Will the flying fishes ever play again? Where the dawn rode up like thunder outer China ‘crost the bay. The news, which I don’t like listening to at the best of times, is not good from Mandalay. The romantic image of the place has been shattered by an earthquake. Shaken out of a dream. A dream that almost certainly never matched reality anyway.
This morning I had gran o’la and berries with yo and a whole grapefruit which needed eating as Joe and I bought it last weekend on our walk to Tesco. Well Joe did the actual shopping while I finished a pot of tea in the caff.
This weekend I have determined that the walk should take me to Lincoln’s Historic Bailgate area where there are other cafes frequented by locals and tourists alike. THG has said she will meet me there after church tomorrow. I don’t have a favourite cafe so not sure where we will end up. Perhaps the one in the cathedral.
The Cathedral Visitor Centre is a click from our place so two km there and back, the return leg being very gradually downhill. Doable especially with a break for a cuppa at the halfway stage. Will find out soon enough. Tomorrow.
Some of you will have noticed that I’ve just joined a Facebook group for brick lovers. Fans of the baked clay. This feels very complementary to my growing collection of books that include Wood Recognition (or something like that), the History of Railway Signalling and The Adjustable Spanner. I must have a clear out of the bookcase in the shed so that I can keep all these worthy tomes in one place. “The Religious Census of 1851” will sit well in the collection as will “The Methodist Church in West Wales between 1737 and 1754” or similar.
It is quite exciting to see that the AGM of The Carmarthenshire Antiquarian Society happens to be on the weekend that I am in Llanllwni in April. How cool is that? Perfect timing. I just joined the society this month. They are also putting on a lecture “The Rise and Fall of A Gentry Family: The Lewis Family of Pantyrhaidd, Conwil”. Conwil Elfed is on my list of places to visit, or more precisely Cwm Duad, which is just up the road. We lived in a farmhouse called Tir Shimau before Benjamin Davies moved on to own a woollen mill. Another objective in that part of the shire is to find out in which church our Ben was a preacher. Plenty to be getting on with.