Wales Weekend

Before returning to Cambridge, Mum spent a couple of days in London on the way back from Paris. With plans in place to go to Wales for the weekend, I prepared myself for the journey by going out with housemate Kieran for a big one for his birthday (final bottle of wine after going home from Vaults definitely was not necessary). Nonetheless, by 3:30 on Friday, we were armed with a hire car and ready to go. The trip to Cardiff was pretty slow thanks to M11 and M4 traffic, but we made it safely, having enjoyed a delightful Burger King meal at a wonderfully atmospheric roadside food and entertainment complex (all the soul of an airport departure lounge or train-station, but with cars).
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We sprang up bright and early the next morning and drove into the "city"centre in Cardiff. Strolled about town, taking in the sights and delights,

(Apparently, a goat major is the guy who looks after the regimental goat, specifically so in the case of the Royal Welch Fusiliers who have a caprine tradition dating back to 1775)

Brains is the Welsh national beer, ironically named, in terms of being a beer, I mean, not in terms of being Welsh.

Wandered past Cardiff Castle, and around Bute Park,

then on to the Art Gallery.

Saw an exhibition entitled "Victorian Dreamers", Pre-Raphaelites and what-have-you from various collections in Wales, presumably initially funded from the proceeds of coalmines and steelworks.

Also checked out the nice collection of Impressionist paintings, including some by Sisley who lived in Wales for a while,

and some excellent Monets.

What a strange and wonderful world we live in that we go to Wales to see French pictures of Venice. The endowment of impressionist paintings from the collectors Margaret and Gwendoline Davies means that Cardiff has probably the best impressionist selection in the UK outside of London. Similarly, the endowment by Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn of various Dutch, Italian, renaissance, baroque etc paitings gives Cardiff a gallery worthy of a European capital.
Noted a study for the Wheel of Fortune by Burne-Jones, one of a number by him - one is in the NGV in Melbourne and another is in the Musee d'Orsay.

Drove into the hills north of Cardiff to Castell Coch, a medieaval fantasy built by another "Victorian Dreamer" Lord Bute, who could afford to indulge his knights-and-castles whims because he owned most of the ports at Cardiff through which vast amounts of coal was shipped.

Had an authentic Welsh lunch of lamb cawl and bara brith (welsh fruitcake, literally speckled bread),

then checked out the Castel

The countryside around was beautiful, more like parts of Germany than like what i'm used to in England (in the fens anyway).

Driving further north, we went through the Rhondda Valley and had a good old chortle about Mum's name.

The mines have closed now but the area still celebrates its colliery heritage.

Next stop, the town of Caerphilly famed for its Castle, situated on an island in a lake, looking pretty spectacular in the late afternoon light.

Went down to the regentrified Cardiff Bay area for dinner.

This is a Norwegian church, a throwback to the days when the port attracted workers and sailors from all over the place, and the place where Roald Dahl was baptised. Norway, whilst never having any colonies of its own (unless you count Newfoundland, and for that matter England and Ireland, in the days of the vikings), has always played a big role in nautical activities and contributed more than its share of sailors many of whom came through Cardiff.

Had a look at the new Millenium arts centre which is pretty speccy.

Called it a day, despite some issues getting the car out of the carpark after we'd basically been parked in. Started reading The White Earth by Andrew McGahan which was so compelling that i finished it in one sitting - a fantastic, at times chilling, evocation of the essence of the Australian bush & outback and exploration of connection-with-the-land.
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Mum had heard from a Welsh taxi-driver in Cambridge that the place to go for scenic seaside sightseeing in Wales is Barry. That may be; it was hard to tell how scenic Barry was through the fog and driving rain. In retrospect, it would have been good to go the previous evening when the weather was slightly more conducive to seaside activities.

Had a stroll out to the headland to observe the Turner-esque sky:

searched in vain for a stick of Barry Rock that had i found it would have completed the naff British seaside experience, then got in the car: "Let us never speak of Barry again".

We drove through the Brecon Beacons, which were gorgeous.

Stopped for lunch in the town of Brecon

and had a look at Brecon Cathedral.

Drove through Monmouth and down the Wye Valley

to Tintern Abbey.

Drove back through the Cotswolds, though unfortunately the weather was pretty inclement so could attain very limited appreciation of their oft-vaunted scenery. Stopped off in Oxford for dinner (giant Yorkshire pudding - come to papa) and to enable me to walk around saying how Cambridge is soooooo much nicer. Reserving judgement until i can go back during the day and have a proper look around. Zoomed down the M4, M25 and M11 back to Cam to deliver Mum to her BnB.