The trip down here was by an older line called the Mid-Wales Train, which travels slowly from Shrewsbury to Swansea, through some of the wonderful Wales countryside: imagine greens like you seldom see, with sheep almost everywhere, and streams traveling alongside the train. And moors. And little towns. It was worth the extra time it took to get down here.
Now Swansea is not Shrewsbury. It is more working class and bleak, with rather poorly done urban renewal in places, and a sense of a city under duress. This is a bank holiday weekend, so lodging was difficult, and we ended up staying in a Premier Inn, pleasant enough but pretty ordinary. However, we got settled in early enough to get a good walk by the ocean, and that was great. Some sea shells to add to the collection, and some rain to meet expectations, and we returned to the room after a long walk towards the Mumbles, but not reaching it.
The hotel we were staying in had internet at 3 Pounds per minute, so we went in search of a free internet. Of course these are all attached to bars and loud noise, so we didn't stay long. Supper turned out to be one of those comedies of error, with a Spaniard, German, and Italian working in an Italian restaurant, none of whom could understand what we wished to order, and getting it all quite wrong. The dinner was almost, but not quite, a disaster.
Fortunately, the hotel was close and we got there, dodging the inevitable rain, and settled into an awful TV show before bedtime.
Darlene was up earlier than I (surprise) the next morning to walk with the garbage men and the early joggers. She went back to the beach and got some more of her sea-time exposure. Then it was pack, find a cafe for breakfast, and get to the train, on our way to Salisbury.
This involved a quick transfer, but was pretty painless. The Brits really do trains better than we do. They might have been a bot better at announcing the stops, though: we almost missed the Salisbury stop.
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