The Wye Valley

I attended a morning event with John Sutherland and John Crace in conversation. It was great to meet both men, although JC stole the limelight. I suspect the majority came to see the face behind the political sketch. The questions at the end all focussed on the politics of the Johnson government and it was interesting to see how JC was as mystified as anyone as to how Boris gets away with it all. He said how this is the first time he's witnessed the everyday abject incompetence of government descend into outright corruption. I don't think there's too many at Hay, or likely here, who would argue with that.

The weather, although not warm in the morning, was set to be beautiful so I put the bike in the car and took a circuitous and bumpy route back from Hay to Brecon in the afternoon - actually, very circuitous and extremely bumpy and extraordinarily quiet. In 47 miles of riding, almost exclusively on narrow, single track, virtually traffic free roads, I encountered no shops, no garages, and just one open pub. In the rush to leave this morning I set off with no water and no food, having to rely on that single stop at Gladestry to fuel up with a pint and a bag of crisps!

The Mid-Wales countryside was at its most beautiful today. This is a view from the Twmpath over the Wye Valley, looking north towards Builth Wells. This is where my mum was evacuated during the war and I took the opportunity to find the farm where the family still lives. Sadly, when I did eventually locate the building, there was no one there. That was not the end of the story, though, for about 6 or 7 miles down yet more winding lanes, I encountered someone gardening and stopped for a portrait opportunity, subjects having been thin on the ground all day. As we chatted and I told her about my mum, it came out that she was related to the family I'd been hoping to find. Name of Jones. It's a part of the world that works like that. I felt envious of that network of family ties and the strength of community that exists here in rural Wales. 

The legs held up pretty well without much to fuel them. The final reckoning was 6,000ft of climbing, very little of which was free since it was never possible to build up any momentum at the bottom. The roads were just too narrow and windy and poorly surfaced. But I'm not complaining. It was wonderful to be able to explore completely new vistas.

The day finished with a wander into town with S and T, a boys night out for a few beers and a watch of the Champions League Final. After entering and rapidly leaving two pubs showing the game that were totally rammed, we eventually found another, just as central, which was very quiet. We got front row seats and enjoyed a great game, even if we wanted a different result. Destiny seemed to be on Real Madrid's side through every knockout stage. It was more a game of self-belief than of football! I feel for Liverpool fans, within a whisker of the Premiership and European Championship, the ones that matter, the League Cup and FA Cup are going to feel like a consolation prize.

I slept well.