My journey, my long, long journey to St Davids was swathed in day-glow daffodils (well, narcissus mainly, if we are going to be pedantic about it) every verge and every village had daffodils in abundance.
For me, it was a seven hour drive from Derbyshire, there is no swift way to St Davids, no matter how long you look at the map or bicker with the sat-nav: I chose the meandering route through the middle of Wales, then along the coast on a road that has such a pinch point through the centre of Fishguard that only light traffic takes it as a route, this suited me fine.*
Mrs Ogg came from Cambridgeshire, a journey that takes just as long but has more motorway and probably less daffodils.
I stopped off on route to watch the red kites at Bwlch Nant yr Arian Forest Visitor Centre
I loitered around for feeding time (3pm) and was rewarded with some 30 kites coming down to feed (We tried doing this last time we were down this way, it was so foggy we saw not one red kite) this time it was a treat
I wasn’t all together chuffed with the photos I managed,
but I did enjoy the spectacle
As I prepared to leave, on my ‘onward journey’ there was a rat-a-tat-tat on the car window, to my surprise it was the Grandma of one of Joe’s school friends, who was visiting the area, so strong was her association with me to the school gate that she asked ‘Are you going to get the boys from school now?’ Err… it is 3:15pm and I’m four hours drive from home, I think I might be a bit late for the school run?
*Traveling home on Sunday it was more tiresome, lots of cars with elderly drivers, the sort that only come out once a week to go to church or the occasional trip to the shops, and for some reason a surfeit of tractors trailing muck spreaders