Kathryn Harries - Soprano

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Alone once more

Diana, Will and Sharon went home today and I knew from the moment I got up that it was going to be a very strange sensation walking alone once more.
It was raining – oh no! Will and I spent the morning working on my website and he tried and very nearly succeeded in showing me how to operate the Blog site. He’s very patient.
We packed, loaded up the Jag and then Lorna and I drove away towards Wales, leaving all our chums behind. I felt quite bereft.
We parked in the same lay-by and I backtracked in my boring way to make sure I didn’t miss a footstep. And then onwards in the rain; the very, very heavy rain. I had no time to feel bereft – I just felt WET.
There’s not a huge amount to say about the day’s walking other than it rained solidly for three hours and I had the great, good fortune to be on pavements. Well, apart from one impossible and impassable bit of the A48. I cut across a very smart golf course and amused a series of golfers who found the sight of me in my sodden clothes, fluorescent tabard and white baseball cap hysterically funny. And you have to admit it, they had a point.
I negotiated the golf course without actually getting lost – I must be improving – and met Lorna for lunch just as her husband drew up in his very smart Jaguar Sports Car. I’m becoming rather taken with these quality cars – I wonder if they’d let me have one to drive around for free just so I could advertise them? Probably not. Oh well, a girl can dream…
The sun came out, I had chats on the mobile with several of my friends and then it was time to stop for tea at the Hilton Hotel outside Newport. Heaven; hot tea, delicious cakes and a proper loo. One’s needs are really very simple.
Onwards and within a quarter of a mile, down came the rain – and it belted down for ten soaking minutes before the sun shot out again and left me steaming like a tropical water feature.
I marched through Newport and, it will come as no surprise to anyone who has ever been there, I managed to go astray. My guardian angels must have been working overtime as I asked a charming gentleman and his family a) where I was and b) where should I go. Between them, they put me straight and I fair galloped out of town, ending up at Tredegar Country House Park.
Lorna drove me to Llandaff – by possibly the most circuitous route known to man or beast! In our endeavours to avoid the thousands of football fans exiting the city, we ended up doing a comprehensive tour of the Cardiff suburbs.
Not to worry; I arrived at the home of Gareth Roberts and Angela Livingstone in time for a marvellous supper, after an equally marvellous giant whisky and marvellously hot bath. Bliss. The company was spectacularly good – John Fisher, the new director of WNO and long time friend of Linda Ormiston who was there in all her glory and enthusiasm: I met Patricia Mcmahon, who was a delight and I was seated by Angela and Gareth’s lovely son, Jamie. I had a wonderful end to the day. Jamie gave up his bed for me, bless him, and I shall be eternally grateful. Some girl is going to be very lucky in due course.
Lorna and her husband spent the night at the Newport Hilton as a treat to themselves and we were all poised to enter Cardiff itself with a flourish.


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