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...?
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...?
