Caer Abiri ac Powys

This time round my time off has had a slightly different shape than it has off late because Kes has been having a birthday – don’t ask, I’m not telling – so it was down to Wiltshire from the boat with minimal stopover in Kirkcudbright and no London wanderings (that of course is not to say I won’t squash a pint in on the way back).

There has been much blogworthy stuff going on outside the capital to make up for it though. On Saturday was the Equinox at Avebury (Caer Abiri) and a busy Equinox it was too. Kes and Kim were conducting a handfasting ceremony for Sarah and Martin in the morning in rather disagreeable weather conditions– it went very well (as you would expect) dispite the elements being in something of a playful mood. Almost at the same time Em Churchill and Gary Franklin were being handfasted in the moon circle (I think) by King Arthur, no doubt also in the rain – some people managed to appear at both which no doubt involved a little running about. In the afternoon there was the open gorsedd then back to a cosy and unrainy cottage for cups of tea. I can’t complain about rain here for Terry the Druid spent the entire daylight hours of the equinox standing out in the circle – I wonder if he’s dried out yet.

It’s been far too long since I last saw my old mate Bev, so it was good to go up and visit at her and Craig’s pub the Flying Shuttle in Newtown in Powys (neglectfully unphotographed here – sorry). This coupled with the fact that Wales on the whole is very lovely made for a most enjoyable couple of days – despite attempts by the weather to put a damper (literally) on the occasion. Actually we got a quite dry afternoon with even the occasional bit of sunshine for a wander up the Afon Hafren where it was only just a good going mountain stream and certainly long before it becomes the River Severn. The Hafren is named after the Princess Hafren who long ago in uncharted history drowned in the river and it is said that if you listen hard enough you can still hear her.

If it’s Tuesday it must be the Bryntail lead mines and also very wet, but a dog doesn’t seem to mind and neither does the determined gadabout if truth be told. There’s not much left of the mines considering they were in use in the later part of the 19^th century long after battering ram and cannon passed out of common use in this country and anyway mines were not the usual target for these things. – perhaps most of it has been turned into somebody’s holiday cottage elsewhere. The mines nestle under the Clywedog Dam – Perhaps nestle is not the right word when you live under something that looms and certainly not if you know about Barnes Wallace. The Clywedog Dam is the tallest mass concrete dam in the country and is made out of enough concrete to makes 28 miles of 6 lane motorway. Behind it, the Clywedog reservoir holds 50000 megalitres of water, which, I am assured, is enough for 55 million baths so there is no excuse for meeting an unwashed Welshman.

On the way back to Newtown we passed through Llanidloes which has a highly picturesque Nat West bank and a strong contender in my worst lion statue of all time award – I think the one in Swindon high street still holds the number one slot as the Llanidoes one has a fair bit of entertainment value.

Many thanks to Bev and Craig and Gizmo for putting up with me for a couple of days but they don’t quite get the last mention here for after Craig dropped me off at the station I popped into Fiore’s Café on the platform for a cup of tea and also bought a most delicious slice of Welsh cake called Bara Brithe –it’s a fruit cake with the fruit soaked in tea over night – there’s lovely.