Hello again from the wind-lashed clifftops of Ireland. Yes, I know this is about Wales but, by the perverse logic which influences the (non) workings of "convenience" apparati such as washing machines, laptops and cars, so the middle of May has brought four days' rain and 50 mph gusts to Portrush.
Himself (The Chauffeur) and meself (The Gofer) recently went to Wales - for the first time. Motivated by curiosity and a need to see the venue for the 2010 Ryder Cup - ah, you may gloat - we took ship to Holyhead on Anglesey and drove down the west coast, along the south coast and right back up the middle - in three hectic days. And it was wonderful.
Now, I do not commend such a schedule to holidaymakers but we were on the charge, so to speak: people to see, places to go, sheep to worry. And boy, do they have a lot of sheep. But for those of you on t'other side of pond, I should explain that there was an added edge to this trip. You see, the previous Saturday had seen Ireland win their first rugby Grand Slam for 61 years i.e. beating the other top five teams in Europe and it had culminated in a ferocious battle in Cardiff where Ireland had won in the last two minutes by the narrowest of margins, thereby deposing the reigning champions Wales.
So were not there to gloat - but every Welsh person we met congratulated us on a long overdue triumph, then adding sotto voce: "Thank God you beat the English." All the English working in Wales did likewise, adding very, very quietly: "Thank God you beat the Welsh - they'd have been insufferable if they had won." And you folk think you have problems between the states?
Wales is a fabulous place - and largely undiscovered. Most tours go to the north west area to see the monumental - and I do mean Chrysler Building scale - castles which Edward I built to impose his will upon the stubborn Celts. Caernarfon Castle is just stupendous, especially bearing in mind its thirteenth century origins.
But the real attraction of Wales is the more gentle centre of the country. When you leave the valleys of the south coast, traditional homes of coal and steel and ports and government and meander up the A470/A483 via Bulith and Llandidrod Wells, you discover a countryside that is as far removed from the stereotypical image of Wales as you can get. Good hills, nice pubs, helpful people.
Of course this is subjective but in our admittedly limited experience of Wales and its people, we met nothing but helpfulness and a co-operation which certain sections of Irish society have seriously unlearnt - a sort of "dimming down" of that sprit of willingness which lights up the traveller's way.
To switch metaphors, perhaps our Welsh cousins never lost the recipe where as a generation of Irish have either never learnt it at their mother's knee in the first place or are now acquiring the baking instructions after a constipatory helping of humble pie. Whatever the case, Wales is a grand wee country - good roads, good hotels and some splendid golf courses (addicts please see next blog) - and should not be bypassed in any madcap dash round Britain.
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