I've been to Wales countless times, sometimes for work, more often for pleasure. But I don't recall enjoying the country so much as last week when Ms T and four of our friends rented a cottage in the Brecon Beacons for New Year. It was cold - I don't think the temperature got above four degrees celcius - but this served as an excuse for whisky macs.
The house we rented was built in the seventeen fifties and the visitors book had lots of references to it being haunted, one entry claimed by 'a woman in pink with a dog'. I find ghosts disappear around journalists, inasmuch as I have never seen one and never seen any satisfying pictures of any. But Gareth reckons he heard her banging around on the stairs in the night; his very British response was to shrug and let her get on with it.
The countryside was converted by the freezing temperatures from its usual rustic greens and browns into a spectacular crystal white. People rhapsodise about 'fresh air' but its in places like these you can draw it in and savour the difference.
When I got back I found our big desktop computer had died so I invested some of my savings in a Dell. We will see if this was wise. I'll post up the Wales pictures when it arrives.
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