My wife and I recently returned from a two week trip to England and Wales. We normally fly over for a long weekend at Thanksgiving to visit with my daughter, grand daughter and son-in-law, but I suddenly realized that I hadn’t returned home to Wales in over five years and I was anxious to see the old homeland. It also gave us an opportunity to look up other relatives whom we had not seen in a good while.
The first port of call was Devon to spend the first few days of our trip where the highlight was my 18 month grand daughter who continues to amaze and entertain us. I didn’t realize at this stage but the two week hiatus would evolve into a culinary safari beginning with fish and chips (cod in batter which the Americans can’t quite master) and the inevitable Devon tea comprising scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam, and tea brewed in a teapot.
I played a round of golf with my son-in-law at Teign Valley Golf Club in Christow near Exeter which has the distinction of recording one of the longest holes in one on a par 5. Club member Shaun Lynch achieved the feat in 1995 with a 3-iron on the 496-yard No.8. According to a 2004 article in Golf World magazine, Lynch aimed straight toward the green on a horseshoe par-5 clearing a 20-foot high hedge; then hitting a downslope on the other side. The downslope carried his ball to the green and into the cup. There is a plaque alongside the tee box commemorating his extraordinary effort.
The five days visiting my grand daughter passed too quickly, but it was time to head for the land of my fathers, Wales. We crossed the Severn Bridge into Wales having paid 6 pounds and seventy pence toll for the privilege of entering my country, and duly arrived in the nation’s capital Cardiff where my brother and sister-in-law live. My brother had arranged an itinerary for our brief visit and upon arrival we were whisked off to the Millennium Stadium, national home and headquarters of Welsh rugby. The visit and special effects were enthralling particularly the audio accompaniment as we emerged from the dressing room into the seething cauldron of 70,000 simulated Welsh voices baying for blood.
My brother had made dinner reservations at a gastro pub with a Welsh theme, and the meal was outstanding. This was followed by a quick tour of the City which confirmed my fears that Cardiff was now light years ahead of my home town, Swansea, but more on that theme later. My brother had not finished entertaining us until the next morning when he cooked a traditional Welsh breakfast comprising laver bread, cockles, bacon, fried egg, fried bread and grilled tomato. Laver bread is an acquired taste but to the Welsh connoisseur it’s an exquisite way to begin the day.
Indeed the breakfast was a splendid way to send us on the relatively short trip to Swansea where I was born and raised before emigrating to America in 1996. I was a town planner for over 20 years based in Swansea and naturally I was anxious to learn what had happened to the “ugly dirty town” in my absence.
In hindsight I wouldn’t have been so depressed if I had avoided the city center (America’s equivalent of downtown.)Alternatively, I should have turned my back on the city and looked out towards the adjacent Maritime Quarter which is a little frayed around the edges but retains a comfortable atmosphere. I believe 20 million pounds was spent on refurbishing the Quadrant Bus Station which looks exactly the same as the original, but with a coat of fresh paint, a moderate number of technical innovations, and no graffiti (yet!)
High Street and Castle Street once provided an integral element to Swansea’s shopping center, but is now generally boarded up and strewn with incandescent posters advertising events that occurred 10 years ago. On Sunday morning, a workforce of bored laborers were erecting a series of wooden sheds along Oxford Street to house a Christmas Fair giving the City Center as much appeal as a steamy night in downtown Beirut. In contrast Cardiff is now a modern and vibrant 21st Century City while Swansea resembles a third world hovel. It makes me very sad and bewildered.
Thankfully, the Gower peninsula remains relatively unharmed thanks to AONB status and ironically inclement weather. Gower comprises some of the best beaches in the world, but the area is saved from an invasion of tourists of monumental proportions by the beaches’ relative inaccessibility and unpredictable appearances of the sun. Pennard Golf Club with its magnificent views of Three Cliffs Bay remains one of my favorite locations in the world. Not many golf courses include medieval castle ruins with cows and sheep permitted to graze over the links. Playing the 18th hole to a backdrop of a sunset can be quite mystical.
Lunch was partaken in the Beaufort Arms in Kittle and I couldn’t resist ordering faggotts and mushy peas; much to the chagrin of my long suffering wife. We had a good visit with my cousins; catching up with family gossip. At one point we thought we were in the middle of a live episode of Gavin and Stacey but only funnier! Following a breakfast comprising “bacon butties” my cousin gave us a quick tour of the “SA1 Project” which is intended to breathe life into the “ugly dirty town.” I do hope so, but don’t hold your breath.
Dear David and Theresa,
Dad emailed me this link – it’s wonderful. You write really well David: witty, observant and thoughtful.
Next time you visit, pop in to London to see me. I’m in a lovely 4 bed Vicarage in a groovy end of town – about 4 miles from the centre near Greenwich. I’m high on a hill overlooking Canary Wharf and the city of London’s sky line. It’s magnificent.
My job is wonderful. I’m in a multi-racial CofE church – half white british, half nigerian, with some jamaicans. It’s traditional, but with a lively, friendly heart. The area is very arty (but without being up itself) and I’m really at home here. I share the house with a good friend (an old colleague from my previous 15 year career in publishing). It’s a smashing house to have – we’ve got a study each, bedrooom each and a lovely shared kitchen, dining room and lounge, as well as a big garden. We’ve got a spare room for grown ups (that’s you guys) and a spare room for children – between us we’ve got 10 godchildren/nephews/nieces – so it’s in constant use.
I’m still doing a bit of music – a whizz on the ukulele and taking time out to see films, art and theatre. Being a priest is busy and can turn into a 24/7 existence, but I try not to let it do that.
Been travelling a bit – this year spent two weeks in in Morroco – including one night in the desert sleeping under the stars. Pretty amazing stuff.
Was 40 this year and had a huge party in the Vicarage garden with 145 guests – was a blast.
Mum and dad keep me up to date with your news and pictures, so although it’s been a long, long time I do feel like I do know a bit about what’s happening in your lives.
Trip to Wales sounds a lot of fun.
Much love to you both,
Sheridan