Tales of Wales. Three Kings, High Treason and Two Good Dinners.

Tales of Wales: Three Kings, High Treason and Two Good Dinners.

Henry V

                                                                         

In a desperate attempt to get away from all this election hysteria Mrs. Sanchez and I took up a generous offer to go on a complimentary fact finding mission to Symonds Yat in the Wye Valley which is in and out of Wales, is very beautiful and is bursting with history- too much to fit into this modest organ- so I have tried to tell you the best bits. If you don't like History and share Alan Bennett's view that it's just one f****** thing after another, I've included some bits about food and terrible cruelty too. There will be a contact number at the end for anyone who is affected by any of the issues raised here and where to get some first rate nosh.

            The River Wye (Afon Gwy) as seen from Symond's Yat Rock a long time ago

Symond's Yat (east) is in England and has no mobile coverage. It's very busy in the summer and you can go over in a 'hand line ferry' to Symond's Yat (west) when the river's not roaring down like it was this week. 
Although the 'Garth Cottage Bed and Breakfast' looked inviting we were booked into The Royal Lodge Hotel (Symond's Yat East. Dogs welcome) which is bigger and does top class nosh. So off we went down the M5, M50, A40, B42219 and a narrow unnamed road down to the ancient riverside settlement of Symonds Yat(east).

We called in at Ross-on-Wye on the way down which is in Gloucestershire (England) and rather cold in January. They have a rare 'corpse cross' there which commemorates 315 plague victims who were buried somewhere nearby (nobody knows where)  in a big pit in 1637, 28 years before the Great Plague of London. The Rossians are very proud of being one step ahead of the Cockeyneys but even prouder that it's where

Edmund II (Ironside)
died from  'a traitor's wounds' 1n 1216. His murderer put a big sharp stake in his latrine and blew the privy candle out just as 'Unlucky Eddy', taken short, sat down in a hurry. Ouch!  Pity he wasn't Edmund Ironarse instead. They managed to remove the stake from his person but left a splinter in his sphincter which festered and he died from septic tank. 
There are some lovely 'riverside walks' in Ross, but Tommy was not impressed by the 'All dogs must be kept on a lead; fine of 600 ducats and a spike up the bum for offenders.' sign so we drove on to Symonds Yat (East), ('a delightful hamlet'.  Shakespeare), booked in at the Royal Lodge Hotel  and set off to walk up to the famous Symonds Yat Rock.
Yat Rock is renowned for its views over the meandering Wye and the peregrine falcons. An elderly man and wife birdwatching team (our only companions up there) looked a bit glum and greeted us thus : 'If you've come to see the peregrine falcons you're out of luck. There's no wind.' They'd been there all day by the look of it. Good job we hadn't come in search of the raptors. We wished them 'Fair winds' and made it back down to The Saracen's Head just in time to be greeted thus: 'If you're expecting any food, we finished at half past two.' Pity. We were. I bought some expensive warm beer (Mrs. Sanchez will only drink it warm) and a packet of crisps for 95p..AND THAT WAS JUST FOR THE CRISPS!

                                     Tommy on Yat Rock looking out for peregrine falcons

With 3 hours to go before tea time we went for a look at Goodrich Castle, just up the road. It's run by English Heritage who charge you £7.10 just to look at the place in the 'summer months'. No charge today! Result.

                                                      Goodrich Castle


The next day, after a full English, we set off for to look for Wales (Cymru) which we found a couple of miles down the A40 where all the signs started being in English and Welsh which is a great idea in my opinion. It must cheer Welsh people up no end when they've been off to England for a holiday or to work in one of our many schools to be greeted on their return by signs which say things like 'camerâu cyflymder'and 'dim parcio' and.......

and this one which only Welsh speakers will find amusing (perhaps).

Believe me, it's a scream.


Monmouth is the birthplace of  Henry V and there's a statue of him set into the wall of the Shire Hall in Agincourt Square. 

                            Henry V
                            
                                                                                 
Henry was born in 1386 or 1387 above a garage in Monmouth Castle. His mother was only 16 years old at the time which would put his father, Henry lV,  on the sex offenders register in modern Wales (perhaps).  His grandad was John Gaunt, a very influential kingmaker, former UKIP member and ancestor of the popular radio broadcaster from Coventry of almost the same name who now entertains the ex pat English community of Southern  Spain  on 'Spectrum FM' (Costa del Sol)' with his witty and bigoted opinions.

Because of his fluency in Welsh and his family connections young Henry was given the job of bashing the Welsh who were revolting in those days. Owain Glyndywr (spelt in many ways) was a particular pest but  was no match for Henry's 'firm but fair' slaughtering tactics.  After a spot of ethnic cleansing he hotfooted it up to Shropshire  to help his father out at the Battle of Shrewsbury (1403), fighting against Harry Hotspur, Bylli the Whyz and Dyspryt Dân where he nearly perished  when an arrow got stuck in his face. Luckily young Henry had access to better doctors than Edmund II (Ironside) and made a quick recovery mainly thanks to honey and alcohol.
When he became king in 1413, one of the first things Henry  did was to have a go at the French for helping the Welsh. The French king, Charles VI , had mental issues and  thought he was made of glass most of of the time. He tried to buy off Henry with empty promises but Henry saw through him and gave the French a good biffing at Agincourt where he had all the French prisoners killed. He died of dysentry or toxic megacolon in France when he was 35 or 36, not much older than Unlucky Eddie Ironside or, indeed, Charles Rolls (see below)

Moral: Uneasy sits on the head that bears the crown. (Henry IV Part 2 -adapted) and don't be born in Monmouth if you want to live to  draw your pension.

If you try to take a photo of Henry V, this big bronze statue in front of Shire Hall gets in the way.

It's the Honourable Charles Stewart Rolls, third son of Baron Lllangattock, and better known as one half of the best selling duo Rolls and Royce. Yes, he was born in Monmouth and that's an aeroplane he's holding. 

             'Poshboy' Charlie Rolls showing off his new car to HRH The Duke of York 

Not  content with being a (posh) household name for cars he was the first person to fly to France and back without stopping. Who can blame him? Quite a contrast to his fellow townsman Henry V who couldn't keep out of the place. 
He was even younger than Henry  when he died, aged 32, after his plane crashed near Bournemouth.  His last achievement was to be the first Briton to be killed in an aeronautical accident with a powered aircaft. Well done Charlie!


The lady in the tourist information room inside Shire Hall couldn't have been more helpful and charming when I asked her about John Frost.
The story goes that he was the last man in England to be condemned to death by being 'hanged, drawn and quartered'. And in 1840!
WARNING!
Readers of a delicate or nervous disposition should think twice before reading on (possibly good advice anyway).

                    John Frost at his trial

John Frost was a Chartist from Newport, about 26 miles from Monmouth. The Chartists wanted what we would consider today to be modest reforms ; universal male suffrage, voting by secret ballot, annual elections, payment of MPs., equal constituencies and no property qualification to be an MP. They believed in 'direct action' and the Welsh branches were the most militant. When about 3000 men marched into Newport they were fired on by  soldiers hiding in a pub and 22 were killed. Frost and other leaders were arrested, charged with high  treason and found guilty at Monmouth Assizes. High Treason still carried a penalty of death by hanging drawing and quartering. You can go in and see the courtroom and the holding cells in Monmouth's fine 18th. century Shire Hall.(free). Here's what traitors had coming to them.

Convicts were fastened to a hurdle, or wooden panel, and drawn by horse to the place of execution, where they were hanged (almost to the point of death), emasculated, disembowelled, beheaded and quartered (chopped into four pieces).

Even in times when a man could be hanged for stealing a pair of trousers this seemed a bit harsh and  Queen Victoria had only been on the throne for 3 years and was just about to marry Prince Albert  and so wanted to create a good impression. The judge let them off with a trip to Tasmania and Queen Vic. gave medals to the murdering soldiers and a knighthood to their commander. Happy days.

The Chartists were mainly men; they were only asking for votes for men after all. This did not stop hundreds of misguided women from joining up. They must have misread one of the demands as 'universal male suffering' . Dyslexia was not invented for another 100 years.

Monmouth is full of history and shops and is where I had my first pint of bitter when I was stationed there for a weekend in 1962 but I can't talk about that. We had a nice cup of coffee (Earl Grey tea for Mrs. Sanchez as they don't serve warm beer) in Waitrose's fine cafe and headed north to Hay-on-Wye.

                               Hay Castle and Bookshop

You can't move for castles round here. Hay-on-Wye has two. We passed two more on the way to Hay (Skenfrith and Grosmont),just missed White Castle and forgot all about Raglan Castle where the jumpers are made. You get some idea of why they built so many of them as the B4347 winds in and out of Wales and England. They mustn't have known if they were coming or going back in the old days. We weren't too sure either as the road got narrower and the the sky darkened over the Black Mountains to our left. 

Hay-on-Wye ( Y Gelli Gandryll) used to be in Brecknockshire,which was my second favourite county name. It's now in Powys  so it's in Wales, is twinned with Timbuctu and  has a Hereford (in England) postcode. Who says the Welsh don't have a sense of humour?
One of Wales's best comedians is Richard George William Pitt Booth MBE., a local bibliophile (it's legal in Wales) and secondhand bookshop owner. In 1977 he declared himself 'King of Hay', named his horse (they all have horses round here) Prime Minister of the 'Independent Kingdom of Hay', issued passports and created 21 new hereditary peers. He was deposed and ritually beheaded in Hay's Old Butter Market in 2007 for joining the Socialist Labour Party.

                  King Richard Coeur de Livre (self styled)

                         King Dick (aged 71) meets his end.

During the days when no-one had heard of Hay-on-Wye, iPhones or quantitative easing King Dick had the original idea of importing secondhand books from the USA and wearing his glasses on a slant. He sent a gang of strong lads from the Hay Bodybuilders' Club  to buy up all the stocks of the hundreds of American libraries which were closing down in their thousands from lack of readers. There are now more than two dozen secondhand bookshops in Hay, all selling copies of Dr.Seuss, Moby Dick, Uncle Tom's Cabin and other classic American titles. I bought a rare copy of George Borrow's 'Zincalí' for £3.00. A bargain. Hay attracts over 500,000 visitors a year which has brought untold riches to it's booksellers and pub owners. How ungrateful of them to behead the king!

If you're still awake or recovering from the gruesome details of cruel and unusual punishment here's something a bit more palatable.
The food at The Royal Lodge Hotel in Symonds Yat (east) ( 01600 890 238) is fantastic. We had two dinners there. The Pan Fried Duck is superb and I had it both nights.

Caminito del Rey watchers may like these two films. and it has its own facebook  page.

Don't forget. It's free for the first month.

January 25th. 2015

 

Man not in Álora. Sanchez is White Van Man.

Man not in Álora is White Van Man

It appears that we in the UK are to be subjected to 4 long months of election build up broadcasts. Mrs. Sanchez and I have got it wrong again. We don't return to Álora until the end of March!
It's a good job I've got something to occupy myself here in wintry Brum. One of my readers (almost a stalker, really) has complained about the lack of more gem encrusted posts during the last few weeks. Well it HAS been Christmas and New Year, Alan, and Mrs. S. and I have just entered a new world of pain and bewilderment by treating each other to a 'smart phone'. These are taking up a lot of our time at the moment. They are watching me as I write this.

Also I have discovered that two dodgy cyber bandit companies  have been milking our bank and credit card accounts. Apparently it's all quite legal for  Equinox Day n Night Serum
and RVTL anti-aging to relieve you of £200.00 a month if you answer an ad. for a free trial and don't read the small print carefully. Take care all dear readers who might feel the need to turn back the clock a bit without costly surgery. 

                                                     The Duchess of Alba RIP.

They don't like giving you your money back either, funnily enough. I don't usually give advice, so I won't.

Mrs. Sanchez suggested I should follow the example of millions of Spaniards, Poles, Armenians, Lituanians, Laps and Lats and not a few Brits and look for a job to occupy my time whilst in fair Albion. It was easier than I had imagined. I went to see the nice people at FareShare, Birmingham (see blog January 2014) and they took me on. They let me drive a big white van round the highways and byways of the West Midlands Conurbation and I only have to work two days a week. Only snag is they don't pay me either. (which I pronounce 'eye-there').

 Here's a typical day.

                                   
                                                     FareShare Birmingham


7.00am. Woken up by alarm on new phone. Put on old jeans and shirt have a wash and shave and  go downstairs to put the kettle on and let Tommy out. Rescue the fire. Make a mug of tea for me and a lemon and honey for Mrs. Sanchez. (Spanish lemon).

7.30 am.  Take drink up to Mrs.S. and set off for work. Still dark and cold outside but traffic through Brum already heavy as parents criss-cross the city driving their children to schools just up the road or miles from where they live so that they can get a good education.

8.00 am arrive at FareShare Birmingham. Put on my protective boots and high viz jacket. Take a quick look at what food is about to be thrown out but 'rescuable' and a bIg Sainsbury's chilled lorry backs up to the unloading entrance to be  unloaded. Steve, on forklift, asks me to  get on the wagon and bring the pallets down to the back as Scotch John can't be found. First time I've done this as it requires pumptruck skills in a confined space and the pallets are packed tight. I resist offers to get the f....off and let somebody do it who is not .f......useless. Many insults later I get the first one cubic metre pallet to the back door of the wagon. I've got the hang of it now and five  black polythene swathed towers of chilled food are put in 'chiller number 4'. I put the kettle on a for cup (plastic beaker) of tea. (no food or drink on the warehouse floor). Will (warehouse manager) shouts something obscene from the upstairs office window. I reply 'Happy New Year', as it's my first day back. 'F........that. Get that pallet stripped please'. 

                                                          Stripping a pallet

The black polythene is cut off and we start to unload boxes of steak pies, butter, yoghurt, soup, curries, pizzas- all manner of chilled food which has to be put in quantities, categories, checked for use by date stacked in one of the four big chillers and booked on to the computer database. The food must not be allowed to go below 4 degrees centigrade.

                                                    Inside chiller number 2

 Time to drink my tea as other volunteers arrive. Around here I am known as 'Spanish John' to disitinguish me from 'Scotch John' who is  a small wiry Glaswegian and now  rolling a cigarette in the staff room. I take a chance that he is in a sociable mood and ask him if he made it to Scotland for Hogmany. I gathered that he had not. John swears a lot by which I mean 'more than everyone else',  which is saying something. He only uses two basic  root swearwords which serve for all parts of speech. 

                              The Staff Room. Will gives orders. Scotch John listens.

Tommy walks in. 'F......tax dodger' is Tom's usual greeting for me, but Tom hasn't been well lately and doesn't reply.. The radio is tuned to Radio 5 live so that means Francis is in. The smell of a ready meal curry wafts in from the kitchen microwave; Scotch John's breakfast .

9.00am. I go into the warehouse to check out what's in the chillers and what's stacked on the staging round the warehouse (ambient food). Chapatti flour, bags of potatoes, curry sauces, bolognese sauces, cereals, mixed tins cakes, chocolates, fruit juices pasta, tea, coffee, some pineapples,bottled water and more. I plug the van in to power the chiller up. We'll be loading the vans when Will has done the orders and it's worth knowing where things are when he shouts for eg. 'Two meat soup, two veg soup' or 'Four treacle sponge and two puff pastry, number 3'. When you're the oldest volunteer (I prefer 'father of the house') you can't show weakness or you'll be trampled to death.

                         FareShare warehouse number one. Vans ready for action.

'John!'   'Which one!'   'Spanish!'   'What?'   'Will wants you!'. I bound eagerly up the stairs to the warm tidy office where Eli,  the new boss, is on the phone and Will hands me the orders for my round. If you'd clicked on the FareShare link earlier you'd have seen Eli on the home page. She's the one on the right. I don't know who the fresh faced youth is with her. They must have hired an actor. None of our volunteers looks half as healthy or enthusiastic as that ! 
Only three drops today. Our  highly trained and motivated volunteer crew springs into action when I wave the delivery sheets and the first van is loaded within minutes. Off we go, Scotch John, Francis and Spanish John in the van with no radio (stolen) but gears that work. Scotch John has a pal called 'Cockney John' who is living in a big house in Winson Green at the moment; we'll give him a wave when we pass by on Thursday.. While we're hurtling through  Erdington, Willenhall and Wolverampton, passing some of Birmingham's beautiful and world famous heritage sites, the other van will be loaded and driven off to Coventry.
 A Tesco wagon was backing up  when we left, so more food will be unloaded and stored ready for sending out tomorrow. We deliver more than 13 tonnes of food every week (800 tonnes a year) which would otherwise be destined for landfill and that's just from our depot. This is food that has never reached a supermarket but has been rejected, sometimes inexplicably,  by the main depots of Sainsbury's, Tesco, Asda and others even though it is within its 'use by date'. If we can't shift it before that date we have to throw it away. We deliver mainly to 'food hubs', hostels for homeless people, drop in centres, women's refuges, schools, care homes for the elderly and food banks. 

Meanwhile, back in Álora the Caminito del Rey is getting ready to open to the public.

If you can get down to Alora next month it's free. A very sceptical  friend from Redditch has suggested that they want to try it out on the public and can't be held responsible for death or injury incurred whilst having a free go. As if !
Check out the new corporate image by clicking on the link above.

................Stop press............preview of next blog.......

 January 9th. 2014.

Six and a half leagues from Santander and not a sign of Dick.

Six and a half leagues to Santander. No problem. That's a  six and a half hours  walk from this league post. We'll give it two days by car from Alora. 
It's that time again. On with the the cd of Christmas songs and off we go. It took all day to load the car up with wine, gin, oranges, lemons, mandarins, chorizo, sachichón, turrones and clothes and other stuff and there's still room in Tommy's cage for an illegal immigrant or two. I expect to be pulled in at the port for that remark. They are watching us all the time now and nowhere is safe from the eyes and ears of GCHQ, CIA,  NSA, USB and HDMI. In fact, if you want to escape the prying eyes and ears of the intelligence gatherers there's no safer place than Spain, and in particular, on the autovias and autopistas. 

Back in England Mrs. Sanchez and I soon get used to the surveillance cameras which seem to be installed  everywhere you go and, I imagine in lots of places you don't go. (like Wales). There must be millions of them and, presumably, thousands of people or robots watching the screens that they are linked to. 
There are between 4 milliion and 5.9 million of them in England at the moment according to a report from the British Security Industry (BSIA). That's one for every eleven people. You'd think they might have a closer stab at the total, wouldn't you? 1.9 million cameras can't be that hard to find. Unless, of course, they are 'hidden' cameras.
Spain had about 14,000 in 2010 and 13,000 of those are run privately  and are imported from the UK.

 On the Spanish motorways you are given lots of warning when a speed camera is up ahead.

and they are very few and far between so it's your own fault if you get caught. (once so far). Radar spotting devices are illegal here in Spain and you could get fined over 400€ for going just  1km. over the limit. And it's no use appealing or you'll lose the 50% discount for paying early. People will tell you that there are helicopters checking on speeding cars too but I don't believe that as you can't see a number plate from above, can you?

Anyway, we'll be off at the crack of dawn tomorrow, which is at about 8 o'clock here, so it's Hasta luego from me until the first in the next series of 'Man not in Álora

December 1st. 2014