Author: Rare Bit Blogging

and I’m getting pretty good at this holiday business if I say so myself. I started at Pentre Ifan burial grounds which sounds a bit morbid but it really wasn’t – it was quite magical actually:

Reading the description provided some insights and explanations, one involving fairies which I quite like.

In any case, it fired my imagination.

On to Cilgerran. I wanted to see a Welsh castle.

I’m amazed I’ve never heard of Cilgerran castle. It’s an incredible structure and so well preserved. A red kite soared over the sleepy village as I got out of my car. Things were looking up.

The castle is vast. Perched on top of the hill, it offered perfect views from all angles. There was a kiln:

and plenty of other castle characteristics. I could really visualise castle life back in the 13th century.

I wandered around the surrounding area and found myself on the banks of the Teifi:

It was peaceful and idyllic.

I went back up and chilled out on the grass beneath the castle.

before popping in to the surprising village shop. It had an eclectic selection of goods. There was even a refill section with staples like pasta and shampoo as well as local produce. I had a conversation in Welsh with the shopkeeper who explained that the coffee beans were from a producer who lives half a mile away. It looks excellent and I can’t wait to try it.

Back to HQ to freshen up before going out for dinner. Regular readers of this blog will know I like to treat myself to one special supper to mark a vacation. I booked myself a table at Yr Hen Printworks in Cardigan. It’s a Michelin guide restaurant (2023-25) offering tapas style small plates prepared with loving detail by Chris Walker. The restaurant is lovely, the atmosphere warm and relaxing, and the staff were brilliant.

I chose 3 dishes, the Cardigan Bay lobster wontons with pak Choi and coriander in a spiced mushroom broth:

It was sensational. The broth was beautifully balanced and the delicate tiny mushrooms were soft, meaty and so flavoursome.

Next up was a wedge of Hispi cabbage smothered with nduja which I’ve never tried. It was lip tinglingly hot and very moreish.

Last up was the lamb shoulder pudding with wild garlic and caper. It was rich and hearty, the slow cooked lamb packed with comforting flavour. I got goosebumps.

I didn’t think I’d have dessert but I noticed an intriguing little chocolate number on the menu and I didn’t take much persuading:

It was an unforgettable dinner. I’d go back in a flash. I have to stop myself from rebooking so that I can try the other three dishes I shortlisted.

I felt a little restless after dinner so I decided to drive through Gwbert. It was almost sunset and the sky was making all sorts of wonderful colours. I got there just in time:

began with some trepidation. I wanted to go on a longer walk as it’s a great way to get to a feel for a new area. Upon the recommendation of 2 locals I decided to walk along the stretch of the Ceredigion coastal path between Aberporth and Llangrannog. I always worry a bit if it’s an unfamiliar route as I don’t know what’s ahead of me. That’s part of the fun too.

I got excited as soon as I arrived at the car park:

I parked right next to the dolphin. Was it a promise of things to come? There were warning signs – don’t interfere with seals, especially lone pups. What? Seals?!!!!

It took me a while to get going – I was determined to see the elusive sea mammals. I willed them to make an appearance. I kept one eye on the sea just in case. After a while my attention shifted to what was right in front of me:

The weather couldn’t have been better with bright blue skies, warm sunshine and a cool breeze.

The beauty of Cardigan is that it isn’t overcrowded. On my walk I think I saw a total of 50 people. I passed a few small beaches along the way and there were only a few people there.

About 2/3 of the way to Llangrannog, I was startled by a screeching sound. I looked up and saw a black bird with long splayed fingers. It looked like something I knew, then I put two and two together – it was a chough!

I’ve never seen one although they’re prevalent here. It was so close. I saw 4 more as I ate my picnic, flying toward the cliffs, maybe to their nest. It was a highlight and made up for the absent dolphins.

Walking alone is enjoyable as I can go at my own pace but it can get lonely and the occasional chat wouldn’t go amiss. I was in good spirits though after a deep sleep.

It was a tough walk with lots of ascent. The paths were often narrow with vertiginous drops. It was a good test, and let’s face it, this place is exquisitely beautiful:

There’s a raw wild energy that I really love.

Some photos:

It was quite an uneventful day so this post will be brief. I slept until just after 7. I did some yoga and stretching to soothe my creaky body after over 6 hours in the car yesterday along with all the packing and subsequent unpacking. I always feel an urge to do lots when I go away. 6 days can be really brief when there’s so much to see and do, so I’ve cut myself some slack and I have loose plans for some days. If I have half a day chilling out on the cosy couch here, I’ll have had a proper holiday, but the weather’s so good!

I wanted to see New Quay as it’s a hotspot for dolphins.

It’s a tiny fishing village with lots of little shops, a few pubs and a selection of fish and chip shops. It was another beautiful day and the village was quite busy with people relaxing on benches and enjoying their fish and chips. I didn’t, but I might. I find that the smell of fish and chips is better than the actual eating experience.

I walked on the sand, then along the harbour and gazed longingly at the calm sea, yearning for a few fins or a pod. Nothing.

I walked a bit further towards a fish processing factory and gazed out there too. Again nothing. Apparently early in the morning is a good time to see them, or later in the day when the factory feeds them leftover fish. They often come right in to the bay.

I swallowed my disappointment and drove on to Cardigan, or Aberteifi 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿 It was bigger than New Quay and again quite busy. There was a market and lots of small independent shops but most of them shut at 4. I enjoyed walking around the town and I noticed it had a castle right in the centre. There was also a statue of an otter by the river:

Best keep an eye out for them too.

To end my afternoon out I drove through St Dogmael’s, where there’s an interesting looking abbey (perhaps a half day in Cardigan is on the cards before I leave) and went to the beautifully named Poppit Sands. (There are some lovely place names here – Plwmp, Mwnt, Gwbert etc) I had a quick look but decided I’d spent enough time in my car for today.

I called in at a shop for some vegetables and picked up a book for £1 –

Someone mentioned it to me – was it you?

started with a long drive down through the depths of Wales. I twisted along narrow rollercoaster roads in beautiful sunshine and felt slightly pleased with my last minute decision to book a cottage on a farm near Cardigan for the best part of a week. Despite numerous trips to South Wales as a child, Ceredigion is a part of Wales that’s totally unfamiliar to me. I haven’t been on holiday properly since last February. I didn’t really want to fly and I didn’t want to go to the east coast again so Ceredigion was the obvious choice.

I had to turn back twice as I’d forgotten some important things that I’d have regretted not doing/having with me so my trip was extended by about an hour. Oh well. It was a beautiful day anyway and once I got past Manchester it was plain sailing.

One thing I’d forgotten about driving in Wales is that there are very few services and definitely nothing resembling motorway services. After 3.5 hours, I saw a sign for WC and turned off the main road towards a small town. It was 40p for a pee. I went back to my car and rummaged for some coins. The toilets were pristine and smelt clean AND there was toilet paper. 40p was a fair price.

I had a stretch, took a big slug of strong coffee and resumed my journey. Only another hour and 35 to go! Usually after 3 hours I lose interest but the scenery was so breathtaking and the narrow winding roads ensured I stayed alert.

As I got closer to Aberystwyth, I saw red kites soaring quite low. After Aber, I lost count there were so many. I love kites, they’re very special birds and distinctly Welsh.

Suddenly, everything began to sparkle. It was the sea! At last! 5 months without that energy felt long.

I got to my accommodation, unpacked the car and was soon greeted by my host who offered me a basket of freshly laid eggs. Amazing! He was very friendly and offered me lots of tips, particularly about the best place to see the sunset – Mwnt beach. Look:

I can’t remember the last time I had the beach to myself. It was very special.

There’s a tiny chapel above it:

I walked around it and looked at the tombstones. The older ones were illegible, the dates and details abraded by the briny air.

I went inside:

As I approached the farm, a barn owl swooped low towards my car. A magical first day indeed.

I’ve been spring cleaning and decluttering my house. I started my ritual at the end of January actually. I like to get in nice and early. My favourite time of year seems to arrive sooner then. It starts on St David’s Day, then comes British Summer Time which means it’s almost Easter. I LOVE Easter ☺️

I love seeing the days get longer. Dawn tiptoes in and gently rouses me a little earlier every day. The warm embrace of her light is full of life and energy. Winter affects me more deeply each year. I find the cold increasingly intolerable. I have to tear myself away from the heater in the kitchen. I’ve gained weight. Bigger portions of warming healthy food have been comforting.

My joints complain but I exercise regardless. The attic is so cold when I go up but after 10 minutes my inner radiator switches on.

In other news, my psoriasis is significantly better:

I’ve had no itching since about a fortnight after I started acupuncture ☺️ From last July I diligently followed the herbalist’s advice for 5 months, cutting out lots of foods from my diet and taking the tincture 3 times a day but I think my legs got worse. Traditional Chinese medicine may well be the way forward for me. I might get down but I’ll never give up.

I’ve enjoyed a fayre free weekend. Bookings are down this year and couples are, quite understandably given the current climate, hesitant about committing. It’s heartbreaking though. Fayres are really hard work and a bit pointless if they’re not producing gigs. I look at social media like this 🫣 because I wonder what’s wrong with me/my playing/ my personality if I’m not booked up for 2026 and beyond and having my best year ever like some of my peers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted others are super busy but it does affect me and it makes me question my services and my future in the industry.

I’m starting to emerge from hibernation. It feels like we’re definitely close to the end of winter. I mean, just listen to the birds! Their song is notably more upbeat and urgent. The air smells different and, although it’s still very cool, the sun is getting stronger. I always forget how long UK winters are, and how warm weather feels. It seems like cold is the only feeling I’ve ever known.

I’ve been out twice this week. Yes, twice. On Wednesday night I went to the theatre to what I thought was a creative writing session. It was in fact an open mic poetry reading evening. I was in the mood for writing, not listening, but I decided to stay until the interval at least. In the end, I stayed until the end, drawn in by carefully selected sentences and measured meters, astounded by authors who recited their rhymes with animated physical gestures, AND many read from memory. I was mightily impressed. I also felt a tinge of sorrow, reminded of my passion for performance, sharing the notes I had cosseted and cajoled (and cursed!) with audiences, hoping they got it, got me.

I’m not long back from my second visit to the local theatre this week, this time to see Hidden by Motionhouse. It was intriguingly described as dance circus and recommended by a friend who has a finely tuned barometer for unique cultural experiences. I was so impressed. Again! Twice in one week! I’m so relieved to be quenching my thirst for culture.

Seven athletic dancers expressively contorted their powerful bodies within the confines of a minimal set for an hour before the intermission. Sixty minutes felt like sixteen. Despite reading the description and watching a trailer beforehand, I still don’t have a clear understanding of what was going on. I decided to let it wash all over me.

The opening was joyous. Outfits were jaunty and colourful. The mood soon turned grey and apocalyptic.

The mind blowing acrobatics of the dancers made us hold our breath, and the gasps after a successful somersault were clearly audible. If I had a pound for each backbend… They made it look easy, but I know if I tried some of the moves at home, I would quite literally break.

Motionhouse are on the move – catch them on tour now!

Yesterday when I woke up, the birds chirping outside my window sounded different. I know because I woke up in the early hours roasting hot so I opened the window a few inches to cool down. Their song was more optimistic and upbeat. Could it be that spring is here?

Definitely not but its bags are packed and it’s well on its way. I know in my bones it’s going to snow again and temperatures will plummet. Then I’ll know the cold in my bones again. For now though I’m going to use this improvement to fuel a pre-spring spring clean.

I’m having more creative ideas. I often want to write. I want small projects. I want to improve my life incrementally. I have an appetite for food. I’m hungry like a wolf. I could eat a horse. I think that’s the HRT. I’m trying not to fight it and playing around with my eating habits. Maybe multiple micro meals would help? Fasting sometimes helps, depends on the day though. I’ve tried discipline, makes it worse. Maybe boundaries? And maybe also accepting this slightly (+ 3kg) bigger me? I’m going to have to go clothes shopping. I hate clothes shopping ☹️

It’s really tough not being motivated. I feel I’ve lost a lot of my passion. Playing is just a job 90% of the time. I never thought I’d say that. Until a couple of years ago, I woke up excited about the music I was practicing. I couldn’t wait to get my fingers stuck into the strings, plunging into juicy chords with curiosity, recognising technically difficult passages and finding strategies to tame the notes.

Most days I practice at least 2 hours, for stamina and reassurance more than anything. Some days I walk away after an hour. There’s no point fighting when there’s nothing there. I’ve thought about putting a short simple programme together but I just haven’t the energy or focus after learning the latest requests and covering the tricky sections of my wedding repertoire.

I once harboured a hope that I’d play at the Opera House in Covent Garden, or perhaps at the Met in New York, or even the Sydney Opera House! Why not? Those days have gone. What ambitions can one have at 53.5 years of age?

I feel terrible today. 27/1/25 is my blue Monday. I had a 4 hour fayre yesterday and from the moment I woke, I knew I didn’t want to go. I dragged my heels and everything that could go wrong did, laughably so. I just wanted to stay at home and watch a film safe and warm in my armchair but I’d paid for the fayre.

I went out to get my car. Despite temperatures on the + side, the lane was covered in a fine sheet of slippery ice. It took longer to pack the car. I got grumpier.

I set up. I don’t like the area I usually play in. It’s cold and draughty but it’s a good position as there’s no other way in – people have to walk past me.

I took a small flask of strong coffee, a big flask of vibrantly comforting green tea and a hot water bottle – the ability to warm my hands keeps me playing.

I forgot my playing specs! They’re there on the table ready to go, I just didn’t put them in my bag. Thankfully I had my reading glasses. Better than no specs.

The main room was crammed with exhibitors who had all woken up early and sacrificed their Sunday to try and get some business. I was one of 3 musicians and the only introvert. I’d say there were 50 people who attended. Not 50 couples, 50 individuals. It was pretty depressing.

There were lots of fayres on the same date. That’s how it goes. How does one choose? I like the venue as it’s local and the staff are nice but that doesn’t guarantee me a gig. There was a 90th birthday party in the room opposite where I was playing. The birthday “boy” made a request and I was delighted to play it for him, twice actually, but I silently wished they’d booked me to play during their meal. They got some free live music for their party anyway – maybe next time?

I was tense throughout the 4 hours. Maybe it was one of those days I should’ve listened to the voice that said to stay at home.

I’m just about back in the swing of things after my trip to Lyon. I didn’t really want to go but I’m ever so glad I did. I know Lyon really well already and I have so many other destinations on my list. I also knew going to a funeral wouldn’t be the holiday I hoped for.

Everything happened so suddenly! 2 weeks ago my bags were packed and I was ready to cautiously make my way onto the main road at 2am to meet the taxi. I didn’t want to risk the cab getting stuck on my icy lane.

I couldn’t believe how much snow there still was at the airport. Despite the conditions, the flight left promptly and we landed at 9am. I jumped on the shuttle and was at my Airbnb by 11. I found a small studio flat in the heart of the old town which had everything I needed and it was warm and cosy. It was the perfect time to test the bed with a much needed siesta.

A couple of hours later, feeling revived and refreshed, I needed to stretch my legs. It was bitterly cold but sunny, the skies a soft inviting wintry blue hue.

I bought a big carton of soup, a jar of chickpeas and some leeks for my evening meals during my stay. I’d packed my breakfast oats (I know! I definitely didn’t need to pick up a January croissant habit) and I bought some fruit and milk to go with them so breakfast was sorted. There were coffee pods in the flat and I already knew my way around a Nespresso machine after Spain.

On Sunday I went for a long walk in an area I didn’t know very well, La Croix Rousse. Lyon is a city of twos. Two rivers flow through it and there are two hills – Fourvière which is the area where I lived, also known as the hill that prays since the cathedral is perched up there. The other hill is Croix Rousse, nicknamed the hill that works. It was home to the silk weavers. I made my way up to a park and wondered around there for a bit:

before weaving my way downtown through the winding streets of quirky Croix Rousse:

I had an early night after my long walk. The funeral was at 10 the next morning.

I walked steadily up the steep hill to the church, arriving shortly after 9. I’d been to my teacher’s funeral at a crematorium in Lyon, I’d been to a French church wedding, but I’d never attended a French funeral in a catholic church. I didn’t know what to expect but I suspected it would be a lengthy service.

I walked into the church with a few people. I greeted the 3 bereaved children and offered my deepest condolences before signing a book with a few words about CC. I sat close to the back. It was quiet, no organ, no music.

The funeral began. It was long at an hour and a half and quite formal. The heartfelt family tributes were moving, the sermon less so and I enjoyed drifting in and out of the complicated French vocabulary. We had been given booklets with some lovely photos of the deceased in his youth and prime. They also contained the words we were supposed to recite at appropriate times.

At the end of the service we were invited to go to the coffin in pairs if we wished to do so and say our goodbyes. A woman walked next to me. As we approached I whispered to her that I wasn’t sure what to do, whether I was allowed to go. She whispered back that it was fine. She dipped a metal orb into holy water and made the sign of a crucifix over the coffin. I copied her and followed her out of the church. I thanked her profusely.

Turns out she’s an artist and she invited me for coffee to her home a couple of days later, and she’s close friends with a harpist who’s half Welsh, but that’s another story!

After the service we all gathered at the family home where I used to live. Despite the sorrow of the occasion it was great to see the house with the shutters open, flooded with daylight, full of people whom grief had rendered thirsty and ravenous. I knew quite a few of them actually. CC and MJC often had guests for dinner and there were lots of familiar faces. Interestingly, people don’t change that much in 30 years.

After some genuinely pleasant exchanges, I dawdled my way back to the flat, walking through the barren gardens which had been in full bloom when I was there last May. I had another early night.

I was invited to the burial of the ashes the following morning at 10am in the cemetery which was a 30 minute drive from the city centre. This was very emotional for me. The tomb had been opened and CC’s ashes were carefully placed with MJC’s coffin. I was unable to attend her funeral due to work commitments so having the opportunity to say goodbye was precious.

I felt quite drained that afternoon and just took it easy.

On Wednesday I had a lunch date – with myself! I couldn’t possibly go to Lyon and just have soup so I treated myself to a nice meal at a restaurant I’d spotted near the flat called Court Bouillon (Stock). It appealed to me as it wasn’t very tourist oriented and the owners seemed passionate about produce and their style of cooking. There was a choice of 2 starters, 2 mains and either cheese or dessert on the lunch menu.

The starter was a simple lightly charred little gem lettuce with gently pickled red onion and walnuts. Delicious! The accompanying bread was flavoursome, brown and bitty.

For my main I chose rabbit, polenta with black olives and a chorizo and rosemary sauce that was weightily packed with flavour. I mopped up every drop of sauce with the bread.

Dessert was a playful candy floss glazed Chou bun filled with a decadent pistachio cream dressed with apricot coulis and an intricate biscuity tuile. The cream tasted more of pistachio than actual pistachios, it was a delight.

Sated, I went to walk it all off. I had a meeting with one of the daughters of the deceased that evening. It was my penultimate day in Lyon and I had a lot to do.

I made up a game called Passerelle-Pont to amuse myself as I zigzagged from one side of the Saône to the other. I didn’t really have time or the headspace to visit either of the exhibitions which had caught my eye. F, true to form, was at least 30 minutes late, but I really didn’t mind, I just kept walking and it was important that I see her after all that had happened. She was angry. Understandably. All emotions are valid in grief. Much as they are in life.

I left the flat at 7 the next morning to catch a train to Geneva, then on to the airport. I kept a watchful eye on the departure board to find out which platform to take. 20 minutes before my train was due, I read the word “supprimé” (cancelled). My heart sank. What now? I asked an SNCF attendant – she sent me upstairs to the information desk. Oh it’s fine, she said. You can just take the 938 instead. Ok I thought, but if that one’s cancelled due to the tree still being on the line, I’m really stuffed. There was only one daily plane from Geneva to Manchester. I considered a coach or a taxi to Geneva – out of the question.

We embarked the 938 and I dozed off. An hour from Lyon, we were told we had to wait an indefinite amount of time at Culoz station for the train driver to arrive by car from Geneva.

Due to Swiss laws, only specially trained train drivers were allowed to drive trains in Switzerland. Honestly, you couldn’t make it up.

We arrived in Geneva at midday, nearly 2 hours later than anticipated. I jumped on the train to the airport and dashed through security. I just had time for a coffee. It cost me the princely sum of £7!!! It was the best coffee I had that day 😃

Tune in again soon for hopefully even more rare bit travel adventures!