skip to main |
skip to sidebar
This evening, to mark our first fantastic week on the road in the UK, we decided to celebrate and have dinner in a nice restaurant situated on a tree-covered hillside overlooking the village of LLanberis (prounced Clan-bear-is) where we're staying for a few days. We dressed up in our nice clothes, made a reservation, and were cheerfully afforded the white table cloth and twelve-pieces-of-silverware treatment. Concetta had the fish, I had the chicken, and we shared an apple crisp with our espresso. It was undoubtedly the best food we've had since we arrived in the UK. Last night, at a small cafe down the road, I ended up with some sort of spinach and cheese concoction that didn't taste like either one. When I ordered they asked what I'd like with the Spinach-Cheese surprise and I said salad. Not wanting to disappoint me, they threw on a portion of every salad they could lay their hands on in the kitchen, which sort of made the plate look like several plates full of table leftovers swept onto one dish. Tonight, however, I think we finally found out where the real chefs in Wales are working.
Today we rode the cog railway to the top of Mt. Snowden, the highest peak in the British Isles. Fortunately, though the sun didn't show up for much of the day, we didn't have any rain either. The ride, should you ever make it over here to northern Wales, is absolutely thrilling and breathtaking. In service since 1896, the little narrow gauge trains relentlessly huff and puff their way to the top while affording riders the most magnificent scenery you're likely to see anywhere.
Unfortunately, due to work being performed on the upper terminus of the line, they didn't quite haul us to the summit of Mt. Snowden. However, in the end I was rather happy they didn't. The wind was blowing so hard just down from the summit where they halted that it was difficult to remain on your feet without holding onto something stationary. I definitely kept well clear of the edge of the cliff for fear that I'd be swept over.
Later, back on the valley floor and after our usual tea break, we headed off to ride yet another train which ran from approximately the same part of town but this time out around the lake instead of up the mountain. The ride behind the little steam locomotive was neat but rather tame in comparison to our morning adventure.
The most interesting part of our afternoon involved a visit to a wonderful museum dedicated to those Welshmen who made their living in the Slate industry. They have a complete facility here, much like we Nevadans have with Ely's Nevada Northern Railway, that looks as if the workers just clocked out for the day and left their tools on the workbenches. All the machinery still functions, some was even in operation as we passed through. For those of you who don't know anything about slate, at one time it was a highly sought-after building material for roofing before the days of asphalt shingles.
The slate operations in Clanberis, Wales, were known world-wide for their superior quality. Beyond that, the artistry that it took to hand split single roofing shingles out of large blocks of slate boggles my mind. Our ancestors were truly talented folks, one and all. In the bottom photo, look above the crane to see the big "V" in the hillside where they quarried the slate from the mid 1800s.
Today was our transit day from the Hadrian's Wall area in Northumberland to the Mt. Snowden area of Northern Wales. I knew there would not much time for wandering down back roads or stopping to see the sights. We just had to put the pedal down and put some miles on the Mini. As you may remember if you've been perusing this blog for any length of time, most of my ancestors from my Dad's side came (as far as I can tell from the census data) from southeastern Wales and southwestern England. The sole exception was Paul Brown who was born in Scotland and lived in the 1820s in Northumberland. Thus, our motivation for flying to Edinburgh and staying for a number of days near Hexham and Corbridge, the latter being the village where Paul lived for a time. Our explorations in the Corbridge area finished, we now have to head for southern Wales. But I didn't want to marathon drive directly there so, instead, we headed a couple of hundred miles west to northern Wales just to see the sights. In a few days we'll drift southward and stay a few more days in the area where the Davis family lived before they emigrated in 1873. So, save a lunchtime stop at a wonderful transportation museum in village of Leyland in Lancashire (see top photo), we headed straight here. I have to report that in Leyland we finally managed to find someone who could make a decent potato-leek soup this noon. After the first two attempts, I thought we'd have to give soup up for good. An unfortunate decision in this rainy climate. Naturally, I felt compelled to ask our waitress if she had tasted the soup and what she thought of it before I ordered any.
She replied with rather firm conviction, "Oh, I never eat vegetables."
"Never?" I asked, I'm sure sounding somewhat incredulous.
"No, never," she said. "Not in all my life."
I wondered how she could possibly know if the soup she intended to serve was any good if she wouldn't dream of tasting any, but I decided against asking that. Throwing caution to the wind, I went ahead and ordered the potato-leek anyway. It turned out to be great, as did the somewhat unusual sandwich that came with it, a concoction of brie cheese, bacon, and cranberry sauce on a baguette, and our usual beverage, a steaming mug of tea. Not counting the prizewinning order of fish and chips that Concetta ordered in the tiny burg of Earlston in Northumberland, our lunch in Leyland is perhaps the best we've had yet.
At this point you're probably wondering just how we like the Mini Cooper (see picture of same with Concetta) now that we've driven it for a week. My overall opinion of the tiny vehicle is positive. I like the way it hugs the road. If you so much as nudge the steering wheel left or right the car turns immediately. I like the way it accelerates. Of course up to now I haven't had the courage to do much accelerating, especially since most of the roads we've been traveling have been about 1.5 car widths wide. On some of those rural Northumberland roads you'd have trouble getting the car and a bicycle side by side. But today, on the expressway, I did a lot of accelerating. I Got it up to 80mph at one point and it wasn't even straining. If you press down on the accelerator, no matter how fast you're going, the car leaps forward. The visibility is good in the car and I haven't encountered any blind spots. Of course, I have to warn you that half the time I don't know what direction to look in. It's nothing but strange sitting on the right side of the car and even looking in the side mirrors at the proper time takes a lot of thought for me. This causes me to cut some folks off in the roundabouts every once in a while, especially the ones where two lanes of traffic enter the roundabout simultaneously. The car is darn easy to park. You can put it just about anywhere. I love the heater/defroster. It works better than any car I've ever owned. You turn it on and the windshield is clear seconds later.
Now for the negative things. I don't like the seats. In my opinion they're as uncomfortable as the yucky seats in our Fiat van two summers ago in Italy, and those were pretty bad. There's not enough padding and the seat itself is too short. The various release mechanisms and handles are cheap-feeling and sort of "floppy." I should note at this point that Concetta thinks her seat is just fine, but I suspect the shortness of the seat wouldn't trouble her as much. I should also add that the short seats make for tons of leg room which is nice
My other complaint, which in fairness might be related to the fact that I'm learning to shift this 6-speed car with my left hand, is that there isn't enough room between reverse-first-third gears. I'm getting better now, but for most of this week I've been throwing it into reverse when I want 1st gear. Not at all a calming thing when you're trying not to look like a dumb tourist in the first place. Some day I'd like to drive a left-hand version of the Mini to see if my right hand is smarter than my left hand after owning manual shift cars since 1967. It's possible.
The last thing is pretty inherent in tiny cars. The suspension is pretty stiff and you feel just about every object bigger than a jelly bean in the road. But if you're a fan of sports car-like driving, you most likely expect some of that.
So, if you're thinking about buying one, I'd say go ahead and test drive one. At our last B&B they had a group of 20-something boys staying for several nights. When they arrived they, of course, wanted to know who belonged to the Mini Cooper in the parking area, expecting, I'm sure, to be meeting one of their own generation. When Concetta and I were pointed out as the owners, one of them said, "Oh, I expected someone much younger." They would have loved to test drive it, but I just smiled and kept mum. Youth may have it's rewards, but none were to be seen that day!
Ciao, tutti.
Today Concetta and I had our best day in the UK yet. Not a drop of rain greeted us when we set out today and we even had blue skies and sunshine off and on. Our hostess at the Dene Guest House suggested that we motor over to the vicinity of Newcastle-on-Tyne and visit a sort of open-air museum (Concetta and I love historic things as you probably know) that comes complete with working teens-era trolleys to transport you about the grounds. If you've ever been to Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan, you'll have some idea of what this museum is like. Imagine a sort of Disneyland for history-lovers without all the Disney-like crowds. Located throughout the grounds was a steam railroad operation, a wealthy landowner's hilltop mansion, a working farm, a
coal-mining operation, a railroad yard complete with station and engine house, a schoolhouse, workers cottages complete with greenhouses and gardens, and a complete 1913-vintage main street complete with workers in costume to explain the workings of each and every shop. I especially loved the working print shop as it contained many of the pieces of equipment I used in Nevada in the 1970s, equipment which the shop had inherited from the Nevada Appeal and dated back to the 1800s. Other shops included a motorcar garage, a candy store, a masons hall, a hats and linens store, a grocery and dry goods store, and a saloon.
Perhaps the most unusual part of our day was meeting a lovely Norwegian student on Holiday in England who took an interest in Concetta and me and decided to spend her day with us as we strolled around the grounds. Caroline (pictured here in the photograph with Concetta) turned out to have been born the very same year as our son Robert. We liked her right away, especially since she shared our avid interest in history. We toured all the attractions together, even stopping for tea and scones in the tea shop. Later, we dropped her at the bus station in Durham where she expected a ride from her sister that afternoon. Concetta and I certainly wish her the best on her solitary travels (her boyfriend doesn't like airplanes, she says, and won't travel with her). Still, Caroline says she intends to visit Vietnam, Singapore, and Australia this coming year, as well as a few other places that I've forgotten now.
Yesterday was the day that we had planned to explore Hadrian’s Wall come hell or high water (we sort of knew which it was to be). So, even though it was still raining (surprised?), we set off after breakfast to do just that. We were a little discouraged when we first fired up the Mini Cooper because the downpour appeared to have abated not an iota. Water coursed down the street in great rivers and filled up the low spots in the roads to a depth of ten inches or more. Everywhere the countryside looking soggy and half-drowned. Still, we motored off toward the main highway hoping that we’d be able to find a wall site with an indoor museum if nothing else. However, we’d only driven perhaps a couple of miles when we broke out into the long missing sunshine. Immediately it got very warm in the car and I had to stop so we could discard our jackets and I could dig around for my sun glasses. Wonder of wonders, the sun was shining! Tell Noah it was a false alarm.
Well, long story short, the sun didn’t stay out ALL day as you probably already guessed. Still, it didn’t rain too much – just a light drizzle once in a while. We had an absolutely marvelous day learning about the Roman occupation of Britain which lasted from around 47 A.D. to around 400 A.D. We visited a couple of lovely museums containing some truly wonderful finds. The soil here around Hadrian’s Wall is so damp that things that get buried tend to be preserved darn near forever. When the Romans wanted to build a new building in a fort enclosure somewhere, they tended to knock the old structure down, bring in dirt and clay and cover the remains to a depth of a foot or so, then start the new building. This demolishing and filling technique insured that all the artifacts connected with the first structure were preserved in an anaerobic atmosphere that virtually insured their survival. They’ve found everything from 1000 leather shoes and a host of other leather items, to actual letters written by the soldiers on tree bark. Keep in mind that these letters date back to the year 100 A.D. or so. Imagine finding anything 1900 years old, let alone something as fragile as ink on slender shavings of bark!!!!
The wall itself is pretty darn impressive. I had wanted to see if for years. Imagine building a stone structure 10 feet wide and up to 36 feet high for 73 MILES across the hilly/rocky/boggy terrain! There were three Roman legions stationed in Britain. Incredibly, it only took them eight years or so to complete the wall. Nowadays it would take engineers that long to do the environmental impact study. Of course, the wall wasn’t all they built. Every mile or so they constructed a small fort large enough to house 25 or 30 men. These structures would be approximately 100 feet square (see photo of the wall and adjacent enclosure) and would most often have guard towers in addition to the crenelated walls. But even this wasn’t all the Roman legions accomplished. In addition to the wall they dug deep ditches on the Scottish side of the wall to further discourage potential attackers.
Of course, once the Romans left near the end of the 4th century, the wall began to deteriorate. Subsequent residents mined the wall for building materials for their houses, barns, and stone fences. After all, why quarry your own stone (the pictured lake is an old Roman quarry) when the Romans had done such a good job of it already. For that reason the wall in most places, if not gone completely, has been reduced to wall sections only a few feet high. Still, we found it very, very impressive.
Certainly, that most famous of boat-builders must have experienced just such rain as we've seen here in Northern England in the last couple of days when he set about constructing a sanctuary from the rising waters. Here, as in biblical times, it just keeps coming down.
Resisting the temptation to set the GPS for some place like Greece, Concetta and I put aside our plans to explore the length and breadth of Hadrian's Wall this morning, and instead decided to visit the local museum dedicated to the Roman town of Corbridge. You may remember that the reason we're here in Northumberland is that my great, great, great grandfather lived in Corbridge in the 1820s. Eighteen some odd centuries before Paul Brown helped bring three children into the world in the tiny town, the Romans were busy establishing a frontier garrison between the conquered Bretons and the hated and feared Picts and Scots to the north. Though we were unable to tour the actual archaeological site due to the downpour, the museum was one of the finest I've ever seen. Archaeologists have found just about anything and everything you can imagine, including a wooden box with a soldier's third century armor inside. They've found beautiful pottery, glassware, medical instruments, gaming pieces, carved stone tablets and statues, food prep items, and thousands of equally interesting things. All were expertly displayed and clearly explained. Just wonderful.
After our museum trip in Corbridge, we moved on to the village of Hexham where we visited The Abbey of St. Andrew, first begun in the 8th century. It wasn't quite as grand as the churches and basilicas we saw in Rome in 2006, but the carved stone Gothic arches were truly magnificent and the stained glass windows took your breath away. The open-beamed wooden ceiling towered above so many stories that I found myself wondering just how those 8th century craftsmen worked way up there. Very impressive!
Our respite from the rain was short lived and when we emerged from the abbey we discovered that, if anything, it was raining even harder. We decided it was time for a tea break. Spying a cafe just down the block, we huddled under our umbrellas and made a dash for it. Then for the next hour we enjoyed fruit scones, strawberry jam, and that ever wonderful (and plentiful) English drink while we watched the sea of umbrellas flow by outside.
Casting about for some other "dry" diversion for the balance of the afternoon, we decided to check out the local cinema which happened to be showing a film we hadn't yet seen, "The Duchess." If you haven't seen it, we recommend it. Some fine acting by Keira Knightly, Ralph Finnes, and the rest of the cast.
After the movie we emerged from the theater to discover that the rain had tapered off to a slow drizzle. Feeling in the mood for soup on such a cold, rainy night, we prowled the tiny village of Hexham until we spied a sidewalk sign indicating the sought-after item was on the menu.
"Potato Leek," the waitress said, in answer to my query about the day's fare.
When the soup arrived you can probably guess the way the conversation went. "What kind of soup did they say this was?" Concetta asked, after she'd tasted the first sip.
"Ah, potato leek," I said.
"Doesn't taste like any potato I ever cooked," she said. She made a face.
"Eat it anyway," I said. "You don't want to hurt their feelings."
As you can see, finding tasty (even readily identifiable) food here in England is just about as difficult as most folks advised us it would be. Breakfasts seem to be the easiest meal for English cooks to master, so maybe we could just eat nothing but breakfasts for the next month. The strawberry jam is especially good and I could probably live on jam and bread if I had to.
We're back at the B&B now, sitting in front of a cozy fire, reading and filling out our journals. Everyone else is out attending a wedding and we have the house to ourselves. So, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain. I got a little better with the driving today. Still a little trouble with the left-handed shifting. But our trusty GPS, however disdainful it sounds when I make a mistake, faithfully guides us to and fro down these tiny country lanes in search of adventure and I expect tomorrow is going to be another exciting day.
ciao, tutti.
This morning we were surprised to find that southern Scotland was enjoying yet another day of (mostly) sunshine when we went down to breakfast. It had been raining off and on since we arrived and we were hoping to have at least a pleasant morning for our visit to the historic Edinburgh Castle. The castle is perched high above the city on a volcanic outcropping that reportedly dates back millions of years. We're told that the first evidence of early man on the mount dates to about 800 B.C. and by the look of the stone work there, it appears that the Scots have been building things atop that rock ever since. If you're into military history, Edinburgh Castle is the place to go. They have several very fine military museums there complete with vintage weapons, uniforms, and colorful artwork -- enough to keep you busy for several hours. At one exhibit they even allowed us to try on some of the Scottish military regalia from days of yore. That's me in the fusilier's furry hat there. Afterward, we got to see the room where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to James VI of Scotland, the future James I, King of England.
Our mission to the castle completed, we made our way back to the Straven Guest House where the Mini sat packed and ready for our trip to Northern England. For this vacation to the UK we bought a Garmin Nuvi 370 which comes complete with maps of Europe. Wow! What a cool piece of gear. Even though our Northumberland B&B didn't have an actual address to enter on the GPS, we just set the B&B's postal zip code into the machine and it literally took us door to door, from Edinburgh, Scotland to Hexham, Northumberland, England. The only mistakes we made were when I didn't follow its commands closely enough, at which point it reacted instantly to my mistake and said, in a somewhat disdainful voice, "Recalculating."
I'm continuing to adapt to driving on the left side of the road, though it's hardly relaxing. There's no such thing as putting one hand on the steering wheel, draping the other arm over the adjacent seat, and cruising. No, it's almost like playing one of those road-racing video games. The roads are as narrow as your average person's driveway with the roadside hedge sometimes growing right up the pavement's edge. Road signs are either too small to be seen from a moving vehicle, too low to escape being covered by foliage, or missing altogether. As with most countries, drivers here aren't very patient with folks learning to drive, no matter how old they are. They pass on hills. They pass over double lines. They pass on blind curves. Usually they do all three at once if they can manage it.
Naturally, in this particular video game, those weren't the only hazards I encountered today. Almost as soon as we got into the car in Edinburgh it started to rain. They only time it altered from that condition is when it rained even harder. And, Since road builders of these driveway-sized roads in rural England seem to prefer the roller coaster-style, uphill/downhill style of construction, the little Mini Cooper spent much time hydroplaning through the low spots. By the time we got here just before dark I was more than glad to park the our faithful Mini and pry my fingers off the steering wheel.
But what do you think? Our very congenial hostess, Margaret met us at the door with a smile, a cup of tea, and a cozy living room graced by a crackling fire to relax and drink it in. The forecast for the weekend calls for more rain. But what the heck, we have the fire, we have our books, and if the tea and scones hold out, we'll be just fine. If you don't see us in a month, just forward our mail.
ciao, tutti!
Yesterday when we arrived here in Edinburgh it decided to rain. It didn't rain hard, but hard enough to make you want to find a nice, warm pub where you could park yourself next to a nice pot of tea and watch the umbrellas go by. Today it was beautiful, not a trace of rain, and big, fluffy clouds drifted across the azure skies all day long. The first thing we did was learn the bus system, which turned out to be quite easy. From our B&B we rode to the old part of Edinburgh on a city bus which runs 24 hours a day, seven days a week. From there we bought tickets for the sight-seeing buses that tool around and give you a general, narrated overview of the city. We got off the bus near Edinburgh castle (which we're actually going to visit tomorrow) and toured the Scotch Whiskey Heritage Museum (they had samples - yum!) and the Heritage Weaving Museum. After that, we got back on sight-seeing bus (you can hop on and off as much as you like) and went down to the docks area to visit the Queen's Royal Yacht. We were having such a splendid time that we completely forgot about lunch, which may be a first for me. Actually, the breakfast this morning at the B&B was so wonderful and so filling that I scarcely missed lunch at all. Homemade yogurt and porridge, waffles and fresh fruit, English marmalade. What in heaven's name might you want besides that besides good old American coffee, which they also conjured up. Bless them, one and all!
Once done with our sight-seeing tours, we walked back into the old part of the city and found a nice restaurant where I proceeded to make up for my missed lunch. Naturally, I had shepard's pie, which was darn good, and a nice pot of tea. Concetta had the salmon which was good as well. After dinner, we managed to find the right city bus and rode it back to our B&B without a single problem. The transit system here is absolutely marvelous, comes every 20 minutes, and runs literally all the time, day and night, 24-7. The buses are clean, the patrons well-behaved, and I saw nary a single spot of graffiti on the whole fleet. Pretty amazing city. Two of the photos are of our visit to the Royal Yacht. The third is the view of the city from Edinburgh Castle.
Once back in the room I managed to round up the inn keeper and asked him to help me connect to his wireless internet. He had given me the magic password the night before but darned if I could make it work. Fortunately for my blog-crafting needs, a local neighbor with an unprotected network afforded me unlimited access to the outside world (thanks whomever you are) and I was able to do my writing.
Tomorrow we must say goodbye to Edinburgh and head south for the Scottish border country, specifically the village of Hexham, Northumberland, where the hunt for my ancestors will begin. In the 1820s one part of my family tree, the Browns, was living in the border region in the village of Corbridge. Our B&B in Hexham is located only a half dozen miles from Corbrige which was originally founded by the Romans and has been continuously inhabited since. I have scheduled four days in the area, which should give us ample time to explore Hadrian's wall, visit nearby Newcastle-upon-Tyne where the Brown patriarch was a machinist in the 1820s, and generally enjoy the peacefulness of rural northumberland before we move on to the north of Wales. And by the way, north Wales, in the county of Flintshire, is where the Davis name is reported to have its earliest beginnings I understand. So, be sure and stay tuned.
Well, here we are finally at our first B&B in Scotland. We arrived here without much in the way of trouble or inconvenience and our luggage showed up right along with us. Right now it's raining, just to make us feel welcome, but when we got here the sun was shining -- not like in Nevada, but shining nevertheless. Pictured here is Concetta next to the Mini Cooper we rented. I think it's probably a blast to drive, but so far I've been so nervous driving on the "wrong" side of the road I've scarcely noticed. It's a six-speed gear box, as they call it, which is neat. Driving on the left side feels pretty natural once you do it for awhile. We practiced by "pretending to be lost" while exiting the airport. We just drove in circles for about 30 minutes while I got the hang of it. Finally, once we figured out the GPS (and fed it the correct address) we found our way to the expressway and off we went. Soon after we arrived in Portobello, the location of our B&B.
The trip almost didn't get off the ground -- literally. Our Reno plane was well over an hour late taking off, which allowed me to deduce one thing for certain: Boeing 767s do not operate on LINUX. How do I know this? Well, when we wanted to take off from Reno yesterday the plane refused to "boot up" properly. Three times they shut the systems completely down, and three times they powered it up before we were ready to pull away from the gate. From this I deduced that the 767 must run on Windows which still requires such foolishness. They told us that all the systems just refused to come online. Ah huh. Those of you from Technology will certain be familiar with that scenario. I stopped short of asking the crew if the cockpit had a memory card reader.
Anyway, since I always insist on a two-hour layover between flights we managed to make our connection in Salt Lake City with twenty minutes to spare. But things were indeed tense there for awhile.
A word about babies: Crying -- even screaming -- babies are a fact of life on airliners. It's best to be prepared. We bought Bose "noise-canceling" headphones to isolate us from unavoidable background clutter. They don't actually cancel all noise but still do a darn good job if you crank the volume up on your IPOD or airplane sound system. We had an ornery little critter on two of our four flights who probably drove his nearest neighbors to harbor thoughts of homicide by the end of the ordeal.
But that's not the only problem with airline travel. You may be as close to heaven as you're ever going to get when traveling at 35,000 feet. However, inside the plane things are not so heavenly. In an effort to use fuel as conservatively as possible, flights are more packed than ever before. Every seat is taken and every square inch of overhead bin space is taken as well. Best to make sure you arrange to get on the plane early so you can stow your gear. Otherwise, you may have it under your feet for several hours. I suspect that the way airline pack folks into those aluminum people-movers should probably be monitored by the Geneva Convention for evidence of cruel and unusual punishment.
But hey, there was one thing that wowed me. The seat-back computer displays for games, TV shows, and Movies is absolutely terrific. You can punch up your plane's progress on the globe, watch any one of a dozen movies, listen to CD albums, and compete in a trivia game against your fellow passengers, all without leaving your seat or straining to see. That's way cool!
Anyway, we're here and we just had our first dinner in the UK. Afterward, Concetta said, "what kind of soup do you suppose that was?"
"I can't place the taste," I said, "but it was green and it was hot."
This afternoon Concetta and I watched the movie De Lovely about the life of Cole Porter and came away with a whole new appreciation for Porter's work. Some of his well-known hits of the dozens he wrote in a four-decade-long career include, "Night and Day," "Paris loves lovers," "I Get A Kick Out of You," "You're the Top," "I've got you under my skin," "Begin the Beguine," and "My Heart Belongs to Daddy." I enthusiastically recommend the movie (see jacket above). And if you want to read more about Cole Porter, click here for his bio on Wikipedia.
The couple in the above photo is gazing at Mt. Whitney, California, and the adjacent peaks. I climbed that mountain when I was 18 years old, spent ten days backpacking through the southern Sierra before I reached the summit. In those days everything seemed to take forever. Now here I am forty years later wondering where the time went. In the immortal words of that great philosopher, Ferris Bueller, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
Hey everyone, I just wanted to show you the new monitor I bought with the money you generously gave me at my retirement party. It's a Dell 19" wide screen model (one on the right). Coincidentally, my son gave me an Acer 19" wide screen as a retirement gift. So, here I am, all set up with a dual-screen display just like those I had at work -- only better. Thanks again everyone. You're the best!
If you want to know what finally brought retirement home to me it was lunch today. Today we enjoyed a weekday lunch together out on the patio for the first time since I retired. Concetta has been working for the Legislature lately, which means that I have been home by myself when lunch rolled around. Normally, I'd spend the time with a sandwich, a cup of coffee, and a Turner Classic Movie. Sweet. But today, we officially kicked off retirement together. No looking back now.
This evening, to mark our first fantastic week on the road in the UK, we decided to celebrate and have dinner in a nice restaurant situated on a tree-covered hillside overlooking the village of LLanberis (prounced Clan-bear-is) where we're staying for a few days. We dressed up in our nice clothes, made a reservation, and were cheerfully afforded the white table cloth and twelve-pieces-of-silverware treatment. Concetta had the fish, I had the chicken, and we shared an apple crisp with our espresso. It was undoubtedly the best food we've had since we arrived in the UK. Last night, at a small cafe down the road, I ended up with some sort of spinach and cheese concoction that didn't taste like either one. When I ordered they asked what I'd like with the Spinach-Cheese surprise and I said salad. Not wanting to disappoint me, they threw on a portion of every salad they could lay their hands on in the kitchen, which sort of made the plate look like several plates full of table leftovers swept onto one dish. Tonight, however, I think we finally found out where the real chefs in Wales are working.
Today we rode the cog railway to the top of Mt. Snowden, the highest peak in the British Isles. Fortunately, though the sun didn't show up for much of the day, we didn't have any rain either. The ride, should you ever make it over here to northern Wales, is absolutely thrilling and breathtaking. In service since 1896, the little narrow gauge trains relentlessly huff and puff their way to the top while affording riders the most magnificent scenery you're likely to see anywhere. 
Later, back on the valley floor and after our usual tea break, we headed off to ride yet another train which ran from approximately the same part of town but this time out around the lake instead of up the mountain. The ride behind the little steam locomotive was neat but rather tame in comparison to our morning adventure.
The slate operations in Clanberis, Wales, were known world-wide for their superior quality. Beyond that, the artistry that it took to hand split single roofing shingles out of large blocks of slate boggles my mind. Our ancestors were truly talented folks, one and all. In the bottom photo, look above the crane to see the big "V" in the hillside where they quarried the slate from the mid 1800s.
