Aberystwyth, mon amour ... and Aberaeron

And so to Aberystwyth, one of those places that's a bit like the Forest of Dean, by which I mean, unless you live locally, you have to make an effort to get there. I'd allowed half a day for a flying visit, with the rest taken up with a trip to Bwlch Nant Yr Arian for my must-see of the holiday, the feeding of the red kites. The Northerner, with his sights set on the funicular railway, felt we might need longer.

Looking towards Blaenplwyf

washed-up jellyfish

War  memorials are usually sober, occasionally grandiose, but this one, by Italian sculptor, Mario Rutelli, is actually rather gorgeous. 

First stop, the castle, built by King Edward I in 1277. It was held by Owain Glyndŵr between 1404 and 1408, and since our knowledge of history is so heavily coloured by Shakespeare, we looked out over the Irish sea, remembered the fictionalised version's boast of being able to 'call the spirits from the vasty deep' and wondered if he'd tried that here.  

restharrow and a bumble bee

thyme and restharrow

sea holly and cat's ear

This is the wonderful Gothic edifice that is the Old College, sadly disused although apparently being renovated. Until recently it housed the University's administrative function, but what a fabulous community hub/arts centre for the town it could make.  

We'd hoped to go out to the end of the famous, though somewhat truncated pier but it didn't open till midday and anyway, rain was moving up from the south ...

... so we went and sat it out in a pub, before walking up the promenade to the cliff railway, which takes unfit, lazy people like us to the top of the (famously steep) Constitution Hill ... 

... from where there was a grand view of the town, made all the more impressive by the drama of the weather. 

Although it was a bit hazy, looking north we could see the southern mountains of Eryri National Park and the Lleyn peninsula. 

The Millennium beacon

Renewed rain drove us from our table on the terrace, where we were having lunch, to the inside of the cafe, and continued long enough for us to rule out the Camera Obscura as a viable option ...

... so we went back down the funicular railway, which Cwtch really seemed to enjoy, despite some alarming judders and clunks. 

Despite not going on the pier after all, as Dogs Are Forbidden, by the time we'd wandered back to the car there wasn't enough time to drive to Bwlch Nant Yr Arian for 3pm kite feeding, so we decided to pop into Aberaeron on our way back to New Quay instead. By now the scorchiness of mid-afternoon had set in, so we had ice cream on the quay - in my case, the famous honey ice cream with pistachio, though the Northerner stuck with raspberry ripple - and walked down to the beach, before repairing to a bar with a shady area, which was deemed preferable by us all. 

A good day out ... but alas, only the occasional red kite soaring overhead. 

A New Year Jaunt Part III: Abergavenny

And so on to Abergavenny, a place I'd been to once before, briefly, aged about seven, my parents having decided to visit my sister's former teacher who had retired there.  I remember being amazed at the closeness of the mountains to the town; also, that the teacher was not at home.  No point looking for her now - she'll be long dead, and besides her name was Mrs Davies.

I liked Abergavenny, although the livestock market was on, which I had mixed feelings about, finding poor confused creatures distressing.   Apparently it will be moving before long to Raglan, and a Sainsburys will take its place which will make the town like everywhere else.

As luck would have it, the flea market was on so we had a good rummage about, Dru finding some lino cutting tools and John a rebate plane with lots of different blades in a wooden holder. I discovered a bargain Ola Gorie brooch to sell on eBay. (Or keep!) 

After lunch in the cafe, we had a wander around the castle, scene of the bloody Abergavenny Massacre in 1175 when William de Braose lured three Welsh princes and other Welsh leaders to their deaths.  According to the 16th century antiquary, William Camden, Abergavenny Castle  has been oftner stain'd with the infamy of treachery, than any other castle in Wales.  The 16th century historian, John Leland, declared that its very high walls were likely not to fall.  This was before the Civil Wars, of course.  

 From the castle we headed for the large and rather impressive Church of St Mary, which used to be a priory.

What it lacks in the way of charm it made up for with a huge number of mediaeval tombs of knights and their women.  Also, a massive wooden carving of Jesse, which once had a tree sprouting out of its middle.  

All this repose reminded me of the legend that Arthur and his men are not dead, just sleeping beneath the hill until Breteyne has need of them again.   South Cadbury Hill in Somerset is one of the purported sites, as is Alderley Edge in Cheshire. (Alan Garner relates this tale in his story 'The Weirdstone of Brisingamen'.)  Another possible location is Craig-y-Dinas in the Brecon Beacons, not that far from this somnolent bunch, and I could well believe it.

 

God keeping a close eye on what Gabriel is about to do with that lily while he makes his Annunciation.   

Then our final stop, the 12th century Tithe Barn belonging to the priory -a discotheque in the 70s, it has now been turned into a Visitors Centre for the Church and houses the magnificent 24 feet wide Abergavenny Tapestry, which was stitched to mark the Millennium.

The first photo shows Jesse from the Church and Sugar Loaf Mountain.

A panorama of the town, and the inscription (can you inscribe in stitchery?) Once Enemies Now Friends.

A brooding Owain Glyndŵr surveys the valley.  

And look, here's my Ted presiding over the Abergavenny Massacre. Yep, seems about right.