Saturday was taken up by a round trip to Birmingham airport, to collect the fifth member of our party who was flying in from elsewhere. On the way back we stopped at Leigh Park Barn -
- look here - I may as well put you straight now. I am not going to post a chronological diary of the holiday. Just the bits I feel like writing about, when I feel like writing about them. OK? If you want a proper timeline, you will have to cut and paste and re-arrange things later for yourself.
Right, where were we.
Sunday was a non-car day. Thank heavens. We spent the morning pottering around the town and I bought a couple of postcards to make sure of sending them off before we finished the holiday. One with a picture similar to this caught my eye:
It is a dry valley in the Gospel Pass, the highest paved road in Wales, a very old way through the Brecon beacons from Hay-on-Wye to Abergavenny.
Joy of joys, there was even a stone circle at the top.
The kind with little stones like this one in a rough circle.
It seemed to be a friendly little circle, more "domestic" than awesome. It felt quite - approachable, understandable. When I was younger, I remember visiting Stonehenge when you could still get upclose and personal - and a little scared - by the size of the whole thing.
The views were breathtaking. (So was the wind).
I took the picture of the dry valley a little further on, before the long descent through increasingly civilised farmland down to Abergavenny (and the long, long wait until they could manoeuvre the broken-down tractorish kind of thing that was blocking the single-track road into a gateway to let us pass. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... G". "Grass" "Yes, your turn"....)
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