Another lovely holiday in Borth
In his weekly Wensum column, Fakenham writer Jim Harding talks about family holidays in Mid-Wales…
Our annual family summer holidays have invariably involved long drives to either Wales or Scotland. We do love Norfolk but still somewhat crave the sight and feel of mountains.
I admit to being the leader of the pack when it comes to walking all manner of paths anywhere near the house or cottage we have booked for a couple of weeks.
Thankfully our sons often accompany me which, I admit, is something I treasure. Our first foray northwards was thanks to a teacher at Fakenham Grammar School who owned an isolated place not far from Dumfries.
It was called Woodside and for years afterwards, whenever we watched a weather forecast on television, a chorus of ‘It’s raining at Woodside’ would invariably ring out.
Early on we climbed two hills within easy view which were quickly named, if not very inspirationally, Green Hill and Brown Hill. At this stage the boys were quite young and delighted in adding a stone to the cairns already on the summits.
Just below was a fast-flowing, if shallow, stream and that also became an appealing playground. Yes, it did rain a bit but I think this was somewhat exaggerated apart from our first holiday which was decidedly wet.
After a few years, my wife discovered a place in mid-Wales which took her fancy and quickly became a family favourite. We became good friends with the owners, Glyn and Eileen, and have stayed in touch with them.
Unlike me, Alison was a great fan of helping to bring new lambs into the world and would often be ‘on duty’ to help out in the indoor pens.
The farm was sited right next to a long-distance footpath, the Owen Glyndower Way, which was much more appealing to me. I often made my way along sections of it, sometimes alone, sometimes with a boy in tow.
Our holidays occasionally coincided with summer fairs in the nearby town which we joined in for fun. On Sunday afternoons we attended chapel with Eileen playing the organ and Glyn a strong voice in the small choir.
What I especially remember about these occasions was the sermons. They were not particularly long but mostly off the cuff, and with a central core which somehow contained a message which stayed with us both.
When in the past we drove home from these holidays the final miles were often apparent from the smell of smoke. That was in the days when the fields had been harvested and the stubble was often burnt off.
Things have changed for the better now, of course. With the family now grown and living more independent lives we two have kept links with Wales on a more comfortable basis which regular readers will be familiar with from my holiday Wensums sent from Borth over recent years.
Apart from regular swims with the sea virtually on our doorstep, I’ve slowed down somewhat on the activity front. Walks have been regular but fairly short and I’ve been more inclined to work my way through some favourite books from a comfortable window seat overlooking the water.
This is often a distraction with waves crashing shorewards, birds flying around and the occasional dolphin looping across the bay. By the time you read this we should be back in Fakenham and picking up the threads of our lives again.
