Saturday, February 10, 2007

Thursday 11th May 1933

11a.m. left Lincoln for Wales with Wilf, in the car. Back seat filled with luggage. Gainboro! Retford. Worksop. Gloomy weather, rain. Cleared again. Lovely hill country. Road in a valley – green slopes on either side. Lunch by the road. Twittering birds, rippling water. Buxton. Wild barren lands. Congleton. Chester. Green fields and hedges, dark hills ahead.

Mold in Wales. “The road to Maeshafn?”. Wonderful dialect of the natives. Maeshafn, in the hills. The Hostel. Tea in a narrow lane beside a quiet stream. Late afternoon. Parked the car and went to the hostel. An up-to-date, specially built place. Well arranged. Six bunks in a room, three a side. Plenty of blankets.

Ascended a nearby hill. Gaunt and lonely. I think 1197 feet. Peewits, hill sheep, summit, the ruined cottage. Wilf rather anxious about pewits in the twilight, “will they attack us?” he asked.

Two more guests at the Hostel – a mother and daughter, from Birkenhead. I had a talk with them in the spacious common room. The Snowdon route – Excelsior! Game of Sevens with Wilf, the warden and two workmen who are staying here. Bed.


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