Skip to main content

Perygl in Wales

 "Per-gol" Toby said, reading the sign.  "Hey, that's a much better word than Danger.  Welsh is great!"

Actually, the word is Perygl and comes out more like pear-reyg-l, but it didn't really matter - the boys had already fallen in love with everything Welsh, and were happily agreeing that all the words were far more interesting than their English equivalents.

We seemed to encounter a lot of perygl on our two days in Wales.  Signs warned us against flying golf balls, steep drops, deep water and narrow roads, but fortunately we survived unscathed apart from one scraped shin (that was Theo falling off a rock).  In fact, it was a remarkably good short break, with perfect weather, beautiful scenery, and the main attraction: a big blue camper van to carry us around.



Graham's friend Ben had converted the van a couple of years ago, and kindly agreed to lend it to us for the weekend at the end of half term.  After a rather last-minute search for places to park it overnight, we headed for Harlech, a little seaside town on the west coast of Wales.  This turned out to be a good idea.

Harlech has a huge sweep of a beach, a castle perched up on a rocky hillside, a golf course (hence the flying golf balls) and a little train that comes chuntering through every couple of hours.  It was lovely.


We spent the morning doing the obligatory digging on the beach, and discovering dead jellyfish. 


 

 

In the afternoon we walked up the hill to the castle.  It's small, for a castle - I think it would have got claustrophobic being besieged there for very long - but there's a lot of it still standing.  We walked around the top of the walls (perygl - steep drops) and back down the hill to the Water Gate, built long ago when the sea covered the golf course, the sand dunes and the railway station, and the besieged inhabitants were kept alive by supplies on boats from Ireland.


 

Can you spot the blue camper van?


After all that climbing, we needed an icecream!

 

Much as we liked Harlech, we had somewhere else to be for our second night.  Llangollen was on our route home, and we'd decided that two short hops would be easier than another long drive.  So we packed up the van again (got the stool? turned off the gas? removed the rattly cooker grill?) and drove back across Snowdonia.  Fortunately our second stop had an equally beautiful view - and a good pub meal, too.

 

Next morning we drove to Horseshoe Falls, where the Llangollen Canal leaves the River Dee.  We'd been here before, a few years ago - look how tiny Theo was then!

Then...

 
...and now.

It's a pleasant walk along the path between the canal and the river into Llangollen town.  We watched white water rafters braving the rapids, hopped around on the rocks beside the river, inspected some old cars outside of Llangollen Motor Museum (sadly closed until next year) and passed a horse towing a narrowboat.


 

Llangollen provided us with lunch, some delicious cakes, and a few souvenirs.  It has a lot more bustle to it than Harlech, with a street full of eateries and the kind of shops which sell "A Present from Wales" teatowels and personalised fridge magnets.  

We saw a couple of families of ducklings, and the boys practised their parkour skills on the rocks one last time (that was the scraped shin).




Sadly, then, it was time to head out of the land of perygl and back into the land of boring mono-lingual road signs.  I think we'll be back, though.




Comments

Unknown said…
Lovely pictures Martha, we love Wales too and hope to go back again soon. Bob worked on the Ffestiniog Railway as a youth and has been a member ever since and that's not too far from Harlech in Porthmadog. Much love to you all Rosie

Popular posts from this blog

I have a piano!!!

OK, maybe we should have bought a stand! But who cares if it doesn't have the most aesthetically pleasing setting - it's great to have something to play on again. My most loving and wonderful husband had obviously picked up a few signs that I was missing my piano (no, I wasn't hinting that badly!) and a few days ago said, "I was just in the guitar shop and they had a big sale on keyboards - do you want to take a look?" So we went and browsed around a bit, and he firmly dragged me away from the $1000+ models and made me look at some more reasonable ones, and after some discussion we went for this little Casio. It's more portable than the type with a built-in stand, which was a big consideration when we know we're moving in less than 2 years and I had to leave my old one behind for precisely that reason. It's got weighted keys so the touch is good; the sound could be better but it renders Bach quite prettily even if not really coping with Rachm...

Working on sunshine

Freeeee electricity!  No, seriously.  This guy came and knocked on the door one day, and I don't usually pay any more attention to random strangers trying to sell me something at the door than you probably do, but I guess he must have said "free" enough times to penetrate my consciousness, so I found myself agreeing to have someone check our house's suitability for solar panels.  And another guy turned up, and measured; and another one, and we signed; and a few more, and put up scaffolding and panels and meter boxes and cable; and suddenly, if we're careful, we can avoid paying for any electricity during daylight hours, because it's all generated right up there above our heads. Of course, we have the British government to thank for this, which probably means we're paying for it somewhere along the line.  The Department for Energy and Climate Change (presumably it's actually against climate change rather than for it, although you never know) has...

It isn't that important to me...

When we went sailing a few weeks ago, I mentioned to one of the club members that I had tried sailing a topper as a teenager, and really enjoyed it.  He asked: "Why haven't you done any sailing since then?" Well. On the face of it, that's a perfectly reasonable question.  On the other hand, why don't we do all these many things that we would probably enjoy if we did them? Because our weekends are already full.  Because we don't know anyone else who does it.  Because it will cost money.  Because we're afraid it will take up all our time. Because the kids don't want to. Because, quite frankly, it isn't that important to us. Which isn't really something you can say to someone who's been sailing for longer than you've been alive.  But that's pretty much what it comes down to. That brief conversation, and a similar one with a tennis instructor, served to point out the difference between those who are "in" an ...