April at Pat & Brian's

My story, all true, won this time. Four votes.

In this country

In this country? Which one though?  England perhaps as in my case it's the only one I know apart from my sally into Wales many years ago when I was about twelve. If it is Wales then in this country my first and second impression was not very good. The first visit in 1946 came about when a friend of our family lets call him Tom, took his family there by train to visit his wife’s relatives in Cardiff Don't know why but my parents agreed I could go with them although I don't remember wanting to go. Perhaps they wanted me to go and with luck not come back, who knows.

Again I can't understand why no one knew what the sleeping arrangements would be. As there was no room in the proverbial Inn. I had to go into a neighbouring house and share a bed with a man I had never met. Could that happen 2016 without an uproar but the night passed without me being molested as far as I remember. On the second day I didn't feel that wonderful and when we went out together that is Tom, his wife and their two girls by bus, the conductor, they had them in those days, peered at me I think he said, You're covered in spots, as his accent was as clear as BT Indian help line. Indeed I was covered in spots, subsequently I was told it was the water. Not sure I believe it.

All in all it wasn't a very good holiday. It didn't end that well either A train journey back nobody had cars then and a walk home I found the house locked up. My brother was outside and seeing me he said Mum is next door with Mrs Turner I'll tell her. He left me standing outside with the suitcase while he climbed over the wall separating the two gardens and disappeared inside.

I waited and waited and waited thinking they don't care if I'm back or not and it seemed a very long time when from around the front of the house mum appeared having only just been told that I was home. My dear brother forgot to tell her.

The second bad time was when we took a short break to that bleak cottage with the axe in the outhouse that had rusty stains on the blade that and the constant rain we made the short break even shorter. I've just remembered it was three times not twice when I ventured into this rain swept country

The third time was much better it was when we took our son to St Donat's a medieval castle in the Vale of Glamorgan, overlooking the Bristol Channel. Now an international secondary school called Atlantic College. He wasn't going there to take a baccalaureate but to enjoy the experience for two weeks. The facilities available for those privileged to go there for their education in those glorious settings gave me an impression of something out of this world. It was actually bathed in sunshine too. Maybe Wales isn't so bad after all.

Next month "up to much"