My last weekend in London was spent in Wales, funnily enough. I did my first visit in about a year, a trip steeped with memories. Memories I didn't need, incidentally, as Bangor hasn't changed at all in a year, save for a few more empty shops on the High Street.
The train journey was mercifully trouble-free, if arse-numbingly long from London - an epic ride, as ever. There's a little patch of water as you leave Llandudno Junction along the mainline, pass through Conwy and move out into a bay - the most beautiful stretch of railway I've ever been on. There are boats, sleepy little fishing villages (mainly because they have no work) and herons, doing whatever it is that herons actually do.
I was leaving London after a busy Friday's work, I'd helpfully informed the B&B that I would be getting there at about half past nine - I rapped on the door at nine forty for it to be opened by a pleasant woman in her middle ages, greeting me with a cheery "Mr Burnett? You're late." I may have lied about the cheery. You do get what you pays for at thirty pence a night, but here was the friendly Bangor welcome that I remembered.
Tomorrow - I go to the shops.
2 hours ago