Trip in the UK 2010

Part III

Saturday, April 24th 

Once awake, I ate yet another sturdy English breakfast brought into the world by the friendly and gentle owner of Staylittle Farm B&B, Dawn.  Afterwards, I paid the bill, left Dolgellau and headed south to a town just three miles east of St. Davids known as Solva.  I checked into the Royal George (which was simply three rooms above a pub) and despite the fact that the room was a little tired and that there was random box spring mattress standing up the tall way in the hallway (for no apparent reason) right outside of my door, I enjoyed a solid ocean view from my bedroom window.

I then did a short walk out by the shoreline and up some hill/cliff where again, inspirational views were to be had by my eyes.  I returned to room, washed up and relaxed like a well-mannered chap.  It was at that point that a large family checked into the other two rooms and I discovered that the entire floor I was staying on was like one big trampoline.  Every time these kids jumped around, I could feel my room shake as well.  Be that as it may, it did not stop me from the final stages of my afternoon relaxation.  I then left the Royal George and drove to St. Davids where I walked around a bit, ate a delightful pork and apple affair and drove back to my B&B in Solva. 

To get to my room, I had to walk through what was now a very busy pub.  Great, I thought, I’m staying in a Welsh frat house.  Once in my room, I got into bed and encountered a mattress so old that it poked me all over my body, making me feel like I was being passed along the top of a crowd with their hands.  This, however, did not stop me from approaching a sleepy state with the help of “Predator” on television.

Sunday, April 25th  

This morning I got out of bed and opened my door.  Although the box spring was now gone from the hallway, it was replaced by a sleeping dog.  Perhaps this was Royal George?  Perhaps he was the esteemed creature that gave this elite establishment its name?  Or maybe it was some crappy wizard that was drunk at the pub a couple nights ago and accidentally put a spell on himself, turned himself into a box spring and then in attempts to reverse the spell, turned himself into a dog.  I gave this issue not another thought and instead walked downstairs with Royal George who decided to follow me down.  As I ate my breakfast, Royal George (who I now found out was actually named Manni) slept at my feet.

After paying the bill, I got in the car and drove back in to England and into the small city of Bath.  I checked into Holly Villa Guesthouse and soon realized I was in an infinitely nicer place than the last night although part of me missed having a random dog in the hallway, right outside my door. 

My room at the Holly Villa was immaculate with a brand new bathroom attached to the room or “en suite” as we like to say in the travel industry.  As decadent as the room was, I chose to leave it and explore Bath.  And let me tell you, Bath is a stunning city.  Beautiful.  I want my children to be as gorgeous as Bath.  Its Roman origins are detectable in almost every point of its center that has escaped an ugly, modern facelift that plagues so many other places in the world that once were charming and unique.

I walked around aimlessly like a jazzy, welcome aroma emanating from the most celebrated bakery.  This aroma (me) wandered up to the park near the Royal Crescent and through the Botanical Gardens that gifted this aroma with so many soul-pleasing aromas of its own.  There were more colors to be found here than a gay pride parade or in a pack of Lifesavers.  It seemed everything was in bloom.

I finished here and worked my way back into town and decided to watch “The Ghost” with Pierce Brosnan and Ewan McGregor in a small little theater.  This is a good film people.  Check it out.  Hungry from all of my entertainment, both natural and cinematic, I ate an effective meal at a Thai restaurant. 

After my meal, I found a neat pub with a diverse beer selection and a very loungey feel to it by the name of the Westgate.  My other purpose of coming here was to take down a dessert for I had decided earlier that this must be so and let me tell you something about myself: when I decide that I want some sort of special food experience, nothing will avert me.  If I had the same passion and determination with my career or the romantic elements of my life, I would be a Mormon with 20 beautiful wives living in a huge teepee made of solid, 5000-carat gold due to my successful career in talking. 

When I looked on their menu and saw they were selling a brownie with vanilla ice cream (one of my favorites), I noticed myself becoming slightly thrilled.  So while I waited for my treat, I drank a beer and read Gulliver’s Travels on a couch in the pub like a cultured goon.  When my dessert arrived, I was sadly let down.  The brownie was a little small and dry and there was literally a golf ball-sized scoop of ice cream.  Lame.

I carried on with my beer and reading and walked back to my B&B and slept.

Monday, April 26th

Today’s English breakfast was very nice and included a well-engineered bowl of fresh fruit salad.  This, of course, pleased me.

And with that pleasure, I walked back in to the city center to inhale its beauty once more.  During my walk, I stopped into a craft shop and bought some bracelets for my little lady nieces as I would be seeing them in a month’s time at the airport. 

Feeling at peace with my Bath sojourn, I boarded my Vauxhall and drove back to London and dropped off the car.  That night, I and/or Barry Tattle enjoyed the feel of a new, tight, black velvet suit for the third time since its glorious purchase in Camden a couple weeks previously and made it so at a show at the Blue Posts in London.    

Weepingly, we have come to the end of this tale but in a few weeks time, I will sprinkle a tale concerning a Swedish journey into your life.

I am,

Chris

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