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...taking half a department's worth of microcrystalline samples up north for scheduled time at the Synchrotron Laboratory at Daresbury, to be told there's no beam time available to do the structures.
The guy who took them up there for me actually apologised like it was his fault.
*Fumes*
Right - Llandudno.
When people hear that name, it conjures up images of old dears doddering along a promenade, theatre performers covering Vera Lynn, further old dears laughing maniacally at how they're dropping their ice cream all over themselves, grim weather, and a few more old dears thrown in for good measure.
Well, for the most part, they'd be right.
The one difference to that was the fact that throughout the week the family was up there, we had one day that could be described as "cloudy", and rainfall (recorded by inspection) of three drops. Clear skies make for blue seas, green fields and great aspects for photography, so out came the camera.
I'd like to say that I know what I'm doing when taking photographs, though having browsed through the hundred and forty-odd that were taken over the course of the week, I have to conclude once again that I don't. I've now done mass photo shoots at several different holiday locations round the country, and am still no closer to managing pictures that make me think "wow, that looks nice". I'm still at "yes, that's how I remember it". Possibly I'm expecting too much.
With Mum and Nana enjoying shopping, and Dad and I...not enjoying shopping so much...we tended to split off into pairs to go and do things. This meant visits to the north Wales castles became viable, and full opportunity was taken to go and visit Conwy and Caernarfon.
The immediate thing that strikes you while looking round these places is their sheer size in comparison to a lot of buildings that claim the title 'castle'. When Edward I looked to set up his iron ring round the north coast, he obviously wanted the populace he was subjugating to be in no doubt about the fact that he was in charge. These buildings are massive - not many castles could claim enough acreage to be able to fit a football pitch inside their curtain walls, but these would have no trouble. Nice views from the top towers, as well as the best bakers I've ever tasted, not two hundred yards from Conwy's gatehouse. Vanilla slices with six inches of cream and Welsh cakes that were still steaming are not to be sniffed at (even though fresh cream had me sniffing regardless, it was still a very impressive six inches worth).
There was a whole family pilgrimage of sorts to Betws-y-Coed, to (in my parents case) revisit the town that the last last five of our family cars have been named after. It's a bit of a walker's haven, but once you get out of the town proper there's a beautiful path alongside one of the three tributaries to the river Conwy which just begged to be photographed. I got my one fairly good shot of the week there, but the light was crap (honest) so the rest came out too dark.
No tourist visit to the north of Wales could be complete without a trip to Anglesey to (once again, revisit) Llanfair PG, the only thing other than the Cserszegi Fűszeres grape that markets itelf on having an almost unpronouncable name (by the way...chair-ZEG-ee FEW-sher-es, if I remember my cellar training correctly). Very nice shop, started out as a woolen mill factory outlet and has since broadened into a sort of everything store - think Covent Garden General but dressed up impressively for tourists. Certainly improved from the last time we went there.
I also tried to photograph the Menai Bridge. I'm blaming the light again - it's a good scapegoat.
The line about covering Vera Lynn wasn't a joke - there was a wartime entertainment recreation at the theatre, where people of my age were clearly not welcome (the young person jokes from the host started early and kept going), and contained the only instance I have ever known of their being a perambulatory traffic jam as approximately one dozen wheelchairs tried to get out of the building once the show had finished. I was firmly below notice as I attempted to navigate Nana out, the other pushers seeming surprised and slightly irritated that a young thug like me should invade their evening's entertainment, and could wait as punishment.
Depressing to think it, but there's none so prejudiced as the old and wise.
The guy who took them up there for me actually apologised like it was his fault.
*Fumes*
Right - Llandudno.
When people hear that name, it conjures up images of old dears doddering along a promenade, theatre performers covering Vera Lynn, further old dears laughing maniacally at how they're dropping their ice cream all over themselves, grim weather, and a few more old dears thrown in for good measure.
Well, for the most part, they'd be right.
The one difference to that was the fact that throughout the week the family was up there, we had one day that could be described as "cloudy", and rainfall (recorded by inspection) of three drops. Clear skies make for blue seas, green fields and great aspects for photography, so out came the camera.
I'd like to say that I know what I'm doing when taking photographs, though having browsed through the hundred and forty-odd that were taken over the course of the week, I have to conclude once again that I don't. I've now done mass photo shoots at several different holiday locations round the country, and am still no closer to managing pictures that make me think "wow, that looks nice". I'm still at "yes, that's how I remember it". Possibly I'm expecting too much.
With Mum and Nana enjoying shopping, and Dad and I...not enjoying shopping so much...we tended to split off into pairs to go and do things. This meant visits to the north Wales castles became viable, and full opportunity was taken to go and visit Conwy and Caernarfon.
The immediate thing that strikes you while looking round these places is their sheer size in comparison to a lot of buildings that claim the title 'castle'. When Edward I looked to set up his iron ring round the north coast, he obviously wanted the populace he was subjugating to be in no doubt about the fact that he was in charge. These buildings are massive - not many castles could claim enough acreage to be able to fit a football pitch inside their curtain walls, but these would have no trouble. Nice views from the top towers, as well as the best bakers I've ever tasted, not two hundred yards from Conwy's gatehouse. Vanilla slices with six inches of cream and Welsh cakes that were still steaming are not to be sniffed at (even though fresh cream had me sniffing regardless, it was still a very impressive six inches worth).
There was a whole family pilgrimage of sorts to Betws-y-Coed, to (in my parents case) revisit the town that the last last five of our family cars have been named after. It's a bit of a walker's haven, but once you get out of the town proper there's a beautiful path alongside one of the three tributaries to the river Conwy which just begged to be photographed. I got my one fairly good shot of the week there, but the light was crap (honest) so the rest came out too dark.
No tourist visit to the north of Wales could be complete without a trip to Anglesey to (once again, revisit) Llanfair PG, the only thing other than the Cserszegi Fűszeres grape that markets itelf on having an almost unpronouncable name (by the way...chair-ZEG-ee FEW-sher-es, if I remember my cellar training correctly). Very nice shop, started out as a woolen mill factory outlet and has since broadened into a sort of everything store - think Covent Garden General but dressed up impressively for tourists. Certainly improved from the last time we went there.
I also tried to photograph the Menai Bridge. I'm blaming the light again - it's a good scapegoat.
The line about covering Vera Lynn wasn't a joke - there was a wartime entertainment recreation at the theatre, where people of my age were clearly not welcome (the young person jokes from the host started early and kept going), and contained the only instance I have ever known of their being a perambulatory traffic jam as approximately one dozen wheelchairs tried to get out of the building once the show had finished. I was firmly below notice as I attempted to navigate Nana out, the other pushers seeming surprised and slightly irritated that a young thug like me should invade their evening's entertainment, and could wait as punishment.
Depressing to think it, but there's none so prejudiced as the old and wise.
