ROAD TRIPPING (PART 1)

I usually find travel reports really boring, and this one is unfortunately no exception. And it's REALLY LONG too. Sorry. Feel free to skip  it or nod off in the middle. I know I have, and I've been writing it.

So...after having just returned from Egypt, my mum and I met up with my sister and we all piled into a hire car and set off into the British countryside. What we lacked in terms of an actual itinerary and pre-booked accommodation, we made up for in enthusiasm and a blind faith that everything would turn out alright. We had two weeks in which to do a complete tour of absolutely everywhere. Easy peasy.

Inside the walls of Cardiff Castle

We decided to drive straight to Cardiff and spend the night there so that we'd have two glorious days to explore the (ahem) marvels of Wales' premier city.  We went first to Cardiff Bay, and were excited to see that we'd arrived on the night of a pretty impressive looking food and wine festival. Five minutes after arriving, the festival vendors started shutting their stalls and burly security guards told us to leave. Bastards.

The next morning was bright and sunny, so we walked to Cardiff Castle.  It's quite a cool castle, and we were enjoying meandering along the battlements, right up until the sky split open and the heaviest rain I've encountered this far from the tropics started flinging itself down from the heavens. We spent an hour hiding inside the castle walls until the driving rain subsided enough for us to run across the soggy grass to the cafe/tourist shop at the exit, where we loitered until the rain finally stopped and we could escape. That was enough Wales for me. We decided to move on.

Our next stop was Bath, where we marvelled at the Roman Baths, spat out the horrible tasting spa water from the Pump Room, and imagined being rich and classy enough to live in the beautiful Georgian homes of the Royal Crescent. Then it was off for a drive through the Cotswolds, where we enjoyed the rolling hills and pretty little villages for which the area is famous. This was to be our first night camping, so we sensibly set up the tent before going to visit the Rollright Stones. I'd read some spooky tales of mysterious happenings at those stones, so was quite disappointed when none of us were shoved in the back by a spectral hand or accidentally whisked away to an alternative dimension. Maybe next time.

The next day we found our way to Stratford-upon-Avon, and ate a lovely picnic lunch on the banks of the Avon river, with Shakespeare's decomposed corpse resting just metres away in the Holy Trinity Church. I felt so cultural. Mum wanted to visit his birthplace, which I'd seen before, so I got to sit in a cafe and have a bit of a snooze while she was doing that. I also snoozed in the car while my mum and sister spent a couple of hours avoiding screaming children at Warwick Castle later that day. It was obviously a really tough day for me.

Next it was off to Liverpool, so mum could re-connect with her inner teenager and walk in the footsteps of *swoon* The Beatles.  I'm hoping her visions of Liverpudlian life weren't too romantic, because the local scousers didn't exactly turn on the charm. As we were waiting for a bus to get home that night, we were almost trampled by police officers who pushed us aside to break up a fistfight between two drunk morons standing beside us. Classy place, Liverpool. We slept in an old dairy, and it was the most comfortable night's sleep we'd had so far.

I don't know what came over me, but looking at our map the next morning I decided it would be a really good idea to go to Blackpool. And it was! Blackpool was fantastic! Picture all of the cheesiest, tackiest components of a stereotypical British seaside town, plonk them all into one small area, and there you have Blackpool. There were amusements, piers, rides, terraced seating leading on to a sandy beach and overweight fifty-year old women dressed as Britney Spears. My sister was concerned by the number of our fellow day trippers who were missing teeth, but I was mostly distracted by the teenage mothers screaming at their children so didn't notice. Ah, Blackpool, how I loved thee.

Mum convinced us all to go on this terrifying ride on the South Pier called the Sky Screamer. It was like a reverse bungee. The three of us were strapped with a flimsy-looking seat belt into an open cage, then sling-shot 200 feet into the air. Apparently we went from 0-60mph in 2 seconds, before bouncing around upside down and sideways for a while. Yeah, we screamed. It was so much fun we went on it twice.

Once the adrenalin drained away, Blackpool started to feel a bit  boring so we drove on to the Lake District in search of a campsite and an early night. The next day we took to the hills for a hike. It was brilliant. My mum had never done any rambling before, but she powered on up the hills like a trouper. We had lunch in a meadow with cows in the foreground, Lake Windemere in the background, and mountains rising up behind us. I love country walks. Even ones where we get lost, end up ankle-deep in mud and completely ruin the inappropriate footwear in which we chose to walk. Even then, I still love country walks.

The walk took us five hours, so the next evening in the campsite was quite chilled out. We bought some beers and sat around chatting as our drinks chilled in a stream. It was lovely.

The next day we started our journey to the most-anticipated part of our road trip: Scotland!

** If you've managed to make it this far, you'll be pleased to know that I've now decided  to break this tale into two parts. They're still two long parts, but that's gotta be better than one super-long part where you finish the story in a different demographic/age bracket from the one in which you started. **