And so, another week draws to an end; I could lie and say how busy I have been, putting up shelves, sorting out my CDs, doing the garening and even washing the car. In truth, since returning from our travels to Wales and 'up North' I have been mainly sorting through more photographs, I did take over a 1000 pictures last week, and generally messing around on the net. But, no on myspace, as you can tell. I have no excuses or mitigating circumstances, its just the way it is. Today, being a typical day in the working week of a Jolly Jack Tar on shore leave, I am still sitting un my underwear, getting the entusiasm for a shower, and maybe actually getting dressed before lunch. Or maybe not. Its just the kind of crazy lifestyle I lead these days. In fact, yesterday was a rather special day, in that it was one year ago I got the sack, or downsized, from the cheical company and found myself once again one of the great unwashed. Sometimes, it does help in thinking back to a year ago and realising how much life has changed, and all for the better it has to be said. I won't go into the ways, as they really speak for themselves. Suffice to say that life is still rather wonderful, the only cloud on the horizon is that I will be getting a call from the office soon and wanting me to go back to sea. Oh well, we have to earn money, even if I kid myself that maybe Gardline would like to pay me for just staying at home. Anyway, I have seen a very nice lens for the camera, and being rather expensive, I will have to head out to sea; but judging from the shipping forecast, it will mean a stream of port calls wherever in the North Sea I may end up.
Last week we were away, and what a fantastic time we had. Jools got off work at about two on Monday afternoon, and then we had to head off to Cardiff, which in itself is not too bad, but to get there we had to get round the M25 and then the M4; neither of which is really pleasant, and it was with some relief when we finally saw the lights of Newport accross the Bristol Channel; less welcome was finding out that it cost £5 to cross the bridge, which really does not make much sense as the Thames bridge at Dartford is just a pound. We had little choice and stumped up the cash and we were in the land where each sign is written twice, once in English and underneath written in the rarer letter from a scrabble bag. Thanks to the magic box on the dash we found our way to the hotel we were to stay out; a Toby Inn, which main selling point is that they do a carvery every day. After unpacking, we decided to partake in the carvery, and I have to say, very good it was. As cooking a Sunday roast is generally more trouble than its worth, and certainly more washing up that anyone thought possible, the roast beef was most welcome. Anyway, once stuffed like an expensive cusion, we headed up to the room and wait for sleep or indegestion; or whichever of them came first.
The next morning we woke to a bright dawn, and balmy temperatures. Could this be Wales in October, or had we been moved about 1500 miles south? It was still Wales. Although they did try to confuse us with a 'contenental' breakfast, which was more welcome than a traditional fry up if the truth be known. Looking at the map I saw that there was a transporter bridge in Newport, and never having seen one let alone having been on one, I headed off, not telling Jools where we were going. Once at the bridge, towering over the Newport skyline, we found the bridge actually closed. But the azzure blue skies make for some striking pictures. We had then decided to head to the hills and the place known as Big Pit, now a museum of what was once the thriving coal mining industry. We had decided that we did not trust the Sat Nav, and so after ignoring it for half an hour we relised it really did know the way as we joined up with the road it had been trying to steer us along. Blaenavon, where the pit was, was also the home of a huge iron works, closed due to the BBC filming there all wonter. We made our way to the pit, Big Pit, will seemed a little small to live up to it's name. After going through the entrance, we queued up for the underground tour. Down in the rickety cage lift, down about 100 metres. Each on of us had a hard hat on, and each hat with a lamp. The mine no longer is working, as most of the coal has been mined, but seeing what it is like now, gives one the impression what it must have been like when it was working; low ceilings, wooden pit props and always on the lookout for gas. What was missing was the noise of the machinery and the dust in the air, or what would have passed for air down there. The mine now exists to rind future generations as to what life was once like in South Wales, and how men, and at one time, women and children, used to earn their daily crust; if they saw the day out. Never has daylight been a more welcome sight. That is not true, the tour was very good and informative, taken by an ex-miner, full of tales and information.
The drive back down the Cardiff, down the valley back to Cardiff was wonderful. All along the valley there were trees, all golden in the afternoon autumnal sunshine. Above us looked like hills, but a closer look revealed them to be grass covered slag heaps, a reminder how at one time this place must have looked like the gates of hell, with the iron works working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
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read more blogs!
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misschoos
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Nov 8 @ 1:30PM
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NIce blog.
Of course I am biased. 
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KnittinKitten
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Nov 8 @ 3:32PM
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As usual, my friend.....another one of your "we were there with you" adventures.
It's always a pleasure.
I'm sure it's not easy to be away at sea so long, but, on the other hand, you COULD be working at a job you do NOT like....5 days a week, year after year......just my way of raising your spirits, in case they are drooping.
Fondly,
JUDY 
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