Friday, 1 July 2016

The runaway train...

We all woke up to a beautiful morning yesterday, and the general consensus was that a trip to Snowdon was on the cards.  Now I have never been to Snowdon, but the other three have, so you would like to think that when I asked them on several occasions, 'Which peak is Snowdon?', that one of them might have known.  Instead, I got the same answer all day.   'You can't see it because it's too cloudy up there'.  So my lasting impression of Snowdon is a big grey cloud...most impressive.

We had headed up to where the railway started, which takes you to the summit (not that you'd see the mountain peak or any of the surrounding countryside or views through that bloody great cloud) and a caffeine pit stop was arranged while we decided what to do.  Queuing at the hatch for drinks and a Cornish Pasty (when in Rome, eat like a Cornishman), I watched as one by one, they were taken from the hot shelf.  Finally, it was my turn...there was one left.  A pallid looking thing, possibly the minced beef runt of the litter, but I didn't care, I wanted it.

'One Cornish Pasty please and two coffees'.

'Sorry, we've none left'.

A quick look at the heated shelf confirmed my worst fears, and I had to settle for chips.

Sitting back down at the table, Mr G headed our way carrying my Cornish Pasty.  It turned out that he had avoided the queue at the hatch, and had gone into the café, thus depriving me of the last Cornish Pasty.  He didn't even offer me a bit off the end, and apparently, it was lovely (I didn't want to hear that).

It had started to rain again by now, so I decided that a hat was needed if we were going to be trekking outside.  This was only because I had straightened my hair yesterday morning as the weather man had promised a dry day till at least 6.00pm....the lying bast**d.....

Suitably equipped with a perfectly acceptable waterproof hat, I came out of the store.  The husband, ever supportive as you all know, fell about laughing, and told me I bore a striking resemblance to Bear Grylls.  Mrs W and her beau were slightly kinder, and said I looked like a Canadian tour guide, and that all I needed was an umbrella.  That could have been put to very good use if the husband had carried on laughing. He never learns.

And now we come to the big con of the day....£32 for the four of us to go on a train 'around the lake'.  The trip would last an hour, we'd see lots of interesting sites, and it was well worth the money (or so the lady at the ticket counter said).

It turned out to be about fifteen minutes of train journey, two stops amounting to twenty minutes to 'stretch our legs', and ten minutes of moving the engine from the back to the front.  The train did not go 'around' the lake.  It merely limped approximately half a mile, and then came back again on the same stretch of track.  Interesting sites observed included some scrap metal, sleepers, the car park of a copper mine, two ice cream vans, a lot of lake and one mad person swimming.  Add to this the fact that Mr G nearly lost three fingers while trying to open the window, and you have forty five minutes of your life you'll never get back again.

Stopping at the town on the way back home, a trip to the bakers was necessary...

'Fourteen Welsh cakes please......'

I said to Mrs W that I would be taking these home to put in the freezer.  But between you and me, I doubt they'll get that far.

My name's Tracy, and I am addicted to Welsh cakes.

It just might be time to go home...
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