The Mutiny on The Bounty

As a chil, I remember being horrified by the film, Mutiny on the Bounty, starring Marlon Brando and Trevor Howard ("I love you Laura. I will love you always until the end of my life"; infinitely more preferable! ) which inevitably, despite its historical inaccuracy, was a favourite of my blood-thirsty brothers. In later years, attempting to broaden my knowledge of the ill-fated mission, I began to read "The Bounty Trilogy" by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall but didn't get beyond page 56. But, irrespective of that, I was delighted to visit recently the site of Captain Bligh's London house

London Necropolis Railway

I’m always astonished at London’s secret past.  Last Thursday I discovered the terminus of the former London Necropolis Railway at Waterloo. Opened in 1854, it offered a solution to overcrowding in London's existing graveyards, providing transport for coffins and mourners to Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey. The building was specifically designed with private waiting rooms which could be used to hold funeral services, and a hydraulic lift to raise coffins to platform level from the railway arches where bodies were stored before their final journey. It closed in 1941 after a bombing raid but remains an incredible insight into social history

War Horse

We’ve just watched “War Horse” and despite knowing the story, it was a roller coaster of genuine emotion.  Some of the images, particularly those of fighting from the trenches during the shelling, were incredibly powerful and moving.  Mr Glis’s Grandfather fought at the Somme and was one of the lucky ones who survived. His brother, sadly, was one of the thousands who died. What was clear from this film was that there was nothing glorious about this war (and countless others) and a generation of young men was needlessly wasted. And yet we still haven’t learned to love one another

Moel Siabod

 Moel Siabod has all the essential requirements of a favourite mountain. An interesting walk in, through old mining and quarrying works, a splendid ridge to the summit and an interesting but straightforward descent with some varied scenery.  It’s also our primary mountain weather forecasting tool as its summit is in view of our holiday cottage.  If we can see it, it’s either been raining or is just about to rain: it it’s invisible, then it’s actually raining. Our recent journey to the summit was on a splendid autumnal day with only a hint of rain, giving us wonderful summit views

                                                                                                                                                            

St Gelynnin, Henryd

Tucked away on the side of a hill above Henryd near Conwy nestles a small chapel dedicated to St Gelynnin .  Discovered through our geocaching adventures, it represents worship from years gone by, when the agricultural dwellings scattered across the hillsides provided homes for large families who, in fear of God, the local Minister and their neighbours, attended chapel each Sunday. Although the pews looked to be suitably uncomfortable for  enduring those “hell fire and damnation” sermons, there were some delightful features, such as the ancient writings on the East wall and the font at the back of the chapel

St Cwyfan - the little church in the sea

Our recent week in Wales introduced us to several more hidden gems by way of geocaching . Our first find was a tiny chapel, dedicated  to St Cwyfan, perched on an island just off the coast of Angelesy.  We had to approach by a causeway at low tide which was something of an adventure but we all managed to make the crossing without slipping on the seaweed.  Sadly the chapel was closed to visitors but we were able to peep inside and imagine how former parishioners would have sat and listened to sermons to the accompaniment of the crashing waves

Our Week in Wales

Our annual week in Wales seemed to come and go in a flash.  As a pre-winter restorative, it works very well, although after just one day back in the office, a week wasn’t nearly long enough!  Almost inevitably, and despite my best intentions, I have eaten far too much (although I did avoid hot toast at breakfast in an untypical burst of puritanical self-righteousness) and now feel that I should embark on a healthier eating programme that, sadly, doesn’t involve daily rations of home-made cake with a cup of tea.  Somehow, carrot juice just doesn’t match up to carrot cake