Wales in May

I have just returned from a four day motoring holiday in Wales.

I was with my son, and we drove in my 1953 Jaguar XK120. The motto of a US Harley Davidson club is: "The difference between men and boys - is the cost of their toys." All too true.
 
Wales rewarded us with 500 miles of completely breathtaking scenery - and a bit of rain. I have never driven so far, surrounded by so much unbroken beauty.

(Apart from an occasion when I was very much younger, and took a young lady of my acquaintance to France. And that was nothing to do with scenery. Oh to be young again!)

Meanwhile back in Wales, nobody goes to Wales for a suntan so we could not complain about a little traditional Welsh weather. In fact we had 2 days of rain. The first was surprising enjoyable. We put the hood up, which is a bit of an engineering accomplishment in itself. And despite the rain, visibility was near perfect, so we were able to enjoy the magnificent views unhindered.

Driving the Jag is always a bit of a challenge. And driving through single track roads, up 1 in 4 hills (and down the other side) was exhilarating. The engine is remarkably powerful for a 60 year old car (for the petrol heads: a 3.4 litre, double OHC, straight six, with two 2" carburettors). But it shows its ancestry in its petrol consumption - 14 miles per gallon on this trip!

We used the AA book of Best Drives. By linking up three circular routes, the Black Mountains, Mid Wales and Snowdonia, and driving up the West side and down the East side of each we had an excellent circular drive.

It was around 150 miles per day, which with the benefit of hindsight was just a little too far. The roads are not built for speed, and although we managed the distances comfortably, a bit more time to linger would have been nice.

On the last day, it was raining and misty. So we truncated the tour and headed home. We would have been home a little early but the old lady decided to show her temperament. So we cruised to halt on the A40 about 20 miles from home! The RAC man did his best, but it's an intermittent fault in the wiring. Hard to trace. We managed to coax her into life, and gingerly pottered home.

Not the perfect finish, but for 480 miles she was a perfect lady. And she is quite an old girl, so I can forgive her little tantrum. Although it will mean a visit to the garage, and yet another largish bill. But, beautiful women are never low maintenance!

So, onto June's featured writing. I haven't written much poetry, and I know a lot of people will be clicking away as soon as they see the word. With some justification. An awful lot of amateur poetry is, well, awful.

Mine might be too, so I have only put a couple of what I hope are the better ones below. Give them a try, you might like them. And at least they are short!

Cat and mouse game

Cat by the mouse hole,
With patience and care,
Just waits for his moment.
Yes, Pussy is there.

I wait for my lover,
With patience and care.
It seems like forever,
But I know She's there.

I learned from that feline,
And I learned it well.
The journey to heaven,
Is a little like hell.

But, purposes different,
Were soon to begin.
Pussy wanted it out. . .
While I wanted it in.

Incident

She was cool and beautiful, sleek as a cat.
Her presence quite filled the bar where we sat,
Scented, successful, Business Woman complete,
The world was her oyster, it lay at her feet.

Conversation meandered as talk often does,
We spoke about life and our various loves.
I mentioned my children Gerry and Clare,
And as soon as I did, felt a chill take the air.

“I do not like kids” she said with contempt,
No room for some brat with his life all unkempt
I have my career and a Golf GTI
A flat in the town. What I need I can buy.

And as for lovers. I've been through the test,
A key to all doors and a man for each breast.”
So bright and so brittle. But caught in the lie,
A tear, like a diamond was fixed in her eye

Perfect Love

Perfect love is white marble.

It is clean, it is pure, it is clear,
Incandescent with light.
Incontrovertibly right.
Sparkling bright as a baby's first tear.
But please spare a thought,
For the commoner sort,
That is complex and veined at its heart,
In its lines and its whorls,
Are two different worlds,
That are mingled but still held apart.
Is its beauty reduced,
By its intricate use,
Or enhanced? It is all in the eye.
Is it danger you see,
Or a life bursting free,
A heart broken, or touching the sky?

If you liked them, there are a few more in the poetry section. Just click on the tab at the top of this page.