There you are on the Welsh/English border, on the very Marches themselves. So what do you do? Head for Wales like a bat out of hell in your brother's BMW station wagon while D peels off in the faithful Tigra for Bury St. Edmunds.
Off we roared down the country lanes of bucolic Wales, and it is bucolic, and two laned, hard to go fast down those little roads though we did our best. First stop? A bizarrely intact Jacobean country house. The owners bought it in the '70s, restored the place to original spec, no electricity, and live in a farmhouse on the grounds. Remarkable.
Then on to Llanddewi Brefi and its New Inn. We weren't greeted by several countrymen speaking Welsh at the bar but perhaps they were wary. Back in the '70's this pub and its rain washed village were home to an LSD factory which produced an estimated 60% of the world's psychedelic favorite. That's right, 60%.
Lo and behold, the Law zeroed in and closed down the millionaire hippies in the UK's biggest ever drug bust, Operation Julie. No more White Lightning at the New Inn today, though there is a musical. Several pints later we were on our way to Aber.
What a good little town. Yes, Pier Pressure's been hideously renovated, so don't go there, but there's plenty of places to relax in the chill Welsh wind as you look across the sea to Ireland and its raiders. When that becomes exhausting, fall back on family for delicious chicken enchiladas or go for a negroni, or both.
Speaking of which, we were strolling through the darkened streets of this seaside resort when a blood covered tackhead got in front of my brother and started shouting. We moved through, like a Panzergruppe, then the tackhead circled 'round and thumped my brother on the back.
Brother LSP turned around, he's large, and advanced aggressively to contact. I stood on the wings in reserve, "Hey, you gonna go him?" But it wasn't necessary, tackhead sensibly ran off into the night only to be picked up by the cops in one of their downtown vans.
I texted a friend, "We were in a fight, in Aber." And he replied, "Welcome to Wales." But it was just a minor skirmish and all was well. As is the town itself, lots of shops, restaurants and pubs, a beautiful seafront and the general atmos of a pre-internet town, old skool.
Go there if you can, just don't go to Pier Pressure, it's rubbish and ruined.
Your Pal,
LSP
Thanks for the tour of England, Scotland and Wales, LSP, I'm enjoying it very much! ☺
ReplyDeleteSafe travels!
Sixty percent of the world's LSD supply? I guess the other 40 percent was supplied by Owsley for the Grateful Dead.
ReplyDeleteWales looks great. My wife is part Welsh so we plan on going there in a couple years.
40% until Owsley ran out of gas, of course.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwvFF2obc_8
Gesundheit! :-) Thanks for the 'tour'... I got over to Brawdy once. That was enough...LOL
ReplyDeleteThanks, Anon! The tour continues, and what a lot of fun.
ReplyDeleteInfidel, the Julie crew were compromised by a plea dealing Owsley associate. But wow, SIXTY PERCENT.
ReplyDeleteAccording to legend, the locals loved the hippies, they were handing out Rolexs like pints.
Go to Wales and stay on Aber's seafront, it's pleasant.
Oh my, Steely Dan! Do you remember Aja?
ReplyDeleteGood call, Wild, but perhaps the Sex Pistols had a point too :)
And there we were in Wales. Good Lord, and you know, that town was self-sufficient up until the 50s/60s.
Message to market, prep up.
NFO, Wales is... Wales. You'll note there's not a highway linking it to the mainland.
ReplyDelete