Sunday, 14 July 2013

By request.

On my brother's blog I posted a comment which included an extract from a longer anecdote from my 58 day walk round the Welsh Boundary in 2011. I was requested by Rouchswalwe, one of my brother's commenters to publish the whole story so here it is. Apologies to those who have previously read it, and more apologies to those who have read it and heard it several times before.

We all like to repeat our favourites don't we?
---------------------------------

Day 55 - Monday 13th June 2011.

From my journal:

I camped at Newgale at the northern end of Newgale Sands, a huge three kilometre sweep of golden beach which attracts the surfers.
From my journal:
I’m eating this evening in The Duke of Edinburgh which is also residential. I had enquired if I could get breakfast tomorrow, but they said they didn't do breakfasts which I found difficult to believe.

This place seems to be staffed by, and frequented by a caste reminiscent of Little Britain; everybody seems weird - perhaps I have finally flipped? Some examples: a small Bernie Ecclestone like guy who has just come and complimented me on the way I ate my soup - "very few people do it properly these days, nice to see". A woman wearing a black jacket and tight black trousers (Richard the Third), but with hair like Worzel Gummage. An elderly couple - the man goes to the bar to ask for more lemonade in his lager - returns to find wife with head in hands, "are you having one of your moods" he asks, and then they move to another table. An elderly man on his own, looking depressed with head bent staring at a glass of lemonade which he does not appear to be drinking. There are more but I draw the line here. Amidst all this the hotel is presented as being reasonably sophisticated but we are subject to a television showing Coronation Street which nobody is watching.
Bravely, I am going to risk a dessert and hope to get out before I end up in the loony bin.
Believe it or not a guy has just walked in who is over seven feet tall.
I'm off!

4 comments:

Rouchswalwe said...

I hear music in the background ... that creepy melody in bad B movies ... yet you describe the place and its characters with charm and aplomb. Thank you for indulging my request, Sir Hugh! (Lemonade in Lager?! Shiver me timbers!)

Sir Hugh said...

Rouchswalwe - I don't often drink lager, but I agree with you that adding lemonade, or even worse lime deserves criminal justice. I much prefer our traditional draught beer which has improved enormously over the last ten years or so with many small independent breweries supplying a small number of pubs within a short radius of their location.

For me beer is for quaffing in large mouthfuls, and not for sipping, and I reckon that taking the ABV much beyond 4.0% is not compatible with quaffing.

gimmer said...

it sounds as though the Barge Inn is in the same league, if not quite so champion

a bizarre delight by the western sea, but I suspect seemed more an existential threat in deep farming England, cold comfort though that may be!

Sir Hugh said...

gimmer - The Welsh one was quirky, and as you say not threatening, except for potential danger to one's mental health.

The Barge was just hippy-tacky-rough.