So I waited for him to book a hotel. And waited. He kept finding reasons for not booking. In the end I booked a bargain break with Secret Escapes myself at Falcondale Hotel, just outside Lampeter.
|The view from our room which is on the top floor on the left as you look at the hotel.|
Wednesday, our 37th anniversary, we spent wandering the cliff paths of Cardigan Bay, dolphin-spotting and - whisper this - skinny dipping.
Our walk took us past this bay.
The water looked so inviting one of us said, 'what a shame we didn't bring our bathers.' To which one of us, possibly me, replied, 'We could go without?'
I then spent the next part of the walk convincing myself of this. By the time we arrived back at the beach (the next one along actually and a tiny bit less open to the coastal path and any walkers thereon) I'd done it. I reckoned that at 62 it was about time to do something foolish and that our anniversary would be memorable and it was very unlikely that anyone would see us. And if they did they wouldn't recognise us later with our clothes on.
It was a battle to get down what passed as a side-of-the-cliff path, overgrown as it was with brambles, nettles and holly, and by the time we got to the bottom my enthusiasm had waned somewhat. But Husband's sensibleness - 'there'll be other opportunities when it's warm and sunny and private' - took me through the sensibleness barrier.
Now when I say skinny dip I really do mean dip. It was in and out, blink and you'd miss it. Hopefully. It was also very stony!
|The site where it happened|
|You can't be on holiday and not eat ice cream. (Unless you're Husband.) Apple and blackberry crumble and custard ice cream with honeycomb and butterscotch in case you're wondering. From Creme Pen Cei in New Quay.|
|And our anniversary selfie.|
To make the house appear symmetrical from outside there is a false window on the left (as you look at it) of the front door. He wanted the music room inside to be symmetrical so there couldn't be a window on one end. He did the same thing with doors. In that music room there are two doors but one is a small cupboard. And the lady's boudoir, when the door is shut, is a perfect oval.
Unlike these little birds, baby house martins in the stable, who hadn't yet learned the meaning of 'be quiet, humans about.'
And when I said, 'Don't let me go near the bookshop,' I didn't really mean it! But Husband used it as evidence when I yelled at him for not reminding me.
Gosh, this must be one of my longest ever posts. So, where was I? Oh, yes, that was nearly the end of our brief holiday but we did make time to call into another NT property on the way home. Dolaucothi gold mine.
It's believed the Romans were the first to mine for gold in these Welsh hills. I mean the Romans definitely mined there but there may have been someone before. The gold that is found in the dirty quartz stone (and I'm not being rude: it's called dirty) doesn't come in nuggets but as dust making mining very labour-intensive.
Behind me you can see drams. To get enough gold for one wedding ring the equivalent of 10 drams of shale had to be removed in order to get one dram of quartz. So it's no wonder the mine has never been very profitable or that Welsh gold is the most expensive in the world.
|We entered via the original Roman entrance to the drift mine.|
We also got to have a go at panning for gold. There is reckoned to be about one and half million pounds worth of gold still in the rocks and it's just possible some might be washed out ...
|All that glistens is not gold, unless you're a fool.|