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avevale_intelligencerWe woke up feeling better, but sluggish, so didn't get anywhere for breakfast, despite a tempting menu from a nearby cafe ("Yes, we are on an industrial estate, but so in fact are you," it pointed out tartly.) I phoned H and D and got directions to the church (Holy Trinity in Penrhyndeudraeth) and a time to be there (half past ten). So afraid of being late were we that we arrived before ten o'clock, giving me ample time to find a parking place halfway down a hill and wheel Jan around some of the surrounding streets. Penrhyndeudraeth seems very much a village, though it's possible I only saw a bit of it, and it was very quiet for ten o'clock on a Monday morning.
By this time I was starting to realise where I was. I've been to Wales twice before; once in the summer of 1976, on a holiday with Mum, Dad and Pete courtesy of my godmother Auntie Val, who had a house in Penarth--I was a very maungy and petulant twenty-year-old and determined to make everyone else as miserable as I was--and once on a madcap marathon one-day drive across two countries and back to drop in on Mum and Dad, who, having missed their usual spot in Mum's beloved Cornwall, had chosen Fishguard as an alternative; and before you ask, it was Jan's idea and she did the driving. What I hadn't realised was that under all the other irrelevant feelings, I had at some point fallen in love with Wales. I didn't even notice it myself, but pushing the wheelchair around Penrhyndeudraeth was when it started to dawn on me that I was (given the circumstances) happy, and why. Then we went into the church and stood at the back waiting for H and D to arrive, while K improvised gently on the organ and managed not to sneak too many filk tunes in there.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pbristow was also in attendance, and it was nice to see another familiar face.
The funeral was simple and moving, with a lady vicar in charge, and two hymns, both of which I was able to join in with. I thought at one point of trying a harmony, and then remembered where I was and thought "Noooo." After the ceremony, we got into the car again for the drive to Minffordd cemetery, where Vera wanted to be buried (on a hill, within sight of Snowdon, and where there are owls) and managed to arrive before everyone else again despite having to do a several-point turn on the hill. The entrance to the cemetery is (again) very narrow, with rough stone walls on either side, and on a steep slope, and when the funeral party arrived, with the hearse in the lead, they had to wait in a queue up the slope till it was over, which made me quite glad we'd driven up to the car park at the end. I'm still wary of the brakes. And then everybody turned round, and we went back to the church hall for tea and sandwiches, which were very nice, especially as we were both quite hungry by this time. As usual, Jan talked to people and made new friends while I hung about trying not to loom. And then Hilary and Donna said goodbye and went home, and Keris and Paul had to leave almost immediately, and the tables and chairs were stacked up and it was all over. I passed the all-important carrier bag over to K, and then we went back to the Travelodge. We were on the loose in Wales.
For various reasons, I had to drive to Bangor. I thought this would take no more than an hour all told, so left Jan in the room. In fact it took three. Didn't I have a loverly time the day I went to Bangor? I did not. I only went twice around the one way system, and the parking space I found had at least an inch clearance either side of the car, and once I'd got there it didn't take me long to find what I needed and get on the way home again, but I was keenly aware that time had yet again got away from me, and that there would be precious little time to do anything else when I got back before the mystic hour of five when everything closes. And so it proved, much to Jan's dissatisfaction. We contented ourselves with a Chinese take-away (not bad at all) and the promise of a morning's exploration of Porthmadog on the morrow.
Which is where we'll pick this up in the next post.
By this time I was starting to realise where I was. I've been to Wales twice before; once in the summer of 1976, on a holiday with Mum, Dad and Pete courtesy of my godmother Auntie Val, who had a house in Penarth--I was a very maungy and petulant twenty-year-old and determined to make everyone else as miserable as I was--and once on a madcap marathon one-day drive across two countries and back to drop in on Mum and Dad, who, having missed their usual spot in Mum's beloved Cornwall, had chosen Fishguard as an alternative; and before you ask, it was Jan's idea and she did the driving. What I hadn't realised was that under all the other irrelevant feelings, I had at some point fallen in love with Wales. I didn't even notice it myself, but pushing the wheelchair around Penrhyndeudraeth was when it started to dawn on me that I was (given the circumstances) happy, and why. Then we went into the church and stood at the back waiting for H and D to arrive, while K improvised gently on the organ and managed not to sneak too many filk tunes in there.
pbristow was also in attendance, and it was nice to see another familiar face.The funeral was simple and moving, with a lady vicar in charge, and two hymns, both of which I was able to join in with. I thought at one point of trying a harmony, and then remembered where I was and thought "Noooo." After the ceremony, we got into the car again for the drive to Minffordd cemetery, where Vera wanted to be buried (on a hill, within sight of Snowdon, and where there are owls) and managed to arrive before everyone else again despite having to do a several-point turn on the hill. The entrance to the cemetery is (again) very narrow, with rough stone walls on either side, and on a steep slope, and when the funeral party arrived, with the hearse in the lead, they had to wait in a queue up the slope till it was over, which made me quite glad we'd driven up to the car park at the end. I'm still wary of the brakes. And then everybody turned round, and we went back to the church hall for tea and sandwiches, which were very nice, especially as we were both quite hungry by this time. As usual, Jan talked to people and made new friends while I hung about trying not to loom. And then Hilary and Donna said goodbye and went home, and Keris and Paul had to leave almost immediately, and the tables and chairs were stacked up and it was all over. I passed the all-important carrier bag over to K, and then we went back to the Travelodge. We were on the loose in Wales.
For various reasons, I had to drive to Bangor. I thought this would take no more than an hour all told, so left Jan in the room. In fact it took three. Didn't I have a loverly time the day I went to Bangor? I did not. I only went twice around the one way system, and the parking space I found had at least an inch clearance either side of the car, and once I'd got there it didn't take me long to find what I needed and get on the way home again, but I was keenly aware that time had yet again got away from me, and that there would be precious little time to do anything else when I got back before the mystic hour of five when everything closes. And so it proved, much to Jan's dissatisfaction. We contented ourselves with a Chinese take-away (not bad at all) and the promise of a morning's exploration of Porthmadog on the morrow.
Which is where we'll pick this up in the next post.
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-29 08:13 pm (UTC)I've got to get up way too early tomorrow, so I'm off to bed, now. :)
Goodnight.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-29 09:40 pm (UTC)Safe journeying.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 10:41 am (UTC)