The AM call:
I rose at 6am; it was a night of sporadic sleep. It’s amazing, but when there is something desperately important to achieve (like catching the ferry or having to pay for another ticket), your body jumps. I really need to reset my internal clock. Still, I rose. I had to check in at 6.30am and that meant no breakfast. The first morning that I would miss a good solid meal. It’s strange, but in all the years I have not eaten breakfast, I have probably eaten far more throughout the day than I would have done had I just took the time to sort out a good breakfast to start the day.
Looking around the cabin onboard the fast-cat, adults looked stressed, children are running a muck and the occasional idiot (like me) are sat watching those others around them. The crossing is set to be dreadful, at least that’s what the forecast says and I have to say that the captain didn’t sound to convincing as he gave us the information in his welcome aboard spiel. Just looking out of the window you can see the horizon rise and fall as the rain lashes against the glass… and we haven’t even left port yet. Should make it kind of exciting.
The other side of the crossing will bring me into Fishguard. I’ve never been and have no idea what is there, but I do know that I have a hundred stories from history about
the Welsh coast and the Welsh people.
I rose at 6am; it was a night of sporadic sleep. It’s amazing, but when there is something desperately important to achieve (like catching the ferry or having to pay for another ticket), your body jumps. I really need to reset my internal clock. Still, I rose. I had to check in at 6.30am and that meant no breakfast. The first morning that I would miss a good solid meal. It’s strange, but in all the years I have not eaten breakfast, I have probably eaten far more throughout the day than I would have done had I just took the time to sort out a good breakfast to start the day.
Looking around the cabin onboard the fast-cat, adults looked stressed, children are running a muck and the occasional idiot (like me) are sat watching those others around them. The crossing is set to be dreadful, at least that’s what the forecast says and I have to say that the captain didn’t sound to convincing as he gave us the information in his welcome aboard spiel. Just looking out of the window you can see the horizon rise and fall as the rain lashes against the glass… and we haven’t even left port yet. Should make it kind of exciting.
The other side of the crossing will bring me into Fishguard. I’ve never been and have no idea what is there, but I do know that I have a hundred stories from history about
the Welsh coast and the Welsh people.Travelling on:
The crossing was as I had imagined it would be... nobody really looked to be enjoying themselves and a good number of them sat patiently by the toilet door – just in case. Children screamed... a very young boisterous boy gave his parents hell and when that wasn’t working he cried at them, hit his mother and then cried some more. Jees... I know the crossing was bad, but that little brat needed a slap on the arse (my apologies to anyone who doesn’t agree with smacking children, but sometimes...). And, there was the first sight of land. The Welsh coast-line just ahead and in all the wonder I thought it would have, I didn't feel a bloody thing, other than sorry I'd left Ireland and the last couple of days of sun, for the wonders of more rain. Ah, the traditional British summer.
I have to remark upon it once before, but in Ireland nobody acknowledges you, I know I keep on, but it’s just weird... and yet, here, on the main-land (with the exception of the twit on the ferry), the first thing I noted as I left the ferry was an acknowledgement. (O.k. some more about the twit.) As we disembarked, one guy rushed to reach solid ground (at least that’s what I hoped was the reason), and as he did so he threw the straps from his bike in quick speed – almost hitting my bike. You’re not supposed to release your own bike because of health and safety and all that, but some people just can’t wait. A couple of crew members pointed to him and shouted and yet still he kept going... I waved at him to stop and he just looked at me angrily. I stood there, it would have been entertaining to let him go, but it would have caused a great deal of damage to a beautiful bike. Twit (I know no other name for him – there are a couple of others that I could give him, but Twit will do) was riding a Honda Varadero 1000. They are big bikes, not the heaviest, but very, very tall. He sat there looking at me and another of the crewmen shouted something at him – something not very nice. I’m sure he couldn’t hear because he had his lid on and engine revving. I get the feeling that he thought they were just delaying him. I walked over and with my hand in front of him to make sure he realised I wanted him to stay where he was, I bent down and released the final cleat. In his hast he’d released everything and just left it lying there so as he rode away the underside was still secure, had the loose end snagged on anything, he would have gone one way and the bike the other... Twit.
I disembarked into a horrible rain storm, freezing, howling wind and queue of traffic, and then I spotted a small cafe next door to the Tesco Express what a wonderful sight. The traffic was going nowhere fast as the weather closed in for the day, so I did the only sensible thing I could do. I stopped for breakfast...
The crossing was as I had imagined it would be... nobody really looked to be enjoying themselves and a good number of them sat patiently by the toilet door – just in case. Children screamed... a very young boisterous boy gave his parents hell and when that wasn’t working he cried at them, hit his mother and then cried some more. Jees... I know the crossing was bad, but that little brat needed a slap on the arse (my apologies to anyone who doesn’t agree with smacking children, but sometimes...). And, there was the first sight of land. The Welsh coast-line just ahead and in all the wonder I thought it would have, I didn't feel a bloody thing, other than sorry I'd left Ireland and the last couple of days of sun, for the wonders of more rain. Ah, the traditional British summer.
I have to remark upon it once before, but in Ireland nobody acknowledges you, I know I keep on, but it’s just weird... and yet, here, on the main-land (with the exception of the twit on the ferry), the first thing I noted as I left the ferry was an acknowledgement. (O.k. some more about the twit.) As we disembarked, one guy rushed to reach solid ground (at least that’s what I hoped was the reason), and as he did so he threw the straps from his bike in quick speed – almost hitting my bike. You’re not supposed to release your own bike because of health and safety and all that, but some people just can’t wait. A couple of crew members pointed to him and shouted and yet still he kept going... I waved at him to stop and he just looked at me angrily. I stood there, it would have been entertaining to let him go, but it would have caused a great deal of damage to a beautiful bike. Twit (I know no other name for him – there are a couple of others that I could give him, but Twit will do) was riding a Honda Varadero 1000. They are big bikes, not the heaviest, but very, very tall. He sat there looking at me and another of the crewmen shouted something at him – something not very nice. I’m sure he couldn’t hear because he had his lid on and engine revving. I get the feeling that he thought they were just delaying him. I walked over and with my hand in front of him to make sure he realised I wanted him to stay where he was, I bent down and released the final cleat. In his hast he’d released everything and just left it lying there so as he rode away the underside was still secure, had the loose end snagged on anything, he would have gone one way and the bike the other... Twit.
I disembarked into a horrible rain storm, freezing, howling wind and queue of traffic, and then I spotted a small cafe next door to the Tesco Express what a wonderful sight. The traffic was going nowhere fast as the weather closed in for the day, so I did the only sensible thing I could do. I stopped for breakfast...
The ride from Fishguard was dreadful, and the photos really dont do it justice. The first is the roadside view going up the hills in the valley... all you get is white-out from the mist, and rain and the traffic is split in two, those doing 20-30mph - as they know it's dangerous to do anything more; and those doing 50-60mph, because the roadsigns say national speed limit. The second photo is the view looking down into the valley I have just ridden up. Beautiful isn’t it. I wanted to spend some time in Wales just looking, if nothing else then looking at the scenery, but it just wasn’t there for me. Disappointing really as it can be just a lovely country. I rode down into the Cardiff area and off at Maestag... Again a wonderfully green place, if it’s not cold, windy and wet; which it was :0)
It isn’t often that I get to see my dad and so I make a point of doing so whenever I can. We sat, we talked, we drank tea, talked some more and waited for Di and Kimberley (dad’s granddaughter) to get home. Kimberley is 12yrs old and, like Corrie, thinks she’s 18yrs already. But it was wonderful to spend time with the pair of them... Dad sat in silence as Kimberley waffled on and on... like girls do. It took some getting used to, but as dad said, everywhere he goes, she goes, whether he’s walking the dogs, going shopping or just running an errand, and her mouth never stops. :0)
It isn’t often that I get to see my dad and so I make a point of doing so whenever I can. We sat, we talked, we drank tea, talked some more and waited for Di and Kimberley (dad’s granddaughter) to get home. Kimberley is 12yrs old and, like Corrie, thinks she’s 18yrs already. But it was wonderful to spend time with the pair of them... Dad sat in silence as Kimberley waffled on and on... like girls do. It took some getting used to, but as dad said, everywhere he goes, she goes, whether he’s walking the dogs, going shopping or just running an errand, and her mouth never stops. :0)
She was most impressed with the photo’s Aly took of bands like Pussycat Dolls and N-Dubs, and once she had access to them, she was silent and everyone else was knackered. We did sleep well.
Bless her she was very sweet!!! its rubbish that it rained the whole time though, Wales is lovely, and lovely is said very well by the Welsh!! xxx
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