On Offa’s Dyke Path

A suggested a trip to Wales and told me roughly where to look for our destination on the map. Not too hard to find once I discovered that what sounded like Morvana is actually spelt Moel Famau. Anyway, after sandwich-making and some general disorganization, we eventually set off in three cars, HH and Audrey riding alone in stately splendour, the two sisters and the younger grandchildren in Chiara’s car, and Thaisa’s Brazilian mother-in-law, who hasn’t yet mastered any English, older grandson Phil and his friend Joey with me. A beautiful drive, reaching my idea of perfect countryside (although it could do to be a bit wilder, without well-tailored fields in the distance). We all duly trod Offa Dyke’s Path, all the way to the cairn/castle/dungeon-like edifice at the top, with younger daughter (like her sister, decidedly overweight) and the two little ones making the heaviest weather of it, until properly fueled with biscuits and sandwiches. The wind roared around us, the heather was glorious and I introduced the boys to blaberries. I was in seventh heaven and it all brought back some of the best childhood memories, though mine are of the North Devon moors.

Once we got back to the cars, the two older boys shot off up a steep hill on the other side, and I followed them half-way up, only to discover that they had gone down another way and were waiting for me in the carpark. HH and H headed off home well before the rest of us, while on our way back, our town-reared daughters couldn’t resist dropping in at the Cheshire Oaks Outlet Centre. Naturally, I was reluctant to join them, but allowed myself to be persuaded…. Two pairs of trousers and a top later, I was well content with my purchases. All I have to do now is find room for them in the suitcases. Only a day and a half left :-(.