At 3,156 feet/962m, Yr Elen — it may just mean Helen or Eleanor, or it might mean “The Leech”; you decide, that’s Welsh for you — is apparently the ninth-highest mountain in Wales. The last of five biggish lumps of rock that I negotiated today. More details on the other blog, as ever.
A very pleasant day today, and these caught the light perfectly. And I got them in focus, too: there’s quite a long zoom being deployed here.
This is one of those occasions where a whole new location (the 479th, in fact) gets on the blog with a shot that could be taken anywhere. These poppies are currently flowering behind one of the stands of Brickfield Rangers FC, who play on the outskirts of Wrexham in north-east Wales, a town that had previously not offered up a picture in thirteen-plus years, and may not do so again.
As no one really gives a toss whether I turn up at the office or not — particularly not in August — why not take the opportunity to get on a train, do a few hours’ work on the day, but still then take the afternoon off and spend it somewhere nice and sunny? The Conwy/Llandudno region is a fine-looking part of the world (as we discovered when we came here eight years ago). These kinds of regular Days Out are probably what it will take to keep me going for the rest of my life, spiritually — so let’s take the chances while they still come. And when the trains are working.
The day had various different, good elements to it, and I couldn’t decide which of them should make the blog: so let’s go with the scene caught in passing, an Other People’s Art moment which I liked a lot. Seems to totally fit the Spanish text below.
I worked out that before today, I had been to 25 of the top 30 cities in the UK ranked by population: as of today I have now been to 26, as I (and Clare) paid a first-ever visit to Swansea this weekend. And among the things I discovered about the second-biggest place in Wales was that it has a superb beach, which seems to stretch for miles. Early January isn’t necessarily the optimal time to visit such a place, but so what?
After a few weekends recently which have ended on a Monday morning at King’s Cross station — like this one, say — a weekend that, instead, ended on a Monday morning at Cardiff Central station. At least I managed to get on the first truly punctual public transport service experienced since leaving home on Friday morning. I like how the light falls on this one: this is not direct sunlight, instead it is being reflected off the facade of the BBC building across the plaza, behind me.
I did get better pictures today but none which epitomised the day quite so well. Garth Hill became County Top #2 of the weekend, but the weather on its summit was, to coin a phrase, utter shite. What this chair was doing up there I have no idea but perhaps it had just been blown there from someone’s garden half a mile away. For the full tale of woe see my other blog.
The Cardiff Bay barrage was built in the 1990s, at huge expense, specifically to get rid of what were perceived as unattractive mudflats, and thus prepare the land for colonisation by the Great God Commerce: which seems to have subsequently taken place. It’s not an unattractive piece of engineering, I guess. Out there is the island of Flat Holm, which still counts as Wales, so this isn’t another shot that depicts the land of more than one country. (There have been three of these: two with England and Wales (both around the Dee Estuary), and one with England and France.)
Sometimes you just stumble across places. This old, ruined mine sits above Blaenavon in the south Wales valleys; I found it while bagging my latest County Top. I would argue it was not only the most interesting but also the most attractive thing about the day. There have been points of time in the past where something like a quarter of the iron and steel production of the entire world was based around south Wales. Believable as that stat is, this is what’s left.
Holyhead railway station is one of those that is definitively The End Of The Line. A terminus, a cul-de-sac, all change please. You get off into a tangle of docks and railway lines and have to depend on this bridge to take you over all this and into the town. I like this shot as (unlike yesterday) it was one of those that has turned out exactly as I hoped when I pressed the shutter.
Being 42 