New Years in Wales

A weekend in South Wales for New Years sounded like a great plan. The village called Glasbury was in the Wye valley, not far from the Brecon Beacons National Park. We checked into our hotel/pub late in the afternoon, and it soon became obvious that we had lucked out as far as accomodation goes. Literally cardboard walls seperating the rooms, and noisy welsh neighbours, a 'great' combination.

The only saving grace was a fancy dress new years party in the pub, which was packed full with the whole village. I was Dr Doolittle (possibly the village idiot), Jacks was an Indian Princess, and her mom a sailor. We settled in quite nicely for a while, especially with some great real ales on offer. All came crashing down however when dinner was served. A selection of completely tasteless delights on offer. I could have cooked a better curry in the dark, using only my feet. Jacks and I managed to see the new year in, and got a bit of sleep, while learning more than we needed to know about our neighbours (whose new years resolution seemed to be more tap dancing).

The next morning we were told that a cooked breakfast was unlikely, as the kitchen was a disaster area. We were also told that the chef had really had a good party, and was feeling quite rough. After breakfast we checked out (a day early), telling the owner that his hotel was well below average in the noisy pub category.

As the sun lifted over the mountains of Wales so did our spirits. We found a fantastic country road and drove off towards the ruins of an abbey in the Brecon Beacons, passing a million sheep on the way. Welsh lamb tastes so good, because they enjoy a life with amazing views. I have always maintained that happy animals taste better.

After arriving at the abbey, we shoved our walking shoes on and made our way up an extremely muddy hillside. Really worth the effort, as we had great views through a beautiful and wild valley.

The drive back took us over the Severn Estuary, and back into England. Our next port of call was Bradford-upon-Avon, not far from Bath. A beautifully picturesque village on the river Avon (as the name suggests), it also boasts wonderful walks along a canal. On the way back to London, we drove up to Norton-St Phillips, where we enjoyed a freshly baked cake, and a good glass of wine with Jacks' aunt and uncle.