Believed by its residents to be God’s Own Country, Wales has well and truly captured my heart over the years, whether conquering Cader Idris for the first time with my beloved Aunty Lynne, exploring the fabulous Dolgoch waterfalls or the quirky Italian village at Portmeirion.
But when Bri and Sasha started visiting my Uncle Alan’s caravan near Corris, it took on a whole new meaning, as they fell every bit in love with the place as I did. Initially, our walks centres around the same places Lynne showed me, and Sasha scampered up Cader like a mountain goat. We tried not to worry as she went right up to the edge of the various precipices. Barmouth was a solid favourite and I loved the Last Inn, with its indoor water feature and myriad fairy lights.
South Wales
My first experience was in the early eighties, when a few hours down to Ross-On-Wye would get us to Barry Island, where we found a rather strict landlady of a B&B who reluctantly allowed us to share a double room in the days when lack of a wedding ring still mattered. She eventually warmed to us after the 3rd trip. It was a great base for exploring places with cute names like the Mumbles and Ton-y-Pandy. The only thing I remember about Cardiff was the huge, modern cathedral.
Mid Wales
We loved the van so much that when Alan was thinking of giving it up, we paid the ground rent for several years before buying it off him in 2020. We didn’t manage to get down until June that year, because a week after it opened in March, the government in their anything-but-wisdom closed the borders. Literally on the day we planned to travel down there. Since then, we spend 3 or 4 days every other week from March till it closes in November (except school holidays, when we avoid the dozens of kids playing Lord-of-the-flies).
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