UK03 – Monday, 17 Feb 03

It was our last day in Wales, and there was little desire of the party about going too far afield, We started the day at the previously-recommended Raglan Castle (Goodrich Castle was, alas, closed Monday and Tuesday – which, of course, made perfect sense, since it was an English Heritage site, and we were doomed to never be able to go to one ever again).

Raglan was built late in the stone castle game, with a lot of French influence in the decorator accents, and as much a statement of power as an actual defensive work. So, of course, it turned out to be quite a fine defensive castle when the English Civil War hit, holding out under siege for quite a while (lots of musket loops doubtless helped), before eventually falling to those pesky Parliamentarians. The castle was slighted, primarily the Great Tower being thrown down. Ironically, it withstood many of the initial attempts, and eventually had to be thrown down by force of labor, basically deconstructed.

A sad note was that the lord there had been the one given the lands of Tintern Abbey, so the library of the castle had all the records of that location. Those were, naturally, destroyed along with said library. Urf.

We headed up to Brecon to wander about the town, nabbing some lunch first thing (I had a fine lamb stew). Margie and I hit some good used book stores, and bought a little of this and that. Margie found me a copy of the English version of the first Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, which is the proper title, dagnabbit.

Actually, it was kind of interesting seeing those cases where book titles differed between the two countries. The middle volume of C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra trilogy is called (in the paperback edition I saw) not Perelandra, but Voyage to Venus (a more approachable title?). Similarly, Heinlein’s The Rolling Stones goes by Space Family Stone (a copyright issue, perhaps).

I would be remiss if I did not note that while in London I picked up, at Doyce’s strong urgings, a copy of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. Heh. A lot of fun, especially for having been to so many of the Underground stations referenced. Now I have to get Margie to read it.

We tried something new in Brecon, which was rather than huddle from one place to another, we simply said, “Meet back here in two hours.” Worked pretty well, actually, aided by cell phones and Lori crashing in the back of the Mercedes.

From Brecon, we followed a brochure lead to another arts & crafts center to the north. That took us to Erwood, and a small craft center at the old train station there. Some nice stuff – Margie got a little wooden box, and we picked up a fun print of trees and bluebells. Some other stuff was, I believe, gotten as well by the others.

We got leads on many other mid-Wales craft centers — too late, of course, by then.

We headed back to the B&B then, a scenic drive down through the countryside, with the sun finally (!) peeking through and making us realize how much we’d missed it.

Margie had been doing some research with various booklets from downstairs on places to eat in nearby Abergavenny that were smoke-free. (I don’t think anyone actually appreciates how much work of that sort she did with different guides in both London and Wales.) We all headed off, shortly before 7:00p (heh), to the Trading Post Bistro …

… which was closed.

Ooookay, how about the Greyhound Vaults?

Dark and locked up.

Hrm.

At that point, the party split. Doyce, DaveG and Lori went to the Abergavenny Coliseum, an inexpensive little place that was right there (and which has, evidently excellent loos). Jackie, Margie and I drove back to Nant Ddu (about a half hour drive), for yummies there on our last night in Wales. There was roast chicken for Jackie, with crusty bread; lamb shank with monster sautéed mushrooms for me; supreme of chicken with a salmon tabouli starter for Margie. I had a muscat de baumes dessert wine, in lieu of dessert, since Margie was driving.

I’ve not talked a lot about security while we were there. A few days after we arrived, there was a big security alert, as intelligence reports talked about the possibility of someone using a shoulder-mounted SAM on a jet. Hundreds of troops were dispatched to Heathrow, and Gatwick was shut down for several hours when someone tried to go through customs with a live grenade in their pack.

By the time we were leaving Wales, the troops were gone from Heathrow (there were reports of arrests, but nothing specific about the terrorist threat).

It’s interesting to note that security concerns on the pages of the paper (and on the telly) got no more press than “the cut on David Becon’s head” (a footballer who got hit above the eye by a boot thrown by his coach).

The news stories we saw on the States were very limited. Almost nothing about Bush. Much foofoorah about Ridge telling the American people to beware of gas attack, and the panicky run on the stores for plastic sheeting and duct tape. Big snow storm in the Northeast. A disastrous panic in a Chicago night club that killed a number of folks in the stampede (since the emergency exits were locked – yeesh, this sounds like a story from the third world). All in all, not very good press for us.

UPDATE: For pictures related to this post, go here.