From final farewells to the ancient buildings of Oxford

The locals tell us that it has rained constantly for two weeks in Wales, not just drizzle but rain that persists in torrents. Good soaking rain hence the resulting bumper crops that are swaying in the British breeze. Hence when the sun shone brightly on Tuesday afternoon it was thought to be a gift from down under, the Aussie tourists were a good omen, or maybe it was dad smiling and singing a familiar Welsh tune - he was finally home. A small gathering of about 30 people made their way to the tiny cemetery at Llansantffraid, Wales to bid a final farewell to Haydn, as they all knew him. Sisters, brother-in-laws, aunts, uncles, cousins and acquaintances took part in a brief but moving tribute organised by the Jones clan. Closure had come to those who grieved and the Welsh earth covered dad’s ashes like a comforting quilt. Following the tradition of old, a few drinks were shared at the Station Grill just up the road, giving family an opportunity to reunite with the Australians. Conversation was animated with trips down memory lane. The drinks in Wales don’t come small and I’m not sure how anyone drives under the limit if they have a few! As the sun was hidden behind the blackening skies, rain again teamed down and set in for the night.

Wednesday marked the beginning of our solo adventure, setting off in a our little hire car to travel the UK. With heavy rain overnight the roads were soaked but the sun was shining as we made our leave
from Charles and Karen’s home. Getting out the driveway was our first success and after that we
faced, mud filled laneways ( you can’t call them roads they are so narrow!), blocked roads and a navigation device that took us on the scenic routes, down a number of rabbit holes and back roads. The adventure had indeed begun. Daryl took it all in his stride and we successfully made it to our our first stop of Much Wenlock. A tiny town with narrow streets and quaint stores. We helped the economy by enjoying a cup of tea, although Daryl was most disappointed to find they served tea in a bag rather than a pot. The Lemon drizzle cake, Daryl’s new found love, was sweet beyond imagination. We should have gone to Catherine’s bakery instead! The antique shop we checked out was typically disorganised and cluttered, with barely enough room to squeeze through the aisles. Cheap in comparison to shops back home, we refrained from any purchases.

Moving on, we travelled to the Cotswolds, WOW just WOW, what an amazing part of the world.
Stunningly beautiful, it just takes your breath away. We stopped at a little town called Stow on the
Wold and explored the many shops and sights to see. Feeling peckish we chose to eat in a small baker tea rooms at the end of an alley way. Stooping to get under the doorway, we were immediately greeted by the aroma of home cooking and the friendliest Englishmen to be found. Tiny, compact with only about seven tables, they remained full with people and their dogs waiting at the door for a spot. Once we sampled the food, we understood why. Hot chocolate like we have never experienced followed by meals that were not only generous but wholesome and full of flavour. I watched with curiosity as a well trained Whippet curled up under his owners feet and slept soundly while she perused the wholesome menu. Run by a husband and wife team, the story behind the bakery is a tragic one, many of us would have crumpled under the great weight of sadness, but these people, chose a path of healing through faith after the suicide of their 16 year old son. Writing books to help others survive such enormous loss and grief, they travel the country speaking to others experiencing the same devastation, when they are home they are nourishing peoples souls and bellies with warmth and deliciousness.
After waddling out of our cafe, soaking in the incredible architecture, we sadly left the Cotswolds and
headed towards the bustling city of Oxford. Academics and visitors around the world would revel in such a place, steeped in tradition and culture. After going down a one way street, swiftly turning around, ignoring the glares of other travellers, we found a car park and made our way to the Oxford University Museum of Natural History. Stunning, it just blows your mind. We wandered Oxfords oldest library Bodleian and while we were too late for the tour, visited the shop, supporting the local economy once again and enjoyed the ambience of a place built so long ago.
Feeling more than a little weary, we rested our soles at the White Horse pub, famous for being affiliated with the Inspector Morse series and later Lewis detective shows, and waited for Daisy to find us. Pimms, along with gin and tonic, have become my new found delights, while Daryl seems to be cider sampling his way through Britain. Daisy and I work together, so it only made sense to travel some 17000 kilometres to have a drink together too. Having pre-booked accommodation months ago at home, also over a few drinks, we found ourselves driving further and further into the backwaters finally finding the Bat and Ball Inn, a tiny English pub set in Cuddesdon, a ‘suburb’ of Oxford. No
public transport out here!
Sharing an attic style room, the three of us, spent a very enjoyable evening sampling hearty English food and drinks until we dropped.
Thursday, the sun shone brightly as we made an early start, Daryl and I had a date with Ireland and we needed to get Daisy to a train so she could get back to London. Adventure number 47 was set to begin. Selecting a random city for breakfast we set toward Swindon, and quickly worked out this was a bad move... our first introduction was the magic roundabout, the only magic component about this was actually getting through it without crashing. Oh my goodness, what an engineering disaster this design is. Research told us this is the fourth most dangerous roundabout in the world - heaven help those who tackle the first three!
After doing numerous laps of Swindon observing some rather dark and dreary neighbourhoods, and realising there is no cafe culture in Swindon, we made the executive decision to leave and headed towards Bristol. By this time we had been moving for two hours without coffee or breakfast! Both
issues were resolved with a stop at one of the Services (similar to our roadside service stations but including a mini city inside) an absolutely marvellous concept. We easily found the Bristol train station and bid Daisy farewell. It was time to make a swift two hour trip to Fishguard.

Ireland and all it has to offer is awaiting us.

Until next time
N