A day at the seaside

It may have been something to do with the fact that I had taken to whirling my cast iron frying pan around my head looking for a suitable skull to rest it sharply against....or the fact that I was not answering questions..more like snarling a growl....because even when I look back at last week it really was a bit 'uphill' as things go...anyway a day at the sea was suggested. Now that in itself does not have me leaping around full of expectation because I know who has got to do the organising of picnic, car boot, animal tending when we are away, contact normal Sunday lunchers and tell them my Little Chef is closed and suggest youngest brings a mate to keep him occupied...but we set off bright and early in the rain full of the possibilities of a day in the rain in Aberystwyth..and this was supposed to make me less stressed?

It rained all the way to The Red Kite cafe where we had breakfast, swapped drivers and the 'who'll be first to see the sea' competition started. Now I know that on a really fine day just after the Red Kite and before you drop down into the next village you CAN see the sea but did not think for one minute that it was one of those days...but it was! Unbelievable! There we were in rain and mist looking at the most beautiful horizon of tropical blue sea and sky... I almost forgot to scream, 'I can see the sea!' (This poor lad that youngest has towed along..he must have thought he was out with the 'Barking' family!)

It was not a mirage and within twenty minutes we were throwing sticks into the sea for mad labrador who had never seen the sea before and thought it was good sport. BUT where was everybody else? Was there a hidden oil slick? Had we had the four minute warning? There were flags flying announcing 'Seaside Award 2007' but there was nobody else there to read them! We had the whole of the south beach to ourselves! The boys decided to wander off into the town no doubt to ogle the local talent as is the desire of two sixteen year olds and we walked the whole

length of Aberystwyth seafront from harbour to Constitution Hill in beautiful sunshine with jumpers tied round middles. There were more people on the North beach but not as many as one would expect for a sunny June Sunday which I thought was a bit odd but never mind.

By 2pm we were on the road to one of my favourite seaside towns Aberaeron.... where we parked our caravan for many years on a hilltop overlooking the sea and had massive rows about putting the awning up...until one windy August the awning ripped off and blew away..and that marked the end of our caravan holidays ....There are more pastel painted houses now ..there are whole terraces looking like bags of sugared almonds with their windows fringed with gaudy geraniums the size of cabbages. The boats tinkled in the harbour in the afternoon breeze and an old man sat in the shade in his braces with his corgi at his feet watching the world go by.

We had our very new National Trust folder with us and rustled through the handbook to find a local gem ...Llanerchaeron..(this is where the computer literate put in a 'linky' thing but I can't so very sorry) a gentleman's estate left to the NT in 1989. A house designed by John Nash, a working organic farm, a walled garden to die for and a wander through woods full of mature trees and round a lake where swallows skimmed the surface. There was a ladies' boudoir in pale green silks..it was circular... as if in a turret...strange because there were no turrets on the outside...the bedroom doors were convex...so when inside the room ..it was circular...very weird ... but very beautiful. The staircase yelled John Nash as did the glass atrium above the landing, apparently all the curves and circular tweaks are his trademark. The kitchens and scullery were open and full of interesting quirks. There was also a collection on display belonging to a Miss Pamela Ward..a lady much travelled and of independant means..who had bequeathed her collection of over 5000 items to the NT for safe keeping.

The walled gardens took my breath away and I only hope the pictures will do them justice. They are beautiful and amazing. The perfume of roses and herbs on a warm and humid Sunday in June behind the old brick walls was heady, the greenhouses were open and a vine marched through a broken window as if on a mission to escape. I could have spent a week in that garden and not seen the same thing twice.

We could hear farm noises from over the walls and eventually made our way out to find pigs and calves in old walled yards..stables now empty and huge cobbled courtyards waiting for hooves to clip clop across them.

Well they had to show us the door...it was well past closing time when we were prised away...funnily enough no-one was in any hurry to leave...not even the staff who carried on serving teas and vegetables as though it was mid day not nearly 6pm!

We meandered back to Aberaeron for a picnic on the harbour wall, a wander along the river to watch the trout while the boys went off talent spotting. Hymn music and welsh singing came from an open cottage door and I was back in the world of Dylan Thomas and Under Milkwood and Mrs Ogmore Jones.

We lazed over ice cold shandy in the still warm sun with our backs to the harbour wall as little boys worked out crab fishing strategies...and then we trekked home. As we climbed back towards the Red Kite Cafe we could see the windmills starkly white against a navy blue and purple sky .....and the rain started.