Wales - A Review

My wife and daughter started hatching a plan for my birthday some weeks ago. They wanted to take me away for a birthday surprise (surprising not least because my birthday is in December), but they wouldn't say any more.

It's fair to say that, with a 6 year old, you learn something new every day. Over the last few weeks I've learnt that my daughter is almost really good at keeping secrets. A passing reference a few weeks ago, in a pub, to her writing skills caused her to comment on "writing about Wales", followed by a swift hand-on-mouth "D'oh!".

OK, so the cover was slightly blown, but Wales is a big place.

Spin forward to last week, and we are in the car, with the Sat-Nav craftily positioned on the other side of the car. After crossing the beautiful Severn Estuary we turn north towards Abergavenny. My knowledge of Wales is, at best, hopeless, so it's only when we get near our destination do I finally understand why we are here.

The giveaway is the forked tail on the sign saying "Welcome to Powys", a sight I have seen counteless times from my bedroom window.

We arrive at our base, Llandrindod Wells, and set about the normal holiday game of "Find The Hotel". What is usually an epic contest of man and Google Maps versus sat-nav turns out to be an anti-climax as the hotel stands out like the Emerald City in the Land of Oz.

The Metropole Hotel is a huge, green beast of a building. The only reason I can fathom for such a colour scheme is that the owners left it to some TV comedy sidekick to go down to B+Q, while they went away to Aberystwyth for the weekend. It really is green. Really.

Inside, it proudly shows off its 144 year, family-owned heritage. What this means in real terms is that the decor looks like it hasn't been changed in 144 years either. Having said that, our room was nicely laid out and bunk beds are always a winner for a 6 year old.

After an evening of playing crib on the bed next to a sleeping daughter, we slept well til the next morning. Breakfast was suitably enormous - Baby Annabelle was even given her own high chair - and after a long swim in a pool all to ourselves, we went on our expedition.

We drove round the Elan Valley, and enjoyed the jaw-dropping views of the countryside, but it was the Friday afternoon that was the "Big Surprise". My daughter, being six, wanted me to be blissfully unaware of what was happening right up until I took my seat. This would have been a tough ask, as the sign saying "Red Kite Feeding Centre" was pretty enormous.

After a warm welcome to Gigrin Farm, Rhayader and brief explanation ("he did give the surprise away a bit there, didn't he, Daddy?") we took our seats for the main event.

Now I should say that I am a sucker for Birds of Prey in general. I'm convinced that one day, I'll be so engrossed in watching a hovering kesterel, that I will walk into a lamp-post.

This takes it to a whole new level.

Every day, at the same time, the farmer drives into a field in a tractor, the trailer loaded with meat chunks, and proceeds to throw meat everywhere. He then drives away and the show commences.

I looked up from my hide and saw hundreds of red kites. It was like something from a Hitchcock film. And then they start swooping. It's hard to put into words how amazing this sight is. What is the most breath-taking part? Is it the sheer number of birds, who come from up to 40 miles away for a guaranteed snack? Is it the spectacle of dozens of birds swooping down at any one time? Or is it the sudden silence that is drawn over the whole venue, save for the click-click of a dozen SLR cameras trying to keep up?

I enjoyed it so much that, like the birds, I was there the same time the next day, and the amazing thing was that it was completely different. The howling winds had gone, the sun was out, and the birds were fighting each other for the food. Every so often a buzzard would swoop in and just stand on the ground, porking away at the beef.

On our way home, we drove via Ross-On-Wye, and had lunch at a lovely cafe called "Nature's Choice", then we drove through the Wye Valley which, during autumn, has the most stunning array of colours (that makes me sound very old, but it was pretty), and it was a shame to have to come back to boring old Oxfordshire.

Still, at least I get my daily kite fix. Now, what would the wife say to me if I felt like leaving chunks of beef in the garden...?

Sad Sight - a boat half underwater

Here are some photos I took of a boat being towed into Kingswear during the Dartmouth Regatta 2010. I don't know if it was competing, but as we all commented, it's always a sorry sight to see a broken boat being towed in.

Cornwall: A Review

Like a huge number of other folk, the Marczak family went South West for their Easter holidays and, in amoungst the vast quantities of Sauvignon and Sensations, there was the wonders of Cornwall to explore. If you have a family of younguns, you may find this review of interest.

We stayed at The Olde House, in Chapel Amble. This family-run enterprise comprises countless farmhouse cottages, a pool, snooker table, tennis courts, ball-pit "play barn" and "Pet's Corner", as well as all the sights and smells you'd expect from a working farm.

We stayed at Smeathers Farmhouse, positioned five minutes drive down a windy road - cycle at your peril - and completely cut off from the main road leading into the village of Chapel Amble. The village itself has a Post Office, an excellent pub called The Maltsters Arms, and a few houses. All in all, this was getting away from it on a grand scale.

The Farmhouse easily slept the 6 of us, with bunk beds to spare. There were plenty of bits in the kitchen, and the cream tea welcome was a lovely touch.

Being so cut off, it was easy to let the kids run riot outside, although the ceilings seemed to be paper thin, so they couldn't get away with much at bed time.

Out and about, we went to a few places.

St Kew golf club - Perfect for beginners and hackers alike, not especially challenging, but short enough to get a full round in without it upsetting the other half.

Hustyns Leisure Club and Spa - very nice, so I'm told, though not the easiest place to find without really good directions.

Lappa Valley Steam Railway - down near Newquay, this is hidden away, and is heaven for kids who like trains. Multiple mini train rides, crazy golf, boating lake, maze, playground, slide. Excellent fun for young children.

Blue Reef Aquarium - In Newquay town centre, tightly packed little aquarium with octopus feeding, a turtle, sharks, a walk through tunnel, jellyfish, starfish and, most crucially, steps for little kids to take around with them if they need help seeing over the top. Good value for money, and very helpful staff.

Dairyland - the twee name made me sh-udder a bit (sorry), but inside it is a properly old school farm play area. Petting areas, slides, tractor rides, pony rides, chickens roaming free, sand pits, climbing apparatus, this was a day trip in itself.

What surprised me was how close everything seemed to be. Having not been to Cornwall since I was tiny, I was expecting long hauls to all the attractions, but it wasn't like that at all. With some fun trips to Padstow and Polzeath thrown in for good measure, I really appreciated the variety available, particularly for infant school aged kids.

We are all set to book next year. Now where's that holiday form?

Write Letters. It's The Future.

It's fair to say that we don't write letters like we used to. I know I don't. If I cast my memory back, I wrote a lot of letters when I was courting the better half, but then that was when internet was in its infancy and not everyone had the internet at home.

Aside from thank you letters, I don't "write" letters at all. I might type one and print it out, but you won't catch me sitting with a ball point pen and a pad of paper any time soon.

So it is with great joy that I am able to regale you a story I was told by a friend of my wife, who is a head teacher somewhere in Oxford. She was describing how one of her staff had been going through a book with her class, "Kasper, Prince Of Cats", by Michael Morpurgo.

From what I've heard, the cat is a statuette, placed at a table in the Savoy Hotel to warn off bad luck. The story is about a bell-boy and his relationship with a real-life black cat at the hotel, and the adventures they undergo.

So taken by this book were the class, that they wrote to the hotel asking if they could come and see the cat that inspired the story.

The hotel then wrote back and said, sorry, that part of the hotel is currently undergoing refurbishment. But we can arrange for you to see it at our club next door.

Excellent news, the teacher thought. Then came the follow up, we have been in touch with the author, and he would be happy to talk to the class via video-conference! This is unbelievable, thought the teacher.

Shortly before the trip, the hotel rang again. Sorry, they said, Michael Morpurgo said that he won't be able to do the videoconference now, because he has decided to come in person! Cue jaws on floor.

So the day came, and the children got to meet the cat, the hotel laid on cat shaped biscuits and squash, and they sat in revered silence as Michael Morpurgo talked to them about the book they loved so much.

After their time was up (they had an appointment at St Paul's to go to), the headteacher asked the hotel organiser why they had gone to such great lengths for one morning's work.

"Because you wrote letters to us. No one writes letters any more, so it stood out."

And there you have it. They get dozens of emails asking for facilities, but no one writes any more. The kids did more than just ask for something, they showed how much they wanted it, and that's something you can't do in Times New Roman. The power of the letter should not be forgotten.

Slightly Later Than Planned #1

#1 - I don't like Mondays - Boomtown Rats

Original Release Year - 1979 (me aged 3)

Picture the scene. A child receives a brand new toy. But not just any toy. This is a record player. It's a Fisher Price record player, but it plays records nonetheless. Grown up records too.

The modern equivalent would probably be me buying my daughter an Early Learning Centre MP3 player, I'm sure there is such a thing, so my parents clearly recognised the role that music would play in my life when they bought me that record player. And judging by my favourite song of all time, they seem to have crafted it as well; I can only assume that they bought the record in the first place.

I'm guessing most three year olds have a favourite song that is played ad infinitum in the car or at home. High School Musical probably. It was only when I was about 15 that I discovered that my favourite song was all about a high school shooting spree in January 1979. Brenda Ann Spencer just took potshots out of her bedroom window at the school opposite because she didn't like Mondays. Naturally I don't recall any of this, but the internet is a wonderful thing, and you can read about the inspiration to the song here.

All I remember is having this record on continually at bedtime. Maybe it's the lack of percussion that makes this track stand out from most, after all this was an era of punk fighting with disco, where drums made all the difference. And here was a number one single that had none.

It's been slightly peculiar nosing through all these old favourites of mine. What surprised me a little was that only one track is from the last decade. Does this mean I have grown weary of music, or that music has just grown weary?