slid off very slowly. So now the tire and wheel cover were so tight against the edge of the curb that the wheel cover was bending in. The man picked up the side of the car by himself (yes, it’s small) and lifted it an inch away from the curb. All well and good except he broke the bumper. That’s why people don’t like to be Good Samaritans.

We ate at The Habit Tea Room. The food was excellent and reasonably priced. I must confess I had dessert. (Slap my hands. Bad Jeri. Bad. Bad.) I had apple crumble with custard (remember the insidious custard from previous blogs?) and Bron had a banana split.

The waitress was a stitch. Old. And if she’d been in the US her name would have been Flo. She saw Bron’s Portland CSz shirt and asked if it was from Portland Oregon. When Bron said, “Yes,” Flo told us all about Robert Scott Baxter, an American from Portland who she dated during the War when he was stationed at the bomber facility. Her mother wouldn’t let her go to the base like the other girls did, but Robert would call at her house. After the war, he asked her to come to America, but her mother wouldn’t let her. She corresponded with him for a few years, but then lost track. Now she thinks about him and wondered what happened. I told Bron that I think I’ll look him up on the Internet. (I did, but didn’t find anything relevant.)

Then we walked through the town so I could get some money from the ATM and we bought rock. No, it’s not drugs. It’s a rock candy, made into long sticks. I didn’t eat any of it, but am taking it home to share. It’s famous here I guess, so I’m looking forward to trying it.

We walked back along the beach where Bron picked up some rocks for her boyfriend. There were some beautiful ones on the rocky shore.

It didn’t take as long to get out of the parking space as it did getting into it. But we still laughed about it.

Then we drove to the Great Orme, which is a huge country park and reserve. From a distance it has the look of Diamond Head on Oahu. What a beautiful spot. We drove very high up on narrow roads and the view was spectacular. One particular view was the side of a hill where everyone takes large rocks and writes their names on the hillside. I took a picture but the names are hard to see. We also stopped at a very old cemetery where Bron’s Great-Uncle Jessie is buried. While she tried to find his grave I had my first encounter with nettles. Omigod! I can’t believe how much they hurt. The plant injects a kind of venom in you. At first I thought I was stung by a bee or even bitten by a snake, it hurt so much. She found some duckweed and I rubbed it on both my ankles. That’s supposed to help. And it did for a while. But now my ankles hurt and one is swollen. All from a stupid old plant. Well, I always say I crave adventure.

Bron gave me a framed picture of me in the stocks from the show at the Malthouse Pub. And she wrote on the back. Very nice.

I bought some CSzUK shirts to give as gifts, and will buy more when I see her in Milwaukee in August.

A very good day. Thanks, Bron.

posted by Jerilyn Dufresne, author @ 16:09