A geological marvel

Christmas is near – and our work lunches and dinners not to mention birthday’s have seen us eating heaps and enjoying people's company during the week. On Monday after work we ventured into Newport to eat Italian with Anne, Elspeth and Keith and to celebrate Anne getting a year older. Once the waitress found out where we were from she asked the standard question ‘Why are you here?’ with that amazement in her voice that we have found so common over here. I think I have said before that we now realise what a priviledged position we are both in – able to work in a different country (even though only for a few years) yet to have the right to return to another one which is so special or of course Australia which is so much warmer. We are all going back to NZ for short trips, Keith and Elspeth leave just a few days before us in February while Anne in January – just can’t keep away!! Tonight Mike has left to come over to see us for Christmas via Munich and a few days skiing. Becks leaves tomorrow via Thailand and with luck with the weather and british transport we will all be together for Christmas day. We also managed to find ourselves some airfares to Brussels to see Mike and Becks in January. It took a while, firstly we found £200 ones from Bristol, then 1 pence ones from Stansted and then £10,000 from Cardiff (with 2 nights accommodation thrown in). The 1 p ones were quite tempting -but a 3 and a half hour car drive to catch a 6.00 in the morning flight and returning at 11 in the evening and then another drive didn't sound that appealing. We thought there must be something better. So we slept on it and the next day found some £47 ones from Heathrow at a reasonable hour so jumped at them. We got carried away then and we found some cheap flights for two of the bank holidays next year - so have heaps to look forward to. I walked to work one day as my work was having their Christmas lunch was and I didn’t fancy riding my bike half way across town. The morning was frosty, car windows had a sheet of thick ice across them, the footpath was all sparkling and the sun was coming up. A group of allotments on the hillside looked in the morning darkness like a minature shanty town. The lunch was in a restaurant in an area that we walked when we first arrived in Bristol. It feels quite bizarre going back to places, that when we first looked at were amazed by the garden or the architecture or the narrow street, but now is just ‘part of our daily existence’. Harry’s Christmas dinner was the next evening in an area we hadn’t been before – needless to say we got lost but not quite as spectacularly as we used too. We danced the night away (one of the last to leave) and requested songs like Grease lightening so we didn’t have to dance to the latest music. The young ones equally seemed to enjoy the ‘older’ songs. Quite unexpectantly we woke up early on Saturday and since it was a cloudy day with no rain we decided to take off to Quantock Head. What a geological marvel. It is a stretch of coastline sitting between Burnham on Sea and Minehead. Both these places have little to offer unless you are into Hi de hi holidays or living in terraced houses that you can find in the cities - but Quantock is quite different.

Quantock Beach is quite a few miles long and around 200 million years old. The beach is rocky but the layers of stone, slate and dirt have come together over time to create a magical wonder. We were lucky enough to arrive at low tide (no planning there) and could walk on some of the smooth stones and look at the more rugged ones. The pictures speak for themselves really. We sat sharing a cup of tea (we forgot the other cup!!) just enjoying the scenery and the colours. I've decided I really must get another hat!!


The walk took us along the cliffs and then though farmland and down muddy lanes. The farmer had left a notice on the gate to say someone had reported him for including ragwort in his hay - he mentioned that he had explained to 'the authorities' all that he had done to try and eradicate it. Probably felt a bit pipped that he had opened up his property to walkers and then someone had complained. We didn't really know what ragwort was but looking it up on the net tonight, it is a noxious plant and 1kg can kill a horse. It grows biannually and can only grow in unharvested fields - looking at the pictures there was quite alot down the muddy tractor paths where many a horse had trod (Sherlock could tell by hoof prints and other evidence). We also passed other crops (I think probably turnip) and a grass that had a bamboo stalk but a top like a toi toi. We walked into Quantock East a cute little village with thatched cottages, little lake, ducks and a few christmas decorations.

It was getting close to dusk and so we decided to take a quick trip to Minehead before heading home - and we found - Dunster castle. One of those places we must go to once the National Heritage has finished doing their renovating. Wonderful wooden staircase (which showed an intricate hunt scene) and the ceilings (the detail which we have never seen before). While others lined up to see that little fat man in red, or to buy Christmas decorations, we wandered around with our eyes peeled to the ceilings - lucky we didn't trip over any little ones. The elderly gentleman who spoke to us, because we were obviously interested in the building, said that it had been built in the 1600's and that the ceilings and staircase were originals. At one stage someone had painted the staircase but this had been stripped back to the elm and oak. The bannister was so smooth and shaped like a water slide and I was tempted to let Caramello have a slide down but somehow didn't think the little man showing us around would approve.

On the way home, we missed the turning for our place - was it Junction 18 or 19 we discussed as we flew past 20 and 21 which would have been far more direct.

Sunday morning - a truck got stuck in our street - just when I had decided a lie in was in order. I am not sure what the driver was trying to do - but after edging their way between cars (not scratching one I might add) I think the driver wanted to turn left. There was heaps of reverse beeping going on before he decided to give it a miss and slowly continue through the narrow street to the end. About an hour later he came back along our street - maybe he wanted another challenge - or perhaps just wanted to wake up those that hadn't been woken the first time!! This afternoon was cold so all wrapped up (Harry in his woollen jersey from NZ, Tui scarf and balaclava and both of us in polyprops from Kathmandu) we went to Bristol Zoo. It is quite a smallish zoo on the flat and they have done a reasonable job of giving the animals as much space as they need. After we saw the flamingos we came across two keas and all I could think was 'you are a long way from home'. Funny, it just didn't feel right that they were there. It has never occurred to me before when I look at lions, tigers, zebras, bears etc that they are also perhaps shouldn't be there. Anyway the notice said that 'Bristol Zoo owns the european studbook for Keas' and told the story of an innocent tourist leaving his car in the park near a national park down south and coming back to it with the wipers, chrome strips ripped off. The zoo had heaps of reptiles and spiders but most of the animals we had seen before except two Opaki which belong to the giraffe family - their rear end is like a zebra and their children follow their parents by recognising the stripes. (Can you believe we forgot to take a photo of them - so courtesy of the web - which also told us there was an Opaki school in the Wairarapa which I think we have passed).

The Forest of Dean

Winter is now here - gone are the warmish days and here comes the rain and wind!! We took the car to work one day (the excuse was we needed to fix the window and install the new radio and so we decided to wait for a day where the weather wasn't brilliant for biking). We managed to bike every other day and didn't get too wet or cold. It seems to rain around midday alot and then the mornings and late afternoons are just a bit drizzly. Anyway, we were having some friends around for dinner on Tuesday night and so we decided (or should I say 'I') decided to decorate the fireplace while Harry watched 'Top Gear'. I was quite pleased with our little fireplace and even though we can't use the fireplace the decorations have given the dining room a Christmassy feeling. We had a bit of a confusion over Tuesday dinner. I emailed these friends (I worked with them at the hospital) our address and phone details etc but my computer crashed just after I did that and they never got the email. So, they didn't know where we lived, our phone number and what was worse I didn't have their details. Harry and I enjoyed lasagne for the next two lunches and two nights (for those of you who came on a holiday with me to the West Coast of the South Island - endless lasagne will conjure up memories you probably would prefer to forget). Anyway, we met in the pub on Friday evening instead and had a lovely time - they have just bought their first house (yes they are heaps younger than us) and it is down the road from the bed and breakfast that we stayed in when first arriving in Bristol. We knew the building as the terraced houses are all different colours and I can remember taking a photo. Thursday was Harry's birthday and he was really spoilt with presents, cards and phone calls from the Southern Hemisphere. He is wearing his Tui scarf this week and we are waiting for the first kiwi to say 'Are you from New Zealand?'. We went to our NZ friends for tea to celebrate in style - home cooked Indian and apple crumble, chocolate cake and icecream.

Saturday Anne came over from Newport. We had planned a trip down south to walk the cliffs along the coast but the weather wasn't really suitable - even I gave in to the pressure! We went instead to the Bristol Museum. Had a range of things on show including an Egyptian display with mummies, the box kite which was a replica built for 'Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines', Moa bones, kakapo and kea (stuffed - hopefully they died naturally) and an amazing photographic display of pictures taken to show the greenhouse effect. We spent some money at Kathmandu (went to buy polyprops but came out with something else that was on sale but keeps us just as warm - apparently polyprops weren't big sellers over here and they were all sent back to NZ), bought some papers and came home to the warmth to read all about the canoeist coming out of hiding after 5 years, the political scene etc.

Sunday dawned - wet, windy and cold. But I woke up and said 'what can I write in the blog if we don't do something' so we decided to drive off to the Forest of Dean which we assumed would be a bit more sheltered - it hardly rained at all while we were there. It isn't far, but a bit further if you take a road that you think will cross the Severn but doesn't. With the distinct seasons here it seems the colours are so much more definite for each season - autumn and the forest was characterised by reds and browns, not only were most of the trees without their leaves, the undergrowth (dead leaves and bracken) made everything look reddish brown. Quite lovely. We came across a sheep in the middle of the road and when she saw us she ambled across in front of us to make us slow down (worked better than a speed camera). It happened again but the second sheep went back into the middle of the road once we passed. We stopped the car to take a look at the Severn River meandering through the countryside.

We made our way through lines of trees (at one point in the day the trees formed a low lying canopy over the road - the trees weren't cut but a road sign warned travellers in trucks and campervans). Had morning tea outside the Heritage centre which attracted little robins and we were pleased to find that it was open and had made an effort for Christmas (we can't decide why we expected the decorations to be so much better over here but we did). Father Christmas told me that if Becks and Mike have any trouble getting from Heathrow just to let him know and he will take his sleigh over to pick them up. The Forest of Dean is the 1st National Park in England created in 1938 to try and stop the devastation from logging and mining. We learnt all about how you make charcoal from wood - it really is fascinating the things we are learning. There is a charcoal making season - the makers came and lived in little huts by a some cut woodland. They would pile on top of the wood (up to a ton at a time) dirt and basically smoke it (I thought a bit like a hangi but on top of the ground). There were holes at the top and when the smoke turned black they knew the wood at the top had turned to charcoal filled in those holes and made some in the middle etc until the holes were at the and the smoke was black. It takes a few days and needs to be tended constantly over that time to fill up any cracks in the mound. And we learnt about free mining. Apparently in the 13th century King Edward 1st granted those born in an area the right to mine coal with no charge - they did have to pay a commission on what they mined though. It still stands today that if you are born in the area you can be a 'free miner' but you have to have a home birth not born at the local hospital - you'd think they would have placed the hospital right by the mine entrance wouldn't you? Anyway, a little poem from a 'free miner':

Gold for my lady, silver for the maid

Copper for the copper smith, who's cunning at his trade.

But said the miner picking up his fall

'a big churn of brush ore is better than them all'.

We looked in an old mine where the adit (door) was propped up by some branches - it really didn't look very secure or inviting. Cider was also made here, apples crushed by a big wheel turned by a horse (not something I think we would allow today) and then dejuiced (didn't quite get the full picture of how it is made but we've decided we have to try some as it is so popular and being made from fruit must be good for you).

It was getting late and so we decided to finish the day by visiting an iron quarry. It had a Christmas story theme throughout it and was inundated by families (you had to wait at least an hour to sit on Father Christmas's knee - we decided not to wait and so also had to forgo the present we could have had!!). The mine was man made and there wasn't a lot to see -except if you followed the story of Cora, who swam around trying to find a big blue monster with a loud voice who scared everyone but really was very lonely and once he stopped yelling he made lots of undersea friends and they all went home happily to Cora's place for Christmas dinner once she had been rescued from the sharks!). Anyway, these children enjoying the lights, stories and presents probably didn't realise how fortunate they are to be born today rather than the 1800's where children as young as 6 were required to carry up to 8 tonnes of rock from the quarry each day. The iron was mined by candle light - the miners worked by candle time since they didn't have watches and couldn't see the daylight. When they were half way through their daily allocation they knew it was lunch time and going home time was I guess just before the last candle burnt out.

Our last drive for the day took us to Monmouth as the sun was setting. The bridge is 1 of 2 in England - as the gate sits in the middle of the bridge rather than land. We drove beside the River Wye - which looked swift and close to overflowing its banks and seemed to go across the English/Welsh border a number of times. It was easy to know when (no not because of all the Welcome to Wales or Welcome to England signs). All welsh road signs are bilingual and so when we saw SLOW and beneath if ARAF we knew we were in Wales, and when we saw just SLOW we were in England. We are learning quite a few Welsh words but the pronunciation is quite hard - last weekend we were saying Laugharne as Larfarne but it is pronounced Larne according to the Welsh man I work with. Speaking of work, one person spent a lovely weekend in Paraparaumu last November - he said that the train journey into town was as picturesque as anything he had seen - when you think about the rocks and hills by Paekakariki and Pukerua Bay, the countryside, Plimmerton and Porirua Harbours, and through the tunnels into Wellington is very special. His friends who live there though, had told him the trip takes 35 minutes and seemed to give the impression they were always on time....

Weathering the Weather in Wales

Wales beckoned this weekend - not entirely sure why as with autumn nearing its end and winter fast approaching we managed to get all seasons in one weekend - sunshine, rain, wind and hail - where was the snow? Laugharne was a cute little town on the East Coast, home to Caitlin and Dylan Thomas and their three children in the 1930's and 40's and the town which inspired such stories as 'Under Milkwood' and many of his poems (such as the one below from 'Quite early one morning').

'Off and on, up and down, high and dry, man and boy, I've been living now for fifteen years, or centuries, in this timeless, beautiful, barmy town, in this far, forgetful, important place of herons, cormorants (known here as billy duckers), castle, churchyard, gulls, ghosts, geese, feuds, scares, scandals, cherry trees, mysteries, jackdaws in the chimneys, bats in the bellfry, skeletons in the cupboards, pubs, mud, cockles, flatfish, curlews, rain, and human, often all too human, beings; and, though, still very much a foreigner, I am hardly ever stoned in the streets any more, and can claim to be able to call several of the inhabitants, and a few of the herons, by their Christian names. Now, some people live in Laugharne because they were born in Laugharne and saw no good reason to move; others migrated here, for a number of curious reasons, from places as distant and improbable as Tonypandy or even England, and have now been absorbed by the natives; some entered the town in the dark and immediately disappeared, and can sometimes be heard, on hushed black nights, making noises in ruined houses, or perhaps it is the white owls breathing close together, like ghosts in bed; others have almost certainly come here to escape the international police, or their wives; and there are those, too, who still do not know, and will never know, why they are here at all: you can see them, any day of the week, slowly, dopily, wandering up and down the streets like Welsh opium-eaters, half-asleep in a heavy bewildered daze. And some, like myself, just came, one day, for the day, and never left; got off the bus, and forgot to get on again. Whatever the reason, if any, for our being here, in this timeless, mild, beguiling island of a town with its seven public houses, one chapel in action, one church, one factory, two billiard tables, one St. Bernard (without brandy), one policeman, three rivers, a visiting sea, one Rolls-Royce selling fish and chips, one cannon (cast-iron), one chancellor (flesh and blood), one portreeve, one Danny Raye, and a multitude of mixed birds, here we just are, and there is nowhere like it anywhere at all. But when you say, in a nearby village or town, that you come from this unique, this waylaying, old, lost Laugharne where some people start to retire before they start to work and where longish journeys, of a few hundred yards, are often undertaken only on bicycles ...'
It's a pity that fame got to Dylan like so many others - he died from alcohol poisoning and morphine overdose in New York but was buried in Laugharne (we didn't see the little white cross that apparently shows his last resting place). Anyway, he has made his little town famous.
We wandered the paths around the sea and under the castle, said hello to the fisherman who replied in very strong Welsh accents, got sprayed by the sea and then wet by the rain before visiting Dylan's house at the top of the hill and the boat house where he apparently wrote (probably a bit away from family life). It was a bit cold (a visit to the only Kathmandu in Bristol is going to happen very soon - polyprops will be the order of the day), so we bought ourselves some fish and chips and ventured into the park beside the sea (a sign says the car park gets regularly flooded). The castle was closed for winter, but looked as though it might be interesting to venture inside (though we must say we spotted a number of little derelict castles on the Welsh hillsides and they are probably pretty much the same).

Since it is Harry's birthday this week he chose what to do this weekend. And our next stop was the highlight for him. Pendine Sands - a 7 mile stretch of beach where the world speed records were set in the 1920's by guys called Campbell and Thomas - about 170 miles per hour. Thomas (also known as Babs) was killed in one of his attempts and his car was buried in the sand on the beach. The Museum of Speed just up the road found it, restored it and have it now displayed in the museum. One of the downsides of doing touristy things in winter is that a lot of the things we want to see are closed (like the museum so we didn't get to see the car; or the boat trip - next trip April 2008 the sign said). The upside of it is there are far fewer people around and all the Pay and Display car parks are free and it is easier to find a bed and breakfast when you aren't sure where you will want to stop for the night. Anyway we wandered along the beach for a bit and although it was very windy, the wind did not whip up the sand like at home. Shows how compact it is and how wet it remains even at low tide. Wonder what it would be like in summer. The beach is owned by the Ministry of Defence and the yellow sign in the photo says if you find a bomb or mine just call a number .... We did revisit the beach on the way home, hoping for a nicer walk (maybe not the full 7 miles though) but although warmer it was still quite windy and we decided against it.

We found a sign to a chocolate factory - I suggested going straight to Tenby but you can guess who was driving. We went 8 miles inland through the Welsh countryside to a converted barn - the factory was closed (winter again!!), but the shop was open. We haven't tasted the chocolate yet, but the displays were magnificent and choices quite amazing. I bought 7 truffles and I think we will be cutting each one in half so we can both taste them - it will be quite a ceremony with a cappuchino in hand. Harry bought long cigar shaped ones with fudges inside - there were little christmas puddings with holly on top, cakes with sheep and rabbits etc, father christmas's - I could go on and I'm not even a chocoholic!! When we got home Harry laid our purchases out on the table just to admire them and he is already drooling!!! On the return trip we got caught up in a typical NZ scene and spent a long time (about 3 miles) going at cow pace as a herd wandered through the countryside, trying to nibble on bracken while the farmer drove behind them tooting his horn. Dogs are not really used here as workers (probably cos the english love to put bows in their hair and take them for car rides and holidays) so to herd this small group of cows actually took 6 people. By the time we had left the cows we had quite a number of cars behind us and we in our little yellow car led the convoy onto Tenby.

Tenby is a quaint little walled village (not like Chester where you can walk around it). The wall is narrow and the archers and those defending the city must have stood on some sort of gantry to reach the archery holes. Apparently in the mid 1900's the council wanted to pull the five arches into the town down but there was such an outcry they decided not to. What a devastation that would have been. The town is overlooked by a little 12th century castle, St Catherine's island (which has a 19th century fort on it and was closed cos it was winter and inaccessible cos it was high tide) and the statue of Prince Albert (husband of Victoria) plonked beside them. We wandered the town in the dim Saturday afternoon light and found a pub with an open fire. Planted ourselves on the only comfy chairs, ordered hot chocolates and read the newspaper for a couple of hours. By then the kitchen was open and we had two of the best roast dinners we have had in a long time before returning through the narrow winding streets to our hotel. It was a very stormy night, but the kiwis didn't notice after such an adventurous Saturday and we woke refreshed to a good breakfast before finding that the fire engines up the road were rescuing a chimney that had fallen down on the house next door to the one that Lord Nelson stayed at in 1820. We wandered the beaches (our umbrellas got turned inside out in a very wet gust) before driving back home through the countryside. It was the final stage of the World Car rally this weekend - in Wales - and we came across a 'touring' stage where the cars had to cross an intersection. We wandered up the road, turkey sandwiches in hand, thinking the first car was near as the crowd thickened - when Harry threw his sandwich at me and said 'hold this quick here is Sebastian Loeb (from France driving a Citreon) must get a photo' - alas not quite quick enough to take the lens cap off but got number two Marcus Gronholm and number 3 and number 4 and number 5.... - how amazing is that he knows the name of the driver by the car (colour?) they drive. The intersection was being controlled by two policeman in their bright yellow jackets and trousers (just like mine!!) when a car decided not to stop until in the middle of the road. The policeman walked to the drivers door and said 'what do you think I am doing standing in the middle of the road with my hand out' the elderly gentleman said 'can't hear what you are saying' after which the policeman gave up, closed the door and waved him on.