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♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ SW England & Wales 2008
Atlanta to Gatwick1 . . . God, what torment! Nine hours and forty-five minutes!! . . .
an hour and a half longer than normal. Headwinds up to nearly 90 mph, they said.
Day 1 – Saturday
Long drive from Gatwick to Monmouth. Driving in Britain a harrowing experience; more on that later. Coffee on market square in Midhurst; people out on Saturday. On to Monmouth.
Monmouth is an historic market town in the England-Wales border country, birthplace of Henry V. It is actually in Wales now2, but four miles north the village of Welsh Newton, where the cottage is located, is in England.
Almost never found road out of Monmouth to Welsh Newton. Cottage quite satisfactory.
Pembridge Cottage
The cottage is on the grounds of Pembridge House, owned by the pleasant Miss Elissa Swinglehurst.
Dinner at the Punch House, a pub in Monmouth; curried chicken dish not bad.
Welsh Newton and environs a wonderful area. Woke up cold in middle of night - wonderful. Nice rainstorm toward morning.
Day 2 – Sunday
Armadillo3 at the BP for breakfast; tasty.
Visited Gloucester cathedral during a service. Ten seconds after entering, the magnificent organ roared into life, followed later by a lovely choral piece – found out later it was Vaughn Williams. Wonderful cathedral.
Gloucester Cathedral
Rest of day visiting Cotswolds villages. Lunch in Burford at delightful Priory Inn in garden patio. Upper & Lower Slaughter particularly appealing, especially Lower. Splendid manor house in Upper.
Many large fields of neon-yellow grain on view whilst driving; it’s rye.
Day 3 – Monday
Headed north through Shropshire (A.E. Housman country) into Wales. Beautiful countryside.
Village - Welsh countryside
To Llangollen, on the Dee River. Delightful, but already too touristed in May. Friendly folks and good local art at Information Center. Good coffee and croissant at Fouzi’s. Regrettably not enough time to visit nearby famous ruin of Castle Dinas Bran, of Arthurian times and believed by some to have housed the Holy Grail.
River Dee, Llangollen
On to Conwy. Conwy Castle and walls very impressive and enjoyable. Lunched on a bowl of potato & leek soup next door at the Press Room. Would like to revisit Conwy & Llandudno4 when not so crowded.
Conwy Castle
Hop, skip & jump over to Caernarfon. The devilish town has no signs that I ever saw directing one to the castle. Finally found it anyway. Huge and impressive but not nearly so enjoyable as Conwy.
Returning east, the road passed through some parts of Snowdonia National Park which were very beautiful and arresting.
Stopped at Ludlow hoping to get a fine meal in this regional culinary center, but the Ludlow MayFair was winding up and there were lots of people. So a mediocre steak & ale pie and then back to the cottage.
Finally discovered the reason for the big crowds everywhere on a Monday – it was a holiday! A “Bank Holiday” they calls it.
SIDEBAR – Driving in Britain
Driving on the left is the least of one’s worries.
British roads are very narrow. No shoulders. Buildings, walls, dense woody hedges come right up to your left fender, sometime actually encroaching into the roadway – which was the case when our left outside mirror got busted while I was driving.
And then there are the roundabouts. Now, a roundabout is probably an efficient way to move traffic through an intersection, especially when there are more than two roads intersecting. But they are everywhere, literally every mile or two. There must be too many roads in Britain, with the consequence that there are intersections everywhere – and at every intersection there is a roundabout.
Roundabout ahead
You’ve got to love the multiple – double and even triple – roundabouts.
Bear to the left, bear to the right!
I didn’t get a picture of a sign announcing a triple roundabout, but they look something like this, and they will drive you crazy:
But, in addition to the narrow roads and ubiquitous roundabouts, the defining touch is the relentlessly aggressive and rude British motorist. Honking at the slightest provocation, waving their fists – and more expressive hand signs – out the window, glowering furiously as they roar by, they are a very unpleasant lot. In the stores, on the sidewalk, in the tea and coffee shops and in most normal situations, the Brits seem friendly, affable, helpful and courteous. But all that seems to disappear when they get behind the steering wheel of a car, which is often a BMW or an Audi (the Germans finally invaded England).
When he was driving, Edward was particularly irritated – more accurately, enraged – by the rudeness of other drivers. His typical reaction can be illustrated by the following scene, repeated many times in similar versions. “Was that someone honking?” “Yeah.” “Honking at me?” Car flashes by, driver waving his fist out the window. “God damn you!” Edward shouts, face contorted in anger and rage. “I’ll kill you, you goddamn motherfucker! Come back here and I’ll kill you, you rude piece of shit!” Body language bespeaks the sincerity of his words.
Another time, approaching a roundabout too slowly, he was passed and then cut off by a girl, honking, in a convertible VW, immediately after which we both had to stop to yield to traffic already in the circle. Edward had his window down, shouting at the girl,”You’re dead meat, you fucking whore!” He had come out of his seat belt and was opening the door. “You goddamn slut!” This time I was really worried, but fortunately the VW spurted ahead into an opening in the rotary, the car behind us honked, and Edward gave up, after threatening to kill the driver behind us.
Day 4 - Tuesday
Wanted to have an easy day so in no hurry to get going in the morning. Remarked on the large company of crows around the house; landlady said many are actually rooks.
Tintern is only a few miles south and the road along the Wye River is a designated scenic drive. Gorgeous. Tintern is a nice village and Tintern Abbey (ruins), locale of the famous Wordsworth poem, is huge and haunting.
Then to Tewkesbury, through lovely countryside.
Gloucestershire countryside
Tewkesbury Abbey is not actually an abbey (no monks) but is in fact a lovely cathedral. The volunteer docents were very friendly and informative. I liked the town and the abbey/cathedral very much (including the two pipe organs) and in fact I think I could live happily there.
Heading east, glimpsed magnificent Blenheim Palace (where Winston Churchill was born) and then found a Cotswolds village missed on Sunday: Minster Lovell.
A tiny gem, manor homes, manicured village center. Very hoity-toity, but lovely. Nice meal at comfortable restaurant there.
Another nightmare finding the road out of Monmouth to Welsh Newton. Misfired three times, worst involving going wrong way on dual carriageway5.
Day 5 – Wednesday
Only destination Salisbury.
The roads and traffic are a continuing torment – narrow lanes, frequent towns or villages, even more frequent roundabouts; probably averaged no more than 40 mph. Add to this the unfailing aggressiveness and rudeness of British drivers and it makes it all a very unpleasant and stressful experience.
Salisbury Cathedral is wonderful and magnificent, with large expansive lawns. Again, the massive pipe organ began playing soon after I got inside; although it seemed to be an extended tuning-up process, it was still powerful.
Magnificent Salisbury Cathedral
Surprisingly, one of the four extant copies of the Magna Carta is housed in the cathedral, easily available for viewing by one and all.
Magna Carta - 15 June 1215. This is the real deal; the two light areas at center bottom
are where King John affixed his royal seal.
are where King John affixed his royal seal.
The long dreary run of English pub food was relieved by a good meal at an Italian restaurant, Prezzo. Good spaghetti, wonderful green salad and excellent cappucino.
Drove the road from Monmouth to Chepstow again, along the beautiful Wye River valley.
Forgettable dinner of pub food in Chepstow at a charming place on the bank of the Wye where young people gathered in small groups to hang out, talk, laugh and generally enjoy the evening, occasionally cooking on small grills.
SIDEBAR – Pub food
One hears that food is better in Britain now. I think that means there are more upscale restaurants, mainly in the larger cities, that actually serve decent cuisine. But many places still offer the familiar fare called pub food, or “pub grub.” This typically consists of dishes such as steak and ale pie, steak and kidney pie, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie, pub-style hamburgers, and assorted chicken concoctions. Lasagne, and shrimp (invariably called prawns) dishes are becoming more common.
Pub food is okay, and sometime it’s a little tasty. I had a pretty good curried chicken dish at a pub, and a not-too-bad shepherd’s pie at another. But a steady diet of pub grub is not recommended. One last comment: The presence of several standard “steak” dishes in pub food is a puzzlement; British beef is inferior, poor quality, not good!
Edward has a rating system for pub food. As well as I can make it out, the grades are (in ascending order):
(1)Sub-Wretched, (2)Near-Wretched, (3)Wretched, (4)Disgusting, (5)Mediocre.
Works for me.
Day 6 – Thursday
Decided this would be a totally down day, remaining in Monmouth or immediate environs. No camera.
Slept till 9 and went into town for breakfast and found attractive cafe named Henry’s. Had a nice pecan roll, good coffee (cappucino) and milk. Took a nice leisurely unhurried stroll about the town centre and changed some money at the Post Office. Visited other parts of the town like Monmouth “Castle” and the medieval bridge, etc. Returned to Henry’s for a very good lunch of lamb baked with mushrooms and seasonings, good salad and tea.
Returned to cottage and read and slept much of afternoon. Really needed the rest.
Went back into town for dinner at nice Chinese restaurant, China Boy Jo. Waitress from Taiwan.
Day 7 – Friday
Across south Wales to Pembrokeshire coast in the far southwest. Weather appropriately atmospheric: somber, overcast, raw and wet.
Tenby, Pembrokeshire coast
Tenby
Fishguard - Ferry to Rosslare, Ireland
Day 8 – Saturday
Made the drive back toward Gatwick. Took the M4 and made good time.
Windsor is right on way so we turned off to it. It was Saturday and the crowds were huge. We had unwittingly stopped by not only on a Saturday but also during both the Windsor Tattoo and the Royal Windsor Horse Show (so ERII and Philip were there). But even with only a few fairly close glimpses, the castle is awesome (it is said to be the largest castle in the world). I would like to visit another time when crowds are thinner. Shepherd’s pie for lunch; not bad.
Windsor Castle
The Final Evening
In preparation for a morning flight, we were fortunate to find a room with two beds at a Ramada in Crawley, just minutes from Gatwick.
I went to sleep fairly early, only to be awakened some time later by a loud outcry of spluttering and cursing. “Goddamnit, I haven’t slept a minute. Not a single minute! . . . Your goddamn snoring!” Edward was getting out of bed; walked around the room a few times.“Gee, I’m sorry; I’ll stay awake a while and you sleep. Okay?” “Shit!” but he went back to bed. I went back to sleep.
After a while, don’t know how long, same scene. “Son of a bitch! No! No! I can not stand this.” He talks about getting another room, but we know there isn’t another one.Finally, he pulls his mattress onto the floor on the far side of his bed from mine. If the air conditioning had been working, the sound of the fan might have helped. Evidently not, though; soon afterwards he leaped up again fuming and cursing. “I’m going to sleep in the goddamn car.” Took a sheet and out the door. I was awake again. He was soon back. “Can’t sleep in that piece of shit excuse for a goddamn car!” No doubt about that; it was uncomfortable even to sit in. He flopped on the mattress and I went back to sleep. Later, without a word but much flurry, he took the sheet and left again.
I took the wake-up call, repacked and dressed. Edward was outside, smoking a cigarette.
“I slept maybe three hours in the car,” he said. “Great,” I said.
The End.
Notes
1 Gatwick is the smaller of London’s two international airports (the other being Heathrow).
2Monmouth’s Welsh name is Trefynwy.
3An armadillo is a meat (beef & lamb) pie in an eponymously shaped pastry. Eaten at BP petrol station.
4Llan, the exceedingly common element in names of Welsh villages and towns - e.g., Llangollen, Llandudno, Llanfynydd - originally referred to an enclosure but later came to mean ‘church’, especially a parish church.
5A dual carriageway is a highway with two lanes in each direction separated by a barrier.
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