Chepstow from Brynmawr: Life's Little Curved Balls and the Pitfalls of Assuming Your Standard Issue Teenager Can Organise Stuff.

It started out badly and went steadily downhill from there. Standard Teenager asked Standard Dad if he (Standard Teenager) could do  a bike ride from Brynmawr to Chepstow today. Dad agreed. Son told SuperMum his plans for the trip. Son, apparently, did not tell Dad. Son had forgotten that Standard Dad does not come with with the super enhanced features that SuperMum does, such as an ability to tell the future (she always knows what's for tea) and read minds. Consequently, Dad, after he walked the dog (Super Deluxe Edition), went out to do some shopping- without telling anyone. Dad was gone for ages.
Subsequently, a three way row developed when, at last, Dad arrived back, and only ended when everyone, including the bike, slammed into the car in a fit of pique (alright, maybe not the bike). And this, folks, is when the best laid plans of the Pride and Joy, fell apart. And I use the word "best" in the same way my teenager evidently does.
The first part of this comedy of errors was not, it's fair to say, his fault. Other than if he had told his dad, in plain English (something, along with his table manners, we have to work on. Someone, after all, might want to marry him one day) that he wanted he be gone by about 11am, and not, as he did, "earlyish"(bearing in mind that the P&J thinks 11am is a reasonable time to get up in the morning), then Dad would have made some effort to be back by 11am, raring to go, and we might have missed the irksome bit of misery looming like a flood of cold mushy peas on the M5.

The tailback started in Avonmouth. You know, that roundabout regulated by a series of traffic lights and, apparently, invisible yellow boxes? Yes, that one. The one with a generous, almost non-stop supply of large, articulated lorries joining it from the left. An hour it took. No, not to get past the roundabout. To go half a mile. Apparently a four car shunt was responsible.
By the time we had got across the Severn Bridge, which, miraculously, managed to stay up until we got to the other side, we were running an hour and a half behind.

 "Shall I drop you at Blaenafon, or do you want to try from Brynmawr? It's only two miles further on, after all?" says Dad. The fool! Has he learned nothing from this day?
"Yes, I might as well," responds the P&J.
"Do you know where it is?" asks Dad.
"Yes," replies the P&J confidently. Confidently! Any owner of a teenager should know what that means!
Pause.
"Well?" asks Dad. "Where is it?"
"It's near a pub."
"And what's the pub called?"
"I don't know. I'll know it when we get there." You've got to admire their optimism, haven't you?
Off we set, to Brynmawr, looking  FOR THE ONLY PUB ON THAT ROAD. "There's a pub," I said, apparently to myself, as we drove past a pub like building called The Racehorse Inn. Or possibly the Jockey and Something (Dad). Or How the Bloody Hell Would I Know (P&J). Either way, it's the only pub on the A4248.
Consequently, we went further than we had to, possibly to Brynmawr, possibly to Beaufort. I don't really know. I'd lost the will to live by then.
We turned around, we drove back. There was no cycle path "near" the pub. We drove on. Miraculously, both the P&J and Dad saw the sign for the cycle path at the same time. Clearly my son uses the adverb near in the same cavalier fashion he uses best.

 So we got him and the bike out of the car, put the front wheel on the bike, and off he went. We had agreed he would not make Chepstow before it got dark, so we were to meet him by the rugby ground in Caerleon, unless he rang to tell us differently. That put paid to my plans for a teashop in Chepstow that afternoon.
 After a necessary and urgent visit to the customer facilities at Tesco in  Cwmbran, we went in search of coffee and something to eat. Another little tea house, perhaps, a little gem tucked away in the hills, with a roaring fire

 (it was bitter, frost lay all day. I'm just telling you so you'll understand we were very, very cold. Hence a roaring fire would be very welcome. Okay?) and large, fluffy, homemade cakes? No. It was a Subway sandwich bar, at the rear of a Spar shop in Cwmbran. A slice of vegetarian something or other (possibly a veggie burger that had been run over and sliced into rectangles. Who cares? Like I'm going to want one again.), and a bit of salad pressed between two pieces of carpet tile. But it was edible if bland and the coffee was hot, which was what we wanted. And we could eat at the bar, which was just about warmer than the car. Then, collecting provisions for our son, we made our way to Caerleon.

 What can I say about Caerleon? It's always worth a visit. They really embrace their Roman past and the museum always puts on events for the kids, a lot of which are free. And, most importantly, they have some very good eating houses. But I digress.
We arrived in Caerleon fully knowing all the tea and coffee houses would be closing, so we did a big walk around the block, seeing how many photo's my phone camera would take in the gloaming.

We arrived back at the rugby ground just as the P&J did. And just to show HOW COLD IT WAS, when the P&J took off his coat, he was steaming. He also claimed he had frostbite. Something of an exaggeration, so I ignored his whinging. I told him to put 2 pairs of socks on before we set out. Did he listen? No.
He reckons it took him an hour and three quarters to cycle from Blaenafon/ Brynmawr to Caerleon. And much to my relief, he didn't fall in the canal. Maybe he'll leave that until another day, when things seem to be going just too well.


 If you enjoyed this, why not use the links on your right to download my full length stories? 

Sally Matthews- Artist

This is an extension of the Blaenavon post. There's not going to be much in the way of words- I'll let these pictures, culled from a Google search, do the talking.

 

                                                                                                                                 

   

Sally Matthews-

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Two more sculptures on Sally's Facebook page today

Blaenafon Ironworks, South Wales

  Yes, it's across the Severn Bridge today for the P&J's riding adventure. National cycle routes 492 (Pontypool to Blaenafon), 49 (Monmouth and Brecon canal to Newport), 47 (Celtic Trail) and route 88, which has no name, for some reason. Perhaps it's not as exciting as the others. He didn't cycle all the routes, before you get too impressed- he cycled about 20 miles from Blaenafon Ironworks to Caerleon, and apparently most of it was downhill.

Anyway, as he was busy doing that, the OH and I had to find something to do- and what is there to do in South Wales on a very dreary, chilly Sunday afternoon in November? Yes, you're quite correct. Go and visit the Ironworks at Blaenafon. So here we go.

 Good title page, huh? I thought that when I took the picture.

 

This large piece of work is located in the car park on the other side of the road from the site. I have no idea what it is, so don't ask.
Oh? Apparently it's a steam hammer. Now you know.

 These greet you on the way in and similar are dotted around the site. It's rather prosaic, I know, but they'd be a talking point for any garden. But I digress. You'd like some information, I know.
 The works were begun around 1787 when the site was leased from the Marquess of Abergavenny by a partnership of Thomas Hill, Thomas Hopkins and Benjamin Pratt, and closed in the 1970s.  It is a World Heritage site.

 

 This also greets you on the way in- a model village made out of steel plate. It's not treated, so it rusts like the panels that are dotted around the site.








 






 This is one of the blast furnaces, which were added to meet demand during the French wars of 1793-1815. Apparently, the stone facings were taken to build a church, in 1911.

This is the balance tower. Built around 1839, it was a counterbalance lift, powered by the weight of water. This picture doesn't give a real indication of how imposing it is, but that's wide angled lenses for you.
 There's a  path that leads you  to the top and a mesh bridge that takes you up to the top of this wall. If, like me, you're not very good at heights, it's a bit disturbing looking down as you're crossing. Yes, I know. Don't look down then.









Anyway, behind the balance tower are these-

These are cast in iron and therefore the colour of rust. They were sculpted by Sally Matthews, after  watching a film about pit ponies being brought up from the mines for their annual holidays. Well, no, not straight after seeing the film. After she'd thought a bit and did some drawings. Look at her website above. She's GOOD.


 Besides all these, the exhibition includes the workers' cottages, which don't feature in this blog as that part of the site is still a work in progress, and covered in tarps and scaffolding. There is also an exhibition about iron making, in the cast house.
To finish off, here are some more of those iron screens.

 

Don't forget that Big Pit and the Blaenafon Railway are nearby, and the town of Blaenafon itself warrants a visit. If you're into Industrial history, this is a place for you. And a good place if you like walking or cycling. In fact, why not go on holiday there. Bring the dog.

And finally, many thanks to Peter Waklin and Cadw for the Blaenafon Ironworks guide, which saved me having to remember anything. I'm at that age.

Farmborough, Priston and Englishcombe

Well, it serves me right not writing this straight after the trip.

Now I can't remember what photo is what. So we'll just have to make use of what I can positively identify. My apologies to the residents of Farmborough, Priston and Englishcombe if I've got this wrong.
Right, on we go. First stop was Farmborough. This is the church of All Saints and it dates from the fifteenth  century.

Per Arthur Mee (The Kings England- Somerset), four fine gargoyles guard the pinnacles on the tower. You can make them out in the picture, if you look carefully. Unusually the church has or had a plaster font.
The parish was part of the Keynsham Hundreds, and, historically the village was connected to the Somerset coalfield. The author Dick King-Smith (Babe) once taught at the school.
 It has a couple of pubs- the New Inn, which appears to serve food. And the Butchers Arms, which looks like it might serve food, and is a CAMRA member.

Next, we went on to Priston, which is a lovely village with very friendly inhabitants.

Per Mee, "Nature made it lovely and man has made it irresistible....It is one of the far-off corners, easily lost yet much too good to lose, with a church standing where the Normans left it."
On the tower "struts" an "impudent" cockerel.
There was a Roman villa here around 100 AD and Priston Manor is mentioned in the Doomsday Book. The manor was held by Bath Abbey from 925 until the dissolution of the monasteries in the sixteenth century.
 The tower dates from the fifteenth century and the nave from the twelfth century. It was rebuilt in 1859 and restored ten years later.

The local watering hole is the Ring o' Bells, which serves food, along with real ales, cider and fine wines. Ingredients sourced locally.


Priston mill is nearby, but it was shut when we drove by.

This is a seventeenth century granary, which is also in Priston.

And finally onto Englishcombe. Like Priston, Englishcombe is mentioned in the Doomsday book. It's church, St Peter's, dates from the twelfth century. It features Norman arches and leper holes, which allowed lepers to listen to the sermon.

Both Saxons and Normans have left their mark on Englishcombe. The Saxons carried Wansdyke through it- it marches past the church.
I'd like to tell you about the local pub, because I know that's important to you, but I can't find anything recent to confirm there's a local that is still open. Anyone it the area who knows better, can let me know and I'll update if needed.
That's all til next time!

Kennet and Avon canal and Bradford upon Avon

Short on blurb, mostly pictures today. The Pride and Joy wanted to do the cycle route from Bath to Devizes, via the Kennet and Anon canal (via the tow path, you understand. He can't walk on water, whatever he may think). His verdict of the ride- he won't do it again. The paths are too narrow for a cycle path and there were inconsiderate pedestrians, and a very inconsiderate hill at the end!

   

 We arrived a the Kennet and Avon ahead of the Pride and Joy who, as ever, was taking the whole event as though there was a Yellow Jersey at stake.He went straight past me, before halting in front of his Dad. He (the P&J) tells me this is a 22 mile trip, and who am I to argue? So long as he doesn't expect me to join him, it can be as long as he likes.
So, on to Bradford on Avon.

This is the old Saxon church of St Laurence. It's not very far from the new- or rather, newer one, that you can see below. That picture was taken from the end of St Laurence

The town is very much worth a visit. We went on a Sunday in September and it was still very busy- mostly with visitors like ourselves. There wasn't a lot open, so maybe Sunday isn't a good day if you like browsing in little shops and consuming copious amounts of tea and cakes. The traffic is very busy too- even on Sunday.

Having finished at Bradford Upon or On Avon, we ambled off (if you can amble in a car) to Devizes to await the P&J. Then, oh joy, the Other Half decided we would go and look at the locks on the canal which, apparently, allowed the canal boats to go uphill. Here you are then. I can see you're impressed.

   The P&J has decided that he's going to have a Sunday off next week, so unless something untoward happens in Lidls, that's it for a couple of weeks.Happy blogging.
 I nearly forgot- the camera. I normally use my phone for the pictures, but the battery was flat. These were taken with a Vivitar ViviCam x225. I don't recommend it. The slightest bit of light and you can't see the screen, you can't tell if you've taken a picture half the time, and the quality of pictures is rubbish. But that's just my opinion.

Radstock Museum, Hinton Charterhouse and Combe Hay, in North East Somerset

First stop, Radstock Museum, which I probably have visited before, but can't remember. £5 to get in, but the ticket lasts a year.
Currently they're getting an exhibition together that covers the area's mining legacy, and very interesting it's looking too. Seriously, you kids don't know you're born!
It's not open all week so check their website for opening times and avoid disappointment.

  Coming out, I noticed there is a very popular pub across the way, just in case you need something stronger than the tea or coffee offered by the museum.
Incidentally, there is free car parking opposite the museum.

 The reason we're out again, is that the Pride and Joy wanted to do last week's cycle path again, but this time to Willsbridge, home of the Avon Valley Railway. So some more exploring of the area while we're waiting for him.

Consequently, it was up to the Other Half to provide a bit of a mystery tour. Something with lots of photo opportunities, as I had charged my mobile phone up especially ( I will admit, dear reader, that I let you down on our previous trip, to Wellow- my phone was dead before I'd drunk my coffee! Oh, the pictures you missed!)

So, the first port of call was the curiously named Hinton Charterhouse. Some very pretty cottages and church- dedicated to John the Baptist, if I remember rightly

So, a gentle wander round was in order, but parking was tricky and rather full of nettles.

Next, along windy (as in wind the bobbin up, not breezy) and narrow lanes to the little village of Combe Hay.

Again, a lovely little church and lots of stone houses.

I thought the cottages below looked like they had faces- the roof as hair covering the eyes. No? Okay, I'll keep taking the pills.

As you can see, they're not very wide- bijou or cosy, I think the estate agents might say. Unfortunately, our wanderings were curtailed by a phone call from the Pride and Joy, telling us he'd arrived at the railway station and could we come and pick him up.

Myself and the Other Half are now looking at some more challenging routes for the Pride and Joy, possibly something that takes the same length of time as eating a pub lunch, including a coffee or two, Though as autumn is waving at us from the hilltops, that might not be until next summer