Ain't no mountain high enough...

I thought you might be interested in the other stuff Mr Bird and I got up to while we were away in the Wobble Box this weekend.  The pinnacle of the weekend was the mountain climb (see what I did there?) but before this, we had anticipated a simple, peaceful and quiet few days together with the dogs.  What we hadn't expected was to be shouted at as we strolled to the pub on the first night, 'What on earth are you two doing here?'

Standing outside a posh (and long) motor home, were two very good friends of ours.  Happily retired, they trolley around the world in their home on wheels, and just happened to land in Pandy a whole thirty minutes before we did on Thursday.  The funny thing is, that every time we see each other, the subject of caravans and motor homes is always raised, with promises on both sides made that we will arrange something together for a weekend.  To date, we've never managed to do this, but it finally happened by accident.  We all decided that this was the best way and spent some lovely time together chewing the fat and drinking whatever we could lay our hands on.

On Sunday, I managed to tick something else off my bucket list.  A visit to Hay-on-Wye.  Have any of you ever read Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine?  If you have, then you'll know why a visit was needed.  Unfortunately, the Norman castle which I was desperate to see had been cling filmed as the castle is being renovated, but you know, it's a good excuse to come back again another time.  I also did what everyone should do when they visit Hay-on-Wye, and that was to buy a book.

Leaving the husband ensconced with a milkshake, a slab of banana bread and the two woofers, I wandered over to what looked like the oldest shop there.  Walking in, you could smell how old the books were, and looking at the proprietor, I decided that he probably had been standing there since William Caxton decided that the British needed a bit of educating.  He was around four feet whichever way you looked at him, and with red, shiny cheeks, looked like Billy Bunter's grandad.

I bought several books, wading through the ten thousand or so in the shop before finding some I wanted.  My favourite purchase was a politically incorrect tome from 1867 involving a golliwog.  This is for Miss R who adores them, and I'm sure she'll find it really funny.

So the weekend was another successful one.  In the last couple of hours yesterday, the husband and I decided that we'd come back to this site again next year.  

'That's great', I said.  'I can give Hay-on-Wye another go - perhaps the work on the castle will have been done by then'.

'I was thinking that we could do The Sugarloaf'. said the husband with a maniacal glint in his eye.

Ah yes, the other mountain, the bigger one.  The one which threw a shadow across The Skirrid.

I shall be doing some exercises on these old knees of mine, just to make sure I'm 'mountain ready' by next May.  

There's a good chance that the husband won't be needing his nutcrackers this Christmas...