Transit

On a map, the Brecon Beacons--mountains surrounding the town of Brecon in south Wales--are not that far from Belfast. However. To get there meant a taxi at 6:30 am to Belfast Internatiional Airport, a flight to Bristol, arriving around 10 am. A 30-minute shuttle to the Bristol train station. A 45-minute train to Newport. Then, after a 45 minute break, a 30 minute train to Abergavenny, arriving around 1:30 pm. Where I had to kill 2 hours because I couldn't check in until 4pm in Brecon, 40 minutes away by taxi, the final leg of my long day. Below is a view of Abergavenny as I walked into town from the train station.

Not only does Wales ooze charm, but the River Uze runs through the valley.

I had a big lunch at a Turkish restaurant--I hadn't done great with food on this trip. Then I walked around Abergavenny, including a castle ruin.

I call this one garbage can and castle.

A fixer upper.

With a lot of work it could look like this:

When I checked in at Nythfa House, I was told I'd be on the 3rd/top floor. I wanted to cry--my bag is heavy and I have been humping it up and down stairs at train stations all day. The manageress saw my face and quickly said, It's a lovely room. And she was right! Here's the antechamber:

Here's the room with a nice big dormer:

And the bathroom:

I started reading the book Nomadland on the plane. It's about women roughly my age who haven't secured a pension during their working years, or managed to buy a house, or generally set themselves up for retirement. So they live in vans, RVs, trailers, and travel to warm areas in the winter, northern climes in the summer, taking temporary work along the way. It' isn't a great way to spend your 60s. It makes me feel incredibly privileged to live the life I do, not only in Belfast, but also in my personal retreat at the top of Nythfa House.

June 25