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Britian/Wales 2 of 2

 

SATURDAY, 8/1/09: 2:47AM: Seem to hear a "TWO" in my head and wake to find it still dark outside. The heavy crash of waves on the other side of the hotel and down the cliffs continues to pervade the room, making it sound like a constant storm. The roomy, bare bathroom is cold, particularly the floor, and I tell Ken to put my bath towel under the sink, as he's put his under the foot of the toilet so I don't have to root out my slippers to keep my feet warm while I type this. Think I had a dream memory, but everything's gone by 2:56AM as I type this and prepare to put more anti-itch on my lessening left-thumb bite. Found that my Neo batteries were not rechargeable last night, so I'll have to watch the battery indicator when I turn this on, which progresses from 7/8 at the start of the trip, now down to just a bit more than half, to zero when I can throw those batteries away and switch to rechargeable ones. Discover a new little red pimple or bite on the top of my left thigh when I blow my nose with the Neo off my knees. Up again to pee at 5:52AM, and it's raining steadily. Back to doze for a dream, and at 6:57AM Ken says it's still raining, but when I get up and wash my face 7:08-7:15AM, it's not raining at all, just very foggy. So we dress as I finish typing the sketchy DREAMS:8/1/09 to 7:22AM. Out at 7:25 in a blowing mist, which finally clears as we reach the Watchpoint, saying the crossing was from 6-11PM last night, so it would be crossable at this time, but there's NO time. Ken goes back and I stay, taking pictures, until I start back at 8:10 and get delayed to 8:32, just in time to stop Ken from "socializing" and I can grab the PERFECT table for two (see photo) in the dining room. Up at 9:23 to type this, obviously not going to be ready at 9:30! Off at 9:40. We're left at Pembroke Castle at 12:45, after driving around the coast, stopping for photos, and dropping us at Sainsbury's to pick up sandwiches (I with the Breakfast sandwich again) and drinks (I with a chocolate milkshake, which with 90% milk I fear might give me gas [though it doesn't]), which we have on a bench, and before I'm finished he suggests we separate for the visit. I start off at 1:15 by climbing the Tower, pretty far up, and taking lots of pictures, then some of the other towers, including going down to the Wogon Cave, getting lost as to how to get back to the center, where I found the Exhibitions at 1:55 and dashed through most of them, getting down to the car late at 2:05, Ken having gotten down already. Drive to St. Govin's chapel, halfway down a cliff to a spectacular surf and "stack" rock and lots of viewers, then back to the car at 2:53 to get to Stockpole Quay (to which the rest of the group walked from the first stop, going DOWN to the beach we later visited, and then UP to Stockpole Quay) at 3:18, and LABORIOUSLY climb over forty high wood-banked earth steps to the field at the top, then across the field to the top of the beach, where I loved watching the tide slowly coming in, despite the screaming children. Ken forces me to leave at 3:45, and we labor our way across, and I take the pictures I didn't take on the way out, to get to the car at 4:03, quite tired. To Elm Grove, near Tenby, at 4:45, beautiful house set back from the road, in the same family for generations until the present family bought it 50 years ago and restored it: the husband paints pictures with house paints whose names inspire his pictures, the wife rides horses, a pursuit which the husband (guiding Ken around the house, from 5:05 to 6:20, about which he could recall no specific detail with which to interest me) says costs considerably more than HIS hobby does. I lie down from 4:45-6:08, possibly even sleeping, then get up to start unpacking, glad for the hangers in the closet and the large drawer for my bags, even though I have to carefully put my bag to be unpacked on a wheat-colored upholstered armchair, and Ken chats about his Welsh cider, which isn't very sweet OR tart OR tasty, adding that the host has a big bottle of Welsh beer (one of two last ones) that we might share, as well as wines and ciders in his bar. I unpack to 6:29, relieved that our departure to Tenby for dinner outside (which also may only be the two of us) has been delayed from 6:30 to 7PM. Type this to 6:47PM, ready to dress in fresh underwear, my North Face shirt, my black pants, and, for the first time, my decaying "dress" shoes, which really have to be replaced when I get back to NYC. I dress to 6:57, Ken reading from the book in the room, and I have to announce that it's time to leave. Allan, a caretaker, rather handsome with his light-blue eyes, introduces himself and we talk about how beautiful his house is, and that sleeping in the servants' quarters is only appropriate for someone in service to the building. We four get into the car and drive to Tenby at 7:25, being told that young people come from all over because a number of years ago "drinks in Tenby" was listed high on "everyone's list" of the Fifty Things To Do Before You Die. They eventually had to stop busses at the gates and turn them away. Things have calmed down since then, but we find that the three restaurants Daniel recommended are all full and ready for us only at 8:15, 8:45, and sometime after 9. We go back to Plantagenet House and get shown to the basement at 7:50 to wait for our 8:15 seating. Julie pays at the bar for her glass of wine and Maria's amaretto-cranberry (VERY strange: they would SEEM to fit together, but they don't TASTE GOOD together), and I put my prosecco on the Levin table's bill. The host comes by at least three times to assure us our table is just about to become available, and finally at 8:50 we're seated at a table for six, so arranged that all of us can view the rest of the restaurant and the thin-faced waiter who's the best of the lot. Julie and Maria share the cheese and laverbread, without the laverbread that the waiter brings in a bowl of black gunk that, to me, doesn't even taste marine, while others insist they can taste the fishiness and the seaweedity. Maria has gotten a second drink, and Ken and I get glasses of the two cheapest, then decide we want additional glasses of the cheapest, so they put a bottle on the table and say we can take as much as we want and they'll charge us for it. My venison pie is rather good: strong meaty sauce, good puff on top, and almost liverish-strong pieces of meat. I taste Julie's sea bass and Ken's plaice and am glad I didn't order them, nor Maria's fillet steak. We exchange travel tales and food and wine, and I finally pay Ken's and my bill of 86£ and they pay their 61£ in cash, and the waiter calls us a taxi with a driver who vaguely knows where we're going, and the sign for Elm Grove finally saves us, and we drive to the back and then to the front at 11:11, fussing with the lock until Allan comes to our rescue, thankfully still in street clothes rather than a bathrobe (though that might have been nice) and we climb to our room, where I shit a good shit and type this to 11:39, flabbergasted at the LATEST night so far, I think. Ken looks through Great Castles and Historical Attractions in Wales and passes it on to me as I finish this at 11:41, ready to brush my teeth and wash my face. Bed at 12:05AM.

SUNDAY, 8/2/09: 3:29AM: Pee and type DREAMS:8/2/09 to 3:37, nose running slightly in the cool bathroom. 6:41AM: Pee and type dream. 8:08AM: Finish typing third dream and head into the day, breakfast starting to be served at 8:30AM. Wash, read Eisteddfod article, and down to breakfast at 8:30, Ken having gone a few minutes early. Breakfast to 9:30, they having somehow thought we knew to ASK them when we were ready for our main dish, or they thought my constant EATING---first Weetabix, then an orange, then yogurt, THEN the plated breakfast of one fried egg, a sausage I tasted and gave the rest to Maria, mushrooms (which were quite good), fried bread (which was much too greasy, so I left about 1/3 the half-slice provided), and large pieces of ham that I took the fat off and finished, along with two half-slices of toast with butter and apricot jam---meant I was satisfied. I really felt FULL after the glass of juice and the glass of water. Daniel offers to help us with the laundry, so I take four shorts, four pair of socks, and my khaki pants, and when Ken comes down with his load I suggest he add his to mine. He refuses. I say he's SILLY and mine takes up hardly a quarter of the space, and surely he can put in SOME so he doesn't have to worry about it LATER. He gets angry with me for getting short with him, and later asks why I INSIST on arguing with him IN PUBLIC. I shrug. I put my stuff into the washer and go to my room for a pound for the meter, and John says he did it, so I try to give him my pound and he waves his hands. Daniel provided the soap from somewhere, and they say I can take the clothes out of the washer when I get back in the afternoon and put them into the dryer with 20-cent pieces, as many as six for 90 minutes, though my scant load will hardly need that much time. Drive to Carew, Ken definitely taking the front seat after Julie and Maria said they didn't mind, so I'm in the second row with Julie in the middle and Maria sleeping against the door through much of the boring driving in the later afternoon. To Carew Castle at 9:57 to take pictures of the pile from afar, and leave at 10:09 to cross to Milford Haven at 10:17, taking a picture, from the bridge, of the factories in the distance. Out to walk across New Gale Beach from 10:50 to 11:16, first on the stones on top of the dune, then (Ken wobblingly) down the slope to the more-solid sand below, where I find a perfect butterfly shell, beautifully colored, and then a multicolored stone shining almost mosaically with wet that of course duns out as it dries. [Show it to Ken at 6PM and he says it's wrong to say someone has bad taste---except for him to say that I have bad taste, of course. But he's just "not a stoner."] Watch a surfing class, people flying parasails as kites, and other screaming bathers, but no one is really worth looking at in their bathing suits. To "the smallest city in Wales [because it has a cathedral]," yet remains small---St. David's---at 11:35. Park at the bottom of the hill and Ken takes off alone at the head of the parade of four of us toward the foot of the cathedral, and I don't see the two women after that until they come back to the car. I look at the remains of the Bishop's Palace, take shots of the cathedral, and then go away from the direction we came to find a deserted path to a flight of stairs that takes me to a kind of suburb of St. David, where the buildings are unique, including a sod-house with two skylights, one over a kitchen window that proudly displays a shining aluminum toaster. Around the back, finding some dynamite flower photos, and finally find myself in front of a supermarket at 12:17, where I buy my lunch: 59 pence for TWO Mars bars when ONE costs 49 pence, and 69 pence for a barbecue-flavor Peperami, for which I present 1.5£, get 22 pence change, and walk away from the counter to be called after by "Left them," so I go back to the counter to put the two items into my pocket, thanking her sheepishly. Go into a Candy Shop at 12:25 and take a shot of the counter maiden and the array of candies, which imaginatively include Fairy Satins, Dolly Mixtures, Rosey Apples, Sugar Free Pineapple Fizz, Cherry Lips, Humbugs, Marry Me Quick, and Sweet Tobacco. Out to take an unsuccessful picture of "Frankie" when his partner attends to other business; my first try failed. Into the cathedral and, impressed by everything, take LOTS of pictures, including the 1233 grave of Rhys Gryg, whom John's Welsh encyclopedia says died in 1234! So it may be the grave of his FATHER, Rhys Someone Ap Gryg---no, who seems to have died AFTER his son. Leave cathedral at 1:17, pee, and take a shot of a car driving across a stream and get to John (to take a picture of him reading his paper in front of the van) at 1:33, the women not back yet (Maria is 25, not 23). Car goes at 1:43. To Porthgain 2:04-2:28, climbing a hill around the brick factory to take pictures of another rocky inlet of the sea, and then arrive in Fishguard at 2:55 to drive around looking at the harbor and the village. Drive and drive, and I see the sign for Pentre Ifan that he turns on, but then I think he PASSES the site, and I try to rationalize his doing that, but then he stops at the site and lets us go in on our own. Great shots, with women, with vista, with assorted "possible" nearby sites. John gives me a copy of National Geographic with "The Secrets of Stonehenge" to read, particularly about the sarsen stones, which came from THIS area, theoretically by glacial-carriage from the tops of the Presili Mountains, which he insists have EXACTLY the same stones in the same shapes along the skyline that I take a photo of. Leave Pentre Ifan, from 3500BC, at 3:38; stop to pee at 3:54, then a LONG drive south through the Pembrokeshire Peninsula to St. Florence, where I hear Ken begging John to pick us up in Tenby after our dinner, since it cost us 20£ to return last night. In at 4:58, and I go around to the back to be told that Jane has HUNG UP my clothes to dry, and they're ALMOST dry, well dried beyond damp, but I still have to drape them on hangers over cabinets and pictures and doors and mirrors to let them dry completely by the time I get to bed, taking time to razor-blade off the dangling threads from the bottoms of my khakis, which have washed very well from my fall on the sea-wet stones on the way to Dylan Thomas's cottage. Ken will also ask John to check the drying of his SOPPING laundry, for which he put in SIX 20-pence coins, which should last 90 minutes, but may NOT handle his SOPPING laundry, at which point, about 8:30PM, would John kindly add MORE 20-pence coins to dry it. He'll take us in to Tenby at 7:40, and even come to the DOOR of the Qube to pick us up at 9 or 9:15, time to be decided between Ken and John, and I'm so HAPPY he's willing to do all this. I hang the stuff to dry to 5:05. Ken takes his laundry down and returns to talk about various things; I get into the shower about 5:15 and have a GREAT wash, with NO trouble with the touchy water-supply that Ken described, to 5:45, at which point I type, talk to Ken, and wet my stone again, and finish up to date at 6:27, feeling somewhat rested from the boring drive back, not looking forward to the five-hours-plus drive north, though we're not going to the Eisteddfod FIELDS before tomorrow's performance in order to check into the hotel, which is about an hour away, or more with the Eisteddfod traffic. I refuse to consider buying Wellies to protect my shoes from the mud-filled fields around the sales tents, even though the "enormous" performance tent is set up in the same muddy field! Hope my luck will hold. Ken says softly, "You might put on some clothing, since we're due to leave in ten minutes." Yes, it is now 6:30PM. Down at 6:38. We get to Tenby at 6:52 and Ken is totally confused as to where Qube might be, but they have his name and he sits facing the restaurant, while I look out onto the street to see a GREAT body in a tight brown short-sleeved shirt with some other guys, and then a flock of superhero-mimics with masks, tights, capes, and false pecs. I have a good duck pâté with chutney and a side salad, while Ken has a sensational starter portion of mussels in a fabulous butter-and-cream sauce, of which I help him leave only a half-cupful at the end. My duck with hoisin sauce is quite good, tough because of being more cooked than very rare, and Ken gets TWO mackerels, of which he can only eat one. I hardly touch my roast potatoes and eat lots of his dessert toffee-accompanying ice cream and chocolate sauce. Interesting elderly couple from London next to us chats with us, and I keep looking at the velvet-skinned guy talking with the animated girl who even talks with ME when he goes to the john. Our waiter---vaguely incompetent, even to being reminded we'd probably need glasses to drink our wine in, and not giving Ken a taste or pouring at all---was from Slovakia. I insist on asking for the check before Ken does, and he can add a 7.35£ tip to make it an even 79£, which I calculate, food-wise, to be 44£ for Ken, so I mark 88£ on my side of the bill and we leave at 8:52, getting to the curb at 8:56 and, to my surprise, John isn't waiting for us, and in fact doesn't show up until 9:04, and we get back at 9:19PM, somehow much quicker than the cab seemed to take. Ken goes to see to his drying laundry and I put my dry laundry away. He comes back to say it's STILL wet, Jane has volunteered to look after it until she goes to bed at 11PM, having put it back into the washer for ANOTHER spin cycle, which Ken had evidently denied it, which was why it was so SOPPING wet when he piled it, too early, into the dryer. So he gave me a pound coin for five 20-pence pieces at 9:40 and clearly expected to spend the evening feeding it more 20-pence coins. I'm rather tired as I finish this at 9:42, thinking to get to bed rather early, since Ken left a wake-up call for 7:15, thinking he'd have a lot of packing to do in the morning. Finish reading St. David's Cathedral to 10:04. Ken goes to check drying, and I try to shit but it doesn't work. Go through National Geographic on Stonehenge and the snow leopard to 10:23. Ken changes our wake-up call to 8AM, and says that if we go down at 8:20 they'll serve us beginnings of breakfast. Bed at 10:25PM. To sleep quickly.

MONDAY, 8/3/09: 3:09AM: Pee and type DREAMS:8/3/09 to 3:26AM. CAN'T get back to sleep for a LONG time, but then finally start Actualism and wake at 6:24AM with what, at first, I think of as "ramblings" of my imagination, but I realize I've had TWO dreams during that time. Record dreams by 6:33AM. Manage to squeeze out a single large turd; the bite on my left thumb is still there, though smaller; my nose still runs; the right thumbnail, 1/4 ripped off to the quick when I fell on the rocks below Dylan Thomas's cottage, was another 1/4 bitten off when the stub was annoying---not helpful at all in peeling an orange at breakfast yesterday---and still the edge is ragged, so I even it off by biting off ANOTHER 1/4 of the nail. 6:43AM: Just powdering my crotch when Ken calls in, "On the toilet?" So I reply, "I'll be out in a second," and then go back to brush my teeth, which have been variously aching me on both sides, annoying since I discovered at dinner last night that I'd lost a bit of filling in one of my lower back left teeth. Clean teeth METICULOUSLY to 7:13AM, at which point Ken gets up to go to the bathroom AGAIN! Start packing at 7:45AM. Pack to 8AM, Ken still snuffling in the bathroom, so I can't get to my dop kit. Finish breakfast on dot of 9, MARIA making all the travel decisions, including Portmeirion! Leave room at 9:05. Car goes at 9:10, I in front, and get off in Lampeter at 10:28, glad at least that, away from the high edges at various peninsulas, the roadsides here afford views over the hedge-over-rock separated fields, the endless numbers of sheep, and the ruminating cows and even some donkeys (or maybe jackasses, since they seem to be smaller, or are jackasses the BIG ones?). Stop in St. David's College for Maria to ask about registration possibilities, and take pictures of the Cambridge/Oxford-type quadrangle, since this is the THIRD-oldest college, though quite recent (in the late 1700s or maybe even early 1800s). Walk to the "last shop on Main Street" to get measured for smaller Wellies than we thought (I with an 8, Ken with a 9) for 16£, and into car with Erina, John's wife, with gray-blonde hair. Julie mentions the Guthrie again and I suddenly remember George Grizzard's name, and she remembers that he played Hamlet in their opening season in 1963-1964. Take Aberstwyth photos around 12:07, pleasant city by Cardigan Bay, and stop in a part of the enormous university to pick up lunch sandwiches and drinks and chips. I have a few bites of each and feel full. Maria had been the main consultant for the day's itinerary (and later Ken said it was due to HIM that we checked into the hotel BEFORE the Eisteddfod, rather than at midnight AFTER the Eisteddfod), and I was sad to hear we weren't stopping at the scheduled Harlech Castle, but then I felt so NUMB I really didn't care as we drove into Portmeirion [9:16AM the next day: Ken NOW insists I NEVER gave him a pound to give to John yesterday morning as we left St. Florence] at 2:30, to be picked up at 4:30. I photo dancers from Brittany, sadly WITHOUT sound, and we wander around the tourist-filled Village, with lots of houses and stairs marked PRIVATE, and he suggests we go down to the Hotel for a drink, where he has the usual enormous serving of tea, with about five or six silver servers, and I have a half-sweet, half-dry vermouth with ice to 3:28. I rather force a walk down to the lighthouse, and take more pictures, having missed the jet that passed over earlier, and we miss the turnoff to the gardens, so we find ourselves back in the Village. As Ken tries to get to the garden through the Arch, it begins to drizzle, so he gets out his umbrella and cancels the walk. We go into the Jam Pot and the Golden Dragon Bookshop at 4:04, he remarking that they have very few books. Take a few last shots from the pergola looking back up at the complex, sadly demystified now that I've actually walked through it, though I WAS intrigued by a deep whooshing sound that I associated with the big white balloon of The Prisoner, which Ken said he didn't hear. [I decide NOT to bring John into Ken's and my argument about my giving Ken the pound to give John yesterday as we left St. Florence: John might not remember and feel embarrassed to be drawn into an argument between Ken and me; and I, somehow, might actually have a false memory, though I usually don't have such things and DID have one pound less between the time I remarked to Ken that my change purse had a pound, a 20, a 10, and a 2, and later my purse DIDN'T have the pound, so it DID, IN FACT, go SOMEWHERE.] Having seen and photographed everything, including chasing the tot off the Buddha so I could get that, too, we get to the gate at 4:20, John nowhere to be seen. Maria joins us, and they agree John said he'd meet us right at the entrance tollbooths, not at the entrance to the parking lot. Then we gather and car comes and we leave at 4:32. Stop only for food at 5:11, I thought, but the back is being unpacked and we're at our destination: the Fairhaven Hotel, where "the dunce" has to be asked to help John with the luggage (Ken's luggage, of course), and to give us the room keys. Ken repeats a number of times my asking "the dunce" which of the three keys is for the front door, which for the inner door, and which for the room, and he simply replies, "Try each until one works." I finish my sandwich and smoothie and chips while Ken has the sandwich he brought from the shop up the street, charging me for the cakes he brought for after the Eisteddfod, and arguing about the 1.35£ for my chocolate bar. I feel strangely full, so I don't touch the chocolate bar, loading my jacket up with camera, binoculars, umbrella, umbrella bag, and plastic raincoat, and put on a SECOND pair of socks and a SECOND shirt to insulate myself for this evening in the cold and rain. Leave at 6PM to meet Julie and Maria in front of their next-door lodging, and we walk down to the parking lot in front of the White Oak (for which Ken said he would be willing to spend LOTS more money rather than staying for THREE nights in Fairhaven, where HE takes up the alcove with the TV, desk, and wastebasket with HIS luggage, also piling stuff atop the hanger space in the wardrobe and putting his shoes next to my bag in the bottom of the wardrobe; I have a drawer in the telephone stand and half the tiny top of it). We sit in the parking lot and fret, worried about being late for the Eisteddfod, when John and Erina wander up from behind at 6:17 and we walk around a circle to get to their van and leave at 6:25 after we three struggle into our Wellies, I putting the Wellie bag into my jacket pocket as well. Encounter almost no traffic until we can actually see the big pink tent of the Eisteddfod and enter the parking lot at 7:05, stopping next to a large tree (that of course we can't see when we return in the dark). Into the back to pee into a toilet, and THEN I notice the farther chamber with the wall pissoir, totally empty. Dan introduces us to Dafith, the guy who runs the translation concession, who says there's no translation this evening, and won't be any for the concert tomorrow, either, since there won't be any talking. They want to wander, but I get into the line in front of door 7 at 7:35. The grass is fairly unmuddy, there are car-corrugations on the main roads, and gravel on main paths, so it's not that messy. Many of the side tents are closed, but there seem to be plenty of food kiosks still open. I'm unreasonably annoyed by a local hick who plows through the all-pedestrian inner sanctum in a small go-kart type of tractor, seemingly just for the fun of it, and then two ENORMOUS trucks choose to turn one way and the other into the crowd AT the tent: could they have done that at any OTHER time or place than RIGHT when it's most crowded AT the main tent? Then it starts to rain, and I start getting poked by dripping umbrellas fore and aft, and of course when the doors open at 7:45 people who had been standing under shelter at the sides, out of the line, push INTO the line, ignoring the people who had been waiting there for fifteen minutes. I JUST DON'T FEEL HAPPY! Everyone from door 7 joins a large queue to the left, but a few who seem to (maybe) know what they're doing head off to a free area on the right, which actually joins the crowd entering from door 6. I find that the seats end with about number 80, and we're in the high 60s, so I can follow that, and the "ground" level starts about row 23, so I know where row 35 is in relation to that, numbers clearly marked on the risers. Up the bleachers and we're in fairly poor seats, but the place has about 4000 people and we're in maybe the 500th-worst seats. It starts at 8:02 with a set of announcements (oh, MANY of the signs on the ground were translated, but not the words on the tickets, so we had to be TOLD that FRS, or whatever, meant DOOR). Then a comedian comes on, maybe acting drunk, and people laugh and I'm bored. Then a male singer comes on, then the same male singer has a chanter behind him, then the chanter turns into a singer of some quality, then a guy with a guitar, then an aged Bob Dylan-type (never DID care for guys with guitars AND harmonicas), two girls, a girl band (and are ALL the girls stringy blondes with miniskirts?), three Welsh baritones, trouble with amplification at the start of most sets. The comedian comes on so frequently that even the WELSH audience audibly groans the fifth time. The pianist who accompanies Bryn Tyrfel comes on and plays "Malaguena" and "Grenada," oddly, and the next group SOUNDS like it's singing in a different language, but Ken says it's Welsh. Then come a blond guitarist and other groups. I film some of them with sound. Ken talks with the woman to his right, who knows most of the performers (even Dan doesn't know most of them), and gives Ken some of the jokes. It's over at 10:35, we take a long time getting out, it's raining slightly, my stuff is so encased in the bag I can't get to my umbrella. I'm over-hot in my two shirts, it's muddy enough at the end that we're happy to have Wellies, which we leave in the van to sort out in the morning. We're to the car at 11, out of the lot at 11:15PM, to hotel at 11:55, and to bed at 12:10AM, very tired.

TUESDAY, 8/4/09: 6:24AM: Wake and pee on the floor for the first time on this trip, using about twenty sheets of toilet paper to mop it up, and then type brief DREAMS:8/4/09. Alarm rings at 8AM, Ken goes into the bathroom, and I move in a state of fatigue. 8:10AM: Just don't feel like doing anything. Contrarily, when Ken last night suggested that, since I apparently didn't care for the Eisteddfod, I should give my ticket to someone else to appreciate, I said I expected to like tonight's performance better, since it wouldn't be so Welshly verbal, and surely would contain no comedian. Anyway, what would I DO in the meantime while they were there? Sit in our luxury room and brood? Keep counting down the days: only six left, thank goodness, but two more with the women, and at least the family is leaving our group today. Jan was just so VAPID talking to us in the parking lot yesterday waiting for John to appear with the car. I shit to 8:22, and Ken leaves for breakfast. Breakfast 8:30-8:59, car goes at 10:05. 10:40 into Conwy, taking John's suggestion and asking for the best discount for two seniors for the three castles we'll be seeing today, and they suggest a 3-day pass for two people for 18£, a bargain, since most castles cost like 4.25£/person over 60. Walk all over the castle, taking great pictures, loving the exhibit on Royal Chapels, and MUST buy the book. Climb all the towers and come down from the tallest one at 114 steps at 11:18 to buy the book, also getting the 8£ bargain-huge book on ALL the castles in Wales, for 11.45£ in all at 11:30. Go into the neighboring Guild Hall, pee, and drink water to 11:35. Do the outer-wall walk and leave at 12:05. Past Llanfair at 12:36. Up from black raspberries and two bridges, panting HARD, at 12:54. Into Beaumaris (after going through POSH suburbs, "mainly for University professors," John surprisingly says) on the pass at 1:11, slightly smaller castle, with a missed photo opportunity of an eel swimming in the outside moat. Around the maintenance-noisy outer part of the inner wall (thus inside the outer wall) and walk streets outside to order lunch at 1:55, for 1.67£, only 1£ for a nice tuna salad on dark bread, and 67 pence, half price, for a chocolate Frijji, really quite tasty, getting 3.33£ in change in six different coins! Car goes at 2:20, and we're off at Caernarfon at 3:15. Lots of towers here, too, raining for the first two shots, so Ken shelters my camera with his umbrella. Go through the Royal Fusilier's Museum, then the Investiture Museum from 1969 when Charles was made Prince of Wales, and there was an exhibit of all of Edward II's castles here in the north. Exhausted again, trip down to the john to try to drink water (having left mine in the van) and the tap SHOOTS water up into my face and glasses, but I manage to get a drink despite that. Lots of pictures, slate from an old mine used for the stone for the Investiture, lots of descriptions photoed, too. To car at 4:10, Ken insisting to Julie that we're supposed to meet at the statue at the BOTTOM of the hill, and she comes to the car at the Lloyd George statue at the TOP of the hill, shouting, "I was right, I was right," and that Ken has gone back into the castle to LOOK for me. I go back to the entrance and wave him back to the car, and he has a totally OTHER story about how the misunderstanding took place. We all finally pile into the van at 4:28. We get two (undiscounted) tickets for Mt. Snowdon at 9:30AM on Thursday for 50p at 4:52. Boarding should be at 9:15AM. To Betws at 5:30, and change rooms frantically to 5:50, lugging my stuff across the hall and being reminded that there are NO closets in my new room, and later Ken REFUSES to lend me two of "his" hangers because "they're all full of my clothes." So MINE have to be over the towel rack! Accuse them of taking my simvastatin container and red facemask until I FINALLY find them in my POCKET, where I stuffed them to NOT mix them with the other stuff that I packed onto the top of my suitcase, and then Ken dropped my bags in the hallway when I said I'd make two trips, and he thought he'd "help" me. Out to the car, which goes at 6PM with Ken, me, John, and Erina. Into QUEUE for parking at 6:35, out of van by 6:45. Pee at 6:55. They go off to meet friends. Ken "loses" place where he remembered food was being served, so after we trek down aisle after closed aisle, we end up at a kiosk alley where I order a hog baguette for 4.5£ and a sweet Pepsi, which tastes good and fizzy, for 1.5£, getting four one-pound coins in return for my 10£ bill. Ken gets Indian food and a Guinness, and we sit at a middle table while people eat all kinds of things around us. We wander aisles to find John and Erina, and we seat ourselves at 7:49. There's a BIG chorus and a FULL orchestra for the evening at 7:57. Sort of OK Rossini "Gazza Ladra" overture, then a poor soprano on "The Moon" and a mixed-race African mezzo who doesn't do very well with Carmen. Two solo guys sing, too, not that bad. Intermission (that mysterious five-letter "piece" on the program that we didn't understand) from 9:03-9:16, and then Beethoven's Mass in C to 10PM exactly. Not that bad, but not great, either; I could have stood lots more choral work. Ken says that NO recorded mass has "Ite, Missa Est" at the end of it. Into car at 10:20, easier to find this time, and onto road at 10:30 thanks to Erina's instructions. To parking lot at Betws at 11:05, to room at 11:11, being told to meet at 9:30AM tomorrow. "Unpack" all my bags into various drawers to 11:30 and take duvet out of cover and put things in some kind of order and get to bed at 11:46. Sleep fairly quickly under a doubled-over duvet cover that's too short for my feet to be under.

WEDNESDAY, 8/5/09: Type DREAMS:8/5/09 at 3:14 and pee. Have an erotic dream, wake semi-hard, and decide to take advantage of my night alone to jerk off. My cock looks bruised and unclean, which doesn't add to the eroticism, but I'm determined NOT to feel horny before the end of the trip, and cum at 6:35, rather a lot, rather limply, and dry off and pee at 6:45 and get back to bed to probably not sleep. Get up at 7:45 to wash face and have breakfast 8:01-8:44, Ken coming down to clear his throat at 8:35 and THAT so puts me off that I take my yogurt and spoon up to my room to finish it. Had Weetabix, scrambled eggs this time NOT on toast, a glass of orange juice, two cups of some exotic Twinings tea with honey that I had to get from the next table, and two slices of toast with the VERY salty ham-bacon. Separate out the last seven days of pills to 9:01, finding that somehow I left out the double calcium per meal for the last FIVE meals, so I'll have to double up for a bit when I get back to NYC. Read a tourist book, eat my yogurt to 9:06, and start typing at 9:07. At 9:17 remind myself to dig out the Castles pass, just in case [and GLAD I did!], and the Eisteddfod schedule I picked up yesterday. Type not enough and leave room at 9:28AM. John "skips" into shop following his wife across from the parking lot at 9:30, and we sit in the van at 9:30 waiting for the two women, then go down to the Information Office to pick up more PAPER and maps for the women. Car goes at 9:40. Into lot queue at 10:17, having entered the Eisteddfod area a different way this morning, going down narrow lanes past prosperous-looking farms. Park at 10:20, and it takes 13£ in CASH for each of us to get in, since they don't have the machine that accepts my chip-less Visa card. Ken goes directly to the pavilion for some boring Welsh singers trying to sing one song while a harp plays a DIFFERENT song---weird! I take the time to go through my photos, wondering where the order-numbers went, and get about halfway through at 11:27 when Ken leaves, and I have 355 photos left. At 12:14 (after waiting a LONG time for Ken to buy 6 DVDs for which they give him a 5£ discount at the end) looking at the FAT people and the mostly unpleasant males, except for a LOVELY I-Heart-NY fellow with a frowzy bunch of friends. I want to hear the chorus on a nearby stage, and Ken doesn't, so we decide to split. I sit on a bench and listen, and he comes back to get some kind of lunch sandwich, but doesn't ask me to save him a seat, so I get up and leave the Rondo female choir at 12:35 and go to the Dance Pavilion to find the Bretons there! Tell TWO of them that I'd seen them two days before in Portmeirion and didn't record the SOUND, so now I CAN! Just lovely luck. Look at them as they rehearse, then they go out and parade to attract a crowd into the Dance Tent, and I go into the Technology Tent, where there's ANOTHER chorus rehearsing with a few cute guys that I take pictures of at 1:06PM. Back to the Bretons again at 1:20-1:35. Buy a pint of Cwrw-Braf bitters for 1.5£, just to put something beside chocolate into my stomach. We gather at 2:02PM, and, as Julie wagered, Ken wants to hear some competition in the main pavilion at 2:10, so he wants to delay our leaving until 2:45. There are three singers, the first soprano of which Ken likes, the middle baritone I thought was pleasant and unique enough, and then many awards. Looking through the program, there are about eleven venues with something going on in all of them almost all the time, and different contests held elsewhere. At 2:53PM the women arrive, and my watch strap breaks AGAIN. To car 3:05, on road 3:12. Pass sign for "Free Range Organic Butchers." To Valle Crucis 3:55, to which our three-day bargain pass miraculously admits us, and semi-idiot father and son recommend we look for the swifts in the attic. Film them, take lots of pictures of the old place, and leave at 4:20. Dinas-Bran (Castle of Crow, the one Dan would have told us [from the Avalon book] was really King Arthur's Castle) picture at 4:35. Stop in the MUCH touristed "Llanfair" in semi-rain at 4:50, and back to hotel at 5:50. Into room at 5:59, moving things en masse, and then Ken needs John's phone number when the hotelier won't accept our bags "because he might want to go out, since he and his wife don't get much free time what with cooking and cleaning and handling guests." So I tear my things apart AGAIN, finally finding the diary note with John's number on it, getting VERY angry with Ken, since he refuses to leave our bags outside our room, or at the next hotel (connected with this), and couldn't possibly carry all his luggage to the parking lot with the women who are leaving the next morning. Fuss to get his phone number to 6:09. 6:11PM: I'm just FUCKING TIRED! And my frustration comes out with my barking at Ken about the amount of HIS luggage, which means we have to PHONE John (and I had to find my note 5 to find his phone number) to tell him to drive up HERE at 8:35, rather than just be in the parking lot at 8:40, because Ken can't cart all his luggage down to the parking lot and has to have the van come up HERE to pack it all in. AND back to my room to find they've put my duvet BACK into its jacket, moved my bag off the table to put their stupid little lamp back on, and I have to pack tonight, AND catch up on lots of notes before meeting the McMartys in The Bistro for our 7PM dinner, for which, at least, I'm hungry, though I don't look forward to dressing up for it: meaning putting on my black shoes and my black pants. Now, at 6:14, back to REGULAR log. Type to 6:46 and then MUST dress for dinner! LOSE my KEY! Ken fumes in the hall when I'm not dressed at 6:53, I calling out that he said to meet at 6:55, at which time I WOULD be dressed, but then I can't locate my room key in the mess of stuff on my bed. Look and look, almost deciding I can't join them because I can't leave my room and how can I prop my door open and phone them at The Bistro? FINALLY lift up my shoulder bag for the third or fourth time, and the key is under that. Get to The Bistro at 7:05, and they laugh at me, and then I want to take a picture of our wine, the Arrogant Frog, and go back to the hotel to get my camera! Have their "award-winning duck-egg omelet with smoked salmon and a special sauce," which isn't bad, and Ken likes his chicken-liver parfait, and Julie and Marie share a cheese dish. My lamb shank is huge and tender and tasty, with a SWEET sauce, and others like their entrees, too. Back at 9:53 after waiting AGES for the bill. Oh, I had a gin and tonic, even after Ken said, "They don't do mixed drinks," and I had to go to the bar to order it: gin with tonic. She put it down when I was staring at the specials menu overhead, didn't notice, and when I asked for my drink, she said, "You want a second one?" Thanks. Ken, as a parting shot at my not apologizing for shouting that we need John's phone number because HE (Ken) can't take all his luggage to John's VAN in the morning, tells me that FRED said he couldn't understand HOW Ken could travel with me. UGH! Bed at 10:11PM, leaving everything for the next day.

THURSDAY, 8/6/09: Pee at 1:53. At 5:15 type DREAMS:8/6/09 and pee. Right eye still itchy. Dream at 6:02 and get up at 6:55 to shower---successfully, despite Ken saying it was a delicate maneuver with the water-heating and -control system---to 7:18. Pack to 7:47, everything fitting in surprisingly easily, leaving it all to be sorted out later. Knock on Ken's door about 7:35 to give him his plug and to "apologize deeply about my anger last night," which he says he accepts, and all seems to be well after that. Breakfast 7:55-8:23, having Twinings "A Moment of Calm" tea with African honeybush, mandarin, and orange. We're loaded up: John comes up the stairs JUST as I'm going down with my bags before 8:30, and we're loaded with everyone and off at 8:35. To Snowden station at 9:05, getting on Train 1, Compartment G, and off at 9:31. Good views on both sides, but particularly to left, where Maria takes pictures, and get to the top at 10:30 to find it TOTALLY in the clouds. It DOES make dramatic pictures, but we can't see a THING. Reverse seats on the way down, seeing parts of mountains below clouds, then again spectacular views and lots of pictures, with lots of stops and passing trains, and two rescue helicopters to boot. Leave top at 11:09, waiting for the last few to get into the train in front of us, and get to the bottom at 12:04. Maria shops AGAIN, Ken changes from the trunk, and we leave to the Slate Cafe at the Slate Museum for lunch at 12:30, cash only for 8.94£, breaking me. Over at 12:50: leek and lemon soup, tuna sandwich, and a huge beer that leaves me sleepy. To four Quarry Houses, movie 1-1:10PM, slate splitter, water wheel, exhibits, quarry pond to pee in the bushes, sit at 2:20 to wait for van. John thought we were to meet inside, everyone else thought it was by the van in the lot. Then HE came out and Erina had gone somewhere else, but she finally joined us and we left at 2:36, Julie repeating a number of times, "Our train leaves at 3:16." We race toward the station until John abruptly pulls off the road and announces, "Very quick stop," for the top of Snowdon clear of clouds, third from the right, though clearly the highest. Maria takes a number of pictures and is back into her front seat in the van last. More speed, but cars are slower in front of us until we're at the tail end of a parade. Closer and closer to Betws-y-Coed and we actually STOP. My watch says it's 3:09, and I panic at the thought that they'll have to stay WITH us for the next two or three days! STOP again in town; he says it's just around the next corner. It gets to 3:10. FINALLY to station at 3:12, and everyone's out to help with their bags, and John and Erina go onto the platform with them and I confess to Ken my fear that they'd be with us MORE. "Some empathy," he said, "I was worried for THEM." "Yeah, sure," I replied. THEN Ken decides he wants to look at "the posh shops" around the station, using my wanting an ATM machine as part of his excuse to John. OK, we have 25 minutes. The shops are awful, though he buys a CD for 10p, and there are no ATMs. Then we go to St. Mary the Virgin church, (with wooden-roofed nave), replacing St. Michael's (which is still there), and then to pee, and sit on bench in front of station JUST as John and Erina drive by at 3:40. To Swallow Falls for a pound ("Our going through the middle gate," says John, "means he pocketed the pounds himself," rather than our going through the turnstiles). Much more impressive than we'd guess, particularly when we went up a level and saw ANOTHER series of falls. Leave there at 4:50 and get to Tan-y-Foel Hotel, up a narrow road, at 5PM. Unpack to 5:30, portioning out shelves and spaces and tub-rims for bathroom equipment. Then Ken suggests drinks in the garden, and we leave room---to find he left the key inside (WITH the sign on the door: "Don't forget the key!"). To male owner; he'll get master key, what will we drink? Special champagne cocktail for 11p for Ken, gin and tonic for me. Key on Ken's bed. We move two chairs and a table for a better view of valley, and a better-looking pine tree, with a monkey tree behind, and guy comes back with two drinks. He couldn't find keys. He brings my camera. Ken goes in to look for keys (which he put on toilet top while holding seat from falling while peeing: a capital hotel sin). I taste his mediocre drink, we finish our drinks, and go inside about 6:20. I type from 6:30 to dress-up time for dinner: white shirt, black pants, black shoes, jacket; Ken with jacket and tie. To drawing room for couple there for four days, and a Bloody Mary for Ken and another gin and tonic for me, served with a crab (VERY crab) canapé, squash soup served hot, and Spanish olives. Chat with people, who are called into the dining room in order of arrival and ordering. Ken has both fish courses; I have both meat; we'll share the hot chocolate mousse and the four Welsh cheeses. In to dinner about 7:40, meal sadly mediocre except for desserts, over at 9:30, and I take an orange and a banana and we get out to the end of a BRILLIANT pink sunset: our FIRST of trip! We stand for a bit, Ken goes in, I sit and REVEL in colors, looking at "town in valley of mountain" that turns out to be a slice of sunset UNDER a cloud that rises and lifts away. Sit entranced, finishing my banana, until just before 10PM. In to Ken in bed, and I start typing at 10, Ken turns off his light at 10:25, and I finish at 10:30, to date at last, and put stuff away, HAPPY FOR BLANKETS, NOT A DUVET, and get to bed at 10:35PM. Fall asleep quickly.

FRIDAY, 8/7/09: 3:41AM: Pee and type DREAMS:8/7/09 to 3:50AM. Think we REALLY should tip John! Shit 4-4:10AM. 5:44AM: INCREDIBLY sexy dream! Type to 5:52AM and pee and shit again (very solid and clean and non-smelly before, quite soft and rich-smelling and messy to clean now---hope nothing's going wrong!). Surprisingly light out so early in the morning! Doze and get up again and SWEAR my watch said 8:15AM, so I go into the bathroom, wash my face, comb my hair, put on deodorant, and get out to read the clock on Ken's night-table as 7:20AM, so I just read my watch wrong. Lie down, but just think, so get up at 7:30 and shit AGAIN: now it IS a worry. Start another RANDOM THOUGHTS at 7:39AM: Worried about two loose shits this morning. Concerned about convincing Ken to give John a tip of, say, $100 each for his services, since Xplore Wales is not HIS company but his son's, and he's probably working for his son for next to nothing, and has given us VERY good service for at LEAST ten days. AND then I'm thinking about my idyllic dream, where the two VERY attractive young (probably Spanish) men and one young woman were SO sexually open to ANYTHING: WHY WHY WHY can't SOME society somewhere be that free and open and unprejudiced? Contemplate looking into HQ or HERE and finding the latest "wrinkle rooms" and going where everyone IS admittedly gay and out, even if it IS for a price, and finding someone to cuddle with who might even LIKE someone who's older. Almost think of writing a story entitled "Dirty Old Man's Sexual Fantasies" that describes my going to one of these places and finding someone who is MY ideal of a sexual partner at this time (young, attractive, muscular, smooth of skin and bright of eye) for whom I would be the ideal sexual partner. Certainly I'd be willing to pay---maybe not as much as for Tris and Marj, but maybe considerable anyway. Just to be OPEN and not FURTIVE about liking someone for the way they look, not worrying about their doing the typical "What are YOU looking at???" Then my thoughts go back to the trip: last night was so WONDERFUL after a comfortable meal, two gin and tonics and a half-bottle of wine, and a glorious after-sunset with only a rare sheep bleating in the distance to break the silence: no bugs, no cars, no noises. So here we are: Friday here, Saturday Chester, Sunday Manchester, Monday HOME. Wonderful. An index and a trip to look forward to being the only impediments to catching up with THIS trip and getting on with wonderful free time in NYC. Now at 7:48AM what to say? Listening to footsteps in the room above from one of the three other pairs of guests here at Tan-y-Foel; Ken snoring in the next room---and odd lapses of typing: am I REALLY losing my mind? No future trips with Fred; Ken probably possible; Steve still in the running but with QUITE odd tastes in where to go. Three trips next year: one to Michelin three-stars with Ken? Somewhere with Steve? Somewhere with a tour with older people that involves very little walking at all? Not THAT much looking forward to Ken's proposed four-mile hour-and-a-half (according to MY estimate) walk in the surrounds and on the bridges of Betws-y-Coed. Then John drives us to Chester tomorrow and we're finished with his services. Maybe even my Wellies will find a place in my miraculously capacious suitcase. I suppose I COULD leave them, but it seems such a WASTE---even of only nine pounds. But just more stuff to take up space in my apartment where I ALREADY have a pair of Wellies that I VERY seldom use. Well, IF they pack easily tomorrow morning, I'll take them; if not, I can leave them with John to give away with the others. Finish at 7:55, not sure what to do next. Dress and go outside? Wake Ken? Well, I'll dress. Go sit outside, wetting my pants slightly on the wet-with-dew sling chair, and knock at the door at 8:30 to find Ken not dressed yet! Breakfast 8:45 (with everyone else, though the earliest leave at 9AM) to 9:30, John arriving at 9:24AM and Ken going outside to tell him he has to wait, particularly since Ken goes into the john at 9:30 and doesn't emerge until 9:40! We leave at 9:45, to Betws at 10AM. Start stroll behind the Information Booth at 10:07, lots of same-kind flowers, along the river, a number of kids playing in it: throwing stones, roughhousing, yelling back and forth. We walk around the golf course and get to St. Michael's at 11AM, for my first graveyard photos. I'm tiring even at this easy pace, glad that Ken realizes we can't do the last two miles of it to Miner's Bridge. To the "end" beyond Pont-y-Pair, taking many photos, at 1:53. Look through many crowded, smelly places to eat, and decide on the Alpine Coffee Shop Lounge, having wonderful Wild Elderflower Bubbly for 1.95£, to 12:30, with great pictures of a wave around a guy on a lighthouse platform and a seductive orang. John drives by as we pass on the road at 12:55, and we drive to Ffestiniog by 1:27 to get on the forward-facing buffet car seats with not TOO many kids in the immediate neighborhood, until we get to intermediate stops. Train goes from 1:40-2:45, not THAT interesting, though the pines going steeply down into the valley below were always worth looking at in awe. John passes in van outside station and waves hand, but doesn't reappear, and I go down the road to find him in line for the cheap Porthmadog Shell diesel at 70.62£ for 69.30 liters. Give 40 pence for the toll to the shortcut to Harlech Castle, taking pictures of across-the-bay Portmeirion again, and take pictures outside the castle to 3:40. Back what seems a long way to the hotel at 4:55. I order lemonade on the lawn at 5:05, and sit in the sun in my last clean short-sleeved shirt, taking the luxury of removing my shoes and socks and feeling my bare feet in the short green grass. I'm annoyed when the new couple, and then Camilla's partner, and then Ken join me at 5:50 (after his shower). He reads to me about Chester. I edit my pictures to 6:40, when it's time to go in and change for dinner to 6:50, and get first to the canapés: cheddar sticks and warm, spicy tomato soup that Ken says doesn't conflict with his Bloody Mary, and olives. And I have another lemonade. LATE called into the dining room at 7:40, to my decent duck breast, his poor soused halibut, then my same-old, same-old lamb on curried potatoes, and he doesn't like his sea bass, but orders four portions of cheddar for his four Welsh cheeses, and I have a Raspberry Pavlova with not THAT bad a meringue, good cream, and fabulous huge raspberries. Dinner goes only from 7:40 to 8:45, the Greek wine being a big flop for me at 41£! I go out first to a BLAZE of golden sunset, causing even blasé KEN to exclaim about its beauty. We watch entranced as the color slowly fades over the next fifteen minutes, and I go to the chair to watch the softening to pink and purple by 9:15. In to listen to Ken search for his water, and finish this at 9:40PM, ready for bed early and an 8AM wake-up call for John to arrive at 9:30 for our transfer to Chester. Room seems chillier than last night and I'm not at all tempted to shower, though I've GOT to change my smelly socks. It takes a while to get to sleep, opening eyes to see when Ken shuts off the light, which he does about 10PM, and then I fall asleep.

SATURDAY, 8/8/09: 1:10AM: Wake and lie dazed for a bit, then get up to pee and type DREAMS:8/8/09. Type to 1:15, still feeling dazed. Back to bed and fall asleep after a few moments of mympths, followed by a kind of purple pin-prick "haze" of mympth-like form. 5:04AM: Wake with memory of dream and lie for a bit, aware that it's not yet light out and reluctant to get up, but finally do. Sit on pot and record brief dream to 5:07AM. Debate whether to piss, or shit, or both, or neither. Three days left in trip! 5:10AM: Pee but can't shit; rather a relief after yesterday morning's two soft movements (in Bowel-minor). 7:18AM: Looked at my watch at least twice, and it seemed to be frozen at 6:XXAM. Finally rousted myself out of bed at 7:11AM and removed the cotton from two new earplugs. Looked for Valium, but it's not in my dop kit. Had a small shit and started typing another dream fragment. Now, at 7:24AM, I've had at least nine hours' sleep, and don't need any more. Don't want to take a shower in the coolth of this basement luxury room. Don't want to start packing and bother Ken. Can't think of anything I want to type except about thinking of all the things to do back in NYC: catch up with mail and papers, finances, indexing, calling friends, catching up with documenting this trip, starting on the next trip---just ENDLESS! I guess I really would like a Valium. I've had enough travel, and new places, and countryside drives, and packing and unpacking, and transcribing notes, and pulling my wristwatch with the terminally broken strap out of my pocket to see what time it is, and rationing camera shots, and putting up with Ken's throat-clearing, and eating foreign meals, and having to do things according to a schedule someone else has made up. Now at 7:30AM I decide to start my process of getting up: wash my face, comb my hair, dress, and take my first Valium of the end of the trip. 7:55: Mostly packed, Ken finishing in bathroom, and phone just rings, lying, saying it's 8AM. Ken continues packing. $200 cash left in shoulder-bag wallet. DEFINITELY no room for Wellies. Leave for breakfast at 8:07AM. We're second in the breakfast room: Ken has porridge, which he barely finishes half of, and a scrambled egg with tomatoes. I have great muesli, for which I compliment Jane Pitman, and two scrambled eggs with a "small" (quite large) side of sautéed mushrooms. Two cups of tea and two glasses of apple juice, while Ken has his orange juice and two POTS of strong coffee. He leaves at 9AM to go to the john, and I check the bill, for which the meals are momentarily in question until they find that their records show that our meals have been paid for, so it only leaves 103.5£ for drinks. Back to room at 9:08 to record this and go through a drinks list [drink prices are in fact listed behind]: it's so expensive that I THINK we'll be leaving no gratuity? What will Ken think about it? Ken "signs off" on the drink bill of 103.5£ at 9:12AM, and says that "since they're the owners," we won't be concerned about leaving an extra gratuity. I'm feeling better with a MODERATE breakfast in my stomach. Finished and all out at 9:19. Coed=forest, Betws=pre-Christian church. To Lladudno 10-10:30, walking along the red-paved broad pre-beach, past classic Victorian hotels with names like Imperial and Empress and Queens, and the Grand Hotel at the end of the beach with the amusement pier off to its right, and elegant hillside houses to its left. Lots of people on the beach, but no one in the water, maybe, yet. Roadside stand proclaims: "Everything under the bun." Enter Chester 11:15 and go round and round, map not helping at all with the many one-way streets. To McDonald's New Blossom Hotel at 11:35, just off the road turning right from the ornate tower of Eastgate. Room not ready until 2PM. Leave hotel at 11:55 with the luggage behind the desk, along with my jacket and Neo in Ken's bag. We go to the Information Office, and Ken buys and takes pain pills at 12:15 for his back, saying, "I'm glad it happened this late in the trip, or I may have had to cancel as I did cancel the trip to Spain." 12:20 Cathedral to 1PM with good audio and photos, except of outside. To Meze in "The Rows" for lunch at 1:06, except that Ken orders the Caesar salad and after a large number of minutes they say they're out of it and, having hassled the "no service" waitresses the whole time, he decides to leave at 1:19. Down the street and up the stairs again to "The Rows Cafe" at 1:22, order at 1:28, and at 1:40 comes the news "No more chili." I finally settle for the nachos, even cheaper, and Ken has his disliked Caesar salad, from which I eat the pineapple, olives, and cucumber slice that he particularly doesn't like. He pays 6£ and I pay 4£ and there's like 2 pence for the tip, but then there was no promptness whatsoever. He goes back to the room in pain, and I go to the Information Office to pay 4£ for the Roman tour, watching a DVD until "the Centurion" enters and gathers a group of about 17 on his tour. Chester's garrison was 20% larger than any other Roman garrison. In the amphitheater they fought wolves, bears, and boars. Mithras was born on 12/25, died and rose on the third day. Tour to 3:20 and get sort of lost getting back to the room at 3:35, Ken not there, have no problem getting the desk to let me into the room, and I start unpacking and watch TV to eat the orange, at last, that I saved from breakfast. Ken comes in and says we should go out for a drink at a nice table on the street. We leave at 4:05, searching for nonexistent places, he asking two or three for the next possibilities, but they're always totally full. We finally get to the secluded Terrace at Ten Chester, where I order a Black Forest Gateau with rum, cherry liquor, chocolate liquor, and cream, which DOES taste rather like a Black Forest cake with cinnamon and chocolate chips on top, which is delivered by a dreadlocked Black just after 5PM, which we'd ordered at 4:30, and we leave at 5:19 for Ken to go lie down, and me to go up onto the walls at 5:23, and go around taking characteristic pictures, not THAT interesting, but at least I could take a shot of the Cathedral tower from the outside from the walls. Schools, roads built up on the inside to match the level of the wall, houses and businesses along the inside of the wall, then rivers, the Race Course, and the Castle inside. Back to the hotel, tired, at 6:08. Shit and wash face to 6:23, then lie down for a bit and copy Frommer's list of the seven best British cathedrals: Westminster Abbey, Canterbury, Winchester, Salisbury, Durham, York, and Llandaff, so the only two I haven't seen, sort of southeast of London, are Canterbury and Winchester. Then dress for the Simon Radley at the Chester Grosvenor, a Michelin one-star restaurant, to 6:52; dinner 6:58-9:56: we were in first, at a corner table that enabled BOTH of us to look at the gathering crowd. WE had the first bread service by the angular-faced, sweetly accented, fiendishly cute Pole with no hips---and chose two each, which sadly were never supplemented. Then came the lobster, then I replaced the scallop (which Ken said was overcooked on the outside and undercooked on the inside) with the sweetbread cannelloni, simply superb with a thick slice of truffle and six or seven succulent rare slices of pigeon breast. Then what they called "Isle Flotante," with a sweet-potato soup on which were lovely islands of vegetable and a hunk of foie gras. Then lamb, tender under a good sauce, and he insisted on a hard cheese, while I had the runny Herndor (or something like that). Most wines were good, but the wine with the lamb was SO astringent on my tongue that I asked for a replacement. Then the palate cleanser of the apricot under cream atop "eggy bread" (fried bread) that Ken left part of, and then the Peach Melba, poorly wrapped with sugar that embittered the taste of the accompanying Montbazillac. We had a Breton waitress, one from Austria, a cocky one from Chester, and the increasingly beautiful Pole. Back to the hotel at 10:01, passing six or eight FLAMING queens on the street. Ken absurdly leaves a wake-up call for 9AM, and we're up to undress, and I start typing at 10:15. He lies on his bed and makes inane conversation until he turns off his lights at 10:48 after my stated finish in ten minutes is too much for him, and I finish this at 10:53PM, still a BIT too early to go to bed, enamored of the Pole that Ken said he'd love to see naked and was sure he was uncircumcised. Talk about wishful thinking. He AGAIN recalled the ENORMOUS cock between us at some john somewhere in the last few days, and I said that three of my five lovers were enormous: Bill, Bob, and Dennis, not to mention the "teen" length of Bob Broadway, surely not his real name. Now 10:57PM and I can think of nothing to say, and SURELY it's been an hour since I put the last food into my stomach, so I can go to bed at 10:58. Oh, and thank goodness Ken succeeded in requisitioning a FAN to alleviate the STUFFINESS of the room! Fall asleep almost immediately.

SUNDAY, 8/9/09: 3:59AM: Wake after VIVID dream and pee and type DREAMS:8/9/09 to 4:12AM, nose dripping. Take two aspirin for all the wine drunk last night. 6:45AM: Up to type dream to 6:48, nose still dripping. Shit (twice) and take a Valium at 6:57. Ken wakes me at 8:32 by opening the shades, I having slept surprisingly long. Shower to 8:53, and take a 1/2 melatonin at 9AM, when we go down to breakfast and Ken must return to the room for the letter saying we're entitled to it free. Breakfast 9:10-9:53, and up to brush teeth and start typing at 10AM, sunny and fresh outside. Nose still running. Eggs Benedict for breakfast: muffin NOT toasted, bacon was actually rather-non-salty ham. I had to ask for butter, and Ken stole part of my marmalade after using all the raspberry jam. Two cups of tea, lots of fruit, though the melon was unripe, and I leave apple uneaten in my dish because I wanted to get upstairs before he panicked. Dumped a clean pair of socks into the toilet as I was preparing to shower, and now have them before the fan on a towel on my bed, hoping they'll dry before we leave about noon; Ken already cautioning about the rush we must make to catch the train at 12:30, or whenever. Finish this at 10:05, Ken now saying he thinks he prepaid the Manchester hotel also, as he paid 80£ for this Chester hotel in advance. Leave at 10:10, paying 4£ each (the guide takes no cards) for the City Tour at 10:17. Tour starts 10:35. 1970s-built side Bell Tower prevented vibrations damaging church from bells in previous church-top tower. Grosvenors, richest people in Britain, live in Eaton Hall outside Chester, open to the public for charity events three times a year. Tour goes to 10:36, when I suggest to Ken that it's not that interesting, and then he agrees. He finds we're locked out of the room at 11:39! Ken goes down to come back with a key that works. I have 118 pictures left on my SECOND disk, which still has BUTANEPA photos on it! I start check-out procedure at 11:52, having no bills, and out to kerb at 12:01 to wait for a Kings Taxi, which she said two minutes ago would be here in five minutes. At 12:08 a Chester RADIO taxi stops and takes us to the station at 12:15, and I get tickets for the train (unknowingly leaving my Schwab Visa card behind!) to Manchester at 12:36. To platform 5 at 12:21, where Ken pokes into each window to see where to put his luggage. Doors open only at 12:34, and he ends up putting luggage (as I do) on seats marked for wheelchairs and not luggage. No one challenges it. Leave at 12:37 across from a family in which the daughter alternately abhors and loves the younger son, while the older son sleeps on the window, and the mother finally sits near me, showing she's uglier than the cute father and cuter son. Absolutely no picture opportunities, since we're mostly in a trench, and nothing but factories line the horizons. Off at 1:37 to a "lift" up and a "lift" down and go to a platform exit that has no taxi queue, and go way back around the other way to get a taxi at 1:51 that takes us PAST the prior railway station, and the Hilton Hotel, to the Marriott Victoria and Albert (named, Ken reads later, from a Victoria warehouse and an independent adjacent Albert warehouse) at 2:01. I reach for my credit card to pay, and it's not there! Think first of the Grosvenor Spa restaurant, but then remember the last purchase was the railroad tickets. The conscientious Polish desk clerk helps a lot after I've been to the room and torn everything apart hoping to find where I'd mistakenly put the card, but it's hopeless. Get the note card with the cancellation number (and, of course, the number of the card itself) and try to get to the Manchester Aviva station, but that doesn't help, so get the number of the Chester Station, and then the Chester Lost and Found, for which an automated voice announces it has "a queue and many objects" and asks for a description and a phone number. I leave the Marriott's number with hope, and Ken insists we leave for the Museum of Science and Industry. The fuss for the credit card lasted from 2:25-2:47! Get to the Museum just before 3PM, free entrance, and get told that the Textile Exhibit will take place in a few minutes. Get there for interesting machine works, and look at some of the products, and then I say I want to see the Locomotives and the Working Machinery in building 2, and then cross over to Air and Space in building 5, but first Ken wants to see the section on Gas at the far end of building 3, so we go through that and then separate. 1909 Avroplane was Britain's first flyer. This goes to 4:50, when he's chased from the far ends of the museum, and we walk back to the Marriott, where he suggests a drink, and I have the special V&A long refresher, and he has a Singapore Sling, and the Indian, oddly from Malaysia, serves us seductively, getting me a plate of mixed nuts into the bargain. Ken says he tips him generously, which he clearly did for a bill of almost 10£ for both drinks. That goes to 6PM, up to the room to glance through the daily papers and sort things out a bit more, and take another Valium at 6:20. Wash face and walk to the Ox for dinner at 6:30. Landlord isn't a great beer, but my traditional "rare" (not really) beef and Yorkshire pudding and mashed AND roast potatoes, and mashed carrots and Swedes (ugh) with an extra half-cup of gravy isn't bad, and Ken goes through his fish and chips with his desired tartar sauce, with a Yorkshire pudding on top that he refuses to savor with gravy! Poor GUY! That goes to 7:40 and we're to room at 7:55. I tackle the impossible task of organizing all the papers, partly in hopes of finding SOME evidence of my airline reservation, since I have neither a boarding pass NOR THE CREDIT CARD THAT I BOUGHT the ticket with. Oh, forgot to mention that I phoned Schwab and cancelled the card: I'll be getting a new number in 5-6 days, maybe sooner, and my current balance owed is "only" $5900, which I can't figure, but I'll have to handle it all when I get home. The Valium is working in that I really don't give a shit about anything, except the sexy smile of the Indian who beseeches us to come back for more drinks after dinner at the Ox. DO find my JFK-Manchester boarding pass, which Ken suggests might be able to access my whole itinerary, so I put that and the European map, and my keys, and my flight bag, into my shoulder bag, and manage to put all the papers into the suitcase, of course still without my dop kit and pills, having gotten rid of the Omega-3 bottle by filling 6 sections of my pillbox with four pills each. And I'll have to remember to double up on calcium, since I didn't have any this evening nor any to put into my boxes for tomorrow breakfast. Ken decided we can leave about 9AM, so we have an 8AM wake-up call, and I type until 9:30, trying to get everything down so that getting home IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS will be easier. Tired, and my right foot is beginning to hurt on the outside of the insole, and my left eyebrow is going crazy with long wild gray hairs, and Ken says my beard needs a trim. "I'm going to be home tomorrow," I reply acidly. Now to brush my teeth and undress and get to bed, since dinner has had more than TWO hours to digest, though I was yawning today because I slept TOO MUCH last night. Arriving in NYC at 2:45PM would be 7:45PM here, so that'd be 22 hours from a probable 9:45PM bedtime, leaving 10:15 hours for sleep before an 8AM wake-up call! 9:42: Now that magical 22 hours left in a 22-day trip. Bed IN fact at 9:48PM. Sleep quickly.

MONDAY, 8/10/09: 3:10AM: Wake and type DREAMS:8/10/09. I manage to type two lines and Ken knocks on the door! DAMN! Continue typing in the bedroom while he does whatever he does, stopping at 3:17AM. 5:51AM: Wake after one of the MOST awful nightmares, go into the bathroom, and there's a (bloodless, thank goodness) MOSQUITO low on the wall of the toilet enclosure that I strike at again and again, and STILL it remains in the enclosure, until finally I hit it directly, but it still squirms, and I hit it one last time and scrape the remains off the white porcelain tile with a piece of toilet paper, and it DOES seem to be a mosquito, and I drop it into the toilet and start typing my dream at 5:55AM. Finish typing at 6:04AM, having already slept roughly eight hours from bed at 9:48PM, with two waking intervals for transcribing dreams. However, I still feel vaguely sleepy, and my right foot still hurts; but the bed here is VERY comfortable, at least. And my nose isn't dripping! And Ken didn't interrupt my typing! 7:24AM: Managed to get back to sleep again and woke with another dream fragment. Type to 7:27AM and try to shit, glad that I'll be home in something like thirteen hours! 7:40AM: Do a satisfactory shit, wash my face, take melatonin (a bit early) and Valium, and put the lovely little white Aromatherapy soap into my dop kit, which I still manage to close, not bothering to think about cleaning my teeth after breakfast, only in getting out of the hotel. Will wait till Ken gets up by typing RANDOM THOUGHTS. 7:42AM: Trip almost over; in fact in as close to twelve hours as makes no difference we should be landing at JFK. Looked out the window and saw that it was cloudy, but bright and not raining. Glad that I've survived another trip, though the loss of the credit card was certainly a sad final blow. Ken's back is feeling very bad, and HE'S glad the trip is over. He's also looking forward to spending some last pounds on the estimated 18-20-pound taxi trip to the airport: he's not prepared to go the reverse public-transportation route we did to get into the city center from the airport when we arrived. Now I can look forward to proofreading ALL the files while waiting for the flight, hoping to be able to transfer to a right-hand window seat back in the 40s, unless I already have it. Also have to make SURE that this flight is registered to my Delta frequent-flyer plan. Organized all my papers in proper sizes, leaving the "small, non-Visa" package for my two HSBC withdrawals and my note cards, remembering that number 6 is still in my packet for recording the second list of expenses. Rather interested in the fact that I've only used ELEVEN cards for this 22-day trip: taking fewer notes, though I certainly expand on them while typing. Might even exceed the limits of file 5 while I'm waiting for the plane, though I don't think I'll get near the end of this file 4. And will be curious to print out the "junk" file 3 to see just how many random additions carrying it in my bag produced---and will remember to put it on file 3 when I pack it away this morning. Three meals left: breakfast in the hotel, then two on the plane, and will take my evening pills during the last meal at around 7PM LONDON time, even though it'll only be 2PM NYC time. And will have extra calcium pills to take to make up for not having them for my last three meals. Now 7:50AM, and can contemplate beginning to dress, getting Ken up before the 8AM phone call. He SAYS it's not unusual for him to sleep ten hours, but I was yawning yesterday because I slept too much the night before, I think. And of course I'll want to go to sleep as late as I comfortably can tonight, to get back the five-hour time difference between London and NYC. Finish this at 7:52AM, ready for the final day of the trip at last! Phone conveniently rings just as I get out of the bathroom and prepare to dress at 7:54. Ken answers it, then says, "Oh, my." I say, "You certainly slept, slept, slept," and he responds, "Because I took pills, pills, pills." Indeed. Cool in the room as I dress and type this at 7:57, Ken in bathroom. At 7:59 the phone rings again, announcing the time as 8:05AM, saying that if we hit any number they'll call back again, automated, in ten minutes. Ken's shaving. I turn the thermostat from 15 up to 20 degrees. Hallway is much warmer. Get the daily Times on the doorknob. Scan the Times and the August National Geographic before going down to breakfast from 8:18-8:50: good omelet with cheese, onions, and mushrooms (a bit too little of the last two); two cups of tea, and a bowl of self-constructed muesli. Didn't feel like I had room for fruit. Up to find Ken in the bathroom, fix evening pills, and finally close the bag at 9AM. Ready to leave at 9:07AM, feeling good. Taxi ready at 9:14. Into airport 9:41, 21£+ fare. Check in at 9:55, changing from 40A (on left) to 44F (last row on right). Through luggage check (my bag put through twice) with belt and Neo out, but shoes on, to 10:02. By 10:23 buy Amarula for 11.99£ (about $19.79) and Bailey's Caramel Cream for 12.90£ (about $21.30)---overcharged? Blue bag is now HEAVY, and Ken's getting no booze, so I can claim one of them is his, as woman in the Duty Free Shop suggested. Our gate opens only one hour before 11:45AM departure. Start typing at 10:26 and finish now at 10:30. Start proofreading file 1. Now recall items to add to my ALZ list: couldn't recall my ZIP code when asked by the Chester Lost and Found Automated Answering Service; KEN had to verify it was 11201, though I'm sure I would have gotten it had I started with "101 Clark...." Then had to think for more than a few minutes to come up with Odinsky's name again. Then losing my Schwab Visa was a boo-boo. 10:57AM: Gate finally listed as 204; we move there. 7:22 flight. Boarding announced about 11:20 and I continue typing to 11:35. Board at 11:45 and at first SEE no window at 44F and BITCH to stewardess, who can do nothing, but when I get back to the seat I find it HAS a window, and I displace a disappointed Indian boy from it. I pee first and sit at 11:50, and we back out at 11:52. Off at 12:16PM. Into clouds, but at least there IS a map on the TV screens this time. Finished proofing file 1 just as we took off. TV off 12:45-1:10 "because it had no chance to rest as we got in late and rushed to take off on time." BIG JOLT from passing plane's turbulence at 1:30, for which the pilot apologizes. I HOPE SO! Lunch at 1:33, rather skimpy chicken tenders, but at least I didn't have to settle for ravioli. Two little bottles of wine: first red, then white, then finish water and lunch. Proof file 2 2:16-3:14, tiring, having seen just the tiniest bit of Ireland, then lots of clouds, but now at 4:13 it's almost perfectly clear over the Atlantic, though they've kept the seat-belt signs on. I'm beginning to be bored. Finish proofing file 5 at 4PM. Pee at 4:05, and type from then to 4:15, proofing what I just typed. Go to proof file 4 [RANDOM THOUGHTS] at 4:18, over halfway there. Finish at 4:32, only 3:15 to go! Start proofing file 8. Then land appears below (northern Labrador, where I'll be at sea level next month!) at 5:04, no snow, lots of roads, some sizeable communities, very civilized looking, though with no discernible farms, I guess only grazing lands. Then over the Gulf of St. Lawrence at 5:20 and back to proofing file 8. Finish that, the last file to be done, at 5:39PM. Only 2:06 to go, which would be 7:45 on my watch and 2:45 NYC time. Can't WAIT! Snack at 6:35. Pee 7-7:10PM and shit a bit. Change watch from 7:14PM to 2:14PM. All obscuring clouds below, though we're still over the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Now to get my passport to fill out my entry card. Land visible most of the rest of the time, taking a picture of what might be Martha's Vineyard. Land at 2:45, and plane stops taxiing at 2:59. We're so far from the terminal that they're sending two people-movers to take us off, and one---lucky me!---stops at the BACK door, so I'm off nearly first at 3:07, and sit near the front, so I'm off bus at 3:17. THROUGH passport line at 3:20, surely a new record! To baggage carousel (which isn't moving yet) at 3:22, and Ken soon joins me, saying he's surprised to see me there first. Our bags come out VERY quickly, and we wheel through customs as fast as we can walk and are OUT at 3:34PM. Into taxi at 3:40 and travel a few yards, when the driver starts complaining that he can't take two people to two different destinations, he can't charge a flat rate, and he won't put on the meter. We argue back and forth, at one point threatening to get out of the cab and reporting him! Finally, in my gentlest voice, I request, "PLEASE turn on the meter." And he does, and it's fine after that. For an awful moment I think he's maliciously taken the WRONG direction on the Conduit, but then I see a sign for Atlantic Avenue and feel better. Ken and I chat nicely through the tie-ups on Atlantic Avenue and I'm off the taxi at 4:29 into the stifling 92° heat in front of 101 Clark Street. Pick up about a foot-thick pile of mail and put it all onto a dolly and take it upstairs, then take the dolly back down and immediately call Bill for my Times, and go down, chat, and bring them back up by 5PM. That finishes note card 11. Immediately check my Schwab account to 5:10 to find that I have $354 cash in my Schwab One, $201 in Roth, $299 in IRA, and $54,199 in Keogh! [Decide to take care of that NOW at 9:42PM on Thursday, 8/13. Finish at 10:11AM, having put $18,925 in Citigroup and $23,503 in Bank of America---hoping the entire economy doesn't go down the drain in the next year.] Then find I have 74 e-mails to 5:35, mostly junk, though I get TWO $80 credits from the Beard and a bill from Tris for $417.50. Play a losing Spider to 5:50, just opting out of more. Go through ALL the mail to 7:09, separating it into junk, stuff to look at later, and a few "look at NOW" items. Have dinner of a defrosted HH meal to 8, getting a phone call from someone who doesn't leave a message. Surprised to hear someone knock on the door and then ENTER WITH A KEY, and it's John---who may have called before to see if I were home and assumed I wasn't---to give me his new door key. Jerk off to 9, watch a comedy special to 10, and then the first part of Sylvia until 11:15PM, when my eyes are just CLOSING. I'm amazed I've actually lasted THIS long, seeing as it's 4:15AM in my recently left Manchester. Unpack a few things to get my evening pills, but the living room is just a total mess: three piles of Times on the sofa, mail strewn over the floor, table loaded with luggage (which I at least weighed), and a list of five messages taken from the phone machine: 1) Edgardo saying two or three unintelligible words, 2) Shelley welcoming me back early on 8/4, 3) Caesar asking about trip insurance, and two messages from Allan A. from Prime Timers. The phone is signaling a low battery. Go to bed at 11:30PM, thinking of all the things I have to do tomorrow: phone calls, Schwab checking---but, ultimately, DELIGHTED to be in my own bed without having to worry about anyone else using the bathroom at night. Probably fall asleep well before midnight, exhausted, thumb hurting even after I soaked it in peroxide, but otherwise feeling surprisingly good. END OF BRITWALE TRIP.

BRITWALE SUMMARY

MON,7/20: Dine at Chili's. Fly JFK-MAN 10:50PM-9:53AM: 6:03 flight!
TUE,7/21: Manchester Jurys Hotel, Information Office, lunch at Tetley's, then library, Lincoln's statue, St. Ann's Church. The Ox for dinner. Bed 10:27PM.
WED,7/22: Costa breakfast, Art Museum and Cafe lunch, Ferris wheel, Manchester Cathedral, Hilton Hotel Cloud 23 drinks, dinner at Evuna Spanish tapas bar.
THU,7/23: Jurys Hotel breakfast, to Victoria Station train to York Mount Royale Hotel. Hole-in-the-Wall lunch before York walking tour. Earl Grey Tea Room hot chocolate. Dinner at decent Blue Bicycle, walk back to hotel, and bed at 10:22.
FRI,7/24: Huge Eggs Benedict breakfast, train to Durham Cathedral for tour, then back for York Minster with Chapterhouse closed. Ivy Brasserie for poor dinner, taking shortcut back to hotel, tired, and bed at 11:17PM, noise below.
SAT,7/25: Huge DOUBLE Eggs Benedict breakfast, taxi to Castle Howard for walk-through, two hour-tours, snack, taxi back to beer in garden, then Melton's good dinner, moaning about hotel's taking my two "empty" pill boxes. Bed at 11PM.
SUN,7/26: British breakfast before walk to Jorvik Scandinavian Center, then Barley House, to York Minster for Chapterhouse, then good Yorkshire Museum and exhausting National Railroad Museum, with a snack. Poor Mount Royale dinner.
MON,7/27: Train to Cardiff 11:49AM-4:31PM. Meet Daniel and move into Elgano. Walk Bute Park and dine in Y Black Pig. Bed at 9:46PM, still stuffed by dinner.
TUE,7/28: Great Cardiff Castle tour, then Cardiff Museum. Drive to Llandaff Cathedral, one of Frommer's seven greatest, then to St. Fagan's National Historical Museum to 5PM. Ice water at Elgano, walk through Millennium Hall, dine in Bosphorus Restaurant, not the best. Ice-cream dessert; bed at 10:55.
WED,7/29: See Roman amphitheater in rain and tour Caerleon Museum and Baths. Tintern Abbey in wet, then fabulous lunch at The Crown at Whitebrook* for $163.43. Walk Monmouth and Raglan Castle, dinner-snack at Blackbrook. 10:25 bed.
THU,7/30: Conservatory breakfast and drive to Blaenavon World Heritage Pit Site. Tour Baths, and stop at ASDA for picnic lunch. To base of Pen-y-Fan and Penderyn Whiskey distillery. Drive Brecon Beacons and Rhonnda Valley (getting lost), and phone about Schwab Visa hassle. Dinner at Nant-ddu and bed 10:45PM.
FRI,7/31: Phone Schwab, have breakfast, drive to Melin Court Falls, and to Swansea for the Vivien Art Gallery. To Maritime Museum and Attic Gallery. Dylan Thomas Guild Hall lunch. Swansea Museum Cabinet of Curiosities. Back to Maritime Museum, exhausting, and drive to Rhossili to Worm's Head Hotel dinner.
SAT,8/1: Walk to point, have breakfast with great view. Pembroke Castle and Sainsbury's takeaway lunch. St. Govin's chapel at seaside, Stockpole Quay, and through Tenby to Elm Grove, beautiful hotel. Long wait for Plantagenet House dinner with Julie and Maria, filling, go latest to bed at 12:05AM.
SUN,8/2: Carew Castle, Milford Haven, New Gale Beach, and wonderful St. David's Cathedral, shopping for lunch while taking flower pictures. To Porthgain, Fishguard, Pentre Ifan burial, and to Elm Court. Dine at Qube, OK. 10:25PM bed.
MON,8/3: Lampeter, St. David's College, Aberstwyth, Portmeirion with tea in hotel; walk woods. To Fairhaven Hotel in Betws-y-Coed, and Eisteddfod concert.
TUE,8/4: Conwy Castle, Guild Hall, outer walls, blackberries, Beaumaris, picnic lunch, Caernarfon Castle and exhibits. To Eisteddfod for hog dinner and concert.
WED,8/5: J/o, Information Office, Eisteddfod shops, songs, dances, and lunch. Valle Crucis, Dinas-Bran (Arthur's?), Llanfair.., change rooms, dine at Bistro.
THU,8/6: Train up Mt. Snowden to cloud. Slate Cafe lunch at Slate Museum. Visit St. Mary the Virgin church, Swallow Falls, to beautiful Tan-y-Foel and dinner.
FRI,8/7: Stroll around Betws, Alpine Coffee Shop snack, Ffestiniog train ride, Portmeirion and Harlech Castle pictures, lemonade on lawn, dinner, and SUNSET!
SAT,8/8: Walk Lladudno beach, drive to Chester to McDonald's New Blossom Hotel. Information Office, Cathedral, Rows Cafe lunch, Roman tour, Terrace at Ten Chester for drinks, dinner at Simon Radley* @ Chester Grosvenor Spa for $222.23.
SUN,8/9: Chester city tour, train (lose credit card) to Manchester, to Marriott Victoria and Albert Hotel, Museum of Science and Industry. The Ox for dinner.
MON,8/10: Buy booze, fly MAN-JFK 12:16-2:45PM (7:29 flight). Mail, bed 11:30PM!