No Water Falls And Waterfalls

 

Thursday was peculiar: it didn’t rain at all.  No dampness, no water.  

Naturally, the first thing we did was go find some.

Our neighbour had mentioned Dyserth Falls, just a couple of miles from the camp site.  It was lovely.  If you fancy a visit to a pretty sight, it’s worth the 40p donation, which is all they ask.  They trust you to drop it in the box on the way over to the waterfall.  

Waterfalls are boring, unless you are a photographer.  We – the children, the dogs and me – left the Hub doing his thing and climbed the steepest steps I ever met outside of one drunken night in 1986.  Great view of the countryside; none at all of the top of the waterfall, which was well hidden by trees, for safety.

We went back to the Hub, still doing his thing, and waited.  Waterfalls are pretty but boring.  Photographers are pretty boring.

Eventually, the Hub heard our whining and joined us for bacon baps on the bench, from the little shop/café that serves tourists.

The Hungry Tamed

The service was outstanding.  We wanted to buy a couple of sausages for the dogs (they were also on holiday) but they couldn’t be sold without the buns and that would have been a waste.  When the woman came with a huge bowl of water for the dogs (which Toby managed to fall into), she brought two date-expired sausage rolls, not fit for human consumption but perfect for slavering pooches, free of charge (we gave them the meat only; no pastry.  They might have been on holiday but we still watched their waistlines) .

Dyserth Falls: definitely recommended.

Next, we went to Rhyl so the kids could spend their money.  I bought something unnecessary and frivolous, which I haven’t done in years.  A scarf with rings, butterflies and things, for a fiver.  I’ll have to take a pic for you, when I wear it.  I may never wear it because it’s not really something I would ever wear, but I really liked it and I don’t regret the purchase.

Frivolity: definitely recommended.

It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A, to the annoyance of complete strangers

Finally, a bit of culture.  We visited Rhuddlan Castle, meeting a lovely lady (M.B.E.) on the desk, who chatted to us for ages and admired our many and polite children.

Up on the ramparts, we spotted our shadows way down on the ground and the kids did an impromptu rendition of YMCA, leading another tourist to mutter ‘Pillocks!’ under his breath.  He obviously didn’t read the frivolity memo.

The kids compounded their crime by enthusiastically chasing and catching a runaway Labrador, to the owner’s gratitude; playing quoits with no skill whatsoever (the Hub put them to shame even though he was furthest away from the pole); and rolling gleefully if somewhat painfully down a steep hill, where it is entirely possible logs steeped in burning oil were once rolled to see off invaders.

Childhood: definitely to be enjoyed, even when you’re sixteen.

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